[seosexual]

ao3

࣪ ִֶָ☾. all genders welcomed ࣪ ִִֶָ☾. skz focused ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

for the straight baes soft gays filthy gays no minors plz

৻ꪆ TAGS ৻ꪆ

fluff ☁︎ | angst 𓉸ྀི | smut ♱ | wip ✎

SKZ ☁︎ ✎ Single’s Inferno

❀

3racha ♱ Jumpy!

❀

Bang Chan ✎ ♱ heated rivalry ft. changbin | ☁︎𓉸ྀི♱ ✎ daddy

❀

Changbin ♱ sneak | (hiatus) catharsis 1 2 | ♱ service requested | ♱ fruits basket | archive #1 | ✎ ♱ heated rivalry ft. bang chan

❀

Hyunjin ☁︎ 𓉸ྀི siren song | catharsis | ♱ fruits basket | ♱𓉸ྀིsmooth operator , part 2

❀

Felix catharsis

will lead to old blogs/ao3

skz as youtubers

many faces of cb

moodboard playlist: Changbin - got a crush on you

[seosexual]

fxnxychxld —> seosexual

[fuckyeahkimseungmin]

[seosexual]

I was just reading the singles inferno fic and it randomly disappeared did I just happen to read it as ur changing ur layout :0

this is actually the most devastating thing that could’ve happened to both you and I OMGGGGG😩 I am updating all of the links as we speak

[seosexual]

fxnxychxld —> seosexual

[seosexual]

I can’t even call it cuteness aggression anymore, these men are literally making me go feral

[linolinoing]

@ gnabnahc instagram update / 260702

[midnite-fiction]

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖𝓝oise Complaint

best friend! Kim 𝓢󠁡eungmin x f!reader x campus crush! Bang 𝓒han 9,193 words

in 𝓦hich: you can do nothing but complain to your best friend seungmin about the thin walls of your apartment and your roommate’s relentless sex life driving you insane. you don’t have to guts to admit to him that sometimes you actually listened in, hoping that her hot boyfriend, chris, was pounding into you instead. but seungmin isn't stupid, and he helps you give chris a taste of his own medicine.

content warnings & tags: this honestly became way smuttier than I had expected tbh, so proceed with caution. voyeurism !! 65% of this is dom! seung and the rest needy! chan. eventual threesome, degradation, use of toy, orgasm denial(?), lots and lots of name-calling, masturbation (f), oral (f & m recieving), unprotected sex, lots of things tbh, so lmk if i missed anything! sexual content ahead, viewer discretion is advised.

conversations with seungmin were like slipping into your favourite worn-out hoodie; something that you don't even remember when it had become a constant in your life. 

somewhere between late-night study sessions and shared meals at the campus café, he had quietly become your best friend; the one person who had seen you cry over grades, over family calls that ended too abruptly, over dreams that felt too big for dorm-room ceilings. with him, nothing felt too heavy to say out loud.

you were on the phone now, sprawled across your bed, your laptop abandoned somewhere near your feet, whining about the latest group assignment while he laughed—loud, unfiltered, the kind that made your stomach flip even when you pretended it didn’t.

“—and then this idiot submits the wrong file, so now we’re all scrambling like headless chickens,” you groaned, flopping dramatically onto your pillow.

seungmin snorted. “sounds like karma for calling my coding project ‘a glorified calculator app’ last week.”

you laughed despite yourself. “prof seemed to agree with me if i remember correctly.”

he scoffed, already launching into a dramatic defense of his work, when suddenly you heard it. the soft click of the door. followed by hushed giggles. footsteps. your stomach dropped.

“oh no,” you muttered. 

“what happened?” seungmin asked, confused at the sudden change in your voice.

before you could answer, the muffled sound of voices drifted through the thin walls. your roommate. and her boyfriend.

“ugh,” you groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “it’s happening. again.”

seungmin laughed. because of course he did, with your misery being his main source of entertainment. “what is?”

“it’s sooha and her boyfriend. chris? i’d told you about them, remember?” you replied, lowering your voice instinctively. “they can not keep it in their pants, man, i swear. she’s been dating this guy for, like, two weeks now, and almost every day they decide our dorm is their personal love hotel. it’s so fucking annoying.”

“sucks to be you,” seungmin said, completely unhelpful and way too used to your roommate’s antics.

you huffed, half annoyed, half exhausted, and he moved on, ranting about something else entirely. some professor. some deadline. his voice droned comfortably in your ear, familiar and grounding, and yet your attention betrayed you.

because the noises didn’t stop, they never did. 

they only continued till you felt like you were losing your mind.

to be honest, it wasn’t truly even that bad. your rooms were on the opposite ends of the cozy living room, and the walls were thick enough that you could continue with your work without needing to blast music at full volume if you were focused enough. 

but it was never about the sounds, no matter how much you told yourself, but it was always about his presence. 

the noises started almost immediately— soft at first, the creak of the mattress in the next room, her breathy laugh turning into something softer, needier. then his low murmur, the kind that carried just enough bass to vibrate through the wall. you could picture it too clearly: his hands on her waist, her head tipping back, the way the bedframe would tap rhythmically against the wall soon enough.

you swallowed hard.

“hey? you there?” seungmin’s voice sharpened, his concern cutting through the haze.

you blinked, grounding yourself. “what?”

“you went quiet,” he said. “you okay, angel?”

of course he noticed. he always did. he knew your pauses, your tells, the way your breathing changed when something was wrong. and now this, apparently.

“yeah. yeah, of course,” you said quickly, laughing a little at your awkwardness. “sorry. i’m just… yeah. it’s nothing. continue.”

but it wasn’t nothing.

you’d complained to him countless times about your roommate. about the noise, the lack of boundaries, the frustration of trying to study or sleep through it all. 

what you didn’t tell him was the part that made your stomach twist with guilt. the part you buried so deep you barely admitted it to yourself.

that sometimes, in the quiet moments when you were alone with your thoughts, your imagination betrayed you. that sometimes you pictured her boyfriend in places he had no right to be. 

the idea unsettled you as much as it lingered, and the shame of it burned hotter than the thought itself.

“i need to go now,” the muffled sound of seungmin getting up and moving around brought you back. “you sure you’re okay? you can come by if you feel too uncomfortable or something? i’ll just tell the guys to reschedule—”

“no, no, minnie, that won’t be necessary, i’m fine. thank you for offering though,” you say. “sorry for making you worry, i was just… thinking about what we’re gonna do with the project.”

“okay then,” he didn’t sound convinced, but didn’t press further. “all the best, angel.” he ended the call, and silence settled in, making it harder for you to ignore the couple next door. 

it had been weeks since your last call with seungmin. assignments, group meetings, finals prep; the usual excuses had kept you both busy and orbiting around each other at a safe distance. 

quick waves across the lecture hall, a shared eye-roll during a particularly brutal presentation, but no real time. no late-night rants, no movie marathons, no accidental silences that meant too much.

now that your exams were finally over, it felt as if a weight had been lifted, and you had called seungmin over to make up for lost time. 

you hummed to yourself as you fired off yet another text, wearing your most comfortable tank top and shorts; double, triple checking if he had picked up all the snacks you had asked him for; 

seung seungmiinnnnnnn u got the spicy ramen right? AND the chips i told u about?? DON’T YOU DARE FORGET THE SOJU minnniee my loveeeee pls come quick baby i’m starving

his reply was instant, predictably teasing;

crazy how you only care about me when i bring snacks yes mom i have everything stop spamming or i’ll eat them all in the hallway

you practically skipped out of your room when the doorbell rang, bare feet padding across the cool floor, already rehearsing the dramatic “finally!” you were going to greet him with.

but then you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw him. 

chris was sitting on the couch, legs spread comfortably, elbows on his knees, thumbs flying across his phone screen with that same focused frown you’d seen a hundred times from across campus. he looked up when you froze in the doorway, and his expression softened instantly into that polite, disarming smile.

“hey,” he said, voice low and easy. his gaze flicked over you— quick, not lingering, but enough to make heat crawl up your neck anyway. you were suddenly hyper-aware of the thin strap slipping off one shoulder, the way the shorts rode up your thighs when you shifted.

“sooha’s not here,” you voiced your first thought, because apparently your brain had forgotten the concept of small talk.

“oh, yeah i know,” he looked sheepish. 

no matter what complicated feelings you had about him and sooha, you still knew chris was a good person, who was oblivious to whatever was shared between you and his girlfriend. 

and standing there alone with him now, you felt a pang of guilt for how thoroughly you had been avoiding him on campus these past weeks, your eyes finding everyone but his when he waved or smiled at you from across the room. 

“sorry for coming here unannounced,” he continued, “but—”

the doorbell rang again, cutting him off, followed almost immediately by seungmin’s unmistakable voice.

“yah, did you die or something? open up before i eat all your snacks! don’t test me!”

you laughed despite yourself, the tension cracking like thin ice as you excused yourself, hurrying to the door.

“i had literally been standing here for, like, three hours,” seungmin complained as soon as you opened the door, his hands reaching to loosen the tie he was still wearing from his part-time job. then suddenly his expression shifted, eyes sliding past you to the living room. “chan hyung? what are you doing here?”

“chan… what?” you echoed faintly, stepping aside to let him in, your brain short-circuiting at how easily that nickname had rolled off seungmin’s tongue.

chris looked up, surprised, then grinned wide. “minnie?” 

seungmin stepped fully inside, kicking the door shut behind him, eyes darting between you and chris like he was trying to solve a math problem in real time.

you moved on autopilot, taking the bags from seungmin’s hands and mumbling, “i’ll just… put these in my room,” before you heard the two of them exchange a few words, laughter spilling out effortlessly. you softly clicked your bedroom door shut behind you and leaned against it for a second, breathing.

what the actual fuck?

a few moments later the knob turned. seungmin slipped inside, eyes comically wide, voice dropping to a dramatic whisper the second the latch caught.

“when you said sooha’s horny ass boyfriend was chris, you meant chan hyung?” he was unsure whether he found this funny or horrifying. 

“how do you know your chan hyung anyway?” you huffed, somehow feeling annoyed at this new information as you plopped down on the edge of your bed, arms crossed over your chest.  

“we used to go to the same high school... was in the same friend group for a while,” he said with a soft smile, his eyes drifting to the way your breasts looked pushed up for a split second. “and we had a few classes together this semester, too,” 

he didn’t mention the part where they’d fucked girls in the same room, sometimes at the same time.

“well then how come you never mentioned this friend of yours?” you muttered. your annoyance hid something worse; embarrassment. 

seungmin shrugged, an amused smile on his face. “i mean… i don’t know, you never asked? he’s just someone, y’know? it just never came up.”

he dragged your desk chair over and sat facing you, knees almost touching yours. the easy teasing from earlier was gone; now he was watching you carefully, like he could see the embarrassed flush creeping up your cheeks and the way your fingers found the hem of your tank top, an obvious nervous tick.

you huffed, trying to play it off. “great. so i’ve been ranting to you about this guy for weeks, and you’re just… casually friends with him. fan-fucking-tastic.”

seungmin’s mouth twitched, fighting a smile. “to be fair, you never said his name until like… a month in. plus, i think i know like, i don't know, three chris-es? c’mon. i just never connect the dots.”

you groaned, flopping backward onto the mattress, arms over your face. “i hate everything.”

he laughed fondly, shaking his head at your reaction. a silence washed over the room as he watched you, giving your thoughts room to drift back to months earlier, when it had all begun.

you and sooha were civil in the way strangers sharing a small space learn to be. 

polite smiles. short conversations about laundry schedules and whose turn it was to take out the trash. you never fought, but you never clicked either. there was nothing to talk about, no shared humor, no late-night confessions. just co-existence.

and then there was chris.

you were strangers at first, your life more peaceful when you didn’t know of his existence. 

but then one mundane day you saw him, laughing with his friends, and something about the way he just existed made everything else blur. 

you only knew he was a semester ahead of you, nothing else, but ever since then, you seemed to find him everywhere. 

the library steps. the cafe outside the campus. outside your lecture hall. he always smiled at you when your gazes met, not in a way that felt intrusive, just… warm. polite. but somehow intentional enough to feel that his eyes always found yours. enough to make your chest feel oddly tight every time.

a few nights later, you told sooha, the day a blur of cheap alcohol and lowered defenses. your living room smelled like spilled soju and burnt popcorn, and the music from someone else’s room thudded through the walls. you remember sitting cross-legged on the couch, both of you giggling at nothing, courage borrowed from the green bottles.

“you know chris, the one with the australian accent? i think i have the biggest crush on that man. he's soo fine,” you giggled between hiccups, the first time you had admitted that fact to yourself. 

sooha had gone quiet, just looked at you with those unreadable eyes, then shrugged. “cool.”

you'd laughed it off, feeling happy with your first genuine interaction with your roommate, and had passed out on your bed still in your jeans.

and then the next day, head heavy from the hangover and clothes sticking to your body, you found chris on your living room couch. 

kissing sooha. 

chris's eyes flicked to you for half a second— surprise, maybe guilt— before sooha pulled him back in deeper, choosing to ignore your presence. 

you'd slammed your door as you retreated back into your room, hangover soup or a shower be damned. after that day, your secret stayed buried, known only to you. 

that was the moment resentment took root. you told yourself that it was about loyalty. about boundaries. there was hatred, yes, but not just for her, although she carried the weight of it. 

but if you were honest, the ache burned brighter whenever you saw him. for her getting to taste what you'd only daydreamed about. for the casual way she'd claimed something you'd never even had the courage to reach for. 

at first, it was more than just the noise that annoyed you. it was the inconsideration, the timing, the way they never seemed to care if you were studying or trying to sleep. you complained about it endlessly, venting to seungmin, shoving headphones over your ears.

until one night, something shifted.

you were lying on your bed, laptop open, a movie playing that you had lost the plot to hours ago. and like clockwork, the sounds started again.

you waited for irritation to rise. for anger. for that familiar knot of resentment.

it didn’t come. 

instead, for once, the noises weren't loud enough.

you shifted, thighs pressing together almost automatically. the bedframe started its steady rhythm—slow at first, then building. you could hear the hitch in her breathing, the way it caught and released. but your mind wasn't on her anymore.

it was on him. always. 

your body moved without asking for permission, your cheek pressing against the door before you had even registered leaving the bed. there was a heat that didn’t belong, coiling low in your stomach. your thoughts turned traitor, slipping into places you hadn’t allowed them to go.

you hated it. you hated yourself for it. yet still, that didn’t stop you.

you fell to the ground as your hand slipped under the waistband of your shorts without thinking, without letting yourself think.

shame flared hot behind your eyes, but what was hotter was the way you imagined chris's hands, the same ones you'd seen gripping her waist that first day, sliding up your sides instead. his mouth on your neck, the plush lips giving you wet and sloppy kisses, marking you. his hips rolling into you with that same deliberate pace, making the frame knock just like that. the low groan you'd heard him make once or twice, rough and wrecked, vibrating through the wall and straight into your core.

your breath came shorter, fingers brushing over sensitive skin, already slick from nothing more than imagination and sound. it was humiliating how fast it built.

every thrust in the next room echoed in your head as if it were yours. suddenly his weight was pinning you down, fingers tangled in your hair, pulling just enough to make you gasp. “you enjoying this, huh?” he smirked, his voice making your core vibrate. he said your name, his lips touching your ears, his voice low, broken, and desperate.

you bit your lip to stay quiet, but a small whimper escaped anyway.

the rhythm picked up—faster, harder—and so did your hand, circling, pressing, chasing.

when you came, you let out a load moan, your body feeling limp and hot. 

you opened your eyes and you saw no one but yourself on the mirror in front of you, your arousal staining the floor and your nipples hard against your tshirt, shorts abandoned somewhere near your ankles. 

the emptiness of the room hit you like a shockwave; sharp, silent, shameful. you lay there afterward with heavy breaths, heart hammering, staring at the ceiling with wet fingers and burning cheeks.

you hated how good it felt.

you hated even more that you knew you'd do it again.

seungmin’s low laugh pulled you back to the present like a hand pulling you from under water.

you blinked, realizing you’d been staring at nothing—lost somewhere between the memory of that first humiliating night and the present, where your thighs were pressed so tightly together the muscle ached, your breathing shallow and uneven.

he was still sitting in the chair he’d dragged over, elbows on his knees, close enough that you could see the mole under his left eye, and the faint dusting of red on his cheeks and ears. 

“your breathing’s all fucked up, angel” he said quietly, no teasing this time. just observation. clinical, almost. “and your thighs—” his gaze dropped deliberately to where your legs were clamped shut, then flicked back up to your face. “—are clenched so hard i’m afraid of what i’ll see when i push them apart.”

heat flooded your cheeks so fast you felt dizzy.

you opened your mouth to deny it, to laugh it off, to say anything that would make this moment less real— but nothing came out.

seungmin didn’t look away.

instead, the corner of his mouth lifted, just a fraction, just enough to make your stomach flip in a way that had nothing to do with embarrassment.

“do you listen?” he asked, voice so soft it barely carried. “when chan fucks her. when he gets loud. do you… listen in?”

“i—” you tried to say, but all that came out was a breathy gasp as seungmin put his hands on either side of you, caging you between him and the mattress. his breath tickled your neck, and you shivered. 

you’d always known seungmin was attractive. objectively, of course (or that's what you told yourself). the kind of attractiveness that made people do double-takes in the café line. the kind that used to make you stare at his fingers when he strummed his guitar, and maybe lose your breath when sometimes he would engulf you in a hug and you felt his hard muscles press against your soft skin. 

but you never let those thoughts linger, no matter how hard that was for you, because losing him would gut you worse than any crush ever could.

you stared at him now— really stared— and saw the boy who’d held your hair back after too many shots, who’d stayed up until dawn helping you cram for midterms, who’d once driven across town at 2 a.m. because your voice cracked on the phone and you couldn’t say why.

but right now, with his face buried in your neck, pupils dark and steady, that careful boundary felt paper-thin.

