hanji

still yet to find his way through the stars

[myprwttyhan]

Welcome to Hanji’s Navi-!

about me ᝰ.ᐟ hi~ i go by Hanji im 20yo and okay with any pronouns!◝‿◜

[please read; if you see me liking your posts that means i'm saving them for later. i have adhd so i cant keep up with so many fics/words at a time, but i promise i do reblog+comment when i read them!>< thank you for understanding.]

what i like ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ .ᐟ.ᐟ

my (recent) ults!! day6–skz–svt–hwang minhyun˖ ᡣ𐭩

i love-stan .ᐟ.ᐟ txt–enha–ateez–gidle–ive–newjeans–eaj–lesserafim–lee jaewook~✮⋆˙

ೀ.ᐟ⭒๋࣭ ⭑🖇 i wanna tell u abt my biases but first of all, i dont see jisung as my bias. he became a part of me. he is a priority in my life, he is my everything, my big bro, my bf, my best friend, my comfort place, my home.^^

besides that, I LOVE TIGER GUY. ఇ◝‿◜ఇ,,,,, i'm in love with lee jihoon & boo seungkwan. i love&adore seungcheol, vernon, hao and dino soooooo much! they bring me so much comfort. (i'm on the verge of being a ot13 carat)

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

this is my reading blog, i only post and talk about kpop. but in the future i might write some drabbles-fics hehe ς(>‿<.) ₊⊹

you can find my dead blog hereㅠㅠ

feel free to send me ask—dm!^^

ji’s favs.ᐟ.ᐟ>ᴗ<

[i will edit here later]

[ghostlyscripture]

hypotheticals.

synopsis: jisung is obsessed. you’re so perfect, so pretty—how could anyone blame him? he’s so certain that you’ve been used before, that you’ve been taken care of. that being said, you can only imagine the surprise he was in once he’s found out no one’s ever showed you what bliss feels like.

pairing: perv!sung x inexperienced f!reader genre: smut, college au contains: jisung being kinda gross + incredibly horny, soft dom!jisung, lots of kissing, biting, oral fixation, tit play, oral sex (f!receiving), pet names (baby, jagi, rockstar), coming untouched word count: 6.3k

now playing: southbound - artemis

[a/n]: i LOVE this fic sm you don’t even understaaaand. alsooo i got a request a few days ago for dom!jisung, and i know this isn’t hard dom ji BUT that is coming soon, and i hope this is enough to satiate you while i get it done !! enjoy :D

jisung doesn’t remember the last the he’s listed so intently to someone talk.

honestly, jisung’s never really been one to actively listen, but fuck- there was just something about the way your lips move around each spoken word that makes it so ungodly difficult to pay attention to anything else.

it doesn’t help that he’s had his eyes on you for longer than he could remember. ever since the first day you strolled into to his music theory class at the start of the semester, jisung has been, for lack of better words,dying to get his hands on you.

there’s just this… itch whenever he’s around you. it’s bone deep, too far below the skin to be satisfied easily. you’re just so perfect— kind, funny without even trying. and don’t even get him started on how good you are in the recording studio. jisung didn’t even know he could get turned on from watching someone mix a beat. but hey, they say college is where you learn things, right?

and trust, jisung has learned a lot.

for example: jisung has learned that he’s a dirty fucking perv.

an example of the example: there have been numerous times when you’ve been ranting about how bullshit your biased professor is—how he never grades your work fairly no matter how hard you work on it—and jisung will sit there wondering if your as expressive in bed as you are here.

he hopes you are. god, he would lose his mind…

speaking of you in bed, jisung has thought of you with his hand down his pants more often than anyone would constitute as normal. but honestly, can you even blame him?

you laugh at his jokes with a smile that makes his chest tight, and you somehow manage to smell like vanilla and something sweeter every single time you lean over his shoulder to look at his laptop screen.

it's honestly a miracle he hasn't combusted yet.

well, he has. many times, actually. but you get what he means.

but today? today is different.

today you're sitting cross-legged on his bed (his bed, jesus christ), textbook open in your lap as you complain about your latest assignment, and jisung is trying his absolute hardest to focus on his own textbook.

try as he might, all he can think about is how easy it would be to close the distance between you two. how easy it would be to kiss you, to make you let out pretty little noises, to force his cock down your throat and—

“hey ji,” you say suddenly, snapping him out of his daze. he sends a quick thank you to whatever higher being there may be that you hadn’t caught his staring. “can i talk to you about something?”

jisung looks up from where he’s sitting on the floor with a grin as if he hadn’t just been picturing the 69 different ways (pun intended) he could get you to take him. “sure.”

he watches as you take a deep breath, clearly debating on following through on whatever subject was on your mind. when another second ticked by without a response he arched a brow, fixing you with a look in hopes it would push you to hurry up.

you see it and promptly stick your tongue out at him. you both smile. you let out another exhale.

"i, uh…" you start, and jisung notices the way your cheeks flush slightly. "i went on a date last night. it was nothing like, crazy, yknow? just something a friend of mind set up."

oh.

jisung's stomach drops.

awesome.

"oh yeah?" he manages, keeping his voice in a careful neutral even though he feels like he's been kicked in the chest by some fuckass kangaroo. “and how’d that go?"

does he actually care? hell no. is he trying to be a good friend? sure, keyword there being trying.

you fidget with the corner of your textbook. "it was… fine, i guess? he was nice enough. we got dinner, talked for a bit." you pause, and jisung watches as your blush deepens. "and then we, you know… went back to his place."

jisung's grip on his pen tightens. he's not sure he wants to hear this, but he can't exactly tell you to stop now.

"and?" he prompts, hating how strained his voice sounds.

you let out a frustrated sigh. "and it was… underwhelming? like, really underwhelming." you're not looking at him now, focused instead on picking at a loose thread on his comforter. "we fooled around a bit, and he seemed really into it, but i just… i don't know. i didn't feel much of anything."

"what do you mean?" he's not sure if the relief flooding through him makes him a terrible person or not. his vote is no.

"i mean…" you trail off, clearly embarrassed. "he tried, like, touching me and stuff. it just felt… weird? not bad, just- nothing special, i guess. and then when things got more intense, i just kind of laid there thinking about my grocery list."

despite everything, jisung lets out a laugh. it’s short, cut off by the glare you shot his way.

"and the worst part," you continue, voice getting quieter, "is that he finished and then just… rolled over and fell asleep. didn't even care if i, you know…" you let make a vague gesture with your hand to make up for your lack of words.

"if you came?" jisung supplies, watching you nod a moment later.

"yeah. that." you finally look up at him. "is it supposed to be like that? because if so, i really don't get what all the hype is about."

jisung feels something twist in his chest—something between anger at the asshole who couldn't be bothered to take care of you and a dangerous, selfish hope. "no," he says, and his voice comes out a little sharper than he intended. "it's definitely not supposed to be like that."

"really?" you raise a brow, tone unamused and doubtful.

"really," jisung confirms, and before he can stop himself, he adds, "if a guy can't even make sure you finish, he doesn't deserve to touch you in the first place."

you laugh, but it's a hollow sound. "i mean, i don't know if i'd even know the difference." you shrug, trying to play it off casually even though jisung can see the genuine frustration in your eyes. "it's not like i've ever… y’know. gotten off before."

a beat passes.

jisung blinks. "wait, what?"

"yeah," you say, picking at the thread again. "not from someone else, not from myself. nothing."

"but—" jisung stops himself, trying to process this information. "didn't you have a boyfriend in high school?"

"yeah, for like a year and a half," you confirm. "but that doesn't mean i came. we fooled around, sure, but it never really… went anywhere for me."

jisung feels like his brain is short-circuiting. you—perfect, beautiful you—have never experienced an orgasm? it seems almost criminal.

"i think maybe i'm just not built for it," you continue, voice small. "like, maybe i'm just… glitched or something. everyone talks about how amazing it is, but i just don't get it."

"you're not glitched," jisung says immediately, more forceful than necessary. you look up at him, surprised. "trust me, you're not. you just… haven't been with anyone who knows what they're doing."

"maybe," you say, though you don't sound convinced.

jisung swallows hard.

his heart is pounding, and he knows what he's about to say is probably crossing a line, but he can't seem to stop himself. "if you want a second opinion…" he starts, trying to keep his tone light even though his hands are shaking slightly. "i volunteer as tribute."

the silence that follows is deafening.

you stare at him, eyes wide, and jisung immediately wants to take it back—except he doesn't. not really.

“i-“ you start before choking on your own words. you blink at him a few times, trying to gauge how serious he’s being. “what?”

jisung realizes what hes just said and immediately feels his face heat up.

he holds up his hands in a gesture that's somewhere between defensive and pleading. "i mean- say we’re working in hypotheticals here, yeah?" he says quickly, voice pitching slightly higher than normal. "just, you know, theoretically speaking. if you wanted to figure out what works for you."

you're still staring at him, and jisung can't tell if you're about to laugh in his face or leave. probably both. definitely both.

"i just mean, you said you don't know what you like, right? so maybe—hypothetically—it would help to, i don’t know- explore that?? with someone you trust. who wouldn't be weird about it."

he pauses, then adds, "or weirder than i'm already being right now."

you let out a breath that might've be a laugh, and some of the tension in jisung's shoulders eases. at least you're not running for the door.

"okay," you say slowly, and jisung's heart jumps into his throat. "hypothetically speaking… what would that even look like?"

blood rushes to his dick so fast that he genuinely feel faint for a solid second or two.

this is happening. this is actually happening.

"well, uh," he clears his throat. "i guess first we'd need to figure out what you like. what feels good to you."

"i don't know what i like," you point out. "that's kind of the whole problem here."

"right, but like-" jisung stands, taking a gamble by moving from the floor to sit with you on the bed. he takes the edge, but still manages to get close enough that his knee almost touches yours. he has half the thought of cheering when you don’t immediately jolt away. "there has to be something. like, when you think about… that stuff. what do you think about?"

your blush deepens as you look away. jisung wants to grab you by the cheeks and shove his tongue down your throat.

"i don't know. i guess i don't really think about it much."

"okay, but when you do," jisung presses, far too eager "what's the first thing that comes to mind? is it like… hands? mouths? something else?"

"i- i guess mouths? that’s a stupid way to put it, jisung." your eyes dart over to him for all of two seconds before flicking away again. “i like being kissed. and when people leave marks.”

jisung’s going to bust in his sweats.

he nods slowly, stashing away the information for it’s inevitable later use. "okay. that's good. that's a start." he pauses before asking "what about where? where would you wanna be kissed?"

your head tilts to the side slightly as you debate. it takes a minute for you to make up your mind, a minute that jisung’s spends memorizing the curve of your lips.

“my thighs. i like my neck and my tits, too, but my thighs.”

ok. scratch what he said before. he’s actually going to pass out, wake up for two seconds to jerk off, and then pass out again from how intense it’ll be.

“fuck” he breaths out with a laugh—half breathless humor, half utter strain. jisung raises a hand to run down his face, looking away from you to try and save himself even a little bit.

"okay," he says once he's collected himself enough to form coherent words. "okay, so, hypothetically, if we were doing this, i'd start there. with your thighs." he looks back at you, trying his best to gauge your reaction. "would that be… okay?"

jisung watches the way your eyes skim over him and highly considers throwing himself off the roof of his dorm when your gaze catches on the tent in his sweat pants.

“i like it more when people work their way down.” you meet his eye again and he feels his dick twitch to attention.

jisung's mouth goes dry. the casual way you say it—like you're discussing the weather and not actively trying to kill him—makes his head spin.

"work my way down," he repeats li. "from your neck?"

“my mouth.” you correct.

it takes a few seconds for jisung’s brain to catch up to what you were saying. when ir finally registered, jisung let out a heavy breath.

“y-you want me to kiss you?”

"i mean… yeah?" you say, and there's a hint of uncertainty in your voice. "isn't that where you're supposed to start?"

jisung lets out a breathy laugh, running a hand through his hair. "yeah, no, you're right. i just-" he stops himself, looking at you with an intensity that makes your stomach flip. "i just need to know you're actually okay with this. like, seriously okay. because once i start, i don't know if i'll be able to stop."

despite everything making up your current situation, you can’t help the laugh that pushes itself from your lips.

“jesus, sung- please don’t tell me you learned that from a bad porno.”

jisung's face flushes, but he can't help the grin that tugs at his lips. "fuck off," he mutters, but there's no real heat behind it. "i'm trying to be respectful here."

"i know," you say, and your expression softens. "and i appreciate it. but i'm serious, jisung. i want this. hypothetically, of course.”

jisung doesn't waste another second.

he closes the distance between you, one hand coming up to cup your jaw while the other braces against the mattress beside your hip. his thumb brushes along your cheekbone, and for a moment he just looks at you—really looks at you—trying to memorize every detail of your face before he gets what he's been craving for so long.

"tell me to stop if you need to," he murmurs, knowing damn well he won't be able to give this up. not now. not when you're looking at him like that.

he closes the gap completely, pressing his lips to yours.

and god, you're even better than he imagined.

and trust, he's imagined this—fuck, has he imagined this. a thousand times, maybe more. but none of his fantasies come close to the real thing. your mouth is soft and warm, and the little sound you make when he deepens the kiss goes straight to his cock.

you make that sound again—that small, needy noise in the back of your throat—and jisung responds on instinct, tilting your head slightly to get a better angle.

his tongue traces the seam of your lips, and when you open for him, he can't help the groan that escapes. he groans—actually groans—into your mouth, and he'd be embarrassed if he could think straight.

but he can't. because this is intoxicating. you’re intoxicating.

the way you taste, sweet and perfect. the way his hand slides from your jaw to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair like they were made to be there. the way his other hand finds your waist, pulling you closer until there's barely any space left between your bodies and he can feel your heartbeat against his chest.

you've been kissed before, he knows that,but jisung wants to make you forget every single one of those losers you’d had before him. wants this to be the one you remember.

he puts everything into it, every press of his lips deliberate, purposeful, trying to learn exactly what makes you melt against him.

he knows he’s reached some sort of heaven when he feels you starting to go pliant in his hands.

jisung pulls back just enough to catch his breath, resting his forehead against yours. his eyes are dark, blown wide. he can feel how swollen his lips are already.

"fuck," he breathes, voice absolutely wrecked. "you taste so good." he doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s kissing you again, harder than before.

leave it to jisung to get turned on by how sweet your spit tastes.

his hand tightens in your hair—not enough to hurt, just enough to make you gasp—and takes full advantage of how your lips part, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes him dizzy with want.

you grab onto his shirt, fingers twisting in the fabric, and jisung feels like he might actually lose his mind.

everything about this is overwhelming in the best possible way—the warmth of your body pressed against his, the way you respond when his thumb strokes the sensitive skin at your nape, the little sounds you make as you kiss him back just as eagerly. he wants to catalog every single detail, burn it into his memory so it’s humanly impossible to forget.

his hand on your waist starts to wander, sliding down to your hip and squeezing. it isn’t a rough gesture, more so just to ground himself, to remind himself that this is all real. that this isn’t just another one of his twisted dreams.

he breaks the kiss to trail his lips along your jaw, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the corner of your mouth, your cheek, the spot just below your ear that makes you shiver.

"tell me if this is okay," he murmurs against your skin. he gets a strange high from the way your quickens pulse under his lips.

"it's okay," you manage, voice breathier than usual. "it's really okay."

jisung makes a satisfied sound deep in his throat, then goes back to kissing you properly. this time he forces himself to slow down, to be more deliberate.

he takes his time exploring your mouth, learning the way you respond to him—the way you whimper when he sucks on your bottom lip, the way you smile against his mouth when he does something you particularly like.

"you're so fucking cute," he mumbles, pulling back just enough to look at you. his eyes are soft, a little to innocent for the way he’s currently handling you. "been wanting to do this for so long."

"yeah?"

"fuck yeah," he responds with a laugh that’s only slightly crazed.

you never get the chance to ask exactly how long he's wanted this, how many nights he's fallen asleep thinking about it—about you. and honestly? you aren’t even sure you’d want that answer. it feels to heavy, too weighted with significance.

minutes pass. you’re not sure how many, neither is jisung. all you know is that he kisses you until your lips feel bruised under his and his head is spinning from lack of oxygen.

his hands roam more carefully now—not respectful, but not outright pushy. there’s enough intent in each brush that you can feel the restrained want in every touch. he palms your hip, traces the curve of your waist, thumbs at the silver of skin where your shirt has ridden up.

when he finally pulls away, you're both breathing hard.

his hair is a mess from where you've been running your fingers through it. when he catches sight of your lips—red and swollen from his kisses—he has to physically restrain himself from crashing back into you again

"we should…" he starts, then stops. he swallows hard. "we should probably slow down."

you blink at him, still a little dazed. "why?"

"because if we don't, i'm gonna fucking come in my pants," jisung admits with a breathless laugh. it's embarrassing but true—he's already painfully hard, and every little sound, every shift, brings him closer to that edge.

the way you're looking at him makes his chest tight. at the same time though, he's acutely aware of how you're still pressed against him, addicted to the heat radiating off your body.

"what if i don't want you to slow down?" you ask, and the boldness in your voice very nearly enough to do him in on the spot.

"don't say shit like that unless you mean it."

"i do," you say, and then you're leaning in and kissing him again.

this time, jisung doesn't hold back. he kisses you like he's trying to devour you, one hand sliding up your back to press you closer while the other grips your hip hard enough to leave marks. you can probably feel how hard he is, pressed against your thigh, and the knowledge that you know how badly he wants you makes his head spin.

you shift slightly, and jisung groans into your mouth, his hips jerking forward before he can stop himself. "fuck," he gasps, breaking the kiss. "you're gonna kill me."

"good," you manage, then kiss him again before he can respond.

jisung lets out a breathless laugh against your lips before shifting his weight, gently pushing you back until you're lying on the bed with him hovering over you.

the new position makes everything feel more intense—the way he's pressed between your thighs in a way that lets you feel how hard he is, the way his weight settles over you, the way you're looking up at him like he's the only thing in the world that matters.

"hi," he says, grinning down at you despite how wrecked he feels.

"hi," you echo, and the smile you give him back makes his heart stutter.

and then his lips are on yours yet again .

his mouth moves against yours with an ease that surprises him—like he's already learned exactly what makes you gasp and whimper. when he nips at your bottom lip, you arch up against him, and jisung makes a choked sound in response, barely holding himself together.

"you're so responsive," he murmurs against your mouth. "so fucking perfect. just how i thought you'd be."

his hand slides up your side, thumbing just under the curve of your breast, and jisung realizes with startling clarity that he needs more. needs to feel your skin against his, needs to map every inch of your body with his hands and mouth.

as if reading his mind, you reach up and push at his shoulder, urging him downward. "you said you'd work your way down, remember?"

jisung's breath catches and for a moment he just stares at you. a slow grin spreads across his face—the kind he knows is absolutely devastating.

"yeah," he says, voice rough. "yeah, i did say that, didn't i?"

he leans down to kiss you one more time, slow and deep, savoring it. promptly after, he starts trailing his lips along your jaw, taking his time. he presses open-mouth kisses to every inch of skin he can reach, committing the taste of your skin to memory.

when he gets to the spot just below your ear, he pauses for only a moment before taking the skin there between his teeth, sucking a mark into the sensitive patch.

you gasp, fingers tightening in his hair enough for jisung to make a satisfied sound. "gonna mark you up so good," he murmurs against your neck, lips hot as they brush against your skin. "want everyone to know you're mine."

the possessiveness in his own voice should probably alarm him, but he's too far gone to care.

you tilt your head to give him better access, and jisung takes full advantage, working his way down your neck with single-minded focus. this is all he's been dreaming about—getting to worship you like this, getting to make you feel good.

he sucks another mark just above your collarbone, then soothes it with his tongue. the whimper you make goes straight to his cock. jisung smiles against your skin.

"you sound so pretty," he says, voice muffled against your neck. "wanna hear what other sounds you make, jagi"

his hand comes up to rest on your ribs, thumb brushing against the underside of your breast. when you arch into the touch jisung can’t help his groan, pressing his hips down against yours just because he can.

the friction makes you both gasp.

"fuck," comes his his, the word hot on your skin as he continues his path downward.

jisung kisses along your collarbone, then down to the neckline of your shirt. he pauses there, looking up at you with eyes that are wide and begging. "can i?"

instead of granting him with a verbal answer, you reach down and grab the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head in one swift motion.

jisung's eyes go wide, gaze immediately dropping to your chest.

over the span of five seconds, jisungs mouth goes from being as dry as a desert to his throat bobbing as he swallows down his own spit.

"holy shit.." he whispers, voice dripping with reverence. his hands come up to cup your breasts over your bra, thumbs brushing over your nipples through the fabric. "you're so fucking... fuck, baby- your perfect"

you squirm under the attention, and jisung only takes it as encouragement. he leans down to press his face between to the swell of your breasts, a groan rolling soft in the back of his throat before kissing down to your sternum. his hands stay on you, kneading mindlessly and without much care.

jisung thinks he might actually be in heaven.

and then you’re thread your fingers through his hair again pushing, deliberately, purposefully, until his face is buried in your chest.

jisung groans loud this time, breath coming out hot against your skin. "so eager," he murmurs in pure appreciation, a hand sliding around to your back to find the clasp of your bra. "what a rockstar- i fucking love it."

you arch to help him and jisung makes quick work of the clasp, tossing the fabric across the room without a second thought.

for a moment, jisung just stares.

his eyes are wide with hunger as they trace over your newly exposed skin. he's imagined this so many times, but nothing compares to actually seeing you like this.

then he's leaning down, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses across your chest, hands coming up to cup your breasts properly now that that last barrier is gone.

"so fucking perfect," he breathes against your skin, thumbs circling your nipples in a way that makes you arch up into his touch.

"god, i could live between your tits," jisung breathes out, voice rough rough around the edges while his hands continue to knead at you. "been thinking about this for months—how they'd feel in my hands, how they'd look covered in my cum, how fucking perfect they'd look bouncin’ in my face while you ride me." he groans, burying his face between them again like he can't help himself. "never gonna take my hands off of ya, jagi. can’t do it…"

then he takes one nipple into his mouth, and the cry you let out nearly makes him come on the spot.

jisung circles the sensitive bud with his tongue before sucking hard enough to make you writhe beneath him. his other hand works your other breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger in a rhythm that matches his mouth.

he gets so lost in it that he almost forgets he isn’t dreaming. the only thing that snaps him back is the sound of his name on your lips.

"jisung," you gasp, and he hums in response, the vibration making you shudder beneath him.

he switches sides, giving your other breast the same devoted attention.

jisung can feel himself getting harder with every passing second, can feel how wet you must be through the fabric still between you. your thighs squeeze around his hips, and jisung grinds down against you in response, unable to help himself.

but the friction isn't enough—not for either of you—and when you roll your hips in a search for more, jisung breaks away from your chest with a sharp inhale.

his forehead drops to rest against your sternum as he tries to catch his breath and regain some semblance of control.

"you're driving me insane," he mutters, voice strained. his hands slide down your sides, fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants. he looks up at you, eyes dark and pupils blown wide, barely holding himself together. "can i take these off?"

"please," you breathe, and jisung doesn't need to be told twice.

he sits back on his heels, making quick work of your pants and underwear in one smooth motion.

the cool air hits your heated skin, and jisung's hands are immediately there, warm and grounding as they run up your thighs. he takes a moment to just look at you—all of you—spread out on his bed, and he thinks he might actually die from want.

"fuck," he says, voice raw. he drags a thumb through your folds "look at you. so wet already."

the embarrassment that flashes across your face makes jisung's chest tighten. he immediately leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your knee. "don't," he says gently, meaning it. "don't be embarrassed. this is so fucking hot. you're so fucking hot."

his hands massage your thighs, slowly pushing them apart, and blacks out when you just let him.

the sight of you all vulnerable and trusting, turned on and willing, is almost too much. he settles between your legs, and the reality that he's finally here, that this is actually happening, sends a sick thrill through him.

"i'm gonna make you feel so good," jisung promises, his breath ghosting over your inner thigh, pressing a lingering kiss there. he means it with everything in him. "gonna make you come so hard you forget your own name."

he continues with pressing kisses to yout thigh, taking his sweet time even though every instinct is screaming at him to rush. every press of his lips against your skin makes his own arousal spike higher, and by the time he reaches the crease where your thigh meets your hip, jisung's hands are shaking.

"jisung," you whimper, and the sound goes straight to his cock.

"i know, baby," he murmurs, pressing another kiss to your hip bone. "just wanna savor this. been dreamin’ bout having you like this."

he presses one more kiss to your hip bone, and then—finally, finally—jisung lets himself taste you properly.

his tongue slides through your folds in one long, slow lick, and the taste of you combined with the way your back arches off the bed, pussy pressing to his face, makes him moan.

"oh my god," you gasp, hands flying down to tangle in his hair.

jisung moans again, the sound vibrating through your core. "taste so fucking good," he mumbles, addicted. then he goes back to work with the single minded focus of making good on his promise.

he eats you out like it's his sole purpose in life—because right now, it is.

jisung’s been starving for this, and now that he finally has you, jisung loses himself completely.

his tongue circles your clit before he sucks it between his lips, and the way you respond? the sounds you make? the way your hips rock up against his face? it’s better than anything he's ever imagined.

and believe him, he’s imagined.

jisung's hands grip your thighs, holding you open as he works you over, trying to memorize every sound, every reaction. when he slides one finger inside you, slow and careful, you cry out, fingers tightening almost painfully in his hair.

"that okay?" he asks, pulling back just enough to speak.

when your eyes meet his you’re met with the sight of his face glistening with you, lips swollen and chin shiny. you have to swallow down a whine before you can mutter a small “fuck, yes, please-“

jisung grins—he can't help it—then goes back to sucking on your clit while his finger pumps in and out of you. the dual sensation is overwhelming for the both of you, albeit for wildly different reasons. for you, it’s the way he uses his tongue so fucking well, the wet, warm heat pressing flat against your clit so you can grind against his face to chase your own stimulation. for him? it’s how fucking sweet you are, how your walls flutter when he hits that spot that’s always just a little too far for you to reach on your own.

"jisung," you gasp. "i think- i think i'm—"

"yeah?" he purrs, adding a second finger and curling them in a way that leaves you breathless and seeing stars. "gonna come for me, rockstar? gonna come all over my fingers?"

the words combined with the relentless pleasure seem to push you right to the edge. when jisung takes your clit between his lips again, sucking hard, you fall apart, and jisung thinks he's never seen anything more beautiful.

your orgasm crashes over you in waves, waves jisung does his best to help work you through. his own pleasure spikes high as he watches you come undone.

your whole body seems to tense, thighs clamping around his head as you shake with aftershocks of it. he can hear you making noise—probably too much noise considering dorm walls are comically thin—but he fucking loves it, wants to hear it again and again.

jisung gentles his movements as you come down, not stopping until you're pushing at his head because it's too much, too sensitive.

he presses one last kiss to your swollen clit before sitting up, looking just as wrecked as you do. his hair a mess, lips swollen and wet, and he’s looking at you like you hung the damn moon. because fuck, that was the hottest thing he's ever done. sue him.

"holy shit," you breathe, and jisung feels a surge of satisfaction at how completely undone you look.

jisung crawls back up your body, pressing kisses to your stomach, your ribs, the valley between your breasts, before finally reaching your mouth. he kisses you deep, tongue sliding against yours in attempt to get you to taste yourself too.

"good?" he asks when he pulls back, and there's something vulnerable in the question. he needs to know you felt as good as he thinks you did, that he didn't disappoint you.

"so good," you assure him, reaching up to cup his face. "that was… i've never-"

"i know," he says softly, pressing a kiss to your palm. pride blooms warm in his chest. "first time for everything, right?"

you nod, still a little dazed, and jisung smiles. it's different from his earlier grins—softer, more genuine.

it’s only when he shifts his weight in discomfort that you realize how there’s still a devilish tent in his sweats. he catches the way your eyes drop, and immediately try and brush it off.

"don't worry bout me," he manages, even though his voice is strained and every nerve in his body is screaming for more.

"what about you?" you ask, and then your hand is on him, palming him through the fabric. jisung hisses, hips jerking forward into your touch before he can stop himself.

"i want to," you insist when he doesn’t reply, squeezing gently, and jisung nearly blacks out.

"baby- baby, fuck—" jisung whines, his hand shooting down to wrap around your wrist. he pushes your hand away as his head falls forward, sucking in heavy breaths between his teeth. he can feel the wet patch spreading across the front of his sweats, the aftermath of what just happened.

"i already- i already came, baby-"

you blink, processing his words. "you… already?"

jisung lets out a breathless laugh, cheeks flushing pink as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. he's embarrassed but also not because holy shit it was the most ‘worth it’ thing he’s ever done in his life.

"couldn't help it," he mumbles against your skin, words muffled. "you tasted so fucking good, and the sounds you were making?? fuck jagi, i didn't stand a chance."

your hands slowly raise to thread through the strands of his hair as if it wasn’t mussed up enough, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. jisung practically purrs at the touch.

"that's really hot, actually," you admit.

jisung lifts his head to look at you, searching your expression for any sign of disappointment or disgust. but all he sees is warmth, and something tender that makes his heart skip. "yeah?"

"yeah," you confirm, pulling him down for a slow, deep kiss. when you break apart, you're both smiling, and jisung feels something settle in his chest. it feels a lot like contentment.

"we should probably clean up," jisung murmurs after a moment, though he makes no move to actually get up. he's too comfortable like this, wrapped around you, feeling your heartbeat slowly return to normal beneath him.

"probably," you agree, but you don't move either.

jisung chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. "give me like, five minutes. then i'll get us a towel."

"five minutes," you repeat, fingers still playing with his hair in that way that makes him want to fall asleep right here.

but after a moment, reality starts creeping back in. jisung shifts, wincing slightly at the uncomfortable dampness in his boxers. "okay, actually i really need to change like, right now."

you laugh he reluctantly pulls away, watching as he stands on slightly shaky legs. you watch him with hooded eyes as he strips off his ruined sweats and boxers, tossing them into his laundry basket before grabbing a clean pair of sweatpants from his drawer.

"here," he says, pulling out one of his oversized hoodies and tossing it to you. "you can wear this if you want."

you slip it on while jisung grabs a damp towel from his bathroom.

he comes back to find you sitting up, his hoodie falling to your mid-thigh, and he has to take a moment to breathe and not pounce on you like a wild animal and fuck you right then and there.

"c'mere," he says softly, sitting beside you. he gently cleans you up, his touch careful and intimate in a different way than before. when he's done, he tosses the towel aside and pulls you back against him.

"soooo, that was..."

"yeah," jisung agrees, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "it really was."

perm. taglist: @interdimensionaldrunk @ihrtlix @elylyyy @catermybeloved @hanjisngs @not2bh0rnyonmain @mingislightlybiggerfrontooth @nightmarenyxx @hanjisunnnng @tricky-ritz @enhacolor @enhaskzverse @leenoknow143 @alondra6011 @honeyyyy21 @leewayout @youhoneybee fic taglist: @elliotstarx7

[soyongdorigyu]

eyes don’t lie || kmg & csc

TITLE: eyes don’t lie

PAIRING: Boyfriend!Mingyu x Reader (ft. Boyfriend’s Best Friend!Seungcheol)

TAGS: Plot? What Plot???

WARNINGS: Explicit Language, Smut (18+, MDNI, Blame CK, BOSS, and the CXM unit drop), Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Oral Sex (m and f receiving), Praise Kink, Mildly Homoerotic Themes (Like if you think real hard about it…), Panty-sniffing (I get worse with every tag), Panty-licking (damn it), Drugs mentioned (not usage? Just Cheol being addicted to puss— *gets shot*), Overstimulation, Dacryphilia, Rough Sex, Mentions of Safeword (not used), D/S dynamic implied but in my heart they’re both switches, Objectification, Degradation (Every time I add a tag, I lose langit points), Mild Corruption Kink, Brat-tamer!Cheol agenda, Squirting (the other tags make this look tame)

WC: 6.9k (LMAO that number was not intentional, but it manifested itself somehow)

SUMMARY: Because no matter how good of a friend Choi Seungcheol pretended to be, the hunger in his eyes when he looked your way would always give him away.

A/N: The Damn Right sequel y’all asked for 🥹🫶. No need to read that to understand this (there is no plot in this or that 😭).

This isn’t Seungcheol’s first time doing this shit with Mingyu.

They’ve done this before, when they were still younger, more reckless: two guys, one lucky girl, and a night of mind-numbing marathon sex. Those nights always left them reeling with a high that couldn’t be matched. They did all of it together, the touching, the manhandling, the hard fucking—

Unfortunately, Seungcheol is confined to watching this time around.

Because Kim Mingyu, despite his gentle nature, could be a territorial piece of shit. Not jealous, no, territorial. While that man could not care less about all the other girls, you were the exception. You weren’t like the women whose names and faces both Mingyu and Seungcheol couldn’t even remember. You were the girlfriend, the girl that Mingyu’s been pining after for years, the girl that Mingyu’s probably going to propose to and eventually marry—

So why the fuck would Seungcheol be involved in this pseudo-threesome if Mingyu was that possessive?

Simple.

Because Kim Mingyu, despite his territorial nature, was a piece of shit who loved to show off. From face, money, to body, Mingyu had a natural aura of flashyness that bordered on exhibitionism.

Asshole.

Seungcheol’s on an armchair, the kind that only cucks sit in, and from here, he has a perfect view of the way Mingyu sits on the edge of the bed with you on his lap. The lights are low, but Seungcheol finds that it only adds to the lust that hangs heavily in the air.

Mingyu’s shirtless—Seungcheol doesn’t give a shit, he is too—and you’re scantily clad in cherry-red lingerie that’s a stark contrast to the way you’re shyly covering your face. You strike that perfect balance of corruptible and cock-hungry, and it has Seungcheol wanting to just grab you by the hair and fuck you from the back like he’s been wanting to since you entered the gym that he and Mingyu owned.

They shared girls and businesses, so why the fuck couldn’t Mingyu share you?

(But deep inside, Seungcheol knows that if he had a girl like you, he’d be just as possessive, if not worse.)

“Don’t be shy now, baby,” Mingyu coos into your ear, large hands rubbing up and down your waist as he presses soothing kisses against your neck. “Hyung’s just here to watch. Just like you wanted him to.”

Seungcheol stifles a groan at that, and he finds that he only gets harder in his pants at the revelation.

So it was your idea?

You look innocent, and Seungcheol had always wondered how you and Mingyu got along in bed when you looked vanilla as fuck. Turns out he was worrying for nothing. He knows now that underneath that pretty face—that angelic facade—was a slut practically begging to be watched while she got fucked open on a big, hard cock.

And Mingyu was more than equipped to serve.

“Come on,” Mingyu continues to kiss, coax, and rub, his eyes locked onto Seungcheol’s gaze with a taunting, daring edge that Seungcheol wouldn’t tolerate in any other context. “Don’t be rude. Show that pretty face and say hi to hyung.” 

“Hi Cheol,” You mumble softly, bashfully avoiding Seungcheol’s gaze as you fold your hands on your lap.

Seungcheol only nods.

(Cut him some slack, it’s his first time doing this.)

“Good girl,” Mingyu smirks, a hand tracing up from your hip to your stomach before Mingyu gives your boob a hard, loving squeeze that has you throwing your head back onto the man’s shoulder, neck bared to Seungcheol, and fuck—

What a sight. 

“Can you recite the rules for me, baby?” Mingyu asks, with two of his hands now kneading at the globes of your chest as you let out soft moans and whimpers that shoot straight to Seungcheol’s cock.

“Cheol can only—hnng—can only watch—“ You’re struggling as you speak, but Mingyu doesn’t stop to let you gather your thoughts. “He can’t t-touch unless I—“

Your words cut off into a moan as Mingyu pinches a nipple over the lace, eyebrows scrunching and mouth falling open as Mingyu continues to toy with your body.

Every cell in Seungcheol’s body is screaming at him to whip out his cock and start stroking, but he holds back. He doesn’t want to bust too soon. Not when he hasn’t even gotten to the good part.

“Unless what?” Mingyu mumbles against your jaw, fingers still pinching and prodding at your nipples like the fucking pervert he is.

“Unless I l-let him—fuck, Gyu!” You let out a squeal when Mingyu bites down onto your shoulder at the same time he gives your lacy nipples a mean pinch. “Stop teasing!”

Seungcheol audibly groans at that, hand coming to the front of his pants as he gives himself a few squeezes to relieve the ache. He likes that new rule, really likes that. He’s hoping with every fiber of your being that you let him touch you. Hell, even your hand around his cock or a finger at his tip would be more than enough to have him bursting with how fucking hard he was in his pants.

“I think hyung really likes that rule,” Mingyu smirks, fingers rubbing over your nipples in a silent apology. “Look at him.”

And you do, eyes half lidded and teeth digging into the pink of your bottom lip as you watch Seungcheol squeeze and rub at his clothed cock. When your eyes meet Seungcheol’s gaze, it’s electric, and Seungcheol finds himself fantasizing of all the ways he could be fucking you as he stared into those pretty eyes.

Seungcheol breaks his gaze away from yours to go lower, to watch the way you squirm on Mingyu’s lap as you squeeze your soft thighs together.

“What’s the last rule, baby?” Mingyu says, hands dragging from your chest down to your thighs. “Our most important rule.”

“Only you can fuck me,” Your eyes are boring straight into Seungcheol’s as you say it. “Only you can cum in me or on me.”

“Why?” Mingyu asks, and Seungcheol just knows it’s another display of ownership, another way of marking his territory that Seungcheol wasn’t even trying to challenge.

He knows his place.

“Because I’m yours,” and you say it like it’s gospel, like there’s no greater truth to ever fall from your lips. You say it with certainty, with devotion, and Seungcheol knows that even if he tried something—not that he would—you would always be Mingyu’s.

Mind, body, and soul.

“Good girl,” Mingyu says, and he’s staring straight at Seungcheol like he’s daring the man to question, to defy. “Now get on your knees and show hyung how well you suck my cock.”

Fucking finally, Seungcheol thinks.

You stand up and turn around before sinking to your knees between Mingyu’s spread legs. For a second, you hesitate, taking a quick look over your shoulder to look at Seungcheol.

Seungcheol only raises a brow in question, antsy, impatient, and Mingyu seems to be feeling the same way because he’s quick to grip your chin and force you to face him.

“Eyes on me,” Mingyu says lowly, and the possessiveness he’s been trying to tone down is slowly rearing its ugly head. “It’s my cock you're sucking, not his.”

You only nod, hands coming up to pull Mingyu’s boxers down. Mingyu’s cock springs free, and Seungcheol watches with a dark gaze as spit dribbles from between your lips and lands on the tip of Mingyu’s flushed cock.

Your tongue comes out to give Mingyu’s tip tiny, quick licks before you go a little lower and lick a long stripe from the man’s balls to the dip of his flushed head—

Shit, Seungcheol thinks at the same time Mingyu lets out a deep groan. Every bit of Seungcheol wishes he was the one feeling all that tongue and spit.

Then, you wrap your lips around Mingyu’s girth, and Seungcheol has to stop himself from bucking his hips like he’s the one feeling the heat of your mouth.

“Shit, that’s it,” Mingyu hisses, hand coming to guide your head to bob up and down his cock. “Good girl.”

It’s too much cock for your little throat, but Seungcheol finds himself impressed and ridiculously turned on by the way you gag and drool on Mingyu’s cock. It’s obscene: the way you slobber and choke on what you can fit in your throat while your hand pumps at what you can’t.

“Fuck, I’m cumming,” Mingyu hisses, his hips bucking into your throat uncontrollably as he goes through his high. Seungchel has to resist the urge to call Mingyu a premature ejaculator as the man cums in your mouth. “Don’t swallow until I tell you to.”

With a pop, Mingyu pulls out of your throat, the final spurts of cum from his cock landing on your face. Despite the dirty shit Mingyu does to you, you’re staring at the man with an adoration so deep that it almost scares Seungcheol.

What the fuck was Mingyu feeding you?

“Open up, baby,” Mingyu says as he leans down, hand coming up to squish your cheeks when you oblige. Then, he turns your head to look at Seungcheol. “Tongue out, baby. Show hyung.”

And fuck, did you look like the epitome of sin. 

You look like a glowing wreck. You hair is messy from the way Mingyu manhandled you, your skin is glowing from the light layer of sweat, and your chest is rising and falling from the heavy breaths of lust that leave you. Mingyu’s cum adorns your cheeks and your tongue in little white ribbons, and it’s taking everything in Seungcheol not to add his into the mix.

There was a rule prohibiting him, after all.

“Doesn’t she look pretty, hyung?” Mingyu asks, the hand holding your cheek suddenly moving as Mingyu presses two fingers on your tongue.

Your eyes roll back with a moan, and Seungcheol swears under his breath. “Fuck, she does.”

A whimper leaves you when Mingyu’s hand withdraws. “Swallow it, baby.”

And like the good fucking girl you are, you do.

“Do you want to help hyung out, love?” Mingyu coos as he raises you back onto his lap. “I think he’s too shy to take his cock out.”

You look at where Seungcheol’s grabbing himself, biting down on your lip with a half-lidded gaze that made you look like the prime picture of desire.

When you nod, Seungcheol practically busts.

You walk towards where he’s seated on the chair, a sway in your hips and nothing but bad intention in your eyes. Seungcheol parts his legs on instinct, and you’re quick to kneel between them.

Fuck you, Kim Mingyu, for hogging this view.

From here, Seungcheol can see the way the lace hugs the curves of your breast like a present he can’t unbox. If he stared hard enough, Seungcheol would probably be able to see a glimpse of your nipples.

“Can I take your pants off?” You ask him, and Seungcheol thinks it’s useless because he’d let you ride his cock into oblivion, so undressing him was practically nothing considering the level of consent he was willing to give.

“Go ahead,” Seungcheol says, leaning back on the chair as you lay your hands on his thighs. Briefly, Seungcheol’s eyes make contact with Mingyu’s, and the man looks like he’s torn between wanting to see more and ripping you away from Seungcheol’s form.

Territorial little shit.

Slowly, you run your hands up Seungcheol’s thighs, an action that’s quick to send tingles throughout Seungcheol’s body. You unbutton his pants before unzipping it, and Seungcheol hisses when the back of your fingers brush against his hardness.

Don’tcumdon’tcumdon’tcum—

Seungcheol has to dig his nails into the couch to keep himself grounded. When you tug at the waistband of his pants, Seungcheol raises his hips to help you bring it down freely. You do the same for his boxers, and when his cock springs free, you’re looking at it like you want to eat him up.

Shit. Was there a rule against you giving him head?

You rip your gaze from Seungcheol’s cock, turning around to look at Mingyu. “Can I lick, Gyu?”

Seungcheol sees the way Mingyu’s jaw clenches at that, sees the way the man seems to be internally struggling at your request. Eventually, he replies, “One lick.”

Fuck, that’s so little, but Seungcheol wasn’t going to complain. Beggars can’t be choosers, after all.

“Ok,” You reply sweetly before turning to Seungcheol. “Can I—“

“Yes,” Seungcheol doesn’t even let you finish, and he hears Mingyu snort at that. “Do what you want.”

Much like you did to Mingyu, you lean forward, hands braced on Seungcheol’s thighs as you let spit drip onto the tip of Seungcheol cock and fuck—

It was warm.

Without warning, your tongue hits his base, keeping it there for while as you stare up into Seungcheol’s eyes in a way that has him wanting to grab your hair and fuck into your mouth like Mingyu did. Your tongue is hot as you drag it up, and Seungcheol is unable to stop the shaky breath that leaves his throat. When you reach the tip, your tongue is quick to withdraw, and Seungcheol has to stop himself from whining at the loss.

God, you’re a fucking tease.

You stand up and walk back to Mingyu, and Seungcheol finds himself mesmerized by the way your ass seems to jiggle with each step.

When you get to Mingyu, he’s quick to pull you and shove his tongue down your throat like he’s trying to erase whatever trace of Seungcheol remained in your mouth, and when he pulls away, you’re breathless, eyes glazed as you let Mingyu manhandle you onto your back on the bed.

“Which one do you want first, baby?” Mingyu says as he kneels on the floor, hands pulling you close to the edge of the bed. “My tongue or my fingers?”

“Your cock,” You whine out, and Mingyu is quick to chuckle in response.

Needy, Seungcheol thinks, but fuck if your pleas didn’t turn him on.

“That’s not in the choices,” Mingyu coos as he starts pulling your panties down.

You’re wet, sopping, and Seungcheol doesn’t miss the string of arousal clinging to your panties as Mingyu pulls them off. Fuck, Seungcheol wonders how it would feel to have all that wetness in his mouth—

Lace lands onto Seungcheol’s lap, and he’s quick to realize that Mingyu—that little shit—just threw your panties at him.

Not that he was complaining.

Unable to stop himself, Seungcheol fists the cloth with one hand while the other goes to tug at his cock. Unabashedly, Seungcheol brings it to his face, the scent of you filling his nostrils and raising goosebumps on his skin at the sheer filth of it all. 

Fuck, your cunt smelled good.

“Told you he’s a fucking degenerate,” Mingyu chuckles darkly as he slings your thighs over his broad shoulders. “Tongue or fingers, baby? Don’t be a brat.”

“Tongue, please!” You whine out, eyes locked onto the sight of Seungcheol sniffing your panties. 

Without hesitation, Mingyu dives in, and the sound that leaves your throat is so fucking pornographic that Seungcheol quickly takes his hand off his cock because he knows that he’d probably cum all over himself if he kept it there.

You look fucking divine.

Back arching and thighs shaking, you look like the kind of woman that Seungcheol would follow to the ends of the earth as long as you promised him a taste, the kind of woman that incites adoration, devotion.

Mingyu is lapping at you like a man starved, tongue violating every crevice of your pristine body like he’s trying to stake his claim. Seungcheol hates that it isn’t him between your legs, but he finds that Mingyu’s ferocity fueled by love and lust is the perfect complement to your beauty. 

“Gyu, too much!” You whine out between gasps and whimpers, but Mingyu doesn’t relent, his hands digging deeper into your hips to anchor you to the assault of his tongue on your sex.

Seungcheol strokes himself faster, eyes switching between the way Mingyu tongue-fucks you and the way your face contorts in sheer, mind-numbing pleasure. He imagines himself in Mingyu’s place, imagines himself being the one to anchor you down and leave you helpless to the way his tongue works you open.

Red flickers in the corner of Seungcheol’s eye, and he’s quickly reminded of the panties in his hand. It’s a bad idea. A bad idea in the way trying drugs for the hell of it is a bad idea because Seungcheol knows that once he gets even a drop of you in his mouth…

He’s going to get addicted.

But Seungcheol goes for it anyway. Hastily, he unfurls lace, brings it to his mouth, and with his eyes boring deep into yours, he take a long lick on the lace where it’s a darker shade of red from your slick and shit— 

You taste like a shot of ecstasy straight into his bloodstream.

Seungcheol finally, truly understands why Mingyu can’t seem to pull his mouth away from your pussy because fuck, if Seungcheol was the one there and tasting all of that, he’d never leave even if he was fucking drowning in it. The taste lingers, and it has Seungcheol desperately pumping his cock as he chases his high.

“Gyu, I’m gonna cum—“

At the same time you start convulsing in Mingyu’s hold, Seungcheol cums all over himself, spurts of white spilling messily all over his thighs as he lets out low huffs and groans that are deliberately quiet to avoid overshadowing the moans spilling from your mouth.

Fuck, that was the best orgasm he’s had in months, and he didn’t even need to feel the warmth and slick of a tight cunt around his cock. His hand coupled with the sight, scent, and taste of you was more than enough.

Mingyu continues to slurp and lick. Even when your hands are pushing at his head in overstimulation and your eyes are tearing up, Mingyu doesn’t stop until he gets his fill. While Seungcheol feels sorry for you, he knows he’d probably do the same if it were him.

You looked pretty with your eyes all teary.

When Mingyu parts from your pussy, Seungcheol finally gets a clear view of your bare cunt all soft and shiny from the slick all over it.

Fuck, he might just get hard again.

You look thoroughly fucked despite the absence of cock, chest heaving and body sinking into the bed as you look at Mingyu who’s pressing soft kisses all over your thighs, rubbing soft circles into your hips to ground you in the moment before your mind drifted too far away.

It feels too intimate, Seugcheol thinks, and he finds himself gazing everywhere but the two of you. If only to give you privacy for the moment he feels like he’s intruding on.

But when Mingyu speaks again, Seungcheol is quick to snap his eyes back to the bed, “Think you can take my cock now?”

And when you nod with a fucked-out gaze, Seungcheol adjusts himself on the seat, anticipating, waiting, preparing.

Here we fucking go again.

Mingyu lays flat on the bed, and without hesitation you’re quick to get on top of him, hands bracing on the man’s chest and giving Seungcheol a perfect view of your back—

“Turn around, baby,” Mingyu suddenly says, and Seungcheol watches as you oblige, turning around before taking a seat back on Mingyu’s sturdy thighs. “Show hyung how well you can ride.”

Choi Seungcheol was not going to survive this.

You reach down, lining the tip of Mingyu’s cock before slowly sinking down like you’re trying to memorize every ridge as it goes deeper and deeper into your walls. 

“Still so fucking tight, shit—“ Seungcheol can’t fully see Mingyu as the man loses his mind, but he can already imagine the clenched jaw, the furrowed brows, and the screwed eyes, and god, did Seungcheol wish that was him. 

The way you move on Mingyu’s dick gives away your experience, hips swirling and grinding in sinful circles that have Mingyu whining and whimpering shamelessly. Unlike the mindless submission you were exhibiting between Mingyu’s legs, there was a different air now that you were on top.

You ride Mingyu like you’re trying to make it hurt, alternating between rapid bounces that make your chest swing in their confines and slow grinds that have your eyes rolling back from the way your clit rubs against Mingyu’s skin.

You look like sin.

“Does it feel good, Gyu?” The question is directed towards Mingyu, but your eyes are on Seungcheol, like you’re trying to prove something, trying to put on a show.

You’re fucking succeeding, alright.

“Yes, baby, fuck,“ Mingyu is unable to stop the way his words crack into groans when you give his cock a particularly rough bounce. “Love feeling this cunt, love you, fuck, I love you—“

Well, look at his friend all pussy-whipped.

Not that Seungcheol was faring any better. 

Despite his orgasm earlier, Seungcheol can already feel himself approaching another high, eyes wholly taken by the way your folds are stretched thin around Mingyu’s thick cock. 

Seungcheol can only imagine what it would be like to stretch you out on his. He isn't as long as Mingyu, but he was definitely thicker. It’s a monstrosity that has made multiple women cry at the intrusion, the sting his thick cock brought quickly becoming an addiction that had many coming back for more.

Only the lucky ones get second chances.

(He’d give you multiple if you asked him to.)

The next thing you do has Seungcheol practically salivating where he’s seated. With a cheeky grin, you reach up and give your boobs a few solid squeezes before you reach behind you and unclasp the bra blocking your bare breasts from Seungcheol’s hungry view.

The cherry red lace is discarded to the side, and Seungcheol can only be mesmerized as he watches your breasts swing from the way you’re bouncing desperately on Mingyu’s cock.

Fuck, he wanted to touch them so fucking badly.

“Wanna touch, Cheol?” Your words sound like a siren’s song, and before Seungcheol can even stop himself, his legs are already taking him to the bed.

Under you, Mingyu groans, hands digging into your waist possessively, but he doesn’t move to stop either of you. It’s only when Seungcheol is on the side of the bed, getting ready to reach out, that Mingyu speaks.

