Ｓｔｒａｎｇｅｒ
𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰 𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰 𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰 𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰 𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰
Masterlist
Ay it's Paige: 19, She/Her, INFJ, Multistan.
Stream Another Day (SKZ)
ATINY Inception Obsession
In (ᵈᵉˢᵖᵉʳᵃᵗᵉ) need of some KPOP friends...
(▀̿Ĺ̯▀̿ ̿)
Disclaimer: All of my fics and one-shots are completely fictional. Nothing I write is in any way, shape, or form indicative of how the idols mentioned really act. As most of my content will include mature, triggering, or sexual themes it is intended for an 18+ audience - please respect this and do not interact with such content if you are a minor.
(s) = smut
(sg) = suggestive
(f) = fluff
(a) = angst
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♫ tonight's the night, the night that cinema comes to life
୨୧ summary: a night with the hot nerd you've been eyeing has effectively taken over your mind. it's mutual, of course — jisung's been thinking about you all day too. and now that you're alone with him again, you want him to show you.
୨୧ pairing: nerd!han jisung x popular!fem!reader
୨୧ genre: college!au, minimal fluff, smut MDNI.
୨୧ word count: 6.1k
୨୧ warnings: 18+, explicit language, praise, pet names (baby), light choking, voyeurism, male masturbation, spit, thigh riding, fingering, handjob, light degradation, edging, sub!jisung, plot is basically just movies and sex lmao
୨୧ author's note: this is a continuation of me, the loser? hehe. i can't lie, i really liked this when i started it and ended up hating it by the end lol. i got super lazy :( hopefully some of you still enjoy it <3
jisung wakes up the next morning with only one thought running through his head: what the fuck happened last night?
not because he can’t remember it (he can remember it all very vividly), but because it doesn’t make sense. you’re you — gorgeous, popular, desired by many. and he’s him — nerdy, quiet, unnoticed by most.
yet as the night unfolded from something desperate to something tender, none of that seemed to matter. you sat side by side on your bed watching a movie like it was normal; he pointed out little details that you wouldn’t have noticed otherwise and you nodded your head in amazement at the intricacies.
midway through, you somehow ended up with your head against his shoulder and your leg lazily draped over his. and while he was internally falling apart, you seemed entirely unphased. then, once it was all over and he reluctantly told you he needed to head back to his dorm, you didn’t send him off without your number in his phone and a kiss on the cheek.
so now here he is, sitting in the dining hall with his friends, staring at your contact like it’ll offer him advice. the photo you set stares back at him, wide smile and bright eyes drawing him in. is he supposed to text you? wait for you to text him? if he does text, what does he say?
but he can’t dwell on it any longer because the conversation suddenly shifts to him, pulling him out of his own thoughts. he should’ve known that disappearing upstairs with one of the prettiest, most popular girls on campus would lead to an interrogation the next day.
truthfully, after all of the night’s events, his mind is in shambles. all he can think about is how good you felt grinding against him, how sinful you sounded moaning his name, and how delicious you tasted on his tongue. hopefully jeongin and hyunjin wouldn’t be able to tell he’s currently losing it over you.
“so, how was the rest of your night?” hyunjin probes, chewing innocently despite his intent. of course he wants to know all the deep, dirty details.
jisung doesn’t bite. not yet, at least. the two boys will surely pry it out of him regardless. “uh, it was good,” he answers simply. flashes of you — far from innocent — flicker through his eyes like a film reel and he has to blink them away.
“just good?” hyunjin quirks an eyebrow. “you went upstairs and then nobody saw you again after. for a second, i thought y/n was a succubus and dragged you to hell.” his friends both break into laughter at that, but jisung just shakes his head.
“not a succubus,” he mutters, “she’s really sweet, actually.”
“yeah?” jeongin asks with a smirk that only grows slyer when jisung nods. maybe they both know he means it in more ways than one.
unfortunately, neither of his friends would take “good” for an answer. they know that he’s much less unabashed than them, but that matters little. you’re one of the girls even they haven’t had a chance with, and they were dying to know what it is that makes every guy you’ve slept with come running back for more.
“you know we’re gonna need more details,” jeongin continues. “how was it? did you make her cum? you wore a condom, right?”
jisung’s face heats up and he coughs awkwardly, trying to not choke on the bite he’s just taken.
clearly, they think you two actually fucked. it’s a fair assumption, considering how you vanished together from everyone’s sight for the remainder of the night. and he definitely wouldn’t have been opposed to it, but that’s simply not how things went.
“i – no, we didn’t – ”
he’s struggling to get the words out and they’re staring at him expectantly. thankfully, his saving grace comes at the perfect moment, and he can tell it’s you before he even looks beside him. it might be creepy that he can already recognize your perfume, but it’s not his fault you smell so intoxicating.
“hi, boys,” you smile sweetly, first at hyunjin and jeongin across from you, then at jisung next to you. your eyes linger on him, soft yet swirling with something unspoken, and he curses himself for what it does to him. all he can think about is how those same eyes pooled with raw desire not even twenty-four hours ago.
you have to stop staring at him. if not, he might be stuck in the dining hall until his dick decides to stop going haywire over one look. it’s a little emptier because it’s the weekend, but still — letting anyone see him with a very prominent glimpse of his arousal would send him straight to his coffin.
“y/n!” hyunjin beams, “what a surprise. we were just talking about you.”
thank god for hyunjin. his comment tears your eyes away from jisung, and now he feels like he can breathe again. “oh really? should i be worried?” you giggle, resting your chin on your palm.
“nah. we were just inquiring about the night you shared with our dear jisung here,” he reveals indifferently, no shame whatsoever. if he wasn’t already very aware of your own forwardness, jisung might’ve been worried that his friends would scare you off.
but then he remembers you’re much more like them than you’re like him. so to you, sex isn’t some taboo subject to be spoken about in hushed whispers; it’s just another part of life. sex with you, though, couldn’t possibly be “just another part of life.” it would probably be the cause of his ascension to heaven.
“oh,” you say simply, leaning in over the table and tilting your head. “and? did you find out everything you want to know?”
“not exactly. he’s pretty tight-lipped,” jeongin cuts in, sighing dramatically.
you turn to jisung briefly, noting the way he’s hanging his head a little lower, trying to avoid eye contact. he’s clearly flustered, and it’s cute. he spares you a quick glance when you reach for his hand under the table and squeeze just once. “well, what questions do you have? you know i’m an open book,” you shrug.
hyunjin and jeongin exchange looks, a little uncertain now that you’re actually offering up the answers. but they obviously won’t get them from jisung, so this is their only opportunity. they’d be fools to not take it.
“what did you guys end up doing after you left?”
“hm,” you tap your finger on your chin, feigning ponderance. “well, let’s see. we went upstairs and chatted for a bit. then i brought him back to my place and we had unbelievable, earth-shattering sex. literally life-changing.”
you emphasize the words with an especially sultry drawl of your voice, and it’s enough to make even jisung melt despite knowing their inaccuracy. nobody speaks at first, and you’re in disbelief that they believed your exaggerated lie so easily.
boys. so painfully, adorably stupid.
“holy shit,” jeongin mumbles. hyunjin can’t even formulate a thought. when you snort at their reactions, they’re utterly confused.
“i’m kidding, you idiots,” you roll your eyes. “we just watched a movie and then he went back to his dorm. right, ji?”
you squeeze his hand under the table again and the jolt goes straight to his pants. jesus. he can’t look at you or touch you in any capacity without going crazy.
“right…” he nods.
conveniently, you left out the part where you made him cum in his boxers and he ate you out like you were his last meal. you wouldn’t have shied away from delving deeper typically, but you were mindful of jisung’s boundaries. if he didn’t want to share, you wouldn’t, either.
the other two deflate instantly, clicking their tongues in disappointment. and while they don’t push further, they both know there must’ve been far more beyond chatting and a movie.
“anyways, i only stopped by because i wanted to ask if you’d come over again tonight,” you direct your attention to jisung, watching his face subtly light up at your request. “it’s only fair you watch the batman for me since i sat through 3 hours of interstellar for you.”
there’s too many thoughts running through his head right now. one, why did you choose to ask him this in person rather than over text? two, you actually wanted him to come over again? and three, how dare you say “sat through” like those three hours weren’t pure cinema?
none of those questions make it past his lips, though. “i’ve already seen the batman – ” he begins before jeongin kicks him under the table. a silent bro, shut the fuck up. “i mean, no, yeah, that sounds cool. that sounds great.”
you don’t seem to notice any of their interaction, grinning happily at his acceptance. it’s strange how badly you want to spend time with him again — not just sexually, either. there’s something so natural about being with him. it feels authentic in a world full of facades because he’s nothing like anyone else you surround yourself with.
and perhaps that is everything you need.
“perfect. you know my address now, so just be there at seven?”
he doesn’t even have a chance to confirm the time with you before you’re off, throwing quick goodbyes over your shoulder. his eyes follow you all the way out of the building, smiling dopily without realizing it.
when he snaps out of it, his friends are blinking at him in both amazement and amusement.
“‘right, ji?’” jeongin mocks, “dude. nickname basis already? what the hell are you packing?”
“and she wants to see you again tonight? just how ‘life-changing’ was the sex?” hyunjin adds, narrowing his eyes.
even he doesn’t have the answers they’re looking for. he isn’t sure why you’ve taken a liking to him. all he knows is that he’s so damn grateful.
promptly at seven, jisung arrives at your apartment, clad in a hoodie, sweatpants, and his glasses. always his glasses. and he sure doesn’t complain when you grab his wrist and drag him all the way to your room. in fact, it offers him a chance to stare at your ass from behind you, barely covered by the miniscule fabric of your shorts.
“i have the place to myself for the night, thank god,” you announce once you’re in your room, spinning around on your heels. he hopes he was able to avert his eyes quick enough for you to not notice where they were lingering.
“oh,” he says quietly. so it’s just the two of you. why is he suddenly so nervous again? “where’d your roommate go?”
you lean down and adjust one of the pillows you’ve arranged on your bed. this time, you’ve prepared the whole scene; your bed is set up for maximum coziness and there’s an assortment of snacks and drinks on your dresser. this is what you’ve decided to spend your saturday night doing, and something about it has his mind spinning with all the future possibilities.
could this maybe become something more? could you possibly want more with him? would he even be able to handle that? his reaction to the thought alone leaves him doubtful.
“out. she begged me to come with her, but i’m drained,” you groan.
“you had a long night,” he comments. it’s not intended to be provocative or teasing, but it lands that way.
a devilish grin spreads across your face. “so did you,” you remind, falling to your mattress. when you scoot to make room for him and pat the empty space beside you, he’s left standing there like an idiot. “are you gonna sit? you’re not scared of me now, are you? i don’t bite.”
there’s a faint purplish red mark on his neck that says otherwise. he’s pretty sure his lips are still a little swollen from you biting them, too. and don’t forget about his earlobe either.
“if you don’t bite, i’m really worried about where this came from,” he pulls his hoodie down to expose your handiwork fully. you sit up on your knees and reach up to trace your fingers over it, pretending to not notice how he shudders beneath your touch.
the sight of it sends your mind into a frenzy, memories of its origin flashing through it. you’re reminded of how he essentially encouraged you to mark him. “wow. someone is really talented at their craft.”
“‘craft?’” he snorts. “your craft is leaving hickeys on men?”
you grab the collar of his hoodie to yank him closer, dropping your voice to a breathy whisper. “not just any men. nerdy submissive men who want me to mark them up,” you purr. he’s stunned into silence, putty in your hands just from words. it’s enthralling, the power you hold over him.
“now, let’s indulge ourselves in the best superhero, shall we?” you ask, snapping back into the usual upbeat version of yourself. the version that makes him wonder if he imagined the last thirty seconds.
this time, when you release your grip on his hoodie and settle back against the pillows, he slides right next to you — still wondering how you manage to go from dangerously alluring to innocently charming in the blink of an eye.
“unless we’re watching spiderman, please don’t say that again.”
jisung is done for.
it’s only his second night of actually interacting with you beyond quick greetings when your friend groups intermix. his second night of seeing the real you, the one that sighs dreamily over battinson and makes jokes about paul dano’s riddler being a redditor (he laughs and prays that you never end up seeing his reddit karma).
and yet his heart is doing this weird thing it hasn’t done in years, since his last relationship all the way back in high school. it beats faster when you smile and lean into him during your favorite scenes, and he realizes then just how much he loves your smile. he loves it even more when it’s directed at him.
maybe he shouldn’t turn this into anything, but he can’t stop envisioning waking up next to you or bringing you on cute café dates. before, he would steal glances at you just because you were pretty. now, he can’t stop looking at you because everything about you is addictive and he needs constant confirmation that all of this is real.
unfortunately, the hours pass by quicker than jisung hoped — filled with laughter, unwarranted criticism on his end (he’s really just trying to get back at you for your disrespect to interstellar), and him trying not to pass away when you reach over him for your drink and your chest brushes against his arm.
once the credits start rolling, he wonders if he’s supposed to initiate the goodbyes. but you don’t make any attempt to move from the bed, instead sitting up and turning to face him.
“you can’t tell me that’s not a five star movie,” you declare. “plus, robert pattinson is so yummy.”
he scrunches his face up and shakes his head adamantly. “his bruce wayne is just an angsty emo boy,” he scoffs.
“it’s been one movie,” you retort. “besides, what if i like angsty emo boys?” your tone is light and playful, but it still evokes a strange sense of unease that he knows is unreasonable.
“doesn’t really seem like your type,” he mutters, hoping it sounds indifferent.
clearly, it doesn’t. the calculated flutter of your eyelashes and slight tilt of your head tells him you’ve seen right through him. you’re driving him crazy on purpose, trying to pry a confession out of him. “what’s my type, then, ji?” you question, voice softened in that maddening way that could make him give you anything.
“you know…” he motions his hands like it’s obvious, “the normal ones. popular, good-looking. like hyunjin or jeongin.”
not like me, he thinks. if you lined up every guy you’ve ever been with, he’s pretty sure he’d be the only outlier. should that make him feel honored or worried? that’s one of the many things he hasn’t quite yet worked out.
“funny,” you begin, though your expression is devoid of humor, “i’m pretty sure you’re the one i chose to make out with.”
“which i still don’t understand.”
for as smart as he is, jisung is really clueless sometimes. it’s teetering on the thin line between adorable and making you want to rip your hair out.
“what’s there to not understand?” you ask. “you remember the dare, right? ‘make out with the hottest guy here?’ that was you.”
he’s quiet, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. you want — need — him to know that although it was a stupid dare, it wasn’t a lie or a mistake. every guy there was attractive, sure, but there was something about jisung that pulled you in. and now, you were completely enraptured.
“and i’m glad it was you. i’ve been thinking about last night all day,” you add truthfully. the way you say it so casually already has him starting to spiral.
“you have?” he asks incredulously, eyebrows quirking under the rim of his glasses.
“mhm,” you nod, a smile playing on your lips. “you haven’t?”
your pout leaves him scatter-brained, struggling to respond despite the answer being very obvious. yes, last night is all he’s thought about. in the shower, during his marvel rivals session, while chatting with his friends, on the way to your apartment. it’s been on a constant loop that he’s really surprised hasn’t gotten him into trouble yet (aside from being the reason his team lost his last rivals game). “no! or – fuck – yes. yes i have,” he huffs out.
a beat passes, one that feels too long and too quiet. you’re studying him, scanning every inch of his face wordlessly. should he be the one to speak again? should he have lied? do you think it’s weird that he has thought about you nonstop? his overthinking and second-guessing is really going to drive you both crazy.
and then you cut through the brief silence with a question he didn’t expect you to ask with such confidence.
“did you jerk off thinking about it?”
he almost chokes at both your forwardness and accuracy. god, how do you have him all figured out? this morning, right after he woke up and the memories of the previous night came rushing back, he just couldn’t help himself.
“no...” he lies halfheartedly, and you don’t believe it for a second. he’s never been a good liar, and it’s ten times more difficult to lie to you. especially when you’re looking at him like this, an angel wrapped in sin.
your finger finds its way under his chin, lifting it so that he can’t look anywhere besides directly at you. “don’t lie to me,” you demand, eyes big and round as they undo him.
“...yeah i did,” he mumbles shamefully.
he tries to turn his head away, but then your fingers are on his jaw, holding him in place. so instead, he squeezes his eyes shut to avoid your stare. he can’t possibly face you now that he’s admitted to something so private and embarrassing.
but you don’t find it embarrassing at all. it’s only further proof that jisung is an intriguing mystery — nerdy, shy, quiet, yet downright filthy beneath it all. and you want to learn every bit of him, from the loser on the surface to the freak hidden within.
“show me.”
his eyes snap open at that. he half-expects you to burst into laughter and tell him you’re only joking. a larger part of him knows that you’re not; he’s discovered your boldness has no bounds.
“wha – what?” he stammers.
“show me,” you order again, “show me how you got off to the thought of me.”
not joking, no laughter. you’re genuinely asking him to do this, and rather than immediately denying, he’s actually considering it. more than considering it. he’s already internally agreed.
he’s never masturbated in front of anyone before, of course. it’s always been a sacred act shared between him and his hand, but the idea of you watching now is too tempting.
“you want me to jerk off in front of you?” he gulps, just to make sure he hasn’t misunderstood.
you lean forward, trailing your finger from his jaw along his neck, your touch featherlight against his skin. then comes the rest of your fingers splayed on the flesh, an unfamiliar yet enticing sensation. there’s no pressure at first, just your hand wrapped around his throat delicately. you’re trying to gauge his reaction — waiting for him to give you the signal that this is okay.
and to him, it’s more than okay. there’s a slight nod of his head that gives you the go ahead, and your grip tightens, pressing into the sides of his neck firmer.
“mhm,” you hum, emphasizing your words with a slight squeeze, “will you do that for me, ji?”
how you’ve managed to sound so sweet while asking him to do something obscene is beyond him. “fuck,” he curses under his breath. he’d do anything for you at this point. “yeah i can. i will.”
he misses your grasp as soon as it leaves his throat; he’ll probably end up jerking off to the memory of it tomorrow too. but for now, he’s just left thinking about it while you settle back onto your knees.
“you’re so good for me,” you praise, pressing one chaste kiss to his jaw. “here, i’ll even help you out.” you maneuver over him and swing over the edge of the bed. once you’re on your feet, you hook your fingers into your shorts and shimmy them down hastily (not that they were covering much, anyways). now, you’re left in just your underwear and the tight tank top that’s been driving him crazy all night.
pathetically, he immediately feels his dick twitch in his boxers, springing to life just at the sight of you in less clothing. it probably doesn’t help that your nipples are poking against the fabric and holy shit.
there’s a very visible damp patch on your panties. were you this wet during the whole movie?
“you’re soaked,” he comments, and he sounds mesmerized.
“surprised again?” you chuckle. “i told you, i’ve been thinking about it all day.”
now that he knows you’ve been having the same desperate thoughts as him — coupled with the fact that you look so incredibly sexy standing before him nearly naked — he feels a bit emboldened. the question comes out before he can stop himself.
“can i…touch you?”
even you’re taken aback by his abruptness, almost giving in at first. “so sweet of you to ask, sungie. but no,” you deny harshly, then softer, “not yet. need you in less clothes and stroking your cock for me first, yeah?”
he doesn’t have a chance to argue (not that he would) before you’re crawling on top of him seductively, situating yourself in a very familiar position. you’re back in his lap, pulling him back to the memory of last night.
“here we are again. but you like it, don’t you?” you tease.
that’s the understatement of the year. he fucking loves it, and if he were to be smited down right here, right now, he’d die a happy man. “y-yeah. i do,” he nods.
“i can tell,” you say, grinding down against the bulge in his sweatpants. it pulls a moan from the back of his throat, and you lean down until your lips brush against his ear. “pathetic.”
but in an instant you draw back, fingers toying with the hem of his hoodie. he knows what you want without asking, so to satisfy you he sits up, back lifting off the headboard, and pulls it up and over quickly.
as a reward, you slide down to his knees and reach your hand into his sweats and boxers, wrapping around his hardened length. he’s already leaking, and you spread it along his slit with your thumb, grinning when he whimpers at your deliberately slow actions.
jisung’s only granted a few quick pumps before you remove your hand entirely, now pulling at the waistband of his pants. ever so helpful, he raises his hips just enough for you to be able to pull them down to his mid-thighs, along with his boxers. his cock springs free, pink tip glistening with precum.
when you touch him again, it’s only to drag your finger along his shaft tantalizingly. the sharpness of your long nails causes his breath to hitch, especially as you trace along one of the prominent veins. it’s a delicious light pain, the slight dig into his flesh making him forget all about your original request.
“i’d love to keep going, but that’s not what i asked for, is it?” you coo, yanking your hand away just as he begins to think maybe you’ll give him more. he shakes his head weakly, eager to be touched but just as eager to listen. and maybe also a little fearful that you’ll stop entirely if he doesn’t.
he watches, bewitched, as you tilt your head down and spit, saliva dribbling down and landing on his cock messily. “go on, baby. i think i helped you enough.”
“enough” isn’t quite right — he wants more, but he still slips his hand down and takes himself into his fist, using your spit as lubrication for his strokes. they’re slow and restrained, not yet fully confident with your eyes on him.
even though he’s still adjusting to being watched, he secretly loves it. he loves seeing you bite your bottom lip between your teeth, loves how you don’t look away once, and really loves when you roll your hips against his leg involuntarily, desperate for some form of relief.
“talk to me,” you instruct breathily, “tell me what you’re thinking about.”
he quickens his pace, pumping himself with more purpose. his mind is filled with all the images from last night along with his own added fantasies. if he’s lucky, he’ll get to fulfill them with you one day. and if he’s not, at least he’ll have his perverted brain to keep him going.
“thinking about you,” he pants. “how good you tasted. how pretty you looked cumming on my tongue.” a ragged moan escapes him when he squeezes his base harder with his strokes, remembering your fucked out expression as he lapped at you through your orgasm.
“yeah? i looked pretty?” you purr.
you rut your hips again, leaving a second wet spot, this time on his sweatpants. he catches a glimpse of it and it ruins him, hand moving frantically because he’s so desperate and he doesn’t think he’ll last long. “so pretty. the prettiest,” he rasps.
“you’re so sweet, ji. and i like being nice to sweet guys.”
he isn’t sure what exactly “nice” entails, but he has several ideas that he would very much enjoy. like feeling your mouth with your perfect pink lips wrapped around him, or being buried deep in your pussy as you ride him.
instead, you reach down and cup his balls, fondling them while he strokes himself, hardly maintaining a rhythm. “keep going. i know there’s more in that filthy head of yours,” you order, almost riding his thigh at this point.
oh, there’s so much more. you don’t even know the half of it. for a guy that doesn’t have much sex, his fantasies are endless.
“i thought about how you’d look giving me head...your mouth, your tongue, your lips. i want all of it.” with your hand working in tandem with his strokes, he’s lost all composure, words tumbling out of him without a second thought.
“greedy, aren’t you?” you taunt. “c’mere. i’ll give you all of it.” he sits up immediately, having sunken against the pillows and headboard in his reckless desire. you lean forward to meet him halfway, lips crashing together sloppily. it’s not exactly what he had in mind by his admission, but he was more than happy to kiss you again.
unlike last night, something in him compels him to take more control, sliding his tongue across your bottom lip and pushing inside hungrily. there’s the familiar taste of your lipgloss again, the one he’s engrained into memory after just one night.
his hand slows, more focused on kissing you and tasting every inch of your mouth, but his languid strokes are still enough to bring him closer to the edge. but then you pull back, leaving him confused and a little pouty.
“tell me,” you begin, breathless, “when you came, what exactly did you picture?”
it takes him only a second to recount the visual that swirled in his mind as he spurted onto his chest at nine in the morning. his eyes were barely open before he was yanking his boxers down.
“you riding me. bouncing on my cock, telling me how good it feels. yeah…that got me off quick,” he clears his throat, feeling a little sheepish. as if he isn’t currently jerking himself off in front of you and hasn’t already divulged some of his other dirty thoughts.
“hm,” you hum, “next time, ‘kay?”
he can’t tell if he’s disappointed or excited. disappointed that he has to wait, excited at the prospect of a “next time.” either way, he chokes out an agreement that falters to a groan; he’s back to fucking his fist desperately, chasing after that familiar high.
“now stop,” your voice snaps him out of it entirely.
as if you’ve physically wounded him, his face settles into something pitiful and pleading. you wish you could commit it to memory. “w-what?” he sputters, slowing but not stopping.
“you didn’t hear me? i said stop.”
“but i’m — shit. i’m so close,” he whines.
you position yourself on all fours between his legs, bringing your face impossibly close to his. “you’ve been doing so good listening. would you want to disappoint me now?” you warn.
never in a million years.
“no,” he sighs, dropping his hand to the bed dejectedly, wondering if your plan this whole time was to edge him to oblivion.
that’s for another day. currently, you’re not feeling cruel enough for that, and he has listened quite well. so you fall back against the mattress beside him and slide off your panties easily, tossing them somewhere in your room. silently, he prays somehow you’ll forget about them and he can sneak out with them. god, pervert.
and then you reach over and wrap your hand around his cock, picking up right where he left off. your leg crosses over his, thighs spread wide. “touch me,” you purr. “please, ji. we’ll make each other feel so good.”
looking over, he finds you rubbing your clit lazily with your free hand. it flips a switch in him, slinking his hand down to replace your own. he drags his digits between your folds, groaning when he feels just how wet you are.
he teases a finger at your entrance, circling around it before applying the lightest amount of pressure. you squeeze his length in retaliation, and that cancels his antics swiftly.
“no teasing, remember?” you remind.
“i remember,” he mumbles, plunging his finger into your cunt before you can utter another word. the abrupt fullness causes your movements to stutter, losing the rhythm you’ve built with your strokes.
“fuck,” you moan. you try to work your hand against him again, but it’s futile when he adds a second finger, curling them both against your sweet spot.
the skill he has with his hands makes sense when you really think about it. you might’ve shrugged him off as being clueless and inexperienced at first, but years of gaming have made him quite masterful.
if he knew all the all-nighters spent ranking up would lead to him making a pretty girl clench around his fingers, he’d have grinded even harder. because here you are, trying your hardest to pleasure him while he’s making it rather difficult (in the best way).
honestly, he doesn’t mind that you’re struggling. any touch from you — especially this kind of touch — is enough for him. he’s already been close once, and he can feel it clawing its way back, a knot in his stomach as the tension grows.
“god,” you pant, “this is so fucking hot.”
side by side in your bed, trying to bring each other to release — it’s such an intimately raunchy scene. one you knew none of the guys you usually fuck would even try to entertain.
“do you wanna know what i’ve been thinking about today?” you ask, focusing on his tip now. you’ve finally resumed a steady pace, rubbing your thumb along his slit, pumping the first couple of inches.
his own pace quickens at that, trying to lure your desires right out of you. “please,” he begs.
“i’ve been thinking,” you begin, “about letting you fuck me. giving you the control.”
the thought has crossed his mind, sure, but hearing you say it brings a whole other wave of excitement. though he’s loved being at your mercy, there’s a part of him that wants to fuck you stupid, too. to shove your pretty face into the mattress and prove to you that losers can be just as nasty.
“yeah?” he groans, unable to get much more out.
he’s basically holding himself back from fucking your hand, still driving his fingers into you as he nears his breaking point. the heel of his hand brushes against your clit each time, and you know you’re almost there as well.
“yeah. would you even be able to handle that? i mean, you probably watch porn for the plot, huh?” you taunt. pretending that he hasn’t already proven himself with his tongue and, soon, his fingers.
“no!” he denies quickly. “i’d be good. i’d make you cum.”
“then cum right now and maybe i’ll consider it.”
jisung is a good listener. it’s part of why he’s such an excellent student, and that seems to apply in the bedroom too. he spills over your hand with whiney moans, brain almost too clouded to remember you’re still needy beside him.
almost.
it’s like the second wind you get when you’re nearing exhaustion. he slips his fingers out, gliding them through your folds before landing on your clit carefully. the tight, fast circles he makes against the sensitive bud are your undoing, thighs clenching and shaking.
“ji,” you cry, “fuck, jisung.”
“see? i’ll always be good for you,” he breathes out, still lazily rubbing your pussy as you come down.
while you both lay there in the messes you’ve created, you realize that han jisung is slowly ruining you for other men. you should’ve listened when your friends said the quiet ones are the freakiest.
“you’re a liar, by the way,” he says suddenly. you turn to him in confusion, waiting for an explanation. “you said you like being nice. telling me to stop like that was very not nice.”
ah, right. part of you wants to warn him that that was only a glimpse of the torture you can enact, but you figure it’d be more fun to leave him oblivious.
“well, i still let you cum, didn’t i?” you giggle, a melodic sound that makes his heart jump again. now that he’s dealt with whatever horny demon takes over when you’re around, he’s left with only the more pure, innocent thoughts.
“yeah…yeah, i guess so.”
“exactly. so don’t make me regret it,” you rise to your knees and flick his forehead lightly, laughing when he rubs the skin afterwards. “otherwise i’ll remember this for next time. and i have a very good memory, han jisung.”
you slide over him and off the bed, grabbing the towel from your earlier shower off the floor. he catches it when you toss it at him, cleaning up as best as he can. unfortunately, your sheets are definitely still going to need a good wash.
“oh, do you?” he raises his eyebrows. “what were the names of cooper’s kids?”
goddamn him and his stupid interstellar fascination.
“not fair. i just wasn’t paying attention!” you whine, rolling your eyes when he smirks at your defeat.
he sighs dramatically, feigning disappointment as if he wasn’t already well-aware you wouldn’t be able to answer. “maybe we need to watch it again…” he trails. it almost sounds like a threat.
“no.”
and as he erupts into laughter at your immediate denial, you can’t help but smile and join him, giggling together like two idiots slowly falling for each other.
you’d never let him know that you would happily sit through any movie over and over again if it meant more time with him.
because losers are definitely your new type.
NSFW VIDEO WARNING ⚠︎ this is what originally inspired this whole thing if anyone's curious lmao.
pairing: perv!nerd!sung x popular!fem!reader synopsis: jisung is just your average nerd, practically invisible, while you are the popular, untouchable girl of his dreams—the one he fantasizes about late at night. and you want him to tutor you? tags/warnings: smut !!! mdni, they call eachother ‘baby’, brief mention of masterbation (m), switch!jisung, jisung talks way too much, he’s shy at first but he’s really just a freak, reader is lowkey pathetic, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms (f), overstimulation (f), forced orgasm kind of, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), fluff at end word count: 5.6k
{a/n} reached flow state at 3 am and couldn’t stop writing😭✌️ m.list
jisung can't believe what's happening right now. surely he must be dreaming and if not that, he must be dead and at the gates of heaven. because there's no way you—the captain of the cheer team, the literal heartbeat of greek row, and someone who could have almost every other boy (including himself) drop to their knees if you were to ask them to—are sitting on his bed, crawling towards him in slow movements as a predator would towards their prey.
and god, is jisung turned on right now (okay sure, he has been since the moment you walked in but that doesn't really compare to the raging boner he has right now)
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jisung isn't exactly what you would call your average student—he had perfect grades, is one of the top students at the university but that also played at his disadvantage in the popularity field. so, in easier words, jisung was invisible, and that in a way where he had like 2 close friends and 3 other acquaintances—which were just people he had to work with in group projects and the last time jisung must've talked to any one of them would be the very quiet "oh, sorry" he muttered when he bumped into one of them in the bathroom stalls.
and then there you were, you with your perfect smile, face, body (not that jisung stared, he had obviously just noticed from your cheer clothes at one of the games for which you and your team performed the routine—which he definitely did not just attend so he could see you) and he'll admit, he would be lying if he said that he didn't ogle you everytime you walked past him. well, a more accurate description would be eye-fucking you but he won't say that.
he calls it rewarding himself, the part where he jerks off to thoughts of you late at night after he's finished all his work. if he's not touched a book yet, then he won't be touching himself as well, although it pains him not to; but hey, it works great—good grades plus the reward of a fulfilling orgasm? hell yes.
then it happened, at this party—he spontaneously got invited to, due to him working in a group project with these guys—jisung was so sure it had been the alcohol and he was just seeing things his brain wanted him to see but no, you had been staring at him. at him!. and he was proven right when you made your way towards him and started to make stupid small talk with him. it was awkward, sure but jisung didn't even care nor did he notice as he was still in shock over the fact that you knew of his existence (also because he was too busy focusing on trying not to stutter and also trying desperately to keep his boner in check).
next thing jisung knows is that you're walking away and he has a small slip of paper in his hand with a number on it. is it your number? oh my god had he just agreed to doing your homework (not that he would mind if it meant having a chance to talk to you again).
but it wasn't homework related, well not exactly; after jisung texted the number and found it had indeed been yours he got to know that you needed his help, as in he should tutor you and he agreed, embarassingly fast he'll admit but oh well.
then for the next 2 weeks he would give you lessons in quantum mechanics, smetimes at the library and sometimes at his dorm when there was no other option.
of course, it was hard for him to sit so close next to the girl he would jerk off to late at night and act normal, not to mention keep his dick down. so, he'd always keep his head turned somewhere else, and if you were talking to him face to face his eyes would look past you at th wall or even at the floor, knowing damn well how fucked he would be if he made any amount of eye-contact at all.
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which leads to now, him half lying on his bed after you had pushed him down on it, his elbows digging in the mattress under him so he could stare at you, you who were crawling towards him, the books and his laptop with a diagram open on it being forgotton on his desk.
"i''m sick of it, jisung" you say, your voice cutting through the hum of his small desk fan.
"of- of what?" jisung's voice is a shaky rasp. he feels like his vocal cords have been replaced with sandpaper. your arms were now resting at either sides of his head and he kept his head tilted back, his gaze desperately glued to a water stain on the ceiling, refusing to look down at where you were caging him in.
"of this," you gesture vaguely towards his face, your lips dropping to a frustrated pout. "of you always looking anywhere but at me. what, do i make you feel scared or something?"
"what? no, no you don't. i'm just..." his eyes flicker toward your face for a fraction of a second—just long enough to catch the gleam in your eyes—before he jerks his gaze away again. he lets out a shaky, defeated sigh. "just trying to be a good tutor"
"a good tutor?" you repeat the words with a touch of feigned confusion, leaning in until the scent of your shampoo—something sweet and floral—completely fills his senses. "is that why you’ve spent the last hour staring at the wall while I was talking? i thought maybe i had something on my face."
"no! nothing is on your face. your face is...it’s highly symmetrical. very aesthetically pleasing. from a biological standpoint," jisung knows he's rambling and he can feel his face heating up to a degree that probably defies the laws of thermodynamics.
he took a sharp, shaky breath, his brain misfiring under the pressure of your proximity. "i mean, it's actually really hard to teach you when you're...you're a constant variable of distraction. your eyes have this specific light-reflecting quality that messes with my focus, and the way your hair smells is it's-it’s like a chemical reaction in my head that i can’t turn off."
he was speaking faster now, the words tumbling out before he could filter them. "if i look at you, my heart rate increases by at least thirty percent, which is an inefficient way to live, you know? it’s like my whole system is crashing because you’re just-you’re too much. you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen, and i’ve spent more time staring at the back of your head in the library than i have at my own notes because I’m completely pathetic and i’ve liked you since the first day of freshman year!"
the room went dead silent
jisung’s eyes go wide, his mouth hanging open as the echo of his own voice bounced off the dorm walls. he had just said it. he had just confessed to the captain of the cheer team, while being pinned under her on his own bed, in the nerdiest way possible.
his face went from red to a ghostly pale in three seconds flat. he looked like he wanted the mattress to open up and swallow him whole.
"i...i mean...from a statistical perspective..." he tried to backtrack, his voice cracking painfully. "the probability of me not liking you was...uh...zero. It was always zero."
he looked back up at the ceiling, his whole body trembling. "please forget i said that. can we go back to the physics? i’ll look at the wall again. the wall is safe. the wall doesn't make my heart stop."
but you didn't pull away. in fact, you let out a tiny, melodic giggle that seemed to vibrate right through his chest, making his heart skip a beat or three. you leaned down even further, until your nose was almost brushing his, your eyes dancing with a mischievous light.
"the wall, jisung? really?" you teased, your voice a soft, playful lilt. "you’d rather stare at a piece of drywall than at the 'biological anomaly' currently sitting on your lap? i'm hurt. my ego is taking a serious hit here."
you pouted, a fake, dramatic expression that only made him turn a deeper shade of plum. you reached out, using your index finger to gently turn his chin back toward you, forcing him to abandon the safety of the ceiling.
"and here i thought you were a man of science," you whispered, a slow, triumphant smirk spreading across your face. "a scientist doesn't just look at the data from afar, jisung. they perform experiments. they...collect hands-on evidence"
you shifted your weight playfully, feeling him go completely rigid beneath you. "so, if your heart rate is up thirty percent just from looking at me, i wonder what the percentage increase would be if i did...this?"
you leaned in and pressed a lingering, feather-light kiss to the corner of his jaw, right where his pulse was thrumming like a trapped bird.
jisung let out a sound that was half-gasp, half-whimper, his hands twitching against the sheets as if he were fighting the urge to grab your waist and never let go.
"i...i think that would lead to...total cardiovascular collapse" he managed to squeak out, though his eyes were now glued to your lips, his professionalism hanging by a very thin, very frayed thread.
"well," you hummed, your breath warm against his skin as you moved toward his other ear, "since you’ve been studying me in your head for so long…don't you think it’s time to move past the theory and get to the practical application?
you pulled back just enough to look him in the eye, your playful smirk faltering, your voice dropping into a needy, breathless whisper.
"because honestly, jisung? it’s driving me crazy. i didn't wear this for you to stare at the wall," you confessed, your heart now racing as fast as his. “i’ve been waiting for weeks for you to stop being so polite. i’m tired of being the only one who’s actually desperate here. so please, if you’re as 'pathetic' as you say you are...show me. i want you to stop thinking and just- please, just touch me"
you practically slumped against him, your forehead resting against his, your breathing becoming just as erratic as his own.
"i don't want the top student right now," you whined softly, your fingers clutching the front of his hoodie, pulling him closer until there was practically no air left between you. "i want the guy who thinks about me constantly. is he in there, or do i have to beg?"
the room went quiet again.
and he looked at you—truly looked at you—as you slumped against him, your voice needy and your fingers clutching his hoodie. the sheer, overwhelming reality of the girl of his dreams begging for him caused a total, catastrophic collapse of his social filter.
