SUNGHOSWIFEYYY

I love BND, Cortis, and lngshot And ALOT of gg’s

[empty-sigh]

dry humping while you moan into my mouth sounds so perfect right now

[traddykes]

i need to get fucked sooooo fucking bad it’s driving me insane i just need someone to push my head down into the pillow and pound this wet pussy until my eyes roll back and i cant speak anymore. the urge to be fucked and bred literally woke me up lord please

[kiswritting]

sexting! zhao yufan x reader | 3am in the studio (MDNI)

dividers by @cafekitsune

@kiswritting (his no.1 slave)

[sin-an]

Waking up next to him, kissing along his neck and cuddling up for warmth, running my hands from his waist to the front of his boxers, palming him until he wakes up whining, begging me to fuck him.

[jameswhoreblog]

i know james is big and veiny asf i need that dick so bad please

[wieqo]

🍰✿ꥍ♡゙ㅤ𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂ᩙ𝖼𝖺 ~ ʝ𝖺𝗉ó꯭𝗇ㅤ·͜·♡

© @kaoemojis

[sunoo4me]

jake nsfw audio

okay, it was a little harder to find but hope you guys enjoy!🤍

you visit jake’s office and immediately he can’t get his hands off you being a good girl for daddy as he uses you and cums all over you as he pleases.

[enhavip]

WHY IS MY BOYFRIEND SUCH A FREAK?

heeseung is just a freaky man who can’t help it

// heeseungx!reader, use of sexy and baby, reader is mentioned having period and ovulating.

[wonhyeonworld]

Warning: wet sounds, jerking off, whimper

Riki audio.(except it actually sounds like him).

Don’t like it? Scroll. Problem solved.

[koineour-deactivated20260519]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤENHYPEN LINKS 🐈‍⬛¹

ㅤNSFW +18 LINKS | (fem!) x member | creampie | kinks

──── HEESEUNG

★ starting the day right

★ he loves seeing you being good to him

★ don't be gentle

──── JAY

★ “can I cum, daddy?”

★ he's starving

★ bondage baby

──── JAKE

★ cum inside me, love

★ making love with lot of love

★ his fingers... oh fuck

──── SUNGHOON

★ you're greedy, aren't you?

★ relaxing your tension

★ his princess deserves the best

──── SUNOO

★ he loves... tits, your tits

★ tastes good

★ treating his good girl well

──── JUNGWON

★ leaving you full of him

★ relaxing on the couch

★ it's deep enough for you, baby?

──── NI-KI

★ riding on your man after a long day

★ “come in my pussy”

★ being rude to his girl

2026 © If the link becomes unavailable, let me know and I will remove it from the list. You need to log in to an X account to access the links. I do not wish to defame the image of any idol featured here. Enjoy!

ㅤ

[wjmlffl]

[angeluvc]

all day. all night. till my jaw dislocates. till my organs fall out. till the neighbours file complaints. till i forget my own name. till i pass out. till i memorise every vein. on the couch. in the bed. kitchen counter. stairs. bathroom. in public. in private. from behind. on top. underneath. tied up. dirty talk. talking through it. gentle. rough. fast. slow. meaningless. love making. dry humping. teasing. every second. every minute. every hour. every week. every month. every year.

[emmzywemmzy]

Louis x reader

Requested

Genre:fluff

Summary: after practice Louis is so tired that he accidentally confesses his feelings for you.

MASTERLIST

Requests are open!!

You know the exact sound of his footsteps.

Not because you’re weird about it—okay, maybe a little—but because Louis never just walks when he’s tired. He drags his sneakers along the hallway like gravity personally has a problem with him, shoulders slumped, hoodie slipping off one side like he forgot how bones work.

So when you hear the familiar shuffle outside your door, you don’t even look up right away.

“You’re late,” you say, eyes still on your phone.

The door opens. Closes. There’s a pause that lasts just a little too long, followed by the softest, most exhausted groan known to mankind.

“Please tell me you have food,” Louis says. His voice is rough, like he’s been counting beats out loud for hours. Which, knowing him, he probably has.

You finally look up.

He looks… wrecked. Hair damp with sweat, cheeks flushed, hoodie sleeves pushed up to reveal forearms tense from practice. His dance bag hangs halfway off his shoulder like he gave up on gravity halfway through walking.

“You look like you fought the floor,” you say.

“The floor fought me,” he mutters, dropping his bag with a thud and immediately walking toward you like you’re magnetic. He doesn’t even ask—just flops down beside you on the couch, shoulder pressing into yours, head tipping forward until his forehead knocks lightly against your shoulder.

There it is.

The clinginess.

You smile despite yourself. “Long practice?”

He hums, eyes already closed. “Don’t ask me to move for at least five minutes.”

“You literally just got here.”

“Exactly.”

You shift slightly so he’s more comfortable, letting his weight lean into you. He sighs like he’s been holding his breath all day, shoulders finally relaxing now that he’s here.

With you.

Your fingers move without thinking, brushing over his hair, fingertips cool against his warm scalp. You’ve done this a hundred times—after hard days, after schedules that don’t leave room to breathe, after moments where the world feels louder than it should.

Best friends, right?

Louis makes a quiet sound, barely there, and leans in more.

“Did you eat?” you ask.

“Does caffeine count?”

You sigh. “Louis.”

“I’ll eat. Later.” He nudges your knee with his own. “Stay.”