“No marks, hyung,” Mingyu hisses out through gritted teeth as you continue to swirl your hips on his cock.

Seungcheol only rolls his eyes, “Got it.”

“Touch me, please,” You plead with the softest pout, hand coming up to scratch tantalizing lines down Seungcheol’s chest.

He shivers, and without wasting another second, he steps closer to you, one hand coming up to give your bare breast a soft squeeze and fuck, you’re soft.

Your lips fall into an ‘o’ as you let out a moan, eyes half-open as you stare into the abyss of Seungcheol’s gaze. “Do you like touching my tits, Cheol?”

“Yes,” Seungcheol chokes out, continuing to knead and squeeze like his hand had a mind of its own. 

“Wanna suck the other one?” You say with sly grin, and Seungcheol doesn’t miss the way Mingyu groans underneath you at the suggestion.

“Can I?” Seungcheol asks, eyes flickering over to Mingyu who looks like he’s dying from the sheer grip your cunt had on him.

Lucky bastard.

“Don’t ask me,” Mingyu says through groans. “Ask her.”

“Go ahead, Cheol,” You’re quick to encourage him, one hand coming up to his face to gently tug. “Suck.”

“Fuck, okay,” Seungcheol says before leaning down to pop a tit into his mouth.

And shit did it feel good in his mouth. He sucks, licks, and nips at what he can. Keeping the effort on the gentler side to avoid leaving any marks.  

“Fuck, Cheol!” You cry out when he Seungcheol gives your nipple a particularly harsh bite, head thrown back and arm coming up behind Seungcheol’s neck to keep him at your chest. “Keep sucking, please. I’m close—“

Seungcheol feels your body jolt up when Mingyu gives you a particularly harsh thrust.

“Don’t forget who’s fucking you,” Mingyu says in a dark tone, possessiveness threaded through every syllable that leaves his mouth. “You say my name when you cum. No one else’s.”

“Yes, Gyu!” You shriek out as Mingyu holds you in place like a fleshlight for his harsh thrusts pounding you from below. “Gyu, I’m cumming, fuck, I’m cumming—“

Seungcheol groans around your tit, sucks getting harsher and touches getting rougher to help Mingyu get you closer to your high. He can feel your grip around him tighten as you arch your back, fingers tugging at his hair as you cum all over Mingyu’s cock.

He separates from you, taking a step back to watch the way you come undone as Mingyu throws you over the edge with his rough strokes.

What a sight you are, he thinks.

“Fuck, it’s my turn,” is all Mingyu says before he’s sitting up and pushing you onto all fours, cheek smushed onto the sheets as Mingyu places a rough, loving hand on your head.

Rest in peace, Seungcheol thinks as he takes a seat on his chair and watches as Mingyu takes you from the back.

Seungcheol can see the fear mix with the lust in your eyes as you reach behind you and push at Mingyu’s hips. “Gyu, wait, I can’t—“

“You’ve got a safeword, baby,” Mingyu says with a dark grin as he locks your wrists on your back. “You’re always free to use it.”

You don’t. Even when tears are dangling from your lashes, even when your eyes are crossed, and even when your tongue lolls out to give way for those depraved, inhuman moans—you don’t.

You’re taking Mingyu’s cock like a fucking champ, pussy squelching obscenely from all the slick that leaks from your thoroughly used cunt. You look like a mess, a nasty, sex-crazed mess that can only let out moans that sound a little close to ‘stop’, ‘too much’ and Mingyu’s name.

You’re a fucking freak.

Mingyu’s not much better, Seungcheol thinks.

“Come on, baby, I thought it was too much?” Mingyu coos like a bastard, grin dark as he continues to drive his hips in and out of your wet heat. “I’m not stopping until you use your safeword, baby.”

You only whine, back arching further in a curve that has Seungcheol’s cock jumping and leaking at the sight.

“But you’re not going to use it, are you?” Mingyu says as he leans down and braces himself with his hands on the bed, lips brushing against your ear as he slows his strokes to make them harsher, rougher. “You like being fucked like a slut, like being used like you’re nothing more than a hole for my cock. Isn’t that right, baby?”

You only nod. Seungcheol doesn’t think you can manage more than that with how long Mingyu’s been overstimulating your poor pussy.

“I haven’t fucked you enough to make you go dumb, baby,” Mingyu rasps roughly against your ear. “Use your words or I’m going to pull out.”

“I’m just—hnng—just a h-hole—“ You’re struggling, and Seungcheol would probably feel bad if he didn’t find it so fucking hot. “Like being f-fucked like a slut—Gyu, fuck!”

Your nails dig into the sheets as Mingyu reaches down with one had to rub sloppy circles on your swollen clit, his other hand intertwining tenderly with yours from the back like he isn’t ravaging your pussy like a fiend.

“You gonna cum again, baby?” Mingyu teases. “I haven’t even cum yet, and you’re already getting another one? That’s not fair, no?”

“I’m sorry!” You cry out. “I-I’ll make it up to you—“

“You will, baby, don’t worry,” Mingyu turns his gaze to Seungcheol, eyes dark with lust. “Where do you want me to cum, baby?”

Seungcheol starts stroking his cock again. The sick, depraved part of him wanted to sync his orgasm with yours, if only to let him pretend like he’s the one painting your walls with his spunk.

“Inside!” You shriek like a madwoman. “Cum inside me, Gyu, please, I’m so close—“

“Fuck, I’m cumming—“

In a cacophony of slick, high-pitched whines, and feral groans, you and Mingyu cum, bodies violently sliding and slapping against each other in a scene so primal that Seungcheol is unable to stop himself from making a mess all over his thighs.

Mingyu pumps once, twice, each thrust harsh to fuck his cum deep into your bare cunt. Then, he pulls out, your body falling into a heaving, twitching mess on the bed as Mingyu runs a hand through the sweat-slicked strands of his hair.

“Fuck, that was good,” Mingyu groans out before he leans down to press tender kisses against the side of your sweaty face. “You okay, baby?”

“Need a minute,” You huff out, and Seungcheol could not agree more.

You look like you’re close to entering another plane, eyes glazing over as Mingyu continues to rub up and down your waist, accompanying the gentle touch with soft kisses and words of praise against your ear.

Seungcheol doesn’t think he’s ever seen Mingyu treat anyone this softly after sex.

Whipped bastard, he thinks.

“You did so good, baby,” Mingyu mumbles between your shoulder blades. “My pretty girl did so well, no?”

“Did I?” You say in a small voice, a stark contrast to the woman who was riding and taking Mingyu’s cock shamelessly with every fiber of her being.

“You did, baby,” Mingyu affirms, nose rubbing affectionately into your hair as he gets you to come down from what space you’ve found yourself in. “You take me so well. You always do.”

Fuck, you two are sappy as shit. Seungcheol thinks he should pack up and leave, but it felt a little weird to just stand up and dress himself like the two of you weren’t having a moment.

What in the softcore porn was going on?

“Love you, Gyu,” You mumble out, pressing a soft kiss to Mingyu’s cheek, a tender action that has Mingyu grinning brightly like an idiot.

“Love you too, baby,” Mingyu replies, voice warm as he nuzzles his nose against your cheek. “Can we clean you up now?”

Seungcheol’s ears perk up at Mingyu’s words..

Can we clean you up now?

We?

“Yes,” You mumble out, forehead brushing softly against the sheets as you nod. You look like you’re one soft touch away from falling asleep. Meanwhile, Seungcheol’s on the chair, repeating the words in his head and wondering if he heard Mingyu right.

“Okay, let me just—“ Mingyu pulls you up to sit, back resting against him and head falling against his shoulder as he fixes you between his legs. “Can you spread your legs for me, love?”

The sheets shift and crumble as your legs drag against it, thighs parting to give Seungcheol a perfect view of what lies between. 

Seungcheol doesn’t think he can cum anymore, but fuck why was his dick getting hard all over again.

Your pussy’s bared to him, puffy and glistening from the rough fucking Mingyu just gave you, but that’s not what Seungcheol’s eyes are locked on. It’s the thick, creamy globs of white dripping from your used hole that has his mouth going dry and his cock stirring despite the fact that he just came all over himself.

“You gonna keep staring, or are you going to clean her up?” Mingyu’s looking at Seungcheol as he says it, eyes dark and grin depraved. “This is your only chance to taste her, hyung. I’d make the most of it if I were you.”

Fuck you, Kim Mingyu. 

Seungcheol wants a taste, he really does. The voice in his head is screaming at him to kneel between your legs and shove his tongue into the heat of your walls but fuck—

Mingyu’s cum is all over it.

How far was Seungcheol willing to go? How low could he stoop for a taste of your cunt? How depraved was he willing to become? How far was he willing to walk down this path that seemed to have no return?

Fuck it, Seungcheol thinks, and before the logical part of his brain takes over, he walks over to your spread legs and settles on the bed between them.

Mingyu laughs, a strange mix of disbelief and desire. “Fuck, you’re seriously—“ 

“Shut up,” Seungcheol hisses, his patience finally snapping as he grabs your thighs, hands pushing at them to spread you wider. 

“Got you,” Mingyu snorts. “Make sure to get all my cum out unless you want to become an uncle, hyung.”

Filthy-mouthed fucking asshole, Seungcheol doesn’t know why he’s still friends with this freak.

(Probably because he’s just as bad for agreeing to all of this in the first place.)

“Can I?” Seungcheol asks, and when you nod, he’s quick to dive in.

Seungcheol gives you one long lick from taint to clit, the mix of your’s and Mingyu’s cum coating his tongue as he does so.

“Fuck, that’s insane,” Seungcheol tunes Mingyu out, ears zeroing in on the way you’re whimpering and whining as his tongue repeatedly parts your swollen folds.

It’s degrading, it’s disgusting, but Seungcheol wasn’t going to let this night end without getting a taste of your cunt. He licks and laps, tongue tracing through every dip and crevice like a thirsty dog.

“Fuck, Cheol, your tongue’s so good,” You whine out, hands reaching down to tangle in his hair as Seungcheol dips his tongue to fuck in and out of your hole.

Seungcheol groans at the praise and the feeling of your fingers in his hair, mouth pulling away only for two of his fingers to plunge in you. “I never thought you’d be this much of a slut.”

You whine at that, back arching and brows scrunching as Seungcheol’s fingers curve against the rough patch of your walls. Mingyu’s approving grin from behind you only encourages Seungcheol to continue spewing filth.

“You like letting other men watch you? Like letting them eat you out after your boyfriend fucking came in you, hm?”

“Yes!” You squeal out in reply as Mingyu’s fingers come up to twist and pinch your nipples. “I love it!”

“Slut,” Seungcheol hisses out, fingers picking up speed as he works you to another orgasm. “No wonder Mingyu’s so fucking whipped for you. You act all innocent but you’re just as bad as he is.”

“Not bad,” You whine out with a pout as you catch Seungcheol’s disappointed stare. “It’s all Mingyu’s fault—“

“Of course it is,” Seungcheol scoffs, fingers slowing down to edge you, an action that has you frowning and bucking your hips against his fingers. “Cut that shit or I’ll pull my fingers out.”

“You better listen, baby,” Mingyu whispers into your ear. “Hyung likes breaking brats like you.”

Your hips are quick to still.

“Good girl,” Seungcheol says before lowering his face again. “Let me show you what good girls get.”

Seungcheol wraps his lips around your clit, tongue flicking at the swollen bud back and forth as his fingers drive themselves in and out of your dripping cunt.

You shriek at the sudden onslaught. “Shit, slow down—“

Your words are cut off when Mingyu sticks his fingers in your mouth.

“Be a good girl for hyung, baby,” Mingyu mumbles against the shell of your ear, fingers going in and out of your mouth like a cock would. “Give him a taste of that cunt, okay?”

“Fuck, was she always this dirty?” Seungcheol parts from your clit to breathe the question out, eyes wholly captured by the way you suck and moan around Mingyu’s digits. 

“No,” Mingyu says proudly, like taking your innocence and corrupting you into becoming his perfect little whore was a badge of honor he just had to flaunt. “I had to fuck the shyness out of this one, but I think it worked out, no? Are you still shy about taking my cock, baby?”

You shake your head, unable to vocalize the words given the way Mingyu has you gagging on his fingers.

“Yeah? You’d let me fuck you anywhere? Let me fuck you anytime I want, hm?”

You nod at that, whining as Mingyu continues to whisper filth in your ear while Seungcheol works you open with his fingers. You’re close, Seungcheol can tell from the pulsing of your walls and the squirming of your hips.

“Do you want to cum, baby?” Mingyu asks, wholly attuned to the way your body starts to quiver. The man didn’t even need to feel your cunt around him to know that you were close.

When you nod, Mingyu pulls his fingers from your mouth, squishes your cheeks, and forces you to look at Seungcheol.

“Beg him then,” Mingyu rasps into your ear, arm wrapping tightly around your waist to keep you in place.

You have nowhere to run now.

“Cheol, please,” You whimper out, eyes round and glassy as you plead to the man between your legs. “Please let me cum. Please, I need it—

Seungcheol ups the effort, fingers curling against the spot you seemed to love as he sucks your clit into his mouth. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t falter, doesn’t pull away to breathe until he’s sure you’re cumming.

“Fuck, I’m cumming, Cheol, I’m cumming!” You cry out desperately, nails digging into the flesh of Mingyu’s forearm as Seungcheol continues to suck your soul out from between your legs. “Don’t stop, oh god, oh shit—“

Seungcheol groans when liquid sprays onto his face, fingers pulling out of you abruptly so he can cover the entirety of your squirting cunt with his mouth.

He laps it all up, low moans and deep groans rumbling from his chest as he slurps your cunt like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to (it probably is). You taste different, good. 

The taste coating his mouth is all you, Mingyu’s cum long licked and fucket out of your cunt by Seungcheol’s previous ministrations. You taste like the beginning of an addiction Seungcheol will have to spend the rest of his life trying to escape, and shit—

Seungcheol thinks he might just have to beg Mingyu for another taste.

Reluctantly he pulls away, tongue darting out to lick at the traces of you that remained on his lips. You look gone, body slack against Mingyu as your cunt twitches and spasms around nothing.

“Did hyung make you feel good, baby?” Mingyu whispers softly into your ear as you curl against Mingyu’s chest.

You only nod in response, arms reaching up to wrap around Mingyu’s neck as you fully settle yourself on his lap. Mingyu is quick to wrap you in his embrace, lips pressing tender kisses against your shoulder.

“Gyu, I’m sleepy,” You mumble out from where you're nuzzling into Mingyu’s neck. The softness of it all when juxtaposed to the debauchery that just took place is jarring, but Seungcheol thinks that this softness is warranted considering what he and Mingyu put you through.

“Sleep then, love,” Mingyu says as he lays you onto your back on the bed. “Let me just talk to hyung, okay?”

“Don’t take too long,” is all you say before nuzzling under the covers.

Seungcheol takes that as his cue to stand up and start dressing. He’s starting to feel a little shameful now that the air’s a little calmer, but he doesn’t think he’s going to regret any of it. The universe knows he’d come crawling back if Mingyu presented him with another opportunity—

Where the fuck did he put his shirt? It’s the only thing he needs before he can finally get out of the room and give the two of you space while he starts his walk of shame to the car.

Almost as if Mingyu could read his mind, the younger man throws it at him, and Seungcheol is quick to catch it.

“Thanks,” is all Seungcheol says as he slips the shirt over his head, movements slowly getting sluggish as the exhaustion starts creeping in. 

Fuck, that was tiring.

“Thanks for agreeing to this, hyung,” Mingyu looks sheepish as he says it, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck as the other pulls the edge of the blanket to cover his intimate parts.

Seungcheol doesn’t know why the Mingyu still bothers considering the number of times they’ve been bare in front of each other.

“No need to thank me. I had a good time anyway,” Seungcheol shrugs as he gets his cap from the floor, securing it on his head. “I’m guessing this is a one time thing?”

“Yes,” Mingyu says, and Seungcheol is quick to pick up on the sharp edges of Mingyu’s gaze.

Territorial prick.

“Calm down, dude, I’m not going to try anything,” Seungcheol scoffs. Mingyu could seriously be a pain in the ass if he wanted to, and dealing with that version of him was the last thing Seungcheol wanted to do. “Take care of her, okay? I’m leaving now.”

“Bye hyung,” Mingyu calls out softly as he crawls over to the empty space beside you on the bed. “We have a gym session tomorrow, don’t forget.”

Seungcheol only snorts at that. Even after everything that went down, Mingyu still found it in himself to be a fucking gymrat. Seungcheol’s thankful for it though, thankful that Mingyu’s back to talking casually like Seungcheol didn’t just tongue-fuck and finger the shit out of his girlfriend. The last thing he wanted was for things to get awkward after this, and thankfully, it looks like that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

“Bring the protein,” is all Seungcheol says before he walks out and shuts the door of Mingyu’s bedroom behind him.

Now, the walk of shame.

A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed this one!! I would love to hear from y’all (no matter how unhinged LMAO). Now excuse me while I go touch grass and get breakfast 😅

🔹general taglist: @floraoleander, @wonu13, @socialsymphonies, @limeliner, @joepomonerof, @xxxhanasoni-blog, @bruhmoonlight, @nahyuckism, @enchantingbarbariansublime, @haaruki, @daisyyquakee, @hrtsformark, @sakusaskrma, @septemberskies, @lyche3soju, @eyeshasimps, @imjustchubby, @mari-maris-things, @picheolout, @sankriin, @tranquillitysoul, @amturners, @kyoongchannie, @alohacrispyrn, @choshushu, @woncheollies

[starlostjisung]

the wheel of pleasure

pairing: ot8 x 9th!member reader

genre: smut

wc: 19.1k

warnings: unprotected sex; fingering; oral sex (f!receiving); dirty talk; praising; use of toys; bondage; face sitting; ice play; dry humping; allusion to masturbation; orgasm denial; edging; squirting 

summary: after arguing about who would be the one to give the biggest orgasm, they come to the same conclusion: to really know, it would have to be with the same girl. what if that girl were you?

a/n: i read who’s who? (sex edition) by @ddyskz a long time ago and i LOVED IT. i wanted to end kinktober with a bang, so here you go, a lot of smut, porn without plot, and pure chaos

a/n2: i wrote this across different nights and i proofread it, but there might be some mistakes and notes to myself that i write while editting (like "change this part" or "add this here") that i missed, if you see them... mind your business (joking 😊)

the dorm smells like fried chicken and takeout, wrappers and containers covering almost every inch of the table. chan keeps swatting at jeongin’s hand because he’s stealing fries off everyone’s plate, while seungmin sits back with that smug little grin that says he’s got enough food piled in front of him to last three days. changbin is the one who insists someone should clean as they go, but he’s also the first to spill sauce down his shirt, which earns a round of groans and laughter that doesn’t stop for a good two minutes.

you sit next to felix, who is leaning into you in his usual lazy way, like you’re his pillow. your sides ache from laughing, and your cheeks feel hot from the drinks, nothing too heavy, just enough to loosen everyone up. the day off tomorrow feels like a gift, a chance to breathe after the nonstop rehearsals.

“i swear”, changbin says through a mouthful of chicken, “if i have to hear ‘from the top’ one more time, i’m quitting. i’m gone. i’ll disappear”

“and you will do what?”, han teases, pointing his chopsticks at him, “become a bodybuilder? a food critic? you’d last three days”

“three days longer than you, crybaby”, changbin shoots back, but there’s no heat in it, just another excuse for the group to fall into laughter again.

the night stretches on like that, the table slowly clearing, the bottles emptying, the jokes getting sillier and the edges of everyone softening. when the food is gone, chan claps his hands, and tells everyone to move to the living room.

the sofa and floor cushions turn into a pile of bodies, knees knocking, heads leaning. felix curls up in the corner, his arm brushing yours whenever he gestures too wide. jeongin ends up stretched across the rug with a throw pillow hugged to his chest, eyes half-lidded but still laughing at every dumb thing hyunjin says.

the tv is on in the background, some late-night variety show first, then a movie no one bothers to change. it plays just for noise, filling the gaps between conversations.

“i’m telling you”, seungmin says, “if the choreographer makes us run that one sequence again, i’m breaking his kneecaps”

“don’t say that while i’m drinking”, you laugh, choking a little on your sip, and han pats your back, making an exaggerated face of concern.

“wow, violent seungmin unlocked”, felix giggles, his cheek pressed into your shoulder.

you roll your eyes, but your smile won’t leave. everything feels easy, warm, safe. and then, without warning, the room shifts.

on the screen, a man groans, low and drawn out, and everyone turns their head at the same time. the volume had been creeping up without anyone noticing, and now it fills the dorm: the wet sound of a tongue, a high-pitched whine, the slick, messy soundtrack of sex. the camera shows a man between a woman’s thighs, his face buried, his hands gripping her hips like she’s the only thing anchoring him to earth.

and she’s coming apart. loud. shaking. her cries echo in the room, shameless and broken, as he makes a whole performance out of her orgasm, dragging it out until she’s arching so hard her head hits the pillows.

the dorm goes silent for a beat.

then-

“oh my god”, seungmin blurts, bursting into laughter so hard he doubles over.

“what the fuck-”, hyunjin gasps, covering his mouth, though his eyes are wide and fixed on the screen.

“he’s- look at him!”, han wheezes, pointing at the tv., “he’s acting like he’s getting graded on this!”

“10 out of 10 performance”, felix says through giggles, his face red, “give the man an oscar”

changbin leans forward, squinting at the screen, then shakes his head, “no, no, no. they’re exaggerating. nobody can make someone come that hard just from that. not like that”

“you sure about that?”, chan teases, raising a brow, and the group dissolves again, everyone talking over each other - half disbelief, half jokes, all of it loud.

you sit back, laughing with them, but your stomach twists at the scene still playing, your mind running just a little faster than your voice. the sound of the girl’s broken cries, the way she looks wrecked and gone - something about it lodges under your skin, hot and sharp, even as the boys keep throwing comments, one after the other.

han throws his head back, cackling, “come on, there’s no way that’s real. they’re putting on a show for the cameras. no one actually shakes like that”

“don’t underestimate technique”, minho says, smirking, eyes still on the screen, “some guys know exactly where to touch, where to lick, and they can drag it out for as long as they want. she looked wrecked, but not faking”

“if you’re saying that, minho, it sounds like you may have been doing it in secret”, felix teases, poking minho’s arm until he swats him away.

changbin scoffs, leaning back into the cushions with his arms crossed, “please. if we’re talking about making a girl come like that, i’d win. hands down. i’d have her screaming so loud the neighbours would complain”

the dorm erupts into groans and laughter.

“bold of you to assume anyone wants to hear you grunt through it”, seungmin deadpans, still grinning, “it’s technique, not force”

“and you think you’d be better?”, changbin shoots back.

“obviously”, seungmin says smoothly, though his ears tint pink when the others hoot at him.

“don’t start, minnie”, hyunjin chimes in, running a hand dramatically through his hair, “we all know i’d make her fall apart the fastest. look at me. i’d have her shaking just from kissing her neck”

“fastest doesn’t mean best”, chan points out, amused, “it’s not about making her come quick. it’s about making it last, a big one”

you laugh along with the others, hugging a cushion to your chest, but your pulse stutters at chan’s words. not fastest. biggest. the thought tugs at something low in your stomach, sticky and insistent.

“no, no, i’m telling you”, han interrupts, pointing at himself with both thumbs, “i’d wreck her. you’ve heard my tongue when i rap. imagine that, but down there”

the room bursts into chaos at that, everyone groaning, jeering, throwing napkins at him, but han only grins wider.

“he’s not wrong”, felix giggles, voice muffled in your shoulder, “his tongue’s insane”

“felix!”, han screams, delighted, and hyunjin claps his hands like he’s just heard the best joke of the night.

you bite your lip, hiding your face in the cushion for a moment. your thighs squeeze together, almost unconsciously.

jeongin, quiet until now, clears his throat, “isn’t it kind of pointless to argue? like, every girl’s different, right? so maybe one of you could make her come hard, but another guy could do the same thing with another girl and it would be different. you can’t compare”

“true”, chan says, thoughtful, “different people, different bodies, different reactions”

“unless”, minho says slowly, his smirk returning, “we had the same girl. then it would actually be a fair test”

the words hang in the air, heavier than they should. the boys laugh again, brushing it off, tossing jokes about contests and leaderboards and scorecards, but your chest tightens, your pulse hammering in your ears.

the same girl. one girl with all of them.

your breath catches, and you press the cushion tighter to your chest, trying not to show the way your mind latches onto the idea, hot and dizzying. you keep quiet, lips curved into a smile like you’re only laughing with the rest, but deep down, the thought is already there, pulsing, dangerous, impossible to ignore.

the banter carries on, ridiculous scenarios tossed back and forth, laughter and mock-arguments filling the room. but your pulse has started to race. the words keep circling in your head. the same girl. your thighs press together, almost unconsciously, heat curling low in your stomach.

you’ve been quiet too long. the thought is too loud now, buzzing in your chest, and before you can stop yourself, you say it.

“what if that girl was me?”

the words drop like a stone in water. the dorm falls into stunned silence. every pair of eyes turns to you.

han’s mouth opens, then shuts again, like he can’t process what he just heard. felix freezes against your side, wide-eyed. jeongin sits up too quickly, clutching his pillow like it might explain this away. changbin stares like you’ve grown another head, while hyunjin just blinks, lips parted in shock.

you swallow, your throat dry, but you force yourself to keep going. 

“i mean… you were just saying it. that to really know who can make a girl come the hardest or the best, it has to be the same one. right?”

no one answers, but no one looks disgusted, either. just… surprised.

“we all trust each other”, you say, softer now, your gaze flicking from one face to the next, “and it could be fun. we could test your theories, see who’s actually right. who can give me the biggest orgasm”

felix lets out a noise halfway between a cough and a laugh, cheeks burning. han covers his mouth like he’s trying to hold in about six different things at once. chan looks at you too long, unreadable, while seungmin’s composure finally cracks - his ears are scarlet, his mouth pressed into a thin, stunned line.

the silence stretches, heavy but not uncomfortable. your heart pounds, but you don’t take it back. you sit straighter, daring any of them to break first. and judging by the way their eyes flicker - between each other, then back to you - you can tell the thought has already lodged itself in their heads too.

the silence is sharp, buzzing, like the whole dorm is holding its breath. then minho leans back against the sofa, crossing his arms, a smirk tugging at his mouth.

“you’re talking a big game here, y/n”, he says, voice smooth, deliberately teasing, “do you really think you could handle all of us? that’s… a lot. maybe more than you realise”

a ripple of laughter passes through the boys, breaking the tension just enough. han wheezes into his sleeve, “he’s right, you know. there’s eight of us. eight. you’d be begging for mercy before we were halfway done”

the heat in your chest flickers into something sharper. you straighten, narrowing your eyes at them, your lips curving into the faintest smile.

“you think i can’t handle it?”, you challenge, tilting your head, “i know exactly what i’m saying. i can take all of you. in fact-”, you let the pause stretch, watching their eyes widen, “i think you’ll be the ones begging by the end”

a stunned beat, then felix lets out a low laugh, the tips of his ears glowing red, “oh my god”

“holy shit”, han mutters under his breath, his leg bouncing faster, “she’s serious”

“dead serious”, you say, leaning back, letting your confidence sharpen around the nerves knotting in your stomach, “i trust you. and i want this. all of you”

the room shifts again, charged now, the weight of your words sinking into their skin.

chan clears his throat, his voice steady but his eyes betraying how hard he’s thinking, “so you want us all… to try? one by one. see who can give you the biggest orgasm”

“exactly”

“like a contest”, han blurts, his tone half-incredulous, half-delighted, “we actually do it”

“not a contest”, you correct, firm but soft, “a game. just for fun. i want us all to enjoy it. no pressure, no weirdness, no lines crossed. just us… experimenting together”

“fuck”, changbin mutters, rubbing a hand over his face, “that sounds way too good to be real”

“but it is real”, you counter, locking eyes with him, “if you’re all in”

their gazes dart between each other, silent messages flying back and forth. felix bites his lip, han runs a nervous hand through his hair, hyunjin’s foot taps against the carpet. jeongin swallows hard, but he's unable to tear his eyes from you.

“you’d actually let us-”, jeongin starts, then cuts himself off, his face going crimson.

“yes”, you say simply.

that one word makes the air burn hotter.

seungmin, usually composed, shifts in his seat. his voice is lower when he speaks, careful.

“we’d… have to set rules. make sure it’s safe. make sure you’re okay every step of the way”

“we will”, you assure him, your voice softening, “we’ll talk through everything. limits, boundaries, what’s off the table. i wouldn’t be saying this if i didn’t trust you completely”

the silence that follows is different this time. less stunned, more thoughtful. the nervous laughter has faded, replaced by something heavier, thicker, but not unwelcome. you can see it in their faces - nerves, yes, but excitement too. curiosity. want.

minho exhales a laugh, shaking his head, “fuck it”, he mutters, “i’m in”

han snorts but his grin is wild, “yeah, same. i’m not missing this”

felix tucks his face into your shoulder, giggling breathlessly, but his muffled “me too” is clear enough.

“i’m in”, changbin adds with a firm nod.

“and me”, seungmin says, shifting in his seat again.

hyunjin groans into his hands, then peeks up with a dramatic roll of his eyes, “fine. twist my arm, why don’t you. of course i’m in”

jeongin looks like he’s trying to disappear into his pillow, but he doesn’t hesitate when he says, voice small but sure, “i’m in too” 

all eyes shift to chan, steady and quiet, who studies you for a long moment. then he smiles faintly, shaking his head, “you’re something else, y/n”, he murmurs, “but yeah. i’m in as well”

the tension snaps, replaced by a rush of laughter and nervous energy. they’re grinning, still blushing, but it’s real now.

you lean back into the sofa cushions, your heart pounding but your voice steady as you look at all of them, “good. then it’s settled. we are doing this”

han whistles low, “jesus christ, this is actually happening”

minho smirks at you, smug again, but his ears are red, “don’t say we didn’t warn you, y/n. you’re the one who asked for this”

“and i’ll prove to you that i can handle it”, you shoot back, smiling sharper now, letting them all see how much you mean it.

the room buzzes with nervous laughter again, but underneath it, there’s no denying it anymore. the heat is there, alive in every glance, every flushed face, every twitch of a smile. all the energy is here, caught between the nine of you, heavy and electric, like it’s only a matter of time before it ignites.

chan runs a hand through his hair, the leader in him tugging at the edges of the conversation.

“so… how are we even gonna do this?”, he asks, voice calm but coloured with nerves, “we can’t just… all pick what we’re best at. that wouldn’t be fair”

"yeah", seungmin says, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, “if we want to actually see who can give her the biggest orgasm, it has to be random. otherwise everyone’s just gonna try their favourite move”

you all sit there thinking until han perks up, grinning, “a wheel. we spin some random wheel online, and whatever it lands on, that’s how we have to make her come”

hyunjin lets out a low whistle, “holy shit. that’s… actually brilliant”

changbin chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief, “you want us to trust some stupid wheel to decide how we… fuck her senseless?”

“not fuck”, felix corrects softly, but his cheeks are bright pink, “make her come. and yeah… i kinda like it. makes it fair. no one’s cheating, no one’s playing safe”

“but that means it’s out of our hands”, jeongin mumbles, his voice small but trembling with excitement, “like… anything could come up”

the thought makes your stomach flip, heat rushing lower. the idea of them not knowing what’s coming, of you not knowing either… it sends sparks dancing through your skin.

minho tilts his head, eyes narrowing at you, “that sounds good to you, y/n? we spin the wheel, let it decide what each of us does to you? you’re the one taking it. are you comfortable with that?”

eight pairs of eyes lock onto you at once, the weight of their care as intense as the burn of their desire.

you breathe in slowly, then let it out, “yes. i want that. i want to see what each of you can do… without planning it. a surprise, something unpredictable”

the tension doubles when you add, softer but firm, “i trust you. completely”

felix bites down on a smile, gaze darting to the floor. han swears under his breath. chan’s shoulders finally relax. still, seungmin clears his throat. 

“boundaries”, he says carefully, “we need to know if there’s anything you don’t want included. anything off the table before we set the options”

you pause, mind flicking over every fantasy, every limit. the wheel spins in your imagination - hands, mouths, bodies, every version of them dragging pleasure from you - and your pulse jumps.

“i… don’t think so”, you murmur honestly, “i can’t think of anything i’d want to ban”

“nothing?”, minho presses, arching a brow.

“nothing”, you repeat, meeting his gaze with certainty, “i want to feel it all”

the silence is shattered by han’s nervous laugh, high-pitched, full of disbelief, “jesus. i'm sure you're already wetter than the ocean”

you feel the truth of it as soon as the words land - your thighs pressing tighter together, the warmth soaking through your underwear. their eyes catch it too - some flicker down, some snap away, but all of them are flushed, restless, shifting in their seats.

the excitement is no longer just yours. you see it in their faces now - nervous smiles, bitten lips, clenched fists on their knees. the idea has rooted in them, grown, stretched.

agreement settles like a current through the room, soft but unshakable. they’re all in now - no hesitation, no second-guessing, only the shared thrum of nerves and anticipation. you push yourself up from the sofa, smoothing your hands down your thighs. 

“then it’s settled”, you say, steady, “i’ll leave you boys to figure out what goes on the wheel”

their eyes snap up to you in unison, a chorus of wide-eyed stares. chan shifts forward as if to stop you, then thinks better of it, watching instead.

“where are you going?”, hyunjin blurts, his tone caught between nervous and surprise.

“to my room”, you answer simply, heading towards the hallway with measured steps, “i’ll be waiting for you”

the silence behind you is thick enough to choke on. you feel their gazes trailing after you, the tension winding tighter with every step. but just before you enter your room, you pause, glance back over your shoulder. the smirk tugging at your lips is soft, almost playful, but your voice cuts clean and sure.

“oh, and one more thing”, you add lightly, “i’ll be waiting with fewer clothes. i hope you’ll do the same”

the gasps hit instantly. han chokes on his breath and then mutters “fuck”, under it, minho swears low, changbin’s laugh bursts too loud, too shocked.

you let it hang there, the sound of their disbelief and excitement spilling into the air, and then you slip into your room, closing the door behind you with a quiet click. the last thing you hear is a chorus of groans, swears, and nervous laughter. the sound of eight boys losing their composure all at once.

they’re trying to keep it quiet - you can tell from the way words blur together, low and rushed - but every now and then a laugh slips out, or a sharp swear. you catch fragments, not enough to piece together what they’re planning, and it makes your pulse stutter harder.

you force yourself to turn away from the door, to focus on you. your nerves are loud in your body - heart racing, blood hot, skin prickling like it’s too tight to hold everything in. excitement and tension twist together until it’s hard to breathe.

your hands move before you’ve even decided to do it, peeling your clothes away piece by piece. the soft stretch of your shirt, the slide of your jeans, the warmth of your skin suddenly bare - it all feels magnified, intimate. when you stand naked in the quiet of your room, you finally look down at your underwear.

plain. too plain for tonight. the thought comes sharp, sure. you want them to see you. not just bare - want them to see you ready.

you cross to your drawer, fingers trembling as you dig until you find it: lace. not too much, not overwhelming. just enough to whisper something more dangerous, more deliberate. you strip the cotton away, shivering as the air hits you, and in that moment you realise just how soaked you already are.

the sight of it, the feel of it - it makes your thighs press together instantly, heat flaring between them. your hand almost moves without permission, a twitch towards your centre, the instinct to ease the ache, sharp and unbearable. but you stop yourself, teeth sinking into your lip. not yet. not when it’s them you want, when the whole point is what they’re about to do to you.

slipping into the lace, you feel the shift immediately. the fabric clings in a way the other underwear didn’t, framing rather than hiding, teasing even yourself with the way it barely covers. it’s enough to make you imagine their eyes when they see you, the stutter in their breath, the way their hands might shake. 

you crawl onto your bed, the sheets cool against your skin, nerves thrumming like a live wire. lying back, you stare at the ceiling, listening to the muffled shuffle and murmurs beyond the door.

you’re ready. too ready. and all that’s left is waiting for what’s gonna happen now.

the door creaks open after what feels like forever, your breath catching when hyunjin slips inside. the soft click of the door closing behind him makes the room feel smaller, hotter. he’s only wearing boxers. nothing else. his hair is loose, and your gaze drops instantly to the obvious strain in the thin fabric. the sight makes your thighs press together, heat blooming deeper.

“so…”, your voice comes out a little shaky, so you force a small smirk, trying to steady yourself, “i guess you’re the first participant”

hyunjin’s lips curve, amused, but his eyes are darker than usual, “we spun another wheel for the order, and well…”, he says, moving closer, his voice a low hum, “i guess the number one was me” 

you shift on the bed, leaning back slightly as he climbs onto it, the mattress dipping under his weight. his body radiates warmth when he lies beside you, close enough that your skin prickles, and your fingers instinctively reach for him.

your hand traces the smooth line of his chest, over the flutter of his heartbeat, following down to the ridges of his stomach. you let your nails drag lightly, teasing. 

“are you sure you know what you’re getting into?”, he says, his head tilting in a playful challenge. 

he watches you with parted lips, his breathing heavier, but he doesn’t look away. you let your touch drift lower, fingers just at the waistband of his boxers, and you tilt your head.

“yes but maybe you should give me a hint. how do you plan on making me come, hyunjin?”

for a moment, it almost seems like he might answer. then his hand shoots up, catching your wrist, and in one fluid motion he pins both of your hands above your head against the mattress. your breath hitches, your smirk falters into a gasp.

hyunjin leans over you, his eyes glinting with something sharper now, “that’s for me to know…”, his voice dips, low and rough, “…and for you to find out”

and before you can reply, his mouth crashes onto yours, hungry and claiming. his body pressing yours deeper into the bed as his tongue invades your mouth, claiming every inch. 

you meet him eagerly, your hands roaming up his back after he frees them, nails scraping his skin as you pull him closer. he growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating through you, one hand tangling in your hair to tilt your head back, deepening the kiss until you are dizzy from the lack of air.

he shifts, one knee nudging your legs apart so he can settle fully between them, his hips grinding down once, hard, letting you feel the thick bulge straining against you. you gasp into his mouth, arching up to meet the pressure, your body igniting under his weight. the kiss breaks only for him to trail his lips along your jaw, nipping at the skin before sucking on your earlobe, his breath hot against your ear. 

“you have no idea how many times i’ve thought about you like this”, he whispers, his voice rough and commanding, sending a thrill straight to your core.

he captures your mouth again, fiercer this time, teeth clashing as tongues battle for dominance. his hands slide down your sides, gripping your hips firmly, thumbs digging into the soft flesh as he rocks against you, building friction that makes you whimper.

he moves lower, lips leaving your mouth to attack your neck, sucking hard enough to mark you, tongue soothing the sting before biting down again. you tilt your head, exposing more skin, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging to urge him on. hyunjin chuckles against your throat, the vibration making you shiver, then his mouth descends to your collarbone, kissing and licking a path to your breasts until they find the exposed skin above the lace.

he unhooks your bra, freeing your breasts to the cool air. his eyes darken as he takes you in, then his mouth latches onto one nipple, sucking hard while his hand cups the other, pinching and rolling your nipple until it's aching and sensitive. you moan, your back bowing off the bed, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him tighter against you. 

he switches sides, giving the other nipple the same attention, teeth grazing just enough to border on pain, making you moan loudly.

“that's it, let me hear you”, he murmurs as he kisses back up to your mouth, swallowing your next moan in a kiss. 

his hand drifts lower now, over your stomach, fingers splaying wide to feel your skin. you try to touch him, but he catches your wrist, pinning it above your head with one hand while the other hooks into your underwear, tugging them down your thighs in a slow, deliberate drag.

you kick them off the rest of the way, fully exposed now, your cunt already slick with arousal. hyunjin settles back between your legs, his clothed erection pressing directly against your bare folds, teasing your clit with each subtle shift. you buck up instinctively, seeking more, but he holds your hips down with a firm grip, his eyes locking onto yours. 

“patience”, he says, smirking, before his free hand begins its exploration, “i can only use my fingers on you, that’s what the wheel said”

his fingers trace lazy patterns over your skin, starting at your shoulders before sliding to your sides, ghosting over your ribs. you writhe, the light touches igniting sparks everywhere but where the heat pools between your thighs. he avoids it completely, instead circling your navel, dipping in lightly to make you gasp, then trailing up to your breasts again, thumbs brushing the undersides before pinching your nipples once more.

his mouth follows a similar path - kissing your neck, sucking until your heart races, then down to your breasts, tongue flicking over each nipple in turn, making them throb. you squirm harder, hips lifting searching for friction, your breath coming in short pants. 

“h-hyunjin”, you say, voice needy but not broken yet, “i-i need you” 

he ignores it, his lips claiming your mouth in a searing kiss, tongue thrusting deep as his fingers continue moving, skimming your inner thighs, so close to your cunt that you can feel the warmth of his hand, but always pulling away to trace your hip bones or the curve of your ass.

you twist under him, legs spreading wider, inviting, but he keeps the pressure light, exploring every inch - down to your knees, up the backs of your thighs, avoiding the slick heat at your centre. the ache builds unbearably, your clit pulsing with need, wetness coating your thighs. 

“hyunjin, please i-i can't take it anymore. do something. whatever you want. i need it so bad”, your body shakes, hips bucking wildly against his hold while you beg for him.

finally, his hand slides between your legs, his fingers parting your folds to find your clit, swollen and throbbing. he circles it with deliberate pressure, slow at first, watching your face as you cry out, back arching sharply off the bed.

he slides one finger down through your drenched folds, coating it in your arousal before pressing the tip against your entrance. you feel the stretch as he pushes inside, slow and deliberate, your walls clenching around it like they've been starving for it.

“fuck, you're so wet for me”, he murmurs, his voice rough with desire, lips brushing your ear as he sinks deeper, filling you inch by inch until his finger is buried to the knuckle.

the sensation is overwhelming. he curls his finger hooking against that sensitive spot and you gasp, your hips jerking up to meet him. he adds a second finger without warning, stretching you further while you moan his name and his thumb returns to your clit to rub circles in time with his movements. 

the room echoes with wet and loud sounds as he fucks you with his fingers, building the rhythm until it's relentless, hitting that spot over and over while his other hand pins you down, controlling every buck and twist of your body. he leans in, capturing your mouth in a messy kiss. 

“come for me”, he says against your lips. 

he speeds up and it shatters you - your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, mind-blowing and all-consuming. your walls spasm wildly around his fingers, your back bowing off the bed, screams tearing from your throat.

you come undone completely, soaking his hand with your cum. hyunjin doesn't let up right away, drawing out the pulses with gentler strokes until you're a quivering mess, limp and panting beneath him.

when your orgasm ends, hyunjin eases his fingers from your pulsing core, the wet slide of them leaving you feeling empty and aching. he brings them to his lips, eyes locked on yours, and licks them clean sucking them into his mouth with a low hum that sends shivers down your spine.

“god, you taste even better than i imagined”, he drawls, his voice teasing as you watch, chest heaving, body still buzzing from the high he's just dragged you through.

he chuckles at your dazed expression, leaning down to press a quick, filthy kiss to your forehead before shifting off the bed. he grabs the sheets from the edge and drapes them over your body, like he's reluctant to leave you exposed even if he just wrecked you completely.

“rest a bit, yeah? but don't get too comfortable. i just set the bar sky fucking high for the others”, his grin turns wicked, “good luck to them topping that. they're gonna need it”

you manage a weak laugh, propping yourself up on your elbows despite the way your limbs feel like jelly, “cocky much, hyunjin? you think you're that unforgettable?”

“oh, i know i am”, he shoots back, winking as he heads for the door, “but hey, if they make you scream louder, i'll just have to go again” 

the door clicks shut behind him and you sink back into the pillows, pulling the sheets tighter around you, but the warmth pooling low in your stomach doesn't fade. if anything, it intensifies, a restless heat that makes your thighs clench involuntarily. hyunjin's touch lingers like a ghost - his fingers, his voice, the way he commanded your body without mercy. 

one of them, and you're already shattered, craving more even as your muscles ache from the release. how the hell are you supposed to survive the rest? seven more, each with their own twist from that damn wheel. your mind races, imagining the different possibilities and god, the thought alone has your core twitching, slickness gathering again between your legs. 

you're not sure if you want to laugh or cry at the thought, but the anticipation coils tighter, leaving you squirming under the covers, your nipples hardening against the fabric as you bite your lip.

the door creaks open again before you can spiral too deep, and it’s jeongin who comes inside now, his cheeks already tinged pink as he closes the door behind him. he's dressed in only his boxers too, hair tousled like he paced outside for a minute to work up the nerve. his eyes widen a fraction when he sees you but he recovers quickly, padding over to the bed.

“hi”, he says, voice barely above a whisper as he perches on the edge of the mattress, hands fidgeting in his lap, “i'm... next. the wheel landed on… well something, but, uh, we can take it slow if you want” 

there's a shy hesitation in his tone, his gaze darting to your face then away, like he's trying not to stare at the way the sheet clings to your body. you smile, warmth blooming in your chest at his nervousness. it's endearing, a stark contrast to hyunjin's bold confidence. you reach out to brush your fingers along his arm, feeling the subtle tension in his muscles. 

“jeongin, relax. it's just us here. come closer”, your voice is soft, inviting, and you lean in, closing the distance to press your lips to his in a gentle kiss meant to ease him.

he freezes for a split second, his breath catching, but then he melts into it, his mouth tentative at first, lips soft and unsure as they move against yours. you deepen the kiss slowly, tongue flicking out to trace his lower lip, coaxing him open. a quiet groan rumbles from his throat, and his hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb stroking your skin with growing confidence.

the shyness starts to crack as the kiss heats up. his tongue meets yours now, bolder, exploring with hunger. you feel the shift in him, the way his body angles towards yours, pressing closer until he's half on the bed, one knee dipping the mattress. your hands wander, sliding up his chest feeling the rapid beat of his heart, and he responds by nipping at your lip, a spark of dominance flickering to life.

but just as you try to pull him fully over you, urging him with a soft moan into his mouth, he breaks the kiss with a sharp inhale. his eyes darken, that boyish hesitation giving way to something fiercer, more commanding. in a swift move, he grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head against the headboard with one firm hand, his grip strong but not painful.

“wait”, he breathes, voice low and edged with authority that surprises you both. his free hand trails down your side, bunching the sheet higher to expose your thigh, “it's my turn now. you don't get to lead”

your pulse races at the change, heat flooding your veins as you test his hold - it's solid, his fingers like iron around your wrists, keeping you stretched out and vulnerable beneath him. the sheet slips further, baring your breasts to the cool air, your nipples hardening instantly under his gaze. he moves to hover over you, breath mingling with yours, that shy boy from seconds ago replaced by this intense version, his eyes burning with desire.

“jeongin...”, you whisper, half-protest, half-plea, but it only makes his smirk deepen as he leans down to ghost his lips over your collarbone, not quite touching.

“shh, let me take care of you, it’s my turn”, his words are laced with a newfound dominance, and you can already feel the anticipation building again, your body arching towards him despite the restraint. or maybe it’s because of it.

his eyes flick around the room, scanning the dim corners and scattered items on your dresser with a focused intensity that makes your breath hitch. his grip on your wrists loosens a bit but before you can twist away, he spots it - a long, discarded silk scarf draped over the back of a chair. 

he releases you fully then, sliding off the bed in one fluid motion, his movements purposeful as he snatches it up and returns, the fabric trailing like a whisper in his hand.

“perfect”, he mutters to himself, voice low and edged with excitement, before climbing back onto the mattress, his knees bracketing your hips. 

you watch, heart pounding, as he loops the silk around your wrists with careful precision, binding them together and then securing the ends to the headboard. the material is smooth against your skin, pulling your arms taut above your head until your body stretches out vulnerably beneath him. with a final tug, he tests the knot, satisfied when it holds firm, and then his hands move to the sheet still clinging to your waist.

“now, this needs to go away”

he peels the sheet away slowly, deliberately, exposing every inch of your naked body to his gaze. the flush of your skin, the rise and fall of your breasts, the slick evidence of your earlier release glistening between your thighs. cool air kisses your heated flesh, making your nipples tighten even more into hard peaks, and you squirm under him, a fresh wave of arousal pooling in your core at the way he drinks you in, like you're his to devour.

“jeongin, what-”, your words cut off into a gasp as he surges forward, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss that silences any protest. 

his lips crash against yours, tongue delving deep to claim every corner, tasting and teasing until your head spins. you arch into him instinctively, trying to wrap your arms around his neck, but the silk bites into your wrists, holding you fast. 

the restraint sends a thrill straight to your core, a delicious frustration that only heightens the ache building inside you. you tug harder, testing the bonds, the headboard creaking faintly under the strain, but it doesn’t work, and it only leaves you helpless and exposed, your body writhing for friction you can't quite reach.

he breaks the kiss just enough to trail his mouth along your jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin before his lips brush the shell of your ear, hot breath fanning over you. 

“stop resisting”, he whispers, the words vibrating against your skin, sending shivers down your spine, “the wheel only said i had to tie you up, it didn't say how i should make you come. that means i get to do whatever i want with you” 

his tone dips lower, laced with something dark that makes your thighs clench, arousal dripping from your folds as the reality sinks in - he's in complete control now, and the thought alone has you moaning softly, the sound muffled against his shoulder.

“fuck, jeongin”, you breathe, pulling at the silk again. 

it turns you on more than you expected, this loss of power, the way it forces you to surrender to every sensation he chooses to give you. he smirks against your ear, clearly pleased by your reaction, before sealing his mouth over yours once more, devouring you with a ferocity that steals your breath. 

as he deepens the kiss, one hand slides down your body, tracing the curve of your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple until you whimper into his mouth. he pinches it lightly, rolling it between his fingers, drawing out sparks of pleasure and pain that make your hips buck upward, seeking contact.

his palm continues its descent, dipping into the hollow of your hip before finally reaching your thighs. you feel his fingers brush your clit first, swollen and sensitive from hyunjin's earlier attention, and the light touch has you jolting, a muffled cry escaping as he begins to circle it with slow, deliberate strokes. 

the pressure is perfect, firm enough to build the heat but teasing enough to keep you on the edge, your clit pulsing under his touch as slickness coats his fingertips.

“you’re so responsive”, he murmurs against your lips, swallowing your gasps as he presses harder, rubbing circles that have you restless. 

you kiss him back desperately, your tongue tangling with his, but your mind breaks when he slides two fingers lower, parting your drenched folds and pushing inside your entrance without warning. the stretch is immediate, your walls clenching greedily as he sinks deep, curling them to stroke that spot that has your toes curling.

“jeongin, please... let me touch you”, you plead between kisses, yanking at the restraints harder, but he only thrusts his fingers deeper, pumping them in a steady rhythm, your arousal easing the way as he fucks you with his hand.

his other hand braces beside your head, and you feel his body pressing down, his thigh slotting between yours. you sense the hard ridge of his bulge grinding against your leg, rocking in time with his fingers' thrusts. 

the friction must be maddening for him too - his hips roll forward, dragging his clothed cock along your skin, the heat of him seeping through, making you clench tighter around his fingers. a low groan rumbles from his throat into your mouth, his kisses turning sloppy, breaths coming in sharp pants as he keeps moving while driving you higher.

