· diana ˖˚⊹ ꣑ৎ you can call me dia or ana, im 19 & neurodivergent ♡
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Kinktober idea- bf mark thinks sharing his gf with haechan on Halloween night is a good idea. Haechan has been wanting y/n for the longest time possible, and y/n has always felt her heart flutter when haechan flirted with her
i kind of changed it up a little i hope thats okay 🙂↕️
week 1 💌 mc 1817 threesome kinktober masterlist mdni ♡‧₊˚
the guilt in your mouth is haechan's favorite flavor.
yet despite coming so close to the taste, it’s never bled onto him. shameless, he moves his knee further between your legs, his palm pushing down on your shoulder that only causes your elbow to lower the window.
“f-fuck, hae. what if someone sees?” you blurt out, words mumbled and rushed. haechan laughs with a wet heat into your neck, his teeth not biting but indenting the area before pecking it.
“we’re fine,” he says off with another peck. if it weren’t for the wrong and filthy position you two were in right now, he would bite harder. he would mark the spot to claim you. but obviously, you're not his to claim.
he leans forward to close the window, thigh moving between your legs as he does. it’s so simple, yet your breath shakes at the feeling. every part of this is so wrong, but your body trembles in delight in each brush of the skin against his.
at the sound, haechan hums and brings his hand to the crevice of your thigh. the sensation makes your stomach contract, shivers flowing down your stomach and voicing themselves through your lips. your quiet whine only encourages him to go further, his thumb running circles in your inner thigh.
“haechan. wait, we- it’s too risky. mark should be back any time now.” you blurt out, hating how quickly your moral side is to shut down your guilty pleasures. haechan doesn’t seem to mind, substituting every syllable that just came out of your mouth as another reason to kiss you. his large hand wraps around the back of your neck, pointer finger hooking around some of the hairs as he moves you to his lips.
he nibbles into your bottom lip, but you can’t. your hands hover frozen in front of his shirt.
“let me show mark how good i can make you feel. no need to watch your volume once he’s in here.” haechan’s mumbles make your eyes widen. the thought of it makes your legs press together. control yourself, your thoughts blare. but.. one more kiss wouldn’t hurt, right?
pausing, your gaze flickers from his disheveled shirt to his glossy eyes. “please.” you mumble. god, you sounded so desperate and haechan was drunk in your tone alone. he licks up from your collarbone to your jaw, his nose right against the sensitive spot below your ear that makes you grab at his sleeve.
“y’okay, princess?” he affirms, creating the smallest amount of distance in order to observe your reaction. you figure that words don’t suffice and pull him closer, scattering rushed and heavy pecks to the corner of his lips before pulling his bottom lip into a dance with your own.
his knuckles push against the side of your tits, the bone pushing your breasts together in a way that causes his gaze to immediately flicker down. the sight paints his face with a small smile, a corner of his lip twitching up in satisfaction. over your shirt’s fabric, he presses down enough with his thumb to slip his thumb onto your nipple, swirling around it. your breath hitches before it becomes increasingly unstable, your moan pushing through your throat as a restricted whimper.
“you sound beautiful, baby,” a warm voice comments, but it’s too far to be haechan. fuck.
“mark?” you hic, your muscles tensing. he doesn’t spare you a reply and only slides into the driver’s seat. he seems far too relaxed for this — you swore he’d kill you if he ever found out. your eyes flickered all over his figure, his body leaning around the carseat with a loose grip on his phone and an open text conversation glowing on the screen. oh my god.
“right here, lovely. haechan’ll take care of you while i get us to a place we can all share, yeah?”
soon enough, you were splayed out in front of your boyfriend and his best friend. clothed, but feeling bare as one can be. mark’s fingers fiddled with the zipper of your pants, and your breath hitched. he seemed to take this as a positive reaction, huffing.
“not yet, baby. how much longer were you planning on hiding this from me?” he scoffs. guilt pools in your stomach at the words, but haechan isn’t there to lick it off of you. instead, he keeps his mouth shut as he ogles your shirt’s wrinkled neckline hanging a tad too low.
“i don’t.. i didn’t-” mark cuts you off with a peck against your ear and whispers lava against it.