“I wasn’t planning on leaving.”

“Good.”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes your chest tighten just a bit.

The room smells faintly like his cologne mixed with sweat and laundry detergent. Comforting. Familiar. Safe.

For a while, neither of you says anything. The TV hums softly in the background, forgotten. His breathing evens out, slow and heavy, like he might actually fall asleep sitting upright if you let him.

You shouldn’t overthink this. You really shouldn’t.

But you do.

You always do.

Because Louis has always been like this—clingy in ways that toe the line between friendship and something dangerously undefined. He reaches for you without thinking. Seeks you out after long days. Texts you before bed just to ask if you ate, if you’re home safe, if you’re okay.

And you let him.

Because if you didn’t, you’re not sure he’d know where to put all that affection.

“You’re really warm,” he murmurs, voice half-asleep.

“You’re literally radiating heat.”

“Dance practice.” He yawns. Then, softer, “I missed you.”

Your hand stills for half a second.

“You saw me this morning,” you say lightly.

“Doesn’t count.”

“Why not?”

He shrugs, cheek brushing your shoulder. “Because I wasn’t tired enough to be honest yet.”

You blink. “What does that mean?”

Louis is quiet for a moment. Too quiet.

Then he laughs softly, like he didn’t mean for that thought to escape. “Nothing.”

You let it go. For now.

Another few minutes pass. His hand shifts, fingers brushing against yours where it rests on the couch. You expect him to pull away.

He doesn’t.

Instead, his pinky hooks around yours. Casual. Unthinking. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Your heart stumbles over itself.

“Louis,” you say quietly

“Mm?”

“You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“The…” You hesitate. “The thing where you forget personal space exists.”

He lifts his head slightly, eyes opening just enough to look at you. Up close, you can see how tired he really is—the faint shadows under his eyes, the crease between his brows that only shows up after long days.

“Oh,” he says. “Sorry.”

But he doesn’t let go.

Actually, he tightens his grip.

You swallow.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you say. “I just—”

“I know,” he interrupts, voice suddenly softer, more careful. “I know.”

Something shifts then. Subtle, but unmistakable. Like the air has changed density.

Louis straightens a little, though he still stays close. His hand remains tangled with yours, thumb brushing back and forth over your knuckle in slow, absent strokes.

You’ve never seen him this quiet.

“I didn’t mean to say that earlier,” he says.

“Say what?”

“That I missed you.” He exhales. “I mean, I did miss you. I just… didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like it matters more than it should.”

Your pulse picks up.

“Louis,” you say gently, “you’re not making any sense.”

He laughs under his breath, tired and helpless. “Yeah. That tracks.”

He leans back again, staring up at the ceiling now, like it’s safer than looking at you. “Dance practice was awful today.”

“I’m sorry,” you say. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing specific.” He rubs a hand over his face. “I just kept messing up. Over and over. And I kept thinking—”

He stops.

You wait.

“I kept thinking about how, every time I come back here,” he continues slowly, “you’re always here. And it’s like… the only time my head shuts up.”

Your chest tightens.

“You calm me down,” he says, like he’s realizing it in real time. “You make everything feel less heavy. And I know I lean on you a lot, and I know that’s not—”

He cuts himself off again, sitting up abruptly now. He finally looks at you, eyes wide like he’s afraid of what he’s already said.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “I’m tired. I’m just talking.”

“Louis,” you whisper.

“I don’t mean to be clingy,” he rushes on. “I just—when I’m with you, it feels right. Too right. And I don’t want to make it weird, because you’re my best friend, and I don’t want to lose that—”

“Hey,” you say, reaching up to gently grab his sleeve. “Look at me.”

He does.

His expression is raw in a way you’re not used to seeing, walls stripped back by exhaustion.

“You’re not making it weird,” you say. “You’re just… being honest.”

He swallows. “That’s kind of the problem.”

Your heart is pounding now.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t think I know how to stop.” His voice drops. “Feeling like this.”

The room is painfully quiet.

“You don’t have to stop,” you say before you can overthink it.

His breath hitches.

“You don’t?” he asks.

You shake your head. “Louis, if you’re clingy, then I wouldn’t still be here if I didn’t want you to be.”

He searches your face, like he’s bracing for the moment you take it back.

“I like you,” he says suddenly. The words tumble out, blunt and unpolished. “I think I have for a while. I just never meant to tell you like this.”

Your chest feels too full.

You squeeze his hand. “I like you too.”

For a moment, he just stares at you. Then—

“Wait,” he says. “You do?”

You laugh softly, nerves buzzing through you. “Yeah. I do.”

He lets out a breath that sounds like relief incarnate and drops his forehead against yours, eyes closing.

“Oh my god,” he murmurs. “I’m so stupid.”

“You’re exhausted,” you correct.

“And whipped,” he adds weakly.

You snort. “Definitely whipped.”

He smiles then, small and genuine, still pressed close. “Can I… stay like this for a bit?”

You tilt your head, brushing your nose lightly against his. “I thought you said you weren’t moving for five minutes.”

He smiles wider. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

He doesn’t kiss you right away. He just stays there, breathing you in like he’s memorizing the moment. Like he’s afraid if he moves too fast, it’ll disappear.

When he finally does lean in, it’s slow and careful, lips brushing yours in a way that feels less like a confession and more like a promise.

And when he pulls back, forehead still resting against yours, he laughs softly.