“seungmin,” you whispered, hands clutching his arm to… push him away? but your hands stayed in place, involuntarily giving his arm a squeeze to ground yourself. 

on hearing your fragile voice, seungmin pulled back a bit, and your body instinctively arched forward at the absence of his warmth. 

he searched your eyes for a moment. “you’ve been disturbed by their noise for so fucking long.”  he said, voice just as low, “maybe it’s time you gave him a taste of his own medicine, angel.” 

your breath faltered at his proposition, the weight of what he was implying settling between you. but before the words could fully sink in, his mouth finally found the side of your neck.

a surprised, sharp gasp tore out of you. his lips were warm, soft at first, then firmer as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss just under your jaw. heat exploded under your skin like someone had struck a match. your hands flew to his shoulders—not pushing, just… holding on.

he pulled back again just enough to meet your eyes, a slight frown at your tense reactions. 

“hey,” he said, voice rougher yet somehow softer now. “this doesn’t have to change anything between us. this is just me… helping my best friend take some revenge.” his thumb brushed your cheek, gentle, even if his gaze burned. “if you don’t want this, any of it, tell me to stop. tell me and i’ll stop right now.”

your mouth was dry. your whole body felt like it was vibrating.

you searched his face, looking for the joke, the safety net, the signs of mirth on his face after he would prank you. it wasn’t there.

all you saw was him. waiting. wanting. 

but still giving you the power to end it.

but you were just a girl, with a stupidly attractive best friend whom you trusted more than yourself.

“don’t stop,” you whispered, your lips desperately reaching for his. you felt him smile against your lips as he finally kissed you, and he kissed like he had been wanting this for years. like he wasn’t just helping you get revenge. 

his mouth found your collarbone again, and the way he groaned gave you an inkling that maybe the times he had stared at your neck was not him just admiring your necklaces. suddenly, you felt something sharp—his hand pulled a fistful of your hair to gain better access— and you expected to feel pain at his rough actions, but instead, you let out the loudest moan. 

outside the room, you heard a thud, as if something had fallen. 

“that’s right, baby,” seungmin smirked, giving your hair another pull. “you’ve got to scream for me tonight, show him what he’s been missing,” 

seungmin’s hands were firm on your hips as he pushed you back onto the mattress, the springs dipping under your combined weight as he lay your head on the pillow. you landed with a soft bounce, breath catching, and before you could even process the shift, he was hovering over you, knees bracketing your thighs, one palm planted beside your head, caging you in without touching you anywhere you desperately wanted him to yet.

his eyes were dark, amused, predatory in a way you’d never seen directed at you before. the boy who used to steal your fries and fall asleep on your shoulder during movie marathons was gone— in his place was someone who looked like he’d been waiting to unravel you for longer than you’d ever suspected.

you tried to steady your breathing, tried to look at anything but at his face, only for your gaze to snag on the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders, the faint sheen of sweat already gathering at his throat.

then he moved.

he shifted to the side, reaching for your nightstand drawer with casual familiarity, like he’d done it a hundred times before. the drawer scraped open and your stomach dropped.

no. no fucking way. 

“you think i don’t know about this?” he pulled it out slowly—your slim, purple vibrator, the one you kept buried under chargers and old files like it was national secrets. the same one you’d used on those nights when chris’ low groans had pushed you over the edge faster than you cared to admit.

seungmin held it up between two fingers, turning it lazily so the light caught the smooth surface. then he looked back at you, smirking, looking triumphant. 

your face was already burning, but the heat that rushed through you now felt nuclear. you wanted to disappear into the mattress, wanted to snatch it from him. you wanted—fuck—you wanted him to keep looking at you like that.

“you’re not as slick as you think you are, angel” he murmured, voice low and velvet-smooth. his thumb flicked the base once—just once—and the toy buzzed to life for a split second before he clicked it off again. “i’ve heard it through the wall more times than i can count.”

your mouth fell open. no sound came out.

he leaned down until his lips brushed the shell of your ear. “every time you think you’re being quiet? every time you bite your pillow so hard and think i can’t hear?” he dragged the cool tip of the vibrator lightly down your chest, grazing your hard nipple over the thin tank top. you arched without meaning to. “i know exactly what you sound like when you come, baby. and i know you’ve thought about me fucking you just as much as you’ve thought about chan.”

a whimper slipped out before you could stop it. seungmin pulled back just enough to meet your eyes again. his smile was slow, filthy.

“such a little slut,” he said softly, almost tenderly. “getting off to the sound of your roommate getting railed. using this pathetic thing while you pretend it’s his cock instead.” he pressed the vibrator against your inner thigh—still off, just the promise of it making your skin crawl—and dragged it upward in a lazy line. 

“but tonight? tonight you’re gonna make noise for real. loud enough that chan can’t pretend he doesn’t hear. loud enough that he’ll lie there next to her wondering who’s making his sweet little neighbor sound like she’s being ruined.”

your thighs trembled. you couldn’t look away from him. “min…” 

he clicked the vibrator on—lowest setting—and settled it against the damp cotton of your shorts, directly over your swollen clit. the thin fabric dragged deliciously against you with every tiny buzz, giving the sweetest friction, but also the worst kind of tease, because it still kept him so far  away that your hips already ached to shove the barrier aside.

you gasped, sharp,and involuntary, and seungmin’s free hand shot up to cover your mouth, thumb pressing against your bottom lip.

“uh-uh,” he whispered. “not yet. save it. i want him to hear every fucking sound you make when i finally let you fall apart.”

he dragged the toy in slow, torturous circles, watching your face the entire time, watching the way your brows knit, the way your hips jerked despite yourself.

“tell me,” he said, voice rougher now. “tell me you want him to hear how wet you get for me. tell me you want him to get jealous.”

your head thrashed once against the pillow, the words stuck in your throat, thick with shame and need.

seungmin leaned in, lips grazing yours, just a tease. “say it,” he breathed. “or i stop.”

you swallowed. your voice came out wrecked, barely there. “i… i want him to hear.”

“hear what?”

“how wet you make me, min,” you cried out, desperate for more. “i want him to hear how wet i get for you.”

seungmin’s eyes flashed. “good girl.”

with one hand, he reached for his tie, and the sight of him taking it off was enough to make you cum. he caught your wrists in his hands, tying them with the satin fabric before turning the vibrator up a notch. 

and then he kissed you again, claiming, while his other hand shoved your shorts and panties aside just enough to press the toy directly against your bare skin.

the first real moan tore out of you before you could stop it. loud. unmistakable.

“that’s it baby, make him hear how much you enjoy being heard.” seungmin felt it. the way your hips jerked up against the vibrator. the way your thighs trembled around his knee. he chuckled.

“oh, you like that, don’t you,” he said, almost sweetly. “you like knowing he’s right there, hearing you fall apart for someone else.” he clicked the vibrator up one more setting. the buzz intensified, ripping a sharp gasp from your throat before you could swallow it down.

“louder,” he ordered, pressing the toy firmer, grinding it in tight circles that made your vision blur at the edges. “come on, show me how much of a whore you are.”

you whimpered, high and needy, and seungmin’s free hand slid up to cup your throat, not enough to hurt you, but enough to make you know who’s in control. 

“minnie… ah, seungmin, i’m so close,” you were surprised at your ability to form words, for all that was currently occupying your brain was seungmin, seungmin, seungmin. 

it was all to much, the buzz of the vibrator hitting your swollen clit, his hands around your throat and your inability to do anything. and worse of all? the way he was looking at you. 

“not yet,” he turned the vibrator off, throwing it aside. you cried out, your needy whimpers making him smirk. he removed your shorts and panties, and his eyes seemed hypnotised by the way your juices were spilling out, already making a wet spot on your bedsheet. 

“look at you,” he breathed, and for the first time that night, he was the one who looked speechless. 

in an instant, his mouth was on your cunt, his tongue making patterns on your wet walls that made you see stars. as if that weren’t enough, without warning he pushed his finger inside you, making you scream, fighting against the restraints your hands were tied in. 

“such a fucking slut,” he murmered, the vibrations of his voice against your skin making your hips jerk. “getting wet at the thought of him hearing you, aren’t you? picturing him on the other side of the wall while you leak all over my face like a desperate little whore.”

your breath hitched, and you felt fresh heat flood between your legs at the words. you wanted to deny it, to close your thighs, anything to hide how true it was, but your body betrayed you: another involuntary roll of your hips chasing the pressure, a tiny, broken sound slipping out before you could stop it.

he chuckled, dark and knowing, his free hand coming up to push your tank top aside and grip your breast, giving your nipple a firm squeeze. “yeah, there it is. listen to yourself. bet you’d come even harder if he knocked right now, didn’t you? if he walked in and saw what a pathetic, cock-hungry mess you turn into the second someone teases this slutty cunt.”

he inserted another finger inside you, and your back arched off the bed with a choked moan. your cheeks burned; shame and arousal twisted so tight in your stomach you could barely breathe. you shook your head weakly, no, no, that’s too much, you wanted to say, but your hips kept grinding, the sound of his digits pumping in and out of your slick folds filling the room. 

“tell me exactly what you want him to hear. go on, paint the picture for me, you desperate fucking whore. do you want him to hear you moaning my name? begging for cock like the needy bitch you are? or—” his voice dropped even lower, lips coming up to brush yours as he spoke, “—do you want him to hear you be ruined? scream it loud enough that he knows exactly what a dripping, shameless slut is in the other room?”

your hips bucked once, twice, chasing harder pressure you weren’t allowed to have yet. shame burned hot in your cheeks, your chest, but it only made you wetter, slicker, more frantic.

he felt it. of course he did. “don’t you dare hold back now,” he growled, nose brushing yours. “say it. tell me you want him to hear you come so hard the bed shakes. tell me you want him to know you’re getting off thinking about his cock while i play with your greedy little hole. use your fucking words, angel,”

your throat worked, lips trembling as another helpless roll of your hips grounded his fingers deeper against you. any remnant of denial was gone; only raw, humiliating need left.

“i… i want him to hear me come,” you whispered, voice cracking, barely above a breath. “fuck, min— i want him to hear how loud i get… how wet i get for you… how much i need… how much i need your cock inside me,”

your eyes fluttered shut for a second, mortified, but your body kept moving—small, desperate thrusts against his fingers like you couldn’t stop even if you tried.

he laughed softly, cruel and pleased, rewarding you with a rougher pace and another finger that ripped a choked moan from your throat.

“good girl. that’s my nasty fucking slut.” he murmured, lips grazing your ear again. “keep going. tell me you’d let him listen every night if i told you to. tell me you’d spread these legs wider just so he could hear how filthy you really are.”

“i… i would,” your breath came in short, ragged gasps now, thighs quivering, clit throbbing. you were shaking now, teetering right on the edge, humiliated and so unbearably turned on you could cry. “p-please seungmin, i’m so close,” you moaned, your voice hoarse from your screams. “please, let me cum,”

“you’ve deserved it baby,” he chuckled, his tongue finding your clit again. “cum for me, my filthy little angel,” he commanded, voice thick with  satisfaction as he sucked your clit between his lips, humming deep so the buzz traveled everywhere. “don’t you dare hold back. scream it—loud enough for him to hear every fucking second of how wrecked you get for me. let the whole damn apartment know what a desperate, dripping slut you turn into when i own this pussy.”

your body obeyed before your mind could catch up. the coil snapped hard, white-hot pleasure ripping through you in violent waves. your back arched off the bed, thighs clamping around his head as a raw, broken scream tore from your throat: his name, over and over, ragged and shameless, repeated like the only prayer you knew. “fuck—seungmin! yes—fuck! yes!”

each pulse of your orgasm milked more slick from you, coating his tongue, his chin, the sheets beneath. you shook uncontrollably, fingers twisting in the restraints, your thighs around his head pulling him closer even as overstimulation made you whimper. 

tears pricked your eyes from the intensity, cheeks burning with the fresh wave of humiliation—he’d made you loud, made you obvious, and god, it only made the aftershocks hit harder.

he didn’t let up right away, lapping lazily through the mess as you trembled, murmuring against your oversensitive flesh. “that’s it… good girl… screaming like the needy whore that you are.”

the aftershocks still rippled through you in slow, lingering waves. your body felt molten, legs splayed open, chest heaving, seungmin’s tie still circling your wrists, no longer tight, loosened by every restless movement you’d made. the sheets beneath you were a mess, damp and cooling where your release had soaked through. seungmin’s mouth was slick with you, chin glistening as he finally lifted his head, eyes dark and shining with satisfaction.

he crawled up your body slowly, deliberately, pressing soft, wet kisses along your stomach, your throat, the corner of your mouth. “fuck,” he breathed against your lips, voice wrecked and soft. “you sounded so pretty screaming my name like that. think the whole building heard.”

you managed a shaky laugh, half sob, too overwhelmed to form words. your clit still throbbed faintly from overstimulation, every tiny shift of your hips sending sparks up your spine.

seungmin kissed you properly then, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, with one hand tenderly caressing your cheek. when he pulled back, his thumb brushed over your swollen bottom lip.

“i’m gonna get you some water, okay?” he murmured, pressing one last kiss to your forehead. “and maybe clean you up a little before round two. don’t move.”

he slipped off the bed with that easy grace of his, and paused at the door, glancing back at you— spread out, flushed, wrecked— and his mouth curved into something dangerously sweet.

“stay right there, angel. i’ll be back in two minutes.”

the bedroom door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with your thoughts. as you forced yourself to take deep breaths, trying to calm down, you tried to process exactly what had transpired between the two of you.

you had never thought this day would come— you, cumming on seungmin’s tongue and him, promising you a round two — but somewhere deep in your heart, you also felt that this was a long time coming. 

he had told you at the beginning that things between you didn’t have to change after this, but after getting a taste of what you both could offer each other, you knew there was no going back, and you couldn’t deny the excitement curling in your chest as you looked toward this new stage of your relationship.

but no matter how much you tried, there was still something at the back of your mind, or rather someone—

you heard footsteps. but not seungmin’s light, familiar steps; they were heavier, slower. hesitant. 

and the breath caught in your chest as the door opened— and there stood chris. 

he looked… wrecked. hair mussed like he’d run his hands through it too many times, shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbows, forearms tense. his eyes, dark, pupils dilated, locked onto you immediately. they dragged down your body: the hickeys blooming on your neck and chest, the tie still loosely binding your wrists, your legs parted just enough that he could see the slick mess between them, the wet spot darkening the sheets. your brain told you to sit up, to cover yourself, but your body was too tired. and your heart? well…

chris didn’t speak at first, just swallowed hard, adam’s apple bobbing. his chest rose and fell like he’d sprinted here, as if he hadn’t just been sitting a few feet away, his ears picking up on every little whisper.

“i—” his voice came out rough, cracked. “i…  heard everything.”

the shame that should have crashed over you instead twisted into something hotter, sharper. your thighs trembled under his stare.

he took one step inside. then another. the door swung shut behind him with a soft click. he took a seat on the chair seungmin was occupying, not saying a word. 

“baby,” he breathed, his hands on the mattress, as if touching you was something he hadn’t earned yet. “you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

you squirmed under his gaze, happy to finally see him look at you the way you had always wanted, but there was something stopping you from truly enjoying his stare, from telling him to come over and ruin you. 

“what about…?” your voice trembled, trying to make sense with whatever strength you had left in you. 

his smile almost wrecked you. “i broke up with her weeks ago. she asked me to come get a few of my things today, that’s why she went out,” he whispered, his voice vibrating through your whole body. “i couldn’t continue the relationship… how could i, when even when i’m with her, my mind always wandered to the room next door?”

“what?” you regretted not being friends with sooha, because then you could’ve known this vital piece of information ages ago. “but i thought… i thought it was you in her room yesterday… doing… y’know?” you blushed before you could complete the sentence, feeling shy despite the fact that you were literally lying naked in front of him and that he had probably heard you say worse things in the past hour. 

“did you see me?” he smirked as you shook your head no, getting up on the mattress, his face inching closer to yours with each words. “or did you hope… did you imagine it was me, each time you heard her get railed. or worse… did you imagine yourself in her place? did you imagine yourself getting fucked,” his breath tickled your cheek, so close yet too far apart. “by me?” 

up close, he smelled like clean sweat and something woodsy— his cologne, the one you’d caught whiffs of in passing for months. his eyes flickered to your bound wrists, then back to your face.

“seungmin tied you up?” his voice was low, strained. almost primal.

you nodded once, barely. chan’s hand hovered near your cheek, hesitant, then gently brushed a strand of damp hair from your forehead. the touch was so careful it made your chest ache.

“did he make you come like that?” he asked, thumb tracing the edge of one hickey. “screaming loud enough for me to hear every second?”

another small nod. your lips parted, but no sound came. he leaned down slowly, giving you every chance to turn away.

instead, your back arched, wanting him to be closer.

his mouth found yours, tentative at first, like he was testing if this was real. then deeper, hungrier, tongue sliding against yours with a groan that vibrated through your whole body. one hand cupped the back of your head; the other slid down your side, fingers digging into your hip like he needed to anchor himself.

when he broke the kiss, his forehead rested against yours, breathing ragged.

“i’ve wanted this,” he confessed, voice barely above a whisper. “every time i saw you on the couch, your bra strap fucking inviting me to snap it and hear you moan. i’ve wanted you ever since i saw you across campus, looking so damn angelic that you almost blinded me, doll. 

“i’ve wanted you every time you looked away… i wanted to pin you against the wall and make you finally fucking look at me. really look, without your eyes drifting away.”

his hand slipped lower, fingers brushing the soaked mess between your thighs. you jolted, oversensitive, but arched into it anyway.

“seungmin got you this wet, huh?” he murmured, almost awed, circling your clit once, gentle, testing. you whimpered. “i gotta thank him for this then,” he smirked. 

in a flash, he had rolled you over, pushing down on your head as he aligned your ass against his bulge. you shivered when your wet folds came in contact with the rough material of his jeans, and let out a loud moan as his hand landed on your cunt as a sharp slap.

“tell me to stop,” he said, echoing seungmin’s earlier words, but his voice was thicker, more desperate. “tell me, and i’ll leave right now, i promise.”

you met his eyes, dark, burning, pleading. “don’t stop, chan,” you whispered.

chan groaned at the way the nickname rolled out of your mouth, like the words had punched the air out of him.

he pushed his jeans and boxers down just enough, cock springing free, heavy, thick, already leaking at the tip. he fisted himself once, twice, eyes never leaving yours.

then he notched himself at your entrance, slow, careful despite the tremor in his arms.

you gasped as you felt his tip enter, already stretching you perfectly, the slight burn blending into pleasure so intense your toes curled.