“no need,” he mutters, hand moving under your skirt to knead your thigh. he doesn’t break eye contact when he speaks or when he moves to feel around your skin and it changes the air around you, constricting your throat in the slightest. “save it so you can sound pretty for us later.”
haechan crawls forward on the bed, planting one hand between your legs right where your skirt ends. his other hands hold him up, providing support as he moves to speak against your shoulder. “okay, princess?” you can’t tell whether he’s asking for your stance or stating his, but you nod regardless. you hear mark’s breathy laugh at this, and he works your skirt off your legs, letting it rest atop your ankles.
haechan’s soft pecks against your shoulder are soft and gentle as he moves your hand to palm him. it’s ironic, the way his actions are slow but his hand moves yours to feel his growing hard. your fingers curl around the shape of his cock above the denim of his jeans, his groan only causing your panties to grow wetter.
which, of course, goes noticed by mark. he giggles, moving to lay between your legs. senselessly, you feel yourself gripping onto haechan as a response of shock. haechan grows louder and mark once again chuckles, his breath fanning against your panties.
he hooks his finger around the fabric and pulls them to the side, his hand reaching up to push you back gently by the side of your ribcage. haechan adjusts, his hands working to pleasure you through the skin under your shirt.
mark’s nose rubs against your soaked skin, and you’re almost tempted to close your thighs around his head in shame of just how wet you’ve gotten from simple touches. he moves his thumb between your flaps, gaze focused on your countenance as he watches through his eyebrows, adjusting to what he sees pleases you best. as much as you want to watch him, your eyes shut in pleasure at the touch, a disgruntled moan slipping past your lips.
haechan closes his eyes for a moment– almost as if assessing himself before he lets himself finally indulge into you. after all, he’s been waiting months for small pecks and rushed kisses alone– who knows how far his thoughts have gone with you?
he pulls your shirt up past your breasts, sucking your nipple into his mouth through his teeth before swirling his tongue around the swelling area to reduce irritation. with his free hand, he grabs your boob, massaging into it. your back arches upward into his mouth, and mark licks up your clit to add to the sensation. both boys pleasuring you makes your thighs tremble — mark’s hair tickling the sides of them. your chest stutters before letting out heavy breaths that end in a whimper, only fueling the two further.
haechan pulls away from your nipple to place his pointer finger on his tongue and lick the entirety of it, the string of saliva curving as it drips down. he returns his mouth to your nipple and sucks onto the skin, his dripping finger swirling around the swollen nub of your other breast. his mouth feels heavenly on your skin. if you hadn’t focused on how much your tongue tasted like guilt, maybe you’d feel his craving for it as he pushed into your mouth every time you kissed.
mark’s tongue starts low, making its way up that shakes you out of your monologue. “mmh.. m-mark-” you moan out, calling his name with nothing less than a pure greed that makes your body jolt.
“s’okay?” he mumbles against your clit, his teeth just barely brushing against one of your flaps as he does. it’s so faint that you can’t tell whether it’s purposefully, but a loud moan bursts past your lips at the tone. haechan chuckles against your tits. that’s your answer, he teases.
haechan’s hands move up, sliding from your shoulders to your hair, gripping onto the roots of your hair and pulling in circular motions as he pecks from your chin going upwards. greed fills your gut, and you move his wet hand back to your sensitive breasts, arching into him yet again. mark’s tongue pushes into you, and haechan moves to swallow your whine, his fingers now tangled at the back of your head.
the feeling in your stomach builds until it racks your whole body, making the two boys exchange a glance. haechan lets his hands roam over your body before he lifts them, just hovering over your ribs. “can’t cum yet, sweetheart,” he tsks.
you whine, moving your own trembling hand to finger yourself weakly, the pool of pre-come coating your skin. mark’s eyes widen before a low groan rumbles from his throat. he doesn’t say much, but his eyes are locked onto your poor attempts to pleasure yourself. your fingernails scratch against your flaps and you pathetically whine against your hand. “p-please?” you almost beg, your body full.
mark presses a soft kiss atop a birthmark on your hip, eyelashes brushing against your skin. haechan moves slowly as well, marking a spot just above your nipple as mark repositions himself onto your clit.
mark huffs against your skin before he does anything. with his nose, he nudges in between your flaps and pushes forward — the pressure too hard for you to resist. you grip onto haechan’s hair with your free hand as a relief, but he grabs your wrist instead. haechan’s eyes are low and he licks your wrist. you gasp as his teeth graze the area the same time mark’s tongue pushes between your flaps. it’s so much, too much in the most perfect way.
“go ahead,” mark whispers against you, and almost immediately, you release onto him. he laps up your mess and swallows without a complaint, pushing his fingers between your flaps to gather what’s left. mark licks his fingers clean, delighted.
your heavy breaths fill the room, and haechan leans to press a peck to your parted lips. “you did amazing, princess. sounded so beautiful,” he whispers, stroking your hair.
mark smiles fondly, crawling to be close to your face and letting his thumb rub gently across your breast as he pecks your forehead. “just tell us next time you get so needy, hm?”
the guilt in your mouth is haechan's favorite flavor.
yet despite coming so close to the taste, it’s never bled onto him. shameless, he moves his knee further between your legs, his palm pushing down on your shoulder that only causes your elbow to lower the window.