“So,” he says. “Best friends?”

You smile. “With benefits of emotional honesty?”

“Exactly.”

He squeezes your hand again, clingy as ever.

And this time, you don’t mind at all.

[c-cherish]

⁞ warning: smut

“got something i wanted to show you.”

leehan sits on the edge of the bed, looking up at you with a smile. “what is it?”

you lift your shirt to show him the new bra you bought. cute and lacy, pushing your tits up pretty. and you look at him with an innocent smile unaware of the chaos currently going on in his head. he’s got that buffering symbol on the top of his head.

he looks at the way they just sit so pretty and soft. his hands slowly come up to grab your waist, warm and a bit sweaty. and he looks at you with those sparkling eyes.

“can i touch?”

“please?” you take your shirt off, moving to sit on his lap.

his fingertips ghost over your arms, to the straps slowly pulling them down and pulling the cups down to fully see you.

“wow.” he whispers.

you see the way he’s still hesitating to touch you, hands hovering.

“why are you so nervous to touch me?” you laugh, grabbing his hands so they rest on your chest.

“sorry, um,” he laughs, but his hands still just, sit there.

“leehan!” you whine and throw your head back. “give them a squeeze or something.”

and he does, but then he does more than just squeeze getting this new wave of confidence to pop a tit into his mouth.

“fuck, finally.” you sigh.

he looks up at you and smiles with your nipple in between his teeth. he sucks it back into his mouth, humming around it and pulling away with a pop.

“this what you wanted? wanted my lips all over your tits? that why you bought this pretty bra for me?” he unclasps your bra, letting his hands roam up your back and back to your chest, squeezing them together.

“yeah,” you sigh out, hands making their way into his hair. “love buying cute things for you.”

you look down, his hands still holding your tits together and he leaves a kiss on each one.

“i loved it, baby.”

[emmzywemmzy]

Louis x Reader

Requested

Summary: you and Louis are playing a scary game together and you guys try to not wake up his members.

MASTERLIST

Requests are open!!

It starts, as most bad ideas do, at an hour when everyone with common sense is asleep.

It’s 3:07 a.m., the dorm is dead quiet, and you’re sitting cross-legged on Louis’s bed with your back against the headboard, laptop balanced on your thighs. The only light in the room comes from the screen and the faint glow of the LED strip Louis insists on keeping dimmed to “vibes only.”

Louis is beside you, shoulder pressed to yours, knees drawn up, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands. He looks way too awake for someone who had practice, filming, and a meeting all in the same day.

“This is a terrible idea,” he whispers, voice barely louder than breathing.

You glance at him. “You literally suggested it.”

“I suggested maybe playing something,” he corrects quietly. “Not Roblox horror at three in the morning.”

You grin, already clicking Play. “Too late. You’re committed.”

He groans softly, burying his face into your shoulder for a second before peeking back at the screen. “If Ryul wakes up, he’s actually going to kill us.”

“Ryul sleeps like a rock,” you whisper back.

Louis snorts. “No, Ryul sleeps like a rock until there’s a sound. Then he sleeps like a rock that throws things.”

You both freeze as footsteps pass faintly in the hallway outside. Louis’s hand instinctively clamps over your mouth, and you feel him tense beside you.

The footsteps fade.

He exhales slowly, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “See? We’re already doomed.”

You bite back a laugh, gently pulling his hand away. “Relax. We’ll be quiet.”

“That’s what you said last time,” he murmurs. “And then you screamed.”

“I did not scream.”

“You absolutely screamed.”

“I whispered-screamed.”

“That is still screaming.”

The game loads.

A dark hallway fills the screen. The sound design alone makes your skin prickle—soft static, distant footsteps, something breathing that definitely shouldn’t be breathing.

Louis leans closer without even realizing it, his knee knocking into yours.

“Okay,” he whispers, suddenly very serious. “Rule number one. No yelling.”

“Rule number two,” you whisper back. “If one of us gets scared, we grab the other person instead of making noise.”

He nods solemnly. “Deal.”

Not even two minutes later, something lunges out of the darkness on-screen.

You clamp your hand over your mouth.

Louis clamps both arms around you.

You feel him jolt, a sharp inhale pressed against your neck as he freezes completely, body rigid. The two of you stay like that for a long second, the game character breathing heavily while your own heart pounds just as loud.

Louis’s voice comes out in a whisper so quiet it barely exists. “I hate this.”

You’re shaking with silent laughter, forehead pressed to his. “You’re the one hugging me.”

“I’m protecting you,” he insists weakly.

“You jumped first.”

“That’s not important.”

Another noise from the game—slow footsteps, closer now.

You feel Louis shift so you’re half tucked under his arm, his chin hovering near the top of your head. His hand finds yours, fingers lacing together tight enough that you can feel his pulse.

“I swear,” he murmurs, “if something pops out again, I’m uninstalling Roblox forever.”

“You say that like it means something,” you whisper.

He glares at you, then immediately looks back at the screen, eyes wide. “Shh.”

You move the character forward.

The tension builds. The hallway narrows. A door creaks open.

Louis leans in closer, lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “I don’t like this game. It’s stupid. Why are we doing this?”

“Because you wanted to,” you whisper back.

“I wanted to spend time with you,” he corrects. “Not get haunted.”

Something shrieks on the screen.

This time, you both flinch at once.