“you feel that?”, he groans, nipping at your lower lip as his fingers crook inside you, hitting that spot relentlessly, “that's what you’re doing to me. i’m so fucking hard for you, y/n” 

his rocking intensifies, the bulge twitching against your thigh, pre-cum likely soaking through his boxers, but he doesn't stop, doesn't seek his own release. his focus stays on you, fingers moving deeper, thumb returning to your clit.

his fingers have you spiraling, every pull at the silk amplifying the sensations until you're a mess of moans and pleas. but just as the coil in your stomach winds unbearably tight, he pulls his fingers free with a slick pop, leaving you whining at the emptiness. 

“not yet”, he says, voice rough with restraint, eyes dark as he shifts down your body, kissing a path along your sternum, over each breast - sucking a nipple into his mouth briefly, teeth grazing just enough to make you arch - before continuing lower, tongue dipping into your navel, then tracing the line of your hipbone.

your hands strain against the restraint, wrists chafing slightly from the silk, but the burn only fuels the fire, making you drip onto the sheets as he settles between your spread thighs. he hooks your legs over his shoulders, his hands gripping your hips to hold you open, and then his mouth is on you - hot, wet, and unrelenting. 

his tongue flattens against your clit first, lapping in broad strokes that collect your arousal, the flavor drawing a hungry hum from him that vibrates through your core.

“oh god”, you cry out, your head falling back as he sucks your clit between his lips, flicking the tip with precise, rapid strokes that have your thighs trembling around his head. 

you pull at the restraints desperately now, the need to grab his hair, to guide him, overwhelming, but the silk holds you captive, forcing you to take every lick, every suck, without mercy. his tongue moves lower, spearing into your entrance, thrusting like his fingers earlier, tasting you deep while his nose bumps your clit, the pressure building in waves that crash over you.

he eats you out like it’s the only thing he can do, alternating between swirling around your clit and plunging inside, one hand sliding up to pinch and twist your nipple while the other digs into your thigh, bruising in the best way. your body writhes, hips grinding up into his face, chasing the release that's so close, so intense with the added layer of helplessness.

“jeongin... fuck, i'm- don't stop”, you gasp, the words tumbling out in a rush as the tension snaps.

your orgasm hits like a freight train, ripping through you with white-hot force as pleasure pulses from your core outward. you scream his name, your back bowing off the bed, every muscle seizing in ecstasy while he doesn't let up. it's mind-shattering, leaving you boneless and shaking, your breaths coming in ragged sobs as the high snaps and begins to lessen.

“breathe”, he murmurs, his voice tender now as he works his way back up, hovering over you to pepper your face with light kisses. 

his hand reaches up, fingers untying the silk from the headboard, then unwinding it from your wrists, rubbing the faint red marks with his thumbs in soothing circles. you collapse fully once you’re freed, arms flopping to the mattress, body humming with aftershocks as you blink up at him, dazed and sated. he rolls to the side, a soft smile curving his lips as he brushes sweat-damp hair from your forehead.

“you okay? that was... intense”

“yeah”, you manage, your voice hoarse, and a lazy grin spreading across your face despite the exhaustion, “way more than i expected from you, mr. shy”

he laughs, low and genuine, tracing idle patterns on your arm, “hey, someone's gotta keep this game interesting” 

there's a playful glint in his eye, the dominance fading back into his usual warmth, though the memory of it lingers, making your skin tingle.

you chuckle weakly, nudging his shoulder, “damn, jeongin... you really wrecked me”

“good”, he says simply, leaning in for one last, soft kiss that tastes of you. he sits up, grabbing the discarded sheet and draping it over you, “whoever's next is gonna have a tough act to follow”

with that, he slips off the bed, adjusting his boxers before heading to the door. he pauses there, glancing back with a wink, “see you soon”

the door clicks shut, leaving you alone again. your chest heaves as you lie there, the sheet pulled up to your chin, body still tingling from jeongin's turn. the room feels warmer now, heavy with the scent of sex and sweat, and your mind races - replaying the silk binding your wrists, the way his tongue had unraveled you completely.

the door creaks open softly, pulling you from your haze, and felix steps in, your eyes going straight to the fabric of his boxers tenting slightly already. his presence lights up the dim space like a burst of sunlight - freckles dusting his cheeks, that signature grin splitting his face wide, eyes crinkling with genuine warmth. 

he closes the door behind him with a quiet click, going over to the bed on bare feet, his steps light and unhurried, radiating that effortless sunshine energy that always makes everything feel a little less intense.

“hey”, he says softly, voice like honey as he sits down on the edge of the mattress, one hand resting casually on your covered knee, “you look... wow. everything okay in here?” 

his gaze sweeps over you, concern mingling with curiosity, but there's no judgment, just that sweet attentiveness that draws you in. you nod, managing a small smile despite the flush creeping back up your neck. 

“yeah, just... catching my breath. it's been a lot already”

he chuckles lightly, shifting to lie down beside you, propping his head on one hand while the other traces idle circles on the sheet over your thigh. his body heat seeps through the fabric, comforting and close, a stark contrast to the raw dominance of the boys before him. 

“i can imagine. hyunjin and jeongin, huh? i’m sure they didn't hold back. how are you really feeling? no regrets about this whole wheel thing?”, his tone is gentle, probing without pressure, like he genuinely cares about your headspace amid the chaos.

“no regrets”, you say, turning your head to meet his eyes, the sincerity in them melting some of the tension from your muscles, “it's intense, but... kinda thrilling? i mean, it's you guys. i trust you” 

your voice softens, and he nods, his free hand reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, thumb lingering on your cheek.

“good. wouldn't want you uncomfortable. this is supposed to be fun, right? for all of us”, he pauses, his grin turning playful, “though i gotta say that, hearing the sounds from the hallway... you really are making it hard not to rush in”

a laugh bubbles up from you, easing the knot in your chest. 

“so lixie, what about you? what's your plan? did the wheel pick something wild?”

felix's eyes sparkle with mischief, but he shakes his head, leaning in closer until his breath fans your lips. 

“you'll just have to wait and see. no spoilers. but trust me, it'll be worth it” 

before you can press further, he closes the distance between you, capturing your mouth in a kiss that's soft and unhurried, his lips molding to yours with a tenderness that surprises you. it's commanding in its gentleness, his hand cupping your jaw to tilt your head, guiding the rhythm without force, his tongue slipping past your lips to taste you slowly, deeply.

you melt into it instantly, the vibe shifting to something sweeter, calmer, like sinking into warm water after a storm. his kisses draw out soft sighs from you as your body relaxes under the sheet, the earlier frenzy fading into this delicate intimacy. even knowing where this leads - another peak, another wave -  it feels different with him, less like a challenge and more like a shared secret.

he deepens the kiss gradually, a low hum vibrating from his chest as he shifts, rolling smoothly on top of you, his weight settling between your legs with careful pressure. the sheet bunches between your bodies, but he doesn't rush to remove it yet, content to lose himself in your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue. 

your hands find his shoulders, fingers digging into the firm muscle there, and he smiles against your lips, breaking away only to trail feather-light kisses down your jaw, your throat, each one lingering on your skin.

“you look so beautiful like this”, he murmurs, his voice muffled against your collarbone as his mouth continues its descent, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the swell of your breasts over the sheet. 

slowly, he peels the fabric down, exposing your skin inch by inch - the curve of your ribs, the dip of your navel - until it pools at your waist, leaving you almost bare once more. the cool air hardens your nipples, but his warm breath follows, chasing away the chill as he kisses the underside of one breast, then the other, his tongue flicking out to circle the tight bud without fully taking it in yet.

you arch your body slightly, a quiet moan escaping your mouth as his lips map your body, soft and exploratory, down the plane of your stomach, pausing to suck gently at the sensitive skin just above your hip. 

he hooks the sheet lower still, tugging it free completely and letting it slide off the bed, his hands now gliding along your sides, thumbs brushing your hips in soothing strokes. the tenderness builds the heat slowly, a simmer rather than a blaze, making your thighs part instinctively, inviting him closer.

felix kisses lower, his lips ghosting over the inside of your thigh, then the other, his freckled cheeks brushing your skin as he nuzzles there, inhaling deeply. 

“god, you smell amazing”, he whispers, the words laced with awe, before pressing a kiss to your knee, then trailing back up, tongue darting out to taste the salt of your skin. 

your pulse quickens, anticipation coiling low in your stomach as he nears your core, but he takes his time, kissing the place where thigh meets pelvis, teasing without mercy. finally, he settles between your legs, his hands gently spreading your thighs wider, and looks up at you with that sunny smile, but his eyes are dark with desire. 

“i hope all that kissing gave you a clue”, he says, voice playful yet husky, before dipping his head and dragging his tongue flat along your slit in one long, deliberate lick that has you gasping.

he devours you then, his mouth sealing over your cunt with fervent hunger, but it's all soft edges, his tongue swirling around your clit in lazy circles, lapping at your folds with broad, wet strokes that collect every drop of your arousal. 

no fingers, just the heat of his mouth, sucking gently on your swollen clit before flicking it with the tip of his tongue, the sensations building in gentle waves that make your toes curl.

“fuck, felix”, you moan out loud, the sound echoing in the room as your hands fly to his hair, fingers threading through the strands, tugging lightly to urge him on. 

he groans into you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine, and he doubles his efforts, tongue plunging into your entrance briefly before retreating to circle your clit again, relentless yet tender.

“that's it, good girl”, he praises between licks, words muffled but clear, his breath hot against your slick skin, “so sweet for me, you taste like heaven. let me take care of you, yeah? just relax and feel it” 

his dirty talk is soft, encouraging, wrapping around you like a caress as he sucks your clit harder, his tongue pressing flat and rubbing in firm, rhythmic strokes that have your hips lifting off the bed.

you ride his face unashamedly now, your thighs clamping around his head, grinding down to chase the pleasure he's building so expertly. his hands grip your hips, holding you steady but not restricting, letting you move as you need while his mouth works you over - tongue delving deep one moment, then fluttering rapidly over your clit the next, drawing out whimpers and gasps that fill the air.

the coil tightens, sweet and insistent, your walls fluttering with the hints of release as he hums approval, the sound buzzing through your core.

“come on, baby, you're doing so well for me”, he murmurs, pulling back just enough to blow cool air over your heated flesh before diving back in, his lips wrapping around your clit and sucking with perfect pressure. 

it's too much, the tenderness compared to the previous dominance pushing you over the edge - your orgasm crashes through you in a rush of warmth, your hips bucking wildly against his mouth as pleasure pulses from your cunt outward, every nerve alight.

felix doesn't stop, his tongue lapping softly through the spasms, easing you through it with gentle licks that prolong the bliss without overwhelming you. your cries soften to breathy sighs, your body trembling as the high fades, and he presses one last kiss to your inner thigh before crawling back up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his grin returning with full force.

“hey, you with me?”, he asks softly, hovering over you, a bit of concern etching his features as he brushes your hair back, his eyes searching yours.

still panting, you reach up and pull him down into a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. it's languid, grateful, your tongues sliding together as you pour your thanks into it. he kisses back with the same tenderness, his hand stroking your side until your heart rate slows.

when you break apart, he grabs the fallen sheet, drawing it up over your body with care, tucking it around you. you look up at him with a soft smile. 

“felix, that felt so good... thank you” 

“anything for you. you deserve it all”, he chuckles lightly, his eyes warm as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. 

he leans in for one more soft peck on your lips, lingering just a second, “you're incredible, you know that?”

you laugh against his lips and, with a final wink, he slips off the bed, adjusting his boxers where his erection strains obviously against the fabric, but he doesn't push for more. the door opens and closes quietly behind him, leaving you alone again, as you wonder who comes next.

your body still hums with the gentle aftershocks of felix's touch, the sheet tangled around you as you stare at the ceiling, when the door swings open barely a minute later, and minho slips in, his body clad only in black boxers that cling to his thighs. his sharp eyes lock onto you immediately, a smirk curling his lips as he shuts the door with a soft thud.

you catch sight of him and can't help the laugh that comes out, a mix of exhaustion and thrill twisting in your gut. you know minho - his playful edge hides dominance, and the thought of him here, in this game, spells nothing but trouble. he pauses, eyebrow arching as he crosses the room, his feet silent on the floor, that smirk widening into a grin.

“what's so funny?”, he asks, voice low and teasing as he reaches the bed, leaning against the footboard with arms crossed over his chest, his muscles flexing subtly. 

his gaze rakes over you, lingering on the way the sheet wraps around your body, hinting at your curves. another giggle escapes, and you prop yourself up on your elbows, meeting his eyes with a playful glint. 

“you. i just know trouble's walking through the door. like… big trouble”

he laughs then, moving to climb on beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. 

“oh yeah? and what makes you think that? maybe i'm here to tuck you in and call it a night”, his tone drips with sarcasm, but his hand finds your knee, squeezing lightly, the touch electric even through the fabric.

“sure you are”, you shoot back, rolling your eyes but leaning into his warmth anyway, the banter flowing easy like always, “what's the wheel got you doing this round? something that will break me?”

minho's grin turns wicked, his fingers tracing lazy patterns up your thigh, stopping just short of where the sheet ends. 

“break you? no, just bend you a little. make you scream my name louder than the others. but first... where do you keep it?”

you blink, confusion furrowing your brow as his hand stills, “keep what? my sanity? because it's long gone now”

he chuckles, shaking his head, but there's a glint in his eyes now, sharper, more intent, “come on, don't play dumb. you know what i mean”

“i have no idea what you're talking about, minho”

he narrows his eyes, playful suspicion lighting his features, and without another word, he slides off the bed, rummaging through your nightstand drawer first. you watch, propped up now, laughter spilling out at the absurdity of the situation as he tosses aside a book, some lotion, muttering under his breath. 

“not here... ah, found it” 

the drawer slams shut, and he straightens, holding your vibrator in one hand. he flicks it on with his thumb, the low buzz filling the air, and your laughter dies in your throat.

the playful minho vanishes in an instant, replaced by something darker, more commanding. his jaw sets, eyes darkening as he turns back to you, the vibrator humming steadily in his grip. heat floods your core at the sight, your cunt clenching emptily, arousal slicking your thighs again. 

you almost come right there, on the spot, just from the intensity in his stare, the way he holds the toy like a weapon meant only for you, which in a way it is.

“you said trouble, huh?”, he murmurs, voice dropping an octave as he moves to the bed again, climbing on with predatory look on his face, “you have no idea” 

he doesn't wait, yanking the sheet away in one fluid motion, exposing your naked body to the cool air - nipples hardening instantly, your skin flushing under his gaze. you gasp, but he’s already beside you, one strong hand capturing both of yours, pinning them above your head with effortless strength, his fingers wrapped around your wrists.

his free hand trails the buzzing toy down your arm first, teasing the sensitive underside before circling your breast, the vibrations sending jolts straight to your clit. 

“minho…”, you breathe, arching into it as he presses the tip to one nipple, rolling it slowly, watching your face with his full attention. 

the sensation buzzes through you, sharp and insistent, making your toes curl as he leans in, his mouth finding your neck, teeth grazing the pulse point before sucking hard enough to mark.

“shh, just feel it”, he whispers against your skin, his lips brushing your jaw next, nipping lightly as the vibrator dances over your other nipple. 

your body writhes under him, your breaths coming in pants, the assault of his mouth and the toy building a fire low in your stomach. he kisses you then, claiming your lips in a deep, possessive press, his tongue moving in time with the vibrations, swallowing your moans as he drags the toy lower, tracing your ribs, your navel, teasing the edge of your hip.

“please”, you whimper when he pulls back, the word slipping out but he just smirks, holding your gaze as he settles the vibrator against your clit - light at first, then firmer, the buzz intensifying every nerve until you're bucking against his hold.

“not yet”, he says, voice firm but laced with an underlying care, never crossing into cruelty. 

his mouth returns to your neck, sucking a fresh bruise while the toy circles your swollen clit, dipping briefly to your entrance before retreating, leaving you soaked and desperate. your hands strain against his grip, wanting to touch him, to pull him closer, but he keeps you pinned, dominant in every line of his body as he watches you unravel.

the pleasure coils tighter, your thighs trembling, but he eases off just as you teeter on the edge, kissing along your jaw, murmuring against your skin. 

“beg for it. tell me what you want”

“minho, please- fuck, i need it inside. make me come, please”, you plead, your voice breaking, your hips grinding air as the vibrator hums against your inner thigh now, so close yet denying you of what you want.

satisfaction flickers in his eyes, and he releases your hands only to move himself, kneeling between your spread legs, his boxers tented with his hard cock straining beneath. 

“good girl”, he praises softly, positioning the toy at your entrance, the tip vibrating against your wet folds. 

his other hand grips your hip, steadying you as he pushes it in slowly, inch by inch, the tip stretching you, buzzing deep against your walls, hitting that place that makes you almost come right on the spot.

you cry out, your back bowing off the bed as he thrusts it deeper, his mouth crashing back to yours in a searing kiss - tongues tangling, his teeth catching your lip as he fucks you with the vibrator, steady and unrelenting. 

the overstimulation builds fast, your cunt fluttering around the toy, your clit throbbing from the earlier teasing. he angles it just right inside you, grinding the base against your folds for extra vibration, his body hovering over yours, heat radiating from his skin.

“that's it, take it all”, he groans into your mouth, his pace quickening, the toy thrusting in and out with wet, loud sounds that mix with your gasps. 

he moves down your body, his lips finding one of your nipples before he wraps his teeth around it, making you scream while you arch your back towards him again. he moves his head to the other nipple, this time circling it with his tongue before he starts kissing down your body, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses over your stomach until his breath fans across your clit. he sucks it into his mouth with hunger, his tongue flicking the swollen clit in time with the vibrator's thrusts, making your hips buck wildly.

your hands fly to his hair, nails digging in as the coil snaps. your orgasm rips through you violently, your walls clamping down on the vibrator as pleasure explodes, a gush of wetness squirting lightly around the toy, soaking his hand and mouth and the sheets beneath you. 

it's intense, overwhelming, your body shaking as waves crash over you, but minho doesn't stop, thrusting the toy through the spasms, drawing out every shake of your body until tears prick your eyes. 

“minho-  it’s t-too much”, you finally gasp, your voice hoarse, and he eases it out immediately, turning it off with a click, his touch turning gentle as he sets it aside, just before he presses another kiss to your clit. 

before he pulls away from you fully, he kisses his way up your body until he reaches your neck, biting it sharply -  his teeth sinking in just enough to draw another moan from your lips. you arch into it, moaning, but he silences the sound with his mouth, kissing you deeply, possessively.

“i hope i win this game”, he murmurs against your lips, his voice husky with satisfaction, a smirk playing as he hovers there a second longer, his eyes locked on yours.

he pecks your lips quickly again and then he's gone, slipping off the bed with fluid grace, adjusting his boxers too as he heads for the door giving you a quick smirk as he leaves your room. 

the door clicks shut behind him, leaving you sprawled naked on the rumpled sheets, body limp and spent, your cunt still twitching with aftershocks, slick dripping down your thighs. for the first time since the night started, doubt creeps in: can you really do this? four more after the ones already here? 

your mind spins, your chest tight, but even as you question it, hunger stirs low again, high and insatiable, pulling you towards whatever comes next.

the door opens again sooner than you expect, your body still sprawled bare on the bed, your skin glistening with sweat and what’s left of your release, thighs slick from the vibrator's relentless work. 

changbin steps in, his broad shoulders filling the frame, the prominent bulge of his cock already half-hard that you can see from his boxers. his eyes widen for a split second as he takes you in - completely exposed, legs parted slightly, your cunt still puffy and wet - before a deep, rumbling laugh escapes him. he closes the door softly, shaking his head as he approaches the bed.

“damn, look at you”, he says, his voice full with amusement and heat, his gaze tracing every curve from your breasts to the mess between your legs, “i’m the one that’s supposed to come here and tease you until you’re begging me to stop, not the other way around. i think i might come just from seeing you like this”

you can't help but laugh, the sound breathy and tired, your chest rising and falling as you meet his eyes. the absurdity of it all - him walking in on you like this, the game turning everything upside down - eases the lingering ache from minho's dominance. 

“guilty”, you say, propping yourself up on one elbow, though your limbs feel like jelly, “but yeah, i just… come here, give me a couple minutes, please. minho was intense. like, really intense. and i haven't even caught my breath from the previous rounds”

changbin's expression softens, that protective side of him surfacing as he nods, climbing onto the bed with careful movements, the mattress sinking under him. he lies beside you, his arm resting lightly on your hip - close but not pushing, his warmth seeping into your skin.

“take all the time you need”, he murmurs, his thumb stroking soothing circles, “how's it been so far? felix told me a bit, but i want to hear from you. you okay? regretting jumping into this game?”

you sigh, turning towards him, the sheet completely forgotten at the foot of the bed. his presence grounds you, familiar and steady after the whirlwind of the others. 

“it's... wild. hyunjin set this insane bar right away, but then jeongin surprised me, started shy, then tied me up and i think i even begged him at some point, i don’t remember. felix was all sweet and gentle, like he was worshiping me. and minho? god, he used my vibrator and just... took control, i felt like i was going crazy. but yeah, i'm okay. overwhelmed, but in a good way. it's like my body's on fire, but i don't want to stop. i can’t stop”

he listens intently, nodding, his hand sliding up to brush a strand of hair from your face.

“sounds like they're all trying to outdo each other. but you're handling it like a pro. makes me proud”, a pause, then his lips change into a grin, “you're lucky with me, though. the wheel spun something different this time. you get to choose how you come. i'm all yours. whatever you want, however you want it. you're in control”

his words hang in the air, and you feel it immediately - a fresh pulse of arousal clenching through your core, your cunt dripping, walls fluttering around nothing. the realisation hits like a spark: all the boys before have teased, licked, vibrated you to shattering peaks, but none have filled you. no cock stretching you open, no hot cum flooding deep. minho was close with the vibrator, but not enough. you need it now, that deep, claiming thrust. 

your eyes flick to changbin's boxers, the outline of his thick length twitching under the fabric, and heat pools low in your stomach immediately.

“anything?”, you ask, your voice almost a whisper as you shift closer, testing the waters without spilling your desperate thoughts. your hand trails over his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle under smooth skin.

“anything”, he confirms, his eyes darkening with want, his free hand covering yours to guide it lower, like he can read your mind and knows everything you want to do with him, “you can use me however you want. ride my face, my cock, my fingers… tell me, and it's yours”

that seals it. 

you surge forward, capturing his mouth in a hungry kiss, lips parting as your tongues slide together, tasting the previous drink you had had before on his breath. he groans into it, his hand cupping the back of your neck to pull you deeper, but he lets you lead - the kiss turning sloppy, wet, your teeth nipping his lower lip as you move to straddle his hips. 

his cock hardens fully beneath you, the thin barrier of his boxers doing nothing to hide how thick and ready he is, pressing up against your soaked folds. you grind down slowly at first, rubbing your cunt along the length of him through the fabric, the friction sending sparks up your spine. 

“fuck, changbin”, you moan against his mouth, your hips rolling in deliberate circles, coating his boxers with your slick. 

he bucks up instinctively, his hands gripping your thighs, but he controls himself, letting you set the pace, though his breaths come ragged, chest heaving.

“that's it, baby”, he says, breaking the kiss to trail his lips along your jaw, nipping your earlobe, “grind on me like you own me. can you feel how hard you make me? this is all for you”

the praise fuels you, and you reach down, fingers hooking into his waistband, tugging his boxers down with urgent tugs. he lifts his hips to help you, kicking them off, and his cock springs free - heavy, veined, the tip already leaking pre-cum, moving towards his abs. 

you wrap your hand around the base, stroking once, twice, feeling him throb in your grip, before positioning yourself above him. the head nudges your entrance, slick and open from the earlier orgasms, and you sink down inch by inch, a long, drawn-out moan escaping you as he stretches you wide.

“oh god, yes”, you gasp, bottoming out with a shudder, his cock buried deep, filling the emptiness that's haunted you since the game began. 

he feels perfect, thick enough to press every ridge inside you, the head kissing your spot. you pause there, adjusting, clenching around him experimentally, and changbin hisses, his hands flexing on your hips.

“fuck, you're so tight”, he growls, his voice strained with restraint, “ride me, yeah? take what you need. bounce on this cock like it's yours”

you do, lifting yourself up until just the tip remains, then slamming back down, the slap of skin echoing in the room. pleasure blooms sharp and immediate, your clit grinding against his pelvis with each drop. you set a steady rhythm, your hands braced on his chest for leverage, nails scraping over his nipples as you fuck yourself on him. 

“changbin, i-it feels so good… i’m so full”, you pant, your head tipping back, breasts bouncing with every thrust.

he watches you with hooded eyes, one hand sliding up to palm your breast, thumb flicking the hardened nipple. 

“look at you, taking me so well. your cunt is gripping me like it never wants to let go. you love this, don't you?”, his words spur you faster, hips snapping down harder, the wet sounds of your arousal mixing with his grunts, “moan for me, louder, let me hear how much you need it”

“changbin, fuck yes, harder”, you cry, chasing the building heat, your walls fluttering around his length as you grind deeper. the angle hits that spot inside with every move, stars flickering at the edges of your vision.

your hands shift to his shoulders, gripping tight, and he reads the cue instantly, sitting up with effortless strength, wrapping one arm around your waist to pull you flush against him. the new position drives him even deeper, his chest pressing to yours, and he captures your mouth in a bruising kiss, your tongues battling as he takes over the thrusts from below. his hips snap up powerfully, his cock thrusting into you with controlled force, the bed creaking under your movements.

“that's my girl”, he murmurs between kisses, his lips trailing to your neck, sucking a mark into the skin, “fuck yourself on me, i’m gonna fill you up soon, make you drip with my cum”

you whimper, lost in the rhythm, his free hand moving between your bodies to find your clit. his fingers circle the swollen bud with firm pressure, rubbing in tight loops that match his thrusts. the sensations shatters you, pleasure grows viciously tight, your thighs shaking and trembling around him.

“changbin, i-i'm close, don't stop”, you beg, nails digging into his back, body arching as the orgasm moves towards you.

“come with me”, he demands, his voice rough, thrusts turning erratic as his cock swells inside you, “come on, baby, squeeze me dry” 

his fingers pinch your clit lightly, and that's it, the dam breaks. you shatter around him, your cunt convulsing in waves, walls clamping down as ecstasy rips through you, a sharp cry of his name tearing from your throat. he follows seconds later, groaning deep and long, his hips jerking as hot spurts of cum flood your depths, painting your insides for the first time in this endless game - warm, claiming, finally satisfying that ache.

you collapse against him, boneless and trembling, his arms holding you close as aftershocks ripple through both of you. his cock softens slowly inside, keeping you full, cum starting to leak as he shifts. 

“you okay?”, he whispers, kissing your temple softly, his hand rubbing your back in soothing strokes.

“more than okay”, you mumble, nuzzling into his neck, the intimacy wrapping around you like a blanket. 

he eases you off gently, a wet sound accompanying as he slips out, his cum trickling down your thigh. changbin grabs a tissue from the nightstand, wiping you clean with tender care - swiping along your folds, your inner thighs, making sure you're comfortable before pulling the sheet up over your body.

“wow, i can’t believe you’re holding out so well”, he says, pressing a final kiss to your forehead, his smile warm and genuine, “you did amazing, love” 

you smile weakly up at him, your body still humming from the intensity, “thanks, changbin... you were incredible too”

he laughs, lingering for a moment as he strokes your cheek, “i’m glad i could make it good for you. just… rest until the next one comes in, okay?”

he slips off the bed, tugging his boxers back on, and heads for the door, leaving you curled under the covers - body sated yet already stirring with anticipation again, the fullness of his cum still lingering inside. excitement bubbles up despite the exhaustion. whatever's next, you're ready, craving the next wave. 

not even a minute passes when the door clicks open once more, pulling you from the afterglow of changbin's touch, your body still humming with the warmth of his cum deep inside. 

seungmin slips in, only in loose dark boxers, a smirk playing on his lips as he spots you under the sheet - flushed, disheveled, eyes heavy-lidded. he walks with that signature playful glint in his eyes, kicking off his slippers before flopping down beside you, propping himself up like he's settling in for a casual chat.

“wow, you look wrecked already”, he teases, his voice light and mocking, poking your arm gently, “what? did changbin just steamroll you? or are you playing up the damsel in distress to get sympathy from me?”

you roll your eyes, swatting his hand away with a laugh, the sheet slipping slightly to reveal the curve of your shoulder. 

“oh please, like you could do better. he's got that whole powerhouse thing going on. you're just here to talk my ear off, aren't you? the wheel probably said ‘bore her until she falls asleep’”

he snorts, shifting closer, his leg brushing yours under the covers, “hey, i could bore you right into an orgasm if i wanted. but no, i'm a fun one. unlike minho, who probably bossed you around like a drill sergeant. tell me, did he make you salute first?”

“shut up”, you say, shoving his shoulder, but there's no real heat in it, just the easy bickering that always sparks between you two. 

he grabs your wrist playfully, tugging you towards him, and you tug back, both of you dissolving into chuckles as he finally relents, lying flat on his back with his arms behind his head.

“you're impossible, you know that?”, you tell him between laughs.

“and you're insatiable, from the looks of it”, he fires back, glancing at the faint marks on your neck from the others. 

the banter flows for a minute more - seungmin poking fun at changbin again, you recalling again jeongin's surprise dominance - until something shifts. his eyes soften, the smirk fading into a genuine smile, and he reaches out to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. 

the touch lingers, warm and unhurried, and a pull tugs at your chest, drawing you in like gravity. without thinking, you lean over, cupping his face and pressing your lips to his.

the kiss starts soft, tentative, but it turns hungry quickly, his mouth careful at first then claiming yours, tongues brushing in a slow dance that draws a low moan from your throat. he hums in response, the sound vibrating against your lips, and you deepen it, tasting the faint sweetness of him as your bodies move closer. 

your hands roam freely - yours slide up his chest, your fingers tracing every inch of skin that they find, dipping into the dips of his hips; his hands thread through your hair, down your back, palms splaying over your ass to pull you flush, but he skips your core, teasing the edges without diving in. 

you explore his shoulders, the strength in his arms, nails scraping lightly over his collarbone, while his thumbs circle your waist, ghosting the undersides of your breasts, sending shivers racing across your skin.

moans slip out unbidden - yours breathy and needy, his deeper, muffled against your mouth - as the makeout turns more desperate, lips swollen and slick, your breaths mingling in hot pants. 

you break for air, nipping his jaw, and your hand snakes down to capture his, guiding it towards the heat between your thighs, aching for friction on your swollen clit. but he stops you, fingers intertwining with yours, holding firm as he pulls back slightly, his eyes dark but gentle. 

“wait, no, i can't do that”, he murmurs, his voice almost broken, his forehead resting against yours.

“why not?”, you whine, your hips shifting restlessly, the emptiness inside clenching at the denial, “what did the wheel say this time? come on, seungmin, touch me i need it, i need you”

a slow grin spreads across his face, and he moves suddenly, rolling on top of you, the sheet tangling around your legs as he settles between them, leaving you completely exposed once again. his boxers tent obviously now, the hard line of his cock pressing against your thigh, leaking pre-cum that soaks through the fabric, hot and insistent. 

he braces on his forearms, caging you in, and leans down to whisper against your lips, “the wheel said this” 

with that, he moves one arm and shoves his boxers down, freeing his cock before he lines up with your entrance, pushing in with one smooth, deliberate thrust. the stretch rips a guttural moan from your chest, raw and primal. he sinks deep, bottoming out with a shared gasp, your cunt fluttering around him, still slick from changbin's release mixing with your fresh arousal. 

your hands fly to his back, your nails digging into the flexing muscles as you arch up, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer. 

“seungmin- fuck, yes”, you groan, the sensation overwhelming, every inch of him dragging against your sensitive spots.

he doesn't rush, starting with shallow moves of his hips, but the tenderness shines through. his mouth finds yours again, kissing you deeply, slowly, like he's savoring every second. 

“you feel incredible”, he breathes between presses of lips, moving to your neck, sucking softly at the pulse point, then your jaw, nipping the skin there with affectionate bites. 

it's different from the others. this feels intimate, like he's pouring himself into you, making love with a sweetness that surprises you, his thrusts measured and loving, grinding deep to hit that bundle of nerves inside.

you melt under it, your hands roaming his back, pulling at his hair as he kisses a path back to your mouth, tongues tangling while his hips roll in a steady rhythm, his cock sliding in and out with wet, filthy sounds.

“god, you look so good like this”, he murmurs against your lips, voice soft when he praises you, one hand cupping your breast, his thumb rolling the nipple gently, “taking me like this” 

the praise wraps around you, heightening every sensation, your body responding with clenches that make him shudder, his kisses turning sloppy, breath hitching as he nuzzles your jaw, whispering even more soft words between thrusts.

the build is gradual, tightening low in your stomach, his tenderness drawing it out until it's unbearable. his cock throbs inside you, the pace quickening just enough, his lips never leaving your skin, kissing your mouth hungrily now, swallowing your moans. 

“come for me, yeah? let go, i've got you,” he says, his voice breaking slightly, and you do, you come, shattering around him in an earth-shattering climax, waves crashing through you, your cunt spasming wildly as ecstasy rips a scream from your throat, muffled by his kiss. 

he follows with a choked groan, burying deep and pulsing, hot jets of cum spilling into you, mixing with your own fluids, filling you to overflowing.

you tremble beneath him, the intensity bordering on too much, your body overstimulated, never coming down from the endless pleasure as tears prick your eyes from the overload. he stays inside for a moment, kissing your forehead, your cheeks, soft and soothing, before pulling out gently, your fluids leaking out onto the sheets.

“you alright?”, he asks, rolling to the side and grabbing tissues from the nightstand, his touch light as he wipes between your legs, careful over the sensitive folds, then your thighs. 

you nod, a bubbly laugh escaping as you look at him, cleaning you after he destroyed you in the sweetest way possible.

“yeah, just... wow. you're a lot sweeter than i expected”, you say, giggling when he cleans at a stray spot on your hip.

he chuckles too, the sound warm, leaning in for one last peck on your nose. 

“what can i say? the wheel's got good taste and i’m a gentleman. but don't tell the others, i've got a reputation to uphold”, he tucks the sheet over you again, ensuring you're covered, then puts his boxers back on, standing with a stretch, “although if you prefer a not so sweet version, i could go again for another round”

you wave him off with another shared laugh, soft words trailing as he heads to the door - promises of great remarks about his ‘performance’, teasing jabs about the little game you’re playing - before he slips out, leaving you blissed out, your still body aching.

the minutes stretch longer than before, the room's quiet amplifying every thump of your heart against your ribs, a frantic rhythm that echoes the slick heat still seeping from your core. you're a mess of aftershocks, seungmin's tenderness lingering in the ache between your thighs, the mingled cum trickling out of you, soaking the sheets beneath you even more. your skin prickles with anticipation, your body thrumming with an insatiable pull, craving the next wave to crash over you. 

when the handle finally turns, you push up on your elbows, the sheet pooling at your waist, exposing your breasts to the cool air as chan steps in. he's in nothing but black boxers, his broad shoulders filling the frame, his eyes locking on you with that warm, knowing gaze that makes your stomach flip.

“damn, you look like you've been through a war and won every battle”, he says, his voice low and appreciative, a smile tugging at his lips as he closes the door softly behind him. 

his eyes trace the flush on your cheeks, the bite marks scattering your neck and collarbone like badges of the night's indulgences.

you laugh, the sound breathy and relieved, patting the bed beside you, “come on, lie down with me. i need a second to catch my breath before you start interrogating me in your leader mode”

he chuckles, easing onto the mattress, stretching out on his side facing you, one arm propping his head. the bed dips under his weight, his presence solid and reassuring, like an anchor in the storm of sensations swirling inside you. 

“how are you holding up? seriously, tell me if it's too much. we've got the whole group watching out for you, you know” 

his tone shifts to that caring edge, the one he uses in meetings or late night talks, scanning your face for any sign of fatigue or discomfort, his free hand resting lightly on your arm, his thumb stroking a soothing circle.

“it's intense, but good intense”, you tell him, shifting closer, your knee brushing his, “like, overwhelming in the best way. everyone's been... different, you know? but i'm okay. more than okay” 

the small talk flows easy - you recount bits of the banter with seungmin, the way felix's sweetness melted you, how minho pushed you to edges you didn't know you had - and he listens intently, nodding, asking gentle questions that make you feel seen, not just a player in this wild game. his fingers trail absently up your arm, a comforting touch that grounds you amid the building heat.

“so, chris, what've you got in store for me tonight?”, you ask finally, your voice dropping to a playful murmur, your eyes flicking to his mouth, curiosity sparking low in your stomach. 

you don’t kiss yet, the air hums with unspoken tension, your body already responding to his proximity, your nipples tightening under his gaze. chan shifts, lying fully back with his head on the pillow, his hands behind his head, biceps flexing, drawing your eyes there like you’re hypnotised. he meets your stare, his expression turning mischievous yet tender. 

“the wheel said you have to sit on my face and i will eat you out until you can't think straight”

the words hit like a spark to dry tinder, surprise widening your eyes as heat floods your cheeks and lower, your cunt clenching at the image he pictured. you've never done that, the vulnerability of doing it twists nerves with excitement, a flutter of hesitation making you bite your lip. 

“wait, really? i... i've never… what if i crush you or something?” 

your voice wavers, half-laughing to mask the sudden shyness, but your arousal betrays you, your thighs pressing together against the fresh gush of wetness. he sits up slightly, reaching for your hand, squeezing it reassuringly, his touch firm but gentle. 

“hey, no way. you're perfect, i'll guide you, make it feel amazing. trust me, i've got you. and if you’re not comfortable with it, we stop, okay? but i promise you, you'll love it. just, let me take care of you like this” 

his eyes hold yours, sincere and encouraging, that leader's confidence easing the knot in your chest. you search his face, the care there melting your doubts, and if you have to be honest with yourself… yeah, the thought of his mouth on you, under you, devoted entirely to your pleasure, turns you on fiercely, your pulse racing as you finally nod.

“alright, yeah. show me”, you whisper, your voice thick with want, and he grins, lying back again, patting his chest invitingly. 

with his hands on your hips, he helps you straddle his torso first, then guides you upward, your knees framing his head as you hover above his face, your nerves making you doubt at first. the position feels exposed, intimate - your swollen folds inches from his lips, glistening with the evidence of previous rounds, your clit throbbing visibly. 

you're shy at first, lowering yourself slowly, barely settling your weight, but chan's hands grip your thighs, pulling you down firmly onto his waiting mouth. his tongue flicks out immediately, flat and broad, lapping a long stripe through your slick folds, and you gasp, your hands flying to the headboard for balance. 

“fuck, chris-” 

he dives in, devouring you with hungry, open-mouthed kisses, sucking your folds before delving deeper, his tongue circling your entrance to lap up the creamy mix of cum and arousal leaking from you. 

“so sweet, y/n… you taste so good, all soaked for me. ride my face, yeah? use me”, his words vibrate through your core, sending jolts of pleasure up your spine, and you start to move, tentative rocks of your hips, grinding your cunt against his eager mouth.

he groans into you, the sound raw and approving, his nose nudging your clit as his tongue thrusts inside, fucking you shallowly while his lips seal around to suckle. you lose it then, shyness disappearing in the blaze of sensation, your fluids pouring from your cunt to drench his chin, his cheeks, soaking into his skin as you ride harder, chasing the friction. 

“god, yes- just like that, you're doing so well”, he murmurs between licks, his voice broken, one hand sliding up to knead your ass, encouraging deeper presses. his tongue swirls relentlessly, alternating between broad strokes that cover every inch and pointed flicks to your clit that make you go wild.

you scream when his nose bumps your clit fully, the pressure perfect, rubbing against it with every grind as his mouth works your entrance, his tongue thrusting deep to curl against your walls. your thighs shake, your body arching as the coil tightens, your hips bucking wildly now, smearing your essence all over his face but he doesn't flinch, just hums in approval, swallowing what he can, the wet sounds loud and intoxicating. 

“come on, give it to me, flood my mouth, baby”, he urges, sucking your clit between his lips, teeth grazing just enough to tip you over.

the orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, crashing through you in shuddering waves that make you squirt - a gush of clear fluid mixing with your release, drenching him further, your cunt pulsing around his tongue as ecstasy rips cries from your throat. you tremble, your vision blurring, every nerve alight as you grind through it, prolonging the bliss until you're boneless.

panting, you lift yourself just enough to slide down a bit, settling your soaked cunt on his chest, your knees still bracketing his sides as you peer at his face. it's a wreck - his lips swollen and shiny, his chin dripping, eyes dark with lust and adoration as he licks his lips, savoring you. 

“fuck, look at you. you were incredible, so responsive. you came so hard for me, my good girl” 

the praise ignites something feral in you, a wild hunger that has you lunging forward, crashing your mouth to his in a devouring kiss.

you taste yourself everywhere - salty and musky on his tongue as it tangles with yours, lips bruising in the frenzy, your hands fisting his hair to angle him deeper. he kisses back with equal fire, moaning into your mouth, but you shift lower, your cunt dragging along the fabric of his boxers, feeling his cock twitch and harden beneath you. precum beads through the material, hot and sticky against your folds as you hump shamelessly.

the friction teases your oversensitive clit, drawing whimpers from both of you. he's rock-hard now, straining, the outline of his length pulsing with need. chan's hands grip your hips, stopping you with a groan, breaking the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. 

“wait- we can't. believe me, as much as i want to bury myself in you right now, the wheel...”, his voice is strained, laughter bubbling under the regret, his eyes flicking to your mouth, swollen from his.

the reminder snaps you back - the game, the rules, the wheel spinning fates.

“yeah, you're right”, you nod, breathless, easing off him with a pout that turns into a grin, “but... maybe we could finish this another day? without the wheel i mean” 

your words are teasing, laced with promise, and he laughs, the sound relaxed, pulling you in for one more quick kiss, chaste but lingering.

“fuck”, he mumbles against your lips, pulling back with visible effort, his hands scrubbing over his face - still slick with you - as he sits up, “you have no idea how hard it is to stop myself from flipping you over and fucking you senseless right here. but yeah, another day. count on it” 

you laugh at his flustered admission, the tension easing into shared amusement, watching as he swings his legs off the bed, adjusting his boxers over the prominent bulge.

he stands, shooting you a wink over his shoulder, but in his haste - or distraction - he forgets the sheet, leaving you sprawled naked and exposed, your body humming with unsatisfied want as the door clicks shut behind him. the cool air kisses your skin, but the fire he stoked lingers, leaving you aching, your heart still pounding, ready for whatever the wheel spins next.

you take the moment to glance down at yourself, really look. 

red marks bloom across your hips like fingerprints from gripping hands, bruises from changbin's strong hold, seungmin's tender but firm grasp. your thighs bear the evidence too, faint welts from teeth and suction, the inner skin slick and shiny with layers of cum and arousal that haven't fully dried. 

the sheets beneath you are a battle ground - dark wet spots spreading wide, stained with every release from the night. your fingers itch, trailing tentatively along your thigh, dipping into the sticky mess, smearing it upward in lazy circles. 

it's filthy, intimate, and god, it shouldn't turn you on more, but it does - your core clenches emptily, a fresh trickle of wetness escaping, pooling against the fabric. the temptation builds, your hand inching higher, brushing the edge of your folds, hovering near your swollen clit, your entrance begging for touch after all that teasing denial from chan at the end. just as your fingertip grazes the sensitive nub, sending a spark through you, the door creaks open again.

han slips in, his eyes widening with playful surprise as he catches you mid-act, a glass clutched in one hand. his boxers cling to his lean frame, his hair tousled like he's been running his fingers through it, that mischievous grin spreading across his face. 

“whoa, caught red-handed, or should i say, wet-handed? all those orgasms and the boys absolutely wrecking you weren't enough? greedy much?”, his voice is light, teasing, but laced with heat as he shuts the door, his gaze raking over your exposed form, lingering on the hand frozen near your cunt.

you snatch your fingers away, laughing breathlessly, your cheeks burning but refusing to hide - the game's stripped away that shyness long ago.

“hey, blame that damn wheel and the boys for leaving me like this. what? you think i can just switch off after chris had me grinding on his face? it’s your turn to finish what they started”

the banter flows easy, pulling him closer as he chuckles, setting the glass on the nightstand with a deliberate clink. he climbs onto the bed, the mattress dipping as he settles beside you, propped on one elbow, close enough that his warmth radiates against your side. 

“i’m the last one standing, or lying, i guess. the bar's sky-high after everyone else, but don't worry, i won’t make you wait any longer. i’m gonna blow your mind, literally” 

his eyes sparkle with that signature han charm, cocky yet endearing, and before you can say anything, he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that's all fire and and hunger - soft at first, then deepening, his tongue slipping past to taste you, drawing a moan from your throat.

he guides you back gently, his body hovering as his mouth breaks away only to trail elsewhere. his lips brush your earlobe, nipping lightly, breath hot as he whispers, “you have no idea how hard it’s been waiting out there, hearing you with everyone while waiting for my turn with you” 

he then moves down to your jaw, sucking a fresh mark there, his tongue soothing the sting before moving to your neck, giving you open-mouthed kisses that make your pulse jump under his touch. you arch into him, your hands finding his shoulders, nails digging in as he gives attention everywhere he can reach - collarbone, the curve of your shoulder - mapping your skin like territory to claim.

his descent slows at your breasts, his mouth closing over one nipple, tongue flicking the hardened peak before sucking hard, his teeth grazing just enough to pull a gasp from you. the other gets the same treatment, his hand kneading the soft flesh, rolling the nipple between his fingers until it's aching and sensitive. 

all the while, his other hand wanders lower, his fingers ghosting over your stomach, then dipping between your thighs. they find your clit first - swollen and throbbing - circling it with feather-light pressure that makes your hips buck. 

“mmhm, you’re so ready for me”, he murmurs against your skin, his voice against you, before two fingers slide through your folds, pushing into your entrance with ease, the slick heat welcoming him deep.

you clench around his fingers, overstimulated from the onslaught of the night, but it feels too good to stop - his fingers curl inside, stroking that spot that has you whimpering, his thumb pressing your clit at the same time. he pumps slowly at first, building the rhythm, moving his fingers inside you to stretch you, the wet sounds filling the room. 

then his head dips lower, until he replaces his thumb with his mouth - his tongue licking your clit in quick, precise flicks while his fingers thrust deeper. you cry out, your thighs trembling as overstimulation wars with pleasure, your hips rising instinctively to ride his face, grinding against his eager tongue. 

he hums in approval, the vibration shooting straight to your core, lapping at your entrance around his fingers, his mouth tasting the mix of cum still leaking from you. he pulls back just enough to speak, his lips glistening, eyes dark with lust. 

“this is only the beginning, you know. i bet you're aching, sore from all we've put you through… you need something to cool that fire a bit” 

with a wicked grin, he withdraws his fingers, leaving you clenching around nothing, and moves to reach for the nightstand. the ice cube he pulls from the glass gleams in the low light, water dripping from it, and your thighs clench involuntarily, slamming shut as a fresh wave of arousal floods you - your cunt leaking visibly onto the already soaked sheets, the cold object making your clit twitch in anticipation.

“open up for me, baby. trust me, it'll feel insane”, he coaxes, prying your legs apart with gentle hands, settling between them again. 

he starts slow, recapturing your lips in a heated kiss, the cube held away for now. then he starts going down once more - to your neck, a quick suck before pressing the ice there, the chill contrasting his warm mouth, making you shiver and gasp. 

he trails it lower, over your collarbone, circling one nipple with the melting cube while his lips close over the other, sucking hotly. the dual sensation - icy drip on one side, wet heat on the other - has you writhing, your back arching off the bed, pleas spilling from your lips. 

“jisung, please, i- more, i need more”

he obliges, his mouth following the path to your stomach, his tongue dipping into your navel before the ice glides over your hip bone, melting rivulets tracing towards your core. your folds part under his gaze, puffy and dripping, and he teases your first - his lips brushing your inner thighs, nipping the marked skin, while the cube hovers near but not touching.

then his mouth descends to your clit, sucking it gently, his tongue swirling around it, before he presses the ice directly against it. the shock hits like lightning - cold piercing the heat, your body seizing as you moan loudly, a scream tearing from your throat at the intensity. 

“fuck, jisung- yes, oh god!” 

it burns in the best way, numbing the oversensitivity just enough to heighten everything else, your clit pulsing under the rub.

“that's it, you’re so good for me, taking the ice like a champ, look at you leaking everywhere”, he praises you, his voice rough with arousal, eyes locked on yours as he circles the cube over your clit, then drags it down your folds, coating it in your warmth.

the melt mixes with your fluids, dripping cool inside your entrance as he pushes the edge there, shallowly. your hips jerk, chasing the sensation, your begging turning to desperate whines. he doesn't make you wait long - his fingers return, three now, stretching you wide as they thrust in, curling against your walls while the ice rubs relentlessly over your clit, tracing every fold, the chill seeping into your most sensitive spots.

the build is merciless, everything from the night crashing together, amplified by this icy torment. your walls flutter wildly around his fingers, gushing more slick, bordering on that edge again, pressure coiling so tight you feel like you'll shatter. 

“come for me, baby. let it all out, soak me”, he says, his voice low and urgent, his thumb replacing the cube to press your clit firmly while his fingers fuck you harder, the ice now melting fully against your thigh.

you break then, your orgasm ripping through you, your body convulsing as you squirt - a hot gush flooding his hand, the sheets, an endless pulsing that leaves you screaming his name. he works you through it, his fingers slowing but not stopping, rubbing your spot until every shake fades, then withdrawing to seal his mouth over your cunt. 

his tongue laps everything - your release, the watery remnants of ice - cleaning you thoroughly, probing deep to soothe the ache. you're overstimulated beyond words, every flick sending aftershocks that make you twitch and whimper, but you can't help it, your hips still move towards his mouth faintly, chasing the gentle suction, the flat of his tongue soothing your folds.

finally, he crawls up, his face shiny with you, and you pull him down greedily, crashing your lips to his. the kiss is messy, passionate, bodies pressing flush, your breasts against his chest, legs tangling as you taste your cum on his tongue. he groans into it, his hands roaming your back, holding you close in the afterglow.

you break apart panting, your foreheads pressed against the other’s, and he smiles softly, his thumb brushing your cheek. 

“you okay? that was intense”, his eyes look at you softer now, wrapping around you like a blanket, making you feel safe, cherished amid the chaos.

“yeah, i just... need a minute to come down. everything feels too much”, you murmur, nuzzling his neck, the security of his presence grounding you.

han chuckles softly, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back, “i get it. i’m proud of you for letting go like that. with all of us i mean”

“thank you”, you breathe, a small smile tugging at your lips, “for being so gentle after everything”

he moves his head just enough to look at you, his expression softening even more, “always. you deserve that and more”

he leans in again, pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss, carrying the weight of your moment together. of everything you’ve been through since the game started. when you pull apart, he presses his forehead against yours again.