“f-fuck, hae. what if someone sees?” you blurt out, words mumbled and rushed. haechan laughs with a wet heat into your neck, his teeth not biting but indenting the area before pecking it.
“we’re fine,” he says off with another peck. if it weren’t for the wrong and filthy position you two were in right now, he would bite harder. he would mark the spot to claim you. but obviously, you're not his to claim.
he leans forward to close the window, thigh moving between your legs as he does. it’s so simple, yet your breath shakes at the feeling. every part of this is so wrong, but your body trembles in delight in each brush of the skin against his.
at the sound, haechan hums and brings his hand to the crevice of your thigh. the sensation makes your stomach contract, shivers flowing down your stomach and voicing themselves through your lips. your quiet whine only encourages him to go further, his thumb running circles in your inner thigh.
“haechan. wait, we- it’s too risky. mark should be back any time now.” you blurt out, hating how quickly your moral side is to shut down your guilty pleasures. haechan doesn’t seem to mind, substituting every syllable that just came out of your mouth as another reason to kiss you. his large hand wraps around the back of your neck, pointer finger hooking around some of the hairs as he moves you to his lips.
he nibbles into your bottom lip, but you can’t. your hands hover frozen in front of his shirt.
“let me show mark how good i can make you feel. no need to watch your volume once he’s in here.” haechan’s mumbles make your eyes widen. the thought of it makes your legs press together. control yourself, your thoughts blare. but.. one more kiss wouldn’t hurt, right?
pausing, your gaze flickers from his disheveled shirt to his glossy eyes. “please.” you mumble. god, you sounded so desperate and haechan was drunk in your tone alone. he licks up from your collarbone to your jaw, his nose right against the sensitive spot below your ear that makes you grab at his sleeve.
“y’okay, princess?” he affirms, creating the smallest amount of distance in order to observe your reaction. you figure that words don’t suffice and pull him closer, scattering rushed and heavy pecks to the corner of his lips before pulling his bottom lip into a dance with your own.
his knuckles push against the side of your tits, the bone pushing your breasts together in a way that causes his gaze to immediately flicker down. the sight paints his face with a small smile, a corner of his lip twitching up in satisfaction. over your shirt’s fabric, he presses down enough with his thumb to slip his thumb onto your nipple, swirling around it. your breath hitches before it becomes increasingly unstable, your moan pushing through your throat as a restricted whimper.
“you sound beautiful, baby,” a warm voice comments, but it’s too far to be haechan. fuck.
“mark?” you hic, your muscles tensing. he doesn’t spare you a reply and only slides into the driver’s seat. he seems far too relaxed for this — you swore he’d kill you if he ever found out. your eyes flickered all over his figure, his body leaning around the carseat with a loose grip on his phone and an open text conversation glowing on the screen. oh my god.
“right here, lovely. haechan’ll take care of you while i get us to a place we can all share, yeah?”
soon enough, you were splayed out in front of your boyfriend and his best friend. clothed, but feeling bare as one can be. mark’s fingers fiddled with the zipper of your pants, and your breath hitched. he seemed to take this as a positive reaction, huffing.
“not yet, baby. how much longer were you planning on hiding this from me?” he scoffs. guilt pools in your stomach at the words, but haechan isn’t there to lick it off of you. instead, he keeps his mouth shut as he ogles your shirt’s wrinkled neckline hanging a tad too low.
“i don’t.. i didn’t-” mark cuts you off with a peck against your ear and whispers lava against it.
“no need,” he mutters, hand moving under your skirt to knead your thigh. he doesn’t break eye contact when he speaks or when he moves to feel around your skin and it changes the air around you, constricting your throat in the slightest. “save it so you can sound pretty for us later.”
haechan crawls forward on the bed, planting one hand between your legs right where your skirt ends. his other hands hold him up, providing support as he moves to speak against your shoulder. “okay, princess?” you can’t tell whether he’s asking for your stance or stating his, but you nod regardless. you hear mark’s breathy laugh at this, and he works your skirt off your legs, letting it rest atop your ankles.
haechan’s soft pecks against your shoulder are soft and gentle as he moves your hand to palm him. it’s ironic, the way his actions are slow but his hand moves yours to feel his growing hard. your fingers curl around the shape of his cock above the denim of his jeans, his groan only causing your panties to grow wetter.
which, of course, goes noticed by mark. he giggles, moving to lay between your legs. senselessly, you feel yourself gripping onto haechan as a response of shock. haechan grows louder and mark once again chuckles, his breath fanning against your panties.