Louis makes a strangled noise that would absolutely qualify as a yelp if he weren’t actively suffocating it into your shoulder. His arms wrap around you completely now, practically shielding you from the laptop as if the monster could crawl out of it.

You press your face into his hoodie to muffle your laughter, shoulders shaking.

“Don’t laugh,” he whispers desperately. “You’re going to wake everyone up.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, trying—and failing—to breathe normally. “You’re just—”

“—what?”

“So brave.”

He scoffs, squeezing you tighter. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

He sighs, forehead dropping against yours. “No. I don’t.”

There’s a soft knock at the door.

Both of you freeze.

The game continues playing quietly in the background, eerie ambience filling the silence.

Another knock. Louder this time.

Louis’s eyes go wide. He slowly reaches over and slams the laptop shut, plunging the room into near darkness.

You hear movement outside. A muffled voice. “Why are your lights on?”

Ohyul.

Louis leans close to your ear, whispering, “Don’t move.”

The door cracks open. Ohyul peers in, hair messy, eyes half-lidded.

“What are you doing?” he asks flatly.

“Nothing,” Louis whispers back.

Ohyul squints. “It’s three in the morning.”

“Yes,” Louis agrees. “And?”

Ohyul looks at you, then at Louis, then sighs deeply. “You two are idiots.”

“We were quiet,” you whisper.

“I heard whisper screaming,” Ohyul says. “That’s worse.”

Louis groans, dropping his face into your shoulder again. “We were playing a game.”

“A horror game?” Ohyul asks.

Louis nods reluctantly.

Ohyul just stares at him. “You hate horror.”

“I know,” Louis mutters.

Ohyul shakes his head, muttering something about couples being unbearable before closing the door behind him.

Silence returns.

Louis stays frozen for a few seconds longer, then finally relaxes, shoulders dropping as he exhales.

“…That was close,” he murmurs.

You nudge him gently. “You survived.”

He glances at the closed laptop, then at you. “Barely.”

You smile softly, reaching up to adjust his hoodie collar. “You okay?”

He nods, eyes softer now. “Yeah. I am.”

He pulls you closer again, this time slower, intentional. Comfortable.

“We can stop playing,” you whisper.

“Good,” he says immediately. Then pauses. “But also… maybe one more level?”

You laugh quietly, resting your head against his chest. “You’re impossible.”

He presses a soft kiss to your hair. “You love me.”

You barely get the laptop open again before Louis is already glued to your side, arm wrapped firmly around your waist like he’s afraid you might disappear into the screen.

“Just—stay right there,” he whispers. “Don’t move.”

“I’m literally not moving,” you whisper back.

“That’s what people say before they move.”

You bite your lip to keep from laughing and click back into the game. The hallway loads again. Same place. Same terrible vibes.

Louis’s chin rests on your shoulder now, his cheek pressed warm against yours. Every time the game makes a noise, his grip tightens just a little.

“You’re squeezing me,” you murmur.

“I’m anchoring,” he says. “In case you try to run.”

From what? Digital ghosts?

The sound of a door opening down the hall makes both of you stiffen.

“Did you hear that?” Louis whispers.

“Yes,” you whisper. “It’s real life this time.”

Footsteps approach. Slower. Heavier.

Louis panics.

He pulls you closer—so close you’re practically sitting in his lap now—and hisses, “Okay, okay, okay, new rule. If someone comes in, you pretend nothing is happening.”

“You’re literally holding me hostage.”

“Exactly. Casual.”

The door swings open.

Ryul stands there, arms crossed, face completely unreadable.

“What,” he says flatly, “are you two doing.”

Louis freezes like a deer in headlights.

You don’t even get the chance to answer before Louis speaks, way too fast for whisper-volume. “Nothing illegal.”

Ryul blinks. “That’s not reassuring.”

He looks at the laptop. At the LED lights. At how Louis has you locked against him like a human shield.

“…Are you playing games.”

“No,” Louis lies instantly.

You lift the laptop just enough for the Roblox horror menu to glow faintly.

Ryul closes his eyes. “It’s three in the morning.”

“Yes,” Louis agrees again, like that explains everything.

Ryul pinches the bridge of his nose. “I heard whisper screaming.”

“That was emotional expression,” Louis says.

Ryul opens his eyes and stares directly at him. “You hate horror.”

Louis shrugs. “She wanted to play.”

Ryul looks at you. “Blink twice if you’re being held against your will.”

Louis tightens his arm around you. “Don’t.”

You laugh quietly. “I’m fine.”

Ryul sighs. “If the rest of the dorm wakes up, I’m blaming both of you.”

He turns to leave—then pauses. “Actually.”

Louis stiffens. “No.”

Ryul smirks. “If you scream again, I’m telling everyone you got scared first.”

The door closes.

Louis collapses back against the headboard dramatically. “I hate him.”

“You absolutely screamed first,” you whisper.

“That’s not the point.”

You go to shift back to your original spot.

Louis does not let you.

Instead, he pulls you right back, arms wrapping fully around you this time, chin settling on top of your head.

“No,” he says quietly.

“No?” you echo.

“We’re staying like this.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s safer,” he replies.

“From the game?”

“From everything.”

You smile softly, relaxing into him. His hand slips under the hem of your hoodie, resting warm against your side. He absentmindedly rubs small circles there, a nervous habit you know well.

The game loads again.

You move forward.

A shadow flickers across the screen.