"can- can I eat your pussy?" he blurted out. the words practically exploded from his mouth in a frantic, high-pitched rush of pure panic.
his eyes immediately bugged out. he looked like he had just accidentally confessed to a federal crime. his hands, which had been hovering near your waist, flew up to cover his mouth, but it was far too late. the question was hanging in the air, vibrating between you like a live wire.
"i- i mean! not- not like, right now! or- or yes, right now? I mean- physiologically speaking!" he scrambled, his voice cracking painfully as he tried to shove the words back into his throat.
the frantic rambling was cut short as you surged forward, silencing him by crashing your lips against his.
the kiss was desperate and hot, a total collision of your pent-up frustration and his pure, unadulterated panic. jisung made a muffled, shocked sound against your mouth—a high-pitched hum of surprise—before his brain finally caught up to the fact that you were kissing him.
for a second, he was stiff, his hands hovering awkwardly in the air, but then the dam finally broke. he let out a shaky, low groan, and his arms wrapped around you. he kissed you back with the hunger of someone who had been starving for weeks, his tongue darting out to meet yours with a clumsy but intense passion.
he pulled back just a fraction of an inch, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing like you’d just run a marathon. his eyes were blown wide, pupils dilated so much there was barely any iris left.
"i-i'll take that as a yes?" he whispered, his voice incredibly hoarse, the panic still there but now heavily laced with a dark, needy courage.
"yes, jisung" you breathed against his lips, your voice sounding wrecked and impatient "yes, god, please"
the confirmation was all Jisung needed; a shaky, breathy whine escaped him as his composure finally shattered. he was agonizingly hard, but the need to finally taste you outweighed everything else. grabbing your hips with both hands, he lifted you off his lap and laid you back onto the mattress in one fluid, desperate motion.
"fuck, i can’t believe this is actually happening," he mumbled against your lips, his voice thick and unrecognizable before he crashed his mouth back onto yours.
he didn't stay there long. his lips traveled a frantic path down your jawline to the sensitive skin of your neck, his breath hot and ragged. his hands, still trembling slightly, drifted beneath the hem of your fitted tee. he pulled back just enough to tug the shirt over your head, and you let him, watching the way his eyes widened as they raked over you.
"fuck, you’re- you’re perfect," he whispered, his voice full of a raw, quiet worship.
a small giggle bubbled up from your throat, and jisung froze, looking at you with a confused, blinking expression—like a deer caught in headlights.
"what? did I... did I do something wrong?" he asked, his insecurity flickering back for a second.
you reached up, cupping his face. "no, it’s just...unusual to hear you swear"
he let out a short, self-deprecating huff of a laugh, his face flushing a deep crimson even as he leaned into your touch. "yeah, well," he muttered, his gaze dropping to your chest as he settled back between your legs, his hands sliding up your thighs. "my vocabulary tends to fail me when I'm looking at something this beautiful. i’m- i’m losing my mind a little bit"
now it was your turn to blush. lacking the words to match his, you reached behind your back, unhooked your bra, and tossed it toward the corner of the bed.
when you looked back at jisung, he looked like he’d just seen a miracle. he was practically dazed, his mouth slightly open as his eyes took you in. "oh my god" he muttered, his voice dropping into a low, reverent tone. he didn't hesitate this time; he leaned down, his lips searching and finding one of your nipples, drawing it into his mouth with a soft, needy groan.
his hand found your other breast, his fingers squeezing and massaging the flesh. he seemed to be living for every sound you made—every soft whimper and shallow pant fueled his confidence.
as you began to grind your hips up and down against his thigh, seeking friction against the heavy ache between your legs, jisung let out a choked sound into your skin. he pressed his leg up higher into you, meeting your movements with a rhythmic pressure that made your toes curl.
“jisung- shit, please do something, baby” you panted, your hands cupping his face and forcing his gaze to yours.
the nickname seemed to flip a switch in him. He didn’t need to be told twice. he trailed a path of hot, wet kisses down your stomach, his breath hitching as he reached the waistband of your skirt. he looked up at you one last time, eyes dark and hazy with a mix of worship and pure, unrefined lust, before pulling the fabric down.
when you were left in just your panties, jisung looked absolutely wrecked. he stared at the way the soft cotton looked against your skin, and when he caught sight of how much you’d already soaked through the fabric, a streak of unexpected, dark confidence took over. he decided he could afford to tease you just a little bit more.
he gripped your knees, spreading your legs even wider until you were completely open for him. then, he leaned in and spit, actually spit right over the existing wet patch. you let out a choked gasp, watching him watch his saliva dribble down and soak into the material.
he didn't stop there. he used his index and middle fingers to rub the moisture into the fabric, his eyes fixed on the way the cotton turned translucent. he was pressing down just enough to feel you, watching the wet outline of your pussy start to peek through the thin material.
"look at you," he rasped, his voice sounding nothing like his shy self from an hour ago. "you’re so wet for me. i haven't even touched you properly yet, and you're already making a mess of these."
your hand clamped around his wrist, tugging desperately as your hips bucked off the mattress. "ji, stop teasing," you choked out, your voice ragged, that at hearing it made his pupils blow out until his eyes were almost entirely black.
jisung let out a sharp, jagged breath, the sound vibrating with the same desperation you were feeling. "okay," he whispered, the word sounding more like a vow. "okay, baby."
he didn't waste another second. he hooked his thumbs into the sides of your soaked panties and peeled them down your legs, tossing them somewhere toward the foot of the bed without even looking. when he saw you completely bare, he made a soft, broken sound in the back of his throat.
he didn't wait. he moved between your knees, his large hands gripping your thighs and spreading them as wide as they could go, pinning you open. he leaned in until his face was inches away, his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive skin, making you shiver uncontrollably.
jisung let out a low, shaky groan as he breathed you in. the scent of you seemed to finish him off. he leaned in so close that his breath fogged up his glasses, making him hiss in frustration.
without taking his eyes off you, he reached up and yanked the frames off his face, tossing them onto the nightstand. without them, his gaze felt even more intense and raw. he gripped your thighs hard, his knuckles turning white as he pinned you open. he took one last, ragged breath against your skin before finally burying his face between your legs.
his tongue hit you with a broad, wet stroke that made your entire body jump. It wasn't hesitant at all; he licked you from bottom to top, tasting every bit of the mess he'd been staring at. a loud, broken moan escaped you, and the sound only seemed to make him more frantic.
he hummed into your skin, the vibration sending sparks straight to your core. his hands moved from your thighs to your hips, digging in to hold you still as he started to suck on your clit. he was focused and obsessive, using his tongue in sharp, rhythmic movements.
you were shaking now, your fingers tangling in his hair and pulling him closer and every time you tried to pull away from the intensity, his grip tightened, refusing to let you go. he drank you in like he was starving, his breathing heavy and loud in the quiet room. you could feel his hot tongue swirling and flicking, perfectly hitting the spot over and over until your vision started to blur.
when you finally snapped, your back arched off the bed and you cried out his name, your body shaking with a climax that felt like it was tearing through your nerves. you expected him to pull back, to look up and ask if you were okay with that shy smile.
but jisung didn't stop.
he didn't even slow down. if anything, he got more aggresdive. as your body tried to settle, he kept his tongue moving in those same relentless, rhythmic laps, ignoring the way your legs trembled and gave out.
"jisung- wait, stop, it’s too much," you sobbed out, your hands feebly pushing at his shoulders. your skin was so sensitive it almost hurt, every touch feeling like a live wire. "please, baby, i can't... it's too much"
he didn't listen. he let out a muffled, stubborn grunt against your skin, his fingers digging into your hips to keep you pinned firmly against his mouth. he was obsessive, hovering right over your clit and flicking his tongue with a terrifying level of focus. he was determined to find that second peak, pushing you right back over the edge before you could even catch your breath.
"please," you whined, your head tossing back and forth on the pillow, your voice breaking. "i’m- i’m gonna... jisung!"
he sucked harder, his breath hot and frantic, his hands shaking with the effort of holding you down. you could feel a second wave of heat building, even more intense than the first because of how raw you were. he was relentless, devouring you until your protests turned back into wordless, high-pitched screams, forcing your body into another shattering climax that left you completely spent and sobbing into the quiet room.
jisung finally pulled back, his face flushed and his lips shining. he stayed between your knees, staring at you with wide, dazed eyes as you lay there wrecked. you had one arm slung over your eyes, your chest heaving as you tried to find your breath after that second, forced peak.
the room was silent except for your ragged inhales, and the sudden shift in energy made him swallow hard. the aggressive, focused version of him seemed to vanish, replaced instantly by that familiar, fluttering nerves.
"baby?" he whispered, his voice cracking. He reached out, his hand trembling as he brushed a damp strand of hair away from your forehead. "baby, please... can i- can i be inside you now? i really need to be inside you."
the shy nature was back in full force, but his eyes were still dark with a desperate, physical need. he looked like he was vibrating, his body wound tight as he waited for your permission. he looked so vulnerable, hovering over you while his heart hammered against his ribs loud enough for you to hear.
"i’ve been so good," he added in a small, breathless voice, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. "please tell me it's okay."
you peeked out from under your arm, your vision still blurry and your body feeling like liquid. you were in total shock. the boy who had just ruthlessly forced two orgasms out of you with nothing but his tongue was gone. in his place was jisung, looking at you with wide, watery eyes like a kicked puppy, his lip practically trembling as he waited for your answer.
the contrast was enough to give you whiplash. a minute ago he was an obsessive machine, ignoring your pleas to stop; now, he looked like he was one "no" away from apologizing for existing.
"yes," you blurted out, the word leaving your throat before you could even think to play hard to get. "yes, please. right now"
the speed of your answer made him blink, a tiny, stunned smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. you reached up, your fingers shaky as you cupped his burning cheeks, pulling him down closer.
"you were so good, jisung," you whispered, your voice still wrecked. "so good. and you look... god, you look so pretty like this"
the compliment seemed to short-circuit him. his breath hitched, and he leaned his forehead against yours, his nose brushing yours. "pretty?" he repeated, a soft, embarrassed huff of laughter escaping him even as he shifted his weight. "no one’s ever called me that."
"well, you are," you whined, your hips lifting instinctively to meet him, your patience officially gone. "now stop talking and just- get in."
the urgency in your voice made jisung practically scramble to get his clothes off, his movements clumsy and frantic until he was finally kneeling between your legs again. he wrapped his hand around himself, giving a few sharp, desperate tugs that made him hiss through his teeth before he lined himself up with you.
he tried to be slow, he really did, but the second he felt your heat, his self-control just snapped. he surged forward, burying himself inside you in one deep, sudden push that made you cry out, your head falling back into the pillows.
"i’m sorry, baby," he gasped, his voice breaking as he looked down at you with wide, dazed eyes. "i just- god, you’re so... you feel so good, i couldn’t stop myself"
he stayed still for a heartbeat, letting you adjust, his hands trembling where they gripped your waist. then, he let out a long, shaky breath and began to move, his hips pulling back before sliding back in with a slow, heavy rhythm that made his eyes flutter shut.
he found his rhythm quickly, hips snapping forward with a new, frantic energy. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath ghosting over your skin as he groaned into your shoulder. the slow, careful movements were gone, replaced by a pace that grew quicker and more desperate with every second.
he sounded wrecked, his voice reduced to low, needy hitches as he felt you tightening around him. one of his hands slid up from your waist, his fingers searching until they found your breast. he started to play with your nipple, rolling and tugging it in sync with his thrusts, his touch surprisingly firm.
"you’re so warm," he choked out against your skin, his body trembling with the effort to keep up. he was moving faster now, his skin slick with sweat as he chased the feeling of you. he didn't look up, he just kept his head tucked away, losing himself in the friction and the soft, broken sounds you were making under him.
when he felt your body start to tense, the internal ripples of your muscles clenching around him, and it nearly sent him over the edge right then. but he gritted his teeth, determined to have you cum first.
"fuck," he panted into your skin, his voice thick and strained. "come for me again, baby. please need you to"
he shifted his weight, driving in harder and faster, his hips hitting yours with a frantic, wet slap. his fingers on your nipple tightened, twisting just enough to make your breath hitch, while his other hand reached down between your bodies. he found your clit—slick and swollen from his mouth earlier—and began to rub it with a rhythmic, heavy pressure that perfectly matched the pace of his thrusts.
the double sensation was too much. you were shaking, your heels digging into the mattress as you tried to keep up with him. jisung was a mess of low groans and shaky breaths, his nose nuzzling into your pulse point as he felt you starting to peak. he didn't let up for a second, his hand moving faster and his thrusts turning shallow and desperate, intentionally pushing you toward the edge until you finally shattered, his name a broken cry on your lips as you came hard around him.
as your body pulsed around him, jisung let out a loud, broken sound—half-sob, half-triumph. seeing you shatter like that was the end of his restraint. he didn't wait for your muscles to stop twitching before he let go completely.
his pace became frantic, his hips slamming into yours with a raw, desperate power that made the bed frame creak. He wasn't even trying to be quiet anymore; he was focused only on the pleasure, his head thrown back and his eyes squeezed shut as he chased his own release.
"i’m- i'm going to-" he gasped, his voice snapping as he hit his limit.
he buried his face back into your neck, his fingers digging into your hips so hard they’d leave marks, and let out a long, shaky groan as he came inside you. his entire body went rigid, his muscles jumping under your hands before he finally collapsed against you, his weight heavy and warm as he tried to remember how to breathe.
the room was silent except for the sound of your synchronized, ragged gasps. jisung stayed buried in the crook of your neck for a long time, his heart hammering like a trapped bird against your chest.
"holy... fuck," he whispered after a minute, his voice tiny and muffled against your skin. "i think... i think i just saw the beginning of the universe."
a small, airy giggle bubbled up from your chest at his dramatic words. the sound was light, but the physical reaction was immediate—the slight movement caused you to involuntarily tighten around him, your muscles giving one last, firm squeeze.
the sensation caught both of you off guard. jisung let out a sharp, strangled groan directly into your neck, and a matching sound tripped off your own tongue. it was a perfect, messy harmony in the quiet room.
"wait, wait," he panted, his voice cracking as he buried his face deeper into the pillow next to your head. "don't do that. i’m- i’m literally so sensitive right now, baby."
despite his protest, he stayed right where he was, his body heavy and warm against yours. but as his breathing started to slow down, his brain clearly started working again. you could practically feel the gears turning.
"oh god," he started, his voice muffled against your neck. "i really just said 'beginning of the universe,' didn't I? that was so embarrassing. and i swear i’m usually more composed than this, it’s just that the biological response to-"
he lifted his head slightly, his hair a total mess and his face still flushed a deep pink. "i mean, technically, the surge of dopamine and oxytocin is supposed to cause a lapse in judgment, but i feel like i just completely lost my mind for a second. was i too loud? i think i was too loud-"
you didn't let him finish. reaching up, you cupped his face and pulled him down into a firm, deep kiss.
jisung’s entire body went still, his rambling dying out instantly into a soft, surprised hum against your lips. when you finally pulled back just a few inches, he looked dazed all over again, his eyes blinking slowly as he stared at you.
"shut up, jisung," you whispered with a tired, happy smile.
he let out a tiny, breathless laugh, his forehead dropping back against yours. "yeah," he breathed, his heart finally starting to settle. "okay. shutting up now."
he stayed quiet for all of five seconds, however, before he started to fidget, his eyes darting around the room. "i should... we should probably get a towel," he whispered, though he made no move to get up. "or at least some water? you’re probably dehydrated. i know i am. my throat actually hurts. is that normal? i feel like i ran a marathon, but, like, a marathon where i-"
you reached up and playfully pulled at his bottom lip with your fingers, effectively cutting him off.
"right. sorry. shutting up," he breathed, a goofy, lopsided grin spreading across his face.
with a reluctant groan, he finally shifted his weight and pulled out of you, the loss of contact making you both shiver. he didn't go far, though. he grabbed his hoodie from the floor to haphazardly wipe you both down, his movements gentle and a little shy again now that the lights were back on in his brain.
once he was satisfied, he crawled back under the covers and hauled you against his chest, tucking your head right under his chin. his skin was still hot, and his arms wrapped around you like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go.
"today was supposed to be about the midterm," he murmured into your hair, his voice dropping into a sleepy, content hum. "we didn’t learn shit"
"we'll study tomorrow," you mumbled, already drifting off.
"tomorrow," jisung agreed, his voice barely a whisper as he pulled you closer, fitting his body against yours like a missing puzzle piece. "but I think I'm definitely going to need a lot more study sessions like this"
you let out a tiny, tired laugh against his chest. "of course, you do"
he hummed, a small, proud smile tugging at his lips. "i mean, i definitely put in the extra hours," he whispered, his thumb tracing soft circles on your hip. "i’m pretty sure i’ve got your weak spots memorized now. i’d say that deserves a passing grade”
“go to sleep, nerd," you teased, nudging him gently.
"goodnight, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep as he tucked his face into the crook of your neck, finally falling silent.
{a/n} i headcanon nerdsung doing yaps on purpose just so reader would shut him up with a kiss
synopsis: after watching chan’s sit down with john park, you make it your personal mission your boyfriend gets to see the stars he misses so much. it may not be in the way he suspects, but it’s heartwarming nonetheless.
pairing: bangchan x f!reader
genre: fluff
contains: reader calls chan “chris”, kissing, chan being loved and cared for and sweet :3
word count: 1.8k
now playing: i wish i was the moon - neko case
[a/n]: did i write this during my break at work? yes. did i reread literally any of it? HAHAHAH hell no :3 enjoy !!
“uh, random question.” the pause that follows isn’t long, but it stretches just long enough that it weighs heavy on your shoulders.
“do you sometimes miss seeing the star?”
chan’s voice is soft as it seeps from your computer speakers, but it still manages to punch into you like a truck.
you’d barely been holding in tears in the first place, this whole episode being too damn tragic for how calming it is to listen to, but now? after that single, simple question, you can’t quite hold it in anymore.
there had been talk of childhood, how chan and the kids haven’t gotten a break in god knows how long, how your boyfriend had been a trainee for eight years before debuting. hell, you’d gotten through him calling himself a horrible person for making the kids cry during their survival show- but this?? this hits a spot in your soul far deeper than anything has in a long time.
it takes you a minute to pull yourself together, to wipe away the tears and get your breathing to even out, but even once they’re gone the sadness still lingers.
after the video comes to a close—after your ribcage squeezes harsh around your heart at chan’s sweet laugh after muttering a small when will i get married?—you have to take a minute or two to just sit with yourself.
the thing at the top of your mind is how badly you want to hug chan when he comes home.
over the next week or so you find yourself looking outside at night more than you normally would—or really just for a different reason than before.
you used to look out to admire the city life—the cars crawling along the streets, the neon lights that flicker every now and then, the buildings that reach into the sky—but now you look for something else: the stars.
at first you think maybe chan had just be exaggerating a little bit in the video, that there were some littered across the sky, just not as much as there were back at his home in sydney.
four days in you realize he was being truthful. there’s nothing.
correction: they are definitely there, but they just aren’t visible. light pollution. cloudy skies. it all shrouds them from the human eye.
it’s disheartening, to say the least.
you’ll make do, though. you always do. and if you can’t force away light pollution to dissipate enough to see the night sky in all it’s glory, you best believe you’ll take it into your hands.
the next evening you go to three separate stores in hopes of getting your hands on what would serve to be your saving grace: glow in the dark stars.
you found a few packs at the previous stores, but they were all stupidly small and too pricy for said size. who knew that plastic stars were such a commodity these days?
it’s at the third store—a little shop tucked into a side street—that you find exactly what you need. the pack is modest, a little worn on the edges but otherwise fine. when you flip it over and see the little picture demonstrating how you could arrange them, you know its perfect.
you walk out with five packs. a little overboard? sure. do you care? absolutely not.
chan doesn't get home until late that night, long after you've already arranged the stars across your apartments ceiling in scattered constellations—some real, some completely made up.
you’ve never been super grateful for chan’s tendencies to overwork himself by staying late at the studio, but tonight you can’t help but thank him for it. the stars took a little longer to hang up than originally anticipated, and you would’ve been crushed (and just a tad bit embarrassed) if he’d walked in on you balancing haphazardly on a barstool, plastic stars in hand as you decorated rhe ceiling.
the trail starts right above the apartment's front door, a sparse scatter of luminous stars that dot the ceiling in ones and twos. as the path winds further down the hallway in intentional spirals, the stars began to multiply—three here, five there—growing denser with each step toward the bedroom. by the time the trial reaches the living room, small clusters had formed, like little galaxies emerging from the darkness.
the closer it got to the bedroom door, the thicker the constellations became, stars overlapping and crowding together until they formed an almost continuous river of light that pooled above the bed in a breathtaking canopy.
some of them even spilled from the ceiling down the corners of the walls, filling the room with the softest glow.
it’s ridiculous. childish, even. but you can’t find it in you to care, not when pride grows warm in your chest at how pretty the sight of them is.
you’re making yourself at home in bed when you hear the familiar sound of the front door opening, followed by the soft thud of chan's bag hitting the floor.
"baby?" his voice carries down the hallway, tired but warm. "you still up?"
you prop yourself up on your elbows as you call back a soft “in here.”
you hear his footsteps padding down the hallway, only making it a few feet before he stops. there's a pause, one long enough that you know he's finally noticed.
"what the..." his voice trails off, confusion laced in each syllable.
you can't help but grin as you listen to him move slowly through the apartment, following the trail you’d spent so long layong out. his footsteps are slower now, more deliberate, like he's trying to piece together a puzzle.
when he finally appears in the doorway of the bedroom, his expression is priceless.
his eyes are wide, mouth slightly parted as he takes in the layout of glowing stars above the bed.
you cant help but think he looks like a kid who's just walked into a surprise birthday party.
"did you- did you put stars on our ceiling?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper.
you sit up fully now, tucking your knees to your chest. a laugh pushes its way from your lips, finding the question obvious but also endearing. "sure did."
"but… why?" he steps further into the room, craning his neck to look up at the constellations you've created. the soft green glow catches in his dark eyes, making them shimmer.
you can’t decide what’s prettier, him or the stars.
you take a breath, suddenly feeling a little shy about the whole thing. "uh, remember that episode you did with john park? when you asked if he ever missed seeing the stars?"
chan's expression shifts immediately. recognition, then something softer. he nods slowly.
"i started looking for them after i watched that," you continue, fidgeting with the hem of chan’s your shirt. "every night for like- a week. but there's nothing out there, chris. the light pollution, the clouds... you can't see anything-"
his eyes haven't left your face, and you watch his throat bob as he swallows.
"i just- i guess i couldn't stop thinking about it. about how you've been working so hard for so long, how you barely get breaks, and how even something as simple as seeing stars got taken away from you. so..." you gesture weakly at the ceiling, cheeks feeling warm. "i thought maybe i could bring them to you instead."
the statement came out more as a question then… well, a statement.
the silence that follows feels impossibly heavy. chan just stands there, staring at you with an expression you can't quite read, and for a horrifying moment you think maybe you've overstepped somehow.
but then his face crumples into something that can only be labeled as completely and utter admiration.
"channie-" you start, pushing yourself up and off the bed with the smallest laugh, taking a step forward to wrap him in your arms.
he beats you to it.
chan crosses the room in three strides and pulls you into his arms so tightly you almost lose your breath. his face buries into your neck almost immediately, and you can feel him shaking slightly.
"you're ridiculous," he mumbles against your skin, voice thick. "you're so fucking ridiculous and i love you so much."
your hands come up to cradle the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair. "i love you too, baby."
he pulls back just enough to look at you, and god, the way he's looking at you—like you've hung the moon instead of some cheap plastic stars—makes your heart squeeze painfully in your chest.
"i can't believe you did this," he says, letting out a watery laugh. "i can't believe you listened to that stupid video and remembered and went out and bought- how many stores did you even go to?"
"three," you admit, just a tad bit sheepish.
"three," he repeats, shaking his head in disbelief. his hands come up to cup your face, thumbs stroking gently across your cheekbones. "you went to three stores to buy glow in the dark stars because i said i missed seeing the sky."
"well, when you put it like that—"
he kisses you before you can finish, soft and sweet and so full of emotion that it makes your chest ache for the nth time.
when he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours. "thank you," he whispers. "seriously. thank you."
you manage to grt in a "you're welcome," before he kisses you again, then once more for good measure.
finally, chan releases you in favor of looking back up at the stars—his stars.
he lies down on the bed, pulling you with him until you're tucked against his side, both of you staring up at the glowing ceiling.
"they're beautiful," he murmurs, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your arm. "you're beautiful. this is-" his voice catches slightly. "i think this is the nicest thing anybody’s ever done for me."
you burrow closer into his chest, letting your eyes trace the patterns above you. "you deserve nice things, chris. you deserve to see the stars."
his arm tightens around you, and for a long moment, neither of you says anything. you just lie there together in the soft green glow, wrapped up in each other while the weight of the day finally melts away.
"i don't think i'm ever going to be able to sleep without these now," chan admits quietly, a hint of humor creeping back into his voice.
you smile against his shoulder. "good thing i bought five packs then."
his laugh rumbles through his chest, warm and genuine and so utterly him that you can't help but smile wider.
"i really, really love you," he says again, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
universal warning; i wanna believe that i've warned against all possible discomforts, but i'm only human so please proceed with caution. if anything seems like it may upset you, move on. only take in what you can, when you can, if you can. and please, for me, give yourself a break today. you're enough.
please see copyright warning in the masterlist. inspiration is creation, impersonation is criminal.
a/n; whew, the first official mafia kids is here. 167 of you voted, and channie was the winner. thank you so much for all the love and feedback on the introduction fic. interaction is a writer's life blood. love you, mean it💋.
a/n²; please please please don't be a silent reader. we have seven more boys to go, if you want them. and as always, requests are open. see you soon then🤎✨.
"alright, you're cut off bub."
"my names not bob."
you stared at the two shots past tipsy close to incoherent mess of a man in front of you. he was a regular, a recent one. started coming in a couple weeks back and looked like hell. you didn't ask many questions and he didn't give many answers.
just one for you both.
"what'll you have bub?" "whiskey, neat."
and since then, whiskey neat has come in every night, sometimes ordering something, sometimes not. he didn't always sit at the bar, and he didn't always come alone. but it did always only seem to be when you were working.
you smiled at him fondly, grabbing his empty glass and putting it under the bar with the rest of the used dishware. "obviously your name's not bob, and also i said bub."
"oh," his eyes squinted, seeming to be considering something. "hey can i ask you something?"
you rose a brow, this was as most conversing as the two of you had done in nearly a month's time. but you were eager to follow the train. "you just did."
he looked at you for a beat and then snorted, you smiled.
"go on then."
"are you ever gonna leave him?"
your hand stopped mid wipe on the counter, the hairs on your arm standing up despite the warmth of the bar. you cleared you throat.
"excuse me?"
it's obvious to you that "bob" was more inebriated than he'd meant to get, or at least than he'd ever been before. jumping right from 'whiskey neat' and the occasional head nod to invasive questions about your abusive boyfriend. and of course he had yet to say your boyfriend was abusive, but the way he asked, the way he was looking at you now, he knew. something in his eyes akin to pity but not as pathetic. maybe compassion.
but then why would this stranger have compassion for you when the man you loved—huh past tense, you'd never actually stopped to consider what love lingered between you and said man, if any. but you guessed love was like fire, it couldn't survive without oxygen. and you hadn't taken a breath in months—had none.
bob didn't say anything else. didn't repeat himself, or take it back, or do anything, but stare at you.
"i'm gonna call you a cab."
"no need." a man, with a deep voice at complete odds with his sunny appearance, and an aussie accent in total sync with his sunny appearance, came in with sunglasses pushed up into his hair. and being that it was 2am you had to wonder how long they had been up there.
you'd seen sunny with bob many times before, sometimes with one or two others, sometimes with so many others they looked like a gang. but much like with bob, there hadn't been any conversation. or at least you couldn't recall one with sunny, and you're sure you would've remembered that timbre. or at least would've remembered sunny having the same aussie tinge as bob.
sunny put his arm under bob, "come on mate."
"i'm fine, far out." bob muttered even as he put his arm around sunny to steady himself.
"i know you’re fine hyung. i just want your arms around me because i missed you so much." sunny's smile was teasing as he helped bob walk.
they were almost out the door when bob turned back to look at you. "i'll be cut back on tomorrow yeah?"
"i-" you huffed an incredulous laugh. "yeah, all the booze you want tomorrow. if," you pointed, "you let sunny take you home right now."
"deal," he gifted you the softest smile.
is that the first time he's ever smiled at me?
your inner monologue was interrupted by sunny muttering, "sunny?" in the cutest, curious voice.
the man leaning on him for support just shrugged. "just go with it, she calls me bob."
you snorted as the door shut behind them.
||
when you woke up the next morning, well next night, your first thought was of bob, and if he'd returned as promised looking to be "cut back on". you wondered if he'd be disappointed to see nicki in your place. nicki, your best friend, whose bed you were currently laying in. where she'd all but carried you to after finding you on the floor of the bar this morning when she opened. everything around you bruised or broken.
you, bruised and broken.
your eyes watered as you rolled your body to a sitting position. two parts the actual pain, one part the metaphysical. because now that you were awake, all you could see in your mind’s eye was you getting the living daylights beat out of you courtesy of your boyfriend.
well ex now. you thought it was safe to say he was an ex now, if safe and him could ever be used in the same sentence.
you got out of bed, slowly, painfully, and on a bad ankle. you flinched at the light of the bathroom. then flinched at your reflection. okay, so maybe nicki's blood curdling scream and sobs while incessantly begging you to let her take you to the hospital had made sense. but you couldn't let her do that. he might look there.
what if he wasn't finished?
and it's as that thought crossed your mind you realized you had to leave her apartment. and probably, the city.
||
bangchan was seated in the backroom of the bar. he'd walked in about five minutes ago expecting to see you. you were supposed to be working. and he would've known that even if you hadn't confirmed it yesterday. he knew your schedule. knew your routines. and knew your gambling scumbag boyfriend put his hands on you when the horse he picked was a dud. so imagine his surprise when nicki greeted him. he'd seen her working some of the times he was in, knew she was the bar's owner, knew she was your best friend. maybe the only person in the world who cared about you.
at least until about four weeks ago.
bangchan had given nicki a confused stare and before he could ask any questions she was letting out a choked sob. covering her mouth and asking the other bartender, taejo, to cover for her. the man asking if she was alright to which she replied an unconvincing 'yes', making her way to the back and looking at bangchan in a way that said, 'please follow me.'
so that's how bangchan found himself sitting on the edge of nicki's desk now, handing her tissues. "it's alright nicki just, just tell me what's going on."
"it's ___-" she sobbed out, wailing into the tissue.
everything in him tensed at that. you had never given bangchan your name, he'd never given you his. but he knew what it was, of course he did. had heard other regulars say it, had heard your coworkers say it, and would've just sussed it out himself if not.
"what about ___?"
nicki, still crying turned the screen towards him, "i c-can't watch it again. i'm gonna get myself together in the bathroom. just, just press play."
bangchan didn't move. even after nicki got up. even after bangchan was sure she was gone. whatever was on this video, it had to do with you, and it was bad. really bad. and somehow, despite all the horrors he was used to, he wasn't sure he could endure it. but eventually, bangchan hit the space bar.
it was you. tidying up, flipping over barstools, sweeping one last time, ensuring the dishwasher was running, and just as you were about to leave the door chimed.
"oh for God's sake hayden left the door unlocked again." you huffed to yourself. then, louder and bubblier, thinking it was a customer, you said. "i'm sorry we're closed."
but it wasn't a customer, and bangchan recognized him. knew absolutely everything about him. bangchan’s fists clenched in his lap as the man on the screen locked the door.
you turned around at the click, "oh, jordan." you exhaled, a hand to your chest. mock relief because the tension radiating off you when you'd thought you were being locked in with a stranger hadn't diminished at all when you'd realized it was your boyfriend. "you scared me. i-i'm almost done."
"you're late."
"yeah," you said trying to make yourself busy. maybe trying to think of an escape plan.
bangchan could see from the video jordan was upset, and you knew better than he what jordan's anger felt like.
"uhm, hayden asked to switch. has a big exam tomorrow morning and y-you said you'd be out so i just thought-"
jordan had closed in on you and in your frenzy you hadn't noticed. he grabbed a handful of your braids and yanked your head back.
bangchan's knuckles were white.
"that's the problem right there cherry, thinking."
"jordan you're hurting me." you tried to keep your voice steady as you reached up to his wrist.
"not as much as you hurt me baby." he flicked his wrist like it was nothing, like you were nothing.
the force of it sent you stumbling into the bar, a stool crashing to the ground. then, as you stood, bangchan could see it in your eyes. your limit had been reached.
"you're a coward."
"excuse me?" jordan genuinely couldn't believe his ears. since when did you fight back?
"you heard me." you turned around and stared him down.
jordan's stun morphed into a sinister smile, "oh i see. which regular has you bold this time? can't be hye again. you mentioned him one night and never again, you remember."
your bravado slipped just a bit and bangchan could tell you did remember, and the memory wasn't pleasant.
"or maybe gino's back in town on business. wasn't he gonna whisk you away from all this?" you said nothing as jordan gestured around but he continued, smiling wider. "ah no, bet it's that aussie prick with the bad dye job. what's his name again?"
"none of your business," you spat. "he's thrice the man you'll ever be." instinctively coming to bangchan's defense, even to your own peril, and bangchan wanted to scream that his quote unquote honour wasn’t worth the wrath.
"he never even told you huh?" jordan barked a laugh, his eyes turning darker. "you're about to lose your life for him and you don't even know his name. tragic."
there was a stalemate, but when jordan stepped forward, you threw a barstool and booked it to the door. jordan grunted, one leg of the chair breaking over his arm as he blocked it. you were fumbling with the lock and bangchan felt his heart stop beating as he realized you weren't gonna get it in time.
jordan was red now. some might’ve said he wasn't even jordan anymore. that a demon had possessed him. but bangchan knew better. it's not that he didn't believe in demons. he just knew the evil that men could do all on their. and jordan was entirely himself as he grabbed onto your hair again and flung you back so hard you hit the ground and skidded along your freshly mopped floors into the wood of the bar. you groaned and grabbed your head. your fingers pulled back red and bangchan couldn't stop his gasp.
jordan didn't give you a chance to recover, he flung away the few braids he'd literally ripped from your scalp and grabbed you by the leg, dragging you to the center of the bar. you were kicking like hell with your free leg, but it didn't matter. he took the foot he had a good grip on and twisted. the yell you let out...bangchan almost stopped the video. but he didn't.
he watched as jordan continued to beat you, kick you, pull you up to standing and yell "fight back now!" as he threw you into the bars edge. you're back bowed unnaturally and you dropped to the ground, a stool falling on you. all the while jordan was shouting obscenities and insisting you were cheating with "that aussie prick." and just as bangchan watched jordan walk away, thinking it was over, jordan grabbed the broom.
you had been trying to drag your body, to where bangchan didn't know. maybe your phone, maybe another exit, maybe just anywhere the fuck else. but you were barely making any distance, had hardly moved at all.
and when jordan took the broom and hit you, once, twice, three times you stopped moving.
stopped screaming.
stopped.
bangchan jumped up from the desk. his mouth open. bangchan had known your boyfriend was abusive scum but this?
jordan tossed the broom at you, heaving heavily like he'd just completed an invigorating workout. jordan squatted near your face. blood and snot and tears and sweat mixing and dribbling down everywhere. jordan smiled at his handiwork.
"you missed a spot cherry."
jordan spit on the ground by your head and hit the lights as he left.
bangchan just stood there looking,. he could just make out your form in the dark of the bar. and you didn't move at all. he lurched forward, pressing fast forward. hoping one of your coworkers had forgotten something and come back, hell maybe even a drunk patron. somebody, anybody to help you. but no. it wasn't until 6 hours later when nicki walked in to open. bangchan closed his eyes as she screamed, pressing the space bar again. he hadn't noticed when nicki had walked back in, until he stopped the recording and heard her soft sniffles.
bangchan turned to your best friend, "where is she nicki?"
||
not long after, bangchan found himself at nicki's apartment, knocking. first gently then louder. he gave it three minutes before he used the key nicki had given him.
"whoa!" he ducked as the door opened and a bat swung his way, splintering on the door.
"get out!"
"hey hey!" bangchan yelled to get your attention. "___ it's me."
you staggered back, trying to come down from fight or flight. "bob?"
bangchan would've laughed at the name if he couldn't see you. you were in a large t shirt, your ankle in an ace bandage, and nearly every patch of visible skin marred. you seemed to notice bangchan staring and shrunk into yourself. bangchan stepped forward to tell you you didn't need to hide and your eyes widened in panic, nearly tripping you stepped back so fast.
bangchan swallowed and rose his hands again. "i'm not gonna hurt you ___, i swear to God."
"how did you know i was here?"
"nicki told me, gave me her key."
you worried your lip, "why would you even come?"
"i had to see you." to see for myself you weren't dead bangchan thought.
"what's it to you?"
bangchan just stared because honestly, he didn't even know. somehow, over the course of the month, your face had become one he couldn't imagine going without. but that felt like way too much and still not enough to say. so instead,
"no one makes a whiskey neat like you."
you just stared and then a blurt of a laugh, then another, then you were laughing hard when suddenly that laughter turned to sobbing.
bangchan's heart constricted in his chest and he took a small step forward, and then another, and another, until he was in front of you with his arms slowly opening. it took everything not to just hold you, but you had to come to him. you'd had enough choices stolen from you and he was gonna give them all back. so he was prepared to wait for you to, no matter how long. but you didn't hesitate, falling into his chest.
he sighed and closed his eyes, arms wrapping around you immediately. "shhhh."
you wailed, bat slipping from your fingers and thudding to the carpet as you clung to the front of his hoodie. you were full body crying now, the whole weight of you dropping. it caught bangchan off guard but he kept a hold of you as gravity sank you both down. you were in his arms, cradled, and your arms were tight around his neck.
"i'm here ___, you're safe. i swear it."
you stayed like that for a while. bangchan was content to stay like that forever if it meant your comfortability. but eventually you eyed the open door and it occurred to you that bangchan hadn't closed it on purpose, not wanting to trigger memories of your attack. the thoughtfulness of this basically stranger was something of a chest compression to the parts of you that flatlined last night. but it also reminded you of how easily jordan could realize you're at nicki's, and if he found you in bangchan's lap you knew this time he'd finish the job. and maybe you could take it, but you would not put nicki's and "bob's" life in danger.
you started to get up, ignoring your body protesting. "i have to go, and so should you."