“take all the time you need, it's over now. the game's done, we will be waiting in the living room whenever you're ready. no rush”, he reassures, pressing a final, tender kiss to your lips, lingering before pulling away. with one last squeeze of your hand, he slips off the bed, grabbing the empty glass, and heads for the door.

you lie there in the tangled sheets for what feels like an eternity, your body still humming from han's final touch, the cool remnants of the ice long melted but the chill lingering in your memory like a ghost of pleasure. 

your chest rises and falls in slow breaths, trying to steady the rapid flutter of your heart as the haze of overstimulation clears bit by bit. flashes of the night replay in your mind - the teasing, the dominance, the stretching. it was intense, overwhelming, each orgasm layering on the last until your body felt like a live wire, but god, you enjoyed every second.

minutes stretch, and you finally stir, sitting up with a wince at the delicious soreness between your legs. your cunt throbs faintly, slick still coating your inner thighs, a reminder of how thoroughly they'd used you. glancing down, you see the marks again - bites on your skin, fingerprints on your hips, faint red trails from the silk ties. it's a map of the night, and tracing one mark with your fingertip sends a fresh spark of arousal through you, your clit twitching despite the exhaustion. 

you slide off the bed, your legs shaky as you pad to the dresser. you pick some new lacy panties - black, sheer enough to tease if they look close - and slip them on, the fabric clinging to your still damp folds, already darkening at the crotch from the persistent wetness. a loose t-shirt follows, hanging just to mid-thigh, your nipples hardening against the thin cotton. no bra, because why bother now? the boys have seen - and tasted - everything.

you open the door and step into the hallway, the living room light spilling warm and inviting. voices murmur ahead, low and excited, and as you round the corner, eight pairs of eyes snap to you, all of them lounging in various states of casual disarray.

“there she is, our champion”, chan says first, his voice warm as he pats the spot beside him on the couch, “you okay? you look like you need a hug or something stronger”

you sink into the couch, tucking your legs under you, the t-shirt riding up just enough to flash lace if you move wrong, and you catch more than one gaze lingering there, heat building again in your core. 

“i'm good, really. just... processing. that was a lot” 

the words come out soft, but honest, and they nod, faces shifting to genuine care.

felix scoots closer, his eyes wide and sweet, “we weren't too much, right? you looked amazing, but we want you feeling safe after”

“yeah, spill, any regrets? or you’re still wordless after we gave you mindblowing orgasms?”, minho teases lightly.

you shake your head, leaning into chan's side as his arm drapes over your shoulders, the solid warmth of him grounding you. 

“no regrets. it was intense, but i loved it, every minute. you all made me feel so... wanted. cared for. like it was more than just the game”

murmurs of agreement ripple through the room, han winking as he adds, “told you we'd take care of you”

the talk flows easy then, brief but real. you recount the highlights without specifics, keeping it light, but the undercurrent simmers: the way their bodies felt against yours, cocks hard and leaking, mouths devouring, the slick sounds of your releases. your panties grow damper just from remembering everything, your thighs pressing together subtly. 

changbin notices, smirking as he flexes his arms, “sounds like we did our jobs right”

finally, after the reassurances fade, seungmin leans forward. 

“so... the big question. who won? who gave you the biggest orgasm? we need a verdict, judge”

you bite your lip, drawing out the moment, your eyes scanning their eager faces, cocks probably twitching under clothes at the thought. 

“honestly? i don’t really know. there were so many different factors, you all made me come in totally different ways”, your voice drops while you think about the details, and the room heats up - breaths quickening, han shifting to adjust his growing bulge, minho's eyes darkening as he licks his lips.

they lean in, debating playfully. 

“see? oral versus penetration, not fair comparison”, hyunjin argues, dramatic as ever, gesturing with those artist hands that had traced your skin so teasingly before.

“yeah, and i was one of the first ones, she was fresh, not built up like later,” jeongin chimes in, rubbing his neck but grinning.

chan laughs, his arm tightening around you, “god, she was so overstimulated when it was my turn that i felt her clench so hard on my tongue…”

you laugh, the sound light but laced with lingering lust, your hand absently trailing chan's thigh, feeling the muscle tense, “exactly. i was really overstimulated by the end, everything felt bigger, hotter. i can’t judge you all properly”

the discussion bubbles, voices overlapping in good-natured jabs - felix claiming he ended the rougher ones, changbin boasting about his turn, seungmin countering with emotional depth. then you drop the next line, playful but pointed, eyes sparkling as you glance around. 

“and honestly? it wasn't fair that some of you got to come and others didn't. like, some of you were denied, your boxers tented and leaking pre-cum the whole time. how am i supposed to rate you when you were edged without release?”

a chorus of agreements erupts, joking but heated. 

“yeah! i was throbbing just from watching you, i was dying to bury myself inside you”, hyunjin, groans, his hand palming himself subtly through his boxers, the outline of his cock visible.

“yeah, my dick ached just from being there, it was unfair as hell”, han adds, his eyes on your thighs where the t-shirt has ridden up, exposing lace clinging to your cunt lips.

minho smirks, leaning in, “told you the wheel was rigged. imagine if we'd all fucked you proper”

seungmin adjusts his boxers, his voice teasing, “some of us made love instead but point taken. no fair fight”

you let the tension build, your heart racing as their gazes turn hungry, bodies shifting closer. the air thickens with unspoken want, your nipples hardening under the shirt even more, your cunt clenching at the thought of them all again, cocks sliding in one by one, mouths and hands everywhere. 

“so, to have a real verdict, a proper answer... i think i'd have to test you all again. same game, but fair this time. everyone gets to come, no holding back. see who really gives the biggest orgasm when we're all unleashed, no wheels”, you say teasingly, your voice dropping lower to gain the effect you want. 

the room explodes in eager chaos, some of the boys jumping up, crowding around the couch, voices overlapping in excited shouts. 

“hell yes, sign me up, i'll have you breaking down much harder this time”, hyunjin declares, his eyes gleaming as he imagines yourself leaking for him again.

“round two? i'm in!”, felix says, bold now, his teeth biting his lip.

chan pulls you closer, breath hot on your ear, “you really want to finish what we started earlier… i’m down”

you burst out laughing at their eagerness, the way they pile on, hands reaching to touch - a pat here, a squeeze there - the living room turning electric with want and need. it's infectious, your own desire reigniting, your panties soaked through as you imagine the second round: bodies entangled, cocks thrusting without restraint, orgasms crashing without the wheel's limits. 

“easy, boys. you’re already so desperate to wreck me again?”, you ask between laughs.

“it’s your own fault, love, we can’t get enough of you now”, changbin adds while he winks at you.

“well i really can’t blame you… you all want me just like i want you all over me, one by one... or maybe all at once”

they cheer, pulling you into a group hug that turns into playful wrestle, limbs everywhere, the hint of more hanging thick, a second round begging to unfold, your body already aching for the final verdict.

you can read the sequel “the christmas round” here

the library

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[ghostintheclub]

Not a Cat Toy | Han Jisung

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Summary: Han finds your rose toy in your shared closet and thinks it’s a cat toy until Minho explains

Warnings: Sex toy discussion

Word Count: 1k

━━━━━━━━━━━━

You’re out with a friend, sipping overpriced iced coffee and complaining about your favorite lip tint being discontinued, completely unaware that back in the dorm, your boyfriend is five seconds away from a full existential breakdown.

Han is looking for his hoodie. Not just any hoodie, his hoodie. The gray one you always steal because it smells like him and feels like a hug. He’s muttering as he rummages through your shared closet like he’s on a timed game show.

“Where the hell is it,” he grumbles, yanking hangers aside. “She said she didn’t take it this time. She said.”

He squats to dig through the bottom shelf, tossing aside a tote bag and one of your little zippered pouches before his hand lands on something firm. Not fabric. Definitely not cotton.

He pulls it out.

It’s… a rose.

A soft, silicone, pastel-pink rose that fits perfectly in his palm.

Han squints at it.

“What the… is this… a decoration?”

He shakes it lightly. Nothing happens.

Tilts it.

Then he sees the button.

He presses it.

And nearly throws it.

“OH SHIT!”

It vibrates to life with an aggressive hum, a soft pulsing at the top that makes his eyes go round.

“WHAT IS HAPPENING.”

He slaps his hand over it like he can make it stop with brute force. Instead, it changes settings. Now it’s vibrating harder, rhythmically, like it’s mocking him.

He fumbles, hits the button again, now it’s sucking.

Han screams.

“WHAT IS THIS? IS THIS..WHY IS IT DOING THAT??”

Panicked, he holds it at arm’s length. The rose continues its merry little performance, loud in the echo of the shared room. He stares at it like it might detonate.

“What kind of demonic cat toy is this?!”

That’s exactly when Minho walks in.

He stops mid-step, zeroing in on the vibrating rose in Han’s hand like a sniper locking onto a target.

There is a long pause.

Han slowly turns to face him, eyes wide.

“Hyung,” Han says urgently. “Do the cats have a spa? Like..some kind of therapeutic stress ball I don’t know about? Because I found this in the closet and it’s ALIVE.”

Minho’s face stays neutral. Too neutral.

Han holds the rose up like an offering to the gods.

“I think it’s a cat toy, right?”

Minho doesn’t even blink.

“No.”

Han hesitates. “…No?”

Minho walks forward, plucks the rose from Han’s twitching fingers, turns it off with one press of the button, and places it calmly on the desk.

“That’s not a cat toy.”

Han exhales in relief. “Okay. Cool. So what is it?”

Minho looks at him for a long, long second.

“That’s a toy,” he says slowly, “but not for cats.”

Han blinks. Then again.

“…So for dogs?”

Minho’s lips twitch.

“No, hyung. It’s for your girlfriend.”

Han stares at him. Then back at the rose. Then back at him.

Minho waits.

Han’s mouth drops open.

“Wait..”

Minho nods.

Han puts a hand to his chest like he’s been personally wounded.

“Wait wait wait wait..that’s a sex toy?”

“Yes.”

Han’s face scrunches up in this horrible, stunned, offended expression.

He points dramatically. “But it’s a flower.”

Minho shrugs. “Yeah. It’s a flower that vibrates and sucks.”

Han’s knees go weak.

“IT WHAT??”

Minho sits on the edge of the desk like this is the most normal conversation in the world.

Han flails.

“Wh.. why does it suck?! Who told it to suck?! That’s my job!”

Minho raises one eyebrow.

Han starts pacing like he’s been told his girlfriend’s seeing someone else. Which, in a way, he feels like she is.

“She uses that?” he blurts.

Minho hums. “I mean. Probably. It was in your closet.”

Han clutches his chest. “Our closet. OUR CLOSET.”

Minho sighs. “Do you want me to explain what it does or are you gonna scream again?”

Han stops, mid-step, eyes huge.

“…There’s more?”

Minho leans back slightly. “It’s a clit stimulator, Hannie. You press it against the..”

Han flails again.

“I KNOW WHAT A CLIT IS..”

Minho tilts his head, unconvinced.

Han groans, covers his face. “Okay maybe not exactly, but I try really hard!”

There’s a beat of silence.

Han peeks through his fingers. “So it just..what, it like…sucks on it?”

Minho nods. “Yep. Suction. Pulsation. Vibration. Different modes.”

Han sinks to the bed.

Minho adds, unhelpfully, “It’s actually really popular.”

Han’s mouth falls open. “So like. People like that?”

Minho shrugs. “Better than a lot of guys, apparently.”

Han makes a noise like a dying animal.

“DON’T SAY THAT. NOT WHEN IT’S SITTING RIGHT THERE.”

He points at the rose, which looks disturbingly smug now.

Minho doesn’t even try to hide his smirk anymore. “Jealous of a flower?”

Han huffs. “I just..I just..I thought we were good, y’know? I thought she was happy!”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m not dramatic, I’m vulnerable.”

Minho stands and pats his shoulder.

“Maybe you should ask her to show you how she uses it.”

Han covers his ears. “Nope. No. I’m not ready for that kind of education.”

Minho chuckles. “Grow up, hyung.”

Han scowls. Then looks up with the saddest expression Minho’s ever seen.

“…Wait,” he whispers, “does she like that better than me?”

Minho blinks. “Oh my god.”

Han flops back onto the bed dramatically, arms spread like he’s been shot.

“Am I losing to a silicone flower?!”

Minho snorts. “I mean, she lives with you, not the flower, so probably not.”

“But what if she’s just settling for me? Like what if she thinks about that thing during sex? What if she fakes it?! What if the flower gives her a better time than I do?”

Minho picks up the rose and tosses it lightly at his chest.

Han catches it and glares at it like it’s competition.

“Fine,” he mutters, cradling it in his palm. “You win this round, flower.”

Minho’s already walking out of the room, shaking his head.

“Don’t text her something weird.”

“I won’t,” Han lies.

babe.

serious question.

do you love me or your flower more.

be honest I can handle it.

actually wait don’t be honest. no wait yes be honest. just tell me I’m still the clit king ok

You don’t see the messages until you’re halfway home.

And you laugh so hard in the back of the Uber, the driver asks if you’re okay.

[skzophreniic]

⍣ ೋ cw: explicit sexual content, neighbors to lovers, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), reader first orgasm, soft dom Han Jisung, emotional vulnerability, praise kink, mention of toxic relationship, slight exhibitionism (thin walls), slight degradation of ex-boyfriend, aftercare, fluff, soft angst (parental neglect), mdni

notes: in which han jisung hears you faking your orgasms through the walls of your apartment--and things spiral from there.

The walls in this building are a joke.

Half an inch of drywall. That’s all that separates his shitty one-bedroom from yours. He’s counted.

It’s not like he meant to know so much about you. He’s not trying to eavesdrop on every late-night argument, every hungover FaceTime call, every time you drag your heavy Econ textbook across the floor.

He just lives here.

And unfortunately, so do you.

Jisung never asked for the proximity. He never asked to know the way your voice rises when you're tipsy or how you only sing when you thinks no one can hear. But he does. He knows. He knows you eat too many frozen waffles and tha tyour microwave beeps twice before you remember to take shit out. He knows the name of your boyfriend, the sound of your laugh when you’re trying too hard, and worse—

The exact pitch of your moans when you’re faking it.

Because you fake it. Every damn time.

And he would know. He’s had the misfortune of being hard at 2AM with your paper-thin walls pressed against his back and that sorry excuse for sex filtering through his second-hand studio monitors like a mockery of porn.

It’s always the same: breathy gasps, your boyfriend’s awkward grunting, the bed springs squeaking like hell, and then—

“Oh my god, yeah, just like that...”

Flat. Perfunctory. The kind of moan that sounds practiced. Rehearsed. Completely unconvincing.

Jisung rolls his eyes and turns the volume up on his mix.

Not because it bothers him. Not because he cares.

It’s just distracting.

He’s got better things to do than think about the pretty girl next door faking orgasms like it’s a part-time job.

Like finish this track. Like land an actual gig. Like figure out how the fuck he’s going to keep affording rent in a city that eats people alive and doesn’t even burp after.

He’s not interested.

He’s not.

Except—

Sometimes he wonders what it would sound like if you meant it.

What you’d sound like if someone took their time. If someone made you come for real, dragged it out of your with fingers in your hair and lips on your neck and the kind of steady, brutal rhythm that doesn’t stop until you’re shaking.

What you’d sound like if it were him.

Jisung curses under his breath and drags his headphones off.

His eyes are dry. His dick’s half-hard. His track’s going nowhere.

Cool.

Maybe he just needs to… do something. Anything. Something mundane. Something that reminds him he’s a functioning adult with a trash bin and a spine and better things to focus on than the soft moans of the girl next door and the way they don’t sound quite right.

He grabs the overstuffed trash bag by the door, ties it with too much force, and makes a beeline for the hallway before he can talk himself out of it.

The fluorescent lights hum. The elevator’s broken again. Everything smells vaguely like burnt toast and someone’s fruity shampoo.

This building is hell.

He loves it.

Jisung drops the bag down the chute, lingers a second too long just to feel the rush of cold air against his face, then heads back.

He’s barely two doors away from home when he sees you.

You’re standing outside your apartment, arms crossed over your chest, loose sweatshirt slipping off one shoulder like it’s been a long night. Your boyfriend—Jason? Jared? Justin?—is leaning in too close, his mouth moving fast. Jisung can’t make out the words, but the tone’s familiar. Sharp. Defensive.

The boyfriend tries to kiss you.

You turn your face away.

Jisung doesn’t mean to stop walking. His feet just… do.

“I said I’m tired,” you mutter.

“Oh, you’re tired?” the guy snaps, way too loud for this dingy little hallway. “You weren’t tired twenty minutes ago when you were riding my dick, were you?”

Jesus.

Jisung should keep walking. Should disappear into his apartment and mind his business like he always does.

But instead, he just—

“Hey.”

His voice comes out cracked around the edges, like it hasn’t been used in a while. Which is accurate. He hasn’t really spoken to anyone in three days. Not unless you count the talking he does into the mic when he’s laying down verses at 3AM.

You both turn to look at him.

Jisung tries to smile.

It’s more of a grimace.

“You, uh…” he clears his throat, glancing at you instead of the walking ego next to you. “You okay?”

You hesitate.

The boyfriend doesn’t.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Jisung shoves his hands deeper into his hoodie pocket. “Neighbor.”

The guy blinks, then laughs. “Oh. So you’re the one blasting that emo SoundCloud shit through the wall every night?”

Jisung winces. A breath stutters out of him like he’s been lightly slapped.

Then he notices it—you wince, too. The tiniest flicker of guilt flashing across your face, so fast he almost misses it.

And yeah. Okay.

That stings more than it should.

“I didn’t say it was shit,”you mumble under your breath, clearly meant only for your own conscience.

“Don’t worry,” Jisung says quickly, forcing a light tone as he scratches the back of his neck. “It’s fine. Totally fair. Some of my stuff is… uh. Kinda dogshit.”

The boyfriend grins like he’s just won something.

“Glad we agree. Thought I was gonna have to explain how sound works to a wannabe DJ.”

Jisung opens his mouth—then closes it again.

Not worth it.

Definitely not worth it.

Except you’re still looking at him. Still standing there with your arms folded tight, sweatshirt slipping down further. And your face—

There’s something in it. Not pity. Not sympathy.

More like… regret.

He hates that it softens him.

The boyfriend, oblivious, barrels on. “Anyway, next time you feel like giving a concert at four in the morning, maybe wait until someone asks.”

“Next time you feel like giving headboard percussion lessons at two,” Jisung mutters, “maybe make sure she actually comes.”

The words leave his mouth before his brain catches up.

Instant silence.

You gasp. Cover it with your hand, like you’re trying not to laugh—or scream.

The boyfriend just stares at him.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

Jisung shrugs, already stepping toward his apartment door. His hands are shaking a little, but he keeps his voice light.

“I mean, the moaning’s impressive. Real Oscar-worthy shit. But you’d think a guy who talks that much would at least know when he’s not doing it right.”

“You little—”

“Hey, man.” Jisung turns back for half a second, nodding at him with a crooked, tired smile. “If I can tell through the wall that she’s faking it, that’s not on her. That’s on you.”

He shuts the door behind him before the guy can even finish winding up his insult.

Click.

Deadbolt.

Silence.

Except for the thundering in his chest.

Jisung exhales hard, forehead thunking against the door. “What the fuck did I just do?”

He sinks down to the floor like his legs have given up. Which, to be fair, they kind of have.

This isn’t him. This isn’t what he does.

He doesn't talk back. Doesn’t mouth off. Doesn’t insert himself into other people’s messy lives—especially not yours. He barely speaks to delivery guys. Half his social life happens through a pop filter.

And yet.

“You’d think a guy who talks that much would at least know when he’s not doing it right.”

God. It was kind of funny.

But still—Jesus.

Jisung scrubs both hands over his face, embarrassment curling in his gut like a hangover.

Across the wall, he hears footsteps. Muffled shouting. The boyfriend’s voice, sharp with wounded ego. And then—

The unmistakable slam of a door.

Silence.

No more voices. No more fake moans. No more anything.

Jisung doesn’t move.

Eventually, when the silence stays long enough to feel safe, he hauls himself up off the floor. Brushes dust from his sweats. Tries not to replay what he said out loud like a greatest hits compilation of shit he absolutely should not have said out loud.

____________________________________________________________________________

He sleeps like shit.

Of course he does.

And when morning comes, it hits in a wave of cheap sunlight and neighborly noise.

He hears your usual routine unfold with near-perfect familiarity: fridge door opening, kettle clicking on, cabinet slam (twice—you always forget which one holds the instant coffee). Muffled cursing. Zipper. Then keys jingling against the lock.

He listens as you step out, lets the door fall shut behind you, and walks down the hall toward the stairs.

Everything is the same.

And none of it is.

Because this time, when you leave,your footsteps pause right outside his door.

Just for a second. A breath.

Then gone.

He groans and pulls the blanket over his face.

The rest of the day moves in its usual haze. Jisung does what he always does: noodles with a half-finished beat, eats instant ramen over the sink, ignores three texts from Chan asking for an update on the mix. His headphones stay around his neck most of the day, never quite getting used.

By sunset, the hallway is quiet again.

The beat he’s working on is shit. He knows it’s shit. He keeps tweaking it anyway.

It’s not even music anymore. Just sound. A bunch of clunky, disjointed loops that won’t glue together no matter how many times he messes with the tempo.

He’s just about to scrap the whole thing when—

Knock knock.

He freezes.

It’s soft. Measured. Hesitant.

He doesn't move right away—just sits there in his desk chair like someone just rang the doorbell in a horror movie. Then he leans back slightly, just far enough to peek over the edge of his laptop.

Another knock.

His heart does something stupid.

He stands. Pads barefoot to the door. Checks the peephole.

Of course it’s you.

You’re standing there in leggings and an oversized hoodie, arms cradling a plastic container like its armor. Your hair's pulled back, face bare. You look—

Small.

Unsure.

You lift one hand and knock again, even softer this time.

He hesitates a second longer, then opens the door.

Not all the way. Just a crack.

Your head jerks up. You blink. “Hi.”

He blinks back. “Uh. Hey.”

You shift your weight. “Can I—uh, are you busy?”

He opens the door a little wider, eyes flicking down to the container you’re holding. “No. I mean. Just… failing at music.”

That gets the faintest smile out of you.

“Right. Yeah. I, um…” You hold out the container. “These are for you.”

He stares. “Cookies?”

“Apology cookies.”

There’s a beat.

Then:

“I didn’t bake them,” You admit. “But I did walk two blocks to the overpriced organic place to get them. So. Effort was made.”

He blinks down at the container again, like it might disappear if he stares hard enough.

“Effort noted,” he mumbles.

You shift again, hugging your arms tighter. “You don’t have to eat them. I just—felt weird not saying thank you. Or sorry. You didn’t have to do what you did last night.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, well. Felt weird not saying something. So.”

You stand there in the doorway for a second, both of you clearly unsure of what to do now that the thing you came to say has been said. He should probably invite you in. Or take the cookies. Or smile, or make a joke, or something.

Instead, he clears his throat.

You jump in to fill the silence. “Also, just so we’re clear—I didn’t actually mean the SoundCloud thing. That was… low-hanging fruit.”

He raises an eyebrow. “So you’ve listened?”

That earns him a flush, bright and instant. “Not on purpose.”

“Wow.” He presses a hand to his chest. “What a glowing endorsement.”

“I’m just saying—I wasn’t trying to be a bitch. That wasn’t fair.” Your gaze softens. “Your stuff is good. Better than good, actually. The one with the—uh—strings and that lo-fi beat underneath?”

His eyebrows raise. “Track twelve?”

She nods.

His stomach flips. It’s ridiculous. But that track had been sitting unfinished for weeks, like something he wasn’t sure anyone but him would ever care about. And now she’s standing here—face bare, voice quiet—quoting it back to him like it meant something.

He doesn’t know what to say.

For someone who spends hours arranging syllables and syncopation for fun, it’s laughable how words immediately bail on him when they might actually matter.

“You, uh…” He shifts the container to one hand. “You’ve got a good ear.”

You smile. It’s small. A little sheepish. “I’ve got shit walls.”

That makes him laugh—quiet and surprised.

“I should let you hear more sometime,” he says, before he can talk himself out of it.

You tilt your head. “Yeah?”

“I mean—only if you want to. No pressure. I just thought…”

He trails off, scratching at the seam of his sleeve.

“I’d like that,” You say.

And he doesn’t know what to do with the warmth that blooms in his chest. It’s not huge. It’s not loud. But it’s there—steady and unexpected, curling under his ribs.

“Cool,” he says, voice softer now. “I’ll, uh. Let you know next time I make something new.”

You nod, then shift your weight backward—just enough to start retreating. But not before your eyes flick to his again, briefly, like you want to say something else.

He thinks might.

But all you do is smile—small and real—and take one step back towards your door.

“Goodnight, Han.”

His name on your lips feels like something it shouldn’t. Like a secret.

He nods. “Night.”

And then you turn. Cross the narrow hallway back to your apartment, keys already in hand. you hesitate at the door for half a second—he notices that, because of course he notices that—then slides the key in, disappears inside, and lets the door fall shut behind you with a soft click.

He watches the empty hallway for a beat longer.

He stares at his own door for a moment after he closes it, forehead pressed against the wood like the words you left behind are still floating in the air.

Goodnight, Han.

He hadn’t realized how nice his name could sound until you said it like that.

It echoes in his chest. Warms something that’s been cold for a while.

When he finally moves, it’s slow. He sets the cookies on the kitchen counter, grabs a pen, and flips open the nearest notebook—one he’s barely touched in weeks.

And he writes:

Track idea: starts quiet. Voice sample, maybe hers? Lo-fi beat behind it, soft keys. Let it build. Don’t let it rush. Let it breathe.

He underlines let it breathe three times.

Then he puts his headphones on.

And for the first time in a long time—

The music comes easy.

______________________________________________________________

You never planned on being friends with Han.

The boy next door with the quiet mouth and loud headphones. The recluse who only seemed to exist in studio beats and half-heard melodies through the wall. You knew his name before you knew his face—Han, printed on a mailbox slot too narrow.

Now he nods at you in the hallway. Smiles, even. You’ve learned that they’re rare, his smiles—crooked and shy, like they’re still trying to figure themselves out. You’ve started waiting for them.

Some mornings, you catch him in the elevator, hoodie pulled over messy hair, a takeout coffee in one hand and sleep in his eyes. You say hi. He says hey. He always holds the door for you.

It’s nothing. But it’s not nothing.

And then, one night—it’s something.

It starts with your friend’s voice, high and nervous. “I swear I had your keys. I swear they were just—fuck, okay, check your bag again—”

You’re too drunk to care. Or think. Or stand up straight

Your bag is wide open on the hallway floor, a war zone of receipts, gum wrappers, lip glosses with no caps, and an unopened pack of hot sauce packets you swear you didn’t steal from Taco Bell. Your friend is crouched beside it, frantically digging like she’s searching for buried treasure.

And that’s when the elevator dings.

You don’t even bother turning around. You’re too busy trying to balance one heel on top of a rogue pack of gum like it’s a tightrope.

Your friend, however, freezes. Then straightens sharply, whisper-hissing, “Oh shit—it’s your neighbor.”

You blink. “Which one?”

“The hot one.”

That gets your attention.

You turn—wobble—and there he is: Han. Grocery bag in one hand, hood halfway off, hair a little windblown. His eyes flick from your friend to you, then to the scene at your feet: your life in full chaotic display.

He pauses. Then says, with the softest little blink of disbelief,

“Uh… everything okay?”

You blink right back at him.

Then lean toward your friend—not subtly, not gracefully, and definitely not quietly—and whisper at full volume:

“You’re right, he is hot.”

It echoes.

Down the hall. Into the vents. Probably into the next dimension.

Your friend claps a hand over her mouth.

Han stares at you, frozen mid-step, grocery bag dangling like it no longer belongs to him.

You sway slightly. Flash him a winning, drunken grin. “Hi.”

His ears go pink.

He recovers with a cough and a quiet, “Hey.”

Your friend steps in, trying to salvage the moment. “She, um… lost her keys. And maybe her filter. And maybe also her last three brain cells.”

“I have at least five brain cells,” you argue, eyes still locked on Han like you’ve just spotted the last bottle of tequila on Earth. “Maybe six.”

“Okay,” your friend says sharply, grabbing your arm before you can say anything worse. “She’s drunk. She needs to sleep. You’re right next door. I trust you, I think. Will you—can you—?”

“I’ve got her,” Han says, voice gentle. Too gentle. Like he’s trying not to laugh but also trying not to die of second-hand embaressment.

He steps forward, freeing his hand long enough to steady you when you stumble again. His grip is warm, careful. You immediately lean into it like he’s a weighted blanket.

“Wow,” you murmur. “Strong and polite. A dangerous combo.”

He just smiles—shy and crooked, the way he always does when he doesn’t know where to put his face. “You good to walk?”

“No promises.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘maybe,’” he says, easing your arm over his shoulder.

Your friend sighs, already backing toward the stairs. “If she tries to seduce you, just tell her she cries at Disney movies and once got drunk and tried to fistfight a traffic cone.”

“I won, though,” you shout after her.

Han chuckles.

Your friend throws one last suspicious look over her shoulder, mouthing to Han, text me from her phone if she throws up, before disappearing down the stairwell.

And now it’s just you and Han.

And the heat of your skin pressed to his side.

And the wild, buzzing thought in your brain that you’ve never been this close to him before.

He shifts his weight. Glances down at you.

“You seriously okay?”

You nod. “I feel great.”

“You say that while using me as a crutch.”

“Yeah. But like—a sexy crutch.”

He laughs, head ducking slightly like he’s embarrassed for both of you.

But he doesn’t let go.

And he doesn’t stop smiling.

Han’s arm stays steady around you as he unlocks his door, grocery bag still dangling awkwardly from one wrist. He guides you inside carefully, flicking on the lights with his elbow and nudging the door shut behind you.

You blink, taking it in through a haze: tiny apartment, warm lighting, a bunch of wires and gear by the desk, no couch in sight.

He catches you swaying and steers you toward a plain padded chair by the wall. “Here, sit for a sec.”

You plop down like a ragdoll.

Han crouches in front of you instantly, gently tugging your heels off one at a time like he’s afraid you’ll tip over trying. “You good?” he murmurs, setting your shoes aside neatly. “Anything feel weird? Dizzy?”

You grin at him. “You’re so worried.”

He flushes instantly. “I just—yeah. I mean. You’re really drunk.”

“Yeah, but like, in a fun way.”

“Still,” he mutters, already handing you a bottle of water from the counter. “Drink this. Slowly.”

You take it. “You’re like a… a boyfriend. But like, a really responsible one. Like—tax-paying, call-my-mom-for-me energy.”

Han snorts and gets up, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, you’re done talking now.”

“I’m not!” you call after him as he sets the grocery bag down. “I’m very interesting!”

He just shakes his head, trying (and failing) to hide his smile.

When you blink again, he’s in front of you, holding out a hand. “C’mon. Bed’s this way.”

You pause. “You only have one bed.”

His ears go pink. “You can take it.”

You squint. “Where are you gonna sleep?”

He shrugs, awkward. “Floor. I’ve got blankets.”

“That’s tragic.”

“I’ve survived worse.”

You pout but don’t argue as he pulls you gently to your feet again. You’re warm, wobbly, still clutching the water bottle like a security blanket, and when he steers you toward the bed, you barely resist at all.

He helps you sit, then hands you a second pillow and adjusts the blanket like he’s not trying to combust over how soft you look there. He’s halfway to standing up again when you tug the edge of the blanket higher and murmur:

“Thanks, Han.”

He’s still standing near the edge of the bed, half in the dark, blinking at you like you’ve just short-circuited every single brain cell in his head.

His voice is a little uneven when he says, “Y-Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

You smile at him, all cozy and soft, limbs draped across his sheets like you belong there.

He doesn’t even know where to put his hands.

“I, uh—” He scratches at the back of his neck. “I still have a bit of work to do. Just mixing something. I’ll, um. Be over here.”

You blink up at him. “What kinda work?”

“Music stuff.” His voice cracks a little, and he clears his throat immediately. “I won’t bother you. You can—yeah, you can just pass out. All good.”

“You don’t mind me on your bed?”

Han stares at you for a second too long.

Then jerks his gaze away. “No. I—I mean. No, definitely not. Like, at all.”

He fumbles over to his desk, nearly knocking over a pair of headphones, and drops into the chair like his legs have forgotten how to bend properly.

You snuggle deeper into the mattress, dragging the blanket over your legs with a dramatic sigh. “This is comfy. You have good taste in sheets.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, clicking around on his laptop even though the track’s already loaded. 

You giggle.

He pretends not to notice.

You don’t see it—but his eyes flick to you constantly. Quick little glances when you shift, or sigh, or tuck your face into the pillow like it’s your new favorite thing. He can’t not look.

You yawn, cheek squished into his pillow. “You smell nice.”

He makes a sound that’s somewhere between a cough and a quiet plea for mercy. “You should, uh. Try to sleep.”

“Mhm.”

You don’t move.

Just keep lying there. All sweet and sleepy and tangled up in his blankets, on his bed, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

And even though he should be focusing—he really, really should—

Han can’t stop smiling.

He turns back to his screen and presses play, the familiar beat fills his headphones, looping low and steady.

It’s not done—not even close. The layers are uneven, the bass too soft, the melody still fighting to find its place. But it’s something. And tonight, it’s the only thing keeping his hands busy while his mind refuses to stop thinking about you in his bed.

You’re quiet for a while.

He thinks maybe you’ve finally fallen asleep. You haven’t said anything in minutes, and your breathing’s slow, almost even. He lets himself glance over his shoulder.

You’re still awake.

Eyes open. Watching him.

You shift slightly under the blanket, cheek still pressed into his pillow. Your voice is soft, drowsy. “Can I hear it?”

He blinks. “What?”

“The track you’re working on,” you murmur. “Can I listen?”

Han’s heart does a somersault. Or maybe a backflip. Hard to tell through the static in his chest.

He turns fully in his chair. “Now?”

You nod, slow and lazy. “You promised. You said I could listen next time you made something new.”

Right. He had said that.

But not this one.

Not track twelve.

He fidgets with the headphone wire. “It’s not that one.”

You blink at him, confused.

“The one with the lo-fi strings,” he explains, voice quieter now. “Track twelve. I still haven’t finished it.”

“Oh.”

You don’t sound disappointed. Just curious.

He rubs a hand over his face, then offers a crooked little smile. “But you can hear this one. If you want.”

You nod again, eyes fluttering half-shut like the night is finally catching up to you.

He hesitates.

Then gently unplugs the headphones from the jack, letting the soft sound of the track fill the room.

It’s quiet. Dreamy. Bare bones but beautiful—slow, pulsing synth layered under a simple piano loop. There’s a vocal sample buried under the mix, something wordless and airy, like a breath that never ends.

You close your eyes fully this time, listening.

And Han watches you—watches the way your body relaxes into the sound, how your lips part just slightly, like the music is pulling something from you even in sleep.

He turns back to the screen, fingers hovering over the trackpad.

You speak again, barely above a whisper.

“It’s sad,” you murmur.

He doesn’t answer.

“Not in a bad way,” you add quickly. “Just… it sounds like it’s missing something. Like it’s looking for something.”

Han swallows.

Yeah.

That’s exactly what it is.

He stares at the waveform on his screen and says, very softly, “I think it’s trying to say something I don’t know how to say yet.”

You don’t reply. Not right away.

When you do, your voice is already trailing off into sleep. “You don’t have to say it. It’s already in the music.”

And then you're still.

Breathing even. Eyes shut.

Han doesn’t move for a long time.

Just sits in the soft blue glow of his screen, heartbeat slowing down to match yours, wondering how the hell he’s supposed to finish a song when the thing it’s missing is falling asleep five feet away.

______________________________________________________________

It’s been months since that first night.

Since the couchless sleepover, since the drunken key fiasco, since you fell asleep to the sound of his unfinished song.

And in that time, Han has come out of his shell in the slowest, sweetest way possible.

At first, he was shy. Still the hoodie-wearing recluse with his eyes glued to Ableton and his words tucked somewhere behind clenched teeth.

But then he started showing up more. At your door with takeout. With headphones and half-finished demos. With quiet, tentative smiles that stretched wider the more you smiled back.

You got to know him.

He told you about Malaysia—about sticky summers and midnight noodles and the way his parents still call twice a week even though they’re oceans apart. He told you how he moved to Korea for college, studied for a year, and then dropped out when he realized his brain was wired for sound, not textbooks.

You told him about your life, too—your parents and their ever-shifting conditions for love, the apartment they still pay for, the degree you’re grinding out just to prove something. To who, you’re not even sure.

And Han—turns out he’s kind of a chatterbox. Once he’s comfortable, the boy talks. About anything. About everything. With his hands, with his whole face. About samples and synths and the absolute travesty that is powdered parmesan.

Now, it’s like this: casual, constant, inevitable.

You crash at his place sometimes—not because you're locked out, but just because. Sometimes you bring your laptop and do homework on his floor. Sometimes you nap in his bed while he works. You keep a toothbrush there now. A hoodie of his has quietly migrated to your closet.

You even invited him to your graduation this spring. “It’s not like my parents are coming,” you’d shrugged, and Han had just blinked at you, then said okay, like it wasn’t the biggest fucking deal.

He still blushes when you call him hot. Still won’t take the bed when you stay over. Still treats you like you might disappear if he lets himself want too much.

And today, you’re at your place—your couch this time, legs tangled together on either end, killing time the way only two people who are too comfortable with each other can.

Lazy game of truth or dare. No real stakes. Just soft laughter and shared snacks and the kind of questions that teeter between teasing and tender.

Han’s fingers are brushing against your ankle, casual and unthinking. The popcorn bowl is somewhere on the floor, long forgotten. You’re both half-reclined, cozy and loose, a tangle of limbs and friendship that’s been threatening to become something else for weeks now.

You’ve already dared him to do his worst celebrity impression, and he’d made you sing a jingle from one of your old childhood commercials. The kind of dumb, lazy game that only works when you trust someone enough not to twist the blade when things get close.

Now it’s his turn.

“Truth,” you say, yawning, stretching like a cat in the sun. “I’m feeling vulnerable.”

He gives you a look. One brow raised, fingers tapping thoughtfully against his thigh. “Okay. What was your best orgasm?”

You blink.

Then laugh.

He flushes instantly. “Shit—was that too far? I thought we were in the spicy round.”

“No, no,” you say, waving a hand, trying to keep your smile light. “It’s fair.”

But you don’t answer right away.

You sit there for a second, fiddling with the hem of your oversized sleep shirt. His question settles somewhere low in your stomach—not uncomfortable, just… exposed. Like a truth you’ve learned to laugh off before anyone can look too closely.

You glance at him, then say it—half-teasing, like a joke you’ve told a few times before.

“I wouldn’t know.”

Han blinks. “You wouldn’t—?”

You shrug. “Never had one. Not a good one. Not any, actually.”

There’s a pause. His brows lift, lips parting slightly, but you beat him to it with a raised hand and a crooked grin.

“I know, I know. Tragic. I’m either defective or cursed. It’s a toss-up.”

He doesn’t laugh.

You thought he might—just to lighten the mood. Maybe roll with the joke, keep it casual.

But Han’s expression softens instead. Slowly. Like he’s putting something together.

But Han’s expression softens instead. Slowly. Like he’s putting something together.

“That’s not funny,” he says, voice quiet. Barely a wrinkle of sound between you.

You blink. “It’s kind of funny.”

“No, it’s not.” He leans in a little, eyes searching yours. “And it’s definitely not true.”

You hold his gaze for a beat longer than you mean to. “Tell that to every guy I’ve slept with.”

He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t flinch. Just says, soft but certain, “They don’t count.”

Something in your chest pulls tight.

You sit back, let out a soft exhale through your nose. Try again, lighter this time. “I mean, at some point, you start to wonder if it’s just you, right? Like maybe I missed a biological memo.”

“You didn’t,” he says, firm now. “You just haven’t been with someone who cared enough to figure you out.”

You snort softly, eyes dropping to his lips before flicking back up. “What, and you do?”

His breath catches, just slightly. But he doesn’t flinch.

“Yeah,” he says. Simple. Sure. “I do.”

You go quiet.

It’s not the answer that surprises you—it’s how steady he is when he says it. Like it’s not even a question in his mind. Like he’s already imagined it, already decided what he’d do if you ever let him.

That steadiness makes your throat go tight.

“Okay,” you say, voice quiet. “Then what would you do?”

Han shifts slightly, eyes locked on yours, his expression unreadable. Focused.

“I’d start slow,” he says, and it doesn’t sound like a line—it sounds like a plan. “Let you get used to being touched in a way that’s not… performative.”

You blink.

He leans in, just a little. Not close enough to touch. Not yet.

“I’d watch your face,” he continues, softer now, “and actually pay attention. I’d figure out what makes you squirm. What makes your breath catch. What makes you ask for more.”

Your pulse thrums at your throat, hot and sharp.

“I’d talk to you,” he murmurs. “Tell you what I’m doing. Tell you how fucking good you look while I’m doing it. Make sure you know every second that it’s about you.”

Your pulse thrums at your throat, hot and sharp.

You don’t say anything. You can’t.

Because Han is looking at you like he already has you spread out in his mind. Like he’s memorizing every microreaction, storing them away like he might need them later. Like he’s already tasting the sound you’ll make when he finally breaks you open.

Your voice comes out low. Barely there.

“That’s a lot of attention for one orgasm.”

Han’s mouth twitches. Not a smile. Not quite yet.

“I’m not aiming for one.”

You feel it in your chest—in your spine—the way his voice sinks into you. Low. Purposeful. Like he’s already in your skin, like the words themselves are a touch.

You can’t breathe.

He’s so close now, and still—still—not touching you. He could. He should. Your body is already leaning into the heat of him, legs still curled beneath you, the hem of your sleep shirt brushing high on your thighs. But he doesn’t move.

“Have you… done this before?”

He blinks. “Made someone come?”

You nod, quick, almost shy.

“Yeah.” His mouth lifts at one corner. “Why?”

You hesitate, eyes flicking over his face. “I… thought you were a virgin.”

Han blinks. Then he laughs—a soft, breathy thing that curls low in his throat.

“Wow,” he murmurs, rubbing the back of his neck, his cheeks already going red. “That’s, uh… new.”

You’re not teasing anymore. Not really. Not with the way your eyes keep flicking over him—his mouth, his hands, the pink creeping up the slope of his neck. Not with how you’re sitting up straighter, how your thighs squeeze just slightly together without meaning to.

He notices.

And it flusters him, of course it does—he’s Han, after all. All nervous energy and soft-spoken charm. But there’s something else underneath it too. Something steady. Something you didn’t see before.

“You really think I’ve spent this much time listening to you fake it through the walls and didn’t fantasize about doing it better?”

Your breath catches. Hard.

His gaze doesn’t drop. Doesn’t falter.

And suddenly, you’re seeing him for what he is—really seeing him.

The slightly older boy next door. The dropout with big hands and bigger dreams. The quiet music producer who hides behind humor but notices everything. The same Han who always opened his door, always gave you the bed, always walked on the street side of the sidewalk—but now you realize he’s been wanting you the whole time.

And you missed it.

You look at him now—and you feel it.

The shift.

Because he’s still Han. Still hoodie-clad and sweet and overly cautious.

But he’s also a man.

And god, it’s hitting you all at once.

The way his eyes haven’t left your mouth. The way he says things like I’m not aiming for one with such quiet, devastating confidence. The way he can be so careful with you and still make your skin burn like he’s already touched you everywhere.

You swallow hard.

“So,” you murmur, voice dipping low, “you’ve done this before.”

His fingers twitch where they rest against his thigh. “Yeah.”

“How many girls?”

He blushes harder at that. Clears his throat. “I mean, not a lot.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“I’m not—” he fumbles, flustered now, voice high-pitched with embarrassment, “—like, I’m not some sex god, okay?”

You giggle. Can’t help it.

He glares, weakly. “Don’t look at me like that.”

You lean in. Let your voice soften. “Like what?”

He shifts under your gaze, eyes flicking down again before returning to yours. “Like you’re surprised.”

“I am,” you whisper.

And you are.

Surprised by the heat in your belly. Surprised by the tension in his jaw, the way he’s not looking away now. Surprised by the fact that the Han you thought you knew—the one who panicked over burnt rice and once apologized to a houseplant—is sitting in front of you, cheeks flushed, voice low, practically thrumming with restraint.

And the restraint is unraveling. You can see it. You can feel it.

His hand is still resting on his thigh. Tense. Useless.

You want it on you.

He must know, must feel the shift in the air, because he breathes out through his nose—shaky, controlled—and finally moves.

Not to kiss you.

Not yet.

Just slides closer, knees brushing yours. Hands braced on either side of your thighs like he’s holding himself back from climbing into your lap. Like if he gets too close, he won’t be able to stop.

His voice is soft when it comes. Careful.

“I don’t wanna mess this up.”

You blink. “What?”

“This,” he says, eyes darting between yours. “You. Us.”

Your heart kicks.

“I’m serious,” he adds. “If you want me to stop, I will. Even if I’ve already started. Even if you change your mind in the middle. I need you to know that.”

You just look at him.

At his flushed cheeks, his trembling fingers gripping the couch cushion, the way his eyes won’t stay still—darting to your mouth, your thighs, your eyes again.

You don’t know how to say what’s clawing up your throat. Don’t know how to explain that you’ve never felt like this. Like you could fall apart and not have to put yourself back together alone.

So instead, you reach for him.

You thread your fingers through his, bring his hand to your thigh—bare skin under the edge of your sleep shirt—and press it there, warm and waiting.

His breath stutters.

“Okay,” you whisper.

His breath stutters.

That’s all it takes.

His fingers flex against your thigh—just a twitch, nothing urgent. But the heat of them sinks in deep. You can feel how careful he’s being, how tightly he’s holding the leash on himself, like he doesn’t trust what’ll happen if he moves too fast.

You tilt your hips slightly. Just enough.

He moves.

Slides his hand higher, beneath the hem of your sleep shirt. Knuckles grazing soft skin, the inside of your thigh, and you’re already trembling. The anticipation is thick—so much thicker than anything that’s come before it. Your body’s aching and he hasn’t even touched you where you need it yet.

Han breathes out slowly. You can hear the effort it takes not to rush.

His fingers reach your panties.

They’re soaked. Clinging to you. And he makes a sound in the back of his throat when he feels it—somewhere between a sigh and a groan, like it’s hurting him, how wet you already are.

“You’re shaking,” he whispers.

“I’m trying not to.”

“You don’t have to,” he says, and leans in to kiss the corner of your mouth. “You can just let me take care of it.”

And you do.

You sink into the cushions and let his hand keep climbing. Let it trail over skin that’s already too hot, too tight, too aware. The hem of your shirt rides up over your hips as he moves, exposing soft skin and damp fabric.

He touches you through your panties first. Just a single stroke—up and down, slow, deliberate.

You jolt.

Your thighs twitch. Your hips tilt into his hand before you even mean to.

His fingers are steady. Gentle. No fumbling, no testing limits just to say he did. He strokes over the soaked cotton with maddening patience, slow enough that your body’s buzzing before he even slides them aside.

He strokes over the soaked cotton with maddening patience, slow enough that your body’s buzzing before he even slides them aside.

When he does, it’s with a breathless little sound—almost like awe.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, voice low and tight. “You’re so wet already.”

You shiver.

He doesn’t ask permission again. He doesn’t need to. Your legs fall open on instinct, your body already offering itself up like it’s been waiting for this. For him.

He dips his fingers into you with quiet care—just the first two, slow and unhurried, and it’s so much. Not just the stretch, not just the slick slide of it—it’s the way he groans like he can feel how good you feel around him. Like your body is turning him on just by existing.

“Holy shit,” he breathes. “How has no one made you cum?”

You whimper.

“Seriously,” he says, fingers curling slightly inside you, rubbing against that spot that makes your toes curl. “You’ve got the prettiest fucking pussy I’ve ever seen. Wet and warm and just—fuck, baby.”

Your hips jolt when he says it—baby—and he notices. His mouth quirks.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, watching your face like it’s giving him instructions. “You like that. Being talked to while I fuck you with my fingers?”

You moan—helpless, high-pitched—and your hand shoots down to grab his wrist.

He stills immediately. “Too much?”

You shake your head. Or maybe you nod. You don’t even know anymore—your brain’s barely holding on, your body dragging you under, soaking up everything he gives like it’s the first drop of water in a drought.

He watches your reaction like it’s gospel. Like every twitch and gasp is holy.

“Thought so,” he says, and starts to move again—slow, controlled pumps of his fingers, careful not to lose that rhythm now that he’s found what works. The way your walls clench when he curls. The way your hips chase him when he retreats. The way your breath hitches when his palm drags across your clit just a little too hard.

And god, he uses it all.

“Fuck,” he mutters, eyes glued to where he’s working you open. “If this pussy was mine, I wouldn’t be able to leave you alone.”

You gasp.

“I’d keep you like this every night,” he says, voice thick now. “Stuffed, dripping, begging for it. Just like this.”

You keen, head falling back against the cushions, thighs straining around his wrist. Another twist of his fingers, another filthy curl, and you’re spiraling again—clenching, grinding, chasing something you’ve never actually caught before.

But it’s still not enough.

Close, so close. You can feel it in your gut, in the burn behind your eyes, in the way your whole body draws tight like a wire about to snap. But then it slips, slithers away like it always does, leaving you aching and wrung out and panting like you’ve been running in circles.

Han doesn’t stop.

He slows, sure. Eases off that pressure like he knows—like he felt the way you were peaking and watched it fall apart all over again.

Your breath stutters. Your hands tremble where they’re gripping the couch cushions. Your whole body shakes with the frustration of it.

Han looks fucking thrilled.

“Shit,” he whispers, eyes glued to the slick mess between your legs. “You’re gonna be a fucking problem, huh?

You whimper—shaky, half-desperate—and try to pull your legs closed, but his free hand slides up your thigh and keeps them open. He’s still panting, still hard in his sweats, and yet somehow entirely focused on you.

Your voice comes out broken. “I can’t—fuck, Han, I was so close—”

“I know, baby,” he murmurs, leaning over you. His fingers finally slip free, soaked and shining, and he brings them to his mouth like it’s nothing. Like tasting you is just a thing he does between breaths. “You’re so fucking pretty can’t believe no one’s ever made you come.”

He sucks one finger between his lips, humming low in his throat, and your entire body jerks.

He grins around his knuckle. Blushy. Sweet. Still Han, somehow—except his eyes are dark now, slow-burning, locked onto you with intent.

And when he speaks, it’s not teasing. It’s reverent.

“I knew you’d taste good,” he murmurs, dragging his hand down your thigh again. “Didn’t think you’d ruin me this fast, though.”

You squirm, still reeling from the touch of his fingers, still aching from how close you came—how it slipped just out of reach. Your panties are somewhere around your knees now, tangled and damp, and your thighs are trembling despite the warmth of the room.

But Han doesn’t give you time to settle.

He drops back down between your legs like it’s instinct.

Like he belongs there.

You brace for it—his mouth, his tongue—but nothing prepares you for how intentional it is.

Because when he licks you, it’s not just lust. It’s devotion.

The first press of his tongue is slow, hot, drawn out like he’s tasting something forbidden. It drags through your folds, slick and maddening, before he pulls back just slightly and exhales a shaky breath against your cunt like it’s worship.

“Fuck,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “You’re so fucking sweet. So wet—dripping for me, baby.”

Your hips jerk. A soft moan tears from your throat, helpless and startled.

He hums at the sound. And then his tongue is on you again—lapping, curling, sliding in lazy circles around your clit, not rushed, not rough. Patient.

But it’s overwhelming.

Too much and somehow still not enough.

You gasp, spine arching. Your thighs twitch against his shoulders again and he presses his hands there—holding you open, keeping you still. His grip is firm, grounding. Gentle only in contrast to the way he eats you.

He groans low when your hips roll, when your slick coats his lips and chin. Like it turns him on more than anything else. Like this is the part he needs.

He devours you like he’s starved for it.