he hooks his finger around the fabric and pulls them to the side, his hand reaching up to push you back gently by the side of your ribcage. haechan adjusts, his hands working to pleasure you through the skin under your shirt.
mark’s nose rubs against your soaked skin, and you’re almost tempted to close your thighs around his head in shame of just how wet you’ve gotten from simple touches. he moves his thumb between your flaps, gaze focused on your countenance as he watches through his eyebrows, adjusting to what he sees pleases you best. as much as you want to watch him, your eyes shut in pleasure at the touch, a disgruntled moan slipping past your lips.
haechan closes his eyes for a moment– almost as if assessing himself before he lets himself finally indulge into you. after all, he’s been waiting months for small pecks and rushed kisses alone– who knows how far his thoughts have gone with you?
he pulls your shirt up past your breasts, sucking your nipple into his mouth through his teeth before swirling his tongue around the swelling area to reduce irritation. with his free hand, he grabs your boob, massaging into it. your back arches upward into his mouth, and mark licks up your clit to add to the sensation. both boys pleasuring you makes your thighs tremble — mark’s hair tickling the sides of them. your chest stutters before letting out heavy breaths that end in a whimper, only fueling the two further.
haechan pulls away from your nipple to place his pointer finger on his tongue and lick the entirety of it, the string of saliva curving as it drips down. he returns his mouth to your nipple and sucks onto the skin, his dripping finger swirling around the swollen nub of your other breast. his mouth feels heavenly on your skin. if you hadn’t focused on how much your tongue tasted like guilt, maybe you’d feel his craving for it as he pushed into your mouth every time you kissed.
mark’s tongue starts low, making its way up that shakes you out of your monologue. “mmh.. m-mark-” you moan out, calling his name with nothing less than a pure greed that makes your body jolt.
“s’okay?” he mumbles against your clit, his teeth just barely brushing against one of your flaps as he does. it’s so faint that you can’t tell whether it’s purposefully, but a loud moan bursts past your lips at the tone. haechan chuckles against your tits. that’s your answer, he teases.
haechan’s hands move up, sliding from your shoulders to your hair, gripping onto the roots of your hair and pulling in circular motions as he pecks from your chin going upwards. greed fills your gut, and you move his wet hand back to your sensitive breasts, arching into him yet again. mark’s tongue pushes into you, and haechan moves to swallow your whine, his fingers now tangled at the back of your head.
the feeling in your stomach builds until it racks your whole body, making the two boys exchange a glance. haechan lets his hands roam over your body before he lifts them, just hovering over your ribs. “can’t cum yet, sweetheart,” he tsks.
you whine, moving your own trembling hand to finger yourself weakly, the pool of pre-come coating your skin. mark’s eyes widen before a low groan rumbles from his throat. he doesn’t say much, but his eyes are locked onto your poor attempts to pleasure yourself. your fingernails scratch against your flaps and you pathetically whine against your hand. “p-please?” you almost beg, your body full.
mark presses a soft kiss atop a birthmark on your hip, eyelashes brushing against your skin. haechan moves slowly as well, marking a spot just above your nipple as mark repositions himself onto your clit.
mark huffs against your skin before he does anything. with his nose, he nudges in between your flaps and pushes forward — the pressure too hard for you to resist. you grip onto haechan’s hair with your free hand as a relief, but he grabs your wrist instead. haechan’s eyes are low and he licks your wrist. you gasp as his teeth graze the area the same time mark’s tongue pushes between your flaps. it’s so much, too much in the most perfect way.
“go ahead,” mark whispers against you, and almost immediately, you release onto him. he laps up your mess and swallows without a complaint, pushing his fingers between your flaps to gather what’s left. mark licks his fingers clean, delighted.
your heavy breaths fill the room, and haechan leans to press a peck to your parted lips. “you did amazing, princess. sounded so beautiful,” he whispers, stroking your hair.
mark smiles fondly, crawling to be close to your face and letting his thumb rub gently across your breast as he pecks your forehead. “just tell us next time you get so needy, hm?”
· roomate!jisung afab!reader wc 3.7k+ lowercase intentional mdni this was requested ♡ join my taglist ⊹ buy me a kofi
· smut with little plot subby & sensitive jisung dom reader size kink handjob cum eating choking (m receiving) lots of dirty talk
· dia 💭‧₊˚ — if there are glitches in the small text... ignore it. happy reading
“fuck, i’m so sorry!”
jisung’s voice comes out cracked, strangled, like it had to climb over a wall of panic before reaching the air. mumbled apologies tumble out of his mouth in quick succession, his head already bowing — once, twice, too many times to count, as if the repetition could erase what just happened.
you wrap your towel around yourself in record speed, the cotton scratching against your damp skin. the steam of the shower hasn’t even cleared yet, curling in thick swirls around the small bathroom, but your mind has already fogged with heat that has nothing to do with hot water.