"have to go where?" bangchan wasn't holding you so tightly you couldn't escape. he never wanted you to feel trapped again. but he did still keep his hands on your waist. "have to go where ___?"
"i don't know. i don't know, literally anywhere else. or else he'll find me and-, and-" your head shook, eyes glazing over as you recalled.
"hey no," bangchan said softly, but firmly. "don't go back there. stay with me."
and somehow you both knew bangchan didn't just mean in this present thought space. you nodded as you shook the thoughts away. but your lip still quivered.
"he's gonna find me."
"no he won't."
"you don't get it. one time i got away before it was physical, when it was just my confidence he hit. i broke up with him. but a week later," you closed your eyes and your tears fell.
bangchan wiped them with his thumbs, his expression the word 'care' personified. "he will never hurt you again."
you shook your shook your head vigorously then, voice hiccupping with fear. "you don't know him, he won't stop. not until i'm dead, or he is."
bangchan believed you. knew from watching the tape jordan was much more nefarious than he'd thought. could read between the punches, 'if i can't have you no one can.'
it had to be him or you.
and it damn sure wasn't gonna be you.
bangchan held your face gently in his palms and made you look at him. "i know that."
you stared at him, eyes darting back and forth as understanding dawned on you, quickly followed by whatever emotion relief and skepticism was called. "you-"
bangchan cut you off, "you're safe now ___." he held your face as the words and their implication took root. "i promise."
and when your tears started up again, bangchan guided your head back to his neck. he held you right there in the doorway. and you cried, and cried. with pain, with grief, with repose, and disbelief. but most of all with relief, because you knew now that your monster was never going to be coming through that door, or any other, ever again.
and as he held you, strong and sure, bangchan dared any other monsters to try.
mini drabble, because i can’t stop comparing them to creatures i like >.<
skz x (fem) reader, 18+ MDNI!!, suggestive themes and smutty chatting from ur fav monsterfucker 🐹
warnings: mentions of blood, claws, unprotected sex (be smart), monsterfucking, overstim, bruising, possessive behavior
chupacabra!chan who promises you he doesn’t really suck blood. he’s a liar.
he has sharp teeth, sharp enough to cut through skin and bone like it’s a baby carrot, but somehow he is always so gentle with you. he treats you like you have glass bones and paper skin, which is endearing- really, it is. but sometime you just want to see him snap, just once. sometimes you want to feel his teeth sink into you.
which is how you come up with the idea to make him mad. you take his laptop, pretend like you were using it for a personal project and somehow lost it. you could see the tension in his spine, the violent urge he held back. when you laughed and said it was just a joke, producing the unharmed laptop, chan didn’t laugh. no, he grabbed you by the waist and threw you onto the bed like you were just meat.
chan fucks you like he never has before, unleashing the pent up energy in his tense muscles and gripping your hips with sharp claws, enough to draw blood. then he stills, eyeing the fresh red droplets, and you don’t have to hear him ask. you plead, beg to feel his teeth- and he sinks them into your shoulder immediately.
you cum with chan’s name on your lips, and in return he cums deep inside your ruined cunt, your blood staining his teeth. afterwards he grins at you, kissing your forehead and wrapping you up in the comforter. he isn’t even mad you took his laptop, just wanted to put you in your place <3
jersey devil!minho who has leather wings, horns, and is literally a devil in persona.
he teases you constantly- you never get peace from him (nor do you want it). you’re a pillow princess at heart, which is why he grins and laughs at your misery when he tells you to get on top. your thighs are already trembling, because minho never fucks you unless you’ve already came at least once, but you straddle his thick thighs anyway.
he coos and snarks at you when you try to build a rhythm, hands behind his head, wings twitching, just watching the show. it isn’t until you’re sobbing, desperate and pitiful, that he finally takes mercy on you. he tells you to grab hold of his horns, and when you grip them like handlebars, he snaps his hips up without warning.
minho holds you steady while he drills into your soaked pussy, grunting and moaning like an animal. he doesn’t stop when you cum, he keeps going and going until you’re cumming again. finally, after you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve been overwhelmed with pleasure, he buries himself inside your cunt and fills you up.
aftercare is important for him and for you. you lay on his chest, now clean, and wrapped up in warm, leathery wings. you feel cocooned and safe, listening to the rumble of his chest as you both drift off.
yeti!changbin who keeps you warm all winter, and has muscular biceps bigger than your head!
perfect scary guard dog boyfriend on the outside, warm and gentle and a simp for you on the inside. changbin gives you the ultimate princess treatment, refusing to let you move a muscle if he can do it instead.
you get cold easy, which is perfect for changbin’s warm body. he loves lazy winter days, snow painting the sky white, and laying in bed with you. he loves fucking you nice and slow, deep and intense, looking you in the eye because your connection to each other is his greatest strength.
changbin always makes sure you cum first, and when he feels your tight cunt grip him even tighter he can’t help but get a little rough. he raises your legs on his shoulders, or picks you up in his arms, and thrusts in so deep you see stars. he has you shaking, fucked dumb and only able to remember his name, and he’s just getting started.
aftercare is the best you’ve ever had. changbin doesn’t let you leave his side after you’re both clean, hand feeding you little chocolates or strawberries or whatever it is you ask him for. he lets you fall asleep wrapped in his arms, and kisses your forehead to make sure your dreams are just as sweet as you are :3
yamakachi!hyunjin who might have a human’s body, but he has a serpent’s tongue.
he is part serpent, always has this glint in his eye that makes you shiver, but is incredibly faithful to you. no one else, just you. he whispers filth in your ear when you’re in public, eyes laser-focused and trained on you like no one else is even around. his hand stays in your back pocket, and he proudly shows you off to anyone who might be staring.
when you’re at home, his hands stay on you. constantly running fingertips up and down your sides, squeezing your thighs, running fingers over your wet pussy through the fabric of your shorts just to be a tease. whenever you look at him with tearful eyes, a plea ready on your tongue, he always shushes you like he already know what you need.
his tongue feels like sin, hot and heavy and long- long enough to reach deep inside you, pressing insistently against that sweet bundle of nerves that makes your pussy tighten around his tongue.
he doesn’t stop there. hyunjin loves to fuck you when you’re loose and pliant, groaning about how fucked out you look, praising you for taking it so well, rambling about how good you feel around him. his hands are everywhere, on your tits, rubbing tight little circles into your clit, and you cum at the same time he does, buried inside your wet heat and rolling his eyes back like he’s seen god.
aftercare involves lots of water, lots of snacks, and enjoying your favorite activities to come down. sometimes you watch movies, other times he lets you lay sprawled across the bed and paints you in glowing hues.
mothman!jisung who has sensitive wings, and frequently asks for help grooming his feathers.
it’s just that he can’t reach the ones at his back very well- and really, it’s easier when you do it! you know he’s lying through his teeth, blush matching the bright red color of his irises, but you don’t comment on it. in fact, you think grooming his feathers is well worth it when he tips his head back with a low groan, eyes rolling back and hips kicking forward. by the time you’re done he’s sweaty, panting, and begging to fuck you into the mattress.
jisung doesn’t know when to stop. he’s still thrusting into you with aborted little grinds of his hips, even when you’ve both came more than once and you’re leaking his cum with every nudge deeper into your ruined cunt. you’re crying, he’s tearing up from just how good you feel, and then he’s getting hard again for round… whatever number. he’s begging you to let him feel you cum one more time, then begs you to let him eat you out after.
when you’re both exhausted, starfish-position on your bed, jisung moves his achy limbs to clean you up. he crawls back into your arms as soon as he can, wrapping you in big, fluffy wings and falling asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow. you don’t last much longer before you’re there, too.
kraken!felix who has tentacles. need i say more?
he’s kind of cocky, knows how good he is, knows how people talk about him like he’s a mythical creature. but he’s real, and the sucker-shaped bruises on your thighs are evidence of that.
felix loves to manhandle you, which is surprising considering how effortlessly and gently he holds you at any other time. but when you’re on the bed, legs spread wide, and rubbing your dripping pussy? felix just has to flip you over with his tentacles, lining himself up and pushing in like it’s the only way to cure his madness.
he loves hearing you moan his name, tell him how good he’s doing. when you scream and whine on his cock he grits his teeth and fucks into you harder, treasuring the wet sound of your skin meeting his. he has made you cum countless times, and he knows the fastest way to get you there is by wrapping his tentacles around you tight, constricting airflow with control and precision, and nudging another tentacle inside your tight cunt right beside his cock. the feeling of your body shaking, pulsing and throbbing around both appendages, always has him groaning loud in his throat and burying his face into your neck while he stutters through his own release.
aftercare is always so sweet,, he brings you leftovers from whatever sweet treat he has made that day, covers you in blankets and stuffed animals and his body, practically vibrating with the amount of love he has for you. you spend hours in bed, legs intertwined and watching television, just enjoying each other’s warmth <33
nightcrawler!seungmin who has the longest legs ever, perfect for tangling with yours when you cuddle.
seungmin is… odd. quiet whenever you’re in public, likes to stare at people he doesn’t know and just blink until they go away. but alone, in your shared space, he loves to talk. you both yap about new things you’ve learned, how your days went, how you’re feeling, new things you want to try- and in return, he listens to you just as much as you listen to him.
seungmin will nod silently when you mention a new kink you want to try amidst all your rambling, will respond to other parts of your story and pretend he didn’t hear that detail, but he did. and he remembers, cataloguing it into his brain and saving it for later.
that’s how you end up bound to the bed, or overstimulated and crying, or denied so many times you’re screaming for release. seungmin puts his all into trying new kinks with you, always following up to ask how you felt afterwards. he lays in bed with you and strokes your hair, listening to you talk about whatever with that same stare. except instead of the blank stare he gives strangers, it’s loving and fond. only for you.
beast of bodim moor!jeongin who is literally a phantom big cat.
he loves giving you attention, playing with your hair and massaging your shoulders when you’re stressed. he always purrs from deep in his chest when you lay with him, head on his pecs, and you feel so safe. of course, that doesn’t mean he can’t make you feel… other ways.
you always forget he has fangs and claws because he never uses them with you. until you’re in the bedroom, at least- pressed into the mattress and getting fucked within an inch of your life. then he’s animalistic, pulling your hair back and smacking your ass and leaving scratches in the shape of his claws on your hips. you love it, you love seeing that side of him because it is so different to how he normally is. and when he sinks his fangs into your thighs? you always cum.
jeongin spends forever building up your pleasure, pushing all the right buttons and touching all the right spots to make your vision hazy. he knows exactly how to push you to the edge of release and keep you hovering there, begging for him to just push a little further. when he finally does, you cum with a cry of his name. he fucks you through it, burying himself to the hilt and kitten-licking your neck as you both come down.
when you’ve cleaned up he is immediately back on you, nuzzling into your throat and purring low in his chest again. he makes sure every part of you is touching every part of him possible, ensuring you’re comfortable while you slowly drip back into reality.
a/n: i think my brain has rotted out of my skull. this came to me as a sleep deprived vision at 1am and i couldn’t ignore it, by the time i realized what was happening it was already finished and i just had to proofread and post??? anywho~
as always, thank you sm for reading!! requests are open, and i love getting them!! :3
warnings: unprotected sex (MDNI)(be smart), nerd loser jisung, so many weed mentions, recreational drug use, sex while high, virgin!reader, oral (f receiving), fingering, possessive behavior, drug dealing and whatnot, jisung calls reader rockstar bc im a freak, chanlix mention
a/n: this was TOTALLY inspired by a reblog of @jj-one ‘s plug!sung post!! if yall haven’t read it pls do,, its YUMMY!
p.s. i imagine 3racha’s band is playing garbage truck from scott pilgrim. listen to it >:3 also this is wayyy longer than it was meant to be srry (not)
“y/n, i’m begging! you have to come with me!”
“why would i subject myself to being in a dingy garage with four men, three of which i don’t know?”
“it’s five, changbin-hyung has his boyfriend coming.”
“felix that doesn’t help!” you groan, throwing your head back to stare up at your dorm ceiling. felix matches your energy, groaning from his place with his head in your lap and your long nails running through his hair.
“please!” felix whines. if you were looking at him, you’re sure you would see a dramatic pout on his plush lips and his pretty eyes getting glassy. if there is one thing your best friend knows how to do, it’s get what he wants. lucky for you, he has turned his evil puppy dog eyes on you tonight.
felix has had a crush on his physics TA for two whole semesters. two semesters of watching your friend’s pining and yearning from afar, listening to him ramble on about how hot bang chan is and how he could get it any day, any time, anywhere.
whatever felix is doing seems to finally be paying off. chan invited him to watch his shitty garage band practice tonight, and felix had immediately called you squealing. you’re happy for him- really, felix deserves all the love this world has to offer- but that doesn’t change the fact that you do not want to do your duties of wingwoman tonight. the idea of pretending to like whatever noise hits your eardrums in chan’s garage makes you shiver.
“i can’t go alone,” felix huffs after deciding you had been silent too long. “i don’t want to show up and be the only person no one knows. besides, if it goes terribly i need you to pretend to be sick so we can leave.”
you give felix a deadpan look, knowing he’s full of shit. like anything could pry his little fingers away from chan’s muscular biceps. unfortunately, you do kind of owe him. after all, felix had been the one who pretended to be your boyfriend when your last torturous date had tried to come into your dorm. felix seems to realize this, but doesn’t say anything. he knows you better than anyone, and he knows you’re about to crack.
with a sigh, you mumble out, “fine. but i’m leaving after an hour and a half, maximum.”
the bright grin and tight hug you get in return almost makes your sacrifice worth it.
bang chan’s garage is dingy, as expected. but it isn’t quite as bad as you thought.
one lightbulb hangs from the ceiling, no cover over it, light softly flickering. pink and cerulean LEDs are the only other thing lighting the space, making it have a frat house air that leaves you feeling a little second hand embarrassment. but the humid air at least smells nice, like the bergamot diffuser in the corner, and the old, brown leather couch you are invited to sit on is comfortable enough to have you sinking into the cushions.
chan is the main vocalist, with his friend changbin on drums and some guy named jisung on guitar. jisung is running late, which seems to be a reoccurring theme considering no one bats an eye, so chan takes it upon himself to entertain the crowd of three on his sofa by telling jokes that sound like the opening of a stand-up comedy club.
“and don’t even get me started on airplane food-“ chan fakes a scoff, pausing for laughter. you manage to hide a grimace behind your hand, feeling a little bad because he seems genuinely nice, his jokes are just dad-tier. beside you, felix laughs wholeheartedly.
just as you check the time on your phone, ready to fake a stomach ache, the door that leads inside chan’s home whips open hard enough to bounce off the wall behind it. a flurry of movement, a baggy black hoodie and a red guitar swing into the room. a man adjusts his big black rimmed glasses on his face, pulling his bangs back into his backwards snapback, and takes position beside chan in the middle of the space. jisung, you presume.
“sorry i’m late,” you hear a low voice mumble. your ears ring in an attempt to pick up the exact pitch. chan shrugs the apology off, grinning and whispering something that has jisung huffing a short laugh through his nose. with startling clarity and clenched thighs you realize this is the hottest man you have ever seen in your life. like, ever.
jisung tilts his chin up to adjust the microphone in front of him and you have the chance to catch a good look at his face. sharp jawline, honey toned skin, heart-shaped lips and a heart-shaped adam’s apple to match. there’s a little bit of stubble on his jaw and upper lip if you squint your eyes. he raises a long, slender finger to adjust his thick frames on the bridge of his nose again and clears his throat. weirdly, you have no doubt in your mind that he has a lighter in his pocket- the room smells like a mix of bergamot and weed now.
you throw felix a side-eyed glance and realize he’s already looking back at you, smile innocent and lashes batting. you know each other better than anyone else in the entire world. felix has to know jisung is exactly your type.
chan’s voice, amplified by the cheap mic in front of him, cuts through your thoughts. “alright, you guys ready to rock?”
the music starts blaring, and your breath catches in your throat. honestly, they aren’t even bad. loud, a little abrasive, but the talent is there. chan’s raw vocals hit you like a truck, and jisung’s backup singing has your heart skipping a beat or two. by the time practice is finished all three of them are sweating, panting, and smiling at the loud hollers coming from your side. shellshocked, all you can do is clap softly.
practice comes to an end and felix is immediately off the couch, running to shower a blushing chan with praise much like changbin’s partner does. you stand slowly, tugging the sleeves on your thin shirt further down your arms as you glance around the room. the crooked posters that have been slapped onto the wall with clear tape are suddenly very interesting to look at.
you feel the heat of a body in front of you, and when you turn your head the hot guitarist is scratching the back of his neck. he grins at you, small and cocky to hide his nerves. but you see the twitch of his fingertips, and you can pick out the light flush on the apples of his cheeks.
with all the bravado of a man who fakes confidence quite often, he clears his throat. “haven’t seen you around before. you on campus?”
you don’t remember much of the conversation- jisung converses with you about the basics every college student talks about when meeting a peer for the first time. what’s your major? have you been to that popular coffee shop a block down from campus? god the dorms are terrible, aren’t they? your responses come on autopilot, thoughts free to run with the way jisung’s tongue flicks across his bottom lip before he changes subjects, the way his eyebrows raise when you say something mildly interesting. by the time felix pulls you out of the garage door, there’s a tiny baggie filled with green flower in your pocket. on the front, there’s a little green alien holding up a peace sign. on the back, a phone number is scrawled in silver sharpie.
you officially have a plug.
you don’t smoke often- usually it’s only in social settings, with felix and maybe seungmin by your side. when the question had been brought up, do you smoke, you had nodded without question. jisung had winked when he told you he knew a guy that could give you the good shit. a little ridiculous that it was himself he was talking about, but somehow you found it endearing. either way, you refuse to save the number in your phone. the same way you refuse to step foot back into chan’s dingy garage with his (not really) shitty band. people like jisung only ever lead to trouble, and you are smart enough to recognize a red flag when it winks at you.
“oh hey, y/n. nice to see you again!” chan grins, patting your arm once.
you cut felix a glare which he chooses to ignore in favor of hugging the man who greeted you. you step foot into chan’s dingy garage again.
it had been almost mortifyingly easy to convince you to come this time. felix didn’t have to pry, didn’t have to beg, only had to love-bomb you for a minute before you caved. this time chan’s band isn’t practicing, felix had said they were just hanging out tonight. somehow, that made the nerves in your stomach flare up worse.
your eyes immediately dart to the brown leather sofa that had been so comfortable last time you stepped into the space. the LEDs above you are red now, dimly flashing and lighting up the concrete walls. your spot on the couch has been stolen by han jisung.
when you step forward, uncertain if you should even say hi- uncertain if he even remembers your name- jisung’s head snaps up from where he had been staring at his phone. his face immediately splits into a grin, long hair falling into his eyes now that there is no snapback to hold the strands. his glasses are still on, still slightly askew, just as you remembered.
“hey! i didn’t realize you would be here. thank god it’s not just me and two couples,” he laughs, scooting over slightly to pat the spot between his body and the couch armrest. when you sit down in the small space you were given, your bodies don’t touch. but it’s a close thing.
“i was told if i didn’t come felix would tell you i’m a STEM major,” you shudder playfully, hiding a small smile. “i can’t have my reputation ruined like that.”
jisung laughs softly, the sound making your chest feel warm. then he looks around, as if watching to see if anyone is paying attention, and reaches long fingers into his hoodie pocket. he produces a slightly misaligned, fully unsmoked joint and a garfield lighter.
jisung’s eyes are borderline sparkling when he looks back at you. mischievous, a little hesitant. he takes his plush bottom lip between two rows of sharp, white teeth. his glasses reflect red LEDs. “wanna smoke?”
you nod- because of course you do.
jisung lights the joint, holding the tip between his pretty rose colored lips and hollowing his cheeks to suck in thick smoke. you swallow around your dry mouth, watching the way he tilts his head back against the couch, chest expanding to accommodate the air, and exhales the heavy smoke through his parted lips and nose. the air around the two of you clouds over briefly before it evaporates. he turns his head to look at you, eyes already farther away from earth, and hands the joint over. your fingertips touch and electricity jolts down your spine.
the tip of the joint has tiny teeth marks. your teeth fit into them perfectly.
you spend an uncertain amount of time passing the joint back and forth, watching jisung’s bandmates and their partners fawn over each other. it’s sweet- changbin’s boyfriend is running a hand through his hair, making the older blush and stutter. felix is looking at chan like he hung the moon. and you don’t know when it happened, but jisung has turned his body so that he is facing you, one arm over the back of the couch and calloused fingers dangling an inch above your shoulder. the sweater you wear hangs off your arm enough to feel the throb of heat in the space between your bare skin and his.
someone speaks, and it takes a moment for you to realize it’s your voice. raw, quiet, smoke-clouded, but still you. “this is really good weed,” you laugh softly, and it feels like jisung grins in slow motion. “who grows your stash?”
jisung is close to preening, and you think maybe he would if he wasn’t weighed down by the green flowers. “i grow and sell my own shit, actually. that’s why it’s the best in the state.”
you hum, head tilting to stare at him while still resting on the back of the couch. his hand is close, you could reach out and bite into his thin wrist. the image of teeth marks on his honey skin flashes through your mind. “wow, best weed and best guitarist? your resume must be top tier.”
jisung huffs a laugh through his nose, blinking long lashes dazed and syrupy. his grin gets sharper at the edges, teasing in its tilt. “well, the resume must work. i just got a new customer, right?”
“do i at least get a discount?” you ask, batting your eyelashes as you take the little joint left from between his thumb and index finger. you bring it to your lips, unsure if you’re imagining the way his eyes track the movement.
“why would you?” he mutters, unfocused on your words, focusing instead on your mouth as it curls around the syllables. you breathe in, light and a little dizzy in the best way, then exhale slowly. the smoke wraps around jisung’s face, and he breathes it in like it’s oxygen.
“because i’m your biggest fan, duh,” you tease back. this snaps jisung out of his dream-like state, causing him to snort and cover his mouth with the back of his hand. his wrist bone is so prominent you could draw it from memory. his other hand moves down, lightly swatting at your bare shoulder, and you jump from the contact. then, he leans away all together. the stump of the joint you shared gets put out in the ashtray in front of him, and he’s still grinning when he removes his hand from his mouth.
jisung fixes you with a crooked smile, cheeks pink under his thick framed glasses, hand running through his soft hair. “anything for you, rockstar.” he whispers, like it’s a secret just for your ears. “text me and you can have whatever you want.”
somehow, you feel like jisung isn’t talking about the weed.
you don’t text jisung for four days.
you think about it every single hour- during class while you’re supposed to be working on your ceramic torso, during lunch while listening to seungmin drone on about why being a STEM major sucks ass, at your dorm when you get the little baggie with the alien on it out, tracing your nail over the silver sharpie on the back.
jisung’s number is saved in your phone now. you draft at least a dozen texts to him, but none of them seem… right.
hi jisung! it’s y/n. do you have any weed rn?
hii, it’s y/n :3 can i buy? discount included >:3
hey, it’s y/n!! do you want to hang out maybe?
stupid- everything sounds stupid and desperate and a little pitiful. you groan and whine and grow more and more irritated the longer you agonize over the texts. luckily for you, it seems your problems have been solved on day four.
hey y/n, it’s han jisung. felix gave me your number, hope you don’t mind. thought you might have lost mine lmao. you down to smoke tonight?
you stare at the text, ignoring the second notification that comes through from felix which is just a winking emoji. you stare at your screen so long you start getting tunnel vision, fingers hovering uselessly over your keyboard. you might as well just die.
you text back. one text turns into two, which turns into three, and suddenly you have plans with han jisung. at your dorm. tonight.
you call felix immediately.
“if you’re calling to thank me for setting up the loss of your virginity i will accept in the form of an ice cream cake-“
“felix!” you yelp, quickly standing up from your bed just to pace around your room. “why did i make plans with him? holy shit, he’s going to think i’m trying too hard- he probably has so many bitches! and i invited him to my dorm!”
felix’s maniacal laughter cuts through your speaker, and that’s when your brain catches up to what he initially said.
“oh my god,” you whisper, staring at your purple rug in horror. “i’m a virgin. felix, i essentially invited him over to smoke and fuck and i’m a virgin-“
it’s not like you’re a virgin on purpose. sure, the guys you’ve dated have offered, you’ve had people ask for one night stands. but none of them ever felt right; no one made you feel excited. and sure, you had made out with people, given head, whatever. but it all felt… obligatory. like maybe if you just got into it, you would be less bored. but then you got into it, and you ended it almost immediately. no one has ever made fire light up in your gut, no sparks flying up your spine, not even a single butterfly in your stomach.
han jisung makes you feel like you’re one step away from imploding.
“don’t worry,” felix tuts, bringing you out of your thoughts. “channie-hyung says jisung acts way cooler than he actually is. and besides that, being a virgin is hot.”
“felix!”
“i’m serious!” he cackles, calming down again to finish his thought. “if you tell him he’s the first person you’re letting hit it, he’s going to jizz his pants. i promise. when have i ever lied to you?”
you think back to all of the evil things your best friend has done… and even you can admit he has never lied.
you hang up.
you clean the entirety of your small, single person dorm in a frantic hour and a half. then you shower, complete with a good shave and exfoliation. you don’t want to assume jisung is thinking about getting in your pants, but it never hurts to be prepared- and if you put on lotion that makes your legs and arms look glittery when the light hits them, that’s no one else’s business. by the time you’ve fluffed your pillows and changed your matching pajama set three times, there’s a knock at your door.
han jisung is there, glasses and baggy hoodie and baggier jeans, he’s holding a half-drank cold brew in one large hand, his garfield lighter tucked between two fingers. you invite him in and he immediately grins, looking around your dorm.
“woah, the feng shui in here is crazy,” he whistles, eyeing the large bunny plush that’s taking up half your bed. he points at it with his thumb, turning back to you with raised brows. “is he smoking too? i only brought one joint.”
you laugh, ignoring the nerves in your gut when he says he brought one joint. you’re sharing again, even though you know he has more than enough bud for two. you try your best to be nonchalant, even as jisung takes a seat on your bed beside your bunny plush.
jisung pats the spot next to him, whistling to get your attention. like a dog, your ears perk up. “you gonna sit? standing while you smoke is probably kind of hard.”
you blink twice, sitting on the bed beside jisung. both of your backs are to the headboard, shoulders not touching but close to it. jisung hands you the joint, motioning for you to take the first hit this time, and your lips close around the end. instead of handing you the lighter though, jisung flicks the roller with his own thumb and holds the flame to your mouth.
there’s a brief moment where all you can see is jisung’s pretty brown doe eyes, wide and blinking behind his glasses, and the flare of orange heat. then, you inhale and smoke infiltrates your lungs. your cheeks hollow the slightest bit, and you move away to exhale out the cracked window beside you.
“thanks,” you murmur, passing the joint to the man at your side. your lips tingle as he puts the weed between his own. “i was feeling a little stressed earlier, probably needed this.”
jisung’s head tilts in your direction, smoke exhaling through his nose. “why were you stressed?”
you shrug, fighting a blush because really it was him coming over that had you stressed out. vaguely, you reply, “the only guy i usually let in my dorm is felix.”
jisung lets out a breathy laugh, and your own breath hitches. “c’mon, felix is the only one you’ve let see your bunny plush? does that make me special?”
“well, that makes you a man i can tolerate. so i guess you are kind of special, if that makes you feel better.” you tease, flicking the joint on your ceramic ashtray. you inhale again, brain a little fuzzier, and try to ignore the pink tinge of jisung’s cheeks.
the more you smoke, the more relaxed you get- meaning, the more you start yapping. it seems like jisung has the same affliction, rambling on about one thing that leads into another, and another. but when it’s your turn to speak, he listens. he doesn’t just wait for his turn to talk again, he nods along and asks you follow up questions and hangs onto your every word, eyes shifting between the way your lips move and the haze in your eyes. the attention makes you preen a little, and by the time the joint is almost finished your shoulder is touching his, bodies angled to point at each other.
“really though, my first crush was on the captain of the cheer team, senior year of high school. i’m just as surprised as you are that she wanted to hook up,” jisung chuckles, running a hand through his hair and adjusting his glasses. you giggle softly, hand running over the soft cotton of your sleep shorts just because the fabric feels nice between your fingers. the weed had fully hit you.
“alright. your turn,” jisung breaks the heady fog in your head, motioning for you to speak with a teasing, crooked grin. “virginity story now! i told you mine, it’s only fair.”
and your blood runs cold. holy shit, this is the part where everything unravels. you tell jisung you’re a virgin, and he laughs in your face and leaves, blocking your number and telling his bandmates you are an absolute loser. any reassurance felix had given you over the phone flies out the window.
jisung notices your hesitation, eyebrows furrowing slightly. he puts a hand on your bare knee, slowly, thumb running back and forth over the top of your thigh. his palm is warm. “hey- i was joking, i promise. i’m just stupid, you don’t have to tell me anything. do you like anime? we can watch-“
“no- it’s okay, really,” you mumble, blushing cheeks running hotter. his hand stays warm on your knee, radiating heat that slowly engulfs your whole body. “i just- i don’t really, like, have a story.”
jisung shrugs easily, squeezing your knee lightly. “that’s okay, too! at least you didn’t have an embarrassing experience like i did. boring sex is better than walking into her dad’s room half naked.”
you laugh slightly, shaking your head. the nerves in your stomach bubble up, ready to erupt. you have the urge to scream suddenly. “no, no. i mean like, i don’t have a story at all. like, i haven’t…”
jisung is silent for a moment, blankly staring at your face as you bite your lip and look away. the thumb on your leg has stopped its comforting circles, still like the rest of him. finally, after a too-long beat of silence, jisung deadpans.
“you’re fucking with me right now.”
“i’m not…?” you say, though it comes out as more of a question. when you look at him, jisung is blinking dumbly, mouth hanging slightly open. you shake your head and continue, trying to explain.
“i mean i’ve had the opportunity, or whatever. i just don’t really want my first time to be a bad experience, and everyone that’s offered has been kinda boring, i think. i don’t know, maybe im just too picky or something but-“
“i have a raging boner right now.”
you blink, head foggy and slow with processing. even with time to let that sink in, you still can’t wrap your head around it. jisung’s eyes are red rimmed and half lidded, lashes fluttering and cheeks turning scarlet as he realizes what he just blurted out.
“sorry- i missed something. what was that?” you ask, a little incredulous. jisung scratches the back of his neck, cocky facade gone, only the remnants of mumbled explanation and stuttered words being left behind.
“well- like, i know i probably sound like a freak, probably shouldn’t have led with the boner thing. but seriously, you’re like, jaw-dropping. mouthwatering. absolutely breathtaking, and you’re telling me i’m the first guy you’ve invited to sit in your bed and see you all high and blushing and wearing a matching set of pajamas? and i’m the first dude you’re- well, we haven’t gotten that far and i really don’t want to assume-“ jisung sucks in a quick inhale through clenched teeth, suddenly finding it hard to focus on one spot. his eyes keep flitting from your own, to your lips, to the joint pinched between your fingers, to the large hand engulfing your knee and still not moving an inch. finally, he breathes out.
“you’re just… so hot, baby.” jisung mumbles, head tilting to lean against the wall, staring at you with dilated pupils. “i can’t believe you don’t know what it’s like to be taken care of.”
the tips of your fingers tremble where they are pressed into the sheets, gripping tightly and turning your knuckles white. jisung’s speech had single-handedly made you feel more desperate than you have ever felt in your life, pussy clenching and feeling the fabric of your underwear dampen against your slit. jisung has made you a pitiful, needy mess, and he hasn’t done a single thing. you haven’t even kissed him.
you decide that needs to change- like, now. “why don’t you show me, then?” you whisper, breath hitching in tandem with jisung’s own. his hand moves, taking the stub of a joint from between your fingers. you watch as he tilts his head, paper hovering just above his lips as he wets them.
“wanna share this last hit?” he mumbles, voice smoke-heavy and raw, but also laced with a wanting that makes you shiver. you can’t find your voice, can only nod the tiniest bit as you watch the ashes of the joint spark red, jisung pulling smoke from the bud before drawing away. then, you watch as jisung tosses the butt into your ashtray and leans forward, large palm and slim fingers gripping the back of your neck under your hair.
you open your mouth to gasp, unable to get enough oxygen to your foggy brain. jisung’s eyes flit up to yours and he must find whatever answer he’s looking for, because soon after he is tilting his head and his pink lips are pressed to yours.
your parted lips part wider as jisung’s fingers gently squeeze the back of your neck. and suddenly, there’s smoke filling your mouth and a deft tongue swiping at your bottom lip in a teasing line. the smoke crawls down your throat, but you soon forget about the feeling when jisung’s tongue meets your own. jisung kisses in a way you couldn’t have imagined; it’s hot, heavy, his tongue pressing against every nook he can find as if he wants to map out the entirety of your anatomy. the kiss is a little dry at first, chapped lips and cotton tongues meeting, but it quickly becomes wet. jisung’s mouth moves against yours in messy little kisses, and when you rest your forehead against his you both pant for air.
the smoke that had been passed to you travels back up, barely there with how long it was trapped in your body. jisung grins in tandem with you, gripping your neck tighter to hold you in place while his sharp teeth nip at your lower lip.
“fuck, i want you so bad-“ he groans, lips trailing from your own, down to your cheek, down further until he can suck a purple bruise into the joint of your jaw. your eyes flutter shut, hands wrapping around his neck and nails dragging through thick hair. his hands travel lower, gripping you by the waist and dragging your top up so that his hands rest against the bare skin of your ribs.
“jisung, please. want you to fuck me,” you whimper quietly, the sound escaping without your permission, blushing and yelping a little when jisung pulls you over the sheets. he positions your body so you are lying down, hair haloed around your head, with his own body between your legs. on instinct, you squeeze them shut. jisung groans when your legs clench around his thighs, running calloused hands over soft skin to open your legs again.
“fuck, baby. stop talking or i’m gonna bust before i even touch you,” he laughs softly, hands massaging your thighs and lips pressed to your collarbone. “let me eat you out first, yeah? please?”
you nod quickly, gnawing at your lower lip hard enough to taste metal. jisung kisses down your body, wet and open mouthed and messy, leaving a chill in his wake. he pushes your shirt up until it’s just under your breasts, continuing to lick his way down until that wicked mouth is nipping at the skin above your waistband. he looks up at you then, hair mussed from your hands, cheeks flushed rose, and glasses askew on the bridge of his nose. his eyes are a little glassy now, needy and yearning for something only you can give. the thought makes your soaked cunt clench around nothing.
finally, jisung takes his lip between his teeth and slides his fingers into the top of your sleep shorts. his hands are hot, trailing fire over your legs as he pulls the fabric down, off your body all together. your legs have closed again, and jisung huffs through his nose like he finds the habit cute. his hands grab the meat of your inner thighs, spreading your legs and making room for his shoulders to rest between. you watch the sharp inhale he takes when your soaked panties are in front of him.
“all this for me?” he mumbles, unfocused on his words, laser-focused on your pink panties that have turned dark with your desperation. his hands move back to your hips, gripping tight. lightly, teasingly slow, one of his thumbs ghosts over the line of your pussy. you moan, hips kicking, but jisung’s hands keep you still. his thumb stops at your clenching hole, pushing against it through the thin, wet fabric.
“please, please- jisung, fuck me,” you whine, feeling jittery and restless from the pent up hunger in your veins. jisung’s thumb holds the same pressure he had applied to your hole, running back up your panties and stopping over your sensitive clit to rub achingly slow circles.
he blinks long lashes up at you, already panting softly. his brows are lightly furrowed, like he’s barely controlling himself, and after glancing at the mess he’s made out of you he stops teasing. he helps you kick your ruined underwear off, cursing softly when your legs part for him. he doesn’t waste any more time.
jisung uses his thumbs to spread your folds open, finally dipping down to lick a long, wet stripe over your pussy. you moan high in your throat, one hand locking onto his shoulder while the other threads through dark hair. and jisung moans right against you- as if this is exactly what he’s been waiting for.
jisung’s tongue is just as talented as his hands, slipping into your hole and fucking you, running over your soaked folds, then moving up to close his mouth around your clit and suck hard. you arch into him, head tilting back as pleasure overtakes your shaking frame, and jisung uses the opportunity to slip two long, thick fingers inside you.
“fuck!” you moan, feeling his fingers fuck you open, curling a little meanly against the spot inside you that has you seeing stars. you feel his mouth curve into a small smirk against your clit, but he doesn’t lose focus. his tongue flicks over the small, sensitive bud fast- fingers rubbing you from inside at the same pace. your body spasms, legs trying to close around jisung’s head as you feel your orgasm building deep in your gut.
you try to warn him, try to whine out a pitiful i’m close, but jisung ignores your words completely. you feel a small amount of panic, knowing you’re about to make a mess worse than you already have on his face, but when you look down at him your breath catches.
jisung’s pupils are dilated wide, almost no color left behind his hungry gaze. his eyes are still a little red, wet and layered with the same desperation you feel in your stomach. that’s what makes you snap- the thought that jisung wants this. not only does he want you to cum on his tongue, he’s practically begging for it.
you feel the band inside you break, eyes rolling back and hips rolling up to grind against jisung’s mouth and fingers. as the first wave of your orgasm crashes over you, jisung moans around your clit and makes you shake that much harder. his fingers slow down as you clench around them, and when you finally come down from your high, he pulls them out completely.
jisung’s chin is glistening with your cum when he pulls back an inch. his chest rises and falls just as fast as your does, pink tongue darting out to his soaked lips.
“you’re so fucking hot, rockstar.” he moans, voice raw and a little fried. “perfect little pussy, too. wanna keep you on my tongue forever.”
you barely have time to internalize the words before jisung’s head dips back down, wet fingers now holding your thigh so he can lick at your still-pulsing hole. you sob at the feeling, his tongue dipping back inside of you to lick at your walls, clean up the mess he made. your legs are shaking, and when you plead for mercy all you get in return is a low groan and doubled efforts.
“ji- sung, fuck-“ you moan, bordering on a scream, both hands gripping at his hoodie like your life depends on it. you hadn’t even fully came down from your orgasm, every pinpoint spike of pleasure heightened as jisung’s thumb comes back to rub at your swollen clit.