Like he’s been thinking about this—you—for longer than he’s willing to admit. Tongue slow but deliberate, savoring every stroke, every gasp you give him. He doesn’t speak now, doesn’t need to. The sounds alone—your moans, the wet suck of his mouth, the way your breath stutters every time he flattens his tongue against your clit—say enough.

But it’s your reactions that do it. The way your body jumps every time he moves just right. The way your hands scramble for the couch cushions, for him, like you don’t know what else to hold onto. The way your thighs clamp around his head when he groans into your cunt.

That’s when he realizes.

You’ve never been eaten out before.

It hits him all at once—in the way you shiver, in the way your body doesn’t quite know how to take the pleasure he’s giving. There’s something raw about it. Uncharted. Holy.

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t tease. Just lets the knowledge settle deep in his chest like a vow.

So he slows down. Not to drag it out—to care. To guide you through it.

He pulls back just slightly, presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another one, lower, softer. You can feel his breath against your skin, shaky and uneven, like you are unraveling him just by letting him do this.

He kisses down, worshipful, open-mouthed presses of tongue and lips trailing toward where you’re slick and trembling—until he’s back on you, groaning deep in his chest like he needs this to survive.

He laps at your cunt like a man obsessed. Messy, wet, obscene.

His tongue flicks fast over your clit, sloppy and relentless, and when you whimper—high and panicked—his hands tighten on your thighs, dragging them wider, pushing you open like he can’t get enough. His nose presses into the soft swell of you and his mouth won’t stop.

And god—god, the noises.

The slick suck of his mouth, the soft wet licks between your folds, the broken, wanton moans he keeps letting out like your taste is fucking euphoric.

Your thighs are trembling against his cheeks, toes curling against the cushions, hands fisting in the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to this plane of existence. Every time you start to come down, he drags you right back up—tongue flicking, then flattening, then sucking.

You’re soaking him. You know it. Can feel the slick mess coating his lips, his chin, now—but he doesn’t care. Doesn’t even flinch. Just dives in deeper, grinds his mouth against you like it’s the only thing that matters.

And maybe it is.

You’ve never made sounds like this before. Never felt anything like this. It’s a full-body unraveling—pleasure so raw and high-pitched it’s almost unbearable. You can’t even find words anymore. You try—gasp out his name, maybe a plea, maybe a warning—but it’s just breath. Just noise.

He hears it anyway.

Groans in response, and the vibration shoots through you—tightens every nerve, every muscle. You feel it everywhere. In your spine, in your belly, in your fucking teeth.

He licks through your folds like he’s trying to commit the shape of you to memory, tongue dragging over your clit in slow, hard laps now—intentional, devastating. One hand lets go of your thigh to slide underneath you, to lift your hips, tilt you toward his mouth like an offering.

Like you’re his altar and he’s ready to worship.

You don’t even realize you're crying until the tears hit your cheeks—silent and sudden, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of it, the depth of it, the relentlessness of him.

Jisung doesn’t notice.

Or maybe he does and just thinks it’s holy.

Because he’s still moaning against your cunt like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Like this is salvation. Like this is his first time, too.

The warmth is unbearable. Sharp and sweet and all-consuming, climbing up your spine in thick, molten waves that won’t stop—won’t let you go. Your muscles are locking up, your breath catching in your throat, your fingers cramping from how tight you're clenching the cushions.

You’re going to break.

You know it.

You want to.

And he just keeps going—tongue pressed flat and firm against your clit now, dragging in slow, filthy circles while his lips suck softly, reverently, like he’s trying to love you apart piece by piece.

You feel it snap somewhere deep inside you.

The heat—the ache—the need—it peaks.

And then it bursts..

Your thighs clamp around his head, your hips jerk off the couch, your moan rips loose from your throat like you’ve been silenced your whole life and this is the only language your body ever needed to speak.

You’re cumming. Hard. Helpless.

Everything pulses—your cunt, your chest, your fingers. Every nerve is alight, every inch of you clenched and shaking, your whole body seized in the grip of something so big you can’t name it.

And Jisung doesn’t stop.

Not when your legs twitch.

Not when your body tries to squirm away.

Not even when you sob his name, high and wrecked, too sensitive to breathe.

He eats it up. Literally.

Groaning low in his throat, nose pressed to your mound, tongue still working your clit like he wants to wring another orgasm out of you before this one’s even ended. You try to stop him, legs trembling, fingers pushing at his hair with barely any strength behind them.

But he just moans again, long and loud and ruined, the vibration shooting straight through your core.

“H-Han—” you gasp, voice cracked and teary.

But he can’t stop. He won’t.

You’ve broken open for him—shattered for him—and it’s like something inside him snapped too. His mouth keeps moving, lapping through your folds like he’s addicted, like he needs the taste of you to live, sucking every drop from your body like he’s trying to memorize it.

You try again to push him off. This time with real effort. A desperate shove, your fingers fisting in his hair and yanking—not hard, not mean, but urgent.

“Han, please—”

He finally pulls back.

Gasps.

His chest is heaving. His mouth is slick and swollen, the lower half of his face soaked in your release, and he blinks up at you like he forgot where he is.

“Shit—fuck, I’m sorry, I—” he pants, voice wrecked, dazed.

Then he looks down.

And groans.

Because you’re still dripping.

Slick pooling out of you, slow and obscene, catching the light as it runs in glistening streaks down the curve of your pussy and the swell of your ass, soaking the couch beneath you.

And he can’t help himself.

His hands slide up your thighs again—possessive, reverent—and before you can stop him, he leans back in.

One long, filthy lick—from your entrance to your clit—slurping up everything you spilled. He moans as it hits his tongue, deep and satisfied, and swirls it around like he’s tasting honey.

He pulls back just far enough to look at you.

Face flushed, lips swollen and slick, chin glossy with your release. His eyes are glassy—fucked-out and starving and soft in a way that shouldn’t match the filth of what he just did to you. But somehow it does.

Somehow, it makes it worse.

He’s panting like he just ran miles. Sweat dampens his curls, his hoodie clings to his chest, and his cock is still straining hard against his sweats—visibly aching. But he doesn’t even look at himself. Doesn’t even care.

He’s still looking at you.

At the mess he made.

At your cunt—pink and soaked and fluttering with aftershocks, spread open on the couch like he carved you out just for him.

And he fucking smiles.

“Jesus,” he breathes, dragging his thumb along your inner thigh, slow and lazy, eyes still locked on the slick between your legs. “You’re unreal.”

You’re still trembling—wrung out, flushed, completely silent now except for the shattered sound of your breath.

But he isn’t done.

Not really.

Because then his thumb moves—trails closer, closer, until it’s swiping through the slick seam of you, collecting it, spreading it.

You flinch, hips twitching, breath hitching on a wrecked little gasp.

He freezes.

“Sorry—shit, sorry,” he murmurs, voice gone soft in the edges. “You’re probably so fucking sensitive right now.”

You nod, dazed. Barely. You’re not even sure you meant to.

But his eyes drop back down—and the sight of your cunt twitching under his touch, the way slick is still dripping out of you, slow and shiny, pooling where your thighs meet—

It short-circuits whatever restraint he had left.

“Can I…” he starts, already leaning in again, lips parted, breath ragged. “Just—one more taste, baby. Please.”

And before you can answer, he’s there again.

Licking into you.

Tongue flat and greedy, slow and deep, sliding through the wreckage he left behind like he needs it to breathe. He moans—loud—when it coats his tongue, when it drips down his chin, when he presses another kiss to your clit like he’s thanking it for everything.

You can’t stop shaking.

From how tender he’s being while still devouring you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. From how overwhelmed your body feels—stretched between too much and not enough, oversensitive but still wanting.

He doesn’t rush now. Doesn’t try to make you cum again.

This is different.

It’s reverent. Like he’s cleaning you up with his mouth, dragging his tongue through every slick drop, pressing soft kisses into the mess like he’s trying to soothe the tremble in your thighs.

You whimper, just once—raw and hoarse.

That’s when he stops for real.

You sigh into his mouth, quiet and trembling, the kind of sound that only comes when everything inside you is raw—peeled back, exposed, open. He swallows it like it’s precious. Like it matters.

His hand at your waist shifts, pulling you gently forward until your chest brushes his. You’re still bare from the waist down—thighs sticky, breath uneven—and he’s still clothed, still hard, still aching beneath his sweats.

But he doesn’t grind against you.

Doesn’t ask for anything.

He just holds you.

Your knees fall around his hips, lazy and loose, and his thumb strokes the hinge of your jaw—slow, absent, like he needs the contact to stay calm.

The kiss deepens. Not with hunger. With heat. With reverence. His lips move against yours like he wants to memorize the shape of your mouth, your breath, the taste of your tongue mixed with your own arousal.

You break first—pulling back just a fraction to breathe, eyes fluttering open.

He’s already looking at you.

And there’s something in his gaze that wasn’t there before. Something stunned. Struck. Soft.

He whispers, “You okay?”

You nod. Maybe too fast. You feel stripped down to something small and shaking, something new—but his hand doesn’t leave you. His thumb still brushes your cheek. His chest still rises and falls like he’s feeling everything with you.

You whisper back, “I didn’t know it could feel like that.”

Jisung exhales a laugh—wrecked and wrecking.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, leaning forward again to press a kiss to your cheek, then another to your temple. “Then I guess we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

You don’t even realize you’re smiling until he kisses it. Presses his lips right there, at the corner of your mouth, so gentle it makes your eyes sting all over again.

There’s a beat of silence—thick and golden, warm between the ruined rhythm of your breathing.

Then he asks, quieter this time, “Can I hold you for a while?”

And god. You’ve never wanted anything more.

______________________________________________________________

The crowd pours out of the auditorium like a tide—caps slightly askew, diplomas clutched tight, families gathered in little clusters of congratulations and cameras. Laughter. Shouts. The click of heels and the flutter of gowns. You scan the crowd, heart racing, eyes darting.

And then you see him.

Leaning awkwardly against a tree, holding a slightly crumpled bouquet of grocery store flowers and dressed in the nicest outfit you’ve ever seen him wear. Still a hoodie—because he’s him—but it’s black and clean and zipped halfway up over a plain white tee. His hair’s been pushed back, curls tamed, face soft in the sunlight.

Like he wanted to look good.

For you.

You run.

Full sprint, no hesitation. Laughing, radiant, the hem of your gown flying behind you. And Jisung barely has time to react before you crash into his arms—legs wrapping around his waist, face buried in his neck.

He catches you without thinking. Arms locked tight around your back, holding you like the whole world could fall away and he’d still have you.

“Jesus—hi,” he breathes, stunned, grinning into your shoulder. 

“You came,” you whisper, pulling back just enough to look at him, eyes glassy and sunlit.

“Of course I came,” he murmurs, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “I wouldn’t miss this.”

You swallow, smile trembling just a little. You’re still holding your cap too tightly. Still searching the crowd behind him, over his shoulder, behind trees and between cars—hoping.

And Jisung sees it.

Sees the flicker in your expression when you realize no one else is coming. No familiar voices calling your name. No parents weaving through the crowd, late and disheveled but here. Nothing.

Just him.

You try to play it off—force a smile, tilt your head.

But Jisung just exhales, jaw tight, eyes warm and sharp.

“Hey,” he says softly, tipping your chin up. “Fuck ‘em.”

Your breath hitches—more from the way he says it than what he says. No apology. No pity. Just truth, blunt and biting and yours.

“Fuck ‘em,” he says again, firmer this time. “They don’t get to take this from you.”

And something in you cracks. Not the kind that breaks—the kind that lets light in.

Your cap slips from your hand to the pavement. You don’t even notice. You just lean forward and let your forehead rest against his, eyes fluttering shut as the noise of the world fades away.

“I thought it wouldn’t matter,” you whisper. “That I didn’t care.”

He nods like he already knew. Lets his hand fall to the small of your back, thumb tracing slow circles through the fabric of your gown.

“But it does,” you admit.

“Of course it does,” he murmurs. “You deserved more than this.”

You pull in a shaky breath. Exhale. Nod against him.

And then you laugh—quiet, almost startled. “God, you look nice.”

He pulls back just enough to give you a crooked smile. “You noticed?”

You sniffle, wiping under your eyes. “You did your hair.”

“I used product and everything,” he says solemnly, and that makes you laugh for real this time. His face lights up at the sound. Then, like he remembers something, his eyes go wide and he fumbles for something in his pocket.

“Wait—here. Got you something.”

You raise a brow as he pulls out a pair of slightly beat-up white AirPods and holds them out like they’re wrapped in silk.

“Your... earwax?” you tease, voice still thick, but lighter now.

Jisung groans, face going red. “Just put them in, smartass.”

You give him a look, lips twitching like you’re holding back another laugh, but you take them. Slip them in with practiced ease, still smirking, still sniffling a little.

And then—

You hear it.

Soft at first. A low, warm hum of synth. That familiar piano progression you’ve heard a hundred times echoing from his bedroom speakers, half-finished and always evolving. A quiet heartbeat of static underneath, the sound of something personal, unfinished—

But not this time.

Now it’s whole.

The bass comes in slow. The melody rises. The rhythm finds its footing like it’s been waiting for you.

Then his voice.

His voice.

Low. Raw. Stripped back and unfiltered, like he recorded it in the middle of the night, barefaced and half asleep. It’s not polished. It’s intimate. Each lyric laid out like a confession, like he’s pressing it directly into your chest.

You freeze.

Your mouth parts, but no words come out. You just stare at him—eyes wide, breath caught, the world suddenly nothing but him and the song in your ears.

Jisung watches you closely, fidgeting, clearly trying to read your face.

“I, uh… I finally finished it,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Track 12. I—kind of stayed up all night working on it. Wanted you to be the first to hear it.”

You swallow hard. “You—wrote this… for me?”

He nods, sheepish. “Well, yeah. Who the fuck else would it be for?”

You blink at him, still stunned, still half-floating somewhere between the melody and his smile.

The music wraps around you like a secret, like sunlight through a window. His voice in your ears. His eyes on your face. His hands fidgeting at his sides, picking at the edge of his hoodie sleeve, suddenly nervous like he didn’t just lay his heart bare in a three-minute track.

And then he says it.

Quiet. Almost like it slips out.

“I’m in love with you.”

Your breath stutters.

He panics a little, eyes going wide, hands gesturing now like he’s trying to physically catch the words and shove them back into his mouth.

“I mean—not in like, a weird, ‘I wrote you a song and now you have to marry me’ way. I just—I’ve been in love with you for a while, and I didn’t know how to say it. And then I kept not saying it, and then you let me eat you out on your couch and I was like, oh cool, guess I’m definitely in love with her—”

You stare at him.

Mouth slightly open. Ears still ringing with his voice from the track. Face flushed from the heat of him and the way he’s unraveling in front of you, hands flailing, words tumbling out too fast, too honest, too him.

“And now I’m saying it,” he rushes on, breath hitching. “And maybe it’s too soon or maybe it’s stupid but—fuck, I don’t care. I love you. And I don’t just mean in the afterglow, post-head, 'wow-she’s-so-pretty-when-she’s-cumming' kind of way—which, like, you are—but I mean in the real way. In the way where I think about you all the time and you’re in my music and my coffee and my fucking laundry detergent because you smell like it now—”

You cut him off with a laugh—soft and stunned, the kind that comes from something blooming too fast in your chest. Your hands reach for him instinctively, palms pressed to his chest like you’re trying to slow his heart down, or maybe match yours to it.

Then lean up and kiss him.

He melts into it—hands landing on your waist like he’s afraid you’ll float off if he doesn’t hold you down. His mouth is soft, a little shaky, like he still can’t believe this is happening. Like he’s kissing you with both hands behind his back, offering up his heart like a truce.

When you pull back, your forehead rests against his.

You’re smiling. He is too, in that breathless, stunned way—like you’ve both finally exhaled.

“I’m in love with you too,” you whisper.

He chokes out a sound. Somewhere between a laugh and a gasp. “No shit?”

You nod. “No shit.”

Jisung blinks, then grins—slow and wide and boyish.

He just stands there, still holding you, like his body hasn’t caught up with what just happened.

Like he's trying to memorize this moment—your smile, your closeness, the soft heat of your hands resting over his heart.

He opens his mouth like he wants to say something else. Closes it again.

Then settles for a quiet, breathless, “...Okay.”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “Okay?”

He nods, dazed. “Yeah. Just… okay. Everything’s okay now.”

You lean into his chest, let your head fall to his shoulder. He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for months. His arms wrap around your waist again, this time more certain. More steady.

And for a moment, neither of you says anything.

The crowd is still bustling in the background. Cameras flashing. Tassels swinging. Parents calling names that don’t belong to you. The sound of it used to sting—but not now. Not with him holding you like this. Not with the song still echoing in your ears, a private chorus written just for you.

You glance up. “So what now?”

He looks down at you, still smiling like he doesn’t know how to stop.

“We go home,” he says. “Order too much food. Fall asleep on the couch. Pretend we’re not both crying during The Office reruns.”

You snort. “That’s your big plan?”

He leans in, nudges your nose with his. “No,” he murmurs, softer now. “My big plan is to love you for a really, really long time.”

Your heart stutters.

And it’s so simple—so quiet, so uncomplicated—but it wraps around you like warmth, settles deep in your bones like something you forgot you were allowed to want.

You tip forward and kiss him again, just once. Just enough.

“Sounds like a good plan,” you whisper.

He grins. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Eventually, your fingers find his, threading together as the crowd begins to thin. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, grounding and sure.

You glance down at the flowers, still clutched in your other hand—slightly crushed, petals soft and folding in from the heat. But they’re yours. Someone showed up. Someone stayed.

You’re walking away with his hand in yours, the sun dipping low behind you, the final track still playing softly in your head.

It ends the way all good songs do.

Quiet.

Certain.

Yours.

[lovuiwon]

stonerbf!han drabble

this is nsfw material — MDNI

⋆˚꩜｡ it was supposed to be a calm, dozy evening with your boyfriend, however he doesn’t hesitate to fulfill your desires if you ask politely

⋆˚꩜｡ tags: fingering, squirting, softdom!hannie, sub!reader, needy behaviour, a lot of praise, weed consumption from both parties, vanilla for the most part, degradation (if you squint), sexual behaviour under the influence, suggestive ending.

⋆˚꩜｡ authors note: this is my first ever time writing on here guys! please lmk if you want a part two, or send me a request if you have a specific scenario you would like, sorry if it’s not the best writing and please feel free to give me tips!! english is not my first language so i apologise if there is any grammar mistakes, also not proofread sorry guys xx

word count: 1.3k

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

you felt your limbs grow heavy gradually as the smallest hand on the nearby clock ticked over the small 12 signifying a new hour , your legs sinking into the crisp, freshly washed duvet, your back falling through the material into the abyss of smoke and comfort and your eyelashes almost sticking to the soft skin below your waterline.

“your thoughts are so loud pretty girl, i can hear them from over here”, han murmured gently from his place beside you, slowly lifting his arm to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear as he did so, his smile transforming into a slight frown at your lack of an answer. “sweetness y’gotta tell me hm? otherwise how is your all- talented boyfriend gonna fix the issue?”, you stifled a giggle, slowly turning your face to look at him, and taking the slowly burning joint from his fingers to place in your own mouth.

your eyes tracked up and down slowly, appreciating, savouring and devouring — his casual attire now slightly crumpled, his messy hair falling over his slightly droopy expression, and his chocolate eyes looking at you with a deep longing to fix. you had messaged him earlier, requesting nothing but a calm night in accompanied by cuddles with your boyfriend, maybe a shit movie as background noise, something simple to clear your mind from the stress that had managed to seep its way into the cracks of your thoughts— and with the added pleasure of weed, you had started to count down the minutes hours ago, longing for the fog to cloud your body, and the smell to overwhelm your senses.

5 hours later you had landed in this position, half lying on top of han, half engulfed in his blankets which smelt completely of him, lips slightly reddened and chin now glittery with lip gloss, from your previous make out session not five minutes ago.

“need you hannie”, you managed to slip out quietly, his face falling into an expression of love and lust immediately. “need what baby..gotta tell me what or i can’t help”, at that your face flushed, pupils widen and legs clench together unconsciously, slightly annoyed and impatient at his teasing as you shrug your shoulders and place the joint back into your mouth, feeling the smoke swim down your throat and into your lungs.

his hands immediately go to grab the spliff from between your forefinger and thumb, and to stamp it out, hands lifting to your jaw, stroking back and forth slowly on your cheek, before leaning in and connecting your lips. his mouth was soft on yours, tasting and feeling like familiarity and bitter plant as his tongue began to gently swipe at your bottom lip before entering your mouth. as the smoke began to resurface, instead of floating up, up and away into the already cloudy room, it passed between you both, mixing then exiting out his mouth as he let out a quiet groan and moving his hand down, skimming your shoulder and venturing under your shirt.

“so soft for me, so fucking soft”, he murmured as his hand moved upwards over your breast, lightly tracing over your nipple until it hardens and your toes slightly curl before worshipping the other one, treating it with the same delicacy and detail. whatever warmth and fire that was beginning to light inside you previously increases tenfold, feeling your panties begin to soak and your thighs grind against each other in search of the friction you so desire, as han gently grabs your hips to position you below his towering figure.

“let hannie take care of you, just relax and feel for me”, you find yourself nodding without intent as you stare up into his face, with a look shrouded with need and desire, his shoulders bracketing you with one hand holding him upright and the other now pushing up your tank top, exposing your bare breasts. “so fucking beautiful, these tits made just for me”, he sighs, his fingers now dancing along your stomach watching your muscles jump under his touch. before he reaches the band of your shorts he looks up at you, waiting for confirmation to which you simply nod and he shakes his head; “tsk baby, use your words”, the words now coming out as a slight growl. his change in demeanour makes your pussy gush with anticipation, “hannie please, just need you, anything, please”, you find yourself almost whining, to which his expression softened slightly. “okay beautiful, you have me”

his fingers prance across your waistband before slowly tugging your shorts down your thighs along with your panties, leaving you completely exposed to his adoring stare. “fuck honey, you’re soaked f’me”, he almost winces in admiration, “practically dripping down your thighs..my filthy fucking slut hm? so needy for me all the time, just need me to clear that busy head” he mutters while tapping your temple gently. you feel a whine bubbling up in your throat as you push your hips upwards, chasing touches that haven’t manifested yet, to which han took the hint and finally begins to swipe his digits through your folds before moving to slowly circle around your clit. moans quietly fill the space, the sound dampened by the affects of weed, but the feelings amplified, as his middle and ring finger slowly travel downwards towards your slit, tracing back and forth before plunging deep without warning. a loud moan escapes your lips, which he quickly muffles with his mouth, his tongue moving in tandem with his fingers which are prodding and curling right against the gummy sensitive, spot inside only he could reach

you feel your thighs start to shake as the pace of his movements increases and his kisses start to shift into open mouth presses against your jaw and neck, nipping slightly in his path, pain blossoming into anticipation of the marks you know will adorn the column of your neck the next morning. his long digits now pistoning in and out of your tight warm heat, as the heat and arousal grows with the volume of the whimpers leaving your mouth — “hannie please..more, need more” you manage to mutter out under your breath, to which he complies immediately, bringing his thumb back to trace figure eights on your throbbing clit. “look so perfect crying on my fingers baby, such a good girl for me..let go baby”, he groans out, clearly fighting his own arousal, giving you the push you need to cross the line. your thighs begin to shake against his forearms, eyes roll back into your head as electric pleasure seizes your body in its grasp, hot euphoria pulsing through every crevice of your skin and soul, and your pussy clenching tightly against his fingers.

“that’s it..such a good girl, so fucking good” he chants under his breath as the tremors in your limbs begin to subside, however his arm does not stop moving, and the curl in his digits increases alongside side the speed and intensity of his thumb. “hannie please s’too much please” you whine out, but his actions don’t slow. “come on baby one more time, you can do it” he replies, his pupils now dilated with intent and arousal. your whole body clenches, as the previous pleasure now creeps back into your body tenfold, your toes curling and your hands grasping onto his biceps as leverage as your cunt pulses and clear liquid drenches your boyfriends hand and arm along with your thighs, and drips down onto the sheets. his dick, now painfully tenting against his sweatpants, starts to leak out with precum staining the front of his boxers, and he feels himself almost cum at the sight of his soaked arm and your blissed out expression. “oh baby did so well, fucking squirted all over me” he practically moans as your headspace clears and your eyes pivot to his hardening cock.

“my turn” you state, whilst still in a daze and whilst moving to kneel up, pushing him so he’s lying on his back.

[cheolliecherie]

Love Learning | nerd!cheol x f!reader

wc: +20.4K

genre: fluff, smut, angst. college! au

cw: voyeurism, dry humping, fingering, masturbation, cheol is lowkey a perv oops but only for you, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (f. receiving. implied), mentions of contraceptives, physical violence (just once, nothing big), blood, injury, oral (m. receiving), cum eating, public sex, alcohol consumption.

other content: nerdy! cheol (just bordering on loser! cheol), jealous! cheol (didn't know if I should put it in the cw but felt like I should mention it nonetheless), virgin! cheol, subby! cheol, fails to pull out. omg there's really a lot going on here. they're both overthinkers so lots of inner thoughts.

summary (I'm bad at these bear with me): He's had a crush on you ever since you started university. Due to reasons unrelated to your studies, you start to fall behind on class, resulting on your professor setting you up with Seungcheol for tutoring. He's the best candidate, but you make it real hard for him to focus on his task instead of wanting you in any way possible. How much can things change between you after your established agreement?

a/n: All the times I've seen him wear glasses this year did something to me and I was possessed to write this. Can y'all tell? I've been working on this one since the beginning of December. My goal was for it to have a good balance of cute fluffy moments while also being steamy (they're freaky, horny and very very naughty idk who's worse. Also I don't think I've ever written so many smut scenes in my life lmao). Title sucks. This wasn't even meant to be so long I'm sorry (I'm sure it's the longest fic I've posted on this blog) so if you read til the end thank u sm and I hope there's a moment, scene or detail that you like!! This one might count as a present for the holidays too :D As always, imma hit post and fling my laptop away. Also my brain's kinda fried after writing sm lol. Appreciate every interaction! bye bye - cherie <3

playlist: HARD by FKA Twigs, Piece of Mine by FKA Twigs, Smoochie Girl by Ashnikko, SNEAKING OUT OF HEAVEN by Waterparks, Ghost by 5 Seconds of Summer. (Welcome to my ongoing smoochie eusexua star girly identity crisis meeting my crush on cheol. This story is the lovechild of their new albums bc music governs my life).

1 : Tutor

He really didn't mean to watch. He'd arrived maybe a few minutes earlier from the time you'd begrudgingly agreed to meet for your first tutoring session.

Your roommate had opened the door just as he reached for the doorknob, unhospitable and unimpressed, "What are you doing here?"

He should be used to that kind of welcoming from people like her. Still, he stuttered and stumbled over his words right there on the threshold, one arm still outstretched, the other clutching a couple of his books. When she rose a questioning brow, he finally snapped out of it, pushing his glasses up with his free hand. "I- I'm tutoring y/n." He stared down at his watch. "We set to meet at 4:30. This is her dorm, right?"

That seemed to have piqued her interest, before she grimaced and brushed him off. "Second door on the left. Her room." Without another glance, she walked past him and left, closing the door behind her.

He stood by the entryway lamely for a couple minutes, nervously looking around and clutching the class' books in his arm. It wasn't a big deal. He'd just be in the same room alone with the girl he had a slight crush on since first year. Emphasis on slight, okay? Her room that's filled with everything her, and her smell is bound to be everywhere overwhelming his senses. Totally fine. He gave a last glance around the small living room before walking over towards the second door to the left.

It was open, able to see inside only through a tiny gap. And for the second time in less than 10 minutes, his hand froze on its way to push it open, eyes blown wide behind his glasses.

You were on your bed, damp panties pushed down, a pillow between your legs as you grinded over it lazily. He swallowed, though his mouth had gone really dry. He really should've looked away instantly, but he couldn't move, eyes zeroed in on the scene in front of him. The only sounds he could hear were the tiny puffs of air coming out of your mouth turning into gasps whenever the pillow beneath you caused a delicious friction against your clit, the rustle of your bed sheets. When you bent slightly forward and your skirt riled up your ass, it gave him a complete view of your pussy.

"Fuck". He mouthed, still unable to tear his eyes away, voice lost and face growing hotter. It wasn't the only thing growing. He bit his lip hard, an almost painful expression in his face at how his pants were starting to feel really uncomfortable. At the same time, he was thankful he'd chosen to dress up a little more and wear jeans instead of his usual sweats.

You picked up a more desperate pace, and he could see the way your poor pussy clenched over nothing, wet and glistening with your slick, dripping down your thighs and onto the pillow.

"I want to come, I want to come." he heard your soft pleading whines and he swore he was going to cum in his pants when you also decided to bring the hand that wasn't toying with your nipples down, pushing a finger in. A sound alike a choked sob left your mouth, mixing with the lewd noise of you moving your finger in and out of your pussy. That's when he decided it was tortuous enough without adding the picture of you making yourself cum and hurried down the hall back to the living room, almost dropping his books and giving himself away as a total pervert in the process.

He plopped down on the sofa throwing his books beside him, unable to brush away the image of what you were doing a couple rooms away, and he closed his eyes for a beat in an attempt to calm himself down. His breathing was coming in quick and he felt hot all over. He shifted in his seat, making futile attempts to adjust his pants so they didn't bother him.

He probably should leave. How was he going to go through tutoring with a hard on after he'd seen you like that? Better to look as irresponsible and make an excuse saying he couldn't make it.

But your roommate. She'd tell you he'd been here, and it would be weird that he suddenly decided to leave. What if you figure out that he'd seen you?

He brushed a hand down his face very frustratedly, and decided to text you letting you know he was there. He should've done that from the beginning and he'd saved himself from this but it had totally slipped that you'd exchanged numbers earlier in the week after your professor set you two up for your lessons. He heard a thud and clatter from your room, and a couple minutes later he heard your light steps heading to the living room.

"Did you just get here?" In your haste, you skipped the greetings fearing he might've heard what you were up to, smoothing down your hair nervously. Time had passed by you, and you didn't notice he'd arrive any minute now, too busy trying to get off for the past half an hour unsuccessfully. It's already mortifying enough to think your roommate might've heard you when she suddenly came back looking for something she left behind.

His big, round eyes stared up at you, taking the sight of you in. The slight color on your cheeks, your perky nipples showing under your shirt. His mind wandered as his eyes kept traveling down to your skirt now fixed down, thinking about how you'd soaked your panties, the sight of your ass as you rolled your hips- "Hi," His voice came out breathy. He cleared his throat, "Yeah."

"You good?" You looked at him curiously, and if he wasn't mistaken, the slight curve of your lip was a tell of you trying to hold back a smirk. "Your face is a little red."

"Really? No- I mean, yes I'm great! I just, ran here." He lied. "Sorry for being late."

"You're okay." you brushed him off, turning towards the kitchen, "Do you want some water?"

"That would be nice. Thank you." And a cold shower too, came as an afterthought.

You handed him his glass of water and instead of sitting down, you offered, "Maybe we should study in my room. It'd be more comfortable there." Crossing your arms over your middle as you shifted in place waiting for his response.

He was thankful he managed to drink his water without choking, playing it off like all was good, grabbing his books before standing up and following you. Once inside, you walked over to your desk, grabbing your notebook, book, and pencil pouch, before plopping down on the bed crossed legged and looking over where he was standing dumbly staring at you like a lost puppy.

To his surprise, you laughed. "You're going to take that bookbag off sometime today and sit down?" You tapped a spot on the bed in front of you.

He gulped, shrugging his bag off. He sat down, one leg crossed, the other stretched over the edge of the bed.

"Okay, what should we start with?"

For a while, you both worked in silence. He caught you up again with what the current topic was and what you were working on and from that, you did most on your own, barely asking him anything. You seemed to be fairing well by yourself. That should've given him time to work on his own homework and papers too, but he had caught himself staring at you more than anything else during that time, and when he wasn't, his mind kept replaying how he'd found you earlier, and threatening to make its own script of fantasies.

Your hand reaching out to rest over his thigh stopped his knee from bouncing, making him tense and his breath stop short. "Listen, I know I bitched out before when the professor paired us up. I'm sorry for that, and thank you for still showing up and agreeing to help me."

He looked at you, befuddled. He was not expecting an apology. The way you'd snapped at him and stormed out of the classroom had given him the impression that you didn't want anything to do with him. He'd felt dejected to say the least given his fat ass crush on you, but ever since you'd received him, you'd been nothing but nice to him and he'd known he'd been right in the first place, you were actually really sweet. And now you were mistaking his fidgeting for him being uncomfortable around you. Thus, you kept speaking. "It's just, I really can manage on my own. I don't want to burden you with this or for you to feel obliged to just because our professor made you. I've never had problems with my classes before. Guess I was just distracted with …" Your face fell a little, "It doesn't matter now anyway. We can just tell the professor we're meeting up but we don't actually have to so you still get paid." You finished.

He totally knew that you did okay on your own. You were smart, top of most your classes except this one because it was him. Only when you started to surround yourself with some not-so-smart people and your not-so-smart boyfriend it was that you started to fall behind, skip classes when you never in your life did so before. He couldn't understand what were you doing with a guy like that. His guess about you saying you'd been distracted was that you meant by him. He'd been surprised to recently hear you two had broken up near the end of last term. He was dying to know more. You totally had to have been the one to dump him. But instead, he said something more wise, "It's not a burden. I know you're good without me." Pushing himself to be a bit bolder and take his chance, he said, "And actually, I-I like… this. So we can just have study sessions like these whenever you want. Only if you'd like to of course!"

He was rewarded with bright laughter bubbling up from you. "Sorry. You're cute. But sure, I'd like that too. You have my number." You winked at him, squeezing his thigh before pulling your hand away.

His nose scrunched up, but still he smiled back. He'd take it you calling him cute if it meant hanging out with you again.

\\\

"Cheol, I want to cum. Please make me cum, Cheol." You keep chanting along with his name, words slurring when he hits that spot that turns you into putty in his hands. He's got you bent over that same pillow you were using earlier, face smushed against the mattress now that your arms have given up as he drives his cock in and of you hard from the back. You move in time to meet his thrusts, desperate to reach your high, your hole greedily sucking him in and making a mess all over him. He knows that he might be too much to take, but you're taking him like a champ, his hip bone smacking the fat of your ass with each deep thrust, light red blooming on the tender skin as he kneads it and lands a few spanks.

"Go ahead, baby. Soak my cock with your cum." He encourages, "I'm going to cum inside your pretty pussy, Fill it up even more."

It doesn't take much longer for you both to cum.

Except that when he does, he's alone in his room sitting on his bed with his jeans and underwear pushed down, head thrown back against the headboard as he cums on your panties that are wrapped around his cock as he jerks his hand up and down. The same panties you'd ruined when you were touching yourself that he'd spotted lying under your bed. They'd probably ended there in your rush of you changing and receiving him. He wouldn't have seen them if the ink of the pen you were using hadn't run out, you standing up to get another from your desk complaining about not finding your favorite and making due with a trashy one that you hated. That's when you accidentally dropped something, and bending to pick it up you flashed him. In the second that'd taken him to avert his gaze down, he'd noticed they were different ones, only to find the other pair lying on the floor. He'd reached and pocketed them, telling himself he did it to save you from wondering if he'd seen your underwear lying there the whole time he'd been over.

As his breathing calmed down and post orgasm clarity hit, he was sure of two things: he really was a perv. And pathetic. He heaved out a deep sigh, "This is so wrong."

2: Heartbreaker

It's a few days later when he sees you again after his first lesson of the morning. You're walking out of a lecture hall talking to a classmate when you look forward and wave at him with a smile. He waves back, face heating up. He's not able to hold eye contact for long, guilt bubbling up from the mouth of his stomach at the thoughts and things he's done thinking about you. He hears someone call out your name and looks over to find your ex coming up from the opposite direction walking towards you.

He tenses, jaw clenched as he watches you two talk. He knows he's unreasonably jealous. You're not his. He's not sure if he can even call himself your friend. But he's nothing to you either. The guy's a loser for fumbling you. What do you two even have to talk about?

He's stuck in this circle of thoughts, frowning at nothing when someone walks up to him. A girl he recognizes from one of his classes.

You brush your ex off as quick as you can, telling him to leave you alone and putting on a distance before he can lay a hand on you like you fear he intended to when you saw him reaching over, thinking it much better to go say hi to Seungcheol. But then you notice he's engaged in a far more pleasant conversation compared to yours. He's chatting with a girl, and for once he's not the one looking more nervous. You watch curiously, catching a few words like 'studying sometime together', walking slower than necessary making people skip past you annoyed. The last you get to see is the slight disappointment on the girl's face when Seungcheol seemingly turns the offer down.

The cafeteria is packed like it usually is past midday. You spot him already at a table, and go up to tease him, a lilt in your voice,"You heartbreaker!"

At the sound of your voice, Seungcheol looks up from his sandwich. Flustered, he sputters, "What do you mean?"

"I mean you turning down that poor girl earlier." You elaborate, pointing to a chair with the hand that's not holding your tray and pulling it out to sit in front of him when he nods it's okay.

"She just asked me if I needed a study partner." He tells you, still at a loss at how you came to your conclusions.

"Mmhm." you hum knowingly. "Bet you've been approached by lots of girls asking to "study" with you. Boys too." You grin.

"A few, yeah. How'd you know that?" He asks even more confused.

"You really don't know?" you let out an incredulous laugh. So he's really that oblivious. "You're handsome, smart. People like that. "

He blushes furiously, deciding to look down while taking another bite of his sandwich. You start on your own food as well.

"Do you?" He asks a few beats later.

"What?"

"I mean, do you like that?" He clarifies.

It's your turned to be stunned into silence, before you recover and answer with a slight color on your cheeks. "Yeah. I like that." you say it looking right into his eyes, an alluring look on your own.

Seungcheol's fighting off the huge smile about to take over his features, trying to keep cool. He nods, looking directly into your eyes too, "I already have my study partner."

You eat lunch together, chatting here and there and sitting in comfortable silence when you're not. A while later, you ask him what time is it. When he looks at his watch and tells you, you curse. It's almost time for your next lecture already. You hurry to grab your things and stand up, kissing his cheek goodbye like it's the most natural thing for you to do.

\\\

Mingyu's lying on Seungcheol's bed like it's his own, talking to him while he sits by his desk absentmindedly spinning a pencil in his hand, note-taking forgotten.

He notices Seungcheol spacing out for the nth time. He's let it slide all the other times before, but he's endured enough of not getting attention. He throws his empty water bottle at him. It further proves it's really bad when Seungcheol doesn't even flinch nor throws him a threatening look. "Dude, what's up with you? You've been smiling at the wall for 5 minutes. It's creeping me out."

"I talked to y/n today."

Ah. That makes sense.

"She had lunch with me. Kissed me on the cheek." He says, allowing for a dopey smile to take over. "She thinks I'm handsome too."

"Ugh." Mingyu fakes disgust at his friend's display of lovesickness. He's actually happy for him. You're a nice girl and Seungcheol's been admiring you from afar for a long time. It's great to hear hes had the opportunity to talk to you. He teases,"Great for you. It's good to have someone other than your grandma called you that for once, isn't it?"

Now Mingyu's the victim when an empty can is thrown his way. "I'm feeling very unwelcomed right now. So I'm going to leave you to daydream about how you're going to ask her out and eventually get laid."

3: Movie

Next time you plan your study session you meet at the library one late afternoon. It had been raining for a while, and he's running late for almost fifteen minutes. In the meantime, you'd been working ahead on your own homework. The cool air from the air conditioning, the silence and the misty gray from outside, with droplets of rain racing down the foggy window panes are making you sleepy. You wonder if in the end he thought better of what you told him and chose he didn't really need to come. A text letting you know would've been nice if that's the case.

When Seungcheol finally arrives, he's drenched enough for the librarian to glare at him, already thinking of him leaving puddles on the carpet. It was windy, so his umbrella could only do much to cover him; this resulted in the lower part of his jeans and his shoes to take the brunt of it. While he closed said umbrella right at the door, a light spray had fallen over his head and shoulders. He looks around and doesn't see you. Oh God you left thinking he bailed on you, it's what he starts to think cursing himself as his eyes roam desperately for you until he sees what's definitely your bag on one of the four chairs at a table with papers and stationery spread over it further in the back, the row next to the windows. He turns his head away when he hears light murmuring and laughter. A couple of guys are pointing at something, and as he follows their line of sight there you are, putting back some of the books you were using. The problem is, you're wearing one of those tiny skirts you like - and well, he likes them on you too probably more than you do. You keep wearing them despite the weather getting chillier but he knows better than to question a girl's outfit choice. - and are bending slightly, giving them too much of a good view than what they deserve. He drops his bag on your table and walks over, standing right behind you to shield you from their prying eyes, going as far as to throw daggers at them, who are quick to look away sensing they'd pissed him off.

You gasp, faltering to a stop when you feel something, or well someone right behind you. It's then when he realizes that he might be standing a little too close, his front practically pressed to your back, and he takes a step backwards. Tilting your head and seeing it's him you let out a relieved breath, straightening up and turning. "Seungcheol, you scared me."

"Sorry. I was just- you were crouching down and a couple of idiots were staring." He stutters an explanation, his face warming up while he pushes away the images his brain is bringing up of having you bent over in front of him. God, he has a problem.

Your eyes shoot open when you catch on to what he's saying, and you try to look past him to see which guys is he referring to. You catch them looking over again and they quickly turn away. "Thanks, Cheol. I think it's thanks to you I still have faith that some boys were raised right."

Right. He's awful. I mean, he thinks he's a decent guy. It's just that when it comes to you, most of that decency flies out the window. His poor mom would be so disappointed.

So he gives you what he hopes looks at least close to a genuine smile and chooses to remain silent. You speak again when you take in the state he's in. "Oh my god, your clothes are soaked." You looked at him with concern.

"It's not that bad." Even as he says it he immediately thinks of the librarian's glare.

"It's pretty cold in here already and with your clothes like that…" You shake your head, and he notices how you rub your arms, seeking for warmth. "We should go to your place. Don't want you to get sick. What are you..? No, you need it too! I just said I don't want you to get sick" you frown, arguing as you watch him shrug his jacket off, leaving him in a graphic t-shirt, gently placing it over your shoulders instead.

"We'll go once the rain lets up then. I'll be fine for a bit like this."

As you walk back to your table, you notice the way his shirt molds to his body over broad shoulders, fit on his arms. Meanwhile, he can't help but throw another mean look at the two assholes that were looking at you. You fix his jacket on you. The fabric practically swallows you up, he's several sizes bigger than you. It's so comfortable and warm, and it smells like him. You feel bad but can't help yourself as you snuggle up in it, giving him a grateful look.

You catch up with him about what you'd been working on. He looks it over, and gives you a couple pointers on how to continue. You listen to him closely and in turn help him with his own work. You finish earlier than him since you had a head start, and partly because he keeps stealing not so subtle glances at you, but thankfully for him you're sleepy enough not to notice. You must be tired, but he thinks you look cute regardless, wearing his jacket that's too big for you.

Your head falls on his shoulder and his grip on his mechanical pencil loosens, stopping everything he's doing altogether. Did you just fell asleep on him?

Your groggy voice comes as an answer, "Are you sure you're not cold? You feel cold." He is very much cold but he's not about to let you in on that. And then you're pressing yourself to him on a side hug. "Is it okay if I do this?" You look up at him. His hair's still a little damp. You think it's almost unfair how great he looks.

He looks into your doe eyes. You're so close. Then his gaze travels lower. He really wants to kiss you right now. "Yeah. It's okay." You nod, and nuzzle contentedly into him. He continues to work like that for a while more, or well, more like he pretends to because you're practically cuddling him, in public, and he likes how your hair smells. "I think the rain's letting up." He says regretfully. He really doesn't want to move away from you. Slowly, you straighten up and you both start gathering your things.

When you step outside, you take hold of his arm, cautious of the wet sidewalk. "I'll walk you to your place. We're done with classwork already and you must be tired." He says. You were hoping to hang out a little longer. He notices as you deflate a little. "Unless you want to come over anyways? We could um, watch a movie." He offers and instantly regrets it. That phrase usually is an euphemism. What if you think he's trying to get on your pants- or well, skirt? "Or something."

You brighten up, a glint in your eye."Sure. I'm up for a movie. Or something." You laugh.

His place is nice, surprisingly tidy and organized but with hints that it's lived in, like a forgotten mug on the living room's coffee table, the game controllers on the couch or the things on the kitchen waiting to be put away into the cupboards. In his room, the closet door is open, a pair of shoes sticking out, another jacket hanging from the backrest of his desk chair,the desk is cluttered, a tee shirt thrown over a full body mirror and another bunched on the floor besides the hamper instead of inside. You notice there are a few posters on the walls of bands and artists he likes. Shelves stacked with action figures, lego sets, videogame cases, cds, vinyls, different books and graphic novels.

He drops his bag on the floor by the door and you follow suit. "I just need a minute to get out of these. You can get comfortable." He tells you as he walks over to his drawers and gets what he needs, heading back out to change in the bathroom. You sit on his neatly made bed with your back against the headboard, shifting nervously while you keep looking around his room. He's quick to come back, now wearing black shorts. He looks over for something, the remote control on his night stand for the TV mounted on the wall facing the bed. "Oh shit, my bad. Didn't offer you anything. Would you like something?" Can you blame him for being nervous?

You smile up at him,"I'm okay, thanks."

He nods, sitting down beside you on the bed. "So, what do you feel like watching?"

This time though, you don't answer him. At least not with words. You just look at him and he thinks you're thinking it over. Then your gaze falls to his lips, or did he imagine it? He's still wondering if it is his imagination when you lean in and press a chaste kiss to his lips, and still when you raise yourself, swinging one of your legs over his so you're straddling his thick thighs. He doesn't have but a beat to look up at you with wide, starry eyes before you're cupping his cheeks leaning back down to kiss him. You kiss him slowly, taking your time, trying to memorize how his plump lips feel against your own. They are slightly chapped because of his habit of running his tongue over them but still soft. He tastes your lipgloss in his mouth, something faintly sweet about it, and he'd be glad to wipe it off you and get it smudged all over his face anytime. His hands that were resting on the bed lift just to stay hovering by your sides, twitching unsure where to put them and partly fearing that if he tries to touch you he'll wake up from a dream. As if reading his mind and reassuring him that this is indeed happening, you bite down softly on his bottom lip, making him groan, then you suck on it lightly to relief the sting. One of your hands move up to the back of his neck, threading your fingers through his hair as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss, letting your tongue slip inside his mouth. Your mixed puffs of breath and the sound of your spit covered lips echo in his ears and threaten to drown him but he still forces himself to the surface. "Wai-Wait."

"What's wrong?" You ask him, breath fanning his face. His eyes try to rake all over you at once in case this is all he gets; how your chest rises and falls in time with his, your lips now swollen and shiny. You look him over as well. His skin feels hot to the touch under your palm, where you can see a blush has taken over his fair skin, the deep shade of pink of his lips covered in the light glittery shade of your lipgloss, his glasses askew. He looks too good like this you can't wait to kiss him more but he has yet to answer. The longer he takes to talk though, you start to think you jumped to conclusions, "Wait, is this not what you wanted when you said- You were serious about the movie." You let out a breathy, uncomfortable laugh, totally embarrassed now, eyes downcast to avoid meeting his. You can't believe yourself, starting to move off him,"Fuck, I'm so sorry."

His hands finally find their place on your waist, making you sit back down on him gruffly. If you don't know the effect you have on him you might as well feel it. Your eyes widen when you do, something definitely big pressed right between your legs."No, no. Nothing's wrong." To hell with the movie. Nothing has ever been more right in his eyes. "Just wanted to make sure you were okay with this."

You look more shy than a moment before, but you're back to looking at him, "What do you think?" then you admit in a whisper like you're letting him in on a secret, your lips a breath away from his. "I've actually been thinking about kissing your pretty lips for a while." You kiss the corner of his lips. "Unless maybe this is too fast."

He shakes his head vigorously, "I don't mind fast." And this time he kisses you. You smile into the kiss, and he's on cloud nine. He's really got you sitting on top of him, your mouth ravishing his own. What started as making out sweetly is turning into hot, feverish kisses that have you both gasping heavily against each other's lips, you grinding your clothed core over the bulge in his pants. You move to pepper kisses along his jaw, his neck, your hands tracing his body over his t-shirt; up his torso where they rest a moment on his defined chest, caressing his shoulders then going back down over the muscles in his arms. His hands get the message at last and they release their tight hold on your waist, fingertips sneaking under the hem of your top feeling the warmth emanating from your skin, up, stopping just at the underside of your breasts feeling the delicate lace of your bra. You pull away just for a moment to get rid of your shirt, and he takes in the newly exposed skin with hungry eyes. But it's unfair, you want to touch him, feel him with nothing in between so you pull at his shirt wanting to get rid of it and he appeases you when he does. You admire him as well, surprised to find that under those big sweaters he likes to wear he's toned in all the right places, firm under soft skin. He shivers as you sink your nails on it from his chest down to his abs leaving light red marks on their wake, and you smile. You leave kisses all over his bare skin, teeth biting and nipping softly, teasing. You proudly look over your artwork, marks blooming on his skin.

His own hands smooth over your thighs up until he's cupping your ass under your skirt pressing you impossibly closer, hips bucking up into you as you keep kissing him."We're- We're just making- hah out?"

"Mmm- How far do you wanna go?"

He wants to feel you wrapped around him so badly, eyes threatening to flutter shut with every grind of your hips. He's already so far gone between now and thinking back to that day he'd accidentally seen you getting off all by yourself, your sorry little hole pulsing over nothing asking to be filled up while you begged to cum. He wanted to help you back then, and he surely can do so now. "I want to be inside you. Please." He gasps. He's the one begging now.

You whimper, nodding. He watches as you raise yourself off him so you can shimmy out of your skirt and he gets just a peek of how damp your underwear is before you're sliding it down too and kicking it off somewhere in his room. You might not find those again. You smile bashfully, but the hazy look in his eyes as he looks at you, the hunger you see in them give you a boost of confidence. You deliberately take your time making your way back to him while he fumbles to take his shorts off. You straddle his thighs, pulling his boxers down yourself. He sighs in relief and you watch,stunned, as his big cock springs up and hits his tummy, its tip leaking with precum.

An involuntary whine escapes you,"You're just big everywhere, aren't you?" you say, almost as if speaking to yourself. He gives you a dazed smile, seeing how satisfied you are with the view in front of you. You're tempted to slide down and lean over him for a taste, the lust swirling in your lower belly that shines in your eyes pushing back the thought that he's going to tear you apart when you try to take him. You're torn on where do you want him more. But you'll get a chance to do anything you want together another day, right? So, you swallow the spit gathering in your mouth at the mouthwatering sight. "Condom?"

His smile falters, and vanishes. A word. Just a simple, 6 letter word was threatening to bring crashing down everything that build up to this moment. There was no way this was happening to him. You were half naked and eager in front of him, and he was so hard it was starting to make him hurt and dizzy. You'll hate him if you have to stop everything now. "I don't- I don't have any." And he waits for the worse. Everything stops for a beat.

Okay, maybe your mind was clouded with thoughts about sex, and you wouldn't be able to stand leaving all hot and bothered and frustrated. The need is too much. You want him bad. It's not your proudest moment nor your best suggestion when you speak, "You can pull out."

He stares at you, thinking he might've heard wrong but sees you're being serious."Yeah, yes." He nods eagerly, bringing you forwards. You stumble clumsily over him due to his strength, and laugh, surprised. It turns you on even more when you think of him manhandling you any way he wants.