“what’s your problem, perv?” you ask teasingly, clutching the towel like a shield. the words come out sharper than intended, your voice dripping with faux disbelief. “do you make a habit of peeping on people when they’re showering?” his ears burn bright red, his eyes staying glued to the bathroom tiles, his tall frame visibly folding in on itself. he mutters something — maybe another apology, but his voice is so low it gets swallowed up by the hiss of water still dripping from the showerhead.
still, you catch it. “i didn’t know! i just — you usually —” his throat bobs, words breaking apart like spilled marbles. he dares a glance upward, and for half a second his gaze flicks over you, damp skin damp and glistening from the cooling water droplets, towel barely secure, your breasts nearly spilling out from the top. before he jerks his eyes away again.
that look shouldn’t linger, but it does.
you narrow your eyes. “unbelievable,” you scoff. but your irritation is tempered by something else, something you’re not willing to name. he looks… ashamed. mortified. his hands twist at the hem of his hoodie, knuckles pale, as if holding onto fabric is the only thing keeping him steady.
jisung isn’t a bad roommate—awkward, yes, nerdy in a way that borders on endearing, but not a creep. he’s the kind of guy who spends hours hunched over his laptop with headphones in, tapping away at god knows what. sometimes you hear him muttering strategies to himself when he games (you can also hear his annoying gross friends raging), sometimes you find him asleep on the couch surrounded by empty ramen cups and open notebooks. always timid, always a little too polite.
you should be furious. you should scream, throw something, shove him out and lock the door behind you. instead, you find yourself fidgeting, readjusting the towel higher on your chest even though you know he isn’t looking. not really. only in flashes, quick betrayals of his self-control.
“y/n, i swear,” he blurts suddenly, louder this time, voice cracking under the strain of nerves. “i didn’t know you were in here, i just — i needed —” he motions vaguely toward the counter, where his electric toothbrush sits abandoned. a laugh almost escapes you. almost. he barged in on you nearly naked because he needed his toothbrush?
you bite it back, shifting your weight onto one hip instead. “ever heard of knocking?”
“i mean yeah — yes, i usually do…” his words tangle together again, tripping over one another. “i thought you were still in your room, i don’t know! your door was open and—”
“and so you just storm the bathroom like you’re the only one that owns it?”
“i didn’t storm…” he trails off, groans under his breath, and rubs a hand over his face like he wants to scrub the moment out of existence.
there’s a beat of silence where all you hear is the faint drip-drip of water onto tile. you loosen your grip on the towel a bit and tilt your head, studying him. this shouldn’t be funny. but it is. a little. his long frame awkwardly crammed into the doorway, his glasses sliding down his nose, his whole demeanor one stiff, trembling mess. the embarrassment rolls off him in waves, filling the room so thickly you can practically breathe it in.
you shouldn’t notice the way his broad shoulders tense under the hoodie, or the way his adam’s apple jerks every time he swallows. you shouldn’t notice the fact that even though his eyes keep darting to the floor, they flicker up every now and then, helplessly, hungrily, before he wrenches them away again. but you do.
and something about it sparks a wicked little thought in the back of your mind. you let out a long sigh, deliberately slow, and lean just slightly against the counter. “you know,” you say, tone shifting from sharp to almost casual, “most guys would be thrilled to walk in on something like this.” his head snaps up. his eyes are wide, caught between offense and panic.
“what? i’m not — i wouldn’t!”
the corners of your mouth twitch despite yourself. you watch him stumble over every possible denial, watch his face burn redder with each second. he’s so bad at this. so bad at hiding the obvious. “relax,” you cut in, rolling your eyes but unable to hide the faint smirk tugging at your lips. “i didn’t say you did it on purpose.”
“i didn’t…” he insists, though his voice has dropped to a mumble again. His hands are still knotted in the hem of his hoodie, twisting it tight.
“mm.” you hum noncommittally, letting the word hang in the humid air.
you could leave it there. you could brush past him, retreat to your room, and never bring it up again.
but where’s the fun in that?
“you know,” you start, drawing out the words, “you could always make it up to me.” his head tilts, a tiny movement, brows furrowing.
“make… it up?”
you nod, lips curling just enough to make his throat bob. “yeah. you barge in on me naked, i think that deserves some compensation, don’t you?” he blinks at you, wide eyed, like a deer about to bolt. “I — i don’t — what do you mean?”