Louis makes a tiny noise in his throat and immediately buries his face into your shoulder.

“Louis.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re hiding.”

“I’m strategically avoiding eye contact.”

You laugh silently, reaching back to squeeze his hand. “You’re okay.”

“I know,” he murmurs. “Just don’t move.”

The door bursts open again.

This time it’s Ohyul (again) and Woojin behind him, both wide awake now.

“What is wrong with you people,” Ohyul whispers harshly.

Louis doesn’t even lift his head. “Nothing.”

“Oh really?” Ohyul gestures at the laptop. “Because I heard something growl.”

“That was the game,” you whisper.

“And him,” Woojin adds, pointing at Louis.

Louis lifts his head just enough to glare. “I did not growl.”

“You whimpered,” Ohyul says.

Louis tightens his arms around you possessively. “I don’t like being judged.”

Ohyul stares at the way Louis is practically glued to you. “You’re clingy.”

“So?” Louis snaps. “She’s mine.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Oh my god,” both boys mutter. “We’re going back to bed.”

The door closes again.

You’re quiet for a moment.

Then you whisper, “You just said ‘she’s mine.’…”

Louis’s ears go pink. “Did I?”

“Yes.”

“…Good.”

You turn slightly in his arms, looking up at him. “You okay now?”

He nods, softer, calmer. “Yeah. Better.”

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Next time,” he murmurs, “we’re playing something cute. Like farming. Or cats.”

“You’re the one who picked horror.”

“I was feeling brave,” he says. “Then the monsters showed up.”

You smile, settling back against his chest as he holds you just a little tighter, the dorm quiet again around you.

At least until the next bad idea.

[emmzywemmzy]

Lngshot OT4 x reader

Requested

Summary: OT4s reaction to you doing the “ seeing if he melts into the kiss “ trend.

Genre: fluff

MASTERLIST

Requests are open

Ohyul

You learn very quickly that Ohyul hates being perceived.

Which is exactly why this is funny.

He’s stretched out on the dorm couch like he pays rent, one arm thrown over his eyes, the other loosely holding his phone above his face. There’s music playing quietly from someone’s speaker, and the rest of the members are scattered around—some in the kitchen, some arguing over snacks, some just existing loudly.

Ohyul, however, is in his peace era.

You sit on the floor beside the couch, scrolling aimlessly until the TikTok pops up.

“Seeing if my boyfriend melts into the kiss.”

You glance up slowly.

Ohyul hasn’t noticed yet.

Perfect.

You watch another video. Then another. All the same format—slow lean-in, teasing pause, soft kiss—and every single boyfriend absolutely folding.

You bite your lip to keep from smiling.

“Ohyul,” you say.

He hums. Doesn’t move his arm from his eyes.

“What would you do,” you ask carefully, “if I kissed you right now?”

He scoffs. “Nothing.”

You tilt your head. “Nothing?”

“Yeah,” he says confidently. “I’m not one of those guys.”

You snort. “Those guys?”

“You know,” he says, finally lowering his arm just enough to peek at you. “The dramatic ones.”

You stand up.

He watches you suspiciously now. “Why are you standing.”

“No reason.”

“You just asked me a question and then stood up,” he says. “That’s a threat.”

You step closer to the couch. Slowly.

He sits up a little. “Hey.”

You don’t say anything. You just lean over him, hands planted on either side of his shoulders, trapping him in.

“Oh,” he laughs, already smiling. “You’re doing that thing.”

“What thing?”

“That thing where you act like you’re about to do something but you don’t,” he says. “I know your tricks.”

You lean in closer.

He holds his ground. Barely.

“I’m not melting,” he says preemptively.

You pause just before your lips meet his.

He squints. “Why are you stopping.”

You kiss him.

It’s quick. Soft. Barely a second.

You pull back immediately.

He blinks.

“…That’s it?” he says.

You shrug. “What?”

“That was literally nothing,” he says, smug. “See? Didn’t melt.”

You tilt your head. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

You lean in again—but this time, instead of kissing him, you press your forehead to his.

His hands come up on instinct, gripping the sides of your hoodie.

He groans. “You’re so annoying.”

You grin. “Your hands are shaking.”

“They are not.”

“They are,” you say. “Oh my god.”

He looks down at them, offended. “That’s crazy. Betrayal from my own body.”

You laugh and press another quick kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He sighs. Not dramatically. Not loudly.

But definitely a sigh.

“Okay,” he says. “That one was cheap.”

You smile. “Scoreboard says you’re losing.”

“There is no scoreboard.”

You poke his cheek. “You’re blushing.”

He slaps your hand away. “Stop looking at my face like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re proud of yourself,” he says. “I don’t like it.”

You lean in again, clearly enjoying this now.

“Ohyul,” you whisper.

He braces. You can literally see it—shoulders tensing, jaw setting.

You kiss his nose.

He freezes.

Then: “You’re actually evil.”

You laugh and pull back just enough to see his face. His ears are pink. His mouth is twitching like he’s trying not to smile.

“That was a melt,” you say.

“That was not a melt,” he argues. “That was shock.”

You climb halfway onto the couch, knee beside his thigh.

“You’re smiling,” you say.

“I smile when I’m uncomfortable.”

“That is also not healthy.”

He suddenly reaches out and grabs your wrist, tugging you off balance just enough that you land against his chest.

You gasp. “HEY.”

Now he’s grinning. “My turn.”