“one more, baby,” jisung pulls away to beg, glasses beginning to fog with the hot air he is panting. “one more, please. need to taste you again, want you to cum on my tongue.”
your body locks up, half panicked at the pleasure that only intensifies in your nervous system. you have never felt like this; never been able to bring yourself to more than one orgasm at a time, never had anyone else even bother trying. but jisung’s thumb is circling your clit with dizzying pressure, his tongue lapping at your messy hole with a fervor you’ve never even imagined- and fuck, you’re about to cum again. right on his tongue, just like he pleaded for.
“prettiest pussy i’ve ever seen,” jisung is mumbling, fingers dipping back into your entrance like he can’t keep them away. his tongue licks between them, around them, nose nudging your clit in a way that makes you twitch uncontrollably. and still, he’s speaking around the movement. “you’re gonna feel so good squeezing my cock, rockstar. gonna stretch you out- make you take it so well.”
jisung’s free hand travels up your body, crawling under your soft cotton shirt to grab a handful of your breast. you whimper loudly, feeling his thumb and index finger pinch your pert nipple and roll the bud between his fingers. the fingers inside you are pumping in and out instead of curling now, reminding you of the way he might fuck you- fast, hard enough to have you bouncing, precisely nailing your g-spot every time he thrusts deep. you feel a single tear slip down your cheek from the indescribable pleasure, entire body going still at the mental image. jisung moans against you again, and you are crashing into your second orgasm of the night.
your body feels electrified, every touch sending little shocks through the atoms inside you. when jisung pulls his fingers away again he lifts them up, spreading them apart and watching your cum web in the space between with a groan. you watch with half lidded eyes and fast breaths as he sucks his ring finger into his mouth, eyes rolling back and a filthy moan ringing through your ears.
“you taste so good, baby.” he whines, brows furrowed and hips stuttering into the bed. he looks up at you, sharp grin and white teeth and all. “wanna taste?”
you nod your head, half delirious, and accept the middle finger he brings to your lips with an open mouth. the digit slides against your tongue and you whimper, tongue swirling against rough callouses from his guitar. he watches your mouth, the peek of your pink tongue, and curses softly to himself. when he pulls his hand away he is immediately sitting up to take off the baggy hoodie he wears.
your shirt comes off next, raised off your shoulders and thrown on your purple rug. when you look back at jisung he is ridding himself of his jeans and briefs- your jaw might as well drop to the floor.
jisung is… fucking ripped. clearly, the baggy clothes he wears hides the defined muscles of his biceps, the lines in his abdomen from all of the hard practice in chan’s garage. he isn’t so muscular it’s off-putting; his stomach is still soft despite the clear muscle, and you can’t stop the way your nails trace the lines where his ribs rest. he has tattoos.
jisung is a little speechless now, bottom lip caught between his teeth and shivering at the ghost of scratches on his skin. he tries to tease you, make fun of you, but the words come out breathless.
“you just gonna stare at me, baby?” he asks, cheeks tinged red. he brings his middle finger, the one that had been in your mouth minutes ago, to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“or do you want me to fuck you?” jisung breathes out, one hand gripping the base of his cock. he’s long, head curved towards his stomach, and your eyes widen briefly. you’ve never taken anything that big- your fingers look tiny compared to it.
you want him so bad. even though there’s a tremble in your thighs, your pussy sensitive and dripping with a mixture of your release and jisung’s spit. you need this, need him, so bad it hurts.
“please ji, need you so bad.” you whimper, pouting your wobbly bottom lip. jisung’s thumb wipes at your cheek and you realize it’s damp with tears. jisung coos at you, shushing you and pressing his hips closer to tease your clit with the tip of his cock. he pumps himself, the movement rubbing his head back and forth against your sensitive bud. you cry harder- desperate beyond anything you have ever experienced.
“it’s okay, rockstar.” jisung is whispering, cock sliding down your slick folds to apply pressure to your hole. “i’ll give you what you need. i’m the only one who can, right?”
with that, he thrusts in. you scream.
jisung doesn’t stop the slow grind of his hips until he is fully nestled inside your wet cunt. you feel so full, so perfect, the idea that this is what you’ve been missing out on baffles you. then again, you can’t help but think it might just be jisung that you’ve been missing.
jisung, who is groaning and panting into your neck and twitching deep inside you like he is using every ounce of self control not to move. his hands are gripping your hips tight, knuckles pale, and you hope to find purple splotches in their shape tomorrow. you feel the way your pussy clenches around his cock, causing both of you to whine into each other’s skin.
“baby please, please tell me i can move,” jisung is moaning, rambling. “god, your pretty little pussy’s so tight- feels so good.”
your nails dig into jisung’s back, gripping harder when he groans and grinds his cock into your g-spot. you moan against his neck, nipping at the skin there.
“move, please-“ you whimper, and jisung does just that.
he draws his hips back, cock leaving you almost completely. then he’s thrusting forward in a filthy grind, hips meeting yours flush together. he moans, staring down at you with eyes glazed over, one hand coming up to grab your breast while the other moves down to rub his thumb over your sensitive clit again.
jisung’s thrusts pick up pace, and when you moan loudly he gets faster. now, your dual moans bounce off the walls of your dorm as his hips snap up, driving his cock to drag against your most sensitive spots over and over again.
“god- look at you,” jisung huffs, leaning down to mouth at your cheeks and lick into your mouth, wet and messy and almost possessive.
“jisung, please.” you beg, panting and feeling your cunt squeeze around his cock as he drives into you from the new angle, hitting deeper. “i need-“
you cut yourself off with a whine, unsure of what you need. all you know is you’re aching for it, desperate even though you can’t find the words. jisung kisses you once more, pulling away to pull your legs over his shoulders and slow his thrusts down to shallow little movements.
“fuck,” he whines, slack jawed and spreading your pussy open to watch the slide of his cock, thrusting deeper into you now. “i’m not gonna last, not with you milking me like this, baby.”
you feel so embarrassed being the sole recipient of his attention, eyes tracking the way your glistening pussy sucks him in. but more so you’re turned on, desperation clawing at your gut, and the match inside you is sparking to life. with each drag of jisung’s thick cock against your walls you get closer to the edge, and when he slams into you deep, groaning into your neck and grinding against that sensitive bundle of nerves, you cum with trembling fingers and a scream of his name.
jisung gasps at the feeling of your pussy clenching around his length. he shallowly pumps his hips, barely leaving your cunt at all now, and stills completely as he shudders through his own orgasm buried deep inside you.
jisung’s hips grind into you slowly, he whimpers like he can’t control the overstimulating movement. when you blink the stars from your vision and the fog in your brain away, jisung finally slows to a halt, lying his weight on your body and wrapping his arms tight around your waist.
for a moment, all you can hear is the thump of your own racing heart in your ears. slowly, jisung rolls off of you and pulls out with a drawn out groan. he stretches, back popping an obscene amount of times before tilting his head to lock eyes with you.
“how do you feel, rockstar?” he asks, voice raw and grin lazy. you huff a laugh, struggling to reboot your brain.
“sore, but in a deeply satisfied way,” you hum. jisung nods, one hand coming up to push damp hair off of your forehead.
jisung somehow keeps your feet steady as you move to the bathroom. you clean up, sighing when you realize you’ll need another shower eventually. but for now, the cool washcloth jisung runs over your aching limbs is good enough. when you’re back in bed, curled into a firm chest beneath soft blankets, jisung’s hand combing through your hair, you can’t help but smile into his chest.
“what’re you thinking about?” he asks softly, eyes half shut. you shrug lazily.
“i have a virginity story now,” you snort. the vibration from jisung’s laugh makes your head spin a little.
“you’re right,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “now you can tell everyone it was me.”
“the hot guitarist in a garage band?” you tease. jisung grins at you, sleepy and soft. his glasses are on your nightstand, and without them his eyes sparkle in the low light from the window.
“you could also call me your boyfriend,” he says, and if the light was a little brighter you have no doubt you could see a blush on his cheeks. your grin matches his, sleepy and satiated.
“my hot guitarist boyfriend,” you purse your lips, pretending to think. jisung’s hand squeezes the meat of your thigh, and butterflies erupt in your stomach.
“yeah. i like the sound of that.”
a/n: rip to my first draft that got deleted, you were so good and i’ll miss our time together dearly ):
as always, requests are open! next post will be another alien!skz introduction, bc i love those freaks ((,:
srry this took a little longer i’ve been watching boys2planet and i got pissed off bc harry june got eliminated….. don’t even play with me rn ):
.𖥔 ݁ ˖🛸── .✦ notes: this is my first wolf / hybrid au. let me know what you think! also, i will continue answering requests after this series.
╰┈➤ PARTS (not sure yet if ill make this a mini or full length series)
.𖥔 ݁ ˖🛸── .✦ about:
You’re the crowned heir of one of the oldest, most powerful alpha bloodlines in the region. As royalty, your future has always been planned — including a political mating to unite clans. Refusing to become a pawn in your family’s power games, you escape during the peak of your heat and flee deep into forbidden rogue territory.
Stray Kids — a powerful, off-grid hybrid pack — find you injured and half-shifted at the border of their land. What they don’t know is you’re their fated mate. And what you don’t know is… they all share that bond with you. Which shouldn't be possible.
❛ ━━━━━━･❪ skz ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜
The moon was too bright.
It sliced through the trees like a blade, catching on every shaking leaf, every broken twig crushed beneath your bare, bloodied feet. You didn’t dare stop. Not yet. Not with their howls still echoing somewhere behind you — cold, sharp, and hunting.
You pressed one hand to your ribs, feeling the dull burn of the wound you hadn’t had time to wrap. The scent of your own blood clung to you now like smoke. Easy to track. A gift-wrapped trail.
“Keep moving,” you whispered to yourself, even though your legs screamed. “Don’t stop. Don’t shift. You can’t.”
Not here. Not yet. If you shifted now — full wolf — there was no telling if you’d come back from it. Your instincts were already clawing too close to the surface, heat curling low in your stomach despite the pain. It was too early. You’d taken suppression pills, you'd timed everything, and still your body had betrayed you.
The mating heat was coming.
And worse, your scent was starting to change.
You stumbled as the ground beneath you dipped, slipping into a shallow ravine thick with damp leaves and the scent of something… different.
The air shifted.
No longer tainted by the old magic of your royal lands — this was wild air. Untamed. And it reeked of wolf.
Territory.
Your breath caught. You’d crossed the border.
Good.
Dangerous, yes — rogue territory meant unregistered hybrids. Packs with no ties to the council, no protection from laws or alliances. It meant savagery. It meant isolation.
It also meant freedom.
You took another step—
And your knees gave out.
You hit the forest floor hard, biting your lip to keep from crying out. You could feel your pulse slowing, the dark edges of unconsciousness pressing in. Warmth trickled from the wound along your ribs, soaking into your side. The cold mud beneath you felt distant now.
Somewhere nearby, a twig snapped.
Not far.
You tried to move, but your limbs were too heavy. Scent — thick, unfamiliar, and alpha strong — washed over you suddenly like a tidal wave.
Then, footsteps. Three sets. Fast. Steady. Circling.
Voices broke through the fog.
“...Someone’s here.” “Do you smell that?” “That’s—no way. That’s a mating scent.”
A low growl. The kind that wasn’t meant to frighten prey — but warn others to back off.
“She’s hurt.” “Careful. Could be a trap.” “No. Look at her. She’s… fated.”
Your last thought before the darkness took you was absurd.
They sound like home.
And then everything went black.
There was blood in the air.
Not the kind that came from a small wound or careless scrape — this was thick, fresh, and layered with something that made Chan’s instincts bristle.
Mating heat.
He knelt beside the girl where she lay crumpled in the leaves, her limbs curled protectively around her core, breathing ragged. Pale, bruised, and obviously running on fumes.
The blood was hers.
“Is she rogue?” Han asked, crouched just behind him, nose twitching. “Why does she smell like… like all of us?”
Chan didn’t answer.
Because he didn’t know.
He was too focused on the wave of emotion trying to drown him.
He’d heard of it happening in theory — the instant recognition, the bone-deep pull that came when you found your mate. But this? This was worse than he’d ever imagined. His wolf was pacing, snarling, desperate to get closer. Claim. Protect.
She shifted slightly, a broken sound leaving her lips. Her scent hit stronger this time — not just heat. Something ancient. Refined. Like a bloodline that had never mingled with common stock.
Noble.
“She’s not rogue,” Seungmin muttered, voice low and tense. “She smells… royal.”
Chan’s head snapped up. “No. That’s not possible.”
“But what if she is?”
Silence.
Felix and Minho were already on their way, their mental link pulsing faintly at the edges of Chan’s consciousness. He could already feel them reacting to her presence, even from a distance.
This was bad.
Or maybe…
This was fate.
“We take her back,” Chan said, standing. “Now.”
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The first thing you noticed was the warmth.
The second was the scent.
Earthy. Deep. Thick with musk, pine, smoke, and… male.
Your eyelids fluttered open slowly, vision swimming. You weren’t in the woods anymore. You were… inside?
No — a den.
Natural stone walls, woven fur blankets, glowing lanterns set into the grooves of the rock. There was a nest built into the far corner — a real nest. Pillows, layered clothes, soft things. Everything about the space screamed wolf pack — a communal den, but refined. Structured.
Your fingers flexed slightly against the thick fabric beneath you. You were lying on what looked like a couch. Someone had removed your cloak. Someone had touched you.
Your heart kicked.
You sat up too fast, pain flaring along your ribs.
A soft gasp — and then:
“Careful. You’re still healing.”
You turned sharply, only to meet a pair of warm brown eyes. The boy was crouched near the den entrance, golden freckles dotting his cheeks, his soft blond hair tied loosely at the nape of his neck. His voice was gentle, but his wolf — you could feel it. Watching. Waiting.
“Who are you?” you rasped.
“I’m Felix,” he said softly. “You’re safe now. You crossed into our territory. Do you remember?”
You did. The river. The voices. The feeling of something ancient snapping into place in your chest.
“Where—” Your voice cracked. “Where are the others?”
“Chan’s out patrolling. Minho and the rest are just outside. They’re giving you space. Your scent’s still… strong.”
Heat flushed under your skin. You could feel it now — suppressed but pushing. Like your body was trying to call them, even if your mind refused.
“You need to rest,” Felix added, inching closer. “We don’t want to rush you.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Why? You don’t know me.”
He held your gaze for a long beat.
“We do,” he said finally. Quiet. Honest. “We all felt it.”
A pause.
“You’re ours.”
Your stomach twisted — not from fear, but from something far more dangerous.
Roommate chronicles ⇢ lee know & jisung & fem reader smut
Pairing Minho x Reader x Jisung
Genre Poly, Smut, Roomates
Summary There are hints you choose to ignore while living with the couple. Expressions, gestures, you convince yourself that it's just friendship with them. You set rules for yourself, so what happens when they decide you should break one? Never share a bed with them.
"y/nnie-" You hear him first. Next, you feel a weight on your lap, fine hairs caressing your skin. You hum, entirely focusing on your game, clicking away on your mouse, your other buried in a handful of hair out of instinct, nails scraping against his scalp absentmindedly.
"Did you want something?" Without looking, all you can feel is his lips pressed to your skin, smiling. Forgot why he came into your room the moment you started to play with his hair, and only remembered now that you asked him.
"Want to watch a movie with Minho and me? We're going to see that new action movie that came out."
"I'm in the middle of this match. Maybe I will join you later." Your hand leaves him, fingers pushing buttons on the keyboard when the round gets intense.
You're about to win, and not even the whining boy on your lap can distract you.
"Come on. You've been at it since morning." You roll your eyes. It's your day off, so you'd naturally want to catch up on your game. You love them, but not being a third wheel.
"If you keep interrupting, I will game until five." Jisung curls his hand around your waist. His voice is muffled against your stomach, but you can tell he's complaining.
"y/n, I made you some snacks." Minho peeks into your room and places a bowl of fruit on your table. Used to Jisung hanging off you like a monkey by now.
"Thanks." You grin, but your eyes never stray from the screen. Once you rearrange your stats, you place your hand back in Jisung's hair, petting him like a lapcat.
"Ji, let's go watch the movie I made popcorn." Minho nudges the boy, but he doesn't budge, pouting and holding you tighter.
"No. I want y/n to come watch it with us and cuddle." Minho sighs, always so stubborn when he hears Jisung's continuous whines about you.
"She's busy." Minho pries his hands off you, easily lifting him up from your lap, which has the boy gasping.
"Not fair." The complaints never stop until you no longer hear them. It's only quiet when they settle down on the couch with blankets, and the film starts playing, with a bowl full of popcorn resting in their lap, ready to be devoured.
You're yawning after you win a few more rounds. It's not that late, but you're tired. In the last couple of days, you worked overtime and the fatigue is catching up.
You pass by the living room to put the empty bowl in the sink. Seeing how they're soundly asleep, wrapped up in each other, the credits rolling. You sigh dreamily.
It's ridiculous how jealous you feel about watching them so cosy and loved. Don't know anymore how long you will be able to pretend you don't want to be a part of it.
They continue to charm you with sweet gestures.
You blame the late-night thoughts for making you feel this way. Hoping that a shower will wash it away, the next time you come out you're wrapped up in comfy clothes ready to go to sleep.
"Go to your room. You guys will be sore if you sleep like that." Minho stirs first. Smiling when he sees you hover over them, gently shaking them awake. Barely sober and half-lidded eyes, he catches your hand and kisses it.
"What time is it?" He asks groggily, fingers curling into yours like it's second nature, and you try to keep your cool. They can't know their actions never fail to make your pulse jump.
"Ten something." Minho hums. Let's you go to cradle Jisung in his arms, you bite your lip, feeling disappointed. Still half asleep, he doesn't realise any of your inner turmoil with Jisung in his arms, he goes back to his room.
You tidy up the living room, not in the mood to sleep, so you fold the blankets and arrange the pillows.
Minho's door creaks open as he emerges, rubbing his eyes. He gives you a backhug mid-fold. "Go to sleep. We will clean up tomorrow." You gulp down some saliva. His lips are against the shell of your ear, he's not saying anything suggestive, but your heart flutters.
"I'm not sleepy." Minho sighs, you're just as stubborn sometimes as Jisung. You're lying, your eyes are dropping as you fold the last blanket.
"Come here."
"Wha-" Minho picks you up effortlessly, he opens his door with one foot and closes it behind you without letting you go even once. You kind of understand why Jisung swoons whenever he gets pricess carried like this. Minho's charm is very dangerous.
"It's not my room." You dumbly state the obvious. Minho puts you down on his bed next to Jisung, who is curled up, but as if he has spidery senses, he drapes himself over you the moment you're placed down.
It's futile to try and detangle as he caged you under him within seconds.
"You seemed down. I know you have been working hard lately." His eyes were full of worry, and your heart ached. They noticed. No wonder they checked up on you more times than they usually would on your day off.
"Sleep with us tonight." Minho brushes a strand of hair behind your ears, and his fingers slowly massage your temple, which makes you feel like jelly. Finally relaxed.
Your eyes close on their own.
"Okay." You give in. Jisung, blissfully unaware, buries his face into your neck. His steady breathing is like a lullaby. You drift off, wrapped up in his embrace.
Minho smiles a lazy one. His fingers brush Jisung's hair. He's smiling because two of his favourite people are cuddled on his bed. Just like he always imagined.
Your eyes are already closed when he kisses your forehead. He looks back one more time before he goes to the bathroom.
He brushes his teeth and gets under the blankets with you.
Joins you in the hug, his fingers brush along your waist, his legs tangle with yours and Jisung's.
You wake up to the sheets pulled down to your waist, feeling cold. You don't think anything is wrong at first. Minho's warm body is wrapping you up in a sleep-induced embrace.
So you close your eyes, ready to go back to sleep, when you first feel it. At your back, the rustle of sheets the careful friction.
Jisung is restless behind you. He's dreaming about something, pg 18, you're sure about that. His fingers are gripping your thighs a lot lower than where Minho is holding you. Subtly grinding against your ass.
Completely awake now, your eyes open wide.
You search Minho's features in panic. Jisung is getting greedier with his moves, and you're afraid the rocking will wake Minho up.
Frozen solid, you don't dare to move. What to do? It's going to get awkward if they wake up. Will they be mad? Jisung probably thinks it's Minho next to him; he was already asleep when you joined them.
"y/nnie" A soft moan, barely audible, but you heard it. It was your name. You close your eyes. Breathe in. Breathe out.
You need to calm down and think.
"Baby." He keeps making soft noises against your neck. You can barely ignore his hard cock pressing into your ass anymore. They were never loud, but you heard soft moaning from time to time.
It feels wrong to be pressed between them. You shouldn't enjoy this. You know you shouldn't, but you still get wet.
You're being a horrible friend.
You're spiralling when you feel fingers grazing your cheek.
Your eyes open in alarm and meet Minho's steady gaze.
There's no way he doesn't realise what's happening. Jisung is getting desperate with each roll of his hips, and you get pressed into Minho more.
"Want me to make him stop?" Your heart beats fast when you hear his raspy morning voice. He's regarding you like he would a scared animal, carefully approaching. His fingers map out your features, pressing on the creases on your forehead. Silently making you relax.
"Aren't you mad?" You ask, scared and confused. For a moment, all you could focus on was Minho before you. Jisung's desperate whimpers were lost behind.
"No. Why do you think that?" Surprised by your question, he deeply frowns. His fingers are still on your jaw.
"Your boyfriend is... getting off on m-me." Too shy to say it to his face, you look down. Minho chuckles. For the first time since he woke up, he looks past you, watching Jisung pressed up to you, his hips lazily grinding on your perky ass. Asleep and moaning like he's about to cream his pants.
"Do we need to spell it out for you to understand? You're not just a friend to us. We like you. We didn't say anything because we thought you weren't ready." You take in the whispered confession. Surprised, but it's not unpleasant.
You know what he meant. They were always transparent with you.
It's you who brushed off their affection and called it a friendship.
"Don't want to scare you, if it's too much, I will make him stop and we won't talk about this again." Minho presses his forehead on yours, his eyes closed as if telling you he's willing to forget this incident pained him. If you asked, you knew he would keep his word. Even if he hated the idea of you rejecting them, he would be willing to accept it if that's what you wanted.
"Do you want to stop?" His voice was barely a whisper; you almost didn't catch that over Jisung's moans. Your breaths mingle calmly as you think. Do you want to stop?
"No." You shake your head. Your fingers tremble as you circle your hands around his neck.
It takes a tilt, and your lips brush against each other. Boldly. It's a shaky press. Only your resolve is firm.
You catch a sigh of relief with your lips. Minho is not hesitant when he presses his mouth to yours; his fingers press to your waist right above where Jisung is holding you in place.
"He's going to cum soon." Minho talks each word, making your lips brush. He's warning you. He can hear the telltale signs. The breathyness at the end of each moan. His fingers are gripping you like a lifeline. Jisung is going to wake up soon.
"Hmn." Minho parts your lips with a swipe of his tongue. Swallows your sounds patiently, his body pressing closer. Sandwiched between their bodies, you let out shy, pleasured sighs against Minho's mouth. Jisung wakes up when his peek comes over him.
Takes note of his fingers gripping you tightly. The next thing he realises is how your clothes are wrinkled. Your panties are on full display since your oversized sweater rolled up and stopped just beneath your ribs. His spent cock wedged between your ass cheeks. It's his turn to open his eyes wide in terror. Afraid you will hate him if you realise. Unaware that you're already awake. Minho giggles at his never-ending expressions. He has a first-class view of it.
"Good morning." Minho smiles, greeting him with a sexy raspy voice that has his cock jump despite the throbbing relief. His hands brush some fallen hair out of his view.
"M- Morning." Shy and frozen, he doesn't dare to move.
It's time to take mercy on him, you think as you blindly reach behind you. Curling your fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck, just like you know he likes it.
You pull his head till his face is buried in your neck, and his lips meet your skin without meaning to.
The three of you just breathe and take in this moment. A rare quiet morning when you're not rushing anywhere.
Jisung is quietly overthinking everything that happened. Internally panicking that he dry humped you like a horny teenager. His release is sticky and uncomfortably soaked through his pants, but he doesn't move to fix it yet.
Waiting for the pin to drop.
"Good morning to you, too." Minho turns to you with an evil smile, letting him spiral a little more. His gaze is full of love when he caresses your cheek.
"Good morning." Your voice is sleepy but kind. Minho and Jisung both sigh dreamily worshipping your sweet morning voice.
Can't hold back anymore, Minho captures your lips in a kiss. Jisung watches you with awe as you kiss back. Your fingers tangle in his hair, gently pulling.
"Fuck." You both chuckle and pull away. Watching as Jisung shyly puts his hand over his mouth not to let out more accidental moans.
"Am I still dreaming? y/n is kissing you." Minho brushes hair away from your eyes, pecking your lips again just to mess with Jisung. He can feel Jisung's eyes follow the movement.
Getting aroused just by watching you two kiss.
"Yes, she's kissing me, and she let you grind against her ass and cum." Jisung blushes. Learning that you were awake the whole time he did that.
"Sorry. I won't do it again, so please don't hate me." Jisung hugs you like his life depends on this; his body slightly shakes. Minho warned him many times that he's too pushy. He could never approach you so carefully like Minho can. Always the impatient one. He's afraid he ruined it.
Minho said that you will come around if he waits patiently. He fucked up.
"I don't hate you. Look at me, Sungie." He looks up fearfully, but there's no frown on your face; you're smiling at him.
Minho kisses under his eyes, holding you and Jisung in his arms. His lips press lovingly on his to soothe.
To see them kiss so up close is really something else. Suddenly surprised how you could resist them for so long.
"y/n likes us, Ji." Minho smiles widely and genuinely. He looks happy.
"Really?" Jisung looks at you for confirmation, but you're still shy about admitting it. Minho is not wrong, but can you say it?
You can't yet.
It doesn't mean you can't show it. Your eyes flutter closed as his breath catches. You're kissing him. It's not a dream. He can clearly feel your lips against him. You don't resist when he hurriedly deepens the kiss, his tongue impatiently exploring, your mouth parting for him with ease. His passionate kiss is making you lose your breath, while Minho's slow and careful swipe of his tongue makes your head dizzy. Perfect in different ways. They don't let you breathe for a very long time. Tangled in the sheets, hurried fingers tilt your head right to left, taking turns in kissing you senseless.
The room is getting humid and hot.
They are getting aroused by the kisses; there's so much spit that it catches the sunlight. Your lips tingle and ache from the pull of teeth, and swell when they let you go.
"One more," Jisung begs, his fingers curling at your thigh. He doesn't wait for you to answer before he captures your lips again. Minho's lips are on your neck, kissing down your throat, reaching through you, his fingers palming Jisung over his pants.
Your back is firmly pressed against Minho's chest, sitting up in bed. Jisung follows both of you, moving to his knees with both hands on your thighs as he chases your lips.
Small moans pressed to your lips. Jisung shakes under Minho's firm press over the tent in his sleeping pants.
Holding onto you is what makes it possible to sit upright.
Catching your breath, his head rolls to your shoulder, kissing the other side of your neck. It's an overwhelming sensation as two mouths lick your skin. Jisung's hand sneaks under your sweater, squeezing your sides. Your back arches in surprise when he fondles your breasts.
Minho opens his eyes as you let out small moans of your own. Mixing with Jisung's needy whines.
Your sweater is pulled up to your collarbones, Jisung's hand in clear view. Minho watches it with bedroom eyes when Jisung wraps his lips around your nipple and suck, his hips jerking against Minho's palm.
Minho could cum just from this sight alone. His lover's mouth over your mound, the other kneading you as he desperately ruts against his hands.
His cock is throbbing, aching and begging to be let out.
Your legs are spread out thanks to Jisung kneeling between them, not enough room to keep it closed. Minho can see your panties. It has a dark patch in the middle. The fabric is soaked by now.
Ignoring Jisung's wish to cum in his pants again, Minho takes his hand away just right before he could.
The same fingers pressing into you through the fabric.
"No-" You try to protest weakly. You're completely drenched; it's embarrassing.
Jisung forgets about his ruined orgasm when he sees how wet you are. Minho's fingers are rubbing you over your clothes. Your hand desperately clutches his wrist, but it feels too good to actually try to stop him.
"Fucking hell. I can't believe you're this wet for us." Minho swears, his fingers slipping under the fabric with ease. Two of his digits part your folds, the sounds it lets out are sinful. A huge turn on.
"I want to touch too." Minho rolls his eyes fondly at how impatient and needy he is, but complies.
"Can we take off your panties, sweetheart?" Minho asks sweetly while making torturous circles over your clit.
"Yes. Yes. You can." At this point, you abandon the way of thinking. The only thing that keeps replaying in your mind is their lips and fingers. Hot, urgent and possessive on your skin.
Jisung caressed your calves, lifting them up to his shoulder, so Minho could slide your panties down your legs. Let's them down when it's removed.
You self-consciously close your eyes as they stare at your folds. Your legs spread out on either side of Jisung's hips.
Minho rubs relaxing circles over your clit with the pad of his thumb. Once pleasure blooms in your tummy, your head fogs up with desire. Not shying away as his fingers continue to caress your folds. Running them up and down your slit.
"Minho." Jisung moans his name like he's the one getting pleasured. His eyes were glued to Minho's long fingers coated in slick.
"Go ahead, baby. Show her how good you are with your mouth." Jisung nods, pressing himself between your thighs, his hips subtly grinding against the sheets before he sinks down for a taste.
Minho and Jisung moan at the same time from tasting you. Directly slurping it up from the source, Jisung's moan vibrates through your folds. Your hips jump, running away from the sensation. Minho hums around his own fingers, licking your taste off his skin.
Pressed between the apex of your thighs, your fingers curl around a few stands of hair, pulling on them gently. It feels so good that you don't know what to do with it. You keep wriggling in Minho's arms. He never lets you get far away from Jisung's skilful mouth. Enjoying the visual of his sweet boy eating you out, he subtly grinds you against him, his cock rock hard behind you.
Jisung moans between loud slurps. His tongue presses into you every now and then. His mouth is all over the place, sucking on your clit and alternating between long, wide licks over your folds.
His oral fixation is reaching new highs. His head is all mushy from your taste. You're different, so warm and slick. Minho is warm too, but you grow softer the more he uses his mouth. With each swipe of his tongue, your insides clench plushy and warm.
You leak into his mouth like an endless fountain, and he drinks it all up. Your clit throbs and your legs threaten to push closed around his head as you cum.
Jisung licks you through it, pressing his fingers to your inner thighs to keep you open for him.
Once he looks up after one last taste, he looks completely dazed.
"My messy baby. Did you enjoy that?" Minho swipes a finger under his chin. Collecting your essence and licking it off. He tastes you on Jisung's mouth.
"I wanted to keep going, but I almost came when she did." Minho hums. Sees the outline of Jisung's cock clearly.
"Can we keep going, or do you need a moment?" Minho wipes the sweat off your brows, kissing you languidly. Jisung kisses your cheek, leaving feather-light kisses over your exposed shoulder. So patient and loving with their touches.
"Can I watch you two?" If you weren't so brain fogged, you would probably never ask them, but you're still feeling boneless after that orgasm, and they look so fine hovering over you. It's not like you never wondered how they do it. You heard them occasionally, but they always respected you living with them. Single. You could only guess.
"Of course, we will let you rest a little." Minho kisses you sweetly. Thinking that you only need some time.
"Kiss me, too." Jisung pouts.
"Always so impatient." Even as he complains he presses his lips on his, licking over Jisung's pout to ask for permission to deepen it.
Minho unwraps him like a present, first getting off his t-shirt, only separating until he pulls it over his head. There's a sticky mess there when his underwear and pants land on the floor. His cock all heavy and twitching against his stomach.
"Need to prep you, baby, look this way." Helping him into position, Minho spreads his legs, spitting on his fingers.
Jisung's hand is resting on either side of your hips, his face levelled with yours as he gets on all fours.
"Wanna help me, sweetheart? Spit on it." You spit onto his hand, and he lets it drip down his fingers. Jisung shivers when his wet hand comes into contact with his hole.
"So pretty like this." Jisung moans, panting like he ran a mile. His eyes were halfway closed in a silent scream when Minho got a second finger inside.
Watching them like this is turning you on again. Minho keeps bubbling about how well he's taking his fingers and how good you two look together like this. Jisung holds you close, his body rocking forward with each movement, and you catch him every time he's about to collapse on you. His legs were already shaking.
You seal his moans against your lips. Kissing him with your hands buried in his hair, Minho lines himself up behind, pulling his pants down just enough to free his cock. Jisung is getting overwhelmed by your dual touches. Minho slides the first few inches in. He takes it like a good boy, a lot better than usual. To get this much in, it usually takes more preparation. You distract Jisung enough that he's not tensing up much as Minho pushes the rest of his cock in.
"So big." Jisung pants against your mouth, both your lips are swollen and full of spit when you separate. He could feel Minho's cock throb inside.
"Take me so well today. Maybe we should thank y/n." Minho kisses you over Jisung's shoulder, the motion makes him buried deeper in his heat. Full.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you." Chants ending in desperate whines. Jisung rocks forward when Minho start thrusting. The sound of his cock slipping back inside is wet and obscene.
His sounds are getting muffled on your shoulder from this position, you can see both of their faces contorted in pleasure.
You can't help but touch yourself at the scene. Rubbing circles over your clit as you watch them fuck.
Minho notices and pushes Jisung's face down, making his back arch with his ass up. Levelling him with your wet folds.
You throw your head back, resting on your elbows, knees spread wide at the first flick of his tongue. Minho doesn't need to say anything to Jisung. His tongue darts out like it's normal, like breathing. His mouth closes over you. Jisung groans at your taste, his licks become impatient, the more you squirm, the more he buries his face into you.
You're still sensitive. Your clit throbs under his precise sucks, only to soothe over it with licks. The vibrations from his moans and wet tongue are all it takes.
You cum on his tongue a second time, and it doesn't take long for him to follow you and release all over the sheets.
Minho gives a few more thrusts, rocking against him, before he cums in him, deep, grinding, not pulling out before he finishes fully.
"I can't feel my legs," Jisung complains when Minho lets him fully rest against your chest, his legs positioned to make it comfortable, before he pulls the covers over the three of you.
"You were the one pushing back against me. I tried to be gentle." That shuts him up real quick, and you laugh when he blushes and hides in your shoulder. Minho looks at you both like you hang up the stars in the sky. You feel sleepy, gross and content at the same time. A little hungry.
"How are you feeling?" Minho kisses your temple, settling down on your other side, getting some hair out of your face slicked with sweat.
"Fine. Craving pancakes." You cosy up to them. Gross and sticky, but they don't mind it as much.
"We can make some," Minho promises. Domestic. Hot. Romantic.
"Or we could go and see that new breakfast place and make it a date." Jisung looks at you with hopeful eyes. It depends on you if you will brush over it like you always do or accept it. He's implying a real date with you and Minho.
You're past the point where you can keep pretending.
"Okay, I would like that." Jisung squuels and hugs you tight. Minho only smiles, but he's very happy to hear that.
It's only the beginning. They are going to worship every inch of you. Consume you in ways you can't imagine and not just with their mouths.
Their eyes connect in a silent agreement, their hands possessive on your naked body as you're blissfully unaware.
They dream of you stuffed full of their cum. Eyes glassy and tangled with them on the sheets.
letting your loser boyfriend hit it raw for the first time at a party turns out better than you’d both expected.
pairing: nerd!han jisung x popular!f!reader, established relationship genre/tags: college au, smut, sub!jisung, oral (m. receiving), jisung being a professional yapper as always, unprotected s*x, an ass slap or two, creampie, overstim words: 2.9k
[ note. ] — last fic upload before i leave for vacayy, hope u guys fw it. also i’m going to be posting all my fics in lowercase from now on for aesthetic purposes <3
you can read the other parts i’ve previously made here and here but this could be read as a standalone !
it’s always the same.
he’ll start talking about his newest little hyperfixation, voice notching an octave or two higher, words tumbling over each other, eyes lit up behind those too-big glasses that never sit quite right on the bridge of his nose. he fidgets with the drawstring of his hoodie while he talks, tugging it tight, then loosening it again, as if he’s trying to keep his own excitement from spilling out too fast.
and you’ll just be sitting there across from him, all pretty and patient, thighs crossed in your tiny skirt, chin resting in your hand, pretending to care. you try, you really do. but the longer he talks, the harder it is to focus, not on what he’s saying, but on him.
because he’s just so fucking cute when he rambles, way too animated and overly passionate. his hands always gesturing in wild, uncoordinated circles, one knee bouncing like he’s trying to burn off the excess energy. he talks super fast, stumbles over words, corrects himself mid-rant, and whenever he gets something right, like some equation or probability he’s been chewing on for hours, he glances at you like he’s hoping you’re proud, like he wants a gold star for being smart.
his lashes are thick behind the lenses, his lips are pink and plush and chapped at the corners, his voice isn’t that deep or confident— it’s soft, a little scratchy, but so full of warmth.
“so if you run the stats for the gacha drop rate and multiply it by, like, uh, thirty-two? you get this number, right? and then you compare that to the JP version’s old banners, and their pity system was actually better than what the global servers offer now, which is total bullshit, ‘cause mathematically it just doesn’t track when you- uh, wait, let me show you..”
he’s flipping his phone around to pull up some cluttered spreadsheet, thumb swiping too fast through endless tabs filled with numbers, graphs, and notes like he’s been preparing for this conversation all week.
you get a little closer, nodding slowly. not because you understand, but because just he looks so goddamn sweet when he’s talking like this. the way his cheeks are flushed from excitement, the way he’s sweating the tiniest bit under the collar of his hoodie, and how he’s so wrapped up in his own little world and still wants you to be part of it.
“baby,” you interrupt, reaching under the table to brush your freshly manicured fingertips along the inside of his thigh, slow and light.
he falters mid-thought. whole body stiffens up and his lips part in a soft little gasp. his glasses slip down a bit and his thumb freezes against the slightly cracked screen, looking up at you like he’s just remembered you exist and realized where he is.
“you’re so cute when you talk like that,” you smile at him, giggling sweetly like you weren’t thinking about jumping his bones right then and there.
jisung blinks, blushing immediately, making a little sound that even he couldn’t describe what it was.
“i-i wasn’t trying to be.. i mean, it’s just numbers. sorry, i was rambling again, wasn’t i? i know it’s boring…”
you shook your head, “not boring,” leaning in even closer now and never breaking eye contact with him, “just makes me wanna fuck you even more.”
he’s full-on glitching now. mouth half open, eyes wide and cheeks so red you can feel the heat radiating off him. his leg jerks under the table and his fingers clench around his phone, nearly dropping it.