You lower yourself gently on him so his cock is nuzzled in the warmth between your legs, your puffy lips dragging all over his length with the tantalizing roll of your hips. "Oh fuck." He curses, lips parting as you continue moving, covering him in your slick. He stops you when he grips your waist. He can't allow himself cumming right now when things are just starting. So, he lifts you again before he's aligning his cock to your entrance, bringing you back down. His moans and curses are drowned out by your loud ones as he makes you sit on him balls deep in one go. It knocks the air out of your lungs. Your walls flutter around him, your pussy holding his big, fat cock in a tight grip. He drags out another curse,"You feel so good."

"So full." It's all you can manage to whine. You haven't even moved yet and you're already ruined. You could've really used his fingers first.

"Yeah?" He smirks, "I'm giving you all of it."

"Mhmm." you answer in a whimper, "I'm going to take all of it."

You start moving slowly while you get used to the stretch, to the feeling of his cock, every ridge and vein dragging along your warm, velvety walls. Raising yourself up from him until only the tip is in, then sink back down, then you do it again, and again, until you're bouncing on him. The room fills with your moans, the wet sounds of skin slapping on skin every time his balls smack against your puffy lips, his cock covered on his precum and your glistening slick that's dripping down making a mess all over him. You switch to a roll of your hips to give yourself respite. His big brown eyes look up at you,"You're beautiful." He tells you before he gets cut off by his moans. You've both worked up a sweat, strands of his hair sticking to his forehead. You smile at the compliment, cheeks rosy, and push his glasses that had slid down back up the bridge of his nose. He hadn't taken them off because he wanted to see your every expression, every inch of your skin as clearly as possible. They suit him so well and he looks so sexy, you tell him, which makes his skin flush more as well in turn. He's struggling to unclasp your bra, wanting to see your tits bounce freely all over his face while you move. You giggle, helping him out. "Someone might need some tutoring." You tease but a sweet roll of his hips is quick to shut you up.

You're growing tired, thighs trembling as you resume your pace from earlier, but your climax is just at reach and you won't stop. His hips thrust up, meeting your own movements and hitting deep. Next thing he knows, you're cumming all over his cock, your pussy squeezing him tight, trying to milk him for all he's worth. Your moans are loud. He's in love with the sounds you're making. He should've known, he loves to hear your voice. Your orgasm threatens to trigger his own but he doesn't want this moment to end yet.

You gasp when he turns you both over, caging you under him with his arms at his sides holding him up keeping him from crushing you. He slides himself back in, easier this time around with your wetness and cum serving as lubrication but it's still rough, a tight squeeze. You spread your legs wider, trying your best to accommodate to him, before he lifts one up encouraging you to wrap them around his waist, the heels of your feet digging into the flesh of his asscheeks. He rolls his hips with purpose, drunk on the sound of your moans and the filthy squelch your pussy makes with each of his thrusts. He's hiding his face in the juncture between your shoulder and neck, trying to muffle his own moans against your skin but they're just falling right into your ear, making arousal zip down your spine and pool on your lower belly. Your body jostles up the bed with the force. You feel like you're sinking into the mattress, and the headboard of his twin bed is smacking loudly against the wall, most likely letting anyone on the room next door know what's going on.

You thread your fingers through the soft, damp strands of his hair, your other hand clawing down his back, making him groan, your head thrown back against the pillows. You call his name, and when he lifts his head, your lips meet his in wet, heated, open mouthed kisses. His thrusts become sloppy and he's breathing hard.

"Cheol." you try to tell him but his name just comes out in a moan. He's making you feel so good your brain is turning to mush. "Mmmph! Cheol." Your eyes roll back as you cum again, soaking his cock for a second time and clamping down around him making it hard for him to keep moving. A couple stray tears make their way down to your hairline. You're spent, eyes threatening to fall shut, your last warnings dying in your throat when he gives a few deep, punctuated thrusts and you gasp when you feel him swell inside of you before he's filling you with his hot cum.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He curses, burying himself to the hilt, stilling, and you take in the sight of him as he cums. The pure bliss irradiating from his face, eyes screwed shut while his mouth hangs open, the veins on his neck straining. You whimper at the feeling of his cock throbbing inside you as he empties his balls and fills you up with spurt after spurt of his cum.

You remain like that, chest to chest and unmoving, catching your breaths. Your fingers brush through the short strands on his nape softly, making his eyelids droop while he leaves kisses on your shoulders here and there.

After a while, he raises himself up before his arms give out and he puts all his weight on you. But before he separates entirely from you, he can't help but to teasingly roll his hips one more time, making you whine. He chuckles and you smack his arm. With a hiss from both of you he pulls out.

You gasp, a hand going to sneak down between your legs to cover yourself when you feel thick globs of cum dripping out, before you're whining his name in a reprimanding tone "Seungcheol!"

He's on his knees, leaning back and moving your hand to stare shamelessly at your stretched out pussy dripping with his cum, face hot as he bites his lip trying to hold back a smile in case you're mad. But staring up at your face, you don't look mad, just bashful under his stare.

You yelped as he leaned over and hooked his arms under your thighs pulling you down the bed so his face was right between your legs. "What are you doing?" You raised yourself on your elbows.

His hot breath fans over your spent cunt as he answers, making you shiver, "Just have to clean you up."

\\\

Seungcheol reluctantly and carefully leaves your side on the bed, disentangling himself from you to grab his glasses from his nightstand and getting up, wearing only his boxers. He looks back at you, relaxed and still sound asleep, bunched up sheets covering your naked body, messy hair on his pillows like a twisted halo. He's still smiling at the sight of you as he leaves the room to the bathroom across the hall. When he sees his reflection in the mirror above the sink, his eyebrows shoot up. He looks like he had a good fuck, which he did. There's marks peppered along his chest, bite marks, scratch marks, red tiny half moons on his shoulders and arms. Turning around slightly and tilting his head, he sees more scratches on his back. He doesn't know how he's going to hide the ones on his neck.

"Damn, bro" comes Mingyu's loud voice as he walks into the kitchen for a glass of water, looking at the state he's in and the bad case of bed/sex hair he's sporting. Seems like he just got back. "Either you were fucking or you were a victim of attempted murder."

"Shut up." He hisses, thinking of you still sleeping in his room.

"She's still here?" He asks nosily. He walks over to him to get a closer look of all the marks from you adorning his otherwise porcelain skin, but Seungcheol tries to cover himself with one arm, shoving him away with other letting out a, "Get off me." mirth in his tone yet still flustered. "Need to give her my congratulations on finally popping your cherry. We have to celebrate! Where are you going?" He asks as Seungcheol finishes drinking his water and starts to walk toward the hall.

"To put some clothes on."

"Aw, don't be shy."

"Fuck off, dude. I need to go get something." He tries to defend but ends up digging himself further.

"Now? What are you getting?"

"Just… Something."

"Why are you being so mysterious all of a sudden? I'm just asking why would you want to leave when you have-" He cuts himself off as he notices the deep blush on his friend's face and how he brushes his hand over his already messy hair nervously. He laughs, a big grin stretching on his face when he catches on "Oh, you mean something from the pharmacy two blocks down the street?"

"You're the worst."

"Apparently you are."

After Mingyu, he still has to deal with the slightly judging stare from the pharmacist he stutteringly asks help from, taking in the sight of him similarly like his friend did.

You stir in bed, coming to. Opening your eyes, you take in your surroundings, remembering what happened earlier. You shake your head with a lovesick smile, sighing as you sit up and begin looking for your clothes. You hear voices from outside the door, Seungcheol and someone else's. His roommate, you figure. Forgetting about your clothes for a moment, you walk over towards the door, pressing your ear to it curious to hear what's all the fuss about.

"-her my congratulations for popping your cherry. We have to celebrate!" Your frown morphs into utter surprise as you slap a hand to your mouth.

You were Seungcheol's first time?

The rest of the conversation is tuned out. His footsteps coming down the hall alert you, and you rush back into bed, pretending you're asleep. You feel one of his hands cup your face, thumb stroking your cheek affectionately, and the soft press of lips to your forehead.

4: Distracted

Your eyes search for him at his usual spot in the front. You arrived before he did. You step into a row, shifting until you reach the seat around the middle , at the center of the lecture hall. You pull the desk in front of you and start setting up your things.

Seungcheol arrives, the professor walking in right behind so once his eyes meet yours all you can do is wave at each other. Something catches your eye. A deep red mark peeking just over the collar of his shirt. He hadn't even bothered to cover them up. He straightens up in his seat and you think he wasn't able to catch the blush on your cheeks.

Class goes on as usual for the most part, until your focus starts to shift elsewhere. Seungcheol sits to the side, so you have a clear view of his profile. You start to map every detail: from his hair, to his thick eyebrows, big brown eyes with long eyelashes, the bridge of his nose, full lips, strong jawline. And he's turning to look at you expectantly. Wait. Shit, he's looking over. You avert your gaze quick though it's too late, he already caught you staring. Someone's calling your name. The professor. "I'm sorry, what?" You ask sheepishly.

He gives you an unimpressed look, telling of how this is not the first time you've done this and you grimace. He repeats the question for you and now you answer, eyes downcast while your face burns. You miss the grin on Seungcheol's face.

When the lecture's over, you all but run for the exit. He's hot on your heels, calling out after you. You stop, grimacing again, before you turn around, finding the cracks between the floor tiles very interesting. Your sway from side to side on the spot, arms wrapped around you not knowing what to do with yourself, and Seungcheol is enjoying how flustered this has gotten you. Between the two of you, you've always been more cheeky, which is a lot to say because you're still pretty shy.

"Have you heard that it's not nice to stare?"

"I don't know. Something tells me you liked it." you answer back.

"I did." He admits, dropping the banter before picking it up again, "I just don't want you to start getting distracted again by your friend." He almost gets too carried away nearly calling himself your boyfriend, thinking back to the first proper conversation you had with him. Seems that thinking about that day whatever way it may be is dangerous. "As your tutor, I have to disapprove." But he thinks he made a good enough safe.

"I think my tutor is putting as much work to distract me too. Might have to speak to the professor about looking for another one."

"You wouldn't." As you make it to circle past him back to the classroom, he wraps his arms around you pulling you to him, your back against his chest uncaring of being in the middle of a crowded hallway. "You're stuck with me." That makes you laugh. He smiles against your hair at the sound.

You turn in his hold, staring up at him. There's a boyish smile on his face for you. You bring up a hand to poke at his cute dimple, and then you're distracted again by the marks on his skin. Your fingers trace down and over the tender spot. "You know, people can see these."

Seungcheol shrugs. One of his hands comes up to wrap around your wrist, holding your hand in place as he kisses your palm, then he's making you wrap your arms around his neck. "I like them." He says, wearing them proudly, "You think I should've worn a turtleneck?"

"Mmm", you pretend to think it over, "I think they'd also look so good on you."

"Fine. I'll wear one then." You smile at him, and open your mouth like you're about to say something else. Sensing your hesitation, he encourages you to speak, "What is it?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to talk to you about something but I'm not sure this is a good place for it." You tell him, looking around at the other students hurrying to get to their to their next class, which you two also should be doing. He raised a brow, wondering what you want to talk about that you can't tell him right now. Was it bad? You notice him worrying his bottom lip and you speak up again to try and stop him from overthinking, "Don't worry, it's not bad. It's about what happened the other day."

"Oh." He nods sheepishly. You could get whiplash from how he can go from being this cute to being such a freak.

But wait, his mind refuses to not think more about it, what was your definition of "not bad'? What if you were going to tell him it had just been a one time thing? What if you wanted to call off your studying sessions and everything altogether? It plants a seed of doubt in him, invasive, one that sprouts and weaves all around trying to squeeze his heart and lungs making it hard to breathe.

Before he can pry further, you speak again."We're going to be late. Meet later?"

"Sure, okay." He nods, but it feels awkward when he smiles at you. Yours is pretty before you kiss his cheek and start walking away to your next class. He turns to look at you and sees you turning to wave at him one more time.

And now he has to go through the rest of the day trying not to go mad about every single possible outcome of your upcoming conversation. He hates the suspense.

\\\

Needless to say, he struggles to focus during the rest of the class day, his mind spinning all sorts of scenarios, most of them leading to a bad ending. The clock on the wall marks the end of his last lecture and he's the first to cross out the door, heading towards the front of the building where he waits only a few minutes before you're walking over to him. "Your place?" Does he really want you to dump him at his place where it would be even easier for his mind to bring it up and grief him any time? Well, practically you can't dump him, right? You're not together. Which brings no comfort. It's actually worse. And he's taking too long to give you an answer, so regardless of his feelings he finds himself nodding under your expectant gaze. Then you're grabbing one of his fidgeting hands in yours, intertwining your fingers and leading the way. It gets his thoughts to quiet down.

Mingyu's not back yet, so it's just the two of you. He moves slowly, shrugging off his bag and moving in autopilot. If this is it, he might as well make it last even if it eats him from the inside. You're merciful in making you both sit in the living room couch so he doesn't attach the memory to his room, where some of his best moments with you have happened. His hand's still in yours.

You don't make him wait any longer, "So, I heard something." You wince. Not because of what you're going to say, but because you're about to confess you eavesdropped on him and Mingyu by asking, "Was I really your first time?"

His eyes go comically wide while his face burns. This? He's been going crazy all day about this conversation happening and you're telling him this? It's far better than all he managed to come up with but it's still mortifying enough. He's going to kill Mingyu as soon as he sees him.

His lips part and close making him resemble a fish, and he looks away and at the coffee table in front of him instead while he nods.

You groan, your hand releasing his so both can come up to hide your face. Your voice comes out muffled, "Why didn't you say anything! I practically jumped you."

Now apart from embarrassed, he's also confused about why you're embarrassed. He turns back to you, gently pulling your hands away so he can see you, "What for? I happily let you, didn't I?"

You stare at him, surprised, a matching blush on your face. Then you're throwing yourself at him and burying your face in his chest instead. He hears your muffled voice against his hoodie as you start talking again "We should've done this differently. It was meant to be special for you but I had to rush everything-"

He grabs your waist and you gasp as he brings you onto his lap. Then he's cupping your face to keep you from hiding, "Hey, listen to me. You didn't do anything I didn't want you to. It was special. You know why?" You shake your head,"Because it was with you. I really liked it. Wouldn't change a thing. Understood?" Liking it doesn't even begin to cover it. He actually loved it but he was afraid that would come off as too much and scare you off.

If you weren't stunned to silence, you are now. So you do the most sure thing and you kiss him. He's quick to follow, pressing his lips sweetly against yours."Understood." You tell him when you pull away.

"Smart." He's giving you a cheeky smile, "I really wanted you to jump me."

"Yeah? Want me to jump you now?" You ask him biting your lip. It directs his attention to them, and between that, the look you're giving him and having you on top of him again it's enough to have him ready to go.

Just as he's about to answer, the front door swings open. Your heads turn and you see Mingyu stepping inside. He sees you two and stops, a hand still on the doorknob. "Oh. What's up?" Then, even though it's not a clear view with his friend craning his neck to look back at him, he notices there's that familiar, scary threat in Seungcheol's glare. He has a feeling it has nothing to do with him walking in on you.

"Would you give me a minute?" Seungcheol's eyes turn soft when he looks back at you. You nod curiously. As soon as you're off him, he stalking towards Mingyu. Instinctively, he runs for it.

"Wait! Hold on! Wai- What did I do?!"

5: Jealousy

Time keeps moving. Things between you and Seungcheol have definitely changed; you keep studying together, have lunch together whenever you can (sometimes joined by Mingyu), hang out at each other's place which often ends in a heated make out session. But he's not just the tutor your professor assigned you anymore. Hasn't been for a while ever since you slept with him. Maybe you were already falling before that. You don't know. But you're just friends, right? Friends that fucked once and would be fucking a lot more if you didn't put every ounce of self-control you could muster to use. Because what if he doesn't want anything serious? Does he even see you as someone he would like to date? He thinks you're pretty, has told you so many times. Enjoys touching you and kissing you, but what if that's the extent of it? You think back to your last relationship and feel that uncomfortable pang in your chest. But your ex was an idiot. Seungcheol's nothing like that. He can be very shy though. Maybe that's why he hasn't said anything? Should you be the one to ask him out?

You're thinking too much it must be showing on your face. You shake your head, trying to keep your spirits high, but seems like today's not your day. You hear him calling out your name before you see him. He's too close already for you to try and dodge him, so you close your eyes, take a deep breath and turn to face him and tell him to get lost.

Seungcheol thinks life is good. He's doing well at school, makes money with his tutoring job while at it, has good friends, spends time with the girl he likes any chance he gets. It could get better, Mingyu agrees, if he finally stopped chickening out from asking you out properly.

"What if she turns me down?" He worries throwing his arms out defeatedly, turning his body slightly towards Mingyu as they walk down the halls.

"Does those heart eyes she gives you mean nothing to you?" Mingyu gives him a look before continuing, "That's the worse thing she could do though, and it wouldn't be the end of the world-" So much for his pep talk, "but she won't." They turn a corner.

It's as far as the conversation goes, because he's not listening anymore. He's now looking at the person talking to you. His eyes swirl with contempt, body locking in with tension. Mingyu takes a few more strides before he realizes Seungcheol fell to a stop behind him. "What? What is it?" He looks from to Seungcheol to where his gaze is fixed on, to find you talking with your ex, "That guy again? Seriously, he needs to take a hint."

Unless you actually consider getting back with him, an annoying voice in his head taunts him. He doesn't have more time to stand there and brood because Mingyu's pulling him forward trying to listen to the conversation.

"I've already told you I'm sorry. What else do you want?"

"I'm sorry I put you through that." You say sarcastically. Seungcheol doubts if he can even catch that, "I never asked you to do it. In fact, I never asked anything from you besides respect." Seungcheol frowns. He still doesn't know what happened to put an end to things between you, wonders what did he do to make you say that.

Something you said must've been funny for him, because he gives you an amused look,"You're just acting difficult."

"And you're wasting my time. Again." You grit out and try to turn to leave.

He grabs your arm harshly, forcing you to face him again. "We're not done."

"We've been done for a long time. I don't want anything to do with you." You repeat, "Let go." You say, uneasy, wincing when he does the opposite, his grip getting tighter. "You're hurting me."

The moment Seungcheol sees your ex cross the line, he's walking over and taking hold of his arm, making him let go of you. "Don't ever touch her again." he says, rigid with anger.

He shrugs off Seungcheol's hold roughly. Something flickers in his eyes as he takes a close look at him, recognition and something more unpleasant. You know that you won't like whatever he chooses to do next, "Got yourself a good lap dog by letting him hit?" He says and dares to scoff like he has any right to reproach anything about your life, "You've become so easy."

It happens fast. Seungcheol throws a punch, your ex narrowly dodging it and connecting his own fist right over Seungcheol's lip. You shout, the chatter around you stopping before resuming more intensely when the rest of the students standing close by caught on to what's happening. A trickle of blood stains Seungcheol's skin and the front of his sweater. His glasses clatter on the floor, but when he goes for another punch it lands and your ex is going to be sporting a black eye later. You try to get in between them to stop the fight but Mingyu comes up from behind you right on time to steady you when your ex almost knocks you back. Some other students try to help to break them apart.

\\\

By the time Seungcheol sees you again, you're way less upset but still worried. Mingyu stuck with you waiting for Seungcheol as well, helping you calm down and getting you to stop crying until he had to leave for class. Thankfully, someone from faculty had stepped in and they didn't report the matter of the fight over to campus security, which would've risked getting the local police involved. Still, if something like that ever happened again on campus grounds they wouldn't be so forgiving. They also knew Seungcheol, that he was a great student and it wasn't normal for him to exhibit violent behaviour.

Sure enough, when both boys walk out of the professor's office, you see the area around your ex's right eye beginning to redden and darken, while Seungcheol's got a busted lip. You run over to him, "What happened? Are you okay?" One of your hands hovers unsurely over his mouth, and your eyes threaten to well up with tears again. Your ex walks past you silently observing you and glaring at you both. He fills you in and assures you he's not in trouble, that's he's okay. "You shouldn't have done that. You got hurt, and you could've gotten in trouble with the police or expelled!"

He frowns. "I was supposed to let him get away with doing and saying those things about you without paying for it?"

"He was obviously trying to provoke you."

"I don't care about that. He was hurting you. I won't let it slide for anyone to touch you or speak to you that way." He shoots back. He thinks back to how he was gripping your wrist and feels himself getting angry again. You sniffle, and he sees a tear that manages to escape before you hug him. He gets this deep, unpleasant feeling in his chest at the sight. He doesn't think he's ever felt something like it. He panics. "Wait, no, I'm sorry." He's definitely not sorry for punching that idiot but he scrambles for anything that'd make you feel better. "Please don't cry."

He stops briefly at his dorm before he's meeting you back at your place again later in the evening. He probably shouldn't, given that he just managed to slip free of trouble for starting a physical fight and now he's risking it by coming into your dorm. Curfew's still not in place but he knows well he's always still there when the time comes. You tell him so, but it betrays you how you brighten up at the sight of him nonetheless, just wanting him close. There's still a redness in the corner of your eyes from earlier.

None of you are thinking about homework or exams right now. You're lying in your bed, he's got his back against the headboard while you rest your head on his lap. One of his hands threads through your hair affectionately. It's just the two of you enjoying each other's company.

"You know, I think I have a great idea of how my lip could heal faster." He starts to say. You turn slightly to look up at him with a questioning look. "Kiss is better?" And he juts his lip out, mustering the most disarming pout he can. He's so cute you could start punching the air. And it really works, because you're about to fall right into his trap.

You sit up, resting a hand on his thigh for support, and can't help but giggle at how excited he looks that you're actually going to do it. You lean in to softly press your lips against his own over the small gash. Just a feathery brush being careful not to hurt him and then you're trying to pull back. But he's bringing up a hand to cup the back of your neck and chasing your lips again with more intention. "Cheol- Wait I don't- I don't want to hurt you."

"You're not hurting me." He mumbles, eyes barely open, not letting the space between you widen more than a breath, "Your kiss would never hurt me. It already feels better."

"It's going to start bleeding again." You say more seriously and pull away.

"I'm not going to be able to kiss you now because of the stupid cut?" He's pouting again, but he really looks upset now. You laugh.

"You should've known better than getting into a fight." You take the opportunity to lightly scold him again. He sulks even more, looking away. You're not going to agree regarding the topic. It's not easy for you either, you think. You love kissing his luscious lips and it doesn't help that he's really good at it. Your own self control is starting to fray until it comes undone.

"But I can make you feel better some other way." You offer, biting your lip. He's still being petty and not looking over. So you decide to go ahead.

You move back to your previous position. When it was all but innocent earlier, now you nuzzle your face right over him, making his dick jump in his pants. You hear a deep intake of air from above you and smile to yourself. His hand goes back to your hair when you do it again, more to ground himself than anything. Your name leaves his lips, voice unsteady. You raise yourself up only so you can slide his pants down, then you're lowering yourself again to leave kisses and suck teasingly over where's he's already straining in his boxers, helping him get completely there by bringing a hand to stroke him over the fabric. A moan slips from his lips, and you look up at his face through your lashes. There's already a hazy look in his eyes, his breathing hard, splotches of red blooming on his face down to his neck. You're faring no better, and you feel it in the ache between your legs. His eyes follow your every move as you're back up, brushing your thumb over his lower lip to free it from where he'd caught it between his teeth to stop more sounds from tumbling out. You tut, "You're going to hurt yourself."

"Sorry, it's just- You…" he trails off, not really knowing what he was going for in the first place, mind shutting off with nothing but you in it.

"Has anyone given you a blowjob before?" You ask straightforwardly. His face turns even more red as he shakes his head. It's not of importance if there was someone before, but you still get a thrill hearing you're his first. You pull the elastic of his boxers and let it snap lightly against his skin again before you go to take them off.

"You don't- You don't have to." He barely has the restraint to say.

"I know I don't. I want to. " He has no idea how much you've wanted it. "I want to suck you off. Make you feel really good. Can I?" You ask to make sure he's okay with this.

He gulps. "Yes. Please." He'll let you do anything you asked.

"Good." You smile, "But no biting these or I stop." you place your index finger to his lips. "Let me hear you."

You get rid of what's left of his clothes and start leaving a path of kisses from his chest down to his tummy, following his happy trail until you're right over him. Puckering your lips, you let the spit that's been gathering in your mouth drip over his cock. You close your hand around him as best as you can, giving it a few wet jerks. The tips of your fingers don't touch. He's fully hard already, leaking with precum. The first press of your lips makes him moan as you leave a few kisses. You dart out your tongue and flatten it to lick the underside from base to tip, feeling the thick vein there before you switch to kitten lick his tip where he's more sensitive. You pay attention to it, his salty taste hitting your tongue, loving how he responds and instinctively bucks his hips up, starting to get restless. Finally, you close your lips around him and slowly sink down, taking everything you can. When you swallow around him he curses, hands bunching the sheets so tight his knuckles turn white. His head hits the headboard with a soft thud when he screws his eyes shut and throws it back, letting out the prettiest of moans without a care in the world. You moan and feel your underwear starting to get uncomfortably wet. You swirl your tongue around him, he's hot and heavy against it, before you come up to breath, a string of your saliva connecting from his cock to your lips.

You sink back down, paying some attention to his balls, licking and sucking, his whole body jolting involuntarily. You sooth with both your hands smoothing up and down his thighs sweetly and one of his hands returns to the top of your head, brushing your hair softly and holding it back for you. You take his cock back in your mouth, quickly finding your rhythm now bobbing your head up and down, working your tongue around him. His breathing becomes more shallow and you can feel him twitch in your mouth. You redouble your efforts, your jaw starting to feel numb but you focus on him, on keeping him making those pretty sounds for as long as you can. He looks down at you with half lidded eyelids, beads of sweat building over his temple, his chest glistening. Stars swim around his eyesight threatening to burst at any moment for how you're making him feel and more seeing how you're also relishing in it. A couple tears have streaked down your cheeks, but the sight of them like this don't upset him like when you were crying earlier. A few loose strands of your hair stick to your forehead, and your chin is shiny with your spit with the mess you've made all over his cock down to his balls. It's everything about you like this that brings him dangerously to the edge with barely no warning, "Fuck, I'm gonna- I'm gonna-"

You only moan in response, pulling back slightly but never taking him out of your mouth and he can only just give in to the wave of pleasure washing over him when he cums. Strings of hot, thick, white cum hit your tongue and you swallow every drop. He thrusts into your mouth a couple of times, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag, before he stills and slumps into the bed. You release him from your mouth with a pop, going to give a few teasing licks as he starts to grow softer. He hisses, sensitive now and you stop, switching to leave kisses on his thighs, going up to his tummy and chest that rises and falls fast as he tries to catch his breath from the intensity of his high. When you're face to face, he gives you a tired smile, eyes swirling with affection. You smile at him and kiss the corner of his lips.

Again, he pulls you into him so you're kissing him properly and you gasp in his mouth. He can taste himself in you, before you're pulling away to chide him one more time. It's clear he doesn't care though as he just nods and looks at you like you're the most precious thing in his life. He really wants to ask you out. Maybe he should do it another time when he's not entirely naked in front of you, sticky and sweaty after he just came in your mouth to save himself from further embarrassment if you say no. He also thinks you might hate him for asking while you're also a total mess but he adores how messy you get for him. Before he can overthink it longer and this sudden courage wears out, he's letting the words tumble out of his mouth, "Go out with me? On a date?"

Your eyes widen and go rounder with surprise, and he braces himself. But then you're smiling bashfully, trying to smooth down your hair staring at his lips, before you meet his big, bright, warm brown eyes. "You want to date me?"

"Yes." He says firmly, nodding for emphasis.

"I thought you'd never ask. Yes, I want to go out on a date with you."

He falls asleep shortly after having to drag himself under your bed when someone knocks on your front door (He pulled his boxers back on and kicked the rest of his clothes under it before ducking and hiding himself. You can't help yourself and give him a little slap on his perfectly round ass under the disguise of hurrying him and have to hold back your laughter when he jolts with a yelp and throws you a look before getting out of sight. It's not much of an easy task given that the space under your bed is narrow and he's a big guy so it's a very uncomfortable fit. Your roommate who got back some time before curfew started beats you to the door and opens it, letting the student that makes the rounds come in. She greets you kindly, making small talk while walking around the place and you open the doors to your rooms. Soon, she's back out without a single clue of Seungcheol being there.). You're sitting on your desk with his tee shirt on typing away on your laptop finishing a paper for one of your classes, but the sight of him like that, so relaxed, soft yet sinful has you stealing glances at him more often than not. He's splayed on his back on your bed taking most of the space, one arm folded under his head, legs spread, one of them slightly bent. wearing only his boxers while he snoozes softly, serene look in his face as his chest rises and falls slowly. He'd fallen asleep with his glasses on but you took them off to make him comfortable. You smile, your eyes twinkling brightly thinking about moments ago. Your heart flutters; you can't wait for your -

6: Date

Seungcheol checks his appearance on the full body mirror in his room for the nth time. He's nervous but excitement thrums steadily in his veins, glowing on his face. Mingyu walked into the room a few minutes ago to tease him as he finishes getting ready. Seungcheol gets he means well, and it's actually helping him relax.

"Don't want to rush you or anything but you're going to be late if you keep checking yourself out." Mingyu tells him, making him glance at the time. He hurries one last look, fixing his already styled hair.

"Do you think she'll like it though?" He meets his eyes in the mirror's reflection.

"She told you she'd like it, right? She'll love it." Then he adds, "Though I'm not sure if she'll choose it best after she's seen what's underneath."

"Do you really have to say those things?"

"You're the same or even worse than me." Silence. No argument, and Mingyu smiles triumphantly.

You'd insisted to meet there when he told you he'd pick you up. He invited you to the winter festival going on on the town's square. He gets there on time, before sundown, and looks around for you amongst the throng of people already there.

"Cheol?" He hears your voice calling for him. You're close. He turns towards it and he sees you standing up from a bench, smiling and waving at him. He walks over.

"Hi." He breaths out, nerves creeping back in.

"Hi." you stand on tip toe and kiss his cheek. It's cold, so the color on his cheeks could be because of that. You take in his appearance. "You're wearing a turtleneck." And your smile growing bigger makes your eyes shine brighter.

"I told you I would. So, what do you think?"

"I love it." You state, and he looks down in an attempt to hide his bashful smile from you. That four little word keeps going in circles in his mind. "What's that?" you point curiously at a small box in his hand.

"It's a gift. For you. I- I actually bought you something else but I didn't want you to have to carry it around all night." He rambles, beginning to undo his hairstyle by brushing his hand through the soft strands. He's doing so well. If only he could shut up.

"Great minds think alike." you smile brightly at him, and that's when he notices the bag you're holding behind your back. "I got something for you too."

You sit down, and hand him his gift. He takes out the contents from the bag: there's a new lego set, a book and a small box that holds a thin gold chain. You watch, excited for his reactions. When he looks up at you, there's a sparkle in his eyes. You're incredible. "I love them, thank you. You didn't have to do all of this."

"Shut up. Then why did you bring me something?"

"Because- Because I wanted to."

"Well, there you have it. I wanted to too." You say firmly.

He laughs, shaking his head before urging, "Open yours."

You open the small box to find a dainty gold bracelet inside. You gasp, "It's beautiful." He smiles, pleased that you liked it and helps you put it on. "You didn't need to get me anything else."

Now it's his turn to tell you to shut up. "We should find a good spot to watch when they turn on the lights." You nod, and grab his hand when he offers it.

There's lots to do, but first you watch as the square fills color with Christmas lights. A giant Christmas tree, with a shining star on the top, and covered in ornaments with enough space in it left for the people to decorate it too. Stands of food vendors to cater visitors with something warm - except that you actually go for an ice cream stand first and Seungcheol thinks you're insane. "Some people crave ice cream when it's cold." is what you tell him. -, live music, attractions and rides for the kids - you still drag him onto the carousel-, an ice rink, souvenir stands, a photo booth.

You grab your photo strips, and smile staring at them.You're making silly faces on the first one, he'd hugged you from the back on the second one and you're not even looking at the camera, you slightly turned towards him while he looks at you, but there's big smiles on your faces that made your eyes crinkle. The third one you're poking his cheeks where his dimples show, and the last one he meant to kiss your cheek but you turn at the last moment and he kissed your lips instead. It caught how his brows lifted in surprise while you smile into the kiss.

Seungcheol's cheeks hurt from how much he's smiling. The date has gone great, better than he'd imagined. He knows that it's mostly because you're the one he's with. Sure, he's getting cold as fuck the later it gets but it doesn't matter when he's holding you, your hands.

"Oh! I'll get us some more hot chocolate." It's probably your third cup, but you're off before he can get it for you anyway.

He stays right where you left him by the great water fountain, staring after you and already thinking of your next date. That's why he doesn't notice when a couple of chuckling kids come barreling through chasing each other, accidentally knocking him over. He's brought back from his daydreaming, caught off guard. The back of his legs hit the edge, hands shooting from where they were in his coat pockets trying to regain his balance in vain. He falls backwards into the freezing water.

"Oh my God, Seungcheol! Are you okay?" And you're back. You forget the two cups in your hands, leaving them on the edge and going to help him out. His teeth are chattering when he answers yes, clothes and hair soaked and dripping all over where he now stands. "What happened?" He explains still befuddled himself shivering through all the recount. He can also tell you're doing your best not to laugh at him because seriously, how ridiculous can his luck be, but you also feel bad and are worried he might get sick. "We should call it a night."

\\\

Seungcheol comes out of the shower, and when he's done toweling his damp hair, he beelines for his bed, burying under the sheets right next to where you're sitting. You laugh, poking his side. "What is it?" He just groans. You try to yank the sheets off him so you can see him but he doesn't relent. When he turns to avoid you, you end up toppling over him. You squeal, more laughter bubbling up. Finally, you wrench the sheets from him, revealing his face, eyes screw shut as he complains. "C'mon, talk to me."

"Fuck! I'm so sorry. Everything was going so well and I had to screw it all up taking a dive in the fountain." It's really hard not to laugh but you'd make it worse if you do, so you force it down.

"Hey, you didn't ruin everything. I had a really good time, enjoyed every second of it."

"It's just- I really like you and I don't want to mess things up." He confesses, opening his eyes and looking straight up at you. His hair's a mess from rolling all over the bed, and he looks really upset about it, his words sincere.

"I really like you too." You say, and his sulky expression splinters, a tentative smile shining through.

"You do?"

"Mmhm. I like you this much." And you open your arms as wide as you can. Seungcheol really laughs this time. That seems to do it. He sits up and wraps his arms around you. You hug him back just as tight. "Now can we cuddle?"

Later before you inevitably have to leave, he hands you your other present. When you tear off the wrap paper from it, you find a journal and a set of pens. Good ones. He rambles on about the details, what type they are, how the ink dries fast so you don't have to worry about smudges on your notes. And maybe you shut him up with a kiss and stay a little longer.

"I still can't believe they managed to drop you into the fountain."

"I was distracted!" By you. "You're laughing. I could've been seriously hurt! I could've drowned!"

"That's a little too far fetched."

"There's a bruise on my ass."

"We can't have that." And you sound really worried this time.

7: PDA

Finals are coming up, and with it the end of the semester and the beginning of the holidays. That's why Mingyu, Seungcheol and you find yourselves in the library late one night getting in some extra studying. It's more like Seungcheol's helping Mingyu at this point. There's a topic he's struggling with, and Seungcheol has tried to explain it several times already in different ways. He's starting to lose his patience but you know he won't drop it until he gets it. You watch amused as his eyes go a little wider the more it goes on, Mingyu looking like there's not a single thought getting through his head. You let out a quiet laugh while you review your notes again.

"I get it now. Can we please take a break?" Mingyu says after a while. He's saying he finally grasped it, but something tells you he's lying so he can get over it and finish up. Seungcheol and you share a look. He's thinking the same thing. "You heard about the party this weekend?"

"What party?" You ask.

"A friend of Mingyu's throwing a huge end of the semester party. It's kinda like a Christmas thing too. Basically he invited everyone." Seungcheol tells you.

Instead of wondering where this guy's planning to fit the whole campus in a way that's safe and how can he afford it, you say, "We still have finals left. Don't you think he's a little ahead?"

"We finished classes already. Can't you let him take a win?" He nudges you playfully."I'm going. We should all go."

After a while, Mingyu takes his leave. You ask Seungcheol if he thinks he's going to be okay. He tells you he'll be alright and that whatever he doesn't know he has confidence to make up for it. You aren't sure how can you measure confidence on a written evaluation but you don't doubt he's right. "You want to go to that party?" He asks you.

"Only if you want to." you say, "Mingyu wants us to go." Seungcheol nods. You're going then. "Let's review this again so we can go."

Now, he groans, resting his head on the table with his arms stretched in front of him defeatedly. He whines out, "Again? We've been here for hours. You've read those a hundred times already."

"No, I haven't." You have, "Just once and we'll go." And as if hearing you, the bright overhead lights go off, only leaving the warm lights from the lamps on each occupied desk. There's only a few other students scattered around since it's nearing closing time. He begrudgingly takes the stack of flashcards you hand him to test you first.

Like he said, you do great, but he knows that you always worry about not doing well during the actual test so he goes along with it as long as it helps you. He fuels you on and smiles at you. "I told you."

You smile back, preening under his praise. "Your turn." you gesture for his flashcards.

"We don't need to." But you're stubborn and insist. "Fine. But I get a kiss for every answer right." He bargains.

You raise your brow at him knowingly. You know better than that but still you find yourself agreeing. "Okay. Let's see how you do."

Hint: He gets every answer right, happily claiming his reward each time. The first kiss is a peck, ends as quickly as it began. You don't think much of it, not even when his gaze stays fixed on the movement of your lips as you go on to read the next card. Maybe he actually intends to behave this time. But as you continue, his kisses linger, each one lasting more than the other, then he's pulling back leaving you breathless and chasing after his lips. There's still a few cards left in your hand when he decides he's had enough, insatiable with your lips still moving against his own after his latest answer. He grabs your waist, lifting you over the armrests of your chair onto his lap. The cards slip from your hands and spill on the floor. You gasp his name against his lips, but he just kisses you again, his hands still on your waist making you rock against him. "Seungcheol, we're in the library." you whisper. It sounds loud in the quiet space, no doubt as it also does the smack of your lips together, and as his kisses travel lower to your jaw, your neck, and back up so he can nip at your ear playfully.

"I want to kiss you." It's like he's been bewitched by them. His only thoughts being about kissing your already swollen, shiny lips. Touching you and hold you closer until there's no space left.

"You're doing more than that." You call out but you don't do anything to stop him.

The couple of students that were closer to your usual table had left a few minutes a go. The only one in your field of vision is at a table way at the front, partially hidden from view by a tall set of bookshelves. The librarian's shift's been long over and the student in charge at the desk is nodding off with her headphones on.

You lose yourselves in each other with each grind of your hips, kisses only broken for your need to breathe. You don't care that it's uncomfortable, with the armrests of the chair digging into your thighs. You're more worried about how damp your underwear's getting, molding to your puffy lips and leaving a damp spot on Seungcheol's dress pants when it soaks through. He had a presentation for his last class just before you met here, so he'd been more particular with his outfit today. You, for one, had appreciated it and you're sure more than one person other than you had checked out his ass in those pants. You'd be jealous if you had to, but you're the one sitting on top of him now, undoing the first buttons of his shirt so you can kiss, lick, and mark his skin. You're lying you were still jealous only thinking about someone else staring but you don't blame them.

Seungcheol's hands move from your waist to the back of your thighs, up until they're fondling your asscheeks. He's still aiding your movements as he spreads you for him when one of his hands gets dangerously close to where you're aching for him. Then it's slipping under your panties, feeling the wetness pooling there. He bites his lip, "You're so wet." Spreading your puffy lips with two of his thick fingers, collecting your slick. He sinks his middle one into your heat and kisses you again to swallow any sounds that may threaten to fall from your lips. Your walls pulse, pussy sucking his finger in every time he pulls it back just to thrust it back in. His palm rubs deliciously against your clit, making more of your slick drip out all over his finger down his hand. Then you're taking another. Fuck, he wishes it was his cock stretching your little pussy instead of his fingers.

And he realizes he said his wish aloud. You only get wetter when he voices his fantasies, the sticky sound of his fingers going in and out of you loud in his ears. Your jaw goes slack, lips parting prettily in a silent moan as his fingers hit a sweet spot. He reaches deeper than you ever could, but he's right. His cock would feel so much better. Without any other thought, you grab his wrist to stop him. He pulls his hand away and from under your skirt, watches as you bring it to your mouth and suck his digits. He's going to bust in his pants. He's licking his own fingers and hand clean when you're done and start unbuttoning his pants. It's tight, difficult to move cramped together in the uncomfortable chair, but you manage to pull them down along with underwear low enough to free him. He lets out a loud gasp when you wrap one manicured hand around his cock and start moving it up and down his shaft, your underwear pushed to the side and digging onto your skin as you guide him to your entrance. "We have to be quiet." you whisper into his lips, voice unsteady. You don't want to get banned from the library though that's not even remotely close to the worse thing that could happen if you get caught. He nods his head impatiently, breaths coming quick.

Your lips barely leave his the whole time. Slowly, the tip goes in and he forces himself to keep still even when you take your time to keep moving lower, your hand, still working around him. He tries not to think too hard about the lewd image below your skirt. A shaky sigh leaves him when you sit fully on him. Your nails dig into his shoulders crumpling the fabric of his shirt. You stay like that for a moment, getting used to the feeling of him inside of you again before you start rolling your hips lazily. His own thrusts are shallow, his cock barely leaving your pussy to plunge back in deep. It's the best you can do to avoid alerting anybody of what's going on, while you also refuse to leave even a sliver of space between you, pressed together stealing each other's breath, kissing, touching and moving in sync.

In the dim light, Seungcheol takes everything in; the expanse of your chest visible over the neckline of your shirt glistening. He can feel beads of sweat building on his own skin, seeping onto the back of his shirt. He could stare up at you like this forever, but neither of you are going to last any longer. He can feel it in the way your thighs start trembling, and when your release hits you and you're creaming all over him, he's following right after you. Your lips meet one last time, eyes screwed shut. It's more to muffle any sound than a proper kiss, a little clumsy, before you have to pull away to be able catch your breaths.

You rest your forehead against his, wrapping your arms around his neck, an airy laugh sneaking into your little bubble, "We have to stop doing this."

And he smiles. You can try. He's brings his hands up from your thighs to your hair, feeling the damp strands around your face trying to fix them."You look so fucked out."

You raise a brow, eyes filled with mirth. "Back at you." And you start doing the same for him, fixing his glasses, his hair, buttoning up his shirt. But there's no hiding the afterglow. There's a blush on his face, his lips are swollen from all the kissing. He kisses your palm when your hand lingers on his cheek. It makes your heart skip a beat.

He pulls out, helping you fix your underwear right before you can feel his cum start to drip out of you. You then have to swat his hand away when he starts brushing his fingers over the ruined fabric, the way he bites his lip doing nothing to hide his smile. He's been spoiled beyond repair.

You gather your things, and when you're ready, he's holding your hand to head out. He has to walk closely behind you to hide the ruined front of his pants because even though you were so good to take his cum, there was no saving them from the mess you'd both made. You wish goodnight to the student working the desk, which they return with a tired smile. What you never did notice was the poor boy a few tables to the right. A first year. He'd accidentally dozed off with his head over his folded arms after stressing out over his first university finals for hours. But when he'd come to, he's caught wind of what was happening between the couple in the room. He'd looked away, flustered, burying his face back into his books, shaking his head.

Always the quiet ones, or so they say.

8 : Broken

"Hi."

"Hi." Seungcheol smiles into the kiss you give him in greeting when he opens the door of his dorm.

"You have no idea how sexy you look right now." You say, eyeing his outfit, hands on his sides.

He raises a brow but there's still an unmistakable blush on his cheeks at the compliment, "I'm wearing the ugliest ugly sweater you were able to get your hands on." You're actually matching too, your idea. He won't say but he loves that fact, his possessive side being unintentionally nurtured. Were you thinking the same when you suggested it? The thought drives him even more crazy.

You laugh, "That makes it even sexier."

This time he kisses you. You return it happily, and that encourages him to push you against the nearest wall, hiking up one of your legs around his waist. You press your hands softly to his chest and he gets the hint, pulling back, "Seungcheol, we have to make it to the party."

He sounds as breathless as you when he replies, "Do we really have to?" and it's real hard to resist him when he keeps staring at your lips. He looks right into your eyes before he utters his next words, "I'd rather stay here with you." If you're being honest, you too. But you already told Mingyu you'd go. "Mingyu won't care. He's seeing someone, they'll be there too." It's like he's read your mind and knows he's close to convincing you.

"We should spend time with our friends, otherwise they'd think I'm trying to keep you all to myself."

"What if I want you to?" He wouldn't mind. "We could eat and drink these ourselves." He says, eyeing to the side at the chocolates and cheap bottle of wine you brought along refusing to show up empty handed.

You stare at him and open your mouth like you're about to say something. Nothing but a breath comes out and the shit eating grin he's giving you tells you he's enjoying having left you at a loss for words. "I'm being serious." Is what you say when you regain your voice.

"So am I."

"They'll hate me."

"No they won't. That's ridiculous."

"Seungcheol!"

Unfortunately, despite all his efforts, you end up going. And you're surprised to find it's not some nearly unbearably loud house party with students dancing and drunk everywhere. You arrive at a mansion-like house. There's beautiful Christmas decorations in the garden,a group of people chattering lightly while they have a drink outside in the porch. Inside, more people are sitting down around a big living room, conversation and laughter filling the air. There's a big Christmas tree on the far corner, presents for the Secret Santa game under and around it. On the patio, there's tables set for when it's time for dinner. You see familiar faces and you greet them, others you're not so glad to see.

You walk into the kitchen, where a few other people are lingering around. There you find Mingyu. He's with his date, both talking to who he introduces to you as the host of the party. "You made it!" He beams. When he introduces you two as his favorite couple, you almost die on the spot, cheeks burning. But when Seungcheol's hand in yours only gives you a gentle squeeze and you look over at him, you allow yourself to smile when you see that he doesn't seem to mind. And he doesn't at all. His cheeks could start hurting by how wide he's smiling.

You elbow Mingyu and pull him to the side while Seungcheol and his friend talk. He protests but you shut him up. "Why did you say that?"

"What?" He asks confused, seeing as you fidget and pull at your sleeves until they cover half your hands.

"Seungcheol and I aren't a couple." you hiss back.

"You're wearing matching sweaters." He deadpans. "Labels. But trust me, that'll change soon. He's head over heels for you. You two can't be more obvious."And he sees you smile.

A projector's set and the group in the living room watch a movie. You sit on a bean bag and Seungcheol grabs a cushion to sit on the floor in front of you. One of his hands brushes up and down one your legs where they rest at either side of him absentmindedly. He's seemingly paying attention to the movie, until at one point he's not. Resting his head on your thigh he can't stop himself from nipping your soft flesh playfully, making you yelp. A few people around give you a look,"Sorry, that-really startled me." It's your lame excuse. It's not like there's any jumpscares. Seungcheol snorts and you're very tempted to whack the back of his head. He behaves for the rest of the movie though, almost falling asleep with his head cushioned by your thigh. You eat, and after, you gather once again in the living room to exchange gifts before the group scatters to do different things. You're doing karaoke now, someone giving their own rendition of a Christmas song classic while the rest hype them up as they half nail it until their voice breaks and cracks. You have a turn too, and though he puts up a fight at first, Mingyu manages to drag Seungcheol to the center to sing as well. The few drinks he's had helped him let loose.

He plops down beside you after his performance. Someone else steps up and starts looking for a song. You laugh as he buries his face into your neck. "Did you like it?" He murmurs, his hot breath smelling faintly of alcohol tickles you.

You hum affirmatively, "Loved it." You can't see it but you feel him smile. He's practically clinging to you, leaving kisses on your neck. "Cheol, there's people around." You glance around the room, while the song starts. They're doing pretty good.

"Don't care."

"I do. And you're drunk."

"Am not." He is. He can handle it well, but he's buzzed. And getting a little too handsy. There's a high note and the person singing butchers it. "We've been here for enough time already so we can leave."

"Sure. We'll leave soon." But first you'll get him to sober up a little. "Give me a moment. I'll be right back."

He only wraps his hands around you tighter. "Where are you going?"

"I'm just going to get you some water. Wait here." and reluctantly, he lets go.

You try to make your way around to the kitchen in the big house, only entering one wrong room in the process. Meanwhile, Seungcheol stands up and walks out. The living room was beginning to get stuffy. His skin feels hot, face slightly red, and his sweater itches. He welcomes the cold air outside, taking a seat on an outdoor couch nearby. He doesn't notice when someone slips out after him, leaned back with his eyes closed, but when they sit in top of him, he's smiling when they lean in to kiss him. He kisses back.

You frown when you head back to the living room and Seungcheol's nowhere to be seen. You start to walk back out and come across Mingyu, almost stumbling into him and knocking over the drink in his hand. "Shit, sorry. Have you seen Cheol?"

He shakes his head and offers to help you look for him. Worried he might have sneaked outside while it's cold, you start there. You're quick to find him but you stop right under the threshold, the sliding door having been left open. A chill gust of wind hits your face. It's nothing compared to the scene unfolding right before your eyes that has you stumbling back like you've been slapped on the face.

What he sees when he opens his eyes doesn't make sense. It's not you in front of him, but your roommate. It's like someone drops a bucket of ice cold water over him when he hears a noise, like someone taking a sharp breath, and he looks over to find you and Mingyu standing by the door. He's fully sober now. Mingyu looks the most confused he's ever been. But you. There's a look in your eyes. Something more than disappointment, betrayal, while silent tears roll down your face. You snap out of it, and the last he sees is how you're face crumples up with so much hurt before you spin around in a hurry to leave. Mingyu calls your name, starting after you but he doesn't know what to do.

No.

"Oops. Guess she saw that." Your roommate says faking innocence. But when she turns back to him, but she's smiling, uncaring. All her attention is on him, while he's still struggling to grasp what's happened. "I always wondered what she saw in such a dork like you but now I get it. Bet you really know how to use this too." When she tries to touch him, he grips her wrist and pushes her hand away.

"Don't you ever come closer to me again." He spits out furiously pushing her off him, with nothing but aversion in his eyes.

She scoffs indignantly, straightening up, "I wouldn't bother going after her. Do you think she'd want anything to do with you now?" He's just about to head back inside when she speaks again, making him stop "Do you know what happened with her last boyfriend?" He waits for her to finish off. "He cheated on her."

You tune out Mingyu's calls, otherwise almost drowned under the voices from where karaoke's still going on, about to slip out of the house when you knock onto someone walking in. The water bottle you were still holding drops to the ground. You let out a hurried apology, bringing a trembling hand to hide your tear streaked face. You didn't even notice when you'd started crying.

"Your new boy already let you down?" And the owner of the voice is none other than your ex. Great. He's still blocking the front door."It's bad, isn't it?" Taking a guess by the state you're in. "Guess he just needed someone to stroke his ego. You did too much of a good job, and now he's moved on to the next one."

"Is that what happened with you?" You bite back, shoving him out of the way and stepping outside. Usually you're good ignoring his comments, but right now when everything hurts and you're already down his words land like a final blow. Your mind can't help but break down and spin his words around until you start to believe he might actually be right about it. You'd just happened to be there, he saw you were interested and you turned into option number one. A good time, until you weren't even worth that anymore. He didn't see what you saw in him. Maybe you weren't made to have more, mean something to someone, be important in their lives, in his life. You were so naïve, giving so much of yourself for someone to only take and not match. Why did you always took it too far?