You push at his shoulder. “Absolutely not.”

He dodges, laughing, and tries to poke your side. You squeal and shove him back.

“Fight me,” you challenge.

“I will,” he says, mock-serious.

You lean in like you’re going to kiss him again.

He leans away. “Nope.”

Instead, you peck his cheek.

He groans and drops his head onto your shoulder.

“Oh my god,” he mutters. “You keep sneaking them in.”

“That’s the point.”

“This trend is rigged,” he says.

You wrap your arms loosely around him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He doesn’t push you away.

“That one didn’t count,” he adds, quieter now.

“Why not?”

“Because,” he says, adjusting so you’re more comfortable, “I wasn’t prepared.”

Your heart does that annoying little flip again.

You hide it by pressing a kiss under his jaw—light, quick.

He exhales.

Not a sigh this time.

A full, relaxed exhale.

You pull back slowly.

“Ohyul,” you say softly.

“…Yeah?”

“You melted.”

He opens his mouth to argue, then stops.

He stares at the ceiling for a second, thinking.

“…Okay,” he admits. “Maybe a little.”

You grin. “Admitting it is the final stage.”

He nudges your forehead with his. “Don’t make it weird.”

From the kitchen, someone yells, “WHY ARE YOU GUYS SO CLOSE.”

Ohyul tightens one arm around your waist immediately.

“Mind your business,” he calls back.

You laugh and kiss his cheek again.

This time, he doesn’t even pretend to resist.

Ryul

Ryul notices everything.

So honestly, the fact that you even think you can sneak this past him is bold.

He’s sitting at the small dining table in the dorm, chair tilted back slightly, one foot hooked around the leg like he’s daring gravity to test him. His phone is in his hand, thumbs flying as he texts—probably one of the members even though they’re literally in the next room.

You’re across from him, pretending to be invested in a bag of snacks that is very much empty.

You’re actually watching him.

You saw the trend earlier.

You haven’t said anything since.

That alone has him suspicious.

“You’re quiet,” Ryul says without looking up.

You blink. “Am I not allowed to be?”

“No,” he says immediately. “Not like that.”

“Like what?”

He finally looks up, eyes narrowing slightly. “Like you’re plotting.”

You smile. “I would never.”

He scoffs. “That’s crazy because you absolutely would.”

You stand up.

He straightens in his chair instantly. “Why are you standing.”

“I’m stretching.”

“You stretched like ten minutes ago.”

“I’m very flexible.”

“That didn’t answer the question.”

You walk over to him slowly, stopping right between his knees. He leans back just a little, hands gripping the edge of the chair.

“You’re too close,” he says.

“You’re dramatic.”

He laughs once, short and disbelieving. “You came over here on purpose. What are you doing?”

You lean down.

Not kissing yet. Just enough for him to feel it.

He freezes.

“…Why are you leaning like that,” he asks, voice lighter now, teasing but guarded.

You tilt your head. “What?”

“You’re doing the slow thing,” he says. “I don’t like the slow thing.”

“You never complained before.”

“That’s different,” he says. “That was intentional.”

“This isn’t?”

He opens his mouth, then closes it. “…Okay I don’t like that you’re winning.”

You grin and finally press a quick kiss to his lips—barely even there—then pull back immediately.

Ryul blinks.

“That’s it?” he asks.

You shrug. “What?”

“That wasn’t a real kiss,” he says, already smug. “You’re trying to rage bait me.”

“Am I?”

“Yes,” he says. “And it didn’t work.”

You watch him carefully.

The way his leg unhooks from the chair.

The way his hands slide from the edge of the seat to your waist without him even realizing.

“You’re gripping me,” you point out.

“No I’m not.”

You look down. “Ryul.”

He glances down too. Pauses.

“…Okay that doesn’t count.”

You lean in again—but instead of kissing him, you stop just short.

He groans. Loudly.

“Oh my god,” he laughs, tilting his head back. “Why are you hovering?”

“Testing something,” you say sweetly.

“You’re so annoying,” he says, but he’s smiling now. “I’m not melting.”

You finally kiss him again—another quick peck—and then immediately poke his shoulder.

“HEY,” he protests. “What was that for?”

“For balance.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

You step back, hands raised. “You’re still upright. Looks like you passed.”

He squints. “Passed what?”

“Nothing,” you say.

He narrows his eyes further. “You’re lying.”

You smile innocently.

He stands up suddenly, closing the distance again.

“Okay,” he says. “My turn.”

“For what?”

“For whatever game you’re playing.”

You barely have time to react before he leans in—but instead of kissing you, he bumps your nose lightly with his.

You laugh. “Oh that’s weak.”

“Oh really?” he says. “You laughed.”

“That’s not melting.”

“You’re soft,” he says confidently. “I win.”

“No you don’t.”

You grab the front of his hoodie and tug him down just enough to land another quick kiss—this time on his cheek.

His entire body freezes.

You see it.

Feel it.

He exhales slowly and drops his forehead onto your shoulder like the fight just left him.

“…You’re cheating,” he mumbles.

You laugh softly. “How?”

“You keep sneaking them in.”

“That’s literally the point of the trend.”

He lifts his head. “Trend?”

You freeze.

He grins. “Aha.”

“Okay,” you admit. “Yes. It’s a TikTok thing.”

“I knew it,” he says. “You’re trying to see if I melt.”

“You said it,” not me.