“i’m gonna fill you up,” he rasped, pushing in inch by inch, your loud cries about him being too big, too much, falling on deaf ears. “gonna fuck you so good you forget anyone else ever touched you.”

with every firm thrust, you felt your bed frame thud against the wall, the sound of your fantasies coming alive making your head dizzy and your moans louder. 

“louder,” he growled against your ear, voice wrecked. “scream for me like you did for him. let kim seungmin hear it when he comes back. let him know who’s ruining you now.”

your hands, still tied up, found you clit, as you erratically touched your swollen bud. “fuck, yes, yes! you’re filling me up so good, channie, oh fuck.”

the rhythm chan had set was brutal, deep, punishing strokes driving fresh, broken cries from your throat. you were loud, deliberately so now, moaning his name like a chant, letting it echo through the thin walls, through the cracked bedroom door.

“fuck—channie, yes, right there—harder, please—”

your voice cracked on every syllable, your brained so hazed that you didn’t even realise it at first when the door opened again.

seungmin stepped inside, two water bottles dangling loosely from his fingers, a warm washcloth in his other hand. he stopped in the doorway, eyes sweeping the scene: you face-down, ass up, chan buried to the hilt behind you, one hand fisted in your hair to keep your back arched, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise.

as your face turned towards him, for one terrified heartbeat, you thought he would be angry, rightfully so, your brain chided you. you thought that the easy affection in his eyes would shatter, that he’d storm out, that everything would end here in shame and silence.

instead, Seungmin tilted his head.

a slow, lazy smirk curled his lips.

he leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, crossing his arms casually, like he’d walked in on you eating snacks instead of getting railed within an inch of your life.

“didn’t know you were such a greedy little slut, angel,” he drawled, voice soft and amused. “one cock wasn’t enough?”

something about the way he was looking at you, not like he was surprised, but rather entertained, broke you in the best possible way.

your cunt clenched hard around chan, visceral and involuntary, and chan groaned low in his throat, hips stuttering for a second. seungmin noticed too, the way your eyes rolled back and the fingers on your clit when slack for a moment.

“fuck— she just squeezed me so tight,” chan rasped, glancing over at seungmin without slowing down. “think she likes this more than we thought.”

seungmin’s gaze flicked to you once again, your flushed face, your trembling thighs, the way your mouth hung open around desperate little gasps, and then back to Chan. 

something wordless passed between them: a knowing look, a tiny nod, the kind of silent communication that only happens when two people have already decided the same thing long before walking into the room.

they weren’t surprised.

they weren’t jealous.

they were… prepared.

seungmin pushed off the doorframe and walked over slowly, setting the water bottles and cloth on the nightstand like this was just another tuesday. he stopped right in front of your face, fingers sliding under your chin to tilt your head up so you had to look at him while chan kept fucking into you from behind.

“look at you, such a desperate little cumslut,” seungmin murmured, almost sweetly. his fingers brushed your cheek, then trailed down to roughly squeeze your breasts, another hand came up to your mouth, thumb brushing over your swollen bottom lip. you whimpered around the pressure of his thumb slipping into your mouth. your tongue curled instinctively around it.

“greedy little whore. all tied up and drooling already. you really couldn’t wait two minutes for me to come back before you let hyung stuff you full, huh?” you whimpered—half apology, half plea—as chan drove in particularly deep, making your whole body jolt.

seungmin murmured, chan chuckled darkly, slapping your ass for good measure as he slowed his thrusts just enough to make you whine in frustration.

“she’s been loud,” he said conversationally, like he was discussing the weather. “kept moaning my name— channie this, channie that. thought you might want to hear it up close.”

seungmin’s fondly rolled his eyes as he smirked at chan, his eyes darkening with satisfaction.

“oh, i heard,” he said softly. “every filthy little sound.” he pulled his thumb free with a wet pop, smearing your own spit across your cheek. “but i think she can be louder, can’t you, baby?”

he unbuckled his belt with one hand while his other hand fisted the base of his cock, already hard again from watching you get wrecked. in an instant, his shirt was also discarded, falling somewhere beside your tank top that you didn’t even realise had been taken off in your haze. 

chan pulled out almost completely, leaving just the tip inside, making you sob at the sudden emptiness.

“open,” seungmin ordered.

your mouth fell open on instinct, tongue dipping out.

he slid in slowly, inch by inch, until your nose brushed his pelvis and your throat fluttered around him. you gagged softly, fresh tears springing to your eyes, but you didn’t pull away.

“good girl,” he praised, fisting your hair as he thrusted into your mouth in a rough shove. “take it all in.”

chan pushed back in at the same time, filling your cunt while seungmin fucked your mouth. the dual stretch, the rhythm, the way they moved in perfect tandem like they’d rehearsed this, sent your brain to complete, blissful ruin. no thoughts, no shame, only the primal need to be used, filled, and fucked stupid by both of them in perfect, cruel sync.

they talked over you like you weren’t even there, like you were just the perfect toy they’d finally decided to share.

“she’s so fucking tight,” chan groaned, hips snapping forward. “feel that? she’s clenching every time you bottom out in her throat.”

seungmin’s fingers tightened in your hair, guiding your head in shallow thrusts that matched chan’s pace.

“angel likes being used,” he murmured, almost tenderly. “look at her eyes, rolling back already. bet she’d come just from this. from being our fucking hole, made to be used only by us.”

your body agreed before your brain could catch up.

your cunt spasmed hard around chan, clit throbbing untouched now, and a muffled, desperate scream vibrated around seungmin’s cock as another orgasm ripped through you, sharp, blinding, humiliating in how easily they pulled it from you.

seungmin groaned at the feeling, hips jerking forward once, twice, before he pulled out just enough to let you gasp for air.

“again,” he said, feeling himself reach his limit. “come again while we’re both inside you. show hyung how greedy this pussy really is.”

chan’s hand cracked down on your ass, sharp and stinging, and you screamed again, louder, voice hoarse and wrecked.

they didn’t stop.

they just kept going, fucking you between them, filling every hole, praising and degrading you in the same breath, until you were nothing but trembling, overstimulated sensation and their names on your lips.

chan broke first, a low, guttural groan tore out of him as he buried himself deep and came hard, flooding your cunt with his thick cum. when he finally pulled out, his cum immediately seeped out, hot, obscene, trickling down your thighs, mixing with everything already leaking from you. he fisted his penis as more hot liquid flooded out, marking your back.

the sudden gush, the slick warmth coating your insides and dripping onto your back, snapped the last thread in you. you came again, violently, clenching around nothing, a choked sob ripping free as your whole body seized.

seungmin followed suit, and he gripped your jaw tighter, tilting your head back. 

“open wider, angel, don’t you dare waste it.” he fucked your mouth in short, punishing thrusts until he spilled down your throat, thick and bitter and endless. you struggled to swallow around him, gulping desperately while he milked every last drop, hips stuttering, voice wrecked. “that’s it… drink it all like the good girl you pretend to be.”

when he finally eased out, strings of spit and cum still connected your lips to his tip. he wrapped long fingers around your throat, watching with dark, possessive eyes as you swallowed hard, throat working visibly. then he pressed two fingers against your tongue, dragging it out flat.

dazed, wrecked, stupidly proud, you stuck your tongue out further, showing him the mess you’d taken, lips swollen and glossy, a dazed little smile curling the corners even as tears streaked your cheeks.

seungmin’s thumb brushed your lower lip almost tenderly. “fuck… look at you,” his voice was soft now, completely different from when he was calling you a greedy slut. “ruined and still so pretty.”

chan’s hand slid up your spine, slow and grounding, as he leaned down to press a surprisingly gentle kiss between your shoulder blades. 

both men drew back for a moment, giving you room to sink bonelessly onto the sheets, chest heaving in the sudden, fragile quiet. 

“yeah, just like that princess,” chan whispered, “deep breaths.”

seungmin climbed on the bed, laying down facing you, and he folded out his arm, inviting you. 

you giggled as you settled against his hard chest, and he engulfed you in a warm embrace, caressing your hair and trailing soft kisses over your cheeks. “you’re okay, right? did we go too far?” his eyes searched yours, concerned. you shook your head earnestly, caressing his cheek. 

“you did so good, princess,” chan whispered, hands massaging your ass, softening the red marks he had left. “so perfect for us.”

chan then reached for the washcloth seungmin had left on the nightstand and began cleaning you with careful, gentle strokes. the damp fabric glided over the sticky mess on your inner thighs, between your folds, wiping away the evidence of how thoroughly they’d used you. his touch was soft, almost worshipful, thumb occasionally brushing soothing circles over the sensitive skin as you hummed in satisfaction. 

after a moment, chan settled beside you on the bed, his larger frame curving protectively around your back while seungmin stayed pressed to your front, caging you gently between their warmth. chan’s hand found your arm, stroking slow and firm from shoulder to wrist, grounding you as your pulse still hammered beneath your skin.

you bit your lip hard enough to taste the faint copper of it. slowly, you eased out of seungmin’s loose embrace just enough to lift your head and meet both their eyes; first chan’s steady gaze, then seungmin’s softer, searching one. the question clawed its way up your throat, small and scared.

“are you guys… sure you’re okay with this?” your voice came out barely above a whisper, trembling on the edges. “that i might want you both just as much?”

you hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until their low, shared chuckle rumbled through you. 

“we want you, and want to take care of you princess,” chan said simply, no hesitation, a wave of understanding passing between him and seungmin. “both of us. and we’re not gonna make you choose. ever.”

seungmin hummed in agreement, nuzzling into your hair.

“your needs come first,” he added softly. “always. and if you want both of us, then that’s what you’ll get. no jealousy. no games. just us taking care of you.”

chan leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, gentle this time, full of everything unspoken. When he pulled back, his eyes were soft, steady.

“we’re not going anywhere,” he promised. “you’re ours, and we’re yours. however you want us.”

and since then, the noises continued, only now you had zero complaints.

peach notes: lowk regretting the fact that kim seungmin was not inside her, but i felt too tired to write more lol. also, can you tell that i'm a fucking whore for the both of them? 😮‍💨 no lube no protection and allat. sorry if chan's part felt too rushed, lowkenuinely entered flow-state writing min's parts. (#need that) ( pls don't ask me abt if min went to freakin antartica to melt a glacier to get her the water lol, nothing about this is logical anyway, honestly i just needed them to fuck by that point, i'm just a girl ┐(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)┌ ) and wdym there's more than a 100 (hundred!!?) of you here already!!1? thats insane, i could kiss u all. and i'm really overwhelmed by the love you've given me on my first post, truly thank you so much, i'm so grateful to each of you who reblogged and/or left a comment. pls feel free to drop by and send an ask to lmk your thoughts or literally anything, i would love to chat with you all <3 you'll see me next in march, unfortunately exam szn doesn't let me be horny 💔

masterlist.

[puppyms]

The way that they always drop announcements about seungmin's condition half an hour before a fucking code because they hope it will distract fans pisses me off so bad. It's like the 3rd time they have done this and they aren't fucking slick.

[oughtnots]

when your mutual reblogs something with a full page of tags its like. girl (gender neutral) i am filling my mug with coffee and reading this like the morning paper. i am so interested in your thoughts on this post. i love you.

[angelwonie]

KISS ME MORE || lee minho

PAIRING: brother’s best friend!minho x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 13.2k

SUMMARY: he's your brother's best friend, and that should be enough to keep him off limits. but he's just a little too handsome, and you're just a little in too deep.

GENRE(S): smut, fluff

WARNINGS: smut [unprotected sex, fingering, degradation, praise, use of petnames (kitten and baby), dumbification, mean!dom minho] minho knows he's hot and is a menace to society

The first time you met him, he was leaning against the doorframe of your living room.

He was visiting your brother, but the fact that he wasn't here for you seemed to slip from your mind the moment you saw him. An infuriatingly pretty smile was planted onto his face, his hand brushing his hair out of his face as he introduced himself as Lee Minho to your family, not even sparing you a single glance. 

Lee Minho. 

It tasted good on your tongue, his name.

You wanted him already.

Lee Minho.

He'd met your brother a few years earlier, since they were both obsessed with dancing. Apparently, Minho was the best dancer on the team. Not that it came as a surprise when Chan brought it up at the dining table later that evening. You had already come to the conclusion that Lee Minho was god's favorite, and, consequently, good at everything he did.

He also lived only a few houses away from you and Chan, as it turned out. Basically a neighbor, your mom had commented when he revealed his address and you nodded along – did this mean you'd get to see him often?

That question was answered fairly quickly as Chan assured everyone they'd spend most of their time at Minho's house instead – so as not to disturb anyone, he had said. Oh, what a caring brother you had. At that moment you wanted to strangle him to death. Didn't he understand that Lee Minho was the most handsome boy you'd ever seen in your life? 

Or maybe he did understand, and that whole 'staying away from the Bang residency' thing was intentional because he, being the logical sibling, knew that if you happened to fall in love with his best friend, everything would become really awkward. 

Which, yeah, sure, makes sense. Lee Minho is, after all, your brother's best friend. You shouldn't like him, and he shouldn't like you.

Having gathered that information, it’s pretty obvious that there is just no fucking way that you have a chance with him. 

Right?

—

Two pm. That’s when his dancing lessons start. You haven’t memorized his schedule or anything – you’re not a creep, obviously – you know this solely because your brother shares that class with him. Yeah. It has nothing to do with the fact that you enjoy every second you can spend outside the dance hall, able to let your stare rest on Minho without seeming desperate. Because if there’s anything you dread more than him not paying attention to you, it’s him thinking of you as Chan’s pathetic little sister. 

It’s fun watching him dance. He’s so good at it that it’s mesmerizing, his movements clean and gaze focused as he learns the choreography way quicker than the rest of the dancers. It’s no secret that he’s better than them, yet it doesn’t seem to bother them. Maybe it shouldn’t bother you, either. If only him being out of your league was the only problem. But it isn’t, so you decide not to think about it anymore, and rather focus on the homework in front of you as you wait for your brother to finish class.

Except it’s very hard to take your eyes off someone who looks like him at that very moment – shirt sweaty and sticking to his body, accentuating his arms a little too well. You almost choke on air as he thrusts his hips forward – something that surely is a part of the choreography but shouldn’t be, because it makes you bite your lip and press your thighs together, thinking that you wouldn’t have anything against having those pretty hands of his wrapped around your neck as he thrusts into you like that. 

You sigh and look away when they stop dancing, mentally slapping yourself. You've gone completely crazy, developing a crush on your brother's best friend, that's for sure.

“Hey, did you wait long?” You hear your brother’s voice to your right and you turn around to face him, pushing away your previous thoughts as your eyes land on his frame.

It takes all of your mental strength not to scream when you see that Chan isn’t the only person headed towards you as he leaves class, but that he’s accompanied by none other than Lee Minho – the guy whose dick you were thinking about just a minute ago. Shit, that’s just your luck isn’t it? Obviously, he just had to be here, and obviously, the one time you wish he wouldn’t pay attention to you, he does. You try your best not to look too caught off guard as you feel your face heat up from the way Minho’s eyes are set on you, cursing the world for the awful timing.

“You’re coming with us?” You blurt out in his direction, forcing your gaze to stay away from the way his soaked through white shirt allows you to see everything underneath and to focus on looking him right in the eye. Which is hard enough by itself, because his stare is so strong you fear your legs will give out from underneath you. 

“Yeah,” He says, and you swear his voice has gotten even more attractive since you heard him last. “Is that a problem?” 

“Of course not,” Chan answers for you. “We just need to finish practicing the choreo. We’ll be outside anyway, so we won’t bother you, right, Y/N?”

“Right.”

You’re quick to gather your things, relieved that when your eyes land on Minho’s frame again, he’s no longer looking at you, his face stoic like it usually is. The three of you head towards the bus stop, and you’re happy that it arrives after less than a minute, certain that this is an opportunity to sit somewhere where you can silently admire the dancer without him catching your stare. Unfortunately for you, the bus is packed with people eager to get home and there are no sitting spots available, forcing the three of you to squeeze your way through the crowd and into a corner.

You feel goosebumps spread across your skin as Minho’s shoulder accidentally brushes over yours, clutching your bag a little harder and biting your lip. It’s so unfamiliar, having him this close to you, so close that you can hear his breathing. You’re sure that if you moved only a little to the left, you’d be able to hear his heartbeat, too. A small gasp leaves your mouth as the bus abruptly moves, making you almost lose your balance. Thankfully, you manage to grab the handle above your head to steady yourself before you trip. 

It takes you a total of two and a half seconds to realize it’s the same handle that Minho’s holding. It takes you another three to realize you’re literally holding onto his fucking hand, that your skin is in contact with Lee Minho’s skin.

Holy shit.

You retrieve your hand so fast that you didn’t even know you could react that quickly, and it feels like your heart is about to burst out of your chest as you look everywhere just not in his direction. Did he notice that? Of course he did, how could he not? You held onto his hand, for fuck’s sake! And even if he didn’t care about that, he surely must’ve raised a brow at how you reacted to the physical contact. Like a crazy person. God, there is just no way you can ever look him in the eye after this. 

The rest of the ride you just keep your eyes planted to the floor, hoping you don't look as embarrassed as you feel. 

“We’re here,” You hear Chan say after a while, more to his friend than to you.

You wait for them to go first, not wanting to draw more attention to yourself, but your plan fails the moment Minho turns around in the doorway, looking at you expectantly. “You coming?” 

This time, as you’re walking past him, you make sure not to let your shoulder come in contact with his, but it doesn’t change the way your skin tingles when you meet his gaze for a split second. God, it’s going to be a long walk home. 

Fortunately for you, there’s a limit to how long a three hundred meters walk can last, and so after a couple of minutes, you’ve arrived. You waste no time going up to your room while Chan and Minho stay downstairs. The moment you enter the room it feels like you can finally breathe. 

Sitting down by the window, you calm yourself down, for the first time in your life happy to be away from your brother’s annoyingly hot best friend. You even manage to forget him for a while, almost too caught up in your homework to notice the two boys practicing on the lawn beneath your window. Almost.