Mingyu sees Seungcheol hurrying over not a moment later, "Where is she?" He looks around desperately, urgency in his voice. He's as shaken as he saw you earlier. Everything's gone wrong, like the ground is crumbling under his feet; but life keeps moving on around him, the music, the laughs, the animated conversation. It's driving him insane. He shouldn't have come, he was so close to convincing you to stay back. His mind keeps repeating that over and over.

"She left. Wait- You can't go after her right now. Not like this." Mingyu has to struggle to hold him back. He's about to ask what the fuck does he mean when he catches his reflection on the round mirror above a small table near the front door. He doesn't look any better than he feels. He wipes the red lipstick off harshly and thinks he's going to be sick, the warm and fuzzy feeling from the alcohol before now making his stomach churn dangerously.

It must show on his face, because Mingyu makes him lean on him and begins hauling him to the nearest bathroom. "I have to tell her it's not what it looked like." He's aware of how that sounds. Like a poor excuse. He should've known something was off. You wouldn't have been all over him while he'd been drinking. Your weight on his, your perfume, your lips, all that he knew so well. And now he was risking missing them for good.

9: Now

Your phone had been ringing to the point of exhaust. You put it on silent, throwing it away letting yourself be swallowed by your sheets. Last night when you got to your dorm, you'd sent an email to the student affairs' office requesting for a dorm change. Either you got that, or you'd put a complain on your roommate and get her out. You don't think she'd be opposed to leave, not after you'd run into her this morning. It was more out of impulse than anything, but you'd raised your hand and slapped her across the face so hard she'd only gaped at you, speechless, not daring to hit back. You didn't regret it. She deserved it. The dorm has been silent since she'd walked out the door in the minutes that followed. That is until you hear a knock on the door and someone calling your name. You won't open it. Hopefully he'd leave. But he doesn't. You hesitate near the door whether to tell him to go away or not.

"Can we please talk?" Seungcheol's voice sounds raspy from lack of use or like he'd been crying. If you answered the door, you'll see he mirrors you by how wrecked he really is. His hairs disheveled from how many times he's pulled and stressed his hands through it. He got no sleep last night, dark circles under his eyes.

Silence. He starts to doubt if you're really there, but he'd asked at the desk before coming upstairs and they said they hadn't seen you leave."If you don't want to you can just listen."

"I don't want things to end like this. Fuck, they haven't even started." he lets out a humorless laugh and sniffles when a fresh wave of tears comes, "I'm so sorry, I never meant to hurt you. Last night it was all her. She wanted to pull us apart and I fell for it. I… I know what you saw, that I kissed her too. I never would've done that if I hadn't thought it was you. Never. When I saw it wasn't you I'd kissed I literally got sick and I've been beating myself up all night for how stupid I was. Please believe me." He rests his forehead against the door. "You're the only one I want. I've liked you for so long, you have no idea how much. You spending time with me has made me feel like the luckiest guy ever. I'd never throw that away fooling around." A sigh, "Still, I managed to mess it up."

There's silence for a while. You're thinking he's gone when you're startled by the sound of his voice again, broken."I understand if you need space- Or if you already made up your mind and you can't forgive me… Please tell me, curse me out, whatever you need to do, and I won't bother you ever again."

Nothing breaks the dreadful silence that follows. He really left now. Your own tears haven't stopped flowing and you keep crying leaning against the door.

Later, you force yourself up off the floor and grab your phone. There's countless missed calls and unopened texts from him since last night, a bunch from Mingyu. The ones from Seungcheol stopped coming not too long ago, probably because he was on his way over.

You open the the thread of Mingyu's messages first,

M: Pardon my unfeminist language, but your roommate's a bitch. If I was a girl, I'd slap the shit out of her.

M: It was her! It's all her scheming! You know Seungcheol wouldn't hurt you, he only has eyes for you.

M: You're my friend too and I hate that you're hurting. Please at least let me know you got home okay.

M: Please hear him out. I can't get him to calm down it's bad.

M: The guy's in love with you you know that. He's so pathetic without you.

M: Don't let that girl get away with this.

There's a voicemail too from moments after you ran out of the party. His voice comes rushed at first, knowing he only has a couple minutes and a lot he wants to get in.

"Hey! Please let me know when you get back to your place so I know you're okay. I mean I know you're not- fuck! I saw it too but I know Seungcheol, you know him and he's not like that. He's buzzed even I could get away with kissing him right now." There's a silence. Like he realized that last bit wasn't exactly helpful. You can picture his face of disgust from even saying it. "What I'm trying to say is that that girl took advantage of him. This is exactly what she wanted. Don't rush to conclusions, he's serious about you. I know you two are going to be oka-" he gets caught off.

Now that you read his messages you hope he gets you're okay, all things considered. You only reply to one message directly:

M: Pardon my unfeminist language, but your roommate's a bitch. If I was a girl, I'd slap the shit out of her.

You: I did.

You get a reply almost instantly.

M: That's my girl. I'm so proud of you.

A tiny smile peeks through your tears. He knows not to push you further. All he wanted was to know you were okay. Or alive, at least.

Then you move on to Seungcheol's messages from last night.

Cheol: We need to talk.

Cheol: Answer the phone, please.

Cheol: please pick up

Cheol: I'm so sorry. I don't know why she kissed me. I didn't want her to.

Cheol: It wasn't you. I only want you.

Cheol: You know that, right?

Cheol: Are you back at your dorm? Did you get there alright?

Cheol: I'm coming over.

Cheol: I'm at the lobby they won't let me up. I don't have much time before they kick me out.

Cheol: Let's talk it out please. I know I hurt you and I hate myself for it but we can get past this.

Cheol: Are you asleep?

Cheol: They told me I have to leave. I'll come back tomorrow so we can talk?

Cheol: Please say something. anything.

Cheol: I'm sorry.

He also left a voicemail after none of his calls went through.

"Don't think for even a second that I can like another girl that isn't you. Please, talk to me? Let me know you're safe at least. Fuck, we shouldn't have gone to that stupid party. I would've rather stay back with you. I don't care about anyone else. I love you, alright? Before you even noticed me, it was just you. Then you gave me a chance and I got to know you better. So sweet, smart, kind, funny, irresistible like I knew you'd be. You drive me crazy it was impossible not to fall for you. I don't want this to be it. I want to be with you."

You can tell he'd been crying then too just like you are now. His voice shaky and wet, catching in some parts. It was so raw and honest. He was baring his heart for you. You doubt he could be faking any of it.

You know he isn't.

But the image of him kissing someone else had hurt so much. Your brain kept trying to protect you telling you to run away from the pain before it could cut you open further, that the story was repeating itself. But your heart is telling you to go back to him. You can't let one relationship gone wrong for reasons beyond you sabotage you. Are you going to allow someone else and their malicious intentions to drive you away from whom your heart calls for? So you decide to take one step. You don't feel ready, but you go for it nevertheless.

You: I'm sorry too. We can talk.

Seungcheol goes through exams robotically. Only his lack of focus could cost him a few points from what would otherwise be perfect scores. Even if that were the case, he does not care - at least not at the moment. He'd have the entire holiday break to wallow in self-pity if he wanted to afterwards. - But it's nothing that'd affect his general grade anyway. He's talking to you right after this test, the one from the class you have together. You're only a few rows behind him and it's the closest you'd been the whole week, only catching brief glimpses of each other around campus. The toughest part has been seeing you so retreated into yourself, so dull, and knowing he'd been the cause. He feared you weren't taking care of yourself, but he was no better of an example.

He finishes before most of the rest of the class, but he deliberately stays back until the end of the hour. You're the last two to hand in your papers, then it's only the two of you in the middle of the lecture hall. There's so much to say, but where to start? It's funny, he's been wanting to talk to you for days and now everything in his head's on disarray. His eyes search your face for hope that this won't go wrong.

"I…" you both stop.

"Can I go first?" you ask, figuring it's fair. He already said enough, it's your turn to try. Besides, if you're right, things would get settled quick. You have a feeling. When he nods, you take a deep breath and speak, "Did you mean all of the things you said?" you're pulling at your shirt sleeves. It makes you look smaller than you are already compared to him but you ask looking straight into his eyes.

Seungcheol doesn't miss a beat to answer, "All of it."

"Even when you said you loved me?"

"Not loved. Love." He corrects. "I didn't want the first time I tell you to be like that," It kinda slipped out, "but it's the truth. I love you."

And you're hugging him. This is not how he expected this conversation to go. Honestly he didn't dare to picture how it'd go down, whether they be good or bad outcomes. He was about ready to plead and beg, do whatever you asked of him. But he's wrapping his arms around you tightly like he's afraid if he lets go he'd never hold you again. He kisses the crown of your hair before he rests his head on top of yours "I'm so sorry."

"I am sorry too."

"What are you sorry for?" He's frowning.

"For how I reacted, for doubting you and running without hearing you out."

"I don't think neither of us were in a good state to talk." Then he pulls back. He has to ask, "Are you sure you're okay?" He sees a few stray tears on your face and wipes them off gently.

You nod, and smile at him. "Yeah, it's just- I was so scared."

"Me too." You could've left things like that, but you chose to believe in each other. That you were in it for the long run. He leans down, resting his forehead against yours, "Thank you for coming back."

"I missed you."

"I missed you too. So much."

"Cheol?"

"Mm?"

"I love you." And he's smiling, that big smile that makes his dimples show. You both feel much more lighter now, like you can breathe again.

"I love you."

And you're about to close the small gap between you, when the door opens. You both turn towards it to find the professor.

He stops, staring at your intertwined hands. You think you see a ghost of a smile. "I just came back for these." He walks over to the desk and takes a cellphone out of one of the drawers before he heads back out. "Enjoy your holidays."

"Thanks." "You too."

"Was it me or he smiled at us?"

"It's probably because you stopped spacing out in class because of me."

"Okay that's not what happened."

"Right. You actually spaced out more."

"You're a bad tutor."

"I could do worse."

"Oh I know."

Fin.

[ghostintheclub]

Exfoliating | Han Ji-sung

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Summary: You’re watching your boyfriend, Jisung do a livestream with Jeongin but you’re nearly drooling off camera because Jisung is in sweatpants and shirtless under his hoodie

Warnings: Dry humping

Word Count: 900

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Jeongin’s skincare streams are usually quiet, calming.

Tonight? Not so much.

Because Han shows up halfway through wearing that outfit.

Red hoodie, half-zipped with no shirt underneath. Face mask flopped over his cheeks like a damp leaf. Gray sweatpants sitting low on his hips. Tattoo on his chest playing peekaboo with every shift.

And you’re trying your best to stay off-camera, like always. Curled up on the couch behind the ring light, sipping banana milk, scrolling aimlessly. You’re not allowed to show your face, not because he’s ashamed of you, but because the last thing you both need is a herd of sasaengs camping outside your apartment with knives.

But holy hell, he’s making this hard.

“Your pores are so clean,” Han coos, poking Jeongin’s cheek on camera, voice thick with mischief. “Do you wash your face with holy water?”

“I use toner, hyung.”

“Same thing.”

You bite your lip behind the screen, watching Han flop into frame beside Jeongin, hoodie slipping a little further open. He doesn’t fix it. Of course he doesn’t. And those damn sweatpants..

You let your thighs squeeze together.

You’re already soaked, and you haven’t even touched him yet.

They’re talking about exfoliating now. Han’s fingers are dancing along the little jars and bottles, occasionally smearing cream on Jeongin just to be annoying.

And all the while, he keeps glancing at you.

Over the phone screen. Through his lashes. That cheeky little smirk on his lips like he knows.

He knows what he’s doing.

After ten more minutes of chaos, Jeongin waves at the chat, “We’re logging off, thanks everyone, goodnight!”

The screen goes dark.

The second the stream ends, Han yanks off the face mask and tosses it onto the coffee table.

Then he looks at you. “You good, babe?”

You don’t even answer.

You crawl onto his lap in two seconds flat.

“Oh..hi..hi,” he stammers, startled and grinning, “What’s going on? Why are you..?”

You don’t answer. Just grind your hips down, slowly, letting the soft cotton of his sweatpants rub between your legs. He lets out the prettiest gasp.

“Yah..baby..!”

You grab the front of his hoodie and bury your face in the side of his neck. He smells like citrus toner and trouble.

“You wore this outfit on purpose,” you mumble.

“Wha..? No I didn’t..well..okay maybe a little,” he laughs, breath hitching as you roll your hips again, slower this time. “Oh my godddd you’re so mean.”

“You’re mean. You know what sweatpants do to me.”

“I was helping Jeongin cleanse!”

You ignore him and keep grinding. The friction is hot, delicious, maddeningly soft, your leggings press right up against the thick line of his cock, already growing hard beneath you. Every little shift drags your clit just right. And the look on his face?

Ruined.

Blushing. Eyes glassy. Jaw loose. Tattoo just barely showing near his collar.

“I-Innie’s still here,” Han whispers, glancing past your shoulder.

You peek.

Yep. Jeongin’s still sitting on the other end of the couch, phone in his hand, eyebrows raised halfway to the ceiling.

Han winces. “Sorry. She’s usually not this aggressive.”

You blink, smiling sweetly at Jeongin.

“I’m always this aggressive,” you say cheerfully.

Jeongin holds up his phone. “I’m calling Seungmin. He owes me ₩10,000.”

“For what?”

“He bet you two would start humping before midnight.”

Han makes a mortified noise and tries to cover your face with his hoodie sleeve.

“Hyung,” Jeongin sighs, standing up, “I’m going to the kitchen. Do not hookup on this couch. I eat ramen here.”

“No sex, I swear,” Han calls after him, voice squeaky with panic. “Just..just heavy cuddling! Innocent cuddling! Holy cuddling!”

The second Jeongin disappears into the kitchen, you go back to grinding.

Han whimpers.

“Stop..baby, please..god you feel so good..this is illegal, you can’t just do this to me.”

“But I am.”

He lets his head fall back, lips parted, hoodie slipping all the way down his shoulders now. “You’re evil.”

You rock your hips harder, watching the way his cock twitches in those stupid, perfect sweatpants. There’s already a wet patch forming where you’re grinding. Yours or his, you can’t even tell anymore.

He grabs your waist with both hands, guiding you without thinking, body moving on instinct.

“Fuck..fuck..don’t stop,” he babbles. “You’re gonna make me cum..swear to god..just like this..”

“You can cum,” you whisper. “Right in your sweats.”

“Jesus.”

You rut against him like you’re in heat, chasing the drag of pressure that keeps sending sparks through your belly. You’re close too, so close. And Han’s mouth is open, breathing hard, looking at you like you’re everything.

“Can I?” he begs. “Can I come like this? Please?”

You nod.

Han cries out softly and grips your hips as he bucks up one last time. His thighs tense. His cock jerks against you. And then, fuck, he’s gone, moaning your name into your shoulder as he spills in his pants.

You follow seconds later, grinding down frantically until your whole body tenses and the high crashes through you in waves, clinging to him, whimpering, soaking your leggings.

You collapse against him, panting.

He holds you like he never wants to let go.

“That was the best skincare routine ever,” you whisper.

Han giggles, breathless. “I think I exfoliated my soul.”

From the kitchen, Jeongin yells, “I hear you.”

You both burst out laughing.

[deaddovesandstraykids-deactivat]

KINKTOBER 2025

like a jigsaw

day three: alien abduction and nipple clamps wc: <1000 alien!han x female reader warnings: noncon, abduction, tentacles, nipple clamps

Han comes from an asexual reporductive speices, so while the idea of pleasure isn't new to him (otherwise what would be the point in having so many tentacles) his species don't have different genders and genitalia.

Han had always wanted his own human plaything, and that was before he discovered porn. it was easy enough to hack into the earthling's networks, and he soon grew fascinated with the way being touched in certain places made humans squeal and squelch and moan. how their bodys fit together like jigsaw pieces...

so, when the others aren't looking, he snags a ship and sneaks away from the colony. he assumes a human form from some kpopstar he sees on a poster, and goes hunting for a plaything. you.

of course you said yes with Han Jisung, your ultimate bias, asks you on a date. at first, he's all shy and sweet one moment, all big eyes and pouty lips and stuttered words questions about 'do you wanna get out of here'... but once he's got you alone, he completely switches. looking at you like you're something to eat. no, something to... disecct. and as he goes to kiss you, with a strange and menacing look in his eyes, you faint.

you wake up strapped to a table, naked and spread under clinical lighting. you're alone with no idea how you got here, in this strange metalic room. you scream.

Han thinks your screams sound so pretty. he decided to stay in the human form he'd adopted to catch you, because to his delight it was the type that came with the closest things human's had to a tentacle, and while it was much shorter and firmer than his normal ones he was still looking forward to playing with it. and with you.

he wasn't fussy with what type of human he caught, but he is secretly pleased to find out you're the type that takes the human-tentacle. though Han definitly could've had fun with two human tentacles cuz all humans have holes somwhere.

he's even happier when he discovers how senstitive the globes on your chest are- nice and squishy, soft and round, with cute little coloured tips that seem to be extra sensitive. they quickly become his favourite part of you, even more than the fun wet place between your legs. he was planning to see how many tentacles he could fit in your holes, but the way you flinch away when he plays with your- breasts? yeah, that's the word- makes him hyperfocus on those teats.

you start to cry as Han plays with your nipples, seeming fascinated at your different reactions. the way you try and keep all your sounds in, and the harder you try to stay quiet the harder he tries to make you loud. pulling and twisting and flicking, making you whine and moan and twist and shout. begging him to stop as you feel the coil of pleasure heating your belly...

and then he pinches both of them, hard, at the same time and... you squirt.

he loves that. starts babbling to himself in a language you don't understand as he rummages around the room , looking for something that you're sure only promises more humilation as you lay their in a pile of your own juices and humilation. you're surprised he doesn't bother to look between your legs, to inspect your puffy pussy and the slickness covering your lower half, but instead he seems hyperfocused on finding something to play with your nipples.

he grins wickedly at you when he finds what he's looking for, scuttling back to you and dangling two shiny pretty things at you. if you didn't know better you'd say those were... nipple clamps?

they are nipple clamps, and they hurt. you don't know what kind of alien matieral they're made of, but some how they're hot and cold at the same time, vibrating on and off, twisting themselves around your poor teats...

and Han? Han is having the best time, jerking his human tentacle in one hand while he shoves one of his real tentacles down your throat, pumping it back and forth the way he's seen humans do in the dirty films he's been watching. he thinks you look beautiful, your mascara running with tears and your lipstick smudged around his cock and your legs shaking from another orgasm as he uses another tentacle to suck on your clit...

his favourite partrs are still your tits though, how that he's half given up on his human disguise and is using his tentacles to bind your body, wrapping them around your tits and squeezing so they stand out more. yanking on your nipple clamps and feeling the delicious vibrations as you try and scream around the tentacle fucking your face...

you're on the verge of another forced orgasm when Han cums through his human cock, experiencing his first human orgasm. as the sticky white sticks to his hand, he realises what's just happened and looks at your face with an evil gleam. he doesn't stop fucking your throat as he smears his cum over your pretty, puffy-cried face, smearing it really good so it covers your cheeks like moisturiser.

you try and flinch and pull away, but all that does is egg him on further. he uses more tentacles to spread your legs further and bend them up, almost folding you in half as he kneels in front of you, lining his human cock with your exposed pussy.

he gives your sore nipples one last strong tug before he starts to bully his human tentacle-his cock- into you. you try and protest, you try and scream. but what you actually do is cum, gushing over han's thick cock as he starts to fuck you deep and creamy, murmuring to himself

"like a jigsaw..."

more alien!han?

yes

no

Voting ended onOct 4, 2025

[deaddovesandstraykids-deactivat]

weekly ritual

older sister's boyfriend chan x fem reader wc: <800 inspired by 🦦 warnings: smut, p in v penetration, no aftercare. alcohol and drug use mentioned (spiked drink)  mdni. if i catch you, you're out. 

 your sister can’t hold her liquor, but you don’t mind at all. because it always ends the same way.

tonight is the same as any other, your older sister being princess carried into the living room by her boyfriend after another night out and too many shots. you knew this would happen, so you’ve made sure to be waiting on the sofa in your shortest shorts and an oversized tee - with no bra of course, and the aircon turned up just enough that the chill air makes your nipples stand out. adding to the act, you’re even sucking on a lollipop.

you pretend to be surprised when chris walks in, stumbling slightly from the weight of your sister and the surprise of you. you don’t know why he’s surprised - this is the routine the two of you have fallen into after too many repeat events. chris’ shocked expression quickly turns into a smirk as he looks you up and down, the hem of your shorts only just peeking out from under the soft fabric of your shirt. his cock throbs when he realises - it’s one of his shirts. 

you stole it from your sister’s room, and the crime is more than worth the punishment from the way chris’ eyes go dark. he doesn’t say anything at first, his eyes locked on you as he dumps your sister into the armchair. not too roughly, but with a certain carelessness that lets you know he’s put one of his ‘special pills’ in her drink. she won’t be waking up any time soon.

though even if she did, the look on her boyfriend's face tells you he wouldn’t really care.

you suck your lollipop and give him your best bambi eyes as he approaches you.

‘couldn’t sleep, baby girl?’ his voice is as much of a caress as the way his fingers stroke your cheek, lightly brushing over your soft skin until he can trace your lip sensually. he takes the stick of your lollipop with gentle firmness, slowly pulling it out of your mouth. smiling when you obey, and switching it out for his thumb that you suck on obediently as he brings the lollipop to his own mouth, wrapping his lips around it with a deliberation that makes your pussy clench. 

‘or… were you waiting up for me?’

he sits down next to you, his hand easily resting on your thigh like it’s no big deal. as if your skin isn’t prickling with arousal already, made worse by the slow circles his thumb is making as his hand slides higher, until his fingers are playing with the edge of your short shorts. you can’t wait until he discovers…

‘no panties?’ his voice is a pleased purr as he slips his fingers through the leg of your shorts and finds your slick folds, petting them like he would a kitten as he smiles at you condescendingly. 

‘naughty little thing, trying to seduce your sister’s boyfriend like this…’ 

you swallow and bat your eyelids, only half playing when you whisper his name.

‘chris…’

just hearing his name from your lips is enough to make him snap. his shirt - the one that you were wearing - is off you in seconds. your shorts? shredded. then he flips you over, face down in the cushions and ass up in the air for easy use. he doesn’t bother to undress himself properly, just undoes his fly and lets his jeans fall enough to release his thick cock. which he taps against your little wet hole a few times. teasing.

‘such a little slut aren’t you? all wet and needy, for the guy who fucks your sister…’

he thrusts in harsh, his girth stretching you to your limit as he fucks into you balls deep, lifting your hips up with one strong hand while the other forces your head further into the cushions to muffle your screams of ecstasy. he fucks you rough, treating you like his own personal fleshlight, calling you a slutty desperate whore, mocking you for letting him use you like this. he doesn’t bother to touch your clit or try and pleasure you at all. you always cum anyway.

when he’s finished, after cumming deep in your womb, he wipes his cock on off your - his - t-shirt before, dropping it over your freshly creamed cunt. he walks across to the armchair without a word  to you, picking your sister up and slinging her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, carrying her to her bedroom and shutting the door behind him with a lazy kick. and not a single glance back. leaving you used, sore, and humiliated, with his cum dripping out of you and forming a sticky puddle between your thighs.

same time next week you guess.

[deaddovesandstraykids-deactivat]

hydrate

minsung x fem reader  wc: <300 warnings: smut, dubcon/noncon, forced omorashi, humiliation, han has a piss kink, semi-forced oral (fem rec), dirty talk incl. praise, dead dove do not eat mdni. if i catch you, you're out.

a hard thought i had after remembering some messages i received from lovely readers who were disappointed that omo didn't win it's kinktober poll. i've changed my writing style slightly, let me know what you think.

'that's it. good girl.'

minho's hand is firm and unyielding, pinning your skirt up as he presses on your lower belly, right over your bladder. your very, very full bladder. han is on his knees in front of you, giving you his best puppy dog eyes, keeping your quivering thighs spread so he has complete freedom to play with your crotch.

'come on, please.' han whines, lapping at your clit through your simple cotton panties - nothing fancy, just plain white cotton, innocent and... absorbent. 'lemme taste. just a little.' he nuzzles into 'baby, c'mon, please.'

'i know you need to, baby girl. you drank so. much. water.' minho punctuates each word with a firm press, phsyically pumping your resistance out of your bladder.

'no, no, minho no- please, don't make me-'

you feel it. relief. warm and shameful, soaking your panties and trickling down your thighs. han groans like he's been granted the greatest pleasure as your pee drips through the fabric and onto his face, his moans turning full on orgasmic when minho pulls your gusset to the side and grants him baptism from your bladder.

han moans between your legs, burying his face in your muff and slurping up everything he can find. minho leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your cheek bone, licking up your tears before pressing that salty shame to your lips.

'that wasn't so bad now, was it, love?'

🕊️ 🤍 🕊️ 🤍 🕊️ 🤍 🕊️ 🤍 🕊️ 🤍 🕊️ 🤍 🕊️ 🤍 🕊️ 🤍 🕊️ 🤍 🕊️

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[sailorsoons]

Giving Season Again (c.sc & l.c)

PAIRING: Chan x Reader x Seungcheol

SUMMARY: It's been a year since Chan got a taste of you and Seungcheol at the office Christmas party. Turns out, you want to celebrate.

WC: 5,632

AU: Polyamorous, Established Throuple

GENRE:  Smut, PWP

RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

WARNINGS: Just pure filth honestly. This throuple is fully polyamorous meaning that the boys do in fact kiss and have sex!!! explicit language, explicit sexual content including oral (m. receiving) by two people at once, face sitting (f. receiving), fingering (m. receiving), unprotected sex (both p in v and p in a), subby Chan, overstimulation, lots of body worship and praise, overall messy sex, use of lube, pet names (baby//good boy), Chan gets sandwiched :)

A/N: Happy birthday to @daechwitatamic who has asked for 'reader and Cheol make Chan cry' for a literal year. I know it's from Chan's POV but I hope this is everything you ever dreamed of seodifjesdrofijs I love you so so much pls never change. I have been hiding this fic from you for like 2 weeks lmfao sdolfijsd I love you the most!

A/N 2: This is the second part to another PWP but you do not need to read that one for annnnyyy context to read this. There's no plot. This is also un-beta read oops.

MAIN M. LIST | ASK | PART ONE

NERVOUSNESS CREEPS UP AS CHAN PUSHES OPEN THE FRONT DOOR. The chill from outside clings to his coat, but the warmth of the apartment buffets him as he steps in and shuts the door. He shakes the snow off his boots, careful not to get it anywhere but the entryway rug or you'll kill him. His heart is pounding as he glances at the clock above the mantle, knowing he's running late again.

The Christmas party at Joshua's starts in less than an hour, and Chan knows how upset you get when plans run behind schedule. Committing to social obligations and getting out of the house with you is always a carefully planned event - even down to the hour. So when he sees that he's going to make the three of you late again, he's already prepping an apology.

Seungcheol is probably already dressed, which is the good news. If Chan knows the two of you well enough, Seungcheol is probably sitting with that lazy, patient smile of his as you run around the room to put on your final touches while fuming about being behind schedule.

"Guys?" Chan calls, shrugging off his coat. The living room is dim and quiet as he hurries toward the bedroom where he heres a muffled in here, Channie - your voice. His stomach flips at the nickname.

Nudging the door open, Chan opens his mouth to immediately begin apologizing, but the words die on his tongue. The room is dim but bathed in candlelight, the flames flickering on every surface you and Seungcheol - probably you - managed to cover.

The bed is made up fresh with the pillows fluffed and the sheets neatly tucked, which would make Chan think was odd if he wasn't distracted by the sight waiting for him dead center of the mattress.

You're dress in a red silk slip, perched right in the middle of the bed with your knees folded under you and your hands on your lap. Chan's heart starts slamming, eyes tracing the way the hem rides up your thighs and dips low on your chest. Behind you, Seungcheol is leaning against the headboard, one hand tucked behind his head, the other on his lap, fingers tapping. His shirt is unbuttoned halfway down his chest, sleeves rolled to expose his forearms.

Chan swallows hard, feeling like a prey animal. You're both wearing matching smiles - which can only mean trouble - and your eyes are sparkling. He realizes neither of you are dressed for a party - no heels for you, no suit jacket for Seungcheol. Chan's confusion deepens, his bag slipping from his shoulder wear he drops it near the door.

"Uhh," He chokes a little. "Aren't we supposed to be leaving soon?" He rubs the back of his neck. It's overly hot suddenly, and he can't help the way his eyes snag on you. On Seungcheol. On you again. "Joshua's party? I got held up for that meeting across town. I can change quick…?"

It comes out as a question because he's unsure if he's supposed to change. He'd expected you both to be ready to go and eager to try and make up for time, but he had not anticipated this.

Seungcheol laughs. "Sit down, Channie."

"What about Joshua's party?"

"It's tomorrow." You pat the mattress. "Come sit."

Chan hesitates, glancing between you. You pout a little and he caves immediately. There are very few things he can deny you. He's never been able to, even before his office crushed turned into genuine love.

He crosses the room, sinking onto the mattress, the bed dipping under his weight. His back is to Seungcheol but he angles himself so that he's got you both in his peripheral. You grin, walking on your knees toward him, your hands going to his shoulders. He immediately relaxes, your touch warm and inviting as you lean around him to press a kiss to his cheek.

"What's going on?" Chan murmurs, voice catching as your fingers kneed the muscles in his shoulders.

Seungcheol exchanges a look with you. "It's been a year, you know?"

"A year?"

Chan blinks and goes through his Rolodex of dates. You and Seungcheol have been dating since spring years ago, and he's only been dating the two of you since February. Your promotion had come only four months ago, and Seungcheol closed that deal in January-

"Since the office Christmas party," Seungcheol supplies, voice gentle. He cocks his head, smiling. "Since we got to give you our gift in my office."

Heat floods Chan's face as the memories come crashing back - the taste of champagne on your lips, Seungcheol's guiding timbre as Chan tasted you for the first time, the way Chan had unraveled you right there on the couch.

He swallows. "I guess I didn't realize."

"That's okay," you murmur, cupping his face to turn it toward you. "We wanted to celebrate. Joshua agreed to tell you his party was tonight. It's not. It's tomorrow."

Seungcheol doesn't move. Chan fights a shiver under Seungcheol's gaze, the older man's mouth kicking up in a smirk as you lean forward to press a kiss behind Chan's ear. He does shiver then, the heat of your hands drifting down his arms and the smell of your sandalwood and vanilla perfume making his thoughts hazy.

"You've been working so hard lately," Seungcheol murmurs. "We wanted to celebrate though."

"Really?"

"Mmhmm." Seungcheol stands. Chan looks up at him as he towers over the bed for a moment, looking down at Chan with so much adoration it forces him to avert his eyes, face aflame. Seungcheol is still an intensity he hasn't adjusted to. "Let us take care of you, yeah?"

"Okay."

"Good boy."

The praise sends a tingle down Chan's spine. He only has a second to register Seungcheol is moving before Seungcheol is on his knees, hands reaching for the buttons on Chan's shirt. You help Seungcheol, sweeping your hands under the fabric to sweep it down Chan's arms.

His thoughts turn to static as you pepper his throat with light kisses before joining Seungcheol on the floor, slipping off the bed easily. He looks down at you both and realizes he's fucked. Completely, wholeheartedly fucked. The look you both give him tells him a single thing - you both want to eat him alive.

Seungcheol works the buttons on Chan's jeans open while your hands go to his thighs, kneading. He realizes he's barely breathing, shaking under your dual attention. He lifts his hips hen you ask, letting you pull his pants down, boxers following in one fluid motion.

Chan is painfully fucking hard. He has been since he stepped in the room. To make matters worse, you make a greedy sound at the back of your throat as you look up at him through your lashes, a grin on your face.

"So pretty," you whisper. You reach for him, fingers brushing up his shaft. Chan let's out a pitiful moan at the contact, hips twitching. "So fucking pretty, Chan."

Seungcheol hums in agreement, leaning in to press a kiss to Chan's inner thigh. Chan gasps, hands fisting the sheets as you mirror the action on his other side, your lips soft and warm.

"Relax, baby," Seungcheol says. "We've got you."

Seungcheol's warm hand replaces yours, stroking from the base of Chan's cock all the way to the sticky tip. Chan bucks into the touch, a whine escaping his throat. You grin and lean forward, tongue darting out to lick a stripe up the underside of his shaft, meeting Seungcheol's hand.

Chan is done for. You and Seungcheol working in tandem is both heaven and hell. Seungcheol takes the head of Chan's cock into his mouth, sucking gently as his tongue swirls around the tip. Chan moans, head falling back, eyes fluttering as pleasure spikes through him. He feels your tongue scrape down his cock, teasing and wet and warm, the dual sensations making him nearly come right there.

"Fuck," Chan rasps.

He threads a hand into Seungcheol's hair, his other hand reaching to intertwine your fingers with his. He squeezes you as you kiss and lick at him, trading off with Seungcheol seamlessly. Seungcheol pulls off with a wet pop and a line of spit only to be replace with your mouth stretching around Chan's length, swallowing him down.

Seungcheol watches, eyes dark, lips wet. "That's it, baby. Take him deep. Look how wrecked he is already."

You listen, taking him in deeper, cheeks hollowing while Seungcheol's hand slides lower, cupping Chan gently. He whimpers, hips twitching, but Seungcheol's free hand presses him down, keeping him under control.

Pulling back, you look up at Chan, a string of saliva connecting your lips to Chan's cock. Seungcheol dives in immediately, tongue lapping at the mess, before taking Chan deep again. Chan's stomach knots and he lets out a broken sound, collapsing to the mattress, breathing erratic as the two of you share him like that, mouths alternating, sometimes kissing each other around him, sometimes fighting for control.

"Please," he begs, fingers squeezing yours. "Close."

Seungcheol pulls of him, lips glassy and red. "Not yet."

In moment, Seungcheol is on his feet, pulling you with him. The two of you help move Chan to the center of the bed. He can feel his heartbeat through the mattress, the room spinning in candlelight as Seungcheol grabs a pillow and props it under Chan's head.

Chan reaches for you on instinct, but Seungcheol catches his hands, pinning them gently above Chan's head for a moment.

"You want a taste?" Chan nods eagerly, a whine stuck in his throat. It was why he was reaching for you. Seungcheol grins and turns to you. "Let him taste you, baby. While I get him ready."

Chan nods eagerly. "Please."

You shuffle forward and Chan groans. Of course you're wearing nothing under the scrap of red silk. Of course you're already wet and wanting, thighs bracketing his head. He doesn't wait for you, hands gripping your thighs to pull you toward his mouth until he meets your core. He groans into you, tongue delving in immediately.

The sounds you make are addicting. Chan loves them, chasing them as he laps at your pussy, slow and messy and hungry. He knows how you like it now, his tongue circling your clit lazily before sucking at you greedily. It makes your thighs twitch, his name leaving your mouth in breathy, honeyed whispers.

Seungcheol settles behind you somewhere, the bed dipping under his weight. Chan whimpers into your cunt when he feels Seungcheol part his legs wider, fingers slicked with warm lube tracing his entrance teasingly.

"Relax for me, baby," Seungcheol coos, pressing. Chan whines but does, focusing on the way you melt into his mouth, the way your fingers thread through his hair.

Chan tenses only for a second as Seungcheol presses in a finger, sinking in knuckle by knuckle. Above him, you grin down, chasing the flick of Chan's tongue on your clit while Seungcheol pumps his fingers, pressing into a spot that makes Chan see stars.

"Good boy," Seungcheol praises, free hand stroking Chan's thighs. "Sounds like you're doing so good."

"He is," you promise. "It feels so good, Cheol."

Chan whines, the vibrations buzzing through you, making your thighs quake. His tongue dips inside you, then back to your clit, sucking softly. Seungcheol watches, timing his thrusts to match Chan's rhythm, curling his fingers each time Chan licks upward.

You come first, unexpectedly, grinding down hard as waves crash over you. Chan drinks you greedily, lapping until you're shivering, oversensitive. You lift off him carefully, collapsing beside him, pressing kisses to his slick mouth.

He kisses you back eagerly - he loves kissing you. The way he feels your fingers cradle his jaw, the way your tongue sweeps against his, the way he makes you shy, letting him control the kiss despite not being in control of Seungcheol wrecking him.

When Seungcheol presses another finger in, you shut Chan up with a kiss. Your hands are all over him, fingers tracing down his arms, his chest. He feels like he's about to meet god when your nails scrape the hard planes of his waist, Seungcheol laughing as Chan seizes up and almost comes from the dual assault.

"Can you take more?" Seungcheol asks.

Chan is already nodding before Seungcheol finishes the question. "Yes, please."

"Alright."

Seungcheol pulls his fingers out. Chan immediately hates the feeling of being empty, but it's replaced with feral hunger for you as you lay back on the bed, giddy and breathless as Seungcheol pats Chan's legs.

"Fuck her for me," he murmurs. "Nice and slow."

"Say less," Chan rasps.

Daze, Chan rolls over on top of you, pinning you to the bed. His thoughts are a sticky, staticky mess, but when you look up at him with stars in his eyes, he realizes he's so painfully in love he could die right now and be happy.

He would prefer not to die right now, though. Not with Seungcheol tapping Chan playfully on the ass to tell him to get a move on before he starts getting undressed. Not with the way you hook a leg around Chan's waist, the silk shift lifting.

You pull him down for a kiss as Chan presses the tip of his cock to your entrance, both of you moaning. He sinks in slowly - just the way you like it - feeling the way you squeeze down on him immediately, just as effected as him as he is you.

When he bottoms out, he pauses. You shiver beneath him, leaning your head up to kiss him everywhere you can - his neck, his throat, his chest, his arms. He lowers himself onto his elbows, catching your mouth with his to steal a kiss.

"Feels so good," you pant when he breaks for air, hips pressed to yours. "Please give me more."

Chan does. He rolls his hips slowly, marveling in the way your face scrunches up, your eyes creasing as you tip your head back into the bed, throat exposed. He scrapes his teeth down your neck, loving the way you melt for him, as he fucks you.

The weight of Seungcheol shifts the bed again and as Chan fucks you slow and deep, he looks over his shoulder to see Seungcheol on his knees behind him, fisting his cock, lube slicking his grip.

Seungcheol is a marvel. Chan thought so the first day he joined the company. Had you asked him that day if he ever imagined his hotter than normal boss and his drop dead beautiful girlfriend - Chan's coworker - would ever have him like this, he'd have called a therapist to tell them he was delusional.

Now, he can't imagine being anywhere else but here.

Here, where you and Seungcheol have fit him in like the perfect puzzle piece into your life. Here where the two of you love him more than he ever imagined being loved before. Here where Seungcheol looks at Chan with shining eyes, giving him a kiss that feels far too gentle for the way Seungcheol nudges Chan open.

Chan gasps, sucking in a sharp breath as he pauses fucking you, so Seungcheol can slide home inch by inch. The dual assault of you squeezing down on his cock and Seungcheol stretching him wide makes Chan see white, the room a scatter of candlelight and stars.

Once fully seated, it's Seungcheol who sets the pace, rolling his hips slowly into Chan, forcing him to drive his hips back and forth. It's overwhelming and Chan gives up, letting Seungcheol control the flow, Seungcheol's chest pressing to his back as Chan presses into you.

Chan kisses you again, raw and messy as you let out the broken little sounds he loves. You stare up at them both with glassy eyes, mouth parted, heart hammering like a hummingbird's wings beneath Chan.

Seungcheol's hand comes around to pull at your silk shift, your chest spilling out. Chan doesn't have to be told but he feels Seungcheol hand on the back of his head anyway, pressing him to your chest as he catches a nipple with his mouth, tongue flicking.

You make a high pitched sound and Chan grins, biting you a little. Seungcheol laughs, taking it as a sign to fuck Chan properly.

"Hear that?" Seungcheol rasps. "Fuck her just like that."

You whimper, nails digging into Chan's shoulders as he moves, guided by Seungcheol's rhythm. Chan's face is flushed, eyes locked on you beneath him.

"Love you," he whispers wrecked. It spills out of him. "Both of you - fuck - I - fuck-"

Seungcheol speeds up slightly, angling to hit that spot deep inside of Chan with each thrust. Chan cries out, pace faltering, but Seungcheol keeps him steady, fucking him through it. You clench around Chan, pulling another moan from him as you tremble, the sign of your orgasm coming on.

"Make her come," Seungcheol warns.

Chan nods, licking up your neck as a hand slips between you. Your legs squeeze around him tight when his fingers find your clit, circling in the mess you've made in time with Seungcheol's thrusts.

You come with a broken sound, squeezing Chan so tight he can't help but spill immediately after you, both of you whining as you ride out your high together. You and Seungcheol are ruthless though, Seungcheol starting to fuck into Chan with wild, sloppy thrusts while you squeeze down on him.

"Oh god," Chan squeaks, the overstimulation slamming into him. He can barely speak, going catatonic while he's pinned between the two of you, your mouth everywhere on his face, Seungcheol's lips pressing to Chan's shoulders. "I'm-fuck!"

Tears prick the corners of his eyes he slams into another orgasm. He wasn't even sure he could do that, but it makes his stomach squeeze tight, his limbs locking as he comes again between you and Seungcheol, your hands all over him, murmuring how much you both love him.

Seungcheol comes somewhere in between, hips slowing until he stops, chest heaving against Chan's back. For a moment, the three of you stay like that, Chan drifting in a sea of stars between the two of you. He smells your sandalwood and vanilla, drunk on it as he drifts.

Eventually, Seungcheol pulls out first. Chan makes a sound but manages to lift himself on shaky arms, removing himself from you and collapsing next to you. You tangle together, limbs entwined, breaths mingling as Seungcheol presses kisses to Chan's back.

"Happy… um. It's not an anniversary so."

"Happy giving season," Seungcheol laughs, throat raw. "Again."

Chan laughs, breathless. "Happy giving season, again."

[skzfflovers]

just this much

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pairing: han jisung x fem reader

word count: 8K

contains: +18, bff!jisung, kinda friends with benefits, masturbation (both), dry humping, grinding, whiny messy boba eyes begging jisung

authors note: english is not my first language so I apologize for any mistake in advance.

⋆｡°✩

summary: It was stupid, really… how one week every month your brain decided to turn Han Jisung into something else entirely. Normally he was just Ji, your best friend, the boy who let himself into your apartment without knocking and ate half your snacks. But that week? God, you couldn't even look without feeling the need to devour him.

There were days when his laugh seemed deeper, when the stretch of his black t-shirt across his chest made your stomach twist, when the fabric clung to his biceps so tight it was impossible not to look, When you caught yourself staring at his hands wrapped around a controller and thinking of things best friends should never think about.

You had trained yourself to handle it. Stay quiet. Avoid too much eye contact. Blame hormones and wait it out. Friendship was more important. Always.

Except tonight. 

Tonight he was sprawled across your couch, damp hair curling against his forehead after a shower, shirt long forgotten somewhere. His skin was warm, golden under the TV light, and the smell of his shampoo lingered in the air. You curled your legs under yourself, forcing your eyes back to the screen, trying not to breathe too deeply.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, eyes still on the screen. “Why do you sometimes look at me like that?”

Your pulse stuttered. “Like what?”

“Like…” he tilted his head, pretending to think, though you caught the edge of a smile. “Like you want something.”

Your laugh was sharp, fake. “I don’t.”

“You don’t?” His eyes flicked to yours then, curious. Too curious.

“No,” you said quickly, but it came out breathy, your voice catching on the end.

The corner of his mouth lifted, slow, knowing. He shifted closer, resting his arm along the back of the couch, body heat brushing against you. “You sure about that?”

“Yeah, Jisung, I’m sure.”

“Okay then.”

He came even closer, dropping his head onto your lap, a habit of his, one you were more than used to. But this time, as soon as his weight settled against you, your whole body lit up. Your breath hitched, heavy and uneven, and you forced yourself to play it cool, to keep your hands still, to pretend this was as casual as it always had been.

Except it wasn’t. Not when his hair brushed against your skin. Not when the heat of his body radiated through you, or when the faint smell of his shampoo curled up into your lungs and stayed there. You could see every line of his face, every shift of muscle, every little thing you weren’t supposed to notice. And your mind was long, long gone.

He didn’t say a word for the rest of the night, which was weird, Jisung was a yappy guy. Always running his mouth, filling silences with dumb jokes, humming under his breath, narrating his own thoughts like you hadn’t known him for years. But now? Nothing. Just him sitting there, quiet, and you facing the screen, pretending to care about that goddamn movie while your pulse pounded everywhere but your chest.

You tried to stay still, tried to focus, tried to shove your mind anywhere but the direction it was going. But the warmth of his body next to yours was distracting, the silence deafening, and soon your eyelids got heavy.

You must’ve dozed off.

Because suddenly you were dreaming, really dreaming, of him. Touches that had never happened, his voice in your ear saying things he had never said, heat curling low in your stomach until it felt so real you startled awake with your heart racing.

The movie was still on. The room was dim, the glow from the TV flickering across the walls. A blanket you didn’t remember pulling up was covering you, soft and warm. And right beside you, there he was, head tilted slightly down as he scrolled on his phone like nothing in the world had shifted.

“Bet that nap felt… good,” he said casually, without even looking at you.

“Uhum,” your throat felt dry. “I was sleepy.”

“Sleepy, huh?” His tone had that dangerous lilt, like he knew something you didn’t.

“Yeah… sleepy.”

Finally, he looked up from his phone, dark eyes locking onto yours, too steady. “Why exactly were you calling my name for?”

“What?”

“Yeah yeah, I heard that”

“It was just… a dream”

“Yeah.. but that kind of dream for sure”

“Jesus Christ. You won’t let go, will you?” you muttered, sitting up a little. “I’m just a bit… you know, horny. It’s just that time of the month. You ended up being my mind’s victim, that’s all. End of story.”

Jisung’s brows shot up, and then he laughed, low, amused, almost smug. “Ohhh, end of story? Sure. So what, you want me to call up that guy you went out with last week for you?”

Your stomach twisted, heat creeping up your neck. “Shut up.”

“What?” He grinned, leaning back against the couch. “He’s probably free. Though, to be fair, he didn’t even know how to kiss, right? You said that. Honestly, tragic.”

You glared, but he only chuckled, basking in your reaction, because that’s what best friends did, poked at bruises until the other one snapped.

Except this time… this time you could feel his heat radiating toward you. And when you risked a glance at him, the way he was looking at you made your chest tighten. Not playful, not entirely. Deeper. Like maybe he had already been thinking about the same things you had dreamed of.

Your pulse jumped, your mouth dry.

“So…” his voice was softer now, slower, eyes never leaving yours. “How was that dream?”

It wasn’t weird that he asked, not for you two. You had always been too comfortable, telling each other things you probably shouldn’t. But this time, the words weighed heavier. This time, the air was different.

“Come onnn!” he whined, that voice only Jisung could pull off, halfway between a joke and a plea. “I want to know.”

You shifted under the blanket, gripping the edge a little tighter. “Nothing much. I honestly can’t even remember it.” A lie, and a bad one, you could still feel it. “But it was more about… chasing a release somehow than what was in fact being done.”

His eyebrows lifted, interest flickering in his eyes, but he stayed quiet, letting your own words hang heavy between you.

That blanket was saving you. Because the way your thighs were pressing together, clenching harder with every second, you’d be ruined without it. The ache was pulsing now, deep and insistent, impossible to ignore. And talking about it with him, with Jisung, of all people, was making it so much worse.

His gaze flicked down to where the blanket bunched around your lap, then back up to your face, slowly. And when the corner of his mouth tugged into that knowing smirk, your stomach flipped.

He was breathing heavy now. You tried to look away, but you couldn’t.

“I can leave…” he murmured, voice low, careful. “So, you know, you can chase your release.”

Your lips parted, your eyes still locked on him. “…Okay…”

But he didn’t move.

“Or—” he cleared his throat, the sound tight, almost nervous. “Or I can stay and, hm… we can chase it together.”

You closed your eyes, releasing a breath. “Ji, we can’t.”

“I know,” he said quickly, leaning in, words tumbling out. “I know. But just… just for fun. We won’t have sex. We can just do it together, you know?”

Before you could protest again, he shifted, dragging himself under the blanket with you. The space between you disappeared.

His thighs brushed against yours beneath the blanket, warm and solid. And then you caught the subtle movement of his arm, his hand slipping lower, slowly.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, watching your face.

You nodded, throat too tight for words.

For a moment, the only sound was your breathing. You hesitated, your fingers twitching against the blanket, your whole body wound tight, nerves sparking under your skin. But the weight of his stare, the sound of his breath, the fact that he would do the same thing inches away from you… it pulled you under.

Your hand slid down, tentative at first, brushing over the thin fabric between your legs. A shiver shot through you at the contact. You pressed a little harder, exhaling shakily, until finally, slowly, you slipped under the waistband.

The first touch made your whole body jolt. You were wet already, embarrassingly so, your fingers sliding easily against yourself.

And then, a sound.

Soft, strangled, not yours.

Jisung.

He heard it. That slick, obscene sound in the quiet of the room. His lips parted as he dragged in a sharp breath, and before he could stop himself, a shy, broken moan escaped him.

Your eyes flew to his face, heat flooding every inch of you. His cheeks were flushed, his lashes low, but he didn’t look away.

And under the blanket, you both kept moving, his hand stroking himself, yours circling, pressing, dipping lower. The air thickened, your heavy breaths filling the silence and wet rhythm of your fingers and the faint slick sound of his hand working himself. The intimacy of it was unbearable: best friends, side by side, baring every secret breath and sound to each other.

You bit your lip, hips twitching upward into your hand, fingers dragging over your clit in lazy circles before sliding down again, gathering more of your arousal. The blanket was a shield, but the way his thigh pressed into yours made every movement vibrate between you, every shift impossible to hide.

“Fuck…” he whispered suddenly, voice cracked open, his forehead tipping forward until it brushed your shoulder. His breaths came hot against your skin. “You sound… so wet.”

The way he groaned right after, like the words had undone him too, pushed you further. You pressed harder, moving faster, chasing the edge you had been aching for.

His pace matched yours, each soft grunt and shaky exhale pulling you closer. You could feel him unraveling next to you, his hand moving quicker, thighs tensing against yours. And you couldn’t stop looking at him, his flushed face, the way his mouth kept falling open, the desperate little sounds slipping out despite his effort to hold them back.

Your hips lifted off the couch slightly, back arching, fingers circling furiously now. The pressure was unbearable, every nerve lit up.

“Oh, s-shit,” he whispered, broken, eyes squeezing shut. “Say my name”

“Ji—” it tore out of you, breathless, almost a cry. “Jisung”

And that was it. Your body clenched, trembling as release crashed through you, heat flooding your core, thighs quivering under the blanket. The wet sounds grew louder as you worked yourself through it, chasing every drop of pleasure until you couldn’t anymore.

Next to you, his hand stilled with a sharp, muffled groan, his body jerking as he spilled into his fist. He buried his face against your shoulder, teeth clenched as he came undone, his shaky breaths loud in your ear.

For a long moment, the only thing in the room was the sound of you both breathing, ragged, uneven, trying to come down.

Finally, Jisung pulled in a long, shaky inhale, still hiding his face against you. Then, with the tiniest laugh, he muttered, “Well… that was… different.”