“relax,” you say again, softer this time, as if you’re the one reassuring him. you tug at the edge of your towel, pretending to readjust but watching the way his eyes flicker, helpless, even as he tries to look away. “you could help me dry off. maybe rub some lotion on me. seems fair, right?”
he freezes. you swear you can see his brain short-circuiting in real time, thoughts collapsing on themselves like dominoes. “l-lotion?” he echoes, like the word itself is foreign. “yeah, lotion.” you step closer, just a fraction, enough to see him shift backward instinctively, shoulders brushing the doorframe. he’s tall enough that you have to slightly tilt your chin to meet his eyes, and the difference sends a flicker of heat through you. “you know, moisturizer. unless you’ve... never touched a bottle before.”
he fumbles with his sleeve, tugging it over his palm like a nervous tic. “i have, i just… i don’t think—”
“c’mon, jisung,” you cut him off, tone teasing now, playful in a way that makes his ears burn darker. “what’s the worst that could happen? you’re acting like i’m asking you to commit a crime.” his lips part, but no sound comes out. his gaze darts from your face, to the steam-damp curve of your shoulder, to the towel clutched at your chest. he swallows hard.
“unless…” you let the word hang, feigning thought. “unless you’re scared.”
that does it. his head snaps up, eyes locking on yours with something sharper than nerves — defensiveness, maybe, or pride. “i’m not scared.”
“no?” you tilt your head, letting your smile bloom slow. “then prove it.”
his jaw tightens. he doesn’t move for a long beat, the silence stretching until you think maybe you’ve pushed too far. then, finally, his hand lifts, hesitant, hovering like he’s asking permission without saying it.
you don’t pull away. instead, you tug him by the sleeve toward your bedroom, backing up until the back of your knees bump the edge of your mattress. you sit down, towel tucked securely around you, and glance up at him with that same teasing smile. “well? are you gonna stand there all night, or…?” you pat the space beside you.
he stiffens but obeys, lowering himself onto the edge of your bed. the dip of the mattress pulls you closer together, the proximity suddenly intimate, like the walls of your room are holding the tension tighter than the steam-filled bathroom ever could. his fingers brush your arm first, featherlight, and the contrast makes your skin prickle — his palm large and warm, dwarfing the narrow line of your bicep. his hand looks almost ridiculous against you, like it could wrap all the way around if he tried.
“see?” you murmur, eyes trained on the way he’s holding you so carefully it’s almost clumsy. “not so scary.” he exhales through his nose, shaky, and gives the faintest nod. you reach over to your nightstand, snagging the bottle of lotion you always keep there, and press it into his hands. “go on, then. make it up to me.” the bottle looks small in his grip, plastic bending under the flex of his long fingers. you bite back the smirk threatening your lips, already cataloguing every detail — his hands, his hesitance, the way he’s trying so hard not to stare.
he squirts a blob of lotion into his palm, staring at it like it’s an exam question he didn’t study for. “where… uh… where do i—?”
“start with my shoulders,” you say simply, turning slightly to face away from him. the towel sits low at the curve of your spine as you settle against the pillows, and you feel him freeze again.
there’s a pause before his hands finally make contact, tentative, smoothing lotion over your skin. his palms spread wide, covering almost the whole span of your shoulders in one pass. the size difference makes your stomach flip, and you lean into it, just slightly, to see what he’ll do. he stiffens, then adjusts, trying to be gentle.
“you’re so… small,” he mutters under his breath, like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.
you glance over your shoulder, smirk tugging at your lips. “small?”
his eyes widen, panic flashing across his face. “i didn’t—i mean—i just meant—”
“relax,” you repeat for the third time, savoring the way he squirms. “i don’t mind. it’s kinda cute, actually.” his ears are on fire now, and his movements turn clumsier, lotion spreading in uneven streaks. his hands keep brushing the edges of your towel, fingertips grazing damp skin just shy of where the cotton ends.
“you’re really bad at this,” you tease, letting your voice darken into something more dangerous.
“s-sorry,” he stammers, but his hands don’t pull away. if anything, they tighten fractionally, fingertips pressing a little deeper into your skin. and god, you feel tiny under him — his whole presence looming, his hands practically engulfing you, his height making you crane your neck just to look back at him. it sends another rush of heat curling low in your stomach, one you don’t bother fighting.
“don’t apologize,” you murmur, tilting your head back against his chest as you sink into him and the pillows. “it feels good.”
his grip tightens, and you can feel the last threads of his restraint fraying. you let the silence stretch, heavy and charged, before you move. one hand goes to the edge of your towel, tugging it loose from where it’s tucked against your chest.
his eyes widen instantly. “w-wait, what are you —”
the towel slips free, falling from your body and pooling around your hips like a discarded shield. suddenly there’s nothing between his gaze and you. bare, soft skin catching the dim light of your bedroom. he freezes. utterly still, like even breathing would break him. his pupils blow wide, jaw slack, ears so red you wonder if the color will crawl all the way down his neck.