In your defense, Minho’s impossible not to notice. You catch a glimpse of him – brows furrowed and forehead glistening in sweat – and it’s enough to make you admire him shamelessly from where you’re sitting, homework long forgotten. He dances with Chan for a while, explaining the moves to him and adjusting his shoulders when they’re positioned wrong, and it makes you wish you were in his place right now – having Minho’s fingers touch your skin, his attention set on you and not your godforsaken brother. Then, your eyes follow him as he leaves Chan alone, moving to where his bag lies and taking something out of it.

You can see the muscles on his arm flex as he opens his water bottle, before bringing it to his lips and throwing his head back to drink. Your mouth waters at the sight of his exposed neck and the veins on his fingers that are gripping the bottle tightly. It’s shameful how easy he can get you worked up – a throb forming in between your legs already, despite the action being quite unharmful. To anyone who doesn’t fantasize about him, obviously. Which excludes you.

Your heart gets caught up in your throat when you catch Minho smirking up at you, his eyes looking directly into yours and you’re frozen in place for a second, unsure of what to do with yourself. Finally, you tear your gaze away from him, utterly embarrassed for what seems like the nth time today. 

—

Nothing can top the relief you feel when Minho announces he's heading home after spending a good two hours at your and Chan's house. Unfortunately, he also promises to be back tomorrow after your brother’s swimming practice, so that they can perfect the choreography. (Which is, by the way, so unnecessary, because you've seen Minho dance and that choreography needs no more perfecting on his end.) Usually, you wouldn't have minded at all, but after today's humiliating incidents you'd prefer not to face him in the nearest future. But as usual, the world doesn't really listen to your wishes.

Actually, the world must hate you, absolutely fucking despise you, because the next day Minho manages to arrive too early, knocking on the door a whole hour before Chan's practice is supposed to end. 

“I’m not interested!” You shout as you hear a fist banging against your door, your first thought being that the person outside is some kind of salesman.

“You’re not interested? Aw, why not?” 

You freeze hearing his voice, eyes widening in shock. What. The. Fuck? Why is he here so early? Surely your brother must’ve told him when he’d be home, and you knew Minho wasn’t one to just forget things. Another thing that declared you fucked right now because there was just no way he hadn’t taken pride in the way he caught you staring at him yesterday. But, you had to open the door or you’d never hear the end of it. Besides, Minho already knew you were home since you’d recklessly shouted at him. Shit, you should’ve just stayed quiet. But who knows, maybe you’d gotten lucky and he had actually forgotten when your brother's practice ended, so he’d just leave and come back later. 

“My brother’s not home until seven,” You say the moment you open the door, met with his signature smirk and his hands buried in the pockets of his perfectly fitting jeans. “You’re early.”

“Really?” The way he says it makes you feel like it doesn’t really surprise him. His smirk widens as he eyes you up and down, and you feel very exposed as his gaze falls first on your lips and then slides down to your cleavage, where they linger a little too long than they should. “My bad, I thought he said six. Mind if I wait here meanwhile?” 

He doesn’t really wait for your response, walking past you and into the house like it’s his own, his shoulder brushing over yours just like yesterday. You roll your eyes at him while closing the door as you see him throw his backpack onto the couch you were peacefully sitting on just a few moments ago. He makes himself at home, turning on the tv and putting his arms behind his neck. You can’t help but notice that he looks hot like this, relaxed and sprawled out on your couch. 

But it doesn't matter. He's here for your brother, not you. So you turn your back to him and walk into the kitchen under the excuse of making food, yet in reality, just doing anything so you won't have to look at his stupidly handsome face. 

“You do realize Chan’s not gonna be home for another hour, right?” You say as you start cutting up some fruit. 

“Yeah, why?” You hear Minho chuckle from the couch, and you can almost feel the way his stare is set on you. “Can’t handle my presence?” 

“Didn’t say that. I’m just saying you might get bored.”

You’re so focused on keeping your eyes on the food in front of you that you don’t even notice Minho has walked into the kitchen, before you feel his warm breath fan against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. Your heart jumps in your chest and you turn around to face him in reflex. It's embarrassing how loud you can feel your heart pounding in your chest, and that sensation is only heightened as he smiles down on you, faces closer to each other than they’ve ever been. 

“Do you find this boring?”

His voice is raspy, with a hint of amusement in it as he lets his hand graze your skin when he brushes your hair out of your face. You suck in a breath, silently cursing your heart for almost beating out of your chest at such a small gesture and hoping to god your flustered state went unnoticed by the boy. But is there really a possibility of anything going unnoticed when two people are in such close proximity? 

Do you find this boring? Such a stupid question to ask. Listening to your heartbeat would be enough to answer it. Looking into your wide eyes would be enough to answer it. Watching how your body reacts to his touch would be enough to answer it. The answer is out in the open for him to see, and you know he sees it. And surprisingly, it doesn’t make you want to run and hide. Sure, it makes you nervous as fuck – having him look at you like that, so intently, yet so carefully – but it doesn’t make you want to run. If anything, it makes you want to stay. 

“No,” You say, uselessly. “I don’t.” 

A smile spreads itself across his lips. Not a smirk, a smile. And oh god, do you feel weak in the knees when he looks at you like that. You want to say something more – hear him talk about himself or maybe ask for his number. It doesn’t even matter, really, you just want to hear his voice, and feel his touch like you did a few moments ago. He’s waiting for you to say something, you can see it in the way his eyes are glancing between your eyes and lips, and it makes you wonder whether he’s thinking of kissing you. Or if he’d kiss you if you asked him to. 

“I…” You trail off, breath caught up in your throat as Minho leans closer to you, tilting his head to the side slightly. He’s so close that you can smell him now, the scent of his cologne filling your senses, and it makes you feel even more intoxicated with him. You’ve smelt his perfume before as he walked by, but this is different. This time, his face is millimeters away from yours as he licks his lips and you swear he’s doing it on purpose just to set you off. And you have to admit it’s working. 

“You…?” His tone is teasing, while his touch is featherlight as he lets his fingers graze your bare shoulder – seemingly innocent, but you know he’s doing it just to see you shiver in excitement. And you do even more so when his hand drops to your thigh, causing you to suck in a breath loudly before you can stop yourself. You can see a small smirk forming on his lips at your actions, and you’re about to say something to defend yourself when you hear the front door open, making you jump slightly.

“I’m home!”

Minho doesn’t even flinch hearing your brother’s voice, his eyelids half closed as his gaze still rests on you, hot breath hitting your lips as he awaits your next move. And it’s half relieved, half frustrated that you turn away from him, walking a couple of feet away so it looks natural. What the hell just happened? You're left to ponder that question as your brother walks into the room and you hear him and Minho talking. 

Even as he's speaking with Chan, he doesn't fail to meet your gaze when you let it linger on his frame for a little too long. And it’s in defeat that you realize there are butterflies fluttering in your stomach when he sends you a subtle wink. 

—

School is hell, but it’s even worse when you catch yourself staring at your brother’s best friend way too many times. Especially since he seems to catch you doing it, too. 

You swear he’s everywhere. In the hallway when you’re walking to class, sitting by a nearby table when you’re in the cafeteria eating lunch and walking out of the building exactly when you’re sitting outside, peacefully reading a book. You just can’t escape him and the amused look he sends you every time he sees your gaze land on his frame. 

And while it probably doesn’t even look like he’s paying you any attention to bypassers, you’ve grown to know him enough to tell that it’s not accidentally that he lifts up his shirt to wipe his sweat exactly as you’re walking by the football field. Or maybe it is an accident and you’re just delusional. Either way, it’s embarrassing how something like that is enough to make your face grow hot and turn your gaze anywhere else than him and his stupidly pretty face.

After all that, it’s obvious that what you want the most is to get some peace and finally be able to breathe freely without thinking of Lee Minho. Which is why you head towards one of the less crowded places on campus when your classes finish, sitting down on a bench and taking out your book that you’ve barely begun reading due to all the recent events. However, you’re not able to relish in the silence for too long before you hear a voice behind you, catching you off guard.

“What book are you reading?”

“What?” You ask, turning around to look Minho in the eyes and being met with a hint of curiosity in them. 

“I asked you what book you’re reading,” He repeats, leaning his arm on the bench like he didn’t just scare the living shit out of you. “You were so caught up in it that you didn’t even notice me, so it must be good, right?”

“Not really, it’s my chemistry book. Didn't have anything better to do than study anyway.”

You’re kind of surprised when Minho lets out a snort of laughter at your words, and you realize it’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh while talking to you. You could get used to that, actually – hearing him laugh. The way his eyes light up when he does it makes you feel weirdly happy, it’s like he actually enjoys your presence. Oh god, you really hope he does. You really hope that he doesn’t look at you like Chan’s annoying little sister, because that would completely ruin everything.

“Anyway, I came to ask you whether you want to grab a coffee with me,” He says, a smile still planted onto his face. “Pretty sure that's more entertaining than studying for your chemistry exam.”

“Sure,” For a second, your face lights up, but then it falters again. “Not sure Chan would want me there, though. Wouldn’t wanna ruin his time with his friends.”

“I never mentioned anything about Chan, though, did I?”

You open your mouth to reply and then close it again when he pokes your cheek with his finger. It’s so unexpected that your eyes go wide – so wide you’re afraid you might look like a fish or something – but it also doesn’t last long, because one blink of your eyes later his finger is gone and you’re left face to face with the most handsome boy in the world. He’s very close to you – did he lean forward or were just too busy staring at every inch of him to notice that he was this close to you all along? 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He tilts his head to the side with a smirk, and you avert your gaze immediately, making him chuckle. What a nuisance, you think to yourself. You want him so bad it hurts. “Come on, let’s go before the high schoolers take all the best spots.”

You must look a little unconvinced, because he soon speaks again. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it doesn’t get boring.”

And he winks – something that makes your heart drop to your stomach and screams at you that this is a bad idea, considering how he’s your brother’s best friend. 

But you don’t really get to think that through because suddenly, he’s walking away with his bag thrown over his shoulder, and you pick up your things in an instant and jog up to him, like you weren’t just considering going home a minute ago. You still make an effort to scoff really loudly as you catch up with him just so he doesn’t think that little wink had any impact on you, but he chooses to ignore it, burying his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he crosses the road. 

Chan would totally freak out if he saw you right now, you think to yourself, walking into a dimly lit cafe side by side with his best friend. Why exactly are you doing this again? You look at Minho and he flashes you a smile that makes you want to cry into a pillow. Ah. That's why you're doing this. 

“I’ll have an americano,” Minho tells the waitress a few minutes later from where you're sitting by a table in the corner of the cafe. “And you?”

The waitress is looking at you expectantly, but your eyes are set on Minho and his t-shirt that looks a little too small and hugs his muscles a little too well. He’s wearing piercings, too – one in his right ear and two in his left. He doesn’t wear them when he dances, so you’ve never really seen him with them on. They suit him. A little too much. 

“Iced latte,” You say mindlessly as Minho asks again, and you can see him raise a brow at your lack of responsiveness. The waitress walks away, and before Minho can ask you what you were thinking about, you ask a question to fill the silence. “Don’t you have dancing lessons today?”

Dumb question. You know he doesn’t have any dancing lessons today. And from how he’s looking at you, it’s not hard to tell he knows it’s a stupid question. God, this is like your first time speaking to him one on one and here you are, embarrassing yourself to no end. 

“You know I don’t,” One corner of his lips quirk up in amusement. “Me and your brother have the same schedule.”

“How come I need to remember everything about his schedule?” You mumble under your breath, fiddling with your fingers because you’re 99 percent sure Minho now thinks you’re just his best friend’s helpless little sister that has a hopeless crush on him. Which you are. But still. If you appear so nervous all the time you’re never going to get that dick.

Right as you’re about to seduce him with your charms, a waiter gives you your drinks. He’s handsome, with sharp eyes and a kind smile. Probably would have landed a role in a kdrama had he tried. When he flashes his pearl white teeth in your direction, it’s like you can’t hold back from smiling back. 

“Here are your drinks.” 

He puts them on the table and smiles wider at you, almost completely ignoring Minho. It makes you giggle, and he winks at you in return, but then, as the waiter retracts his hand from the table, he manages to push the teaspoon lying next to Minho’s coffee cup onto the floor by accident. Seeing his sorry expression, you’re quick to squat down on the floor to pick it up, but it seems like he’s got the same plan – your hands touch as you both reach for the fallen spoon. 

For a second, you’re waiting for that electric feeling to surge through you and for your whole body to grow hot like it did when you touched Minho’s hand in the bus, but when that sensation doesn’t come, you just smile at the waiter instead and hand him the spoon.

“Thank you,” He smiles and lets his eyes fan over your face and dip down to your body. “Is this your first time coming here? I feel like I would’ve remembered seeing such a pretty girl here before.”

You can tell the waiter’s interested in you, and so, upon noticing Minho’s expressionless gaze from where he’s sitting on his chair, you opt to take this as an opportunity to mess with him a little. Why should you be the only one chasing after him, after all? 

“Yeah, it’s my first time,” You blink up at the waiter, letting your fingers trace up his arm until they reach the collar of his shirt. “If it wasn’t, I surely would’ve remembered seeing such a handsome waiter.” 

Your eyes meet his and you smile in an overly cute way, letting your finger trail over his jaw before you place it back in your lap. He grins and extends his hand to help you stand up, and you make sure to stand on your tippy toes to press a small kiss to his cheek as a thank you. You can feel Minho’s gaze on you and it’s with great willpower that you hold back the smile threatening to take over your features. 

“I finish work in an hour,” It’s the waiter speaking – it’s hard not to look in Minho’s direction, but you hold out, ‘accidentally’ fixing your shirt so more of your cleavage is exposed. And surely, it works, because the waiter’s eyes widen just slightly as they dip down to take in the exposed skin. “Do you want to come over and watch a movie with me?”

You can’t keep yourself from doing it anymore, so you look at Minho – only to be met with his eyebrows raised and head tilted to the side in inquiry. Bingo. 

With a sweet smile, you grab at the waiter’s arm. “I’d love to.”

As he walks away, you sit down in front of Minho with a satisfied smile, sipping your drink innocently. And you wait. You wait for three seconds, then four. Seconds turn into a minute, but Minho's still sipping his drink like nothing happened. It’s only when the cup is empty that he looks up at you, licking his lips – which, by the way, makes him look ten times hotter than before, if that’s even possible. 

He leans forward and his knee touches yours – whether that is on purpose or not, you don’t know, but it makes you jump up slightly in surprise. 

“So, are you proud of yourself?” 

He asks this question casually, but the tone of his voice makes your heart beat faster against your chest. You’re not sure what he means or if he’s jealous at all – his eyes hold an unreadable expression and the heat of his leg against your bare thigh from under the table is enough to send your mind into overdrive. It’s safe to say that you’re not able to think straight right now, and his piercing stare doesn’t help much – instead of making you want to concentrate on answering, it makes you want to jump his bones. So, to minimize the rates of embarrassing yourself completely, you opt for a question to answer his question.

“Huh?”

Minho’s lips quirk upwards in a smirk and he shakes his head, smiling to himself for a second. Then, he pulls out his wallet and puts money on the table. He’s getting ready to leave. The moment he gets up to leave, you do the same, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by you how his eyes fan down to your legs, even if only for a moment. You quickly make your way to his side and he looks down on you with a hint of amusement in his gaze. 

“You really put on a show back there,” He says, finally answering your question. Your heart beats faster at that – so he did notice. Upon seeing your expression, Minho chuckles softly. “Poor guy probably thinks you’re coming over later.”

“What do you mean? I am coming over.”

He stops walking right outside the entrance to the cafe and turns to look at you with an eyebrow raised. The exit doesn’t immediately lead you to the main road, but rather a side alley surrounded by three brick walls and an opening towards the main square that you still haven’t walked through. This means you and him are still in a pretty excluded area – you look around for a second, but the only sign of life nearby is the sound of some people talking inside of the cafe you just left –  and, somehow, that makes his gaze feel much harder than it normally would feel as he stares you down. 

You’re nervous, that’s for sure, but probably not in the way you should be. 

What you should be worried about right now is that you’re in an empty alleyway with your best friend’s brother, who could turn out to be a serial killer or something. (No, he couldn’t – this is Minho we’re talking about. The guy who has three cats and cares for them like they’re his children.) But the only thing you’re thinking about right now is how sharp Minho’s jawline is, and how maybe he’d fuck you against this wall if you asked nicely. 

“No, you’re not,” He says and you’re suddenly brought back to reality. You’re about to object to his claim – excuse him, why is he not buying your act? – but before you get to do that, he takes a step forward and backs you against the wall, resting his hand on the brick wall just above your head. “You really think I don’t know you did that to get my attention, kitten?” 

Oh. Your hearts speed up to an inhuman pace and you almost forget to breathe for a moment there as you feel his breath on your face, his nose mere centimeters away from your own. 

“I didn’t-” 

He doesn’t really cut you off, but his fingers ghosting over your jaw are enough to make you stop talking. You feel your heart beating so loudly you’re afraid Minho might hear it when he leans even closer to push your hair away from your face and whisper in your ear. 

“You’re a little bit of an attention whore, aren’t you? If you wanted me to fuck you this bad, you could’ve just said so.” 

You feel your face heat up in embarrassment – both from how you totally just made a fool out of yourself and from you can feel your panties start to soak through just at his words. Well, maybe not just his words, because the way you can see his arm muscles if you look a little to the left definitely helps. But now you’re just making excuses. 

“Don’t worry, it’s kind of cute how much you’re willing to do to get my attention.” 

Minho’s eyes fall down to your lips and you swallow hard. Is he going to kiss you right now? His hand moves to stroke your cheek and you close your eyes, awaiting him to connect his lips to yours. It’s like an eternity has passed before you feel his mouth lips against the corner of your mouth – touching you so softly you’re not even sure it really happened before the sound of your phone ringing fills the alleyway and he pulls away. 

Fucking phone. You grab it a little too fast, scoffing as you see the caller ID. Of course it’s your fucking brother, who else would manage to call you just when you were kissing Lee fucking Minho? 

“What?” You ask probably a little too harshly upon picking up, and you can hear Minho chuckle quietly from where he’s standing. 

“Wow, no need to lash out on me like that,” He says in response and you roll your eyes, because clearly, there is a need – one that you don’t get to fulfill exactly because of this goddamn conversation. “Can you come home? Dinner’s ready and mom wants us to eat together for once.”