Your cheeks burned, but your lips curled despite yourself. “You don’t say.”

—

You never talked about it. Not that night. Not the morning after. You just let yourselves drift into sleep on the couch, tangled under that same blanket, like nothing had even happened.

But something had. And whatever it was, it lingered.

After that, things felt… different.

Closer.

You caught yourself noticing it in small ways first, his hand on the back of your chair during late-night gaming, fingers brushing your shoulder like it belonged there. The way he leaned into you when he laughed, chest pressed against your back as though your bodies had decided space was optional.

It wasn’t just you, either. Jisung had gotten bolder, without even realizing it. His hugs lasted longer, holding on until you had to push at his chest and tease him for being clingy. His cheek kisses stopped being quick taps; now they lingered, his lips warm against your skin, leaving you flustered every time.

And maybe the strangest part was how normal it all felt. Like you had both silently agreed to erase that night and pretend nothing had changed, except everything had.

Because it never happened again. Not once.

But the weight of it was everywhere, tucked into every glance that lasted a little too long, every brush of skin that felt too deliberate, every easy excuse you both found to be pressed up against each other…

And today? 

It was one of those nights when he was coming to your apartment, one of those sticky summer nights where the air felt too heavy to breathe. You were in a tank top, no bra underneath, and shorts that clung tight to your thighs. It was hot. That was the only kind of clothes possible to wear.

Jisung arrived already tugging his shirt over his head, tossing it aside the second he stepped in. But then he looked at you. Really looked. His eyes dragged up, down, lingering in a way that made your stomach flip.

“Excuse me, Ji? Have you lost something?” you asked, trying to mask the heat in your voice.

“Well, I think I did,” he shot back smoothly, lips twitching.

“No, you didn’t. Now stop looking at my butt and give me the beer you bought me.”

He grinned, handing it over, and you clinked cans like always. It was fun, loud laughter, music playing low in the background, the two of you sprawled on the floor and couch in turns, talking about everything and nothing. It was the kind of night you've had a hundred times before.

Maybe it was the heat of summer, maybe it was that night you had never spoken about, maybe it was both. But your skin felt too sensitive, burning with every brush against his. And his heat, God, you could feel it. Every time he leaned close to whisper some dumb joke in your ear, every time his arm pressed against yours as he reached for the chips, every time his thigh bumped yours when he laughed too hard, your body caught fire.

And you didn’t move away.

Neither did he.

You were closer and closer, shoulders touching, legs pressed together like the couch wasn’t wide enough, like the floor wasn’t big enough. It didn’t feel like best friends hanging out anymore. It felt like something was about to happen.

And you weren’t sure you wanted to stop it.

“Ji.”

“Hum?” he hummed, voice casual, but his eyes were already on you.

“Do you remember… that night?”

You didn’t even have to clarify. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Yeah?”

“Do you ever… think about it?”

His lips pressed together, then parted just enough for a whisper. “Well, yeah…”

“Me too.”

Silence stretched, charged and heavy, until he finally breathed, “…We can’t.”

“I know.”

“But…”

You both said it at the same time and immediately broke into nervous laughter, the sound shaking some of that unbearable tension.

“You go first,” you told him.

He licked his lips, hesitant but honest. “We can do it again if you want. Just… no sex.”

Your chest tightened. “I think I want that.”

This time, there was no blanket to hide under. You were both on the floor, the low lamp casting shadows that made everything feel sharper, rawer.

He shifted where he sat, legs spread wide on the carpet, watching you with that mix of mischief and restraint that only made your pulse race faster.

“So what,” you asked, tilting your head, trying to sound playful even though your voice was shaking, “we just… sit here and stare at each other?”

He smirked, leaning back on his hands. “Depends. You planning on doing something worth staring at?”

Your stomach flipped. “Don’t act like you’re not already.”

He choked out a laugh, running a hand over his mouth, but his eyes, dark, locked on you, betrayed him. “I can’t stop imagining…” He trailed off, shook his head, then let out a nervous, broken laugh. “Never mind.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was charged, electric, daring. His gaze flicked down, your tank top, your thighs, the waistband of your shorts, and you swore you felt it like a touch.

You swallowed hard.

Then his hand moved, slowly, and he patted himself over his shorts, a faint hiss slipping past his lips at the contact. He wasn’t even trying to hide it, his eyes stayed on yours the whole time.

The outline of him was obvious, straining against the thin fabric, and the way his fingers curled around himself had your breath catching in your throat. Heat surged through you, pooling low in your stomach, until you couldn’t stand anymore.

Your own hand drifted down, mirroring his, pressing against the damp heat between your thighs. His lips parted when he saw, chest heaving.

“Oh, shit…” he whispered, stroking himself now, slow and shaky.

You nodded, your fingers slipping under the waistband of your shorts, your touch clumsy at first but growing bolder when his jaw clenched, when his breath hitched harder.

You swore the room grew smaller, hotter, every second. The quiet was deafening, filled only with the slick sounds of him stroking himself and your uneven breaths. The carpet prickled under your bare thighs, grounding you in a way you didn’t want, because everything else in your body was floating, pulling toward him.

His eyes stayed locked on yours, wide and almost disbelieving, like he couldn’t believe you were both really doing this again. Every time your lashes fluttered shut, his voice was there, rough, low, “Don’t stop… don’t look away.”

Your fingers slipped deeper, the little gasp that tore from your throat wasn’t meant to be heard, but he did. His rhythm stuttered, a strangled groan breaking from him, his head tipping back for just a second before snapping forward again, watching you like a man starved.

He could see the little hitch in your breath as your fingers moved lower. And you could see his hand, working himself under his shorts, the outline of his cock straining against the thin fabric.

It should’ve been enough. The deal was clear: no sex. To pretend it was just this. But it wasn’t. enough. Not tonight.

“Ji…” Your voice cracked on his name. “I– I need more.”

Before you could think twice, before either of you could talk yourselves out of it, you reached forward. In one swift motion, you pulled his hand away from his shorts and dragged yourself into his lap.

He froze, breath caught, hands hovering like he didn’t know where to put them. And then, like he couldn’t help himself, his arms locked tight around your waist.

Your chest pressed into his as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, arms looped around his shoulders like you were clinging for dear life. His scent was everywhere, soap and heat and him, and the way his breath hitched only made the fire in your stomach worse.

But you were already moving. Your hips rolled forward, slow and desperate, dragging yourself against the hard line of him under his shorts. The friction was dizzying, sharp, too little and too much all at once.

He gasped, almost a choke, his fingers digging into your waist before he caught himself. His grip loosened instantly, like he was afraid of breaking the one fragile rule between you.

“Is this—” you whispered, shaky, pressing your mouth against his shoulder. “Is this okay? Just… this.”

His jaw clenched so hard you could feel it against your temple. “Fuck…” His voice was ragged, almost broken, and yet his hands hovered uselessly in the air, fists tightening, opening, tightening again as you ground down harder. “Yeah”

You could feel him pulsing against you through the thin layers of fabric, every shift of your hips drawing out a low, shaky sound from his chest. You were panting now, thighs trembling, and he was matching your rhythm without even meaning to, the two of you caught in a loop that neither wanted to stop.

Your whole body was burning. Your breath came shallow, shaky, as you rocked harder into him, the thin cotton of your shorts dragging against his, dragging against him. The sound of it, low fabric friction, the little whimpers you couldn’t hold back, the strangled groans he tried to bite down, filled the room more than the summer heat.

“Holy shit,” Jisung rasped, head falling back against the couch. His lips were parted, sweat glistening at his hairline. “You’re—” he swallowed, voice breaking, “—you’re killing me.”

You whimpered in reply, hips rolling with more urgency, and his hands flexed uselessly at your sides. He wasn’t sure if he could touch you, and his restraint only made him twitch harder beneath you, straining against his shorts.

Then, his voice dropped lower. “Can I—” he sucked in a breath, shaky, “can I take them off? Just your shorts. Please.”

“The underwear stays,” he rushed to add, voice wrecked but sure. “I swear. Just… I need to feel you closer. Just this much.”

You closed your eyes, biting your lip, the ache between your thighs making the decision for you. With trembling hands, you pushed the waistband down, lifting your hips just enough to slide them off. His eyes never left you, his chest heaving, jaw clenched like he was in pain.

“Mine too,” he muttered suddenly, voice low and ragged, already tugging his shorts down his thighs. His boxers clung to him, soaked through at the tip, a dark wet patch spreading where his precum had leaked. He was rock hard, straining against the thin fabric, every outline visible, and you couldn’t stop staring.

And then you sat back down on him, only the thin, damp fabric of your underwear keeping you apart. The difference made you gasp, loud and broken, your nails digging into his shoulders. He let out a guttural moan, so desperate it shook through both of you.

“Oh, fuck, baby…” he groaned, hips jerking up involuntarily to meet yours. “That’s it. Just like that. F-fuck— keep going.”

Baby. He had called you that before, always in a mocking tone, the way best friends threw names around to tease. But this time? This time it felt different, low and raw and wrecked, and your whole body lit up even more, heat flashing through you at the sound of it.

You rolled again, slower this time, savoring the sharp, wet drag, the way the head of him pressed right against your swollen clit through your panties. The slick sound between you was undeniable now.

“Shit—” his voice cracked as his head fell forward, lips brushing against your ear without meaning to. “You’re soaking me through. You—” he gasped when you ground down harder, “you like this that much?”

You whimpered, clenching around nothing, grinding like your body was chasing something more. “Yes… Ji, I—fuck, I need—”

His answer was another choked moan, hips meeting yours in a rougher rhythm now, his self-control fraying with every drag of your bodies.

Your hips rolled harder, chasing friction, and the pace between you turned messy, uncontrolled. His hands slipped beneath your tank top, fingers splaying against the hot skin of your back, holding you tighter like he couldn’t stand even an inch of distance.

You didn’t care. You wanted him closer, way closer.

Lifting your head from where it had been tucked into the curve of his neck, you leaned up until your lips brushed against his ear. The words didn’t come, just a moan, shameless and breathy, spilling straight into him.

The sound wrecked him.

“Shit,” he whined, high and desperate, clutching at you with trembling hands, dragging your body harder against his. His hips stuttered up, meeting you rougher, guiding your waist in erratic pushes. “Don’t— don’t do that to me—”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, your forehead pressing to the side of his head, both of you gasping through the hot, wet drag of fabric on fabric.

“Fuck, Jisung—” you moaned again, louder. His voice cracked on another whimper, breath catching as he forced your hips down against the rigid, soaked outline of him.

“You’re—ah, fuck—you’re driving me crazy,” he choked, his tone shaky and pitched high, every ounce of restraint gone. “Do it again. Please—moan for me again.”

Every nerve in your body was lit, every drag of his cock under his underwear sending shocks through you. The wet heat between your thighs made your panties cling, sticky, unbearable, and still you ground harder, chasing that edge.

“Ji—fuck—” you whimpered, breath breaking against his ear.

That was all it took. His hands clutched you tighter, forcing your hips down in a frantic rhythm, his thighs trembling under you. “Yeah? You’re close, aren’t you?” His voice cracked with it, whiny and rushed. “I can feel you—god, I can feel how bad you need it—”

You were already gone.

Your body tensed, a desperate cry slipping from your throat as your orgasm tore through you, thighs clenching tight around his hips, grinding helplessly against him while you came. You buried your face in his neck, muffling the broken sounds spilling from your mouth, your whole body shuddering in his arms.

Jisung was wrecked by it, by the feel of you convulsing against him, by the hot wetness soaking through your panties and spreading over his cock. His hips snapped up wildly, chasing, needing. “Fuck, fuck—don’t stop, please don’t stop—”

He was loud now, gasping and whining, rocking against you harder until he broke apart too. His cock throbbed in his underwear, spilling hot and sticky between you both, soaking the already-dark patch at the front of his briefs. He clung to you through it, voice pitched high as he moaned your name into your shoulder.

The room fell quiet except for the sound of your heavy breaths, your bodies still rocking lazily, more aftershocks than rhythm now.

Just sweat, tangled limbs, and the sharp, sweet sting of knowing you had just crossed a line you couldn’t uncross.

“Oh, fuck, Jisung. Just for fun, huh?” You were still catching your breath when Jisung finally slumped back against the couch, chest heaving, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. You stayed straddling his lap, too dazed to move, but the ridiculous grin tugging at his lips made you groan.

“Don’t,” you warned, pointing a shaky finger at him.

He tilted his head, wide-eyed, all fake innocence. “Don’t what? Congratulate you? Because—wow—you sound like a goddamn dream when you cum.”

“Han Jisung!” you smacked his shoulder, heat rising to your cheeks.

“What? You want me to lie? Pretend you didn’t almost break my neck grinding down on me like that?”

You covered your face with both hands, whining into your palms. “This is literally the worst idea ever.”

“And yet…” His hands slid up your sides, playful, not really touching but close enough to remind you of what just happened. “…best orgasm I’ve had in months.”

You peeked through your fingers. “That’s depressing.”

“That’s honesty,” he shot back, grinning wider. Then he leaned in, voice dropping into a teasing whisper. “Also… you owe me new shorts. Pretty sure you ruined these.”

You shoved at his chest, but he just laughed harder, holding you in place so you couldn’t escape.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, trying not to smile.

“Impossible and hot,” he corrected, smug. “Don’t forget that part.”

And despite yourself, you laughed too, tangled up in him, sticky and messy and more comfortable than you should be.

Eventually, you peeled yourself off his lap, legs shaky as you stood. “Okay, I’m disgusting,” you said, tugging at your tank top. “I’m gonna shower before I actually stick to these.”

Jisung leaned back, arms draped over the couch, eyes still glued to you in that lazy post-release haze. You rolled your eyes at him and, just to mess around, tossed over your shoulder, “You could always hop in with me.”

That snapped him upright, his laugh coming out sharp and disbelieving. “Ha—don’t joke like that.”

“You’d faint before the water even got warm.”

“Yeah, sure,” he called back, muttering under his breath as he grabbed a cushion to shove over his lap.

—

Steam clung to your skin as you stepped out of the bathroom, hair damp, droplets trailing down your legs. You hadn’t bothered with much, just one of your shirts, the hem barely covering your hips, as you padded barefoot toward your bedroom to grab clean panties.

Jisung was spread across the couch, one arm over the backrest, phone in his hand. His eyes flicked up casually, and then widened, head snapping forward like he had been slapped.

“Fucking hell,” he blurted, sitting up straighter. “What are you doing? You can’t do that!”

You blinked at him, pausing mid-step. “Do what?”

“Do what?” His voice cracked. “You’re naked!”

You glanced down at yourself, then back at him with a scoff. “Well, sorry! I’m on my way to get a new panties. You’re the one that shouldn’t be looking that much.”

But he was. His gaze kept darting down, catching the glimpse of your ass every time the shirt shifted, the bare curve of you almost giving him more than he could handle. He groaned, dragging a hand down his face, as if that would erase the image already seared into his brain.

And that’s when you noticed. He was still in just his boxers, and… hard.

Your lips curled, mischief sparking. “Ji…” cocking your head as your eyes dropped to his lap. “Seriously? Again?”

His ears turned red instantly. “Shut up,” he muttered, grabbing a cushion like it could save him, but you were already laughing.

“Oh my god, you’re so obvious.”

“You literally walked out here with your ass hanging out!” he shot back, voice high with desperation. “What the hell did you expect?”

“Relax,” you teased, flashing him a grin as you started toward your room. 

“Stop—don’t—” he tried, but you were already slipping into your bedroom, the door swinging halfway shut behind you.

And something inside him snapped.

“Fuck this,” he muttered under his breath, throwing the cushion aside as he pushed off the couch. His legs moved before he could think better of it, padding fast down the hall. The door creaked open under his hand, and there you were, standing by your dresser, shirt riding high as you dug for clean panties.

“What the hell?” you spun, startled, clutching the shirt’s hem down instinctively.

He shut the door behind him, chest heaving. His eyes were dark, hungry, no trace of the lazy teasing from before. “You can’t just—walk around like that—and then leave me—” His voice cracked again, desperate now.

You swallowed, heat prickling under your skin at the sight of him like this. Boxers low on his hips, still straining, his hands flexing like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Jisung…” your voice came out softer, nervous.

“I’m serious,” he rasped, stepping closer. “I can’t—shit, I can’t take it.”

You leaned back against your dresser, pulse hammering, suddenly aware of just how cornered you were by his body heat and his voice. “Ji…”

He dragged a hand through his hair, frustrated, restless, his chest rising and falling too fast. “Look at me,” he said, voice breaking. “I’m pathetic. I didn’t even get to change—” he motioned down at his boxers, at the obvious mess spread across the front. His face twisted, half shame, half hunger. “I’m standing here still fucking wrecked from earlier, and—and I’m still so hard it hurts.”

The confession hit you like a spark to gasoline. Your eyes flicked down before you could stop yourself, taking in the dark patch of dried cum against the fabric, the swollen length beneath it, twitching with every shallow breath he took.

“You don’t get it,” he rushed on, words tumbling out in a desperate stammer. “You come out there in just a shirt, and I—fuck, I can’t stop looking, I can’t stop thinking about it, and it’s killing me. I need—” he choked, whined, the sound raw in his throat, “I need something. Please. Just… anything.”

His voice cracked again on that last word, so small, so undone. He wasn’t the playful best friend anymore, he was begging, almost breaking, standing there in his cum-soaked boxers, staring at you.

You should’ve felt guilty, maybe. He looked wrecked, like he was seconds away from falling to his knees for you. But instead, something hot curled in your stomach, sharper than lust. You loved this, loved seeing Jisung, your Jisung, usually all jokes and easy charm, standing there trembling, begging, wrecked just because of you.

“Anything?” you tilted your head, letting your lips curve slow, wicked.

His breath hitched. “Y-yeah. Please. Just… don’t leave me like this.”

You took a step closer,m, watching the way his eyes blew wide, tracking every move like a starved thing. Then, softly, you tsked. “Poor Ji. All messy, and still begging for more.” Your gaze flicked down, lingered on the obvious bulge, the sticky patch darkening the front of his boxers. “You’d do anything if I asked, wouldn’t you?”

He whimpered, the sound punched out of him, and nodded too fast. “Yes. Fuck, yes—I would, I swear, just… please.”

“Careful, Ji,” you murmured, voice low, teasing. “Keep begging like that and I might start to think you actually belong to me.”

He swallowed hard, eyes locked on yours, and whispered hoarsely, “Maybe I already do.”

“No, you don’t. You’re my bestie, remember?” you said it soft, eyes cutting into him with a sharpness that had nothing to do with innocence.

“Right. Yeah, I know. Fuck, I know,” Jisung muttered, running a hand through his hair, looking absolutely destroyed. His voice cracked on the last word.

“But?” you pressed, not letting him off the hook.

He froze, caught in the way you were staring, like you already knew exactly what he was about to say, and you were daring him to say it anyway. His eyes pitiful, wide, the most vulnerable you had ever seen him.

And then, as if to pour gasoline on the fire, you didn’t even bother hiding what you were about to do. You reached for the new panties. 

He didn’t blink. Couldn’t. His jaw slackened as the fabric slid up your thighs, catching high on your hips. Every second of it, he was looking, openly, hungrily, the thick line of him pushing against his boxers, obscene and desperate.

“Fucking hell,” he hissed, voice tight. “Are you doing this on purpose? All this bestie talk and then—doing this slowly, right in front of me?” His fists clenched, knuckles white where they gripped at his thighs. “You know what you’re doing to me.”

You tugged the panties up the rest of the way, smoothing the waistband against your hip like you weren’t putting on a show, but you knew damn well you were. His eyes tracked every movement, breath coming harder with each second you ignored how ruined he looked.

“God, you’re killing me,” he muttered, voice wrecked, like he hated himself for saying it but couldn’t stop.

You tilted your head, pretending innocence. “Killing you? I’m just getting dressed, Ji.”

“Don’t—” his voice broke, and he bit his lip, shaking his head. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?” you asked, dragging it out, stepping just close enough for him to feel the weight of your presence without touching. His chest heaved, eyes darting down your body and back up to your face, as if he couldn’t decide where to look. You smiled then, sweet and devastating, “What’s wrong, Jisungie?”

He actually whimpered. Shoulders slumping, thighs pressing together, his hands fisting uselessly on his lap. “F-fuck—don’t call me that right now. Please.”

But the way he leaned toward you, the way his whole body responded to the name, you knew he loved it. He was completely undone, standing there in nothing but his boxers, cock straining and leaking again, looking at you like you held every shred of control over him.

“Aw,” you teased, “You’re adorable.”

His head fell back against the doorframe with a groan, raw and desperate. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he asked, voice strained, pupils blown wide.

“Of course I am,” you shot back, lips curling, the confidence rolling off you in waves.

He was still looking at you, devouring you, like he was almost ready to drop to his knees if that’s what it took. And you? You leaned in, catching him off guard.

“Come here,” you whispered, tugging him forward by the shoulders until he stumbled into you.

It was just a hug, should’ve been, at least. You had hugged a thousand times before. But this wasn’t the same. Not when your arms slid over his shoulders, your chest pressed against his, and his arms wrapped around your waist with a grip so desperate it nearly stole your breath.

“You're making this way too hard” you murmured, but the sound melted into your throat when he squeezed tighter, harder.

You felt him, hot and heavy against your lower stomach, straining through his boxers, pressed flush into your skin. His breath hitched at the contact, and your nails dug into his shoulder blades without thinking.

“Fuck,” he groaned into your neck, muffled, ruined. “You have no idea.”

But the way your lips ghosted over his ear, the way your body curved into his on instinct? You knew exactly what you were doing.

Your lips brushed his neck first, just the faintest press of warmth against his skin, enough to make him shiver. He gasped, clutching your waist tighter as if the sound alone might tether him.

“Don’t—” his voice cracked, pitiful. “Don’t do that unless you mean it.”

But you only smiled against his skin, trailing higher, letting your breath fan over his jaw. Then you pulled back, slowly, your hand sliding up to grab his face, tilting it toward you.

And there he was. So close. So goddamn close. His breath mixed with yours, shaky and uneven, his lips parting like he was seconds away from forgetting every rule you had ever made together.

You hovered there, teasing, brushing your lips just close enough to make him choke on a sound. His eyes fluttered shut for a heartbeat, then snapped open again, desperate.

“Please,” he whispered, so broken it almost undid you on the spot.

Your grin widened, wicked. “Well… kissing definitely isn’t having sex.”

That was all it took.

He closed the distance, and the second your lips touched, he melted. A wreck. He kissed you like he had been starved for years, messy and frantic, lips crashing against yours in a rhythm that was nothing but need. His hands slid up your back, fingers digging in like he couldn’t get you close enough.

He whimpered when you opened your mouth for him, the sound vibrating straight into your chest. His tongue pushed against yours clumsily, greedy, like he didn’t even care how sloppy it was, he just needed more.

“Fuck—” he broke the kiss just long enough to gasp against your mouth, his lips wet, swollen. “You’re gonna kill me, baby.”

You caught his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging just enough to make him moan, high, needy, almost too loud. You swallowed the sound in another kiss, deeper this time, slower, rolling your tongue against his until his thighs shifted under you, restless, seeking friction.

Your own stomach twisted, the heat pooling between your legs sharp and insistent. Each time his breathy whine slipped past your lips, you clenched around nothing, your body aching in sync with his.

His hands slid up to cradle your face, thumbs trembling against your cheeks as if he couldn’t believe this was happening. “Don’t stop,” he begged into your mouth, the words slurred with desperation. “Please, don’t stop.”

And you didn’t.

You devoured him.

You couldn’t stop kissing him, couldn’t stop swallowing every broken moan he poured into your mouth. His lips were swollen, wet, slick with spit, but he didn’t care, and neither did you. Every kiss was messy, frantic, tongues sliding, teeth clashing, breathless whines filling the space between you.

You collapsed onto the bed together, tangled and gasping, his hands everywhere and nowhere at once.

But then he pulled back, panting, pupils blown. “Please,” he rasped, tugging you toward the edge of the mattress. “Sit—sit right here. Please, I need—fuck, I need it.”

You blinked, dazed, but obeyed, sliding to sit on the edge of the bed. Your elbows propped behind you, chest heaving, hair a wild mess. The way he was looking at you made your stomach twist.

He stood between your knees, hands trembling as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of his boxers. You caught a glimpse, red, flushed, leaking, and then he freed himself, fisting the base with a shaky groan.

“Ji—” you started, shocked, but he cut you off, eyes locking with yours as he pumped once, twice, moaning.

“Don’t worry,” he said, voice broken, desperate. “We won’t. I just—fuck, I need this. I need you watching me.”

Your thighs clenched, heat sparking low in your belly as his fist worked over his cock, slick sounds filling the quiet between his needy whines. His eyes never left yours, pleading, glassy, undone.

You swallowed hard, hand trembling as you slid it down between your legs, slipping under your panties. The second your fingers found your clit, you gasped, eyes flying back to his.

He saw. His breath caught, hips jerking into his fist, a guttural sound tearing out of him. “Oh, f-fuck—yes. Please—please, touch yourself for me.”

Your fingers circled faster, slick already coating your hand, the ache unbearable. Every moan that fell from your lips was mirrored by his, every shift of your body matched by the sloppy, desperate pace of his fist. Eyes locked. Bodies shaking. Both of you ruined, chasing release together without ever breaking the rules.

You were drenched, your fingers slick and messy as you rubbed yourself raw. Jisung’s eyes were wild, glazed with need, his fist a blur over his cock as he matched your pace. The room was filled with wet sounds, whines, gasps, both of you right there but still aching for more. It wasn’t enough.

With a sharp groan, he suddenly stilled. His hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist, pulling your fingers away from where you were dripping and swollen.

“Wha—” you tried, breathless, but before you could ask, fuck, he angled forward and pushed the head of his cock against your soaked panties.

You both gasped at the contact.

“Holy shit—” he choked, hips twitching as the thick length slid against your covered slit, the fabric doing nothing to hide how wet you were. Precum mixed with your arousal instantly, making it obscene, messy, almost bare.

Jisung froze, chest heaving, his forehead nearly knocking into yours. He held himself there, trembling, waiting. Just to see. Just to make sure. If you would stop him. If you would say no.

But you didn’t.

You tilted your hips instead, dragging yourself against him, and the sound he made, broken, whiny, shot straight through you.

“Oh, fuck—” he gasped, voice wrecked, thrusting forward again. “Baby… it’s so wet—feels like you’re—fuck—”

The thin barrier of your panties was nothing now, every grind making you both moan louder, desperate and messy, so close to crossing the line completely it barely mattered anymore.

He was so hot, so hard, sliding against you in messy, desperate strokes. Every time the head caught on your clit through the soaked fabric, you gasped, hips jerking up into him.

Jisung was a mess above you, sweat curling his hair, lips swollen and shiny, breath tearing out of his chest in ragged moans. He pressed harder, rutting against you like he couldn’t stop himself, the slick sound between you filling the room.

“F-fuck—, you’re soaking me through again—” he gasped, voice high and shaky, his cock grinding so deep into your folds the fabric clung tight to both of you. “It’s like you’re—like I’m already—” His words dissolved into a whine as his hips snapped forward again, harder, chasing it.

You clutched the sheets behind you, arms shaking as you pushed your hips up to meet his. The pressure was unbearable, the drag so wet it felt bare, like every inch of him was sliding right against your swollen clit, against your dripping entrance, against everything you needed filled.

Your moans tangled with his, sloppy and loud, your body arching as he drove himself over you. The outline of his cock was so clear through the drenched fabric you could feel the veins, the thick weight, every ridge dragging against your folds.

And then, you couldn’t take it anymore.

With a shaky hand, you tugged your panties aside. Just a little. Just enough.

Jisung’s breath hitched so sharply it broke into a cry, raw and guttural. “Oh, f-fucking Christ—” His cock slid against you fully now, bare to bare, the wet heat of you coating him instantly.

He nearly collapsed, forehead falling against your shoulder, his entire body trembling as he rutted forward, slower this time, savoring it, moaning into your skin. “I won’t—I won’t go inside, I promise,” he whined, his voice so ruined it made you clench. “I just—please, let me—just like this—fuck—”

You couldn’t even answer. Your mouth opened, but all that came out was a broken moan, your hips lifting, dragging yourself against the length of him in desperate circles, slick and messy, every grind pulling him deeper against your folds.

It felt dangerous. It felt inevitable. It felt like crossing the line, even without him inside you.

Jisung’s thrusts slowed, the frantic pace breaking into something almost reverent. His hand wrapped loosely around the base of his cock, guiding himself as he dragged his tip up your folds, sticky and wet, circling your clit, slipping lower just to hover at your entrance.

Every time the swollen head kissed your hole, your body clenched in reflex, and he whimpered, nose burying into your shoulder. But then, he’d pull away, dragging back up, smearing you open and wet, grinding himself against your clit until your thighs trembled.

“Jisung—” You could barely breathe. The teasing was driving you insane, the thick head catching everywhere but where you needed it most.

He moaned, shaking his head, his voice a broken rasp. “I’m s-sorry, I can’t—I just want to feel all of you, every inch—fuck, you’re—”

But you wanted it too. Needed it.

Your hand slid down, trembling, and he froze when your fingers brushed his cock. Carefully, deliberately, you pressed his tip against you, holding him there as your hips rolled up to meet him.

The gasp that tore out of him was wrecked. “Oh—oh my god—baby—” His entire body jerked forward, his cock twitching hard against your hold. You dragged him higher, rubbing him through your slick folds, pressing down so he dragged against you as if he were fucking you, thick, heavy, perfect.

His head tipped back, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut as he moaned your name. “Yes—like that—just like that—holy fuck, you’re—” His words dissolved into a whine as his hips rocked helplessly into the pressure of your hand guiding him, each stroke hitting your clit and folds so perfectly it felt like he was inside without crossing the line.

You couldn’t stop, not with how good it felt, the friction sharper, deeper, every grind soaking him more, every roll of his hips making you both choke on the sound of it. Your panties clung uselessly at the side, your thighs spread wide, and he was rutting against you like you were the only thing he had ever wanted.

His voice broke, desperate and raw. “Please don’t stop—don’t ever stop—fuck, I’m so close, baby, I can’t—”

The rhythm turned ragged, messy, both of you grinding harder, faster, no restraint left. Your fingers held his tip flush against your folds, every roll of his hips making him drag thick and heavy across your clit, catching perfectly, sparks firing in your stomach.

“Baby—oh my god, shit—” His voice broke on a sob of a moan, forehead pressed to yours, sweat slicking his temples. He was rutting against your hand, against you, helpless, chasing it with every ounce of his body.

“Ji—fuck, Ji, don’t stop—” You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, your whole body tightening as his cock slid and caught exactly where you needed it. The obscene sound of it, wet and relentless, only pushed you higher.

And then you shattered. Your body arched up against him, a strangled cry ripping from your throat as you came, soaking him, thighs trembling around his hips.

The second he felt you clench and shake, Jisung broke. His hips jerked hard, his cock grinding desperately against you one, two more times before he let out a strangled cry, spilling hot and messy all over your folds, your stomach, your panties tugged to the side.

“Fuckfuckfuck—” His words dissolved into gasps as he collapsed forward, cock still twitching against your drenched skin, rutting through the aftershocks because he couldn’t stop, not yet.

You held his face against your neck, both of you panting, bodies sticky and trembling, ruined together.

When he finally stilled, chest heaving, he whispered against your skin, voice raw and wrecked, “That… that was… too good. I can’t—” He laughed weakly, still clinging to you. “We’re so fucked. I’m so fucked.”

You let out a breathless laugh, brushing damp hair off his forehead. “I think it would be easier if we just have sex already. This is insane.”

His head snapped up, eyes blown wide, mouth dropping open. “Wait—really? You say that now? After—fuck, after that?” His voice cracked in disbelief, half-whiny, half-hungry, still. “Shit, don’t play with me like that, I can’t get hard again already.”

You just giggled, tilting your head, smug.

He groaned, collapsing against your chest again, hiding his face. “God, I’m being pathetic again, aren’t I?” His voice was muffled, small, wrecked.

You traced a lazy line down his back, grinning at the way he shivered under your touch. “Mm… yeah. A little.”

“Shit, I'm fucked.”

—

+++ authors note: idk why it's called dry humping i'm personally really fucking wet about it...

✧ thank you for reading my stuff!! you can check out my intro + masterlist post to find all my works in one place. ✧ want to be tagged when i post? drop your comment in my taglist post

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[wonump3]

dumb pretty princess | csc (m)

your bodyguard is tired of you leaving his sight, so he has to teach you a listening lesson.

Pairing | bodyguard!seungcheol x celeb!reader

Genre + warnings | Smut, pwp, dom!seungcheol, reader is obsessed with his arms, a bit of degradation (nothing too extreme), he calls her dumb/stupid a couple of times, praising, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, choking, petnames (sweetheart, princess, pretty, baby)

Word count | 2.7K ♡ 11 min read

Request | Could you write something with Seungcheol dom, nsfw? It could be a headcanon, ir whatever you feel comfy.

Notes | Seungcheol pls choke me too _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

You had almost 2 years of having known Seungcheol, after a reckless fan tried to tackle you during a charity red carpet, your management decided to hire a highly trained professional to keep you safe. He followed behind you everywhere at all times, at this point he followed you quicker than your own shadow.

Despite spending almost 24 hours together, Seungcheol wasn’t a man of many words. All that would come out of his mouth were commands and reprimands when you weren’t being careful enough. You don’t know much about the man other than the fact that he was a former secret service agent and that he is absolutely breathtaking—quite distracting to be honest. There was no known wife or girlfriend, clearly due to his job of being with you all day, which was such a shame that someone that hot wasn’t being loved as he should.

He was equally annoying as he was hot, always scolding you for walking a little too far from his view without previous notice. Which brings you to the current situation, you sat on the couch in your living room while he scolds you.

You had been walking around the park when in a blink of an eye you were gone, sending him into full defense mode. He has wandered around the park until he spotted you petting a stray cat as the sun was threatening to hide for the day.

“You cannot keep doing this.” He says sternly while pacing in front of you, rubbing his fingers into his temples. “I get paid to protect you and you never listen. You cannot keep wandering off when I explicitly tell you not to.”

“I wasn’t even far from you, I just-” he cuts you off with a deep sigh.

“Why is it so hard for you to get it through your head?” Seungcheol stops pacing to cross his arms and stare down at you. “Do you know what ‘don’t wander off’ means? Or do I have to find another way to get it through your head?”

“I don’t know why I even bother with you. At this point I will have to put you in a fucking leash to keep you from getting yourself in danger.” Should he talk to you that way? Probably not, but he was tired of you putting yourself in danger and his job in jeopardy. You should be fuming at the way he is talking to you, but instead you feel your body get warm. Eyes doe looking up at his sharp ones.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He asks a bit too harsh still and you can’t help but eyes him down while biting the inside of your lip. The sleeves of his black button up rolled up his arms, showing the veiny muscles so deliciously.

You hear him scoff before clicking this tongue.

“Are you for real right now?” He lowers himself to meet your eyes, his hands resting on his knees. “Are you listening? Or is that pretty dumb head of yours imagining other things like always?”

“What do you-” just as you were about to question him, he cuts you off with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Do you think I don’t notice half of the times I talk to you, you just stare at my arms?” He questions, a lazy smirk threatening to fall on his lips. “I live here, remember? Do you think I can’t hear you touching yourself at night? Moaning my name before slapping a hand above that filthy mouth of yours to keep quiet?”

You are sure your face is ten shades red under his gaze and you are sure he can tell every single word he spits is making you clench around nothing. His taunting tone makes you feel small and stupid and you absolutely love it. You should deny ever touching yourself to the thought of his mouth and fingers, but there is no point in lying when he has heard you himself—yet you still try.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” You breath out weakly, looking away.

“Oh yeah?” The man kneels in front you, but you refuse to look at him. “So I imagined the sounds of you panting? I imaged the sounds of your fingers fucking that wet pussy of yours? I imagined you moaning my name, pleading to go faster? Is that what you are saying?”

Your gaze finds focus on the rug beneath your feet.

“Now you decide finally shut up?” He chuckles a scoff before grabbing your jaw and forcing you meet his eyes. “Is that how I can finally get you to listen? Do I need to fuck common sense into you?”

Your legs rub tightly together before you can even think about it, a small whimper falling off your lips at the mere mention of him fucking you.

“Mmm, so that’s what you want, princess?” He tuts, “you want me to teach you how to be obedient?”

Your lips act faster than your brain and “Yes…” you breathe. “Please…”

Seungcheol smirks as his grip leaves your jaw to grab at your legs and spread them open. The skirt of your dress bunches up at your hips when he swiftly throws your heel cladded legs over his shoulders.

He wastes no time pressing his mouth on your clothed center, kissing right over your clit, eliciting a whimper from you.

“Look at this, so fucking wet.” He keeps a tight grip on your thighs as he licks up a stripe above your baby pink thong, the thin fabric allowing the wet muscle to touch your outer labia.

“Fuck, Seung-” a moan escapes your lips when you feel his thumb hook on the fabric so he lick your cunt. “Your mouth feels so good…”

He hums against it, tongue working skillfully on your wet entrance before dragging up so he can suck your clit sharply.

“Yeah?” His fingers leave your thigh to enter your gaping hole, immediately clenching around them. “Is it how you imagined every night, princess?”

“S-so much b-etter!” You scream when you feel his digits curl, touching your sensitive spot perfectly.

He smirks at your response biting your inner thigh before speaking up.

“I thought you said that didn’t happen.” You whine and cover your face, making him laugh. His free hand immediately move to swat away your hands, while the other continues scissoring inside your warm walls. “Now don’t cover that dumb pretty face of yours. I want to see you cry for me.”

You force your eyes open to look at him, his eyes already heavy on your face and his mouth sloppily kissing down your thigh until they are close to your sensitive bud again. His eyes never leave yours, even when he feels you clench hard as he approaches your clit, and less when your jaw falls slack, drool dropping down your chin and on your expensive dress and his tongue darts out to play with your clit. Your moans only grow louder as his fingers move faster and his lips suck on your clit sloppily.

“Are you gonna cum already, princess?” He taunts, kissing your wet cunt while your hips squirm under his heavy hand. “Is that stupid mouth of yours not gonna answer?”

All you can do is clench around him as you feel your orgasm build as he calls you stupid.

“Too bad, stupid girls don’t get to cum.” His fingers left your pussy as you whine loudly, tears already forming in your eyes. “Take your dress off.” He commands as he bring his fingers taht were onve inside you to his mouth, humming darkly at the sweet taste.

You oblige with shaky hands, his own removing your thong completely, joining your sparkly dress on the floor. His shirt followed, finally revealing his mouth watering chiseled torso and huge arms. His lips kiss your cunt again before moving up your torso until they find your tits.

“Of course you are not wearing a bra. You never are.” Your long nails claw softly at his shoulders. “Always tempting me with these pretty tits, baby, aren’t you?” Another moan falls from your lips as he swirls his tongue around your nipple, toying with the perked up bud before sucking it into his mouth.

Seungcheol suddenly stands, quickly undoing his belt and dress pants, leaving them to fall next to your discarded dress. Your hands quickly move to curl at the waistband of his underwear to remove it but he swats at your hands again.

“Put that pretty mouth to good use and remove them with your teeth.” You obey and quickly after your teeth are sinking into the flesh of his v-line as they slide to remove his briefs. His cock hits your face as soon as it springs free, earning a whine from you.

“Make yourself useful for once and get me ready to fuck your cunt.” You shudder at his deepened voice. “Your pussy is wet enough to slide in easily but I want you to choke on my cock before I choke you with my arms, though you’ll have to beg for it before, princess.”

He slaps his heavy length on your cheek, moving it to tap at your lips where you open instantly, feeling him heavy on your tongue. Your jaw falls slack as you try to fit him as much as you can, the thick girth making you dizzy.

“Such a pretty little dumb slut, aren’t you, princess?” You hum around his cock, looking up at him while your tongue flattens to rub the underside of his length as you bob your head slowly. “That’s what that mouth is good for, taking my cock so well.”

You can’t help but rub your legs together, Seungcheol chuckles at the sight and pulls your mouth away from his cock before pulling up you to stand. Your feet wobble in your sparkly heels when you stand, hands grabbing at his biceps. His hand comes down to spank your ass sharply, a yelp of his name leaving your lips.

“I should punish you for wandering off today, princess.” Another smack. “Should teach you a lesson for never listening to me.”

“Cheol, please…” your face presses against his firm chest.

“Please what, princess? Let’s use that brain of yours and make out complete sentences, yeah?”

“I want you inside me, please.”

“But you don’t deserve that, sweetheart, now do you?” He cups your face to make you look at him, his lips coming down to kiss your jaw tenderly before another smack of his hand startles you.

“Please!” You beg, “I promise I will listen to you, but I need you to fuck me so bad.”

He chuckles, his lips lingering on your jaw move to kiss your own softly. The kiss quickly turns heated as he pulls your hair and dips his tongue to play with yours, slowly guiding you to kneel with him after turning you around so your back is pressed against his chest.

As soon as your knees hit the rug his arm circles around your neck, the strong muscle keeping you locked flush against him, softly cutting a bit of oxygen from your lungs. How many times had you dreamt about this exact scenario? You lost count of them, the memory of your fingers choking your own neck wishing it was him was the only thing left as he lines himself up with your soaked entrance.

In a single swift move he is deep inside your cunt, knocking all air out of you. A strained scream leaves your lips as your eyes roll back when he groans deeply at your ear.

“So tight, sweetheart. This pussy was made just for me, princess.” Seungcheol bites softly at your exposed jaw. “Beg for it, pretty. Tell me how much you want me to ruin you for any other man.”

Another scream leaves your throat, the only thing in your mind is his cock splitting you open and his huge bicep headlocking you.

“Please, fuck me! I want you to fuck me deep and hard, baby. Please, Seungcheol, I need you!” Your nails claw at his arm, but he knows better than to let go.

His hips start moving slowly, the drag of the veins on his cock against your gummy walls feel absolutely amazing. His pace quickly starts picking up, a deep growled laugh leaves his throat when he feels something wet drip down his forearm and he knows for a fact it is you drooling again.

“Such a pretty pussy, baby. You’re swallowing me so perfectly, princess.” He kisses your cheeks and you realize there were tears slipping past your closed eyelids. “You’re doing such a good job, sweetheart. You’re making me feel so good, pretty.”

Your eyebrows knit together, whines fall from your lips as you feel his voice grow further and further away.

“Cheollie, I feel so f-full.”

“Yeah baby? Do you like being full with my cock?” His hips slow in speed but deepen in thrusts, hitting your g-spot lusciously. “If I would’ve known this is what it took to make you listen, I would’ve fucked this tight pussy a long time ago.”

The man chuckles lazily when you clench around him again.

“Are you close, princess?” You manage to nod faintly. “Promise me you will listen from now on if you want me to fuck you good and let you cum.”

“I p-promise! Mmm, I will obey everything you tell me from now on, please! Just, I need to cum on your cock, please, Cheollie, please!” His skin shivers at how quickly you complied with what he asked.

His hips piston swiftly, making your legs tremble as your climax approaches. A cry escapes from your lips.

“I know, sweetheart. You’ve been such a good girl, pretty. C’mon baby, cum around me.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth a scream of his names resonates around the living room, your toes curl in your heels and hear your arousal leak out of you and unto the rug. His hand’s on your hip tightens.

“Such a good girl, look at this mess, princess.” He loves the way your climax squirts all over his thighs and the floor beneath. As he moves to pull out, he feels your hand circle back and claw as his ass, whining.

“Cum inside me, Ch-Cheollie, p-please.” He throws his head back with a groan and picks up the pace as he nods. “Kiss m-me.”

“So needy.” He smirks, his arm loosens up a bit around your neck to let you twist back a little to let his lips clash with yours again. His plump lips feel like heaven against yours, small whimpers vibrating against your mouth as he approaches his own orgasm. “Perfect little pussy made just for me. I’m gonna fill you up to the brim, pretty.”

You feel a second orgasm wash over you when his hot cum spurts inside your walls, making you feel impossibly full. Full and hot and sticky and fucked out—all thanks to your hot bodyguard.

“Good job, baby, you did so well for me.” He lowers your bodies unto the soft rug, pulling you closer to his chest if that’s even possible. All you can do is hum softly for him.

After a beat of silence you speak up again, his lips pressing to your shoulders.

“I’m sorry for not listening, Cheol.” You say, fingers playing with his that circle your waist. “I didn’t realize I was making your job harder.”

“Don’t apologize, princess.” He kisses the crook of your neck now. “It is my job to look after you, I should always keep an eye on you, even if you wander off to pet every damn cat you see on the street.” He chuckles and you mirror his laugh.

“I promise I will pull you with me next time I see a cat.” He laughs louder now. “Unless not listening makes you fuck me again. Then I won’t ever listen to you. Never.”

“Wouldn’t you like that, baby?” He bites your shoulder. “Now that I remember, last week you ran off too. Maybe I should punish you for that right now.”

WONUMP3 2025

[hanlust-deactivated20260202]

LET THIS BE A SECRET . . !   ꢾ𓍢ִ໋　 ⁽ 한지성 ⁾

pairing: loser!han jisung x f!reader, roommates au genre/tags: smut, ji is a huge perv and a weirdo, panty kink, masturbation, brief mention of voyeurism, there’s probably more but i’m too lazy to add them

[ note. ] — if you’ve read this before do not be alarmed, this is a repost from my old acc but it never showed up in tags smh 💔

loser roommate!jisung who clearly has a porn addiction but conceals it surprisingly well. he keeps to himself most of the time, rarely, if ever leaves his room unless he absolutely has to, and always keeps his door locked. he barely talks to you and never looks you in the eye— just mumbles out a soft “hey” with his head down if you catch him in the kitchen or brush past him in the hallway. you thought he was just the type who takes his studies seriously, nobody would ever guess he jerks off at least five times a day.

loser roommate!jisung who watches everything from hentai, to camgirls, reddit threads, twitter porn, and OF leaks. he’s constantly gooning, always hard, and when he’s not watching porn, he’s thinking about it. goes out of his way to scour hundreds of sites to find vids that look exactly like you. same body type, skin tone, hairstyle, even down to the fucking nail color. has a whole folder labeled ‘y/n’ and scrolls through it with one hand down his pants, biting his shirt so you don’t hear his whines through the paper-thin walls.

loser roommate!jisung will spend hours trying to find the right clips but sometimes he gets frustrated and just gives up, slamming his laptop shut and pulls up your instagram instead. he’ll look through old posts, zoom in on your thighs, your chest, your mouth and edge himself all night, staring at the screen, hips stuttering, chest rising and falling fast while he tries not to moan your name.

loser roommate!jisung who closes his eyes and starts picturing you when the vids start getting too boring. he’ll envision you sitting on his face, riding his cock, gagging on him in the middle of the night. his hand only working faster the more vivid the scenario in his head becomes.

loser roommate!jisung is so far gone he gets hard just hearing your footsteps. the way you hum while cooking? jerks off to that. the way you say “good morning” half-asleep? jerks off to that too. he’s obsessed with every part of you. he’ll peek into the living room while you’re on facetime with someone just so he can hear your voice clearer, then replay it in his mind while he’s under the covers rutting into his fist.

loser roommate!jisung steals your panties at least once a week, sometimes twice if he’s feeling a little risky. he knows your laundry schedule better than you do. he’ll wait until you’re gone or in the shower, then grabs the ones he know you just wore. the warm, still-scented ones and presses them to his nose, letting out the filthiest little whimper while his cock throbs miserably.

loser roommate!jisung has fucked your panties on numerous occasions. wraps them around his shaft, humps into them, the texture of the lace against his cock always adds more friction to the sensation. gets off harder when he imagines you catching him with it stuffed in his mouth. even uses your bras to muffle the whiny sounds while he finishes messily, cum dripping over his knuckles, shaking all over and panting like he just ran a marathon. he knows how disgusting he is. he just doesn’t seem to care anymore.

loser roommate!jisung who has full-on pervy fantasies about you every single day. watches you sip drinks and imagines you spitting in his mouth, can’t help but stare at your lips while you talk and wonders how they’d look wrapped around his cock. thinks about how wet it would feel, how far he could make you take him, would you cry from choking on it?? he wants to see it. he’s never kissed anyone before, but he wants you everywhere. wants your tongue in his mouth, your legs around his head, he wants to be the reason you’re whining and dripping and ruined.

loser roommate!jisung thinks about the way you walk around in booty shorts and just a tank top, wearing no bra so he could the outline of your nipples poking out. he memorizes every curve, the way your tits bounce or your thighs jiggle and uses those exact movements in his jerkoff sessions. when he hears your bed creak or your vibrator buzz? he gets so hard it hurts. presses his ear to the wall with his cock already out, imagining what your pussy looks like when you cum. were you a squirter or a creamer? doesn’t matter. either way, he strokes himself slow and sloppy, listening in like a fucking creep.

loser roommate!jisung has stolen more than just underwear at this point. he’s used your lotion before, once found a used tissue in the bathroom trash and took it just to see if it smelled like you, absolutely no shame when he’s horny. even thought about sneaking into your room while you’re asleep. just standing there. staring. maybe sniffing your sheets. rubbing himself while you breathe softly, blissfully unaware. he’d never actually do it… probably.

loser roommate!jisung thinks about your moans all the time and what they’d sound like. how you’d whimper if he sucked your clit or how loud he could make you scream if he ate you out for hours. he needs to eat you out. needs it more than the oxygen that passes through his lungs. just wants your pussy on his face, grinding on his tongue, calling him a good boy. thinks about your taste. how warm it’d be. how wet. he’d cum just from that alone.

loser roommate!jisung has gotten off to the thought of you riding him slow while whispering filthy things into his ear, calling him your “pervy little virgin” while making fun of how easy he cums for you.

loser roommate!jisung wonders how tight you are. how soft. how your cunt would feel wrapped around him. imagines the wetness, the grip, the way you’d milk his cock dry without even trying. even dreams about you. wet dreams, every week. wakes up hard, sticky, and breathless, then immediately jerks off again using whatever’s left from the dream.

loser roommate!jisung has still never got caught and prays it stays that way. if you ever found out the shit he was doing you’d probably move out with the quickness and get a restraining order on him. so he hides all the evidence. makes sure he looks somewhat presentable when he leaves his room, hides your cum-soaked panties, routinely clears his search history. he goons for you nightly— hours and hours, days on end— never getting enough. you’re in his head 24/7 yet he still pretends he’s too shy to ask you how your day was. what a freak…

[myprwttyhan]

crazy i had a loser bf before and this reminded me of him😭 but fr, this ji will lose his mind some day and put some somno between🙏

[leislibrary-deactivated20251224]

Congrats on 1k!!!

If the librarian is alright with it, I would like to ask for a 815.04 (i hope I got it right ^^", smut + smau + friends to lovers with Hannie, if details are okay I would like to ask for han to be a bit needy in love with reader, -bit of a simp if you ask me-, if that makes sense!) Thank you !!

thank you thank you 💗 that one video of han saying “come here baby” was on loop in my head making these <3 hope you like it!! chan / changbin / hyunjin / felix / seungmin / i.n / minho duos: minlix / minsung / hyunchan

checkout details: 815.04 = smut, SMAU, friends to lovers, Han back cover: a collection of texts in which Han is so down bad for you while he's on tour (but you match his loser-ism). smut, MDNI. event announcement & classification system / library catalog

Please visit the library again soon!

graphics by @saradika-graphics