“there,” you say, tone casual but heart racing. “now you really don’t have an excuse.” his lips part, but no words make it out. his gaze keeps darting to your collarbones, your breasts, the curve of your stomach before he squeezes his eyes shut like maybe if he doesn’t look, this won’t be happening.
“you’re insane,” he mutters, voice strangled. you grin, leaning closer until your nose almost brushes his jaw.
“maybe. but you’re still here.”
his hands flex uselessly at his sides, long fingers twitching like they don’t know whether to grab hold of you or retreat. you reach down, catch one, and drag it up to rest against your bare waist. his palm swallows the space there easily, hot and heavy against your skin. he gasps, almost chokes, but doesn’t pull away.
“see?” you murmur, guiding his fingers higher, spreading them over your ribs until his hand nearly spans the whole side of your torso. “you fit around me perfectly. like i was made to be this way for you.”
the sound he makes is barely human — something caught between panic and want. his thumb brushes unconsciously against your skin, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “i… i can’t,” he whispers, but his hand is still on you, still gripping just a little tighter, like he’s scared you’ll vanish if he lets go.
you tilt your head, smirk curling slow. “sure you can. you already are.”
as he shifts uncomfortably, the mattress dips under his weight, and your eyes drag downward before you can stop yourself. that’s when you see it—thick and straining against the soft fabric of his sweats, obvious no matter how much he tries to squeeze his thighs together. your lips twitch, curling into a slow smirk as you drag your gaze back up to his face. he’s already looking anywhere but at you, ears burning red, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.
“you’re really gonna tell me you don’t want this?” your voice drips with amusement, your head tilting slightly as if you’re studying him. “when you’re that hard already?” jisung freezes. his eyes widen, panic flashing across his features, and he immediately fumbles to cover himself with his hands, tugging at the hem of his hoodie like that could possibly hide anything.
“i–it’s not — i didn’t mean to —” he stammers, voice cracking in his throat. his whole body goes rigid, like he’s been caught in something he can’t back out of. the way he avoids your eyes, the way his jaw clenches and his hands press down uselessly over the bulge — it only makes your smirk widen.
your hand keeps moving, steady and unhurried, until you feel his whole body tremble under you. his breaths come short and shaky, muffled behind his hand, like he’s fighting not to fall apart already. “can’t hide it from me now,” you murmur, tugging at the waistband of his sweats. his eyes snap open instantly, wide and panicked.
“w–wait!”
“easy, ji. tell me if this is too far, yeah?” he nods quickly, and your only further response is a smirk . you hook your fingers under the fabric, dragging it down slowly, savoring the way he squirms but doesn’t stop you. the material bunches at his thighs, and then—
you pause, lips parting as your gaze drops.
he’s huge. thick, flushed, the tip glistening with precum that’s already smeared a wet patch in his boxers. even restrained by the last thin layer of fabric, the weight of him rests heavy against his stomach, straining for freedom. your mouth goes dry. “jesus, jisung.” your voice comes out lower than you meant, almost reverent. “you’re… fucking massive.”
his face crumples, red all the way down to his chest, and he tries to hide it again with his hands. “d–don’t look at me like that…”
you catch his wrists easily, pinning them to the mattress beside his hips, and lean closer. “like what? like you’re the biggest cock i’ve ever seen in my life?” he groans, head tipping back into the pillows, and you take your chance, freeing one hand to tug his boxers down the rest of the way.
the breath leaves your lungs in a rush.
he springs free, thick and flushed a deep pink, veins running along the length. precum drips from the tip, sliding down the curve, catching the light. you can’t help but reach out, wrapping your hand around him, and even then your fingers don’t come close to meeting. “fuck,” you whisper, squeezing lightly, marveling at the weight in your palm. “you’re so big, jisung. so pretty, too.” you pump once, slow, and watch him twitch in your grasp. “how could you think i wouldn’t want this?”
his eyes squeeze shut, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as his hips buck into your hand. “i — it’s embarrassing,” he manages, voice breaking.
you tilt your head, watching him unravel with every stroke. “embarrassing? no, baby. this is perfect.” your thumb brushes over the wet head, smearing the precum down his shaft. “you’re perfect.” you let your palm stay wrapped around him, the weight and thickness of him filling your hand in a way that makes your stomach flutter. your other hand reaches for the lotion abandoned on the bed, squeezing a generous amount into your palm. the cool cream contrasts with the heat radiating off his skin, and you rub your hands together until it’s slick and glossy.