“I need to come right now? Seriously?” It’s not your intention to come off as whiny, but who can really blame you? 

“Yes, seriously,” Chan sighs into the phone. “What are you doing that you can't come?”

That question makes your blood pressure skyrocket. “Nothing. I'm not doing anything at all. I'll be there in ten minutes, okay?”

And you hang up without waiting for an answer. 

“You should get going,” You hear Minho’s voice and turn around to face him. His hands are in his pockets again and his hair is falling into his forehead. You have an urge to walk over to him and push the hair away from his face, but you resist it. “Wouldn’t wanna upset your brother too much. Considering you’re already hitting on his best friend.”

The smirk he sends you makes your heart do a dozen flips inside of your chest. 

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

And you start the walk home with a smile tugging at your lips and butterflies swarming in your stomach. 

—

“Minho is what?” You almost scream at your brother when he tells you his plans in a casual tone – like he isn’t ruining your life. 

“Sleeping over,” Chan repeats – like you asked him because you didn’t hear – raising a brow in confusion. “I don’t see how that’s a problem? We won’t bother you, I swear.”

Well, maybe you won’t, but Minho will, you think to yourself. You’re completely certain that he’ll do everything in his power to tease you somehow, especially after that day at the cafe… But you're only complaining for show, because really, you don't mind him bothering you. At all. If anyone were listening to your heartbeat right now, they’d have no problem in confirming that your heart speeds up at the mere thought of spending time with Lee Minho.

“Okay, then,” You sigh. “When is he coming?”

You’re totally not asking so you can run back to your room and only appear after Minho’s arrived so it doesn’t look like you’ve been waiting for him. Nope. You’d never go that far just for a boy you’re not even supposed to like. Like, how stupid would that be? 

“He’s coming about…” Chan pauses as the doorbell rings and your whole body tenses up. “Now.”

You’re about to run up the stairs to your room and hide, but, instead of being a normal human being and waiting for someone to open the door, Minho lets himself in and walks into the house before you can even take a step. 

He looks hot (as always), with his hair and jacket wet – is it raining? you didn’t even know – and blue jeans around his hips. It should be illegal to look this good. He’s holding a bag in one hand, brushing his hair away from his face with the other, and you don’t even realize you’re staring until he rests his eyes on you and flashes you a smile that has you weak in the knees. 

“Hey,” He says in your direction, letting his fingers brush over your hand as he walks inside. 

Your eyes drift to the right to see whether Chan reacts to how his best friend is paying you attention all of a sudden, but even if he did notice anything, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he takes Minho’s bag and tells him to follow him upstairs. 

“I’ll just get some water first,” Minho replies and your brother nods, walking off to his room, leaving you alone with his best friend who turns his attention to you immediately. “You’re not gonna say hi?”

“Hi,” Somehow, even greeting him makes your stomach do a hundred flips, and the way he's looking at you doesn't help, either. His eyes trail up and down your body, sending shivers down your spine, before he meets your stare again. “Why are you staying here all of a sudden? You've known my brother for a few years, but you've never slept over before.”

It's true what you're saying – he's never stayed past midnight, and even those times were rare. Your statement doesn’t surprise Minho, it seems, because he only tilts his head to the side with a smile. 

“Really? I haven't?”

The way he says it makes you certain he’s aware of it already, but you nod anyway. “You told Chan there's no point in sleeping over when you can just meet up early the next day.”

He takes a step in your direction and you swear your heart could beat out of your chest at this rate. Damn Minho and his ability to always catch you off guard… Though maybe the crush you have on him also plays a small part in how you react to every bit of attention he shows you. His hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and instead of retracting it, he lets it rest against your cheek. 

His lips quirk upwards in a soft smirk. “Hmm, it's almost as if someone made me change my mind.”

You’re about to respond – actually, correction, you’re about to grab his collar and kiss him until you can’t breathe – but then Chan’s voice comes from above and makes you jump in surprise.

“You coming, bro?”

Fuck. Him. Why does he always have to ruin the moment? Upon seeing your annoyed expression, Minho chuckles and you only glare at him in response – why is he so calm when you’re dying to feel his skin on yours? 

“Yeah, coming!” He shouts to your brother, before looking at you again with a wide grin. “Don’t be so impatient, we have plenty of time, remember?” 

And just like that, he leaves for Chan’s room, letting the image of his smile make itself at home inside of your head. But really, you wish it didn’t, because now you’re starting to think this little crush might be more than just that. 

—

The next few hours pass by rather normally. 

Chan and Minho stay in your brother’s room, and you occupy the living room, watching K-dramas and eating noodles. It’s a solid distraction from the fact that Minho’s here – actually, after a while you’ve practically forgotten about him, more focused on the fact that you need to use the bathroom exactly when the most exciting part of the episode is playing. It seems fate hasn’t really been on your side lately. 

Resigned, you pause the TV and head for the bathroom upstairs (the one downstairs smells like the way-too-big amount of cologne your brother sprays on every morning and it makes you want to puke), because really, what else can you do? When you reach the last steps, you can hear music flowing through the speakers in Chan’s room, meaning they’re both in there still. Great, you won’t have to worry about the fact that your hair’s a mess from lying down on the couch. 

At least that's what you think as you open the door to the bathroom, only for your eyes to widen when they land on Minho’s bare chest. 

It takes your brain approximately five seconds to realize what is going on – how you just walked in on Lee Minho changing. Your words get lost in your throat as you take in the sight in front of you – Minho’s raised brows, gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips and his muscles on display for you to see, making it impossible to look away. Not that you want to. He looks so hot that it has heat forming between your thighs, and you wish he would stop teasing you and make your dreams of him fucking you come true instead. 

“The way you’re looking at me is making me think you walked in here on purpose, kitten.” 

“What?” You shake your head vigorously, feeling your face heat up at Minho’s words. “No, I just- I didn’t know you were here and-” 

“I’m just joking,” He cuts you off with a smile. You can’t help but smile, too, when he walks over to you and pulls you closer by your shoulders, leaning his face down so your noses touch. “Relax.” 

And, weirdly enough, you do. Even with his mouth mere millimeters away from yours, you don’t feel like running away. You let yourself admire him for a little longer, and use Chan being busy in his room as an excuse to do so. His lips are just barely parted, eyes fully open as they reflect the light above his head, and you really want to kiss him. 

“Can I kiss you?” The question slips past your lips before you can even think twice about it. 

It takes him a while to answer – his gaze drops to your lips before he looks into your eyes again, and you swear your whole body is on fire when his hand comes up to cup your cheek. Gently. Softly. It’s different than earlier, the way he’s looking at you. Someone looking at the scene from outside, someone that didn’t know Lee Minho, might’ve mistaken his gaze for a sense of surprise or nervousness, but when you looked at him and he looked at you, it was obvious he wanted to kiss you just as badly as you wanted to kiss him. 

“Yeah,” He replies finally.

Your heart jumps at that, and while you’re busy figuring out how to calm down and actually kiss him like you had intended, Minho takes the matter into his own hands. Literally. 

His fingers grab at your jaw as he leans down and connects his lips to yours – fully, this time, nowhere near as gently as he did in front of the cafe. You’re unable to move at first, eyes closed as you focus on the feeling of his mouth moving against your own. He pulls you flush against his body, hand grabbing at your hip and you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him even closer – until you feel the warmth from his chest as you’re pressed up against it. 

Your hands wander down to his stomach and trace his muscles, mouth parting in a soft smile when he shivers. Minho takes that as an opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth, groaning quietly as he gets lost in the taste of you – and at the same time making you think that sound might just be the prettiest thing you’ve ever heard. 

He pulls away to breathe, eyes scanning your face – shimmering in the light. But that only lasts a short moment, before he kisses you again, hands on your waist as he pushes you against the door to the bathroom. Faintly, you can hear the music grow louder from Chan's room, but it doesn't matter, none of it does, because you're here, kissing Lee Minho like your life depends on it. And to some degree, you suppose it does. 

Minho’s hands move from your waist to slip under your shirt and you shiver when his fingers brush over your stomach – it's the first time he's touching you like this and it has your whole mind going into overdrive. He must notice the effect he has on you because you hear him chuckle quietly against your neck when his lips move to suck marks into the skin right below your ear. You bury your hands in his hair and tug on it when his tongue swipes over the spots that have you shivering in delight.

“Shit, want you so bad, kitten,” Minho purrs against your cheek before he pulls away, and his words make the heat between your legs even more unbearable. 

His eyes are darkened, hands moving a little lower and grazing your hip. God, he really knows how to drive you crazy. The corners of his lips quirk upwards when you shiver, his smirk showing he's satisfied with the effect he has on you. And there's not really anything you can do to prove him wrong because you're going crazy with every little touch of his. 

You stand on your tiptoes to kiss him again, but as soon as his lips touch yours, you hear footsteps shuffling and someone knocks on the door. It takes all of your strength not to let out a startled gasp when Chan speaks up.

“Minho, bro, you done there?”

You clasp your hand over your mouth, eyes widened, but Minho seems totally unfazed, even letting out a small chuckle that earns him a push when he sees your expression. 

“Yeah, I'll be out in a minute,” He says and you hear Chan walk off, letting you breathe.

“What are you so nervous about?” Minho asks and you glare at him.

“Oh, I don't know, maybe I'm scared my brother will catch me making out with his best friend in the bathroom?”

He smiles and suddenly, you're not annoyed anymore. Not even when he walks away from you to get his clothes, though that isn't the ideal turn of events. If it were up to you, you would sit with him in this bathroom for the remainder of the day, letting him fluster and tease you all he wants. 

“You don’t have to ask for permission to kiss me, by the way,” His voice brings you back to reality, and you observe as he puts his shirt on, just a tad bit too intently watching the way his abdominal muscles flex as he does so. “Just so you know.”

“For future reference?” You can’t hold back the smile that creeps onto your face, and your heart skips a beat when he mirrors your expression. He grabs the clothes he changed out of and slings them over his shoulder as he walks over to you and rests his forehead against yours. 

“Yeah, something like that.” 

Your breath speeds up as his hand slips under your shirt again, fingers stroking your skin softly. His eyes are hooded, lips glistening as he licks them, and then, suddenly, he’s leaning in and his lips just barely touch yours. It’s short, and delicate, you don’t even get to close your eyes before the sensation is gone and his hand is on the doorknob. Right, he needs to leave, or it’s going to raise suspicions.

“See you later, kitten,” He says and you pout, making him poke your cheek with his finger. “Don’t miss me too much.” 

“Why would I miss you?” 

He only chuckles in response and leaves with a wink sent your way. One that has butterflies swarming in your stomach as you wait in the bathroom for a couple minutes. How annoying of him to act like that. Guess there’s no way to hide your crush on him anymore. Though you suppose pretending like you weren’t dreaming about him touching you left the picture the moment you flirted with that waiter to make him jealous. Or, maybe, it was already out of the picture that day he came over too early and you felt yourself melt under his gaze. 

Or maybe it was all over for you when he arrived today and you realized that you were in too deep. Realized that your eyes don’t only widen when you see Minho’s abs, but also when you see his eyes, his hair, his smile. Realized you like watching him dance not because he looks hot, but because he looks happy. 

Realized you’re in love with Lee Minho, and there’s no turning back.

—

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

Minho’s voice makes you jump from where you're half-sitting, half-lying on the couch, watching some drama wrapped up in a blanket. It's way past midnight, but you're not feeling sleepy at all – whether that is because of the kdrama or the fact that Minho is staying over at your house, you're not sure, though the latter seems more likely. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” You say as he walks closer, your eyes lingering on his sweats and shirt a little too long for it to be considered appropriate. “Are you trying to sneak out or something?” 

“Why would I sneak out? Am I being held hostage?”

“You came here out of free will, so no,” You smile at him and he chuckles, eyes crinkling. It’s dark, and his face is partially hidden, much to your distaste, so you pat the spot next to you, looking at him expectantly. “Come sit.”

He looks at you with his eyebrows raised and for a moment, you’re scared he won’t sit down. But then he plops down on your left, hand resting on your thigh that is covered with the blanket and making your heart bang against your chest. You didn’t expect him to sit this close to you, and you’re certain it’s showing from the way Minho smirks at you when you meet his gaze. In response you scoff – as if that’s going to hide the way your whole body is heating up – and let your head fall down on his shoulder. When you focus on the tv again, the drama you were watching suddenly doesn’t seem very entertaining anymore. Not to mention the main lead suddenly doesn’t seem handsome at all.

Minho doesn’t say anything for a while, and so you try to convince yourself this is just a normal movie night with one of your friends. Except your friends don’t smell like cologne for men, nor do their hands rest on your thigh when you watch a movie. And, most importantly, your friends don’t make your heart beat faster and your legs turn to jelly without even saying a word. It’s alright, though, at least that’s what you tell yourself when you hear Minho shuffling next to you, blood pressure skyrocketing from this mere reminder of his presence. 

Though that is in no way comparable to how you jump in surprise when Minho’s hand slips under your blanket instead, brushing over your bare thigh. Suddenly, you’ve forgotten how to think, your skin burning from the light touch. At least until Minho retracts his hand from your body with a worried look on his face. 

“Are you oka-” 

You don’t let him finish, grabbing his hand and placing it back on your thigh with a pout. He looks at you for a moment and then his face contorts into that ridiculously hot smirk of his as he squeezes your thigh. You try your best to muffle the whimper that’s threatening to slip past your lips, but that only results in some kind of choked sound leaving your mouth – making Minho’s smile widen in amusement. 

“Oh, so you did miss me,” He says and you’re about to protest, but he leans forward and snuggles his head into the crook of your neck, spreading goosebumps all over your skin when he murmurs against it. “Didn’t you?” 

“Mhm,” You mumble when his lips just barely brush over your neck, already making it hard to focus on the TV screen in front of you. 

Minho’s hand squeezes your thigh again as he drags his nose up to your jaw and presses a soft kiss to your skin. You shiver in anticipation, eyes fighting to stay open. There’s not much fighting left to do, though, because your gaze is already unfocused and when Minho presses another kiss against your neck, you lean your head to the side to grant him better access without thinking twice about it. Upon feeling Minho’s smile against your skin when he moves further down your neck you think that maybe you shouldn’t have given in so easily. 

Those thoughts vanish from your mind as quickly as they came when he moves his hand further up your thigh – your skin tingling where he touches you, chest heaving with each breath as your panties slowly start to soak through. His lips find that one spot that makes you press your thighs together and sucks marks into it, fingers moving in circles that, annoyingly enough, don't move towards the spot you need them to be. 

“What was that?” 

He’s referring to how you didn’t answer his question, you realize a few seconds later than you probably should have. If he’s making you forget how to think by just kissing you, how will you feel when he fucks you? Your pussy throbs with excitement at the very thought of that – at the thought of Minho’s cock deep inside of you, bending you over every surface. 

“Fuck,” You whine as his hand plays with the hem of your shorts. “Yes, I missed you, Minho. Missed you so much.” 

“Yeah?” His lips ghost over yours as he pulls your shorts down and you help him discard them somewhere on the floor. You can see how his eyes drop down to look at your legs that you've already spread for him, and when his hand rests on the edge of your panties, you think you're going to go crazy if he doesn't fuck you soon. “I missed you, too, kitten, couldn’t stop thinking about you.” 

“Please, Minho,” You beg him shamelessly. “Want you so, so bad.”

His fingers stop fiddling with your underwear and move further down instead, brushing over the thin fabric covering your cunt. You want to rub your thighs together to ease the heat between your legs, but his other hand resting on your thigh doesn’t let you, so you settle on looking at him with pleading eyes instead. 

“I know you do,” He says, pushing his knuckles against your clothed clit, and you let out a choked whimper, your whole body jolting forward to meet his hand. He tuts disapprovingly and delivers a small slap to your throbbing cunt that makes you moan a little too loud. Your heart is hammering against your chest, and it only heightens when Minho’s fingers start rubbing circles into your panties that are soaking wet. “That’s why you were acting like a slut earlier, right? Flirting with that guy. But he doesn’t make you this wet, does he?” 

You shake your head vigorously, but Minho tilts your chin upwards, raising his eyebrows. Urging you to answer verbally, like your mind isn't already going hazy just from how he's rubbing your panties against your pussy.

“No,” You manage to mumble.

“No?”

You shake your head again and in return, Minho presses his finger against your clit, eliciting a soft whimper from you. His hand holds your hips down when you try to lift them off the couch, but he rubs against you again, watching with a smile as you squirm under his touch. He's barely giving you anything and yet you're going crazy, your arousal dripping through your panties and onto his hand. 

“Minho, please,” You whine at him, your nails digging into his thigh. 

Chuckling, he grabs at your waist and helps you lie down against the arm of the couch so you’re looking up at him from below. He slips his hand into your panties without warning, letting his fingers run through your folds experimentally, the small touch making you shiver. He finds your clit and you let out a soft moan when he rubs circles against it, his other hand leaving your hips to slip under your shirt and grab at your tits. Your back arches, pushing against his hand when his fingers move quicker on your pussy. 

“More, please” You whimper in a tone so desperate it makes Minho’s cock strain against his pants. 

“More?” He asks mockingly. “God, you’re such a fucking slut. Have my fingers on your pussy and you’re still not satisfied?” 

His words make you clench around nothing, a whimper leaving your lips as you buck your hips into his hand. For a moment you’re afraid he’ll pull away or tease you some more, but to your surprise, it seems his patience has worn thin, because he slips a finger into your cunt, curling it and making you let out a choked sob instantly. The corners of his lips lift up in a smirk, but you’re in no state to comment on it when he adds another finger, stretching you out and making every word you’d intended to utter die down in your throat. You’re already feeling full, thoughts all over the place, body shivering in delight as Minho’s fingers tease your nipples. 

When he starts pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy, your eyes roll to the back of your head and you let out small whimpers of his name, trying your hardest to bite back your moans so nobody hears. 

That task becomes even more difficult when his thumb finds your clit and rubs calculated circles into it, your cunt clenching around his fingers with each thrust. You’re embarrassingly wet, leaking onto his hand, and embarrassingly close to cumming when you tear your eyes away from his hand and look at his face – eyebrows furrowed in concentration, arm muscles flexed right in front of your face. He must notice you’re looking at him, because his gaze moves to yours and he smirks upon seeing your expression, pumping his fingers into you fast enough to make your thighs shake and your back to arch. 