“wha—” he squeaks, “you- you can’t just say that. we’re- this is a party, there’s people—”
he’s whispering now, but frantically. internally panicking. looking around like someone might’ve heard you, even though there’s absolutely no one paying mind to either of you.
you lean in some more, all slow and smug, until your lips are practically inches away from each others.
“there’s an empty closet down the hall.”
his breath hitches audibly.
you see the way his adam’s apple bobs, how fast his hand shoots up to adjust his crooked glasses, his thighs shifting under the table, voice caught somewhere between disbelief and arousal.
he’s already hard, you know him well enough to know the telltale signs. tenting his grey sweats, twitching against the fabric as you slid your hand higher. he doesn’t even try to stop you, just sits there, jaw slack, watching you with big eyes like you’ve cast some kind of spell.
maybe you have, because the thing is— jisung doesn’t really do parties. he wasn’t invited to shit like this before, not until you came into the picture.
he was always known as the weird kid in STEM. the one who played rhythm games in the library and forgot to eat lunch when he was coding. he wore sweatshirts in summer and muttered to himself and would gett teased by the lacrosse team. so he never really expected to be dating the prettiest girl he’s ever laid eyes on for nearly three months now, the one who wears expensive lipgloss and wears matching juicy couture tracksuits with her friends who stared at him like he’s an alien.
but you love and adore him in a way that still feels surreal to him. you’d hold his hand in public, kiss his cheek in the hallways, wait for him after every class, sit in his lap and call him baby, not caring if people swap odd locks about such an unlikely pair. it lowkey terrifies him, but he’s obsessed, because he’s yours.
and the fact that you want him this badly? it blows his mind. every. single. time.
your fingers drag up his thigh and he twitches again, a shaky moan falling from his lips before he bites it back. he’s warm, already leaking, probably. you can feel how sensitive he is, how badly he wants it.
you tug him up by the sleeve, smiling, your tone soft but firm.
“don’t make me ask twice.”
by your words alone, han jisung knows that he’s already done for.
+
the second the closet door slams shut behind you, he wastes zero time to be all over you— not in a confident way though. it’s messy, too eager, full of stifled sounds and nervous fingers, as if he’s afraid if he doesn’t kiss you now, he might never get the chance again.
his lips move over yours too fast and sloppy, his hands everywhere all at once, gripping your waist, your hips, your sides like he can’t decide where to touch first. his nose accidentally bumps against yours when he tries to kiss you deeper and you giggle into his mouth, gently slowing him down with your palms at his jaw.
“easy, baby,” you whisper, barely parting from him.
“s-sorry,” he breathes out, already so out of it. “i just.. you look so good tonight, and your skirt- fuck- i’ve been thinking about it all day, i couldn’t focus when you sat on my lap after class, i was so close to cumming—”
“ji,” you interrupt sweetly, brushing your knuckles over his cheek. “you’re rambling again.”
he shuts up immediately. blushing.
you lean in to press a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, going down even further until your knees coil down to the floor, right in front of him.
he could literally feel his heart beating out of his chest.
“w-wait,” he stammers, his back already hitting the wall. “baby, you don’t have to- fuck..”
his words fall apart the minute you tug down the waistband of his sweats, his boxers go with them, and his cock springs free in front of you— flushed a pretty shade of pink, tip already leaking delicious precum, and twitching where it rests against his stomach. so thick, so heavy, so obscenely hard. you don’t even touch it before he moans.
you look up through your lashes, watching the way he presses the back of his head to the wall, lips parted like he’s trying to remember how to properly breathe.
then you lean forward, slowly dragging your tongue from the base to the tip.
he shudders so hard his legs almost give out.
“jesus christ,” he bit down on his lip harshly, “your mouth.. shit, feels too good, i can’t—”
his thighs are trembling, and his hand reaches out instinctively to cradle your jaw, anchoring himself to feel something.
you smile around the head of his cock before wrapping your lips around it, sliding your head down. soft, warm suction, just enough pressure to make him gasp. you suck deeper, taking more of him in your mouth as your hand strokes the rest in slow, steady pulls. spit runs down your wrist, the sound is wet, vulgar, echoing off the walls of the cramped space.
he groans again, louder this time. one leg shifts to stabilize himself.
“oh my god,” he gasps, “oh fuck- baby, baby- shit—”
his voice breaks on every moan, hips twitching forward, but he doesn’t thrust. he never does. he’s too good, too well-trained.
but he literally can’t stop shaking.
“you’re so good,” he whimpers, praising you to no end. “you’re so fucking good at that, i’m not gonna last.. ’m gonna- fuck, you’re ‘bout to make me cum—”
you pull off with a soft ‘pop’, your hand still stroking him agonizingly slow.
“you better not cum yet,” you warn, pressing your tongue under the head and dragging it gently along the slit. “you haven’t even been inside me.”
his whole body jolts. eyes going wide, almost scared, like the idea of fucking you now might actually break him.
“then let me—” he blurts out, hands twitching at his sides. “pleasepleaseplease. fuck, i need to. i wanna be inside, please baby, can i fuck you now?”
you smile and finally stood up, turning around to face the wall.
“fuck me like this, ji,” you whisper, hiking your skirt up and wiggling your ass against him. “fuck me raw.”
he’s completely frozen, his breath stuttering in his throat.
“wha- are you serious? wait- y/n- no condom?”
you glance back at him with half-lidded eyes, giggling.
“you wanna feel me, right?” you ask, no hesitation detected in your words. “you wanna cum inside?”
he nods so quickly its almost embarrassing, his hands are moving faster than his brain can form a thought.
“yes. fuck. please,” he choked out desperately, already fumbling his cock into his hand.
his grip is shaky, you feel the blunt head brush your folds once, twice, then he finally lines up right and sinks in— real slow and careful, bracing himself as he slides in every inch. his moan is strangled, like hes unsure of whether he’s dying or dreaming.
your wetness takes him easy, your pussy already clenching around him with need, swallowing him so greedily he loses control of his rhythm for a second. he bottoms out with a deep, gasping groan, cock buried to the hilt, your walls pulsing around him.
“holy shit,” he breathes out, practically shaking. “you’re so warm.. s-so tight.. baby.. oh my god—”
you barely have time to process the stretch before he’s stuttering forward with a broken whimper, hips twitching.
two thrusts. that’s all it takes.
you feel the sharp jerk of his cock, the way his whole body tenses up, and then the sudden warmth flooding you deep inside….
he cums early. too hard and way too fast.
you smirk, turning your head slightly, “oh no,” you murmur. “you didn’t just cum, did you?”
jisung lets out the softest, most wrecked noise you’ve ever heard and hides his face against your back, the tip of his nose pressed between your shoulder blades.
“fuck,” he groans. “’m sorry.. i couldn’t help it! fuck, it just felt too good, your pussy’s too perfect, i didn’t mean to—”
you clench around him, tight and deliberate.
his knees nearly buckle.
“you’re not pulling out.”
he gasps again, panicked and overwhelmed.
“b-but i already- baby, wait, ’m sensitive—”
you simply drown out his whines and start rolling your hips back, slow and deep, grinding against him, and he whimpers.
“then cum again,” you demand sharply.
his hands slid down the slope of your waist, fingers gripping tightly, mentally preparing himself for the next round. even though he’s overstimulated, his cock never softens. still rock hard inside you, still twitching, still leaking.
your pussy’s so wet now it’s sinful, every roll of your hips drawing a filthy squelch, your slick and his cum mixing into a hot, messy slop between your thighs. it’s dripping down his balls already.
“you’re milking me,” he whines, voice high and sweet. “fuck, fuck.. i can’t- ’m gonna cum again- already- baby, please. s’too much—”
“you can do it,” you breathe, forehead pressed against the wall. “you’re doing so good, ji. fuck, feel so full.. love your cock so much,”
he moans like it hurts.
his pace picks up, just a litttle. short thrusts. clumsy and deep.
your ass bounces back against his thighs with every movement, and he can’t stop watching it. can’t stop staring at the way your body moves for him, the way you take him. he reaches around and grabs a handful of your tits, squeezing greedily, fingers slipping under your top like he’s desperate to feel your skin. you’re bouncing in his hands with every thrust and he whimpers against your shoulder.
“you’re so beautiful,” he pants. “so fucking beautiful. your tits, your ass. god, your pussy’s made for me- i swear—”
you feel it again. the sudden twitch of his hips, the quickening pace, and then he slaps your ass once.
you freeze and so does he.
“…did you just slap my ass?” you say, trying not to laugh.
“i-i don’t know,” he stammers behind you. “i didn’t mean to.. i mean- i did, but also i didn’t- fuck, it just happened..”
you giggle and push back against him, grinding your ass into his hips.
“do it again.”
he moans and gives you another gentle, shy little slap.
“’m sorry,” he breathes. “you’re just so hot. your ass jiggles everytime i move, it’s driving me insane- i love you.. i love you so much—”
his arms wrap around your middle, pressing his lips to the back of your neck, kissing softly, over and over. each one messier than the last, wet and open-mouthed and desperate.
“i wanna stay inside you forever,” he mumbles into your dewy skin. “wanna keep fucking you like this, raw, every single day. wanna wake up buried in your pussy- cum in you before breakfast, again before bed—”
your whole body trembles. the heat’s unbearable now, your orgasm building sharp and tight in your belly.
“‘m gonna marry you,” he rambles again, “make you mine- fuck, i love you, love you, love you—”
you clench down and he cries out. hips stuttering.
his cock throbs inside you, deep and messy, and he cums again— hot and thick and endless, spilling into your cunt like he’s trying to fill you up completely. you feel it leak around him instantly, dripping down your thighs, making a mess between you.
your walls flutter and you go with him. body shaking, legs unsteady, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave.
you squirt. hard.
you feel it spray out around him, and he groans so deep it turns into a moan that curls into a whine. he’s still inside. still twitching. and your pussy’s squeezing every last drop from him.
you both go limp, falling forward against the wall, panting, soaked in sweat and cum, but fully in love with each other.
his arms stay looped around you. his lips trail down your spine, kissing every inch of skin he can reach, mouth whispering shaky little “i love you’s” in between labored breaths.
you’re still dripping. still stuffed full of him.
you feel him kiss your shoulder again, going up to your neck. his hands are still cupping your tits like they belong to him.
“you’re my favorite person,” he mumbles, voice dreamy and thick. “you’re so good to me. you’re everything.”
you laugh breathlessly. your legs are barely holding you up.
“you’re insane,”
“and you let me fuck you raw,” he says, smiling against you. “so who’s really the insane one?”
you snort and roll your eyes, tugging your skirt down. your thighs are all sticky and your knees are a little wobbly.
he pulls his sweats back up, still swaying on his feet. glasses fogged, damp strands of hair sticking to his forehead, lips red and puffy from kissing every part of you.
you’re about to open the closet door when he tugs you back in and kisses you— deep and passionate. nothing controlled. just all lips and tongue and the faint taste of sweat.
“was it… was it good?” he asks shyly, eyes wide and searching.
you grin, still panting. “ji, you have the best dick i’ve ever had.”
he whines, hiding in your neck like he can’t handle hearing such high level of praise coming from you.
“you’re so fucking lucky to have me,” he mumbles into your skin.
you roll your eyes. “you literally came in two thrusts.”
“okay, but it was two raw thrusts. that’s different!” he attempts to defend himself.
he has a point. kind of.
you both sneak back into the party a few minutes later. jisung’s face is flushed, hair a mess, his walk wobblier than usual. your thighs are still slick and your lipgloss is ruined.
if anyone notices they don’t say anything.
but jisung doesn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the night.
Vampire!Bang Chan x Reader | blood ritual, silk sheets, first time he finally takes you
🔞synopsis: You weren’t looking for luxury. You were looking for survival. But then he chose you—Bang Chan. Now you sleep in silk, eat like royalty, and bleed for him on schedule. He’s fed from you before. Gentle. Controlled. Ritualistic. But he’s never fucked you. Not once. Tonight, that changes. Because his hunger is showing. His eyes are black. And you’re in that dress he bought you. And when he finally takes his bite—he doesn’t stop there.
💌a/n: OK SO LISTEN 🩸 Yes. I know I answered an ask ages ago about how Chan is so rich. but for this series? i said fuck it. switched it up. because he deserves it. you deserve it. silk sheets and bite marks forever. also no, i’m not making profiles for every member. that’s boring and I’m busy making them FEED AND FUCK INSTEAD 😌 priorities. if you’re not bleeding and shaking by the end, did you even read it? 🔪💋✨
p.s. reblog if it ruined you. reblog if you whimpered. reblog if you said “oh.” out loud.
p.p.s. more members coming next Wreck Me Wednesday!
p.p.p.s. blood tastes better when it’s yours. ok bye 🖤
⚠️ warnings: 18+ / MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | biting kink | marking kink | blood drinking as foreplay (and during) | fingering + grinding | overstimulation | breeding kink language (explicit) | “mine” possessiveness dialled to 1000 | choking (light, erotic) | mirror of praise + filth | power imbalance | luxury kink | ritualistic aftercare | cum, blood, and luxury bath oils
The idea of becoming a Blood Doll didn’t start as a fantasy. It started as a last resort.
You weren’t desperate. Just… cornered. By bills. By bruises you didn’t ask for. By nights too long and mornings that arrived with nothing but guilt and cold toast. Seoul was a city of glass towers and low shadows. You had lived in both.
You weren’t supposed to know about the Veil. About vampires. About what they offered behind silk-curtained doors. But you did. One overheard conversation in a blood clinic waiting room was all it took. A name passed like a secret. A dare:
“LUXE Health. If you’re lucky, someone will choose you.”
So you cleaned yourself up. Not for them. For you. You memorized their rules. Got the bloodwork done. Sold everything else. And when you finally arrived—dressed in borrowed black with lips bitten pink—you didn’t flinch.
Because somewhere beneath the hunger and the silence, you had a single thought: “If I’m going to belong to someone… make it him.”
You saw him before he saw you. Or maybe that’s just what you tell yourself now.
Bang Christopher Chan. The vampire who owns medicine. The one whose name is spoken in hushed reverence at trauma wards and whispered in moans between silk sheets.
Abnormal. Born, not turned. The kind of vampire the Veil fears because they cannot predict him.
He didn’t need to feed from you that night. He didn’t even touch you. Just read your file, looked into your eyes, and said—
“You’ll do.”
Not cruel. Not kind. Just… certain. And that certainty rewired you.
That was three months ago.
Now, you live on the top floor of a private Luxe facility in Gangnam. You don’t work. You don’t pay. You just exist—dripping in silk, gliding past glass, touched only by magic and occasionally by him.
You eat better than royalty. Your scent is monitored for health. Your sheets are laundered daily in blood-neutral detergent. Every book you ever mentioned liking? It's in your room. Your bath oils are imported. Your wardrobe is measured by hand.
But he hasn’t fucked you. Not once. Not yet. He’s fed. God, has he fed.
The first time, you thought you’d die from how soft he made it. The second time, you wanted him to bite deeper. The third time? You whimpered his name. He smiled, lips wet, but didn’t take you. Not then.
And yet—he gives.
A diamond choker with a spell-lock that hums when you're near danger. A dress you only wore once, now preserved in a glass case because he liked how you looked in it. Shoes hand-delivered from a Paris atelier, dyed to match the undertone of your skin. Perfumes keyed to his scent.
He gives like a man who has everything—except you.
Tonight, you had been his date. A Veil-chartered event in an underground gallery beneath Itaewon. Not that you paid much mind, except the fact that you stood by him looking all pretty, dressed by him.
And now? Now you’re back in the penthouse.
Your heels click across imported stone. You’ve just slipped off your earrings when you feel it—the hum in the walls. The signal. Feeding hour.
He’s never missed one.
You turn, heart already pounding.
He’s in the doorway. Loosened collar. No tie. Silver watch still on his wrist. And his eyes…
Black.
“Sit,” he says, voice silk-dark.
And you do, because God, you always obey.
He crosses the room like a secret unfolding—measured, lethal, beautiful. His gaze never leaves yours. Not even as he loosens the first button of his shirt. Not even as he sheds his jacket and drapes it over the back of a chair. The air shifts around him—cooler, heavier. The scent of cedar and clove curled in hunger.
You sit where he wants you. On the edge of the fainting couch, legs pressed together beneath silk that still smells like his cologne. Your lipstick is still intact. Your throat bare. The pulse at your neck, traitorous.
He kneels in front of you.
Not like a man worshipping. Like a vampire calculating.
His fingers brush your ankle, sliding upward in a touch so light it’s almost imagined—up the line of your shin, over your knee, until he’s nudging the hem of your gown higher, just enough to settle between your legs, kneeling. Commanding.
He doesn't speak right away. Just watches you.
Eventually, he reaches for your wrist. Not to feed.
Just to hold. “You're warm.”
You nod, breath shallow. "I always am. After we go out."
Something flickers across his face. Amusement? Possession?
He leans forward. Mouth hovering over your neck. Not touching. Just breathing. "Do you want the bite here?"
"Yes."
He doesn’t kiss you. He doesn’t ask again. He bites.
You gasp. His fangs are surgical. Smooth. Deep. You feel it in your blood, in your thighs, in the way your dress shifts against your hips as your whole body arches toward him.
It’s not pain. It’s pressure.
One of his hands at your waist, the other on your thigh, grounding you as he drinks your sweet blood in slow. His tongue flicks once. Just once. Over the wound.
And that’s what makes you whimper.
His groan is almost inaudible. Almost. He drinks a little deeper.
You clutch the shoulder of his shirt and try to stay still—but you can’t.
You shift. You rub your knees together. You tilt your head further back like it’ll coax more of him out, like it’ll make him—
He stops. Pulls back. Blood on his lips. Collarbone flushed. Hands tighter now.
You’re panting.
"You should rest."
But he doesn’t mean it. Because his eyes are still black. And his cock is hard under his trousers. And you’re still in that dress he picked—silk, slit high, neckline low enough for his teeth to dip beneath.
“You’re still hungry,” you whisper.
He says nothing. But his hand slides higher up your thigh. Just barely. Just enough.
“Feed again,” you murmur.
He exhales. Shaky. Like he’s fighting something ancient. “If I feed again,” he says, voice wrecked, “I won’t stop.”
Your reply is immediate. “I don't want you to stop.”
His hand grips your thigh harder.
A beat. Two. And then—he snaps. His mouth crashes to yours like it’s the only law he’s ever obeyed.
Hot. Wet. Starving.
There’s no finesse. No restraint. Just tongue and breath and blood—your blood—smearing between your lips as he kisses you like he’s waited centuries. You taste iron and cedar and the slick salt of him groaning into your mouth.
His palm slides up your spine, yanks you forward. You gasp. He swallows it. You moan. He deepens it. Your fingers claw at his shirt, dragging it open, buttons scattering somewhere onto the marble.
“Chan—”
“Shut up,” he growls, biting your bottom lip, licking where it splits. “I told you. I won’t stop now.”
You don’t want him to.
Because you can’t think. Can’t breathe. Can’t survive if he doesn’t keep kissing you like that—like he’s drowning in you and wants to take you under with him.
He stands, dragging you up with him, your body flush to his. His hands on your ass, gripping through silk. You feel him—hard and heavy—pressed against your stomach. You grind against him. Shameless. He groans into your mouth like you just handed him your soul.
“On the bed,” he rasps, voice ruined.
You don’t walk. You stumble. He follows, eyes black, jaw clenched, pupils blown so wide you swear they swallow the moonlight.
Three steps from the bed, you spin and grab him by the open collar of his shirt—what’s left of it—and pull.
Hard.
He stumbles with you, low grunt in his throat, and you fall back onto the sheets like gravity’s been waiting for this moment.
Silk against your spine. Chan above you, braced on trembling arms. His shirt ripped wide open from your fingers, chest heaving. Eyes on your lips before leaning in again. Lips on your own. Tongue hot and deep, one hand gripping your jaw like he wants to brand his name there.
His knee shoves between your thighs and you start grinding against it. Moan into his mouth like a sinner under oath.
Your dress slips off one shoulder and of course he notices and his mouth leaves yours—trailing fire down your throat, tongue flicking the half-healed bite on your neck. You arch like a live wire. He sucks. You cry out. And then he speaks against your skin.
“You don’t understand what you’ve just done,” he rasps, voice shaking. “Letting me kiss you. Letting me taste it from your lips…”
He presses his forehead to your collarbone. His breath shudders. So does your body. “I’ve waited,” he says. “I’ve waited—every night. Let you heal. Let you rest. I was good.”
He lifts his head. Stares down at you. “But now you’ve ruined that.”
His hand slides under the slit of your dress. Fingers ghost over your inner thigh. He groans. "Fuck, you're so wet baby."
You whimper.
He leans down again, nose brushing your jaw, lips grazing your ear—
“One more bite,” he whispers. “Then I fuck you. And I don’t stop until your blood knows who it belongs to.”
"Please." You say. Desperate for it.
Chan's lips press against your shoulder, just below the dip of silk where your dress has fallen. He's slow, gentle, taking his time. Before finally, he bites and you gasp, sharp and wrecked.
His fangs in slowly this time. Not like earlier. No urgency. This bite is...savouring.
You clutch the sheets, back arching as he feeds again—mouth latched to your skin, tongue lapping slowly between pulses. Every draw pulls heat to your core. Every sound he makes against your skin echoes between your thighs.
And then you finally feel his hand parting your legs more, fingers brushing over your already soaked panties. You twitch and he groans into the wound.
"Dropping," he murmurs, mouth still on your flesh. "From being bit."
His fingers slip beneath the fabric. Contact. He traces the seam of your folds with two fingers before running them up again, pressing into your just enough to make your hips holt.
You moan out. That moan ripped straight from the center of you.
He chuckles darkly. Fangs still buried. Your blood on his tongue. Your cunt in his palm.
"So sweet," he growls. "Every part of you."
His thumb starts to circle that bundle of nerves. Not fast. Not hard. Just deep, tight pressure—rhythmic, possessive, hypnotic.
You’re panting now. Writhing. Your blood still feeding him as he works you from below.
His free hand grabs your thigh, pinning it open. “This pussy’s been waiting for me,” he hisses, licking over the bite again. “Wet and so so perfect for me.”
Two fingers thrust inside and your head snaps back. A choke moan spills out. You feel everything.
“Say it,” he demands, pulling back from your shoulder, licking the wound clean. “Say who owns you.”
“Y-You—fuck—Chan, it’s you—”
“Say it properly.”
His fingers curl just right.
“You own me,” you cry. “You own all of me—*fuck—*please don’t stop—”
“I told you,” he pants, mouth against your lips again, hand fucking you slow and deep, “I’m not stopping tonight.”
Chan finally pulled back, slowly. Fangs retracting from your skin. Mouth now painted with your blood again. He looks wrecked. Hair falling into his eyes. Chest rising like a storm's behind it. But his fingers? They've started fucking into you, a slow pace.
He sits back on his heels between your thighs, one hand fucking deep, slow, curling into that spot that makes your breath catch and your thighs twitch. The other hand trails up your waist until it cups your breast through the fabric. His thumb brushes over your nipple.
“Aw, look at you,” he coos, voice soaked in dark heat. “Dripping for me. Can feel it, baby girl.” His fingers move faster now—tight little thrusts that make your cunt clench, soak, squeal.
“You gonna cum?”
“Yes—yes, I—”
“I can feel it,” he growls. “All that sweetness pulling around my fingers. Fuck—so tight. So fucking good for me.”
He leans over, tongue lapping at the blood smeared down your clavicle while he finger fucks you harder. “That’s it. Let go. Be good. Cum on my hand.”
You cry out—knees jerking, hands clawing at the sheets, your entire body arching as heat snaps. Your orgasm crashes through you. But Chan doesn’t stop. Not until you’re trembling under him, cunt pulsing around his fingers, thighs soaked and twitching.
“Good girl,” he whispers. “You give so fucking much. You always do.”
He pulls his fingers out slow, watching the mess string between you.
Then—finally—his hands go to your dress. He peels it off of you, revealing every inch of your body to his hungry eyes. "Now," he murmurs, eyes dark again. "Now I take what's mine."
You barely catch your breath before you hear it—
The sound of his belt unbuckling.
Fast. Sharp. Desperate. He’s done waiting. His slacks fall in seconds. Boxers shoved low. His cock now in full view. Heavy, thick, veins pulsing. He is already flushed, the tip angry red and dripping.
Your mouth parts in awe. Your cunt clenches in instinct. “Look at you,” he breathes, crawling back over you, cock resting hot against your thigh. “Already shaking… and I haven’t even put it in yet.”
He grabs himself—gives one slow stroke, tip dragging along your folds as he lines up. You feel the heat of it.
“You want it?” he rasps.
“Yes. Please—”
“Then take it.”
And he pushes in. Slowly, gently, wanting to savour the feeling of your walls around his cock. You arch with a cry—eyes wide, fingers scrambling to hold onto something. But it’s no use. You’re being split. He’s so thick, and the stretch is perfect—too perfect. Your pussy tightens around him like velvet glove, and he groans low, forehead dropping to yours.
“Fuck, baby girl—so fucking tight—so good for me—”
He bottoms out.
One perfect grind of his hips. You feel everything. But he doesn't move yet, his hips flushed with yours.
"You take me so well," he whispers. "This pussy was made for me. You were made for me."
You whimper, breathless.
"Please—move—”
"I can. Remind me, who do you belong to baby?"
"You—you, Chan—fuck, I’m yours—”
"Good girl." he whispers. Pulling back and then slamming back in. Hard. Deep. Merciless. His thrusts picking up pace. Harder into you. Your body jerks up over the bed. He grabs your waist, pulls you back onto him.
Over and over.
The sound is obscene—skin on skin, soaked and slick. Your name is gone. All that exists is his name—Chan, Chan, Chan—echoing from your mouth, screamed into sheets, licked from your lips by the man breaking you open.
“You feel that?” he grits, fucking you deep, jaw clenched. “That’s mine. This body. This blood. This fucking cunt—”
He slaps your thigh. You moan.
“Say it again.”
“I’m yours—yours, yours, yours—”
He groans—fucks you harder. At least for a few more thrusts until he moves again. Shifts. Flips you over. Fast. Rough. Hands firm under your hips. One sharp drag and your body turns beneath him—your chest to the sheets, ass up, knees wide on instinct.
You gasp, caught off guard by the dominance of it. And he just laughs—low, filthy, feral.
“That’s better,” he growls behind you. “Now I can really fucking feel you.”
His hand spanks your ass and you jolt.
Chan drags his cock through your slick folds again. Lining himself up. "Stay still," he commands. "Take it.£
And he thrusts back in. Hard. Deep. Full.
You scream. Into the pillow.
He fills you so completely from this angle, cock hitting new spots you didn’t know existed. And when he grinds in deep—stays there—you feel your whole body shudder.
Chan's hand moves into your hair. Fisting it and yanking your head back just enough that you arch for him. And the other hand? It wraps around your throat.
"You look so pretty like this," he hisses into your ear. "Open. Dripping. Mine."
He starts moving again—fucking you slow and rough, every stroke long and deep and perfectly angled. You’re choking on moans now—your own breath caught in your throat where his hand rests, light but threatening. Possessive.
“You gonna cum again?” he pants, hips slamming into you. “Gonna soak me like a good little blood doll?”
You nod—whimper—beg.
“Say it,” he growls.
“I—I’m gonna cum—fuck, Chan, please—”
“That’s right,” he snarls. “Do it. Let go.”
He pulls your hair harder. His cock slams deeper. And you shatter. Second orgasm—harder than the first—slams through you like lightning. Your whole body convulses, cunt pulsing around him so tight he groans, slams in deeper, loses rhythm—
“Fuck.”
He lets go of your throat. Pushes you flat to the bed, still buried inside you.
And then? He pulls out—panting, ruined—and flips you again.
“We’re not done,” he breathes. “Not until I fill you.”
You’re breathless. Sprawled on the sheets on your back again after being flipped. Skin flushed, throat kissed red, thighs sticky and trembling.
But he’s not done.
Chan climbs over you again—eyes black, cock still hard, soaked with your slick and heat and ownership. He grabs your legs, lifts them, pushes them up high over his shoulders.
You whimper. He growls.
“One more,” he rasps. “You’re gonna take one more.”
And then he thrusts back in. His thrusts never easing up, except this time instead of being fast, they're harder, deeper. Hitting deep inside your pretty dripping cunt.
Your legs tremble where they rest on his shoulders, your hips arching up instinctively to meet his every thrust. He’s so deep now—your cunt swallowing every inch, fluttering around him like it already misses him when he pulls back.
“So tight,” he pants, sweat dripping from his jaw as he fucks into you. “So full. You feel that?”
He leans down—body folding over yours, pressing you into the bed. You gasp at the intensity—your knees practically touching your ears, your body caged beneath him. And before you know it, his mouth finds your throat again. Not the old bite. No.
This time it's lower. Right over your pulse. A new mark. A new claim.
He sinks his fangs in—again. But this time? He cums. At the same fucking moment.
You feel it—his cock twitching deep inside you, spilling into you with a primal, guttural growl against your skin. His hips still grind as he pumps you full, fucking it deeper, deeper, until your stomach coils from the pressure and the heat and the ache.
“That’s it,” he pants against your skin. “Take it. All of it. I’m gonna fill you—mark you—fuck it so deep into you it'll leak all night.”
He’s still feeding, slow now—tongue lapping, lips suckling, like your blood is the final part of the ritual.
And you? You’re crying his name.
“Chan—Chan—fuck—yes—yours—”
He lifts his head, face painted with blood and victory and crashes his lips onto yours.
Wet. Possessive. Full of cum and blood and everything he is.
“Good girl,” he whispers, against your swollen lips. “My good little blood doll.”
He pulls out—slow. Your thighs twitch. His cum leaks from between them. He watches it, chest heaving, and smirks before his eyes move on to you. Eyes no longer black, but softer now, sparklier. You’re wrecked beneath him, trembling and flushed, marked in blood and sweat and cum.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, fingers ghosting up your thigh. “You took me so well.”
You try to speak. Can’t. All you can do is breathe—shaky, grateful, undone. He leans down. Presses one kiss to your cheek. Another to your temple. Then the curve of your throat where your blood still lingers.
“You’re okay,” he whispers, so gentle it nearly makes you cry. “You’re mine now. And I take care of what’s mine.”
He moves with eerie speed after that, but never rushes you. One moment he’s gone, and the next—he’s back.
A warm cloth in his hand.
Something for your bite marks.
A glass of cold water.
A square of dark chocolate—your favourite.
“Small sugars after feeding,” he says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Prevents dizziness. Helps the body remember pleasure.”
You nibble it, fingers weak. He watches every movement like it’s precious.
Then he scoops you into his arms. You’re already drifting—high on oxytocin, on safety, on the way he smells like expensive oud and dark cherry blood.
“Where are we going…?” you murmur.
“Bath,” he says, already striding down the marble hallway. “You’re not sleeping with my cum leaking down your thighs onto silk sheets."
You huff a laugh into his chest. "Didn't you say you wanted me to leak all night?"
"I don't remember that. I never said that." But Chan is smiling, dimple smile and his ears are red.
In the bathroom, he takes the time to set you down on the edge of the tub gently while he takes care of filling it up with warm water, adding in jasmine oils. Whilst the tub fills up, Chan steps back to undress fully now, taking off that ripped shirt off.
By the time the tub is filled up, Chan makes sure to ease you in the tub, hands firm yet gentle before sliding in behind you and pulling your back to his chest, arms wrapping around your waist.
"You did so well tonight," he says softly, mouth brushing your shoulder. "I told you id' take care of you."
You nod. Too relaxed to speak.
His fingers draw idle shapes over your stomach, over the curve of your breast, over the softest parts of you that no one else touches.
“Sleep here, if you want,” he whispers. “Stay here. Forever.”
You simply relax, your head against his shoulder, eyes fluttered closed, breathing steady. "Mmm...forever." you murmur.
And Chan leans down to press a kiss to the side of your head.
Tattoo Artist!Han Jisung x Reader | He tattoos like an artist and eats like a god. You're ruined. Congratulations.
🔞synopsis: Tattoo Artist AU. You just wanted a tattoo. What you got was a cocky artist with a praise kink, a filthy mouth, and the ability to make you cum so hard you forget your name. What starts as innocent skin-on-skin becomes texts at 3AM, breathless calls, panties on the floor, and getting ruined over a tattoo chair by a man who calls his dick “emotionally supportive.”
💌a/n: HELLO DEMONS. welcome back to my sin bin. and YES. i spun the wheel of filth™ again because i have too many prompts, too many requests, too many ideas and i am ONE feral braincell away from combusting. this week’s winner of the roulette: jisung x reader, tattoo shop edition. hence why this was posted late — i had no idea what to write and then accidentally birthed a full plotline, two orgasms, a man with separation anxiety, and the best dick of your fictional life. oops 😇
p.s. reblog this or i will haunt your mirrors at 3AM whispering “dumb little slut” in han’s voice.
p.p.s. if you message me your fave skz member, i might drop you a mini filthy tattoo artist!AU ficlet just for them. no promises. only threats.
p.p.p.s. light a candle. hydrate. send this to a friend
The sky is bruising purple with evening haze. You’re standing outside a tattoo parlour in a tucked-away alley—NO SAINT INK—recommended by a friend who said, “Go there. Ask for Han.”
You’re nervous. Not just because it’s your first tattoo—but because your stomach won’t stop twisting with that type of anticipation. The kind you feel when you know something irreversible is about to happen.
The parlour looks nothing like the industrial, hyper-masculine shops you've passed before. It’s dark, yes—but with soft underlighting. Neon signs buzz low in the windows, one glowing "SINNER'S HANDS" in deep red. Another in cursive:
“we only leave beautiful scars.”
You push the door open, bell jingling. It smells like antiseptic and incense. Lo-fi hip hop pulses from hidden speakers. The walls are matte black, scattered with flash art—some delicate, some obscene. A few erotic, one absolutely feral. You step toward the desk—
And then you see him.
Han Jisung.
Slouched in a leather chair behind the counter, legs spread wide, one hand holding a sketchpad, the other spinning a tattoo gun idly between his fingers like a toy.
Dark, slightly wavy hair. A few strands falling into his eyes. Rings on nearly every finger. One silver bar in his eyebrow. Another glinting on his lip.
He's wearing a sleeveless hoodie, arms covered in ink—some intricate, some scrawled like afterthoughts. His forearms flex as he shifts, glancing up at you lazily, and then—
Freeze.
He smirks. Not the kind of smirk you’re used to. This one slides slow across his face like silk on skin—cocky, amused, interested. He sets the sketchbook down and stands, sauntering over.
“You lost, angel?”
His voice is warm gravel. A little teasing. He’s already clocked you as a first-timer.
You swallow. “No. Um… I think I have an appointment? For 5PM?”
He leans against the counter, gloved hand flipping through the schedule.
“Name?”
You give it. He taps the page. “First ink?” he asks, gaze flicking over you.
You nod.
His eyes drag down your form and back up again—like he’s marking you before the needle ever touches you. “Cute.”
A pause.
“Alright. You’re with me.”
The moment he leads you past the curtain, everything quiets. Not literally—there’s still the low thrum of lo-fi beats playing through overhead speakers, and you can hear the soft buzz of a machine in the next booth—but something in the air shifts. You’ve stepped into his space now.
The room is dim, intentionally so. Not cold or sterile, but intimate. The walls are painted a charcoal grey, with scattered framed sketches and flash art displayed like gallery pieces. A small desk against the back wall is cluttered with ink bottles, gloves, stencils, and scribbled notes on napkins. There’s a chair in the center—sleek black leather, mechanical levers gleaming faintly under the spotlight aimed above it. It's positioned deliberately beneath a halo of warm light, like a stage for sin.
Han gestures for you to sit.
You do, heart already hammering harder than you'd like to admit. Your hands grip the armrests automatically, more out of nerves than necessity.
He sanitizes his hands in silence, then slips on a pair of black nitrile gloves with practiced ease. The snap of the first one makes you flinch. He notices.
A flick of his mouth—half amusement, half something darker.
“So. You still sure about it?” he asks, voice calm but low, like smoke over velvet.
You nod, holding out the reference image you brought—a small, simple design. Meaningful. Something you’ve thought about for months. A delicate poppy, petals slightly unfurled…But at the base of the flower, instead of a regular stem, it grows from the open mouth of a tiny anatomical heart.
Han doesn’t look at the paper right away. His eyes stay on you for just a moment longer than they should. Then he takes it gently, fingers brushing yours through the gloves.
“Pretty,” he murmurs, gaze flicking from the paper to your face. “Subtle. Clean lines… this’ll look good on you.”
You try to smile, but your throat feels tight. “Thanks.”
“Where do you want it?”
You hesitate. Then, softly: “Ribcage.”
That earns you an arched brow and the barest flicker of a smirk.
“Shy spot. I like that,” he says, turning to prep his materials. You watch the muscles shift as he reaches for a stencil pad. “Okay, shirt off. Just what you need, nothing more. I won’t bite.”
You freeze.
He pauses for a beat. Then tilts his head, eyes crinkling slightly. “Unless you beg,” he adds with a wink.
Your cheeks go hot. You laugh—nervously. It feels like your skin is already burning.
You carefully lift your shirt just high enough to expose the side of your torso, tugging the fabric over your bra, folding it under your arm to keep it out of the way. You're acutely aware of how much skin you're showing—even more so under that bright, direct light.
He kneels beside you with the stencil, gaze focused. You expect him to avoid eye contact, to be clinical—but Han is anything but.
His fingers brush your waist, and they stay there, warm through the gloves. His hand spreads slightly, holding your skin steady as he gently presses the cool stencil to your ribs.
“Breathe for me, yeah?” he murmurs, glancing up at you with a crooked smile. “I’m gonna press it right here…”
You suck in a breath, chest rising.
He places the stencil deliberately. Slowly. His face is close—close enough that you can see the curve of his lashes, the faint sheen of gloss on his lip ring. You smell cedar and musk on his hoodie. His fingers flex slightly against your side.
He looks up.
“You’re already twitchy,” he says softly, voice dropping just enough to make you forget how to breathe. “Gonna be a fun ride.”
You don’t know if he means the tattoo. And neither does he.
He stands and moves to the table beside him, switching out tools like it’s second nature. The machine buzzes to life with a sharp mechanical hum.
You tense.
He catches it immediately.
“First pinch might sting,” he says, voice suddenly gentle, almost coaxing. “I’ll talk you through it. You’re good.”