“we’re going to make this easier for both of us,” you murmur, watching his breathing hitch, shoulders trembling. his eyes squeeze shut, teeth biting his lip as he groans softly, and you guide your lubed up hand back down his shaft. the lotion spreads over him perfectly, slickening him up so that your strokes are smooth, slow, deliberate. you start small at first, just teasing the head, and he jerks instantly, a strangled moan breaking free.
“fuck! y/n,” jisung breathes, hips lifting toward your hand instinctively. you squeeze gently around the base, marveling at how full and long he is under your touch. “god, jisung, you’re so big, baby. i can feel every inch of you.”
he groans, back arching against the mattress, hands clutching at the sheets helplessly. “i — I’m gonna… fuck, i—” you ignore his protests, keeping a firm but gentle rhythm, thumb stroking over the sensitive tip, fingers wrapping around the thick shaft. the lotion makes everything glide, and you can feel his cock twitching and throbbing in your hand, reacting to every small movement you make.
“look at this,” you murmur, voice low and teasing, thumb brushing over the ridge of his vein. “so pretty… so desperate for me. can’t hide how much you want it.”
he’s breathing hard, hips shifting against your hand, eyes squeezed shut. then, in a voice so broken and strained it makes your chest flutter, he whispers:
“y–y/n… choke me.”
you freeze, hand still wrapped around him, staring at him in disbelief. “what?”
“i… i want you to,” he admits, almost ashamed, head shaking, but the flush creeping up his neck tells you he’s serious. “please…”
your lips twitch into a wicked grin. you can’t help it. jisung, your nerdy (not so) little roommate… wanting you to choke him? gross little thing. you run your free hand lightly down his chest, fingers brushing over his collarbone. “you… want me to do that?”
he nods, cheeks burning redder than you thought possible, voice barely audible. “i… i can’t… i just… need you to…”
your grin widens. you lean in closer, lowering your voice to a teasing purr. “wow… i would never have guessed that about you, jisung. so… filthy.” his head tips back, groaning, hands gripping the sheets tighter. you can see the way he’s completely undone under your gaze, how his whole body reacts to your words.
“you really are something else.” you whisper, hand continuing to stroke him, the lotion making each movement glide perfectly.
he whimpers at that, hips bucking again involuntarily. “y–y/n… please…”
you smirk, leaning close, lips brushing against his ear. “you’re lucky i like you like this, you know?” he shudders, breathing hitching, completely at your mercy as your hand slides towards his throat, grip slightly tightening. he tries to speak, but all that comes out are strangled moans.
“shh,” you whisper, looking at him. “relax. i’ve got you.” your hand tightens fractionally around his shaft, while your fingers on his throat are firm but careful. “you wanted this, remember?” he shudders, hips jerking into your hand involuntarily, groaning low. the wet, slick sounds of you practically milking his cock fill the room.
his hips jerk again, and a strangled moan escapes. “i… i can’t — god, i’m gonna…”
“yeah, you are,” you whisper, squeezing his neck a little tighter. “feel how good this is, huh? look at you… so handsome, so fucking hard, just for me.” his eyes squeeze shut, eyes locking with yours and he whimpers. the combination of your hand, the slick lotion, and the pressure of your fingers at his throat has him completely undone.
“so big,” you murmur, letting your palm slide over his length slowly, deliberately, teasing every ridge and vein. “fuck, you’re huge… all for me, and you know it.” your thumb brushes his sensitive tip, occasionally going back and forth over the slit of his length. “come on… let go for me.”
his back arches, jaw tight, teeth biting into his lip trying to suppress his noises, but fails. the sound he makes is raw, ragged, and your hand never slows, palm and fingers moving in perfect rhythm over him, slicked and throbbing.
“that’s it…” you whisper, voice low and teasing. “my jisung… so big… all for me. come on, baby. make it up to me...”
he shudders violently, voice breaking, hips bucking, long ropes of cum shooting out of his cock. he cries out, gripping the sheets, completely undone under your touch, and you let him ride it out, hand slick and steady, thumb teasing his tip as he trembles through every last shudder.
"you’re such a messy little thing.” you murmur, fingers gathering some of his cum, bringing it to your mouth. you savor the salty taste, giggling at his shocked expression
“i — i can’t believe you just did that.”
his voice is quiet, shaky, still flushed, and he buries his face in his hands. you laugh softly, leaning over him, hand brushing a damp strand of hair from his forehead. “believe it, every bit of it.” you murmur, voice low and teasing. he groans softly, cheeks still flushed. “i… i’m never letting anyone see me like this again…”
“oh, don’t worry,” you say, pressing a quick kiss to his temple. “nobody’s seeing this but me.”