He scoffs. “I am not melting.”

You lean in again.

He braces this time—shoulders tense, jaw set.

You kiss his jaw quickly and pull back.

He sighs.

A real sigh.

Not dramatic. Not annoyed.

Just… comfortable.

You smile. “Ryul.”

“Don’t,” he says quietly.

“Your guard dropped.”

He clicks his tongue. “I relaxed.”

“That’s melting.”

“No it’s not,” he argues. “Melting is like—dramatic. I’m just… settling.”

You step closer again, arms sliding loosely around his waist.

He immediately wraps one arm around your back.

“See,” you say. “Clingy.”

“I am not clingy.”

“You pulled me in,” you point out.

“Instinct.”

You kiss his chin lightly.

He exhales again, this time resting his cheek against the top of your head.

“…Okay,” he mutters. “This trend is unfair.”

You grin against his hoodie. “So you admit it?”

He hesitates.

Then tightens his arm around you just a little.

“…Fine,” he says. “Maybe I melt. But only with you.”

Your chest does that dumb, warm flip.

From the hallway, someone yells, “WHY ARE YOU TWO GLUED TO EACH OTHER AGAIN?”

Ryul doesn’t even look up.

He nudges your shoulder with his chin and says, “Don’t care.”

You laugh and sneak one more soft kiss under his jaw.

He doesn’t protest.

Doesn’t pretend.

Just holds you closer.

Definitely melted.

Woojin

Woojin doesn’t even pretend.

That’s the difference.

You’re sitting at the dorm table, legs tucked under you, scrolling through your phone while chaos happens around you—someone yelling from the kitchen, someone else practicing choreo in the mirror for no reason. Woojin is beside you, chin resting in his palm, watching you instead of whatever is on his phone.

You catch him.

Again.

“You good?” you ask.

He hums. “Yeah.”

“You’ve been staring.”

“I know.”

You blink. “You’re not gonna deny it?”

“Nope.”

You squint at him. “That’s suspicious.”

He smiles, soft and easy. “I like looking at you.”

You groan. “You’re actually unbearable.”

“Correct,” he says. “And yet.”

You shake your head, laughing, and look back down at your phone—just in time to see the TikTok trend pop up.

Seeing if my boyfriend melts into the kiss.

You glance at Woojin slowly.

He’s already watching you again.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you say, too innocently.

He raises an eyebrow. “That’s a lie.”

You stand up.

He immediately reaches out and hooks a finger around your sleeve. “Where are you going.”

“I stood up,” you say. “Relax.”

“I don’t like when you move without explaining,” he says calmly.

“You sound insane.”

“Whipped,” he corrects. “There’s a difference.”

You laugh and step closer to him, standing between his knees. He looks up at you, completely unguarded, hands already settling on your hips like that’s where they live.

“You gonna do the thing?” he asks.

“What thing?”

“The slow lean,” he says. “Everyone’s been doing it.”

You freeze. “You’ve seen the trend?”

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s cute.”

You narrow your eyes. “You were just gonna let me try it.”

“Absolutely,” he says. “I’m curious.”

“You’re not even nervous?”

He shrugs. “I already know the outcome.”

“And what’s that?”

He smiles wider. “I melt. Instantly.”

That makes you laugh so hard you almost forget what you were doing.

“You’re not supposed to admit that.”

“Why not?” he says. “It’s true.”

You lean down anyway—slow, teasing, hovering just close enough for him to feel your breath.

He doesn’t tense.

Doesn’t brace.

Doesn’t fight it.

He just relaxes.

His shoulders drop, hands warm and steady on your waist, eyes softening like he’s already home.

“You see?” he says quietly. “Look at me. Gone.”

You kiss him—but it’s quick. A soft peck. You pull back immediately.

He sighs happily.

“Yup,” he says. “That did it.”

“That’s it?” you tease. “No denial? No ‘I didn’t melt’?”

He shakes his head. “Why would I lie?”

You poke his cheek. “You didn’t even try to resist.”

“I don’t want to,” he says simply.

Your heart does that stupid thing again.

You hide it by kissing his nose.

He smiles so hard his eyes almost disappear.

“Wow,” he says. “Another one.”

“You’re counting?”

“Of course,” he says. “I treasure these.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“You love it.”

You lean in again, slower this time, stopping just before your lips meet.

He tilts his head up instinctively, following you.

“You stopped,” he murmurs.

“You’re supposed to wait.”

“I am waiting,” he says. “Patiently.”

You laugh and finally give him another quick kiss—this one on the corner of his mouth.

He exhales, content, and rests his forehead against your chest.

“See?” he says. “Melted.”

“That was barely anything.”

“And yet,” he says, arms sliding fully around your waist, pulling you close, “I’m gone.”

You thread your fingers through his hair lightly.

“You’re proud of this?”

“Extremely,” he says. “You’re my favorite person.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“That’s committed.”

From across the room, Ryul yells, “WHY ARE YOU TWO ALWAYS TOUCHING.”

Woojin doesn’t even look up.

“Because I’m lowkey whipped” he calls back easily.

There’s a pause.

“…At least you’re honest,” Louis mutters.

You laugh and try to pull back, but Woojin keeps you right where you are.

“Wait,” he says. “One more.”

“For what?”

“You leaned earlier,” he says. “My turn.”

He leans in—not slow, not teasing—just bumps his forehead against yours gently.