You nod again, trying not to clench your fists.
Then his hand is back on your body.
He anchors you with one palm spread wide over your side, right above your hip. It’s not forceful, but there’s weight to it. A possessive steadiness. The leather chair creaks faintly under the shift of your body.
And then the needle touches. A sharp, sudden sting. You wince.
“Breathe. Just like that. You’re doing so well, pretty,” he says, voice a constant hum in your ear. “Your skin takes ink like a dream. Fuck, this is gonna look good.”
You exhale through your nose, trying to focus on the sound of his voice instead of the burn.
It helps. But not in the way it should. Because Han doesn’t shut up. Not once.
“Don’t squirm too much… unless you want me to slip.”
“You’re soft here. So fucking soft.”
“Bet you’re the type who likes being teased, huh?”
You let out a choked laugh, more from panic than humor. He grins, eyes glinting.
The buzz of the machine, the heat of his palm on your skin, the constant commentary—it all blends into a haze. You’re dripping adrenaline and something else entirely. You feel like you’ve been stripped down far deeper than your shirt allows.
After what feels like both a lifetime and a blink, the needle slows. He lifts it. “Almost done. You’ve been such a good girl for me.”
The words land like a slap and a stroke at once.
He sets the machine aside, reaching for a fresh cloth. He wipes your skin slowly. Not rough. Not rushed. Every pass of his hand is careful, gentle.
You’re trembling now. Just a little.
He leans back finally and exhales. The air feels different. Like it’s shifted again—thicker.
“There,” he says. “Wanna see?”
You nod, throat dry.
He helps you up—guides you to a mirror near the corner. His hand stays on your back.
You look. And for a second, you forget how to breathe again. The tattoo is perfect. Clean, delicate, exactly how you pictured it. But it’s not just the ink that makes your chest ache—it’s the fact that it’s his. His hands made this. His touch. His art. On your skin.
“My work’s on you now,” he murmurs behind you, voice low and close. “You’re not gonna forget me, are you?”
You shake your head. You couldn’t if you tried.
The moment you slide your shirt back down, your skin feels… different. Not just because it's slightly tender from the ink, but because his touch still lingers. Like heat soaked into your bones. Like a fingerprint on your soul. You shouldn’t be this affected—he’s just your tattoo artist. Right?
You sit there for a moment longer than necessary, blinking as he finishes cleaning his station. His gloves come off with a snap, and he tosses them into the bin. You glance up, and—yep—he’s watching you.
Leaning casually against the counter, arms crossed, hair a little mussed, rings catching the light. Smug as hell.
“You survived,” he says, voice bright with that chaos-riddled lilt again. “Didn’t cry. Didn’t puke. I’m impressed.”
You roll your eyes. “High praise.”
“I’ve had grown men pass out from rib pieces,” he shrugs. “One guy farted. Loud. Mid-linework. I almost dropped the machine.”
You snort despite yourself. “Well, thanks for not comparing me to the Fart Guy until the end.”
He grins, wide and gleaming. “No, no, you’re top-tier,” he says, stepping closer to grab your care sheet. “Didn’t even whimper. Except for that one part where your breath hitched and I thought—y’know, for a second—you might come on the chair.”
You nearly choke. “Excuse me?!”
“Kidding,” he sing-songs. “Unless…?”
Your glare is ruined by the flush racing up your neck. You stand and grab your bag in a hurry, trying to save face. “You’re awful.”
“I’m delightful.”
He leads you back toward the front desk, swaying just slightly with each step, like he’s got too much energy stored in those shoulders. You swear he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet. It’s giving feral golden retriever with a tattoo gun and a praise kink.
You hand over your card while avoiding eye contact.
He hums dramatically as he takes it, flipping it over like he’s studying an ancient rune.
“You sure you don’t wanna tip in other ways?” he says, deadpan.
Your jaw drops.
He grins, swipes your card, and taps it dramatically against the reader before handing it back. “Joking, obviously. Unless that wasn't a ‘no,’ in which case, I’m free next week—Tuesday, after 7?”
You grab the receipt from the printer and scowl at him. “You flirt with all your clients like this?”
“Only the pretty ones who shake when I touch their ribs.”
You stare.
He smiles wider.
“Okay, okay—last line, I swear,” he chuckles. Then, softer: “Hey. Can I get your number?”
The way he asks it—it’s not sleazy. It’s bold, sure. But there’s this undercurrent of actual interest, like he’s asking for something more than just your digits.
You blink. “Why?”
“‘Cause I want it?” he says, grinning. “Also, in case your tattoo needs a touch-up. Or emotional support. Or if you just feel like sending me hot selfies. It’s a multi-purpose thing.”
You hesitate. Your pulse says yes before your mouth does. He notices. He always notices. You hand him your phone, and he immediately types his own number in, labelling it:
HAN “WILL NOT SHUT UP” JISUNG 🖤
He sends himself a text from your phone, winks, then gives it back. “Now we’re connected,” he says “Digitally. Spiritually. Carnally—well, not yet.”
You open your mouth to sass him. “You were so close to being cool,” you say.
“Close is my middle name.”
You snort and shake your head as you step toward the door. “Bye, Han.”
“See you soon, angel.”
You’re out the door.
The texting started immediately. Like, within minutes of you leaving the shop.
What began as tattoo care check-ins (“don’t scratch it or I’ll spank you—unless?”) turned into daily chaos. Then nightly chaos. Then a full-blown flirtationship spiralling out of control.
Han texts like he lives inside your brain—firing off filthy one-liners between jokes that make you wheeze-laugh at 1AM, switching between “you’re my filthy little secret” and “pls tell me I’m cute or I’ll cry.”
You finally cave after he begs you to get ramen at 9PM “as friends who have sexual tension.”
You show up. He’s already sitting cross-legged in the booth, hoodie sleeves rolled up, lip ring glinting, chopsticks twirling in one hand like he’s about to duel someone.
He greets you with: “You look edible. I meant that in a respectful way. Mostly.”
You try to play it cool. He doesn’t let you.
The whole night is full of dumb jokes, spicy noodles, and under-the-table foot nudging that turns into ankle grazing that turns into—
“You keep that up, baby,” he murmurs across the table, “and I’m gonna drag you to the bathroom and remind you what these fingers can do.”
You nearly choke on your drink. He laughs, head tilted back, so proud of himself.
You leave flustered. He kisses your cheek in the parking lot. Just your cheek. But his hand lingers at your waist. His mouth is right next to your ear.
“Call me when you can’t sleep,” he says, low. “I’ll make sure you get tired again.”
You almost trip on the curb.
The calls eventually started and slowly became routine. Especially those 1AM phone calls, they were like clockwork. You, in bed, breath heavy as his voice would melt through the speaker.
“You touching yourself yet?”
“You want me to talk you through it?”
“Want me to tell you what I’d do if I had you on my lap right now?”
He moans in your ear when you do what he says.
Filthy. Unfiltered. And when it’s over—when you’re breathless and ruined—he says the softest things:
“Wish I was there to hold you.”
“You’re so fucking hot, but you’re also cute and funny and it’s unfair.”
“You still like me, right?”
It’s not just lust anymore. It's want. Sticky, addictive, confusing want.
It started with a text.
Just one. Sent on a whim while lying in bed late at night, staring at the first tattoo he gave you—delicate black lines peeking from beneath your shirt, still soft to the touch even weeks later.
[You, 11:23PM]
thinking about getting another one
You didn’t expect a fast reply. But Jisung’s name lit up your phone in under two minutes.
[HAN “WILL NOT SHUT UP” 🖤, 11:24PM]
oh?? 👀
where
when
how much skin we talking
is it just an excuse to see me again
(pls say yes)
You rolled your eyes. Typed back:
[You]
hipbone
small script
and maybe
what if it was both
His reply came in a blink:
[HAN “WILL NOT SHUT UP” 🖤]
come by the shop this friday
after hours
no distractions
just me. you. ink.
doors locked. lights low.
…for professionalism, obviously 🙃
You stared at the screen for a long time before replying.
And then:
[You]
see you friday.
Friday. 9:04PM.
Seoul’s city pulse is just starting to dim when you push open the door to NO SAINT INK for the second time.
The bell doesn’t ring. He told you it wouldn’t.
The neon signs are still lit—SINNER’S HANDS flickering a slow blood-red glow in the window—but the rest of the shop feels different. Empty. Still. Like something waiting to be touched.
The lights are dimmed. Only one small lamp buzzes near the back, casting long shadows across the matte-black walls.
Your steps echo a little as you walk inside. Then—
“Back here, pretty.”
His voice, low and smooth, floats from behind a curtain in the far booth.
You follow it. Pull the curtain aside. And there he is.
He’s already set up.
Tattoo machine prepped, gloves laid out neatly beside his sketch pad. He’s wearing an oversized black tee tucked loosely into ripped jeans, sleeves rolled just enough to show off the ink that curls around his biceps like living things.
He doesn’t look at you at first.
He’s focused on the script you’d sent him earlier—your design. A small phrase, handwritten in your own messy scrawl: “still hungry.”
When he finally glances up, it hits you like the first time all over again.
The way his lip curls. The way his eyes bite first and ask questions later. “Look at you,” he murmurs, voice dipped in something dark and fond. “Back for more.”
You lean against the booth’s edge, heartbeat already in your throat. “You said professionalism, remember?”
He stands slowly. Walks toward you. You can feel the heat radiating off him in waves.
“I lied.”
A beat. Then—
“Where’s it going again?”
You lift the hem of your hoodie just a little. Hook your thumb beneath your waistband and tug it down, just far enough to expose the sharp curve of your hipbone.
His gaze drops.
Stays.
He doesn’t speak for a moment too long. Just stares—like he’s trying to memorize you before he ruins you. “That’s dangerous, you know,” he says softly. “Letting me touch you there.”
You try to swallow. Fail. “You’re the one who said no distractions.”
He smiles. “You’re the fucking distraction.”
He gloves up without another word.
You lie back on the chair, heart slamming in your chest, every inch of skin suddenly too hot.
You’re not sure what you expected. Something casual? Familiar? But the moment his gloved hand touches your bare hip—steadying you, fingers spread firm and warm—the entire world narrows to him.
“Breathe for me,” he murmurs, positioning the stencil. “Just like last time. You remember how good you were for me?”
You exhale shakily.
“You gonna behave again tonight, pretty thing?”
You whisper: “Maybe.”
He leans in. His mouth is close to your skin. His voice—barely a breath. “God, I hope not.” He’s still positioning the stencil.
And you? You're laid back on the chair, hoodie bunched beneath your ribs, waistband tugged low, every nerve ending on alert. The soft lamplight paints shadows across his jaw as he kneels between your legs, eyes focused.
And then—
“You know,” he says lightly, pressing the stencil into place, “I’ve seen a lot of hipbones. But this one might be my favourite.”
You snort. “Wow. So original.”
He grins without looking up. “What, you don’t believe me?”
“I’m sure you say that to all your clients.”
“Only the ones who sext me about popsicles and then block me for ten minutes.”
You go still. He finally glances up. Smirks. “Yeah. Thought I forgot about that?”
You mutter, “I hate you.”
“You love me,” he says immediately, like it’s a fact. “You want me to ruin your life. Slowly. Lovingly. With tattoos and aftercare.”
You cover your face. “Shut up.”
He laughs—a low, breathy sound. Then, softly: “I’m starting the line now. Hold still, baby.”
The machine whirs to life.
It’s quieter than you remember. Or maybe you’re just more aware—of everything. The way his gloved hand steadies your hip, thumb dragging along the edge of your waistband. The needle’s sharp kiss. The buzz settling into your bones.
And Han’s voice. God, he never stops talking.
“This spot’s sensitive,” he says, totally casual. “Most people squirm. But I like that.”
You tense. He notices. Of course he does.
“Relax,” he murmurs, dragging the line smooth. “You’re doing perfect.”
Another pause. Then—
“Don’t suppose you’re into pain, are you?”
You don’t answer. You don’t have to. He chuckles under his breath. “God, you so are.”
But then, just like that—his tone shifts. He quiets. Focuses. And the teasing melts into something heavier. “Almost done,” he says, more softly this time. “You’ve been so good for me again. Always are.”
You blink. Your heart skips.
He wipes your skin again, slow and reverent, then leans back to look. He’s still crouched between your thighs, eyes focused, lips parted slightly as he takes it in.
“Fuck.”
You blink. “What?”
He looks up at you. No grin now. Just quiet, open admiration. “It’s gorgeous,” he says. “Like… stupid good.” He presses a kiss to his gloved fingertips and taps them against your skin.
“Still hungry,” he reads aloud. “God, I could write essays on that.”
You roll your eyes, but you’re flushed. Breath shallow. Because now that the needle’s done…
He’s not moving. His hand stays on your waist. His eyes flick to your lips. Then back down. Then—
“You want me to touch you?”
The question lands like a live wire in the room. But he doesn’t push. Doesn’t smirk. He just waits. Like he’s offering something sacred. Like he’d back off the second you said no. But you don’t. You can’t.
You nod. Barely.
His fingers tighten on your skin. “Nah,” he murmurs. “Say it. I want to hear it.”
You swallow.
“…Yes.”
“Yes what, baby?”
Your brain short-circuits.
“Jisung—”
“Use your words, pretty thing. Or I’ll stop before I start.”
You suck in a breath, eyes locking with his. “I want you to touch me.”
He moves instantly.
The gloves are still on when he presses his palm flat against your hipbone, fingers spreading possessively. His hand feels huge there—like it was made for this exact spot.
“Fuck. Been thinking about this since the first time you came in,” he mutters, voice dropping into something rough, reverent. “You looked so fucking good in that chair. All nervous and squirmy.”
He bends down.
Kisses the edge of your new tattoo, so soft it almost hurts. “My name’s not even on you,” he whispers, “and I’m still acting like you’re mine.”
Your stomach flips. You whimper.
And he grins, but it’s different now—hungry, not cocky. “Take your pants off.”
You blink.
He meets your eyes. “Let me take care of you.”
You obey—slow, breathless, trembling under his gaze. You slide them down and toss them aside. He leans in again, eyes tracing over the new ink and everything below it, slow and starving.
You’re not wearing much underneath, lacy pink panties, with a very obvious wet spot on your center.
He groans softly. “You’re already wet.”
You gasp when his fingers brush over you, lazy, like he has all the time in the world. “All this from a little needle?” he teases. “Or is it the artist?”
“Fuck you,” you breathe.
He laughs. One low, wicked exhale. “Oh, you will. But not yet.”
He leans back, peels his gloves off slowly—dragging each finger loose one by one, like he’s unwrapping a gift. Tosses them into the bin without taking his eyes off you once.
Then he lowers himself between your legs.
Spreads your thighs just a little further apart with both hands.
You hear him exhale.
“Fuck. This is gonna kill me.”
He doesn’t touch you yet. Just leans in.
And presses a kiss right above your knee. Then the inside of your thigh. Then a little higher. And a little higher.
Your breath hitches when his lips ghost just beside the fabric.
“Soaked through lace,” he murmurs. “That’s so fucking pretty, baby.”
You’re shaking now.
He mouths over the wet spot—not even pulling them down yet. Just letting the heat of his breath and the drag of his lips torture you. You feel the scrape of his lip ring as he kisses you again, open-mouthed, right there.
“Bet you’d cum just from this,” he whispers. “My mouth through your panties. Barely even trying.”
You whimper. One hand fisting the edge of the chair.
His fingers slide over the wet spot next, slow and teasing. Two fingers rub a lazy circle, barely pressing—just enough to make your hips twitch. “I should leave these on,” he says, almost to himself. “Just push them to the side. Make you beg for it.”
You breathe, “Jisung—please—”
That does it.
He hooks his fingers under the waistband and drags them down—slow, deliberate, watching every inch of you get exposed.
He groans loudly the second you’re bare. “Holy fuck.”
Then he’s leaning in again, this time nothing between you. He kisses your inner thigh first. Then lower.
Then—
His tongue drags one long, obscene stripe up your center. You cry out, hips bucking—he presses a hand to your stomach, holding you still with an effortless command:
“Stay fucking still.”
Then he goes back in. He licks you like he means it—messy, slow, then fast and deep. His tongue circles your clit with practiced chaos. He moans against you, loud, like you taste like something sacred.
“You taste like fucking heaven,” he groans, voice muffled.
His hands spread you wider, his tongue dipping into your heat, nose pressed right up against your skin.
Then he sucks. Hard.
Your head falls back—gone.
“That’s it,” he purrs. “My perfect little slut. Look at you.”
Your hands tangle in his hair. You tug. He groans again and ruts into the fucking air, desperate for friction while he eats you out like he’s starving.
“You gonna cum on my mouth?” he growls, voice wrecked. “You want me to keep going or make you beg for it?”
You try to answer—can’t.
He pulls back for just a moment, lips and chin shining. “Use your words, baby. You know the rules.”
“Please—fuck—don’t stop, please—Jisung—”
“God,” he groans. “Keep saying my name like that and I’m gonna cum in my fucking jeans.”
Then he dives back in, faster now, tongue fucking into you, hand moving to circle your clit with soaked fingers while he sucks and moans like you’re his last goddamn meal. He’s everywhere—his mouth, his hand, the filthy hum of his moans vibrating straight through your core. He doesn’t pause to tease, doesn’t stop to talk this time. He’s all action now. Starved. Feral.
“Fuck,” he growls between licks, the words hot and wet against your folds. “You taste so fucking good. Gonna make me lose my mind.”
His tongue pushes in again. He flicks it fast, then slow, then sucks at your clit with a deep, wet moan that makes you cry out, back arching clean off the chair.
“There you go,” he pants, not even breaking rhythm. “Just like that. Give it to me, baby. Come on.” His voice is breathless, desperate—like he’s the one about to cum.
You’re shaking. Legs trembling. It’s too much. It’s not enough.
Your hands are clutching his hair, holding him right where you need him, and he just groans louder, grinding his face deeper like he wants to live between your legs. His lip ring catches against your clit—again, and again—and your thighs clamp around his head instinctively.
He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even flinch.
He just moans into you, hands gripping your hips tighter, holding you down as your whole body starts to unravel. You feel it in your spine. In your toes. In the fucking air.
“You close, pretty thing?” he slurs against your clit. “Yeah, you are. You’re fucking dripping—making a mess for me. So fucking perfect. All mine.”
That breaks you.
You cum harder than you ever have in your life—with a sob, a gasp, a full-body spasm that crashes over you like a goddamn tsunami.
You hear yourself. You scream his name.
Jisung.
Jisung.
Jisung.
And he takes it.
He drinks it down like a man possessed, moaning into you like you’re water in the desert, like he’s been waiting his whole life to taste you fall apart. He doesn’t even stop when you cum—he licks you through it, tongue softening only slightly as your body twitches and bucks and pleads for mercy.
It’s too much. It’s so good it hurts.
“J-Jisung—fuck—wait—too much—”
Only then does he pull back, chest heaving, face absolutely wrecked. His mouth, his chin, even the tip of his nose glistens with you. He looks dazed.
Blessed.
He runs a hand down his face and just stares at you—spread out, soaked, shaking, glowing.
Then: “Holy fuck.”
You blink up at him, still gasping, brain static.
He grins—wide, flushed, proud as hell. “I knew it. I fucking knew it. Best pussy of my life.” You try to sass him. You really do. But all that comes out is a whimper.
“Aw,” he coos, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Dumbed you out already?”
He brushes your hair back, kisses your forehead. “You okay?”
You nod. Barely.
“You want more?”
You nod. Desperately.
He chuckles, voice thick with affection and wrecked restraint. “Yeah, baby. Me too.” Then he stands up, undoing his belt with shaking hands, and murmurs: “Get comfy. ’Cause I’m gonna fuck you so good, you forget your own name.”
You’re still gasping. Still trembling. But your eyes follow the movement of his hands—shaking slightly as he undoes his belt, then the button, then the zipper.
He pushes his jeans down—
And your breath catches. You knew he’d be pretty. But not like this. Not this.
Thick. Flushed. Slight curve to the left.
And not just the look of it—the feel of it, even before he’s inside. You know instinctively it’s going to destroy you. That kind of snug fit that presses into all the right places and leaves no room for secrets.
He strokes himself once, slow and slick, precum already leaking from the tip. “Gonna be good for me, baby?” he asks, voice shaking as he fists his cock. “Let me feel that perfect pussy now?”
You nod. Dumb. Ready. So wet you feel it drip onto the chair beneath you.
He lines up—rubs the head of his cock over your folds, up and down, teasing your clit before circling your entrance. You’re still sensitive. Still twitching. And he feels it. “Still throbbing for me,” he murmurs. “God, you’re unreal.”
He pushes in. Slow. Deep. Too much. Too good.
You cry out—your body arching, your hands gripping the armrest and his forearm and anything you can reach.
Because he fits. Perfectly. Thick enough to make you stretch wide, gasp, feel it in your lungs. But not enough to hurt. No—just enough to ruin you.
“F-fuck,” he groans, head falling forward. “You’re squeezing me so tight—Jesus—don’t move yet, I’ll cum too fast—” He bottoms out, hips flush to yours. He stays there for a second. Still trembling. His cock twitches inside you.
“I’m gonna die,” he whispers. “I’m gonna die in this pussy.”
You laugh—a breathless, broken thing—and he grins like he’s proud.
Then? He pulls out halfway. And slams back in. Hard. And again. And again. Fast. Unhinged. Like he’s been waiting to do this for weeks. “Oh fuck, that’s it. That’s it, baby—keep takin’ it—so fucking perfect—”
He’s rambling now. Whimpering.
Each thrust hits so deep you swear you see stars. It’s a rhythm that shouldn’t exist, shouldn’t be real. Every stroke dragging against your g-spot, every snap of his hips making your thighs quake.
And he’s talking. So much.
“You feel that? Huh? You feel how good you make me?”
“You’re all mine. This pussy? Fucking mine. Say it.”
“Say it, baby, c’mon—tell me who it belongs to—”
You choke out, “You—it’s yours, Jisung—fuck, you’re so deep—”
He moans—wrecked. “God, I’m not gonna last—fuck—you’re too good—you’re too fucking good—” Then he bends down—mouth at your ear, hips still pounding into you like he’s trying to brand your soul.
“One more,” he whispers. “Just one more, yeah? Be my good girl and cum for me again—come on—cum on my cock—let me feel you—”
You barely get the chance to nod. Because then—he changes rhythm.
Not slower. Not gentler. Worse. He fucks you harder. Deeper. Like his body knows exactly how to hit every nerve inside you. Like he’s memorized your walls. And maybe he has. Maybe from the moment he first touched you in that chair, his entire brain rewired for this—for you.
“So fucking tight,” he pants, voice cracked open, almost panicked. “Shit—look at how you take me—look at that, fuck—”
He’s holding your waist again, but carefully—just above the fresh tattoo. His fingers dig into your ribs, grip locked in, not letting you squirm away as he slams into you, pace frantic, unrelenting.
“Can’t touch your hips,” he growls, “so I’m gonna hold you right here—just like this—until you fall apart again.”
Then his hand slides down. Finds your clit. And rubs. Fast. Tight.
You moan loud.
“Tell me what it feels like,” he pants, eyes locked on your face, wild. “Come on, baby—talk to me. You know the rules.”
You try. You try so hard.
“It’s—fuck—Jisung—it’s too much—I-I can’t—”
His hand doesn’t stop. His cock drives up into you like it’s chasing your orgasm, like he can feel it coming and he wants to drag it out of you with his bare hands. “Yes, you can. You’re my good girl, right? My perfect fucking baby—tell me what you feel.”
You sob. “It’s everywhere—it’s so deep—I feel you in my stomach, Jisung—”
That makes him moan—full, wrecked, helpless. “Yeah? That’s it, baby. You feel me stretching you out? You feel how hard you’re clenching around me?”
He’s unhinged. Fucking you like he needs to feel you cum on his cock. Like it’s his only goddamn mission in life.
“Don’t hold back. Let me have it. Show me how good I make you feel.” His fingers tighten, rub faster. His cock keeps slamming up into that perfect, perfect spot.
And you break.
You fall apart on him with a cry that splits the air—your orgasm ripping through you like a detonation, a white-hot snap that makes your whole body lock up and tremble.
You cum hard. Harder than before. Harder than ever.
And he feels it. Feels you clench around him like a vice, walls pulsing, soaked, squeezing every last bit of him until he’s gasping into your throat. “Fuck—fuck—I’m gonna—baby—I’m—”
He slams in once, twice more—then stills. Buried deep. Groaning so loud it echoes. And cums. Hot. Fast. Deep. He fills you up with a desperate, whimpering exhale—head falling into the crook of your neck, fingers flexing tight on your waist as he rides it out, hips twitching helplessly inside you.
“Jesus—holy fuck—how are you real—”
You don’t know what you say. You don’t know if you’re breathing. All you know is he doesn’t let go. Not even after. His arms wrap around you, one hand sliding up to your ribs, the other cupping your jaw gently as he leans in and kisses your forehead.
Sweet. Messy. Possessive.
“I’m so fucking in love with your pussy.” he mumbles against your skin.
You laugh—wrecked and breathless. “You just came in me.”
“I did. I’ll take responsibility.”
“You didn’t even mean to.”
“That’s what makes it romantic.”
But then he goes quiet. Both of you do. Still joined. Still pulsing.
The only sound in the room is your breathing—shaky, shallow, shared.
Han’s body is draped over yours, his skin hot and sticky, his face buried in your neck like he might actually die if he moves. He’s not even thrusting anymore—just lying there, full-on koala mode, arms around your waist, cock still twitching inside you like it doesn’t know it's over.
“I think I saw God,” he whispers.
You blink, still boneless and floating.
“Pretty sure she winked at me and said ‘Good job, Jisung.’”
You snort into the crumpled pillow beneath you. “Was she hot?”
He lifts his head just enough to deadpan: “She looked like you.”
A pause.
“Except taller. And clothed. And not full of cum.”
You let out a noise that’s half wheeze, half scream, face flushing as you try to twist away—but he tightens his grip, groaning as his still half-hard cock shifts inside you.
“Nooo, don’t move,” he whines. “You’ll make me hard again and I’ll die. You’re too powerful.”
You roll your eyes. “You just came in me, and now you’re being dramatic?”
He lifts his face, eyes wide. “I’m always dramatic. But now I’m dramatic and post-nut mushy.”
You smack his arm—lightly. He grins and kisses your shoulder like he’s never been happier in his life.
Then, suddenly gentle: “You okay? Need anything?”
You hum. “Water. A towel. A new pelvis.”
“I can offer you one of those things.”
He pulls out slowly, careful. You both wince a little, and he immediately fumbles for the nearest clean towel, muttering, “Shit, sorry, sorry—damn, we really did that, huh?”
He cleans you up softly, thoroughly. Tongue poking out in concentration, hands warm and reverent. You watch him in the dim light—his flushed cheeks, mussed-up curls, that stupid satisfied look on his face like he just won the lottery and the trophy was you.
He helps you sit up, eyes wide looking you over as if wanting to make sure you are okay and not just saying you're okay.
You smile at him, dazed. “That was insane.”
“You’re welcome.”
Then, quieter: “I really like you, by the way.”
You glance at him. He’s suddenly shy—voice small, fingers playing with the hem of the towel. “I mean—I know this was hot and wild and unholy, but like. You’re not just hot and wild and unholy. You’re…”
He scratches the back of his head. “Cool. Funny. Gorgeous. Smart. And you have great pain tolerance and taste in art and—I dunno—your moans live in my soul now.”
You blink at him. He shrugs. “I just think you’re neat.”
You laugh. You can’t help it. You lean in, kiss him soft. He melts instantly.
Twenty minutes later, you’re both curled on the couch in the back lounge. Your legs are over his lap. You’re sipping water. He’s holding your hand and doodling hearts on your thigh with a sharpie.
“So,” he says, yawning. “When do you want your third tattoo?”
You give him a look. “Planning ahead?”
He smirks, smug. “Just making sure I get to fuck you again.”
You flick his forehead.
“Ow—okay, okay. For art. Not for horny.”
But you both know the truth. You’re absolutely getting another tattoo. And this man is going to absolutely ruin you again. With love. And dick. And filthy words. And then cuddle you like a little spoon with separation anxiety.
So the answer? Yeah. Yeah you will be seeing more of him. More dates. More dick. More tattoos. Guess it's fate.
EPISODE 1: HELP! MY HOT GIRLFRIEND CAUGHT ME CRYING AFTER GIVING HEAD! (NOT CLICKBAIT)
this is smut, do not interact if under 18
jisung thought tutoring the hottest girl on campus would ruin his GPA— not his pants. one month later, he’s somehow getting called ‘pretty’ mid-thrust and offering you pocky as a post-orgasm snack.
pairing: nerd!han jisung x popular!f!reader, established relationship genre/tags: college au, smut, fluff, jisung is a loser with a capital L, humor sprinkled in bc i’m unserious asf, lots of references to anime and other dumb stuff, lowkey perv!jisung, dry humping, oral (f. receiving), piv, protected s*x, kinda subby!jisung but he’s still a whore lol words: 5.4k (wasn’t expecting it to be this long… guess i yap too much)
[ note. ] — i had to make another nerd!ji fic bc i literally cannot stop thinking about him 😣 feel free to read my other fic for more context since it’s set in the same universe but i wanted to make a smut ver so here we areeee <33 also, i will be making more parts eventually, hence why it’s labeled as ‘episode 1’ so stay tuned for more !
Jisung thought for sure that was going to die a virgin. Not in a sad, self-loathing kind of way, but more in a “yeah, that checks out,” kind of way. The type of peaceful resignation one might have while unplugging a broken router for the eighth time before crying into a bowl of instant ramen. Because guys like him— guys who quoted Dragon Ball Z unironically, who panicked when girls sat next to them in lecture halls, who built custom keyboards for fun and screamed at League. They didn’t date girls like you.
And they most definitely didn’t sleep with girls like you.
Still, that didn’t keep him from fantasizing. Constantly, shamelessly, unhingedly.
He’d never known what it felt like to have warm walls wrapped around his cock. Never heard those broken whines girls in hentai would make— unless he counted the ones he accidentally let out when he edged himself too long. His hand was simply never enough, no matter how many times he convinced himself he could “recreate the pressure.”
The bottle of lotion and box of tissues on his nightstand weren’t even hidden anymore— they sat like holy relics beside his gaming PC, ready for immediate access the second he closed League and opened incognito mode.
Porn never fully satisfied his craving though, he always wanted more. Even the best JAV compilation or doujinshi fan dub couldn’t compare to the real sickness consuming his brain: you.
You, with the glossy Instagram that he scrolled through like it was the damn Louvre. You, wearing micro bikinis in pool selfies with captions like ‘hot girl summer’ while he rots in bed, sweating and crying at the curvature of your ass.
You, biting your glittery, gel pen in class, leaning across the desk to ask for help, accidentally flashing a glimpse of cleavage so dangerous it made him pause mid-equation like he got hit with a stun grenade. Stalking your Instagram, seeing you in the tiniest baby tees and mini skirts. It was the perfect gooner material.
He’d stroke himself under the covers while biting a t-shirt to keep quiet, muttering your name between gasps like he was summoning a spirit. Fantasies playing out in his head that ranged from soft and romantic— like kissing you breathless during office hours— to completely feral, like bending you over his anime pillow while you called him “pretty boy” and ruined his life.
It didn’t help that you flirted with him now.
That you asked him to tutor you.
That you sat so close during study sessions he could sense your perfume from a mile away and taste the salt from the fries you always stole off his plate.
You laughed at his jokes, called him cute, even once said he had “nice hands,” and he nearly evaporated on the spot. Had to excuse himself to the bathroom with a boner and a prayer.
Every night ended the same. Him, fisting his cock in pathetic desperation at the thought of your pussy swallowing him whole, whispering ‘please’ like a man on the verge of religious enlightenment.
And every night, after he came all over his own stomach, out of breath and guilt-ridden, he’d sigh dramatically and say,
“I’m going to die alone. I know it. I’ll be the guy with the Zero Two body pillow and the unopened condom pack from 2017 that he keeps in case of a miracle.”
He did not, under any circumstances, expect you to be that miracle.
Never in a million years did he think he’d actually have a chance, let alone be dating you. You were just too perfect. The literal girl of his dreams.
Popular. Gorgeous. Cool in the kind of way that made any and everyone want to be around you without knowing why. You had that magnetic charm about you, an easily contagious laugh, a confident stride when you walk, and that dangerous habit of licking your lip gloss mid-sentence like you were in a CW drama.
And yet, somehow, here he was, currently horizontal on his bed, shirtless, breathless, with you on top of him wearing his oversized Bleach t-shirt and not much else, grinning like you’d just won first place in a science fair and a dance battle.
“Are you glitching?” You asked, poking his cheek. “Do I need to unplug you and plug you back in?”
“I- uh- w-what? No- yes? No.” He stuttered like every word had just magically left his vocabulary, he was definitely malfunctioning.
You laughed, head dropping onto his bare chest as he laid stiff as a board, arms hovering midair like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you even now. Even after dating you for a whole month.
“A month,” he whispered, still stunned by the timeline. “That’s like… thirty days of you voluntarily being seen with me.”
“Thirty one,” you corrected, lifting your head to smirk down at him. “Don’t forget the bonus day where you kissed me in front of the vending machine and the entire basketball team clapped.”
“I thought I was going to throw up.”
“You looked like you did throw up.”
Jisung covered his face with both hands and groaned.
God, he still didn’t know how this happened. When you had asked him to tutor you in stats, he assumed you were just kidding— or high. But you weren’t. You’d actually shown up. You’d flirted, sat on his lap one time when all the seats were taken at the library, and then acted like it was no big deal while his soul left his body.
And now here you were. Straddling him. Teasing him. Literally wearing his t-shirt with the anime print on it and calling him “baby” in the kind of voice that should be illegal.
“You’re so tense, Sungie,” you murmur, lightly dragging your fingers down his chest. “I know you like it when I touch you. You make these cute little gasps like a baby bird.”
“I-I don’t sound like a baby bird,” he mumbled, absolutely sounding like a baby bird.
You leaned down, lips brushing the shell of his ear.
“Chirp.”
Jisung squeaked.
You lost it, giggling into his neck while he covered his blushy face with a pillow. “Oh my god, stopp- why are you like this- why did you choose me,”
“Because you’re smart, and sweet, and you get all flustered when I call you hot. And because,” you sat up again, hips rolling ever so slightly and watching his pupils blow wide as you rocked against his clothed erect, “you say things like ‘This is just like my fanfic’ under your breath and then deny it.”
He groaned at the sudden friction, arms falling limp at his sides. “You heard that?”
“Babe, I hear everything. Like right now, I can hear how bad you want me to ride you.” You bit your lip, feeling your wetness growing at a rapid pace as you continuously grind on him.
Jisung whimpered. “Okay. I- this is really happening, right? This isn’t like, some kind of VR dream or like a… cursed hentai plotline where I wake up and you’re actually a sentient toaster?”
You blinked. “What the hell kind of anime are you watching?”
He slapped a hand over his eyes. “Nevermind, pretend I didn’t say that..”
You kissed him then. Slowly. Tenderly. Like you had all the time in the world and like you couldn’t believe your luck either. Because yeah, you were the cool girl, but Jisung was the first guy who actually listened when you talked. Who remembered your favorite boba order. Who’d stayed up until 3 am tutoring you and still walked you to your dorm with sleepy, nerdy affection twinkling in his eyes.
So yeah, you were gonna roast him forever— but you were also gonna ruin him tonight.
“Hey, baby,” you whispered, reaching down to tug his sweatpants lower.
Jisung was in the midst of catching his breath like he’d just run a marathon. “Y-yeah?”
“After I make you cum, will you tell me all about the sentient toaster anime?”
“…Maybe.”
+
“Okay,” Jisung panted, curling into your side like a baby koala clinging to its mother, “that was better than every hentai I’ve ever seen.”
You snorted into his shoulder. “High praise coming from the man who owns a $300 body pillow.”
“She was limited edition!” He quickly defends himself.
You playfully roll your eyes, kissing his flushed cheek. “So are you, Sungie. So are you.”
And yeah, Jisung still thought he was going to die a virgin once upon a time.
But now, wrapped in your arms with kiss marks littering his neck and your laughter still echoing in his ears— he was just really, really glad that he’s been proven wrong.
+
The moment you straddled Jisung and kissed him again, something shifted in the room.
And not just him having an outer-body experience for the sixth time in an hour.
You pulled back from his lips to look around, and the first thing you said was, “Okay, I have to say it- your room is the most aggressively virgin-coded space I’ve ever been in.”
“I told you not to look too closely!” He whined, burying his face into your neck as you giggled and craned to inspect the chaos surrounding you.
“Let’s see…” you started ticking things off on your imaginary list. “Anime wall scrolls? Check. Neon RGB light strips that make your room look like a gaming dungeon? Check. Is that Hatsune Miku in a glass case next to middle school spelling bee trophies?”
He groaned. “They’re collector’s items—”
“You were runner-up in 8th grade and you framed it.”
“I peaked early, okay?!”
You laughed so hard you fell forward onto his chest. “I love you.”
He froze. “Wh-what?”
You blinked. “I said I love you.”
He looked like you’d just offered him a lifetime supply of ramen and also stabbed him in the heart.
“…I love you too,” he whispered, barely getting it out before he hid under the covers.
You tugged the blanket back down just enough to see his red face. “Hey. Don’t hide. I wanna see you. Look so pretty when you blush.”
“PRETTY?!” He yelped.
You nodded in confirmation, brushing hair off his forehead. “Mmhm. Prettiest boy I’ve ever seen. Especially like this- messy hair, pink cheeks, all breathless under me…”
He made the most broken noise you’d ever heard.
His hands gripped your hips like he didn’t know what to do with them, like he was trying not to crush you or himself with how desperate he felt. His eyes were dark now, glazed and locked onto your every move as you slowly ground against the bulge in his sweats.
“This is real, right?” He meant to ask that in his head but blurted it out instead, voice slightly cracking. “This is really happening?”
You kissed the corner of his mouth. “Feels pretty real to me, baby.”
At this point Jisung was spiraling.
Not just emotionally. No, that happened daily.
This was a full-system shutdown.
You’d tugged your shirt off without warning and smiled down at him like it was the most casual thing in the world, and now his hands were hovering awkwardly mid-air like he wasn’t sure if he had permission to touch you or if he was being Punk’d by the gods of horny delusion.
Your skin. Your smile. Your fucking tits.