“Minho, I-” You’re cut off when he pinches your clit lightly, making you shiver from underneath him. “Gonna cum.” 

But you don’t get to fulfill that promise as Minho abruptly pulls his fingers out of you, paying no mind to the fact that you’re seconds away from reaching your orgasm. You look at him with wide eyes, chest heaving as you whine a small ‘no, please’, reaching for his arm. But he doesn’t let you rab it, pulling away with a condescending smile on his face and you think you might cry if he doesn’t put his fingers back where they belong.

“You want to cum?” He asks mockingly, looking down on you and you nod eagerly. “Hmm, I don’t know if you deserve it, kitten. After that shit you pulled at the cafe just to get my attention? Greedy little sluts like you don’t deserve to cum.” 

“I’m sorry,” You sob as he rubs your clit agonizingly slowly. “I’m so sorry, Minho, just please–”

“You’re sorry?” He tilts his head to the side, retracting his hand from your pussy. “That’s the thing, though, I don’t think you are. I think,” He pauses for a moment, only to push his fingers into you again. You moan when he hits that sweet spot of yours repeatedly, bringing you unbearably close to your orgasm with each push. “You’re just a dumb slut that would do anything to have her pussy stuffed. Isn’t that right?” 

“Yes,” You breathe out, a familiar feeling of pleasure stirring up in your stomach when Minho’s other hand comes up to play with your tits, the sound of your pussy squelching with each of his movements filling the room. “Please don’t stop, Minho, please.” 

There’s no way you’re going to be able to hold back from cumming, it’s evident from the way you clench and unclench around Minho’s fingers like crazy. It doesn’t make him slow his movements, though – actually it makes him fuck you harder, fingers curling inside of you and palm of his hand pressing down on your clit.  

It takes a few more skilled movements of his hand before you’re reaching your high, legs shaking as you moan his name – probably a little too loudly, but in your blissful state you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when his fingers fuck you through it, his lips on yours the second you’ve calmed down enough to breathe properly. He kisses you roughly, but not messily, and his arm lifts your back off of the couch and presses you against him. 

He’s still fully clothed, you realize, and your hands find their way to the hem of his shirt. You take it off of him, happy he doesn’t protest, pulling away from the kiss to admire the muscles you’ve only seen an outline of during his dance practices. And despite the fact you just came, you can feel another pool of arousal forming between your thighs when you do so.

“You’re staring, kitten,” He comments, and you turn your gaze away, feeling your face heat up. It's not your fault he's hot, after all. You hear him scoff and then he tilts your chin up to look at him again. “Didn’t tell you to look away, though, did I?”

You decide to ignore him and his annoyingly sexy smirk completely, and focus on unzipping his pants instead. He swats your hand away when you try to pull them down his legs and stands up from the couch, taking them off together with his boxers. Your eyes go wide when his cock stands proudly against his lower stomach. 

The sight of him is enough to make your mouth water, hands already reaching out to touch him from where you’re sitting on the couch. He only laughs, though, planting your hands at your sides as he kisses you, tongue swiping across your lower lip. You whine into his mouth at the fact that you can’t touch him, but he disregards it, pulling you closer so your nipples graze his chest – making you shiver. Maybe you would’ve believed this was an accident not meant to make your pussy grow wetter if it wasn’t for how he pushes his thigh between your legs right afterwards, rubbing it exactly against your clit so you let out a broken whimper.

If he wants to drive you crazy, he’s definitely succeeding. 

“Minho, I–” You close your eyes when he grabs you by your hips, dragging your folds across his thigh like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Like he’s not making your whole head spin by just tightening his leg muscles. 

“You…?” He’s thoroughly enjoying this, it’s evident in the way he’s smiling condescendingly, hands holding down your hips so you can’t get rid of the dizziness that comes with your pussy being pressed against his flexed thigh. “Come on, surely you can form words, right? Or have you gone completely dumb just from sitting on my thigh?” 

“N-no,” You protest – albeit not very convincingly since you’re basically whimpering, holding onto his biceps for dear life. “I– Please, fuck me, Min. Need it so bad, please.” 

A sound dangerously close to a growl escapes him at your words and before you know it, he’s turned you around. You’re on all fours now, his bare cock brushing against the curve of your ass as he leans forward so his chest touches your back. He helps you position your hands on the arm of the couch– which you’re thankful for because now you have something to grip onto when his hand moves lower to squeeze your tits. It’s driving you crazy how long it takes for him to position himself at your entrance, so you push your hips backwards to meet his, earning yourself a small groan from him as he spreads your legs. 

“You’re so fucking needy,” He purrs, dragging his cock across your folds and watching as you push your hips back, as if to urge him to fuck you already. Somewhere along the way, when his dick is coated with your arousal, he complies and starts pushing into you – your eyes rolling to the back of your head already as the tip slips past your walls. 

He pushes in further, your head spinning as you feel him fill you up. It’s too much and too little at the same time – you want him to move, to make you see stars, but you’re partially already seeing them when his cock is halfway inside of your pussy. Your fingers grab at the couch as he bottoms out, his dick . You hear Minho chuckle, or maybe he’s saying something, you can’t tell, all too focused on the feeling of starting to rock his hips into yours slowly, his cock sliding against your walls and brushing against your clit in a way that makes you moan. 

“You’ve wanted this for a long time, haven’t you?” His mouth touches your ear as he speaks, and when you nod, he rewards you with thrusting into you a little harder. Your cunt clenches around him like crazy, and he presses his fingers into your hips. “Staring at me when you thought I wouldn’t notice, always wearing those short skirts around me. Acting like a slut just to get your pussy stuffed with my cock.” 

You whimper at his words, clamping down on his length in response. “That’s not what–”

“That’s not what you wanted?” You can’t see him, but you can imagine his head tilted to the side, the condescending look that gets you embarrassingly wet in his eyes. That thought only makes you tighten around him again and you can hear the grin in his voice as he speaks again. “Your pussy doesn’t seem to agree, though, kitten. Seeing how it’s begging me to fuck you harder.” 

He doesn’t really leave you any room to respond as he drives his cock deeper into you, your whole body falling forward with his movement, mouth hanging open as you whimper. You half-expect him to take it slow and tease you some more, but it seems he’s grown tired of that, because the next thing you know he’s lifting your leg to the side to get better access, thrusting so deep inside of you that your vision goes blurry. He’s testing the waters, but as soon as he hears you whimper his name and beg for more, he doesn’t hold back, letting his hands draw your hips back just when he draws his hips forward. 

“Fuck, Min–” Your jaw goes slack as his hand comes up to slap your tits, other arm busy keeping your leg up so he can fuck into you at a deeper angle. 

“Hmm?” He hums carelessly, finger brushing against your nipple as he pumps his cock into you faster, your moans getting louder and arms starting to shake. And if it wasn’t hard enough for you to keep yourself up while he’s fucking you, Minho decides to make it even more difficult by dropping his hand to your clit, rubbing small circles into it.

If you were having a hard time forming words earlier, you are incapable of it by now. You try to muffle your moans, but when Minho finds that one spot that makes your toes curl and starts hitting it repeatedly with his cock, you can’t even bring yourself to care if anyone hears you. He’s reaching farther than your fingers – or anyone else’s, for that matter – have ever reached, and you’re almost entirely sure you can feel him in your stomach when he pushes you against him to reach even deeper. 

“Min, feels so–” You’re struggling to sort out your thoughts enough to form a coherent sentence, and his hand moving quicker on your clit doesn’t exactly solve that problem. “So good.” 

“Yeah? You’re such a slut for my cock, taking everything I give you,” He lands a slap on your ass as if to punctuate his words, and you clench around him in response, moans turning into whimpers and sobs that are way too loud. Minho notices, and lets go of your clit to push his fingers into your mouth, successfully muffling the sounds you’re making. You moan around them, and he groans into your ear as you suck on them diligently. “Such a good girl when you’ve gone too dumb to act like a fucking brat.”

His words only make your pussy clamp down on his cock again, a feeling of bliss stirring up in your stomach as you’re pushed closer to the edge with each sharp thrust of his hips. Minho doesn’t miss the way you’re tightening around him like crazy, drooling on his fingers and going completely silent except for the broken whimpers of his name that leave your mouth. 

“Yeah? You like being my good girl?” 

At first you don’t think he wants you to reply, so you only push your hips into his cock in response and take his fingers deeper into your mouth. But then he removes his digits from your lips, and you can vaguely hear him lick them clean off your spit before his hand grabs at your hair and tugs lightly, urging you to say something. 

“Yes, fuck,” He lets go of you and lets you sink down on the couch, your sobs muffled against the pillows as you beg him. “More, please, Minho, I’m gonna cum.” 

“Yeah, me too,” He groans into your ear, fingers playing with your clit once again. “You gonna let me cum inside, kitten? Stuff your pussy full of my cum?”

“Yeah,” You sob, nails digging into the couch. 

“Good girl.” 

Minho lands a slap on your clit and it sends you over the edge, your cunt clenching around him uncontrollably. He cums after less than five seconds, letting out the hottest groan you’ve ever heard in your life as his cum fills you up. You swear the feeling of his load coating your walls almost makes you want to go for another round, but as the post-orgasm bliss fades and your head clears, you realize you’re way too exhausted for that. 

You whine when Minho pulls out of you and he chuckles, pulling you into his arms the moment he lies down. 

“You did so well, baby,” He whispers and you hum in appreciation, pressing your face between his bicep and chest. You feel him pull a blanket over you before his lips press against your forehead in a soft kiss. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” You say and kiss his collarbone. 

About fifteen minutes pass in silence before he speaks again.

“I want you.”

His voice catches you a little off guard, eyes fluttering open only to meet his gaze. After having tried to fall asleep it feels weird to hear a sound right next to your ear. Besides, you were certain he'd already fallen asleep, but it seems he's more awake than you are. 

It takes a second for your sleepy brain to register his words and when you do, your eyes widen a little and you laugh nervously.

“Again?”

“Not like that,” He chuckles lowly upon seeing your expression – a sound you want to bottle up and listen to every night from now on. The smile slowly fades from his face as he cups your cheek and you’re left admiring his face, waiting for him to say something more. And when he finally does, you swear his voice shivers a little. “I want to date you. I want you to be my girlfriend.” 

Oh, your heart. Your poor heart. You’re afraid it won’t last very long if you do say yes and date Lee Minho, considering it’s about to jump out from your chest at the very question. Trying to calm yourself down, you almost don’t notice the way Minho bites his lips nervously as he waits for you to respond. Almost.

“Okay,” You say finally, trying to sound as calm as possible and failing miserably. The excitement is too evident in your voice, but at least it makes Minho smile from where he’s lying across from you, his thumb stroking your lower lip.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” You grin, too. “Let’s date.”

“Okay,” Minho presses a kiss to your forehead before pulling you into his arms. He smells like his shampoo and a hint of sex. He smells like home. “Goodnight, girlfriend.”

You don't think you’ve ever smiled this wide.

“Goodnight, boyfriend.” 

—

“Syrup?” 

“Yes, please.” 

You’re currently sitting by the dining table, chin resting on your hand as you observe Minho scurrying around the kitchen, making breakfast. He’s been up for an hour at least, judging from the amount of pancakes on your plate and his hair that frames his face so nicely there’s just no way he woke up like that. Chan’s upstairs (which you thank god for because when you walked into the kitchen roughly ten minutes ago, the first thing you did was pull Minho in for a kiss) letting you admire Minho in silence. And, truthfully, you can’t fight back the smile that appears when you think of the fact that he's making breakfast for you. That he’s your boyfriend. 

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, pouring syrup over your pancakes, and you know he’s already figured out the answer. 

“Definitely not you,” You reply and he rolls his eyes, closing his fingers around your chin as he tilts it upwards. 

“Brat.” 

You grin. “You like it.”

“Not when I can’t fuck your brains out, I don’t.” 

You’re about to respond, but then you hear someone walk down the stairs and Minho lets go of your jaw, turning back to his pancakes. 

“Good morning,” Chan says, and you sigh, making Minho sport a smirk you only catch a glimpse of when he places some pancakes on your brother’s plate. “Oh, you made pancakes.”

Yeah, not for you, though, you think to yourself. Chan catches your gaze as you glare at him and raises a brow. You ignore him and eat your pancakes, only subtly looking at Minho from time to time. After ten minutes. give or take, he’s cleaned the dishes and practically the whole kitchen, the veins on his arms making it very hard for you to focus on anything else when he rolls up his sleeves. 

“I need to get going,” He says after that and sends you the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen. You pout at that and he pokes your cheek with his finger in response. Something that makes your eyes widen ever so slightly, because your brother is in the same room as you two. “I’ll see you around, Chan.” 

Chan nods and Minho leaves, and you’re left sitting in silence, already fishing out your phone to text your boyfriend and complain about how he left way too early. 

“You like Minho,” The statement slipping past your brother’s lips makes your head snap up in shock, eyes wide open. You open your mouth to say something, but he doesn’t let you. “And he likes you.”

It’s not a question, so you don’t reply. 

“He told me about it, you know. We were talking about some dumb shit in my room yesterday, I don’t even remember what, and then all of a sudden he’s telling me he’s in love with you. Can you imagine?”

Your heart stops at that. Minho told Chan about you? Told him that he’s in love with you? You have to work really hard to keep a smile from forming at your lips when you think of him telling your brother that he wants to date you. 

“And what did you do?”

“I wanted to beat him up first,” Chan admits, and his smile makes your heart loosen up a little. “But then I thought about it, and he’s a really good guy. He deserves to be happy. And so do you. And you look really goddamn happy to me. Even happier than when I took you to Disneyland, and while that’s actually kind of mean, I’m still happy for you.” 

It’s like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. A heavy one at that. You think you might just start crying from happiness any second. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” You hug him tightly, jumping up and down before pulling away with the biggest grin on your face. 

“No need to thank me. Just use protection, okay?” He sends you a stern look, and you nod eagerly, not really listening to what he’s saying. “And no fucking in this house.”

Oh. Oh. 

“Right, uh,” You smile nervously, and he raises a brow, when you walk closer to the door. Shit, you’re so screwed. 

“Maybe you should’ve established these rules a little sooner.” 

And with those words, you run off – partly because you’re afraid Chan might kill you, but mostly because you’re ready to jump Minho’s bones after what you hear from your brother. What you don’t expect is for him to stand right outside the door as you sling it open – hands in his pockets and a smile on his face. 

“You guys done talking?” 

You don’t respond, just look at him. Like, really look at him. His eyes, his hair, his mouth, his smile. You take it all in like it’s the first time seeing him – though it’s not, because you’ve looked at him like this plenty of times, felt those butterflies in your stomach as your heart beats against your chest, lips itching to meet his own. Only this is the first time your mind manages to put those feelings into words, and although it’s a tad bit scary, it makes you happy. He makes you happy. 

“Asshole,” You huff in his direction, but he can’t take you seriously, not when you’re just barely keeping yourself from grinning. “You could’ve told me you were going to talk to him.” 

“Then you would’ve freaked out,” He says, pulling you closer by your waist, face leaning down so he can press his forehead to yours. “But look at you now, you’re so in love with me.”

A second passes. Then two. Ten seconds, twenty seconds. You realize you could watch him like this forever. 

“You know what? You might just be right. Maybe I am in love with you.”

His lips quirk up in a smile. 

“Good. Because I’m in love with you, too.”

TAGLIST: @chiefbananaearthquake @minaamhh @vsmz @seungminluv3 @smuchsmut @lmaoracha @allinour @kosmoskookie @newobsessioneverymonth @seung-seungs @smhlino @seochhj @nctdom @stay-here-dont-stray @homelessbozos @cloudyybinin @jusaminki @slinekyu @tokyolhtl @taeriffic @mafegarcia @jellyjelly111 @minhoktty @endzii23 @awesomelycoolworld 

[littlebreakinthechain]

dont mean this to sound weird or backhanded but i think changbin is genuinely so cool and strong for not ever caving to beauty standards pushed on idols. hes very proud and open about eating and exercising well. in an environment where men are expected to be thin and lean he stands out and is unapologetic about his principles. idk thats pretty awesome to me.

[descendingstvrn]

#i also love that he's friends with everyone and everyone wants to go to the gym with him#probably because the way he works out is to get stronger and healthier instead of just to look a certain way#i'm pretty sure it was binnie who taught felix how to do deadlift to strengthen his back muscles after his injury#every member of skz either wants to be built like him or is down horrendous for him. and he KNOWS he's hot. and that's beautiful 🥰 (tags via @geniaparadox )

[250318]

[puppyms]

the sound of those slaps 😂

[seosexual]

⋆. 𐙚˚࿔ daddy 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

part 5 | series masterlist summary: he’s new to the neighborhood, moving into the house directly across from yours in the quiet little cul-de-sac. you don’t know much about him. only that he works on cars in his garage, mows his lawn shirtless like he’s trying to ruin your life, and always looks a little too tired. it’s not until a little girl appears in his driveway one afternoon that you realize the handsome mechanic across the street comes with a tiny family attached. pairing: girldad!bangchan x reader genre: smut, fluff cw/tags: explicit sexual content, praise kink, oral (f & m), protected sex, daddy/babygirl dynamics (he calls you babydoll), porn w/plot ofc, dirty talk, fingering, teasing, switch!Bangchan soundtrack: mhmm - Chase Shakur & Rimon , f****n’ sound - Lucky daye, excited! - dustin conrad a/n: I love when you guys leave comments, it feeds my hungry soul. A good chunk of this chapter is literal porn, so if that’s not your cup of tea, you’ve been warned. I’m not apologizing for the filth. Enjoy :) * ✩˚word count: 12.1k ˚✩ *

When Chan cupped your face and asked what the two of you were going to do about this, you did not see yourself ending up here.

With him hovering over you now, one hand resting at your waist while the other traced absentminded circles along your side, as though he couldn't quite convince himself to stop touching you.

Your back sank further into the cushions as he kissed you again, slow and unhurried this time. His lips lingered against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache. He kissed you like he was trying to memorize every part of you, and somewhere along the way, so caught up in the warmth of him, you didn't even realize your hips had shifted until they brushed against his.

Chan smiled into the kiss.