Then he kisses your cheek.

Soft. Quick. Familiar.

You gasp dramatically. “HEY.”

He grins. “You melted.”

“I did not.”

“You did,” he says confidently. “Your shoulders dropped.”

“Whatever”

You kiss him again—another light peck—and this time you’re the one who lingers just a second longer.

He hums, satisfied.

“Yeah,” he says. “There it is.”

“There what?”

“My favorite thing,” he says softly. “You.”

You groan and hide your face in his shoulder. “You’re so whipped it’s embarrassing.”

He tightens his hold just a little.

“Good,” he says. “I hope everyone knows.”

From the kitchen: “WE KNOW.”

Woojin laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Worth it,” he says.

You smile.

He didn’t melt.

He stayed melted the whole time.

Louis

You find out about the trend on accident.

You’re sprawled across the dorm couch, half-listening to whatever argument is happening in the kitchen—something about instant ramen etiquette—when a TikTok pops up on your phone.

“Seeing if my boyfriend melts into the kiss.”

You squint.

Replay it.

Then replay it again.

Louis is sitting on the floor a few feet away, back against the couch, gaming console in his hands. He’s focused, tongue poking slightly into his cheek, fully locked in. Comfortable. Unaware.

Perfect.

You slide off the couch quietly and hover behind him.

He notices immediately.

“Why are you looming?” he asks without looking up.

“I’m not looming,” you say. “I’m… existing.”

“Menacingly,” he adds.

You snort.

You step closer and nudge his shoulder with your knee. He finally looks up at you, eyebrow raised.

“What do you want?”

You shrug. “Can’t I just hang out with my boyfriend?”

He narrows his eyes. “You only talk like that when you’re about to do something weird.”

You grin.

“You’re being dramatic.”

“I am extremely correct,” he says, setting the controller down. “What’s up?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you bend down just slightly so your faces are close.

Not kissing.

Just close.

Louis freezes.

“You—” he laughs nervously and leans back a little. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

You tilt your head. “Like what?”

“Like you’re about to bite me.”

“Maybe I am.”

He scoffs. “You’re so fake.”

You lean in and press a quick kiss to his lips—barely a second—then pull back immediately.

He blinks.

“That’s it?” he says.

You shrug again. “What?”

“That was nothing,” he says, smug now. “I didn’t melt.”

You bite your lip to keep from smiling. “Didn’t you?”

“Nope.”

You lean in again, slower this time—but instead of kissing him, you stop just short.

Louis groans and drops his head back against the couch.

“Oh my god,” he laughs. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” you ask sweetly.

“Hovering,” he says. “It’s evil.”

You finally kiss him again—another quick peck—then pull back and flick his forehead.

“OW,” he yelps. “Why would you do that?”

“For science.”

He stares at you. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You love me,” you say.

He smiles despite himself. “Unfortunately.”

You try again—this time you grab his cheeks gently, squishing them just enough to annoy him before landing another kiss.

“HEY,” he protests, laughing. “You’re literally harassing me.”

“You’re smiling,” you point out.

“I smile when I’m stressed.”

“I don’t think that’s healthy king.”

He reaches up suddenly and pokes your side.

You squeak and swat his hand. “Oh no you don’t.”

Now it’s on.

You push his shoulder lightly, and he pretends to dramatically lose balance, falling sideways with an exaggerated groan.

“Assault,” he says. “I’ll be reporting this.”

“You started it,” you argue, climbing halfway over him to pin him down. “Admit it.”

“Never,” he says, trying—and failing—to look serious. “You’ll never break me.”

You lean down like you’re going to kiss him again.

He braces. You can tell. His hands already come up to your waist.

Instead, you boop his nose.

He bursts out laughing.

“BRO.”

“That’s one,” you say proudly.

“One what?”

“One melt,” you say. “You laughed.”

“That’s not melting!”

“Your guard dropped.”

He gasps. “You’re making up rules.”

You grin. “That’s how trends work.”

He reaches up and pulls you down into another kiss—still short, still playful—but this time you’re the one caught off guard.

When you pull back, he’s smirking.

“See?” he says. “You melted.”

“No I didn’t.”

“You absolutely did,” he says. “Your shoulders dropped.”

You blink. “You’re analyzing my posture now?”

“Yes,” he says. “I’m very invested.”

You lean your forehead against his. “Admit it. You’re losing.”

He sighs dramatically. “Fine. Maybe. A little.”

“A little?” you tease.

He shrugs, arms sliding loosely around your back. “You’re just… annoying in a way I like.”

Your heart does a stupid little flip.

You hide it by kissing his cheek quickly.

He freezes.

“…Okay that one was uncalled for,” he says quietly.

You pull back. “What?”

“That one almost got me.”

You smile. “Almost?”

He laughs under his breath and squeezes you closer—not tight, just comfortable. Familiar.

“I don’t melt,” he says. “I just… soften.”

“That’s literally the same thing.”

“No,” he insists. “Melting sounds dramatic.”

You kiss his jaw.

He sighs.

“…Okay maybe I melt.”

From the kitchen, Ohyul yells, “WHY ARE YOU BOTH SO QUIET NOW?”

Louis doesn’t answer.

He just nudges you with his nose and whispers, “Don’t put this on TikTok.”

You grin. “No promises.”

He groans—but he’s smiling, arms still around you.

Definitely melted.

[kcake555]

James cake 🍰

cortis