And worse— worse— as your fingers brushed through his messy brown locks and your thighs shifted over his hips, his brain suddenly screamed,
‘I can’t believe I’m about to get pussy before Jeongin.’
Jeongin, his slightly cooler, slightly taller, still-a-virgin roommate who had three rotating Discord kittens and a suspicious amount of cologne but somehow still never scored.
Jeongin, who walked around shirtless after push-up sessions and said things like “it’s not rizz, it’s charisma” unironically. Jeongin, who once said “I want my first time to be passionate and respectful” but also accidentally downloaded a virus trying to pirate a hentai dating sim.
Jisung had always assumed if one of them was gonna make it out of virginhood first, it’d be the guy with the Uzumaki clan symbol tattooed on his ribs and a social life.
But no.
It was him. Han Jisung. The guy who owned a limited-edition anime titty mousepad and squeaked like a kettle when a girl touched his arm. And now? You were grinding up against him slowly, teasingly, and he was barely clinging to reality.
“Y/n,” he whimpered, clutching your waist like you’d float away. “Can I- can I eat you out? Pleasepleaseplease.”
You blinked rapidly.
“…You wanna—?”
“So bad,” he choked. “I think about it all the time. Like in class. And when I watch those ‘how to’ videos online. Like, the diagram ones, not the porn ones, though I watched those too- but like educationally! For science!”
You stared blankly.
He was sweating.
“Okay,” you said softly, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “You’re really cute when you beg, y’know that?”
He nearly ascended.
You barely had time to giggle before he flipped you gently onto your back, hair falling into his eyes as he ducked down between your thighs like a man on a mission from God. His hands trembled as he slid your shorts down, breath hitching at the sight of your soaked panties.
“Oh my god,” he breathed out. “It’s real.”
You snorted. “What were you expecting? A hologram?”
“I don’t know!” He cried. “I was starting to believe you were some kind of high-level succubus sent to punish virgins.”
You cupped his flushed face. “Wouldn’t be the worst punishment.”
And then he locks in— eyes meeting yours as he sticks his tongue out, licking a long, fat stripe across your clothed slit. Soft. Slow. As if he was trying to memorize you with his tongue, the heat of it makes you jolt. He’s not just tasting you— he’s learning you, tracing intricate patterns with his tongue like he’s trying to decode you one flick at a time. Every motion is precise yet hungry, like he’s writing a love letter in Morse code directly to your pussy. His glasses slipping adorably down the bridge of his nose, solely focused on pleasing you.
You gasped at the feel of him against you, the pressure of his mouth sent heat curling low in your belly, it was torture. Too much and not enough. You needed to feel him without the barrier of soaked lace clinging to your folds, and he must’ve read your mind, because he groaned like he was the one being denied. He kissed your pussy like he was thanking it, mouthing over your clothed core before dragging open-mouthed kisses across your inner thighs, leaving your skin slick with spit and bites to your inner thighs. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, everything about him felt so warm.
His teeth grazed you— playful, hungry— and your hips twitched as he whispered something nasty under his breath, half to himself, half to your cunt. By the time he slid your panties down, your thighs were trembling, tossing the flimsy fabric aside carelessly, like he didn’t care where they landed, only that they were gone. Then he buried his face between your legs like you’d been starving him for his entire life.
His tongue slipped between your folds, hot and greedy, lapping up everything you gave him like it was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. He flicked up and down with obscene precision, wet, messy, relentless— his nose bumping your clit as he moaned deep in his throat, like he needed this, like the taste of you could make or break him. You were soaked, legs shaking, lips parted in a silent cry, and all he did was keep eating like he was trying to crawl inside you with his tongue.
You were loving the way it feels, every bit of you being hit with electricity. Your fingers tangled in his hair the second his mouth met your pussy, gripping tight, yanking just enough to make him groan into you like he was grateful for the pain. He never slowed down. If anything, it made him hungrier, tongue flattening against your slit before flicking up again, sloppy and fast and fucking filthy.
“God- fuck, you’re so messy,” you gasped, thighs twitching around his head. “You like that? Being my dirty little mouth toy?”
He moaned. Moaned. Into your pussy.
Nodding obediently, even as you tugged harder, grinding him closer. His glasses were long gone, hair disheveled, chin dripping with spit and slick as he slurred out something unintelligible against your clit. His tongue working overtime like he was trying to spell your name in cursive with every flick.
“Holy shit,” he mumbled, words caught in his throat. “I could live here.”
You threw your head back with a laugh— and then a sharp gasp as he got bolder, messier, more desperate. His hands kept you spread, his tongue curling and licking and worshipping like this was the only chance he’d ever get. He was sure that he’d jizz his pants just from giving you head— sure it’s pathetic, maybe even tragic. But he couldn’t help it. You were just too hot, too perfect, too fucking unreal, and the taste of you on his tongue, the feel of your thighs squeezing around his head, it was better than anything his fist or filthy imagination had ever given him.
Your fingers remain tangled in his hair, holding onto him for anchorage. He looked up at you with glassy, pleading eyes, the lower half of his face glistening with your arousal and rosy cheeks. “Tell me I’m doing okay? Please? I read five articles about this. I practiced on a peach.”
You gasped. “You practiced on what?!”
“Nevermind. Just- keep calling me pretty. I swear I’ll die happy right here.”
You tugged his head back down, voice ragged and ruined.
“Then make me cum, pretty boy.”
And he did.
Like a man with something to prove.
Like a nerdy little virgin who had just found his true calling.
Your eyes closed shut at the feeling, falling apart at the seams. Every stroke of his tongue making your insides tighten. You suddenly couldn’t remember how breathing worked, all you saw were flashes of white invading your vision, cumming so hard that you almost saw stars. You cried out, high and broken, hands grasping at his head as you came hard against his mouth.
Jisung moaned through it— loud and messy— tongue never letting up, licking you through every twitch, every gasp, every last jolt of overstimulation until you were tugging at his hair for dear life and gasping for air. Only then did he pull back, lips shiny, eyes half-lidded, face absolutely drenched, and smiling like he just beat the final boss of his entire life.
Somewhere in the past twenty minutes between Jisung nuzzling your thighs like a man starved and moaning like he was the one cumming, you had apparently blacked out, transcended the mortal plane, and been reborn as a puddle of girl.
Now, you lay sprawled across his unmade bed, fully clothed from the waist up and violently ruined from the waist down, chest heaving, eyes wet and glassy, one sock half-off your foot like a casualty of war.
And Jisung?
Jisung was cuddled up beside you like the world’s horniest golden retriever, chin resting on your shoulder, looking so smug and soft it was almost offensive.
You could still feel the ghost of his tongue between your legs.
“You sure you’ve never done this before?” You croaked out, blinking up at the ceiling like it had answers.
Jisung tilted his head innocently. “What, that? Nah. I just… researched. A lot. And I… uh, practiced on a fruit.”
You turned your head slowly. “Was it the peach again?”
“…It might’ve also been a mango. For tongue agility. But I named it after you, so it was romantic!”
You tried to snort, but it came out as a wheeze. “I can’t feel my legs, Jisung.”
He beamed. “Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“Still taking it as one.”
He leaned in and kissed your cheek, then your nose, then your forehead like he hadn’t just destroyed your entire nervous system with his mouth.
“I feel like I just unlocked a secret side quest,” he victoriously cheered. “‘Satisfy hot girlfriend until she sees God.’ Bonus XP for oral stamina. Am I your favorite now?”
You blinked at him, still fighting for air. “I don’t even know my name right now. You’ve ruined me.”
Jisung squeaked and tucked his face into your neck, practically vibrating with joy. “You’re gonna make me cry.”
“You should. I saw the afterlife. It was just a video game buffering screen.”
He laughed, then rolled onto his back with a dramatic sigh. “I can’t believe this is real. You’re real. Your thighs are real. I had a girlfriend and head privileges all in the same night. I feel like I need to call my mom.”
“Please don’t.”
“Too late. She deserves to know her son peaked.”
You smacked him lightly with the nearest pillow, still grasping for air, still dazed.
And then he smiled at you— so big, so genuine, so sickeningly in love that your tired heart clenched.
“I’d do it again in a heartbeat, y’know,” he mumbled, brushing hair from your face. “Just say the word.”
You looked at him, the boy with anime figures on his shelf, lotion still on his desk, and love in his eyes, pulling him in for a kiss.
“Next time,” you whispered, “I’m returning the favor.”
Mindlessly reaching into his sweats, the second your hand wrapped around his length, you froze.
“…Jisung.”
“H-huh?”
You gave a blank expression. Looking down. Looking back up.
“This is- you’re.. how is this even—?”
“I DON’T KNOW,” he cried. “IT DOESN’T EVEN MAKE SENSE, I’M ONLY 5’7!”
You stared at him like he just told you he had a second life as a Marvel superhero.
“Oh my god, I just assumed you’d be, like—”
“Average?!” He gasped, scandalized.
“No! I just- I mean- look at you! You’re this cute little nerd with anime socks and a keyboard with cat ears.. how are you packing all this?!”
You were in utter disbelief, there’s no way your sweet, stammering little boyfriend had been walking around with a dick that big and had no idea what kind of weapon he was carrying. Just raw, untapped dick potential— XL stats on a man who still apologizes when his knees crack too loud. Poor baby had been lugging around a whole third leg, and didn’t even know the first thing to do with it ;(
He simply shook his head, fully tomato red now, flailing beneath you like he was about to spontaneously combust. He watched you like he was afraid to blink. You pumped him once, slowly, watching him shiver under your touch. His lips parted. His back arched. You hadn’t even gotten started and he already looked completely ruined.
“Can I ride you?” You asked sweetly.
He nodded so fast his head could nearly fell off. “Yes. Yes, oh my god, yes- please, I’ll do anything.”
“Anything?” You cocked your eyebrow.
“I’ll uninstall League right now if you ask me to—”
You giggled as you rolled the condom down over him, letting his hands greedily grab at your thighs. He was panting, forehead glistening with a sheen of sweat, like his brain was overheating just from the anticipation.
Then you finally lowered yourself, sinking down onto him, gradually, feeling the way you take him so easily from being soaking wet. Jisung mumbles something illegible under his breath as your cunt swallows his cock whole. It didn’t take long for you to reach the end of him since you were already so ready for him, staying in the same position to feel all of him inside you. His cock was splitting you open so nicely, it felt like you were in utter paradise.
And he made the sound.
Like his soul physically left his body, floated into the air, and gave you a salute on the way out.
“F-fuck.. you’re tight, I can’t—” he clutched your waist, eyes fluttering. “I’m gonna die. This is it. This is how I go.” He desperately bucks into you, wanting to feel more movement from you.
You move your hips to match his rhythm as you gain your balance, pressing both hands on his shoulder blades. You bounce slightly up and down on his cock, feeling your walls being filled up by every inch of him. You shifted from grinding on him real slow to picking up your pace indefinitely. Jisung threw his head back against the pillow from the pleasure, the sound of his balls hitting against your ass with the combination of it jiggling as you rode him like a bunny was enough to make him want to burst on the spot.
You leaned down and give him a chaste kiss. “Best way to go, huh?”
He nods vehemently. “Please don’t stop. Ever. I’ll cancel my Crunchyroll subscription for you. I’ll stop buying figurines. I’ll even delete my Genshin account.”
“Okay, now you’re being dramatic.”
He groaned helplessly as you continuously rode him like your life depended on it, breath hitching with every drag of your hips. He was so sensitive, so overwhelmed with it all that he couldn’t stop moaning into your mouth, mumbling broken, incoherent things like, “You feel soso good,” and “I can’t believe I get to have this,” and “Am I still breathing? No? Cool.”
You kissed down his jaw, showing no signs of stopping. You knew this was going to be one of those moments you’d both play on loop in your heads for a long, long time. “Still pretty, baby.”
He pants out. “You’re gonna kill me.”
You simply keep moaning as you kept bouncing on his cock, he was thrusting back into you, going even deeper. Your eyes reaching the back of your skull from the way he was hitting all the right spots. It wouldn’t take long before you started screaming his name and showering him with endless compliments.
“You’re so fucking pretty, Ji.” You were a broken record at this point, nothing but your whines and his grunts filling the room. You felt tense, your clit was throbbing, the pressure build up making you dizzy. Jisung couldn’t keep his eyes off you for a second, the way your tits bounced through your shirt, the way your long acrylics dug into his skin, he wasn’t even sure how he was still alive.
This was better than any of those fake scenarios that he’d absentmindedly create in his head, better than finally beating a level that he’d get stuck on for hours. He was in pure heaven, and he felt his high approaching any minute.
“I-I think ’m gonna cum,” he desperately choked out, rocking into you like a dog in heat.
Jisung was wrecked beneath you. Hands fisting into the sheets, mouth agape, his eyes rolling back every time you sank down fully and clenched around him.
“Fuck, please- please, I-I can’t,” he whimpered, voice shaky, flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. His stomach tightening with every motion, trying so hard not to lose it.
You leaned forward and cupped his face, riding him a little harder, the slap of skin soft but steady. “You said you could take it, baby,” you whispered, voice syrup-sweet. “You begged for this.”
“I know, I- just- pleaseplease can I cum?” he panted, nearly on the verge of tears. His voice was raw, wrecked, like every second you didn’t let him was a cruel punishment. “’m so close, I’m- I’ll be good, I swear, just let me.. please—”
You seal his lips with yours, just to quiet the begging, grinning against his mouth as his hands fumbled for your hips again. He moaned into the kiss, his hips twitching helplessly under yours.
“You’re lucky you’re cute when you beg,” you airly chuckled, pulling back just enough to look down at him. His eyes were wild, glazed over, the pretty sounds he made were like music to your ears.
“Th-thank you,” he sobbed, the gratitude in his voice borderline ridiculous. “’m gonna- I’m- oh my god—”
And with that, he finally let go. Releasing every last drop of his seed into the condom, muscles tensing up, gripping you like you were his only tether to reality. He looked down to see your arousal creating a white, creamy ring around the base of his thick cock, almost about to cum again just from the mere sight alone. Your legs felt like jello, you were weightless, collapsing onto his sweaty, sticky chest as you try to catch your breath, brain all foggy in your post-coital daze.
You didn’t expect him to cry.
Okay— not, like, full sobbing. But a little misty-eyed? A little “what did I do to deserve this?” A sparkle in his gaze as you lay draped across his chest, both of you blissed out and glowing in the soft, RGB-lit afterglow?
Yeah.
He was trying so hard not to sniffle.
“You okay, baby?” You murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the curve of his jaw.
Jisung nodded, eyes wide and glassy. “I just… I thought my first time would be like, awkward. Or disappointing. Or I’d accidentally sneeze into someone’s mouth and get banned from touching boobs forever.”
You laughed against his skin. “Definitely didn’t happen.”
“No,” he grins, wrapping his arms tighter around you, “this was better than anything I could’ve ever imagined in my head. Better than my first SSR pull in Genshin. Better than when I tried the seasonal spicy chicken ramen and lived.”
You tilted your head up to meet his eyes. “That’s a pretty long list of victories to beat.”
“You’re the only victory that matters.”
“Oh my god,” you groaned playfully, “who is this smooth man and what has he done with my sweaty, anime-obsessed virgin boyfriend?”
He huffed, burying his face into your hair. “He’s still sweaty and obsessed with anime. He just… also happens to be madly in love with you.”
You smiled into his chest.
“Also,” he added, completely deadpan, “I think I saw the shadow realm.”
You snorted. “When?”
“When you said I was pretty and grabbed my—” His voice cracked. He covered his face with his hands. “Oh my god, I can’t say it. My ancestors are watching.”
You giggled, shifting to lay next to him and intertwining your fingers with his.
And for a while, it was just quiet. Safe. His hand slowly brushing over your side. Your heartbeat syncing with his. The faint whir of his PC fan still spinning in the corner because, of course, he never actually shut it down.
Then he jolted upright suddenly, as if he remembered something urgent.
“Wait.”
You blinked up at him, amused. “What?”
He slid off the bed, naked except for one, singular sock and scurried to his cluttered desk. You watched, dazed and curious, as he fumbled with drawers and cracked open a cabinet that definitely shouldn’t have had food in it.
Finally, he turned around triumphantly. Holding out a white, rectangular box.
“Pocky.”
You stared. “…Seriously?”
“I always imagined I’d give my girlfriend Pocky after her first time with me,” he said solemnly. “Like a weird little anime reward.”
You sat up and grinned. “You are a weird little anime reward.”
He climbed back into bed beside you and opened the box, pulling out one, white chocolate-dipped stick and offering it with both hands like it was a sacred gift.
You bit it gently from his fingers.
“Mmm. You’re such a good boy,” you purred with a playful smile, “giving me snacks after ruining me.”
He short-circuited. Almost choking on his own Pocky. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“I hope so.”
You kissed his cheek, then his nose, and then— just to mess with him— you whispered, “Still thinking about how big you are, by the way.”
Jisung made a noise so high-pitched it could only be heard by dogs. He flopped face down into the sheets, flailing helplessly while you laughed and straddled his back.
“You have to stop saying things like that,” he muffled into the pillow.
“Why?” You asked sweetly, brushing his hair back. “You’re my pretty boy. I’m just appreciating what’s mine.”
He peeked up at you, still pink, still glowing.
“…Promise you’re mine too?”
You leaned down and pressed your lips against his, soft and slow.
warning/s: brain washing, dumbification, dom/sub dynamics, manipulation, loss of virginity, corruption, hyunjin calls reader 'pretty', 'my lamb' and 'good girl', choking, power play, pain kink, dacryphilia, overstimulation, breeding kink (wow lmk if i missed some)
a/n: this is just some dirty smut i had so much fun writing! hope you enjoy and if you did please reblog!🩷
~check out my: Masterlist♡
Being part of a big community that devotes all their time to serve only one person was not how you imagined you'd be living ever.
But here you are, after everyone in your life abandoned you, after everything stopped making sense, after everything you ever loved started hating you, after you almost fell off the edge.
He was the one who found you and the one who saved your lost, aching soul. A beacon of shining light, a man so beautiful that you weren't even sure he was real.
That was two years ago, when you were at your lowest, and now you are the happiest you've ever been in your entire life.
Your brain is re-wired only to know your leader, your god, Hyunjin. Only to obey his commands, heed by his word, worship him. And you are happy to do so, after all, he saved your life. He knows what's best for you, more than you do. He loves you, you know that anything he does to you and anything he makes you do he does so out of love.
That's what you were taught and what you believe. So, when you're finally invited to his huge tent, you couldn't be more excited.
One of his guards brought you a red rose the day before and you knew, as well as eveyone did, you are the next chosen one.
You can't sleep all night, wondering what's in store for you. What is your leader Hyunjin gonna ask of you, make you do? You really have no idea, but you're ready to do anything he says.
Come the morning, some of the other girls and boys helped you prepare. They've gotten commands to help you wash and shave, which made you feel a little bit nervous. With that you know you'll probably be naked in front of him at one point and you hope he likes what he sees.
You put on a beautiful white dress, one that Hyunjin sent for you through his guards. There's a flower crown on your head, courtesy of the girls and boys helping you get ready.
Your heart pounds in your chest and in your ears when the guards come to pick you up and lead you to your leader's tent. On the way there, people clap for you and congratulate you.
Briefly you wonder, where the other women and men disappeared to after being invited into his tent but you bury that thought in favor of happier thoughts. Like how you can serve your god.
As soon as you walk in with the guards, you don't dare to look up so you don't seem disrespectful.
"Leave us."- his sweet voice rings in your ears. The guards bow shortly and leave, leaving you alone with Hyunjin.
"Kneel, pretty."- he says and you do so, falling to your knees immediately, your eyes trained on the ground. Footsteps shuffle closer towards you and your heart jumps up into your throat.
"Look at me."- he says, his voice a little bit lower than before. You look up and are met with his godlike features that you missed seeing since he doesn't come out of his tent often. You're in awe every time you catch a glimpse of him, now even more when you're so close to him.
He places his finger on your chin, lifting it up a little. Your lips part as you continue looking at him. His finger slides slowly on your jaw down to your neck where he wraps his hand around you but doesn't squeeze.
Your eyes flutter at the action, hands folding behind your back in an act of submission towards your leader.
"Are you gonna be a good girl for me?"- he asks.
"Yes, yes I will."- you answer immediately.
"You will do what?"- he smirks.
"I will be a good girl for you."- you repeat his words.
"Good."- he says, unwrapping his fingers from you and leaning back. "I wonder why I haven't brought you here earlier. You're really pretty."- he adds, leaning down to look at you more closely.
His eyes are dark and deep and you find yourself drowning in them, feeling weak and submissive just from the way he looks at you.
"T-thank you, Sir."- your voice wavers.
"Hyunjin will suffice. I want to hear my name from those pretty lips."- he smirks again, running his thumb on your lower lip.
"Yes, Hyunjin."- saying his name like that feels blasphemous and you feel like you should be punished just for uttering it so easily. But he ordered you to call him by his name and that's what you're gonna do.
Hyunjin looms over you, his hands on your shoulders, slowly pushing the straps of your dress down. Your chest rises and falls together with your rapid breathing, his touch feels electric on your skin.
He keeps pushing your dress down until your ample breasts pop out for him to admire.
"So pretty."- he whispers, his fingers ghosting over your hardening nipple ever so slightly, teasing you.
Your breath catches in your throat, as he smiles at you.
"You've never been touched, right?"
"No, never."- you say, shaking your head innocently.
"That better be the truth, my lamb. You're mine to corrupt."- he smiles even wider and you shiver.
"It's the truth, Hyunjin."- you whisper his name, it still feels too holy to just roll of your tongue like that.
He smirks and starts undressing right in front of you, while you still kneel on the floor, breasts exposed. You can't believe he's doing that already, you feel like you haven't earned to look at his perfect body yet.
But there he is, in all his glory, his semi hard cock right in front of your face and your mouth waters, arousal pools between your legs.
"Worship my cock, pretty."- he's smirking at you, half-lidded eyes tracking your every breath, every twitch, every shiver.
"Yes, Hyunjin."- you whisper and lean in closer. Your hand comes up to the base of his cock, tongue poking out of your lips to give his head a few experimental licks.
He chuckles at you, his hand coming down to caress your head gently.
"You're like a little kitten."- he says condescendingly but to you anything he says is a compliment.
"Put your mouth around it."- he instructs and you do so, enveloping his head with your lips.
"Show me how good you want to be for me. Suck."- Hyunjin commands and you do just what he says. You start lightly sucking on his head, darting your tongue out to play with his slit experimentally and the most beautiful low grunt comes out of his mouth.
You're encouraged by that so you take more of him in your mouth, and his fingers entangle in your hair, holding you more tightly.
Pretty sounds keep coming out of his mouth as you take more and more of him, his cock growing harder in your wet mouth. You're proud of yourself, so proud that you're making your god feel this good, that your own arousal drips down your inner thigh. You press your legs together and Hyunjin notices.
You're too lost in the pleasure of pleasing him that you don't notice the smirk growing on his face, nor the hand that holds your head holding you even tighter now, but still careful of the pretty flower crown that adorns you. He grabs a fistful of your hair and without warning pushes his cock in deeper into you, his tip hitting the back of your throat, making you gag as tears gather in your eyes, saliva dripping down your chin.
"You gag so sweetly."- he smirks holding your head down and fucking your face lightly. Your heart starts beating faster as you fold your hands behind your back again letting Hyunjin use your face for his pleasure. Tears stream down your cheeks and you shut your eyes tight as he picks up speed. There's nothing you can do but try to breathe through your nose and let him have his way with you.
"Look at me!"- he orders, pulling on your hair and you whimper around him, sending vibrations through his cock as you open your eyes and try to look at him, vision blurred by your tears.
"I love seeing you like this. So pretty when you're ruined for me."- he says and you moan around him again.
"But we're just getting started, my lamb."- he pulls his cock out of your mouth abruptly and you cough a little, trying to regain your senses.
"Get up."- Hyunjin orders and you do so.
Hyunjin's hands are back on your dress as he slides it down your body. You've got nothing under it, just how he wanted you to come to him.
Suddenly, you feel self conscious, being naked like this in front of someone you considered your only god. Your hands fold over your body in an attempt to cover up.
"Are you trying to cover yourself up from me?"- Hyunjin asks, and you look at him, shivering under his gaze.
"I'm- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."- you swallow, letting your hands fall on your sides.
"It's okay my little lamb."- Hyunjin coos at you, hand coming up to cradle your cheek. "It's your first time, I know you're just being shy. But you don't have to be afraid, I know what you need. I know what's best for you."- he whispers the last sentence, as he comes closer to you.
"Yes, Hyunjin."- you repeat the same two words like you're under some kind of spell, mesmerized by his eyes, his lips, his touch.
"Yes what?"
"Yes, you know what's best for me."- you say as he leans in even closer, his breath on your lips.
The hand that was on your cheek is now holding the back of your neck, as his other hand slides down over your breast and side to your lower back. Hyunjin pulls you into his body and you feel how hot his skin is against yours. It makes your senses buzz as he presses his plump lips on yours.
He cradles your head with his big hand, tilting it back and holding you in place as he devours your lips with his. You moan against him, parting your mouth and allowing his tongue to slip in.
Your eyes roll back and you shut them tightly as he pushes his tongue as deep as he can and starts exploring your mouth, tasting you and making sure you never forget the taste of him.
You're not sure if you're allowed to touch him so you keep your hands on your sides, fingertips digging into your own hips because you need to hold on to something. Hyunjin's stealing away your breath with his kiss, you feel dizzy, like you're floating. He finally releases you when he's almost out of breath and you gasp as he looks at you wildly, biting on his lower lip.
"Want you on the bed. Now."- he growls and you almost trip over the carpet in an attempt to lay down as fast as you can.
"Easy, pretty. Don't damage my goods."- Hyunjin smirks as he grabs onto your arm and steadies you.
"I'm sorry, Hyunjin."
"Just lay down."- he orders a little more gently, trying to soothe you and also calm himself down. He's not one to yell or hurt his object of affection unless it's punishment and it's absolutely needed. And he doesn't want to scare you, not with how unhinged he gets when he's turned on.
You lay down as he instructed you, his bed is comfortable and the sheets seem to be made of satin or something similar. You've never touched something as soft as that fabric and it soothes your fast-beating heart just a little.
"Show me that sweet pussy, my lamb."- Hyunjin wastes no time as he sits on the bed.
You gasp a little, taken aback by the command but you obey nonetheless, spreading your legs as wide as you can to show Hyunjin what belongs to him.
He bites his lip, hands on your thighs as he leans in closer between your legs.
"Beautiful."- he says, eyeing it and you feel so vunerable and exposed, even a little humiliated but you try to remind yourself it's your leader Hyunjin, you're his and your body is his, and he has the right to look at you however he wants.
"It looks like a pretty rose."- he adds, smirking and you swallow, you heart almost leaping out of your chest as arousal gushes out of you.
"T-thank you, Hyunjin."- you say quietly, lips trembling in anticipation.
Hyunjin leans in even closer, breath fanning over your wetness and your pussy clenches around nothing. He smirks, he's teasing you and he knows he can do that as long as he wants and you don't get to say no or protest it, you just have to take it.
You wouldn't dare go against him, you believe in him too much to do something bad.
So you keep still as his finger makes contact with your clit. He circles it a little, before sliding it down over your folds, teasingly dipping the pad of his finger inside your dripping hole.
You breathe deeply, trying to calm your racing heart and you feel an ache in your pelvis, an ache telling you to move and chase his fingers, beg for more, anything he'll give you. But you know better than that.
Hyunjin gathers some of your wetness with his fingers and brings them to your lips.
"Taste yourself."- he says and you put your tongue out and start licking at his fingers, eyes never leaving his. He looks at you as if he's going to devour you and you wouldn't mind if he did.
He moves his hand away from your lips and leans down. You think he'll kiss your lips so you close your eyes and wait for him but then you feel his tongue on your nipple.
"Ah!"- you moan as your eyes snap open and you look at him. Hyunjin smirks, his tongue playing with your nipple, moving it up and down, left and right. You're already shaking, so sensitive as you've never been touched like this before.
Hyunjin puts his hand on your other breast, giving it a squeeze before pinching your nipple. He grips your breast again as he takes your nipple in his mouth and starts sucking.
The sight and the feeling together is too much so you shut your eyes tightly, head falling back as you start whimpering and arching into him.
A shot of pain runs through you and your eyes open, only for your mind to register that Hyunjin bit on your nipple.
"Don't look away from me."- he grins, tongue darting out to lick at your tender nipple.
"I'm s-sorry."- you whimper, body twitching under him.
He moves to your other breast, giving it equal attention and when you think he's done, he's not. He just keeps playing with your nipples until they're swollen and tender and you can't take anymore. Silent tears run down your cheeks as you whimper. Hyunjin releases your nipple from his lips and comes up closer to your face.
"Why are you crying, my lamb?"- he asks, knuckles brushing gently on your cheek.
"It hurts."- you whisper, another tear threatening to fall down but Hyunjin wipes it off.
"I promise it'll feel good, pretty. You know I love you, hm? You trust me, don't you?"- he coos at you again, caressing your face and you can't help feeling small when he talks to you like that. Feeling like, to thank him you need to submit to him, be good for him, do what he orders, trust everything he says.
"I trust you, Hyunjin. I would never dream of doubting my leader."- you say.
"Good girl."- he grins. "Now, keep watching me."- Hyunjin whispers as he leans down between your legs, his face close to where you need him the most.
He teases you with kisses to your inner thigh, all the way towards your core, still avoiding it and pressing kisses all around it. You shiver, keeping your eyes on his every move as he commanded you. He looks back at you, eyes unwavering as he presses a kiss to your clit.
You bite on your lip and stay still while Hyunjin starts playing with your clit, giving it teasing kisses and little licks at first before he wraps his lips around it and starts sucking and licking faster. Your legs tremble and you accidentally moan too loudly, arm coming up so you can bite on it.
"Don't do that, pretty. Let me hear your pleasure."- Hyunjin immediately grabs your arm and moves it away from your lips.
"I'm sorry, Hyunjin."- your lips tremble, eyes watering a little. You don't want to keep making mistakes like that and look dumb in front of Hyunjin, you want to be good for him and worthy of his love.
"Hey, hey, don't apologize. You're still learning, my little lamb. Just let me guide you, okay?"- he soothes you with his sweet voice, hands gently caressing your thighs.
"Yes, Hyunjin."- you chant again, determined to follow every command, obey every order he gives you.
Hyunjin leans back down between your legs, this time his tongue slides between your folds.
You gasp at the action, hands gripping the pretty satin sheets under you. Hyunjin smirks as he grips your ass, thumbs on either sides of your core, slowly pulling you apart, opening you up for him.
You whimper, pussy clenching around nothing again and he looks up at you, eyes dark and full of lust.
"Such a sweet pussy. Desperate to be stuffed, hm?"- he asks but gives you no time to answer as he dives in, pushing his tongue inside you as deep as he can.
You're moaning and whining, your legs trembling, knuckles turning white where you grip at the sheets. Nothing ever felt as good as this in your life, Hyunjin is pleasing you so well, swallowing all your juices.
You almost feel too ashamed that you have your god do something like that to you, but that makes you feel even more determined to please him too and give him whatever he asks of you.
Hyunjin is relentless, his tongue is never tiring, even when your moans grow higher in pitch and you feel something swirl in your stomach. It travels down as you keep shaking, legs almost closing around Hyunjin's head and he fucks your pussy with his tongue even faster and you can't hold it in anymore.
"P-please!"- you beg, you don't even know what for but Hyunjin doesn't stop or slow down, and you let go as you moan his name repeatedly, your juices painting his tongue, lips and chin.
"You did so well, my lamb."- he says, a little breathless.
"T-thank you. Hyunjin."- you whimper as he dives back in to play with your clit, flicking it with his tongue fast, teeth grazing at it and you mewl, legs falling open again.
It's a lot, almost too much, but you want to take it, you want him to keep playing with you as long as he wants. Your legs are shaking as he keeps making out with your pussy and you explode on his face again. And then again. And again until you've lost count.
Tears keep streaming down your cheek and you don't even register Hyunjin's face in front of yours until he gently wipes your tears away.
"H-Hyunjin."- you cry out.
"Shh. It's okay, my lamb. You're doing so good for me."- he praises you, fingers running up and down your soaking wet pussy, tortured after all the orgasms he ripped from you.
"I want to be- be good for you."- you whimper as he dips his fingertips into you.
"You do?"- he smirks sickly at you and you nod fervently.
"Then you can take two fingers immediately."- he says and slowly starts pushing into you.
You moan, your back arching instinctively as you grab at the sheets again. Hyunjin's fingers are slender but long and you feel the shape of his knuckles as he pushes them in deep, all the way to the ring that adorns his finger, the coldness of it making you shiver.
He starts moving them slowly as your lips fall open into a silent moan and you stare into his eyes, completely mesmerized by him.
"Feels good, pretty?"- Hyunjin asks. The orgasms you had before helped open you up and lubricate you so you weren't in any pain as he keeps stretching you slowly.
"So good, Hyunjin."- you whimper, your eyes fluttering but staying open. You don't want to accidentally shut them or look away from your leader.
He starts moving them faster as he comes closer to you, peppering your face in kisses, catching your tears with his lips. He kisses your eyelids, your nose, the corners of your lips while he keeps plunging his fingers faster and harder into you.
The contrast of his gentle kisses and the way his fingers are abusing your pussy make you feel incredibly hot. Your mind and body buzzes, you don't know anything but Hyunjin in that moment and you feel a pressure build up, a pressure you've never felt before.
"Let go."- Hyunjin orders when he sees you struggling. And you obey, you let go and squirt all over the bed and his hand just as he pulls his fingers out of you.
"Fuck. That's my good girl."- he smirks and pushes his fingers into you abruptly again.
"Ah!"- you almost scream out as he starts fucking you fast again, your pussy screaming with overstimulation. You want to close your legs, beg him to stop but at the same time you never want him to stop.
"You can take one more finger, right my lamb?"- Hyunjin hovers over you. You look up at him with your hooded and wet eyes and nod.
"Words, pretty."- he warns you, his free hand coming up around your throat.
"Yes, I can take it! Please!"- you cry out, spreading your legs even more.
Hyunjin pulls his fingers out and then pushes three of them back in and the stretch has your eyes rolling back. You seek to ground yourself somehow so you grab his bicep, the one that belongs to the hand holding your neck and he squeezes a little.
"H-h-Hyunjin..."- you whimper as Hyunjin fucks you with such force that it has your whole body rocking together with the bed.
"Tell me pretty..."- he smirks. "Do you want my cock inside you?"
Your mind is gone, all you know is Hyunjin and the need to submit to him completely, to give into him even if he kills you.
"Yes, yes, yes, yes please! Yes!"- you keep chanting as your pussy clenches around his fingers, the squelching sound of your wetness so sinful.
"Squirt for me again and I'll think about it."- he smiles crazy at you but to you he looks beautiful and perfect and you have to obey him. So you let go and squirt again, even more than you did before, your heart beating so fast you're scared it'll actually leap out of your chest.
"Fuck!"- Hyunjin looks crazed, hand coming down to slap your pussy. You whine loudly in pain and surprise, feeling so sensitive after everything he did to you. "I need to breed this sweet pussy now. You want that, hm?"
"Yes, I do!"- you whine again as he grabs his cock, sliding his hard tip on your pussy, pressing it into your clit.
"Beg for it!"- he grabs at your neck again, the tip of his cock between your folds, slowly opening you up.
"Please breed me, Hyunjin!"- you beg, and his eyes roll back before he looks at you wildly and starts pushing in.
Your pussy opens up like a flower to take him, you're so tight and warm, so pliant for him like you were made just for this.
His hand squeezes around your neck as he keeps stretching you with his cock, and you feel a sudden rush of fear with your air being cut off like that, the little sting between your legs, the question if you'll even be able to take all of him.
Your nails dig into his arm and he looks at you so darkly, like he's in a trance and you shiver as the tip of his cock pushes up to your cervix.
"Trust me my little lamb. I'd never hurt you."- he squeezes more and you almost start panicking as little spots appear in front of your eyes.
But you trust him and he starts moving slowly and then he finally releases your neck. You gasp for air, your head is spinning as Hyunjin almost pulls out only for him to push back into you forcefully, knocking the breath out of you again.
"H-Hyunjin! I-it hurts!"- you whimper, tears gathering in your eyes again as he pounds into you.
"It'll feel better. Don't worry, pretty."- he whispers and captures your lips in his, shutting you up.
His tongue forces your lips open, exploring your mouth again, his hands have a bruising hold on your hips.
"Unless you want me to stop completely."- he smirks as he suddenly moves away from you.
"N-no, please don't stop!"- you beg, desperate for him. You want him closer to you, as close as it's possible and you ignore the fear bubbling inside you with the way he's looking at you.
"No? You want me to fuck this tight pussy until she can't take anymore, hm?"- he grins, pressing his fingers on your swollen clit and flicking them in time with his thrusts.
"Yes, please Hyunjin! Please!"- you grab at his arm again and he chuckles darkly, speeding up as his hips slap into you so hard that the bed starts rattling. His cock is ripping you apart but all the pain you felt turns into pleasure, and you can't contain your moans nor keep your eyes opened.
Hyunjin enjoys the view of you spread completely open for him, your hair like a halo around your head, the pretty flower crown ruined, leaving some of the flowers stuck in your hair, tears sliding down your cheeks, your pretty lips parted. He enjoys the power he holds over you, how pliant you are for him, how you'd do anything he asks of you. You just might be his favorite, he thinks as he grips your hips harder, his nails digging into your flesh.
Your eyes snap open and meet with his, there's something animalistic in them and fear runs through you again making your pussy clench around him.
"Are you gonna come for me again, pretty?"- he smirks.
"Y-yeah... I'm... I-" - you can't even form a coherent sentence, not with the way he's fucking you, his hands now roaming all over your body, one of them coming up to wrap around your neck again.
"Can you even talk?"- he chuckles as you lean into his hand, ready to let him choke you to death if that's what he wants.
"Ah!"- you moan when he hits that sweet spot inside you.
"Going a little dumb on my cock, aren't you my lamb?"- he growls as he fucks into you harder, his tip hitting your sweet spot repeatedly, driving you insane until you explode all over his cock.
"Mm yes!"- you answer him, your ears ringing and your whole body tense.
"Gonna breed you now."- Hyunjin squeezes your neck, your air cut off again as his hips pound into you. Your lips fall open, eyes wide as you stare at his dark ones, filled with lust and something else lurking behind it.