When he finally pulled away, there was barely an inch between you before he leaned in to steal one more quick peck.

Then another.

Only then did he sit back, slipping an arm behind you to help you lean against him.

"I-I'm sorry," you whispered more embarrassed than anything. A quiet laugh escaped him. "For what?" he asked, turning just enough to look at you properly. "Having a very normal reaction?"

You scoffed, refusing to meet his eyes.

"I think I should be the one apologizing." His fingers found yours, absentmindedly weaving between them before lifting your hand toward his lips.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your fingertips, then the back of your hand, lingering there for a moment. "The idea of...." he hesitated, smiling to himself. "Having a family with you."

You looked at him again.

His thumb brushed over your knuckles. "Hearing you talk about wanting a family with me.…" he let out a quiet breath. "It made me feel....secure."

Your expression softened, "Chan....."

He shook his head with a quiet laugh, almost like he couldn't believe the thoughts coming out of his own mouth. "I've spent so long worrying about whether I'd ever be enough for someone else…. whether anyone would really want this life."

His eyes met yours again. "And then you looked at me and talked about a future that has Jia in it."

His gaze lingered on your face before dropping briefly to your lips. "If circumstances were different.…" he murmured, pressing another lingering kiss to the back of your hand, "…I don't think I'd be able to think about anything else. I'd do it right now."

You frowned slightly. "Do what?"

His eyes lifted back to yours, "….I'd put a baby in you right now."

The words landed with complete sincerity. Like he'd forgotten they were supposed to sound outrageous.

Your eyes widened, "Chan!"

"Hm?"

"You can't just say things like that." A nervous laugh escaped you despite yourself, your body heat slightly rising you were sure he could feel how warm you were getting.

It took him exactly one second to replay what he'd just said. His ears immediately started turning pink "….Right,” he looks away back towards the tv.

You chuckled softly, a quiet sound meant to soften the moment, to give him space to breathe. "We should probably finish the movie."

"Probably," he reached for the remote, fingers trembling just a little.

Twenty minutes passed, though the clock on the wall seemed to mock you, insisting it was longer. You couldn’t tell what had happened on the screen. The plot had dissolved into a haze of flickering colors, shadows dancing behind your eyelids.

Somewhere during the first scene after pressing play again, Chan shifted faintly beside you, it was barely even noticeable. Until his hand settled on your thigh. Not high enough to be considered too intimate, just above your knee. Warm and steady, like he’d done it without thinking, as if it belonged there.

Your eyes stayed fixed on the TV, but his eyes lingered elsewhere, watching you in the silence. Neither of you spoke. Neither moved. A minute passed. Then his thumb brushed over your leg, a slow, deliberate stroke.

You swallowed hard, heart pounding. The movie blurred into a swirl of colors, everything completely meaningless.

His hand hadn’t moved away. If anything, it had crept a fraction higher, pressing into the space between your thoughts, and closer to the bottom of your shorts.

He still hadn’t looked at you.

"Are you even watching this?" you whispered.

"Not even a little."

You let out a soft, trembling laugh. "Good."

"Why?"

You finally turned your head, meeting his gaze.

Because I want to see what you’re afraid to say.

Because I want to feel your hand tremble again.

Because I want this to go further.

Your voice was barely more than a breath, "Because I haven’t been paying attention since you said you wanted to put a baby in me."

Chan finally looked over, his eyes dark and searching, pulling you into his gaze. Despite the tips of his ears flushing with a bright pink hue again, his hand continued its slow ascent. It rested in the middle of your thigh, thumb gently caressing, sending a shiver through you.

"Why….is it something you want?" His voice was low, heavy with hunger, and his eyes never left yours as he watched your breath hitch.

You hesitated, your lips parting slightly, "I—"

"Hmmm?" he prompted softly, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he gripped your thigh, pulling you closer toward him. A small gasp escaped you, caught between anticipation and surprise.

"What's going through that pretty head of yours?" he whispered, voice thick with desire, eyes burning into yours as if he already knew the answer but wanted to hear you say it.

You played with the hem of your shirt, lips trembling as you tried to find the words. The space between you felt smaller, charged with unspoken promises. "I just…" you started, voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t realize how much I wanted this, how much I’ve been waiting for you to make a move."

Chan’s gaze darkened further, and his thumb pressed a little harder against your thigh, slow and deliberate. He leaned in closer, so close you could feel his breath against your lips.

“You’re beautiful when you’re nervous,” he murmured, voice velvet-soft, yet edged with desire. “Tell me what you want.”

Your heart pounded fiercely, every nerve alight. The world outside the room faded into insignificance. All that mattered was the way his eyes held yours; intense, hungry, and waiting for your answer.

You drew in a shaky breath, voice trembling. “I want you closer. I want to feel everything....your skin, your breath, what it’s like when we’re not holding back.”

His thumb resumed its slow path along your thigh, a lazy rhythm that made thinking nearly impossible. “You really mean that?” Chan’s voice dipped lower, rougher. The question wasn’t a challenge, it was a door he was holding open, waiting to see if you’d walk through.

You nodded, the motion small and unsteady.

“Words, baby.” The endearment slipped out so naturally you wondered if he’d been holding it back for weeks. “I need to hear you say it.”

Your throat tightened. “I want this. I want you.”

Something shifted in his expression. Relief, maybe. Or hunger finally given permission to surface. His free hand came up to your jaw, cupping it the same way he had earlier that evening when he’d first asked what you were going to do about all this tension between you.

Back then, you hadn’t had an answer.

Now your body seemed to know exactly what to do.

Your hips shifted again, pressing against the side of his thigh, and this time you didn’t pull away. Chan noticed. His eyes flicked down to where your bodies met, then back to your face with an intensity that made your stomach flip.

“There,” he murmured. “That’s what I wanted to see.”

His thumb traced the curve of your jaw before his hand slid back into your hair, gentle but deliberate. He tilted your head slightly, exposing the line of your throat, and leaned in until his lips hovered just above your pulse point.

Not kissing, or licking, just breathing against you. The warmth of it made your fingers curl into the cushion beneath you.

“Chan…”

“I know.” His lips brushed the word against your skin.

Then his mouth pressed against your neck, soft and searching, and your eyes fluttered shut. His kiss was unhurried, almost reverent, like he was learning the shape of you one breath at a time. His hand on your leg tightened just slightly, grounding you both.

Your fingers found his shoulder, then his collar, then the warm skin at the nape of his neck. The contact drew a quiet sound from him, something between a hum and a sigh, and the vibration traveled through his lips straight into your bloodstream.

“You’re shaking,” he said against your throat.

“Because of you.”

“Good.” He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. “I want you to feel this. All of it.”

His hand slid higher on your thigh. Still over the fabric of your shorts, still maddeningly patient, but the intention was unmistakable now. His palm settled at the crease where your leg met your hip, thumb tracing the seam.

Your breath caught.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said.

“It’s not. It’s.....Chan, please.”

The corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk, “please what?”

A frustrated laugh escaped you, shaky and thin. “Don’t make me say it out loud.”

“Oh, but you’re so pretty when you’re flustered.” He pressed a kiss to your jaw, then another to the corner of your mouth. “I could watch you struggle for words all night.”

His fingers curled against your inner thigh, and the pressure sent a jolt through you that made your hips rock forward without permission. There was nothing to hide behind now, no movie to pretend to watch, no plausible deniability about what was happening between you.

Chan shifted, and suddenly his body was closer; not hovering over you again or pinning you down, but angled toward you in a way that made everything feel more intimate. His knee pressed against the outside of your leg. His shoulder brushed yours. His breath mixed with your breath.

“I’ve thought about this,” he admitted, barely above a whisper. “More times than I should probably say out loud.”

“Tell me?"

His eyes searched yours, checking. “You sure?”

“I want to know.”

His hand moved. Up, slowly, until his thumb rested just below the waistband of your shorts. Your shirt had ridden up slightly, leaving a band of bare skin exposed, and he traced it with deliberate focus as his hands rested at your mid-section.

“I thought about kissing you first,” he said, voice low and steady. “Slow. The way you deserve.” His thumb dipped beneath the waistband, just barely, and your stomach tightened. “Like this.”

His lips found yours again, and this kiss was different from the ones before. Deeper and more certain. His mouth parted against yours, and when your tongue brushed his lower lip, he made a sound low in his chest that you felt in your ribs.

Your hands found the nape of his neck.

His hand slid further beneath your shorts.

The fabric stretched to accommodate him, elastic giving way to his knuckles, his palm, the gentle press of his fingers against you. Not where you wanted him most, not yet, but close enough that every nerve in your body had rerouted itself to that single point of contact.

He broke the kiss to breathe, forehead resting against yours. “And then I thought about touching you.”

His thumb traced a line on your pelvic bone causing your hips to buck. “Like that?” he asked, the question dripping with something darker now.

“Lower,” you breathed.

Chan’s eyes flicked to yours. The pink in his ears had spread to his cheeks, but his expression was steady and focused, “show me.”

Your hand covered his arm, his hand still hidden beneath the dark fabric of your shorts, and guided it downward. The movement was slow, deliberate, charged with the kind of tension that made the air feel thick.

When his fingers brushed against the damp cotton of your underwear, you both stopped breathing.

“Fuck,” he whispered. The word was so quiet, so reverent, that it didn’t sound like profanity at all. It sounded like a prayer.

His fingers pressed against you through the fabric, experimental and gentle, mapping the shape of your arousal without any rush. The pressure was light, too light, but the fact of his hand there, the heat of his palm cupping you through cotton, made your head fall back against the couch.

“Look at me,” he said and you did.

His pupils were blown wide, nearly eclipsing the brown of his irises. The boyish fluster from earlier had burned away, replaced by something sharper. He looked at you like you were the only thing in the room worth seeing.

“Is this okay?” His fingers pressed a little harder.

“Yes.....God, yes.”

He kissed you again, swallowing the sound you made when his middle finger found the seam of you through the damp fabric and traced it up and down. The friction was perfect, maddening, but not nearly enough.

Your hips rolled against his hand.

“There you go,” he murmured against your mouth. “Take what you need.”

His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer until you were half in his lap, your back against the arm of the couch and your legs tangled with his. The new angle gave him better access, and he took advantage of it immediately, fingers moving in slow, steady circles that had you gripping his arms.

“Does that feel good?”

You couldn’t answer. Your voice had fled somewhere behind your hammering heart. He smiled then kissed your collarbone. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

The pressure built in increments. He varied his speed and intensity in response to the sounds you made, faster when your breath hitched, lighter when your nails dug into his skin, harder when your hips chased his hand.

His lips never stopped moving. Your neck. Your jaw. The hollow beneath your ear. He kissed each spot like he was cataloging it for later, filing away which places made you shiver and which made you sigh.

“I want to feel you,” he said against your ear, his voice rough. “Can I—”

“Yes.”

He laughed softly, “you didn’t even let me finish.”

“I don’t care what the question is. The answer is yes.”

His fingers stilled against you. For one heartbeat, then two. Then his hand withdrew from your shorts, and the absence of his touch was so acute that you nearly whimpered. But he was already moving, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your shorts, looking up at you with an expression that was half question and half plea.

“Lift your hips for me.”

You did, and he peeled the fabric down your thighs with a care that made your chest ache. The shorts joined the growing collection of forgotten things on the floor; the remote, your earlier inhibitions, every reason you’d ever given yourself for why this couldn’t happen.

Your underwear stayed on, for now.

Chan’s breath shuddered out of him as he looked at you. His hand found your bare thigh, palm spreading wide over muscle and skin, and he dragged it upward until his thumb rested against the damp cotton between your legs.

“You’re soaked,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.

His thumb pressed down, and the fabric did nothing to hide how much you wanted this, how much you wanted him. The evidence was there, impossible to ignore, soaking through the thin cotton barrier.

“Chan, please.”

“Please what?” He was pushing again, but his voice had lost its teasing edge. Now he just sounded desperate, like he needed the words as much as you did.

“Touch me, underneath. I need to feel—”

He didn’t let you finish. His hand slipped beneath the waistband of your underwear, and his fingers: warm, calloused, trembling just slightly, finally, finally touched bare skin.

He froze, and you could feel it in the tension running through his forearm, the way his breath stopped halfway up your throat. His index finger rested just above where you needed him, and the pause stretched long enough that you opened your eyes to check if something was wrong.

Nothing was wrong. Chan was looking at you like you'd just handed him something fragile and precious, something he was terrified of breaking.

"Chan." Your voice cracked on his name.

"Hang on." He swallowed hard. "Give me a second."

His thumb traced a slow arc over your hipbone, the motion almost unconscious. When he spoke again, his voice had dropped to something barely above a murmur. "I've wanted this for so long that I need to make sure I don't rush it."

"You're not rushing." Your hips tilted toward his hand, seeking pressure. "You're torturing me."

A laugh escaped him, breathless and warm against your cheek. "Good."

But he didn't make you wait much longer. His middle finger slid lower, parting you with a gentleness that made your toes curl. The sound you made, half gasp; half moan, seemed to embolden him. His finger traced your slickness upward, circling once, twice, before retreating just enough to make you whimper.

"Shh." He pressed a kiss to your temple. "I've got you."

His hand withdrew from your underwear, and before you could protest, he was shifting your position. Strong hands gripped your hips, repositioning you until your back was fully against the couch cushions and your legs draped over his lap. The new angle left you completely open to him, and the vulnerability of it sent heat flooding through your chest.

But Chan wasn't done.

His palm slid down your calf, fingers wrapping around your ankle with deliberate care. He lifted your leg, bending it at the knee, and pressed a kiss to the inside of your ankle. Then higher, your shin, the sensitive spot just below your knee. Each kiss was slower than the last, his breath warming your skin seconds before his lips made contact.

"What are you doing?" The question came out reedy, thin.

"Something I've thought about." Another kiss, this time to the tender flesh of your inner thigh. "Something I've thought about a lot."

He lifted your leg higher, guiding it over his shoulder. The position pulled you closer to him, your hips tilting upward, your thighs falling open. The damp cotton of your underwear was fully exposed now, the evidence of your arousal impossible to hide in this position.

His eyes dropped to the spot, and his expression shifted. The boyish flush on his ears had spread down his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. But his gaze was steady and hungry. He looked at you like a man who'd finally been given permission to want something after convincing himself he never could.

"Tell me if it's too much," he said, echoing his earlier words.

Then he lowered his head. His mouth pressed against you through the cotton.

The heat of his breath penetrated the fabric instantly, and your back arched off the couch before you could stop it. A broken sound clawed its way out of your throat, something between a moan and his name, tangled together beyond recognition.

Chan hummed against you, and the vibration traveled through the soaked fabric directly into your core. Your fingers scrambled for purchase, one hand fisting in his dark hair while the other gripped the couch cushion hard enough to leave marks.

"Fuck." The word left you on a shudder.

He pulled back just enough to speak, his lips still brushing against you. "That good?"

"You know it is,” you breathed out, “don’t ask silly questions.”

"I wanted to hear you say it." He pressed another kiss to the cotton, softer this time. Then another, slightly firmer. His free hand slid up your thigh, thumb stroking the crease where your leg met your hip. "I wanted to hear the sounds you'd make."

His mouth was still there again, his tongue pressing against you through the damp cotton, relentless and unhurried. The fabric had grown impossibly wet against your skin, and the warmth of his tongue was undeniable, even with the thin barrier between you.

He licked a slow, deliberate stripe along the seam of your underwear, and the sound you made was barely appropriate; a broken, keening sound that seemed to surprise even you.

Chan responded by pressing his mouth harder against you, licking feverishly, while his nose brushed against your clit through the soaked fabric as he angled his head. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wider, anchoring you in place as he worked you through the cotton. He was thorough. He licked and sucked and breathed against you like he was trying to memorize the shape of you through the fabric, learning every curve and crease with his tongue.

Your hips bucked against his mouth, chasing the friction, and he let you. He let you rock against his face, his hands firm on your thighs holding you steady while you took what you needed. When he finally pulled back, it was only to hook his fingers into the waistband of your underwear.

His eyes met yours. He didn't ask. He didn't need to.

You lifted your hips, and he slid the wet fabric down your thighs, past your knees, off your ankles. The fabric landed somewhere on the floor, joining the rest of the discarded things between you.

And then he looked at you. Really looked at you.

His breath caught in his throat again, and for a long moment, he didn't move. His hands rested on your bare thighs, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin at your crease, but his eyes were fixed on the place he'd been worshipping through fabric moments before.

"Fuck," he whispered again, softer this time.

Then he lowered his head.

His first kiss, bare skin this time, nothing between you but air and want, made your entire body shudder. His lips parted against you, and when his tongue touched you, finally touched you without anything in the way, you cried out.

He didn't stop or pull away. He licked into you like he'd been waiting his whole life for the taste, and judging by the sounds he was making, low and desperate against your skin, maybe he had. "Baby," he whined against your skin, the word vibrating through you. "You taste incredible."

"Chan please—" you gasped, not even sure what you were asking for.

He pulled back just enough to speak, his lips brushing against your lower ones. "Please what, baby?"

"More." The word came out desperate, ragged. "Please."

His eyes met yours, dark and hungry, and he added his middle finger, pumping in and out of your core, as you forgot how to breathe. Once you were stretched out, he added another, making you mewl from underneath him.

He licked and sucked and pressed his tongue inside you beside his fingers, his own moans vibrating against your sensitive flesh. He was obsessed, you could feel it in the way he kept going, even when your legs trembled, even when your fingers pulled his hair hard enough to hurt. He didn't care, he just wanted more of you.

"Chan—" His name came out on a sob as your orgasm crested, your body shuddering against his mouth. He still didn't pull away, instead he licked you through it, gentler now, drawing out every last tremor until you collapsed back against the cushions, breathless and shaking.

He finally lifted his head, his chin glistening, his lips swollen and wet. He looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. "You okay?" he asked, his voice rough.

You couldn't speak. You just pulled him up by his shirt and kissed him, tasting yourself on his lips. He smiled against your lips, a soft hum of approval vibrating through you.

Your hands slid from the hem of his shirt to his shoulders, then down his chest, savoring the warmth of his skin through the fabric. You broke the kiss slowly, your mouth trailing to the corner of his mouth, then to his jaw, then down to his neck. His pulse fluttered under your tongue.