His hand is bruising on your neck and you panic, feeling like you're slipping away even though the way his cock is ravaging you makes you come on him again and that's the last straw Hyunjin needed before his cock twitches inside you and he paints your walls with his warm come.
He finally releases your neck, you cough and gasp, grabbing at it, your whole body shaking as your wide eyes stare up at Hyunjin.
"You took that so well, my little lamb."- he says as he pulls out, leaving you feeling empty.
"T-thank you."- you voice is hoarse and you almost don't recognize it. Hyunjin reaches to touch your face and you flinch for some reason, which makes him frown.
"Are you afraid of me, pretty?"- he asks, his face serious and seemingly devoid of any emotions. You swallow and lean your face towards his hand.
"No, I'm not."- you say, trying to convince him and yourself even though your heart is beating fast.
"Why did you flinch?"
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It wont happen again."
"It better not. I told you I would never hurt you. Only if you misbehave, then I have to punish you. But you know that everything I do is for your good, right lamb?"- Hyunjin smirks again, caressing your cheek.
"Yes, I know Hyunjin."- you nod.
"Good. Because I'm going to keep you here. You will serve me every day from now on. You will be my wife and bear my children."- he grins, getting up from the bed.
"Really?!"- you ask as you sit up, excited that you out of all people were chosen to serve Hyunjin, to become his wife and give him children.
"Yes. Are you happy about that?"- he hovers over you, hand holding your chin.
"Very happy. And honored."- you nod fervently.
"My little lamb. You know I love you, right?"- Hyunjin asks and there's something gentle shining in his dark eyes.
"Yes, I... I love you too, Hyunjin."- you answer, your lips trembling.
"I know you do."- he smirks again, caressing your head. "Go to sleep now. I have some things to take care of."
"You're not gonna sleep with me?"- you whimper, eyes already watering at the thought of not being next to your leader and soon-to-be husband.
"I'll join you later, my pretty. Don't be sad."- he coos, laying you down and tucking you in.
"Okay."- you say, your eyes closing. After all, you were beyond exhausted and it didn't take long for you to slip away into dreamland.
Hyunjin stands over you for a few moments, eyes scanning your sleeping face, dried tears on your cheeks, lips swollen from kisses and bruises around your neck.
He grins, you're so obedient and innocent, so eager to please him. Everyone else disobeyed him and questioned him but not you. You are so sweet, so good for him. He's going to have so much fun with you and he can't wait to show you just how dark he can be.
In which Jisung’s a bit cringe and pathetic. And you’re a little high, but nonetheless into it.
— Rating; E for Explicit
— Pairing; Han Jisung x Reader
— Author’s Note; A present for @hyunsvngs! Not the original present I wanted to write for her but still a present nonetheless! I hope u enjoy our favorite munch!!! <333
— Warnings; f2l trope, drug use (weed), alcohol use, college au, pwp pretty much, some feelings!, bisexual themes, jisung is a munch, banter, dirty talk, ugh… wet n messy, pathetic boys deserve so much pussy, oral sex (f! rec), full sex happens off screen, confessions (kinda), and maybe some shit that i’ve missed lol.
You’re zoning out in the middle of Jisung’s bed when he interrupts your silence with a loud groan. It startles you slightly, making you turn wild eyes over to the boy in question. He’s lying on his back beside you, arm thrown over his eyes in anguish, You’re not sure what his problem is but you don’t have to ask; Jisung has no problem blurting it out.
“I need to give head, like, yesterday,” he laments, pouting heavily. “God, what I wouldn’t do to feel someone’s fat clit on my tongue right now. Feral for it, honestly.”
Meanwhile, your clit is starting to pulse behind several layers of clothing. The buzz you’re feeling isn’t helping, effects of weed and alcohol doing nothing other than making you hornier and hornier by the minute. Jisung’s running mouth may have flipped your focus, but the intense horny ache that comes out of nowhere every time you smoke isn’t new. Nonetheless, you settle on trying to ignore your best friend, scrolling through your contacts instead. You’re searching mindlessly for someone to text that might be able to come and give you and your pussy some attention. Unfortunately, it’s mostly ineffective because Jisung just keeps rambling on, whining about how if he doesn’t get to eat some pussy soon, he will absolutely wither away.
“Wait,” he pauses, face scrunched like he’s in the middle of some profound epiphany. “You have a clitoris.”
You choke, dropping your phone. It narrowly misses falling on your face and instead lands screen-down on your chest. “Uh, yeah? Girl. Clitoris. We were in the same sex ed course.”
“S’probably fat too,” he mumbles, ignoring you and sounding incredibly cringe while he’s at it.
You fake gag. “That is none of your business.”
“Could be,” he shrugs, rolling over onto his tummy. The movement brings him closer, his arm brushing against yours, and you think your heart stutters in your chest. Normally something as small as that wouldn’t be so impactful, but you suppose the aforementioned substance intake might be the cause for that.
“Aren’t you, like, goin’ through a dry spell right now or somethin’ too?”
“No,” you answer honestly, not sure why you haven’t shut him down yet. “I literally got fucked last week.”
“Oh yeah,” he drawls, socked feet swinging in the air as he nods. “You said he didn’t make you come though.”
“No,” you sigh, lowkey wishing you had kept your mouth shut. “He didn’t.”
“I could,” he says, calm and collected like he’s talking about the weather and not the possibility of getting your clit in his mouth. “‘M really good at it.”
You know. You’ve known Jisung all your life and the two of you have literally been inseparable since diapers. You were there when he went from nerdy and awkward to some weird version of attractive that is still nerdy and awkward, but also really fucking hot. Plus, girls on campus talk; the boys talk, too. It’s not hard to know what they say about Jisung. You can’t say you’ve never thought of him that way because that would be a lie; you’re only human and you have eyes. However, despite hearing about Jisung’s oral fixation and its medal earning techniques, pursuing him in any fashion has never been more than a fleeting thought. Until now.
“Friends don’t fuck their friends, Jisung.”
“Who said anything about fuckin’?” he asks, puffing his cheeks out like a squirrel. “‘M not lookin’ to get my dick wet! Except like, you’re really hot so I definitely wouldn’t say no, but I’m really just trying to eat some pussy. Please?”
The way he says it, nonchalant and mundane, does leave you reeling. Your intoxicated brain and throbbing clit tell you to pedal to the medal, pass go and collect two hundred dollars. What’s a little head between friends, anyway? It’s not like you have to touch him, you don’t have to let Jisung fuck you. He’s just asking for a taste of your pussy, just a little feel of your soft cunt on his lips; nothing too crazy, right? The rational part of your brain, which is – admittedly – a very tiny portion, is telling you to pump the brakes before you end up in a fender-bender collision of misplaced feelings and friendship.
“C’mon,” he begs, big, brown eyes going wet. His bottom lip pokes out, looking oh, so plump and inviting. You watch with rapt attention as his little, pink tongue licks over it. He’s shameless, pulling out all the stops when he leans over to plant his face on your chest.
“I know you want to! Look at this face; I’m so cute,” he whines, “Wouldn’t I be even cuter if I was making you come on it?”
You blink once, twice, three times.
“Please, please, please. Help me out here, bestie!”
You’re wet. Ridiculously so and ashamed that Jisung hasn’t even done anything beyond whining about how your cunt isn’t in his mouth yet. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is. It should be pathetic. It is pathetic! Your cunt drools in your sweats anyways, soaking through your cotton panties and wetting your thighs. You’re ashamed that you’re wet over your best friend sounding like some pathetic virgin. It’s hot, though. Between Jisung’s whimpery voice and baby face, you’re not sure you have it in you to decline. In fact, you know you don’t.
“Fine,” you groan, like it’s such a huge feat to let a gorgeous boy lick your pussy. Well, maybe it is when said boy is your best mate. “Please stop looking at me with those big fucking eyes of yours before I end up letting you get away with murder.”
He snorts in response. completely unattractive though your desire remains strong. He moves over you, pushing your legs to bend at the knee as he settles in front of you, sprung into action. Your own sock-clad feet rest on his thighs, toes curling into his joggers.
“You’re g’na to let me murder your pussy,” he slurs with a childish giddiness, much like a kid on Christmas. He’s reaching for the waistband of your sweats immediately, not even bothering to ask you for permission. “God, I bet you taste so good.”
“Kind of tart,” you blurt, lifting your hips as he tugs. “Tangy? I guess.”
He pauses, gripping your sweats as they droop around your ankles. His pupils are so wide not that his eyes look black, molten pools of heat that singe you at the nerves.
“Fuck, you —,” he gulps, tossing his head back for a brief second. “Tasting yourself?!”
“Mhm,” you’re shy under his gaze, crossing your ankles once he gets your pants off. “Is that weird? I was just curious.”
“W-Weird?! No, that’s— that’s so hot,” he mumbles, licking his own lips. If you moved your feet up and inward, you’d feel how hard he is. Hard and leaking over a pussy he hasn’t even seen yet.
“You’re so hot,” Jisung whines, hands fumbling for your panties this time. Only then does he notice how wet it is between your legs. “Goddamn. Knew I should’ve thought of this sooner.”
You’re not able to unpack that statement, not that you’d want to while you’re high anyway. Besides, you’re more concerned with the way Jisung’s hands are parting your thighs, palms adding pressure to the backs of them so you can’t close them and block his line of sight. He’s totally focused on your naked cunt, like tunnel vision, caught up in a hunger so visceral that it feels like being swept away in the undertow of a powerful wave. Slick clings to your labia and thighs, glistening and taunting him to have a taste. Embarrassingly, and in a matter of nanoseconds, Jisung’s pressed belly down on the mattress, nose buried in the junction of your thigh and groin as he inhales deeply.
“Fuck,” he huffs, something wetting your skin as he speaks, “I’m drooling.”
“O-Oh,” you choke, cunt clenching around nothing, slick leaking out of your hole with the admission. “Jisung.”
“Smells s’damn good,” he slurs more, kissing at your arousal dampened thighs. You can hear his lips smack together in an attempt to really taste you on his tongue, but he doesn’t move to lick you for real. “I’m probably g’na come in my pants.”
He says it to himself, a bit quieter than he would if he was speaking directly to you, but you hear him anyway. You can’t help the way your breath stutters, catching in your chest at the visual that fills your mind. You think about maybe being able to return the favor, wonder if his cockhead is as leaky as your hole is. Would he taste as good as you think?
He doesn’t let you fantasize for too long, drawing all your focus when he drops one of your thighs to hook his arm over it instead, hand resting over the soft skin of your belly and petting it gently. He kisses directly over your slit at the same time, trailing along the length of it eagerly. That lasts a few moments before the hand on your belly is reaching just a bit further, long fingers spreading the lips of your cunt just enough to reveal the one thing Jisung’s been after since the beginning. Just behind your labia, a little below the apex and tucked in the center lies your pudgy, swollen clit, just begging to be kissed and sucked on.
“Holy shit,” he rumbles, dazed and hornier than he can recall ever being before.
“Well don’t just stare at it!” you whine, belly clenching. “Do something, Sung. Please.”
“Am,” he assures you, speaking in fragmented sentences. “G’na suck it,” he sighs, lashes fluttering as his mouth inches closer. “G’na suck this pussy so good.”
Time feels like it stops with the first touch of his tongue. It’s wet, soaked in his spit as he drags it flat up the center of you. You’re too busy staring at the ceiling with heavy, pinched breaths so you don’t see his eyes rolling back in his head as he does it. You fight the rolling of your own as Jisung does it again, this time dragging his nose and his tongue through your folds. It feels so good that you can feel yourself melting into his sheets, arms eagerly hooking beneath your own knees to keep yourself open for him.
“Hah,” you moan, nails digging into your own flesh. “Oh my God.”
“Mm,” Jisung hums, mouth full of pussy. His lips smack against your flesh as he licks his fill, savoring the taste of you. “S’good?”
“Uh-huh,” you sigh, tossing your head from side to side. Your thighs are quivering already and he’s barely done anything. “Mouth so— Oh, fuuuuck!”
You’re caught off guard by the near sudden suckling, realizing that your best friend has chosen to slurp your clit right into his warm, little mouth. And God, is it warm. Wet as hell, too. All that heat, wetness, and suction surrounding your swollen nub as Jisung’s mouth pulls at it gently. You swear you have to be dreaming, legs kicking slightly. No fucking way this is real. Despite how good those gentle suckles feel, nothing compares to the added flick of a sure tongue. When Jisung combines the two, coaxing your clit out from under the engorged hood, you feel yourself go cross eyed from how wrecked you feel under his ministrations.
“Ji, Ji,” you pant, clit pulsing against his tongue, “Oh, your mouth,” you laugh, delirious with it. “So good, Jisung. Sooo good on my pussy.”
“Yeah,” he pants, kissing your puffy clit while slipping lower. “Told you,” he mumbles, sliding his tongue into your entrance and still trying to talk, “Know how t’eat pussy good.”
It’s inside you. His whole tongue. Wet and scratchy and shoved into your cunt so he can lick your taste out from the source. You can’t believe your luck, can’t believe how getting crossfaded while watching The X-Files turned into you getting the life sucked out of you through your pussy. You’re definitely not complaining though, not when you clamp down around said tongue and all you can hear is Jisung’s deep, broken moans; not when all you can feel are his soft cheeks against you and wet, devious mouth working you into a frenzy. He doesn’t even need to add fingers to make you say you’re going to come.
“I’m gonna come,” you say sharply, trying to stay still.
“Do it,” Jisung encourages, slurping at your labia. The skin stretches with his actions, bouncing back when its released. “Come on my face.”
“Oh, don’t,” you slur, twitching and reaching for something to hold onto and finding purchase in his hair. “Don’t fuckin’ say that.”
Jisung can only grin evilly.
“C’mon,” he teases, sucking your clit back into his mouth, rutting his hips against the mattress. “Use my mouth ‘n come.”
You are helpless to try, a slave to your own pleasure. Jisung’s words ring in your skull as you hold him still, rolling your hips and dragging your clit up and down the expanse of his tongue. He’s so good for you, letting you take control, moaning and groaning like he’s the one receiving the top-tier head of the century. In the end, yes — Jisung’s mouth is a force to be reckoned with, but it's the sight of those big, hershey kiss eyes looking at you reverently that does you in. They’re so big, brown and wet, adoration and lust swimming in them, that you can’t help but shake apart. Jisung groans heartily as your hands twist in his hair, tugging as you come, spilling warm and tangy all over his tongue.
He licks until you’re kicking at him, trying to pull your clit away from his greedy mouth. When you look at him, his face is drenched in your cum from the apples of his cheeks to the lines of his jaw. You feel like your soul has left your body, but you’re still buzzing with want. Something lurking in your veins that you don’t have the higher function to dissect right now.
“I—,” you pant, watching him lick the remnants of you from his face. A small grin graces your lips and you shake your head in disbelief. “What the actual fuck, Jisung?”
“It’s just head,” he shrugs, “Fuck, your pussy though,” he sighs fondly, adjusting his dick. “Ten out of ten would eat again.”
There’s a pause then, a stretch of minutes that feel like the slow turn of cogs in a machine. Still high but coming down quickly, the two of you are left staring at each other, assessing the scene. You, still clad in your t-shirt and socks, and Jisung, still completely dressed. On a curious whim, your eyes drop to the hard length between Jisung’s legs and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious if he can use it well, too.
“So,” you drawl, meeting his gaze. “Still not trying to get your dick wet?”
His cock jumps, ready and eager. “Uh, no. I’m definitely trying. I’ve been trying to get you on it for years,” he admits.
You laugh. Of course he would admit something so important in the cringiest way possible.
“You’re pathetic,” you tell him, tapping his boner with your foot. His lashes flutter again and you choose to file that away for later. “I still want you inside me.”
synopsis: there's an hour until your roommate comes back and your boyfriend is looking particularly delicious.
a/n: HI :3 i wrote it.... jisung not a complete sub.. i wrote it. as always thank u miss may and miss ems for proofreading for me <3
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sw: daddy kink, soft dom jisung maybe?, choking, sub reader, messy sex, reader has a wap, oral (m and f rec), doggy, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk! jisung has a dirty mouth
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there’s a scoff from beside you, and you jump in surprise when jisung wails, flinging his legs around. “baby! you’re not even watching the movie!”
you’re not, and you can’t even deny it. you’ve been staring blankly at your laptop screen where it sits on the edge of your twin bed, and it feels like you have seen this studio ghibli film with jisung a million times. you huff and try to curl up into his chest, and he makes a noise again, nose nudging your head incessantly until you look up at him.
“are you bored?” he asks, eyes round. his bottom lip is jutted out into a pout, and you want to kiss it, want to litter kisses around his face until he’s blushing and giggling in his shyness.
it’s been a few months with jisung now. he was so cool when you first met him, all baggy jeans and beanies and nail polish, and he even lives off campus. he has his own bedroom there, and you honestly wish you two were stationed there right now instead of anxiously waiting for your roommate to arrive, because you’d been thinking about sex with jisung.
of course you had. jisung had arrived to yours with his signature wide grin, messy curly hair and oversized flannel falling off his broad shoulders, and you’d immediately thought of jumping his bones. you let him into your room, curled up on the bed with him and let him choose the movie, and while you’d been waiting for him to make a move, he seems to not even be thinking about it.
you’re not bored, you just want your boyfriend’s cock in your mouth.
“‘m not bored, hannie,” you shake your head solemnly. he tilts his head in confusion, and you feel bad for thinking such unsavoury thoughts about him. it’s not like you can help yourself, he just fucked you so good last time, and your eyes are going half lidded just from the thought. your legs on his shoulders, the headboard of his bed hitting the wall, his mouth on your tits, his fingers on your-
“oh my god,” he bursts out laughing, eyes crinkling. “jagi. are you being dirty right now?! i just wanted to watch a movie-”
“i didn’t say anything!” you whine, slapping his shoulder playfully, and jisung’s still chortling. he can’t help it, shoulders shaking, and when he finally calms down your cheeks are burning crimson. you grimace, embarrassment eating you whole. “sung-ah.”
he looks at you with a cocky grin, raising his eyebrows. “baby, there’s nothing to be ashamed about. i’m thinking about fucking you all the time. i’ve been hard since i got here, to be honest.”
the way he says it is so straightforward, so blunt, that it makes you scoff out a laugh. you love the way he can make you feel so relaxed by just being him, and so you cuddle closer, wiggling against his chest in delight when he kisses your forehead.
and then you realise.
“you- you’re hard… right now?” you ask, licking over your bottom lip. it’s hard to tell in his huge baggy jeans, but if you stare hard enough you think you can see his length pressing against his zipper. you feel jisung nod against your head, and you sigh, rubbing your thighs together with need. he’s hard right now, and his hands move to the denim to adjust himself. “i- can i suck you off, sungie? i want to so bad.”
the film has been forgotten. you still hear the audio blaring from your laptop speakers, and your eyes move to look at the screen to check the time. you still have an hour until your roommate gets back.
“fuck. yeah, you can,” jisung nods eagerly. his hands move from his jeans to allow you access, and you’re quick to undo the button and the zipper that keep you from your boyfriend’s cock. he’s hard in his boxers, a wet patch of precum soaking through the black fabric, and you pull his jeans down all the way to discard them on the floor.
jisung pulls his shirt up to above his tummy for you to see him in his whole, and you blink wordlessly at the sight of him, mouth agape. above his boxers, a v-line leads upwards into his slender waist before panning outwards again at his broad shoulders. his abs clench and unclench under his skin in anticipation, and you run a fingernail down one, watching him quiver. he grins cockily, but his chest is heaving already, and you get so irritated at his confidence that you lean down instantly to mouth over his clothed erection.
“shit,” jisung whimpers, hand moving to clutch the headboard behind his head. “fuck, yeah. suck daddy’s cock, my baby. pull it out, c’mon, c’mon-“
“jisung,” you huff, eyes stern when you look up at him. he pushes his fringe from his eyes with his free hand, licks over his lips, and you’re still glaring. “let me play.”
he does. he lets you mouth and dribble all over the fabric of his boxers until they’re soaked through, material almost turning transparent with your spit, and then you finally yank the waistband down to rest underneath his balls. they’re so little, so round and full, and they almost push his shaft upright for you with how swollen they are.
you lick over his balls and he gasps, thighs twitching. “mm, god, fuckin’- hnnnfg, hot little mouth, baby,” he breathes, eyes fluttering shut, and you’re so desperate you can’t help but lean upwards to suck his cockhead into your mouth. you run your tongue on the underside of his tip, right where it’s sensitive, and his hands fly to your hair so fast you think he might fuck your throat. “don’t be mean to me, yeah? not today. not today, my baby, be good for daddy.”
“mm,” you hum, letting his shaft fall from your mouth. with a grip around his base, brushing past his dark pubic hair, you slap it against your tongue a few times. jisung’s eyes roll back into his head. “i’ll be good for daddy. daddy likes me dirty, huh?”
“f-fuck yeah, my baby,” he nods, enthusiastic, and when your head ducks down again to taste him his knee jolts so hard he almost kicks you. “daddy loves you d-dirty, ooh- oh, that’s- baby, makin’ my cock feel so good.”
you let him tighten his grip onto your hair, and then you bob your head. jisung’s length always presses at your throat uncomfortably but you can’t help but crave the pressure, sucking hard every time your head drops and letting your lips muse wetly over his shaft on the way back up. jisung’s hips kick up when his cockhead finally kisses the back of your throat and you gag, eyes watering, and he’s quick to pull you off of him by your hair.
a string of your saliva connects you to his length as you pout up at him in question. “i’ll cum, don’t- don’t do that,” he says, breathless, and you giggle. it’s hoarse but jisung still smiles as if you’ve charmed the socks off of him, and you blink in question when he finally takes his flannel and his tee off, dropping them on the floor. he’s so delicious, honey skin stretching over tight, lean muscle, and his abs tense while you ogle him.
in a brief second, you’re pinned to the bed, jisung’s lips against yours. jisung always kisses filthy, tongue all over your lips and drool slicking down to your chin. you let him force his hands to your sleep shorts, and he’s impatient when he yanks them down, rings cold against your skin. you’re so whiplashed by the whole situation that you pull your t-shirt off yourself, breaking the kiss, and jisung looks like he’s about to cry.
“oh, baby,” he murmurs, eyes wide and fixated on your chest. your nipples pebble against the cool air and you can’t help but writhe on your bed, smiling bashfully at your boyfriend. before you can get insecure or even the slightest bit embarrassed jisung’s shoved his face in your chest with a deep exhale. his curly hair tickles you and you laugh, thighs kicking up. “daddy’s home, babies.”
“jisungie!” you slap him on the shoulder playfully, and he retreats with a little huff of amusement. finally, his eyes drop lower, and his hands smooth upwards on your thighs. he licks over his bottom lip, eyebrows raising, and then he’s slowly moving closer.
“mm, let me taste it first,” he murmurs, and you squeak when he wraps his hands underneath your asscheeks, yanking you down the bed. he wastes no time, curly strands covering his eyes as he smothers his face in your cunt. jisung’s a little theatrical when he eats you out, you think - he positively growls into your pussy and almost cums in his pants every time - but he swears its a reasonable reaction.
he swirls his tongue around your clit and then he’s pursing it between his pretty lips. he flicks it with the tip of his tongue, and you moan, high pitched and airy. when your hands move to his hair, tugging the strands a little, he finally sucks the bud hard. it feels like he’s driving you insane, your thighs twitching and brain floating off into a less embarrassed, entirely more horny headspace.
“a-ah! ah, daddy! daddy, my pussy, ‘s- daddy, more,” you whine, and he can’t deny you ever. his tongue flicks over your hole and then he licks a fat, wide stripe up your folds. his mouth dribbles your wetness as lubrication to dirty your pussy up even more, and it practically talks to jisung when he sucks your folds into his mouth. “more! moremoremore, gimme, gimme, pleaaaaase!”
fucking his tongue over your clit again, jisung growls, and the vibrations ring through your body like you’ve been struck by lightning. you grind your hips upwards into his mouth, and he only shakes his head against your pussy enthusiastically, smearing spit and slick over your heated skin.
“hnnfg- ahhhh! ah, my pussy! feels s’good, my pussy feels so good, jisungie, daddy,” you babble, drunk with it. jisung’s hips kick against the bed once, twice, and he whines against your pussy when you wrap one thigh around his pretty head to keep him smothered. you ride his face with it, and jisung just can’t - he can’t handle it, tapping your thigh incessantly in a wordless expression.
you unhook your leg from his head and he moves quickly, leaning over you to give you a chaste, wet kiss tasting entirely of you before he’s pushing you onto your side on the bed. he slides behind you, chest pressed up against your sweaty back, and you feel his cockhead rutting against your hole.
“i guh- i gotta fuck you now, i’m sorry, so sorry,” he’s ever so respectful, huffing out a breath against your shoulder. “c-condom? want me to- to use a condom, baby?”
“n-no,” you slur, pushing your hips backwards. you feel drunk on him, needing more than him to fuck your cock into you until you’re crying with it. “fuck me, please. p-please gimme it, sungie.”
he slides home in one thrust. jisung’s not huge - he has a delicious case of boyfriend dick, and the stretch is enough to make you gasp every time. you’re still not used to it, and you make an internal vow to fuck your boyfriend ten times more.
“see? you d-don’t- don’t have to be mean to me,” he whimpers at a particular slick thrust. his hand goes to your inner thigh, pushes your leg up at an angle that has you shaking, pussy squelching around his cock. “daddy will fuck you good, see? i can do it. i can do it.”
“yeah! yeah, mm- d-daddy can, daddy can,” you babble, hiccuping on a wet noise from your throat, and jisung groans. he shifts closer to you, grips your thigh a little harder, and the bite of his rings into your skin makes you gasp. his hair tickles yours on the back of your head, and then his spare hand shuffles from underneath your waist to your throat and grabs. you can’t help but keen. “daddy!”
“ssh, s-ssh,” jisung murmurs, and you have half a mind to tell him he’s being just as loud, if not worse. he’s panting and whimpering behind you, hips rutting his chubby cock into the slick hole you’ve provided for him. “baby, you’re fuckin’ wet. wet little hole, s-so- so little, so tight on my cock, i- fuck, baby. i c-can’t!”
he can, and he proves it by gripping your throat a little tighter, his balls slapping against you harder. the change in pace ruts his cockhead against that spongey spot inside of you and you wail with it, incoherent wet noises leaving your lungs.
“y-you’re fuckin’ my pussy so good, daddy,” you croon, eyes watery with it. he fucks you a bit harder in apology for your strained voice, but it only makes you moan louder, fingers moving upwards to grip the pillow under your head. you think you could rip it with how good he’s fucking you, and you feel his thighs bounce behind your legs to fuck you harder.
on a particularly wet thrust, jisung’s dick slips out of you, and you whine at the same time he does. he fucks it against your hole messily, trying to slide it back in, and he huffs impatiently. your hole gushes desperately, the wetness leaking onto where jisung bumps his cock into you, and it squelches messily.
“you’re too wet, she’s talkin’ to me,” he moans, but you know he loves it. you grind your ass against him a little more to tease him, and he sits upright sharply.
“sungie, no- no, keep trying, daddy!”
he tugs at your ankle impatiently and you flip onto your stomach, letting him crowd into your space. “c’mon, c’mon, baby,” he ushers, and you hear the slick sounds of him stripping his cock behind you. he whines with it, and then his spare hand taps your ass impatiently. “hands and knees. let daddy fuck you from behind, god, please.”
you have to. you’d do anything he wanted, and so you prop yourself up, back arching into a perfect position for him to slide back home. he can see a little better like this, and you fuck your ass back onto his cock for him to watch the slick slide of him entering you over and over. when he grips your ass, spreading your asscheeks for a better look, you hear him let out a stuttered breath and you know you don’t have much time left before he’s done.
“i gotta- baby, you gotta cum for me, yeah?” he says, quiet, and then he’s leaning over you. his chest presses against your back, and the sensation of your skin rubbing against his peaked nipples makes him lose concentration for a moment, steady pace haltering. “fuck! fuck, baby, you gotta cum, i’m gonna cum, i will-”
“d-daddy, please! i’ll try, i’ll try- i- i’ll be good, i’m good,” you babble, hand moving down to rub sticky circles on your clit. you use your wetness to lube it up a bit more, indirectly brushing against the base of jisung’s cock. jisung lets out a keen at the touch, his arms wrapping around your waist to bounce you backwards as he fucks into you. the pace gets quicker, and you feel his cock throbbing incessantly inside of you.
“still not used to fucking this cunt, n-not used to how perfect you are, baby,” jisung murmurs, and his language makes you gasp, gummy walls clenching down around his chubby shaft. “oh! oh, i don’t think i ever will be, baby, fucking clench on me again!”
you do, almost subconsciously with how your fingers speed up on your clit. it’s wet and messy with how much you’re gushing around him but the circles seem to be enough to get you close, your tits bouncing as you move on your boyfriend’s cock. before you know it, you’re cumming, a loud keen leaving your lips as you soak his shaft. you’re sure there’s a white ring of your cum forming at his base right now, soaking his pubic hair and dripping to his balls, and the thought makes you clench down harder.
“fuck! yeah, baby! that’s it, like that, clench on me, good g- oh, oh! oh, i’m gonna-”
his body practically collapses on you when he cums. you realise he must have been holding it back for a while because he wails too, cock pumping heavy loads of his cum inside of you. when you turn to him, his eyes are rolling back into his head, little pants of air leaving his lungs as he fills you up straight to your cervix.
thirty seconds later, jisung’s still collapsed on top of you, his head leaning on your shoulder.
“jisungie,” you say, and then you have to clear your throat. “jisungie. you okay there?”
“i think i died,” he mumbles, and a bit of drool leaks to your skin. you giggle, reaching back in an awkward position to ruffle his hair. “pussy’s too good. oh, when’s your roommate back?”
“um,” you blink at your laptop, still playing the movie from earlier. the device is hanging off if the bed and you make a conscious effort to kick it back on with your foot. regardless, it’s only been twenty minutes and you want to laugh. jisung’s just too sensitive - he always gets too worked up to go very long. “like, forty minutes or so.”
“ah, great, i’m not moving,” jisung cuddles closer to you, cock still soft and resting inside of your walls. after a short while, he inhales, and you feel his eyelashes tickling you as he blinks rapidly. “wait, we only fucked for twenty minutes?!”
you ruffle his hair again, a fond smile on your face. it’s an awkward position, but you’ll do it for your boy. “don’t worry about it, sungie.”
“mm,” he responds, unsatisfied. “fine, but next time we’re going for twenty hours.”
Author's Note: This is a continuation of Just Friends. A part two was asked for so here it is. I hope this does part one justice. I tried lol. Please read part one before continuing so that you get more context.
The house is dark and quiet when you and Jisung stumble through the front door. Not just because of the party still coursing through your body but more so because you can't keep your hands to yourself now that you've gotten a taste of him. He seems to be just as desperate for your mouth as you are for his.
His hands, fuck. His strong hands are everywhere. Gripping your ass, sliding up and under your shirt to get rid of the damned thing that keeps him from seeing your body. The only time he pulls away from your lips is to lift your shirt over your head. Once the two of you are in his room he tosses it somewhere, where it landed, you couldn't care. You pull his face back down to yours, kissing him like you'd die if you didn't. He moans on your lips when your needy hands find their way into his hair and pulls on the soft strands. All the while his fingers make quick work at popping the clasps on your red lace bra and freeing your heavy breasts. When Jisung pulls away from you it's a miracle that you even let him.
“I wanna see you, y/n. I wanna see all of you. I need to.” He tells you. His voice is soft but there's a hint of something more to it. Something so dominating that you have to force yourself to not throw yourself on him.
Stepping back at arms length from you he admires your breast and he practically drools over how big they are. Bigger than he could've imagined seeing them free from their confines. God the amount of times he pumped himself into his fist at night in this very room to the thought of leaving hickies all over your tits.
“Damn I'd let you suffocate me with those babies.” He says and you let out a surprised laugh.
Yup he's still your goofy best friend. Still you're relieved at how nothing has changed between the pair of you. That was your main worry about acting on your feelings. All your worries now however are out the window. Right now you wished he'd just fucking touch you again. You're dying to see what he tastes like, dying to see if you can make him come undone with just your tongue. That would have to wait as Jisung seems to have other things on his mind.
Without warning, he’s leading you backwards until the edge of the bed is at the back of your knees and with a cocky smirk he pushes you backwards onto your ass. You let out a soft oof and he hovers over you chuckling. The way your tits jiggle is a beautiful sight to him and he can't wait to watch them bounce while you ride him into the mattress.
As if you can read his mind, you lick your lips and with your index finger you beckon him but he isn't about to let you have control, not just yet. He's a hungry man going through the midnight munchies and he's got his mind set on something sweet. The only thing that will satisfy his craving is the sweet nectar of your cunt. Jisung gets down between your legs and rips your jeans down off, flinging them into the darkness of his room.
The only light comes from the glow of the full moon through the crack of his black curtains. He unwraps you like a greedy kid unwrapping his first candy bar after a night of trick or treating. You're naked in his bed now and he's looking up at you with such an intense stare. Wide brown boba eyes look at you, his face getting closer and closer to your sore and sensitive sex, thanks to the pounding he gave you fifteen minutes ago. When he's within an inch of your pussy he can still see remnants of his cum inside of you but it doesn't stop him.
“Let me taste you y/n. God I just wanna drink you, devour this pussy until your legs are shaking and you're screaming my name.”
He doesn't wait for your response. Whatever he's seen on your face is all the answer he needs. His tongue is lapping you up and he's teasing you with his thumb in a soft circular motion. The movement reminds you of the days that you and he would be stuck in here playing video games. You'd almost always lose or die, getting so distracted by his hands. The veins and the way he'd flick his thumb over the joystick almost exactly like he's doing to your clit right now.
He's so good at it too that after a minute your head is dropping back onto the mattress and your lids go heavy. Jisungs arms wraps around your thighs lifting them up to rest on his shoulders as he fucks you with his tongue. Pushing it in and out of you, licking you and down like ice cream on a cone. He tears himself away from your heat but his thumb keeps the same rhythm alternating between pressure and no pressure.
“Mmm baby, this pussy tastes so good. Y/n I want you to cum on my tongue. Can you do that for me beautiful?”
“F- fuck Ji. If you keep doing what you're doing, then I'm going to cum right now.” You moan arching your back.
You hear him chuckle and his face disappears once again, diving his tongue past your folds and consumes you. He doesn't stop, not even as your legs are shaking around him and the growls leaving him vibrates through you, only to bring you to your climax sooner rather than later. Your moans get caught in your throat leaving you a panting and crying mess on his bed. As much as he wanted you to ride him, he knows there'll be other opportunities, right now his cock is aching for you. Besides he can watch your tits bounce while he fucks the shit out of you. Your cries almost made him cum right along with you right there on his bedroom floor.
Crawling up onto the bed with you and keeping your legs right where they are, he slips his cock inside you while your body is still going through the aftershocks of your orgasm.
“Ah, Jisung.” You whine and gasp underneath him, the pressure feels so intense. He feels deeper this way and you feel fuller.
He takes the hem of his shirt in between his teeth and mumbles curses in both Korean and English biting down on the material hard. Just looking at you, so dazed and so thoroughly fucked is like one of his fantasies come to life. He just wants to cum inside you over and over all night. Eventually though, you'll leave his bed and if you two fuck again after tonight, when all logical thinking returns, he won't get to feel you how soft your walls are when they squeeze his cock again. It's why he's trying so damn hard to not cum right now.
He slows down, taking your legs and wraps them around his waist. Leaning down into you he takes one of your aching hard nipples in his mouth sucking and biting down gently and slowly fucks you. Pulling all the way out of you leaving just the tip in, he fucks you like that. Slow and never going more than an inch inside of your cunt while he edges the both of you. When he finally gives you every inch of him again, it's so sudden that you moan louder than you intended. You've tried to be quiet only so that Jisung's nosey neighbors don't over hear you two but fuck… He feels so incredible inside of you.
“Ji… oh God! I'm going to cum, babe. Faster please. Fuck me faster.” You beg.
He can't say no to you, not his sexy girl. He was dying for you to cum again so he could fill your pussy anyway. Resting one hand on the wall and the other beside your head he steadies himself and moves as fast as he can. His thrusts are frenzied, erratic, even a little crazed but he pounds the head of his cock into the sweet spot that has you seeing stars and leaving scratches all down his chest calling his name out over and over.
“Yeah that's my baby. Fuck, I love the way your pussy feels when you cum around me y/n. Ah, gonna fill you up y/n. Fuuuuck!”
His final thrust is so hard, you’re certain he bruised your cervix. It hurts so good and you can feel it when he shoots his seed inside of you. You watch his face as he shoots ropes after ropes of cum inside your throbbing cunt as it contracts around him. This beautiful pained expression on his face as he bites down on his bottom lip. His brows furrowed and his small perfect pink lips part letting his moans and huffs out. As his breathing slows you reach a hand up, brushing his dark hair away from his sweaty forehead. Opening his eyes he smiles shyly, pecking you on the lips, still buried inside of you.
He doesn't want to move, he can't, not until he has to, he wants you again and again. He wants to take his time with you. But time isn't on either side of yours tonight. His parents would be home soon and you needed to be out of there before you two get caught, quite literally with your pants down. Slow kisses however, only stirs up things and Jisung is moving again.
He takes his time like he wanted, fucking you slowly, a lazy pace almost as if he’s making love to you. Your bodies are pressed so close together but it's not enough for him. Jisung wraps you up into his arms, holding you closer, hugging you tighter, moving in and out. Pushing inside of your sloping wet cunt as far as he can. His cum, still warm inside of you, only makes things more slippery, easier to move inside of you with barely any effort.
You feel your third orgasm building up inside of you. Starting from your legs, moving up and up until you come crashing down. Your moans are lost in his kisses this time and when he cums his entire body shakes. Sex with Jisung this way, you feel pleasure all over. He sighs looking down at you and for a second he just holds your stare. Very quietly he whispers, “I love you y/n. Always have since you kicked my ass in dodgeball in middle school.”
When you giggle he groans, feeling your body shake while he's still inside you. His cock is far too sensitive to pull out just yet.
“I love you too Jisung.” You whisper, “Now pull out so we can change your sheets before your parents get home. We've made a mess.”
He chuckles doing what you asked but he doesn't let you go far. He hasn't let you go far since and now as his wife, there's no way in hell that he will ever let you go.
The End♡
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