"Mmm," you murmured against his collarbone, letting your fingertips graze the waistband of his pants. "Taste good."

He shivered, hands coming up to cup your face, tilting you up to meet his gaze again. But you shook your head gently, sitting up and pressing him back into the cushions. Not with force; with a slow, irresistible pressure, your body following him down as you straddled one of his thighs.

"Stay," you breathed, and his hands fell obediently to his sides.

You let your gaze travel down his body; his parted lips, his heaving chest, the unmistakable bulge straining against his pants. He lifted his hips slightly, a wordless plea, and you rewarded him by sliding them down. Your eyebrows shot up as you realized he wasn't wearing anything underneath.

His cock stood rigid and flushed, a bead of precum already glistening at the tip. He sucked in a sharp breath, his entire body tensing under your gaze. You didn't speak right away. Instead, you let your eyes trace the length of him, the way his cock twitched in the open air, the way his stomach quivered with each shallow breath. The silence stretched, thick and electric, until he let out a soft, pleading whimper.

Your voice came out low and affectionate as your hand wrapped around the base. "Look at you. So hard and ready after taking care of me like that. You must like pleasuring me or something."

He shivered under your touch, hips jerking slightly upward. Leaning down, you pressed a soft kiss to the head before dragging your tongue slowly along the underside. His thighs flexed, a shaky sound escaping him.

"Please," he whined, the word cracking with need.

You chuckled softly, circling the crown with light, teasing licks. "Not yet. I want to hear those pretty sounds a little longer." Your fist stroked him in unhurried pulls, your mouth hovering close so your warm breath teased his sensitive skin. "You're so sensitive. I love when you twitch and moan like this."

Chan groaned, head tipping back as his fingers dug into the cushions. You took him into your mouth, sucking and making out with his tip gently at first, then pulling off with a wet sound to lap at the slit. "That's it. Just let me handle everything. You're perfect like this, all desperate."

His whines grew louder, hips thrusting shallowly into your grip. "Please....more. I need you."

You wrapped your mouth around him, working down his shaft slowly, deliberately, drawing out every broken sound he made. His hips rocked in small, desperate rolls, chasing your warmth without quite forcing the pace, still letting you lead. His hands had moved from the cushions to your hair, fingers threading gently, not pushing, just holding on like you were his anchor.

You pulled off with a wet pop, your hand still stroking him as you pressed a kiss to his inner thigh. He whimpered at the loss, a shudder running through him.

You breathed against his skin, lips trailing upward. "You must be close baby." He whimpered in response.

"You've been neglected, haven't you, love?" He nodded desperately then gasped once your tongue circled his head again, lapping at the bead of precum that had gathered.

His grip in your hair tightened. "Please—I—please, I need to—"

"Yeah, baby?" Your voice was soft but certain. You kissed the tip once, twice, then looked up at him through your lashes. His chest was heaving, his eyes glazed and wet. "You've been so good to me, Chan. You gonna cum?"

A desperate nod. "Yes! Yes! Yes! Fuck!”

"Go ahead, let go baby." You took him deep, until you were choking, all the way until your nose brushed his belly, then swallowed around him.

The sound he made was raw, almost pained, a broken cry that turned into a long, shuddering moan as his release hit your throat. You stayed still, letting him pulse against your tongue, your hand cupping his balls gently as you milked every last drop. When he finally stilled, trembling, you pulled off slowly, licking your lips clean.

You crawled up his body, lifting his shirt off as you press soft kisses along his stomach, his chest, his neck. His eyes were dazed, lips parted, and cheeks flushed. You brushed your thumb against his cheekbones and kissed him slowly.

"You're perfect," you whispered against his mouth. He let out a shaky breath and pulled you into a proper kiss, arms wrapping around you as he shifted and melted into the couch. "Fuck," he sighs out, in a daze, as you pull away.

You kiss his nose, "good?" His hold on you tightens as his eyes meet yours, "Perfect," he pecks your lips. "You are so perfect."

Your heart hammered against your ribs, so loudly you were convinced he could feel every beat through the fabric of your shirt. Judging by the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth, maybe he could.

"You're staring," you whispered, trying to hide your face against his shoulder.

"I know."

"It's making me nervous."

He laughed softly. "Don't be acting all shy now."

You groaned, burying your face even deeper into his chest. "I mean it," he said, still smiling. "You're cute."

"I'm choosing to ignore you."

"noted."

He let the silence settle after that, his hand moving slowly up and down your back in an absentminded rhythm. Every now and then his fingers paused at the curve of your waist before continuing, as if reassuring himself you were still there. Your breathing gradually matched his.

The room felt warm, the movie long forgotten somewhere behind the sound of your heart settling back into a normal rhythm.

After a while, Chan pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "We should probably get cleaned up."

You made a quiet, reluctant noise into his shirt. "I know," he chuckled. "I don't really want to move either." Neither of you did immediately.

Another minute passed before he finally sighed dramatically. "If we stay here any longer, I'm never getting off this couch."

You lifted your head just enough to look at him, "I wouldn't be opposed to that."

He smiled before brushing his thumb across your cheek, "come on." This time, when he stood, he kept one hand wrapped around yours, helping you to your feet. You swayed for a second, earning a quiet laugh from him.

"You okay?"

"Mhm."

"You sure?"

You wrapped your arms around him and pressed your body against his, "I'm positive."

His expression softened before he reluctantly put space between you two, "Be back," he said before leaving a kiss on your forehead. He disappeared down the hall for a moment while you flattened your hair as best you could with your hands. A second later you heard the bathroom sink running.

"I left you a towel," he called. "And I put a clean shirt on the counter if you'd rather wear that to sleep."

"Channie," you looked at him and smiled fondly. "You didn't have to."

"I figured you'd be more comfortable."

Something about that made your chest ache. By the time you stepped into his bedroom a few minutes later, he'd already changed into a pair of gray sweatpants and an old T-shirt, his hair still damp around the edges from splashing water on his face.

He looked up immediately. "You feel better?" You nodded.

"Good," and without another word, he disappeared into the kitchen. You heard a cabinet open, then the refrigerator.

When he returned, he balanced two glasses of water in one hand. "I know," he said before you could tease him. "I'm hovering."

"You are, dad."

He smiled, "Humor me."

You accepted the glass anyway, smiling as you took a sip, he looked completely satisfied.

"What?"

"I don't know." He rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. "Taking care of you just.…makes me feel better."

You leaned over and bumped your shoulder against his, "Is that so?" He nodded and laughed before taking your empty glass from you. "Bed?"

"Bed."

Chan turned the lights down until the room was bathed in a soft amber glow before pulling you towards the bed and pulling back the covers. You climbed in first, settling against the pillows while he walked around to the other side.

The mattress dipped beneath his weight and almost instinctively, you rolled toward him. He opened an arm without a word, and the way you fit against him as though you'd done it a hundred times before had your heart fluttering.

His chin rested lightly on top of your head, "you comfortable?" he asked.

"Mhm."

"You need anything?"

You shook your head. "You?"

"I've got everything I need." His answer came so simply that it made you smile. Outside, the neighborhood had gone still. Somewhere in the distance, a car pulled from someone's driveway disappearing into the night.

Chan's fingers traced slow circles against your arm beneath the blanket. "Thank you," he murmured after a long while.

You tilted your head. "For what?"

"For trusting me."

Your eyes searched his face. He wasn't looking at you anymore. Just staring at the ceiling, his voice barely above a whisper, "I don't ever want you to feel like you have to be anything except comfortable with me."

You reached up and intertwined your fingers with his. "And vice versa." His hand squeezed your hand gently as a comfortable silence settled over the room, neither of you feeling the need to fill it.

It wasn't long before your eyelids grew heavy, the steady rise and fall of his breathing lulling you toward sleep. Just before you drifted off, you felt him press one last kiss into your head. "Goodnight," he whispered.

You smiled against his chest, "goodnight, Chan."

𐙚

He had never been the kind of man who woke up slowly.

His body snapped into consciousness all at once, like a switch being thrown, and that morning was no different, except for the heat. It pooled low in his belly before he even opened his eyes, a steady throb that matched the rhythm of his pulse.

The bedroom was still dark, thin streaks of dawn threading through the curtains, and beside him, You breathed in the slow, even cadence of deep sleep.

You were laying on your stomach, one arm tucked beneath the pillow, your chan's shirt has ridden up, the sheet had slipped sometime in the night, leaving your back slightly bare to the dip of your waist where the blanket pooled. Your skin looked impossibly soft in the half-light.

Chan turned onto his side carefully, making the mattress shift only slightly. He didn't want to wake you. Not yet.

His mind flickered back to the night before; the taste of you, the sounds you'd made, the way your fingers had twisted in his hair. There was a reason he didn't suggest going all the way last night. Other than the fact that you did not mention it, Chan wanted the first time with you to be special.

Now, hours later, his body was making a compelling argument that 'not yet' had expired.

He watched you sleep for a long moment. The gentle rise and fall of your ribs. The flutter of you eyelashes; dreaming, perhaps. A small whimper came out with your exhale, and the sound of it, that tiny sound, sent a fresh pulse of want through him.

Chan leaned in and pressed his lips to your shoulder.

It was as light as a feather, barely a brush of skin against skin. He waited, your breathing didn't change.

He breathed you in, and his hand, moving of its own accord, ghosted up the length of your spine without touching, hovering just above the warm skin.

He kissed the nape of your neck, letting his mouth linger this time. The taste of you, slightly salty and something faintly vanilla from your body wash, spread across his tongue.

Then another, this time to the curve where your shoulder met your neck. He parted his lips slightly, just enough to feel the fine hairs there, and a sound rumbled in his chest that he swallowed before it could escape.

Your shoulder blade drew his mouth next, then the soft inward curve of your waist where the blanket had tangled. He was moving lower, propping himself on one elbow, mapping the landscape of your back with lips and breath. Every kiss was a question he wasn't asking aloud.

Do you know what you do to me?

Do you feel this too?

Can I have more?

"Chan?"

Your voice was thick with sleep, muffled by the pillow. You hadn't moved, hadn't even opened your eyes, but your hand had found his shoulder beneath the blanket and rested there, warm and grounding.

"Morning," he murmured against your lower back.

"What time is it?"

"Early."

You made a sleepy, questioning sound. "Why are you awake?"

He could have said something sweet, something about the sunrise or needing water. Instead, he let his teeth graze the rise of your hip, and said, voice rough, "Because I've been thinking about the way you taste."

Your breath caught. A small hitch that made the muscles of your back tense and release. Now he could see one eye, cracked open and watching him. "You're going to be the death of me," you whispered.

"Can I?" The words tumbled out before he could stop them, hoarse and urgent. "Please. Let me...just let me taste you again. That's all I want." He was already moving, already settling himself lower. "I'm just asking for this. For you. On my tongue."

"You're begging."

"I'm absolutely begging."

You propped herself on your elbows and looked down at him, and something in your expression shifted, from sleepy amusement to a quiet, considering heat. "You really mean it."

"Every word."

Your throat moved as you swallowed. "Then what are you waiting for?" He didn't need more than that.

Chan's hands found your hips, fingers pressing into your soft skin as he settled lower still, his shoulders nudging your thighs apart. The scent of you, warm and faintly musky and entirely you, filled his senses, and his mouth literally watered. He had to pause and press his forehead against the inside of your thigh just to steady himself.

"You okay down there?" Your voice was breathless, half-laugh.

"I'm trying not to embarrass myself," he admitted.

"That's adorable."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

He lifted his head and met your eyes. "Sit on my face."

The words landed between you like a stone dropped into still water. your lips parted, pupils went wide, swallowing the brown of your irises. "What?"

"You heard me." His voice was steadier now, confidence returning. "Sit on my face. I want to feel you above me."

The hesitation lasted only a heartbeat, and then you were moving, shifting up the bed as he rolled onto his back, arranging herself with a kind of focused precision that told him that you wanted this just as badly as he did.

Your thighs settled on either side of his head, and the world narrowed to the sight of you above him, backlit by the gray dawn. You were breathing hard, and so was he.

"Like this?"

"Exactly like that."

Chan's hands slid up the outside of your thighs, over the swell of your hips, pulling you down gently. His tongue curled against you, and the sound you made, a sharp, surprised gasp that turned into a moan halfway through, unraveled something in his chest.

He worked slowly at first, relearning the topography of you. The way you responded when he used the tip of his tongue versus the flat of it. The small, involuntary rock of your hips when he found a rhythm you liked. His hands gripped you harder, not to direct you, because he needed something to hold onto as he lost himself in your taste.

Your fingers found his hair, twisted and pulled at the strands. The sting on his scalp sent electricity straight down his spine. "There," you gasped. "Right there. Don't stop, Channie, please don't stop."

He continued fucking into you with his tongue, because who would he be if he didn't listen to you?

Time softened around the edges, became measured in the back and forth movement of your hips, the increasing urgency of your sounds, the way your thighs began to tremble against his ears. The taste of you was everywhere; on his tongue, his lips, his chin. He was drowning in it and had never been happier.

Your breathing changed, quickened almost. Your thighs clamped tighter, and Chan moaned against you, the vibration pulling another cry from your throat.

"I'm—" you couldn't finish the sentence.

He understood anyway. His tongue lapped against you harder and faster, as one of his hands left your hip to slide up your stomach, feeling the flutter of your breath beneath his palm. Your thighs squeezed him harder, fingers clenched in his hair as a raw, broken cry tore from your throat, your hips wildly grinding against his tongue as he flattens it.

He held you through every pulse, every shudder, drinking you down until you went limp above him, trembling and gasping. Only when your grip loosened and you collapsed to the side, pulling him closer to you, did the room fill with the sound of your ragged breathing and the soft, satisfied weight of your body against his.

Chan eased back as you slid off his face, your body still trembling from the orgasm. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes dark and hungry as he watched you catch your breath beside him. The gray dawn light painted soft lines across both of you.

You turned toward him, fingers tracing down his chest. "Channie... I want more. I want you inside me. We...we can use protection, but...." you paused, "fuck I need you."

His cock twitched hard at your words. He reached in the nightstand without hesitation, tearing open a condom packet with his teeth. Sliding his pants off and rolling it down his thick length, he positioned himself between your spread thighs.

"You sure?" he asked, voice rough.

"Please."

He pressed the head of his cock against your slick pussy and pushed in slowly. Inch by inch, stretching you open until he bottomed out. A shared groan filled the room.

"Fuuuuck," he gasped closing his eyes. He stayed there for a long moment, buried deep, letting you both adjust to the thick stretch. His hips rocked in tiny, shallow movements at first, barely pulling back before sinking in again. The slow drag of his cock against your walls drew soft sounds from both of you.

"You like that, baby?" He moans against your lips causing you to whine. Your legs wrapped around his waist, heels pressing into his lower back as you urged him deeper. He answered with a low groan, beginning to thrust in a steady rhythm, "you feel so good, babydoll....so so good."

He throws his head back grinding into you. Each stroke was deliberate, hips rolling forward until he was fully seated inside you before withdrawing almost completely, only to push back in again.

The wet sounds of your bodies grew louder with every thrust. His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging in as he kept the pace measured, savoring the way your pussy clenched around him every time he bottomed out. You could feel every inch of him sliding in and out, the friction building heat between you causing your moans to get louder and more erotic.

"Keep squeezing me like that, babydoll," he growled, voice strained. He leaned down to kiss you, tongue sliding against yours while his hips continued into slow, deep thrusts. "I'm close," you breathed into his mouth.

"Yeah?" He thrusted hard into you. "Gonna cum for me baby?" Your nails dug into his back as the pleasure built gradually. He kept fucking you with that same controlled pace, angling his hips to hit the spot that made your breath hitch. The tension coiled tighter with each stroke, bringing you closer, until he stopped thrusting and pulled out suddenly, causing you to clench around nothing.

Your eyes shot open, "Chan," you whined out.

"Shhh, babydoll, I got you," he murmurs while admiring your pussy, before leading his cock back into you. "I got you."

Chan lingered above you, his breath warm against your lips as he eased his hips forward again. Instead of rushing, he kept the motion unhurried, sinking into your soaked pussy again with deliberate care. Every inch of his cock stretched you open slowly, the thick head pressing deeper until he was fully seated inside you once more. A low, shared sigh escaped both of you at the full connection.

Your eyes were in the back of your head, "F-fuck daddy, right there," you moaned out gripping his shoulders. The term of endearment made his cock throb inside of you, and his hips stayed buried in you.

"Say it again, babydoll," he rasped out, ".....please." He tried letting your walls adjust around him while his hands roamed gently over your sides. One hand sneaked down between you, as his fingers brushed your clit in soft circles. His other hand found yours, squeezing you gently. His mouth found yours again, the kiss slow and deep, tongues sliding together as he began to rock his hips in smaller, measured movements.

"J-just like that, daddy," you mewled out as he dragged his cock out just to slam it back into you, drawing out a loud groan from the two of you.

Despite wanting to continuously slam into you, he felt himself getting close, so he kept each thrust measured and sweet. He pulled back only a little before pushing forward again, the drag of his cock against your inner walls steady and intimate. Wet sounds filled the quiet room with every gentle stroke, but he never quickened the pace. Instead he focused on the way your body responded, watching your face for every flicker of pleasure.

Your legs stayed wrapped around his waist, heels resting against his lower back as you encouraged him to stay close. He answered by leaning down to press kisses along your jaw, then down your neck, his lips warm and lingering on your skin. The slow rhythm continued, his cock sliding in and out with careful control, the head brushing that sensitive spot inside you on every inward push.

Time stretched as he kept fucking you like this. Minutes passed with the same unhurried pace, his hips rolling forward to fill you completely before easing back almost to the tip. Your pussy clenched around him with growing need, but he didn’t speed up. He simply adjusted the angle slightly, angling his cock to press against that perfect spot again and again, drawing soft gasps from your throat.

Your hands explored his back, fingers tracing the muscles that flexed with each controlled thrust. He groaned quietly against your shoulder when your nails dragged lightly over his skin, the sound vibrating through his chest. Sweat began to gather between your bodies, but he kept the connection tender, pressing his forehead to yours as he continued the steady rhythm. "You like this, babydoll?"

You nodded as the pleasure built gradually, "Fuck yes." you whisper. "Yes yes yes." Every slow stroke pushed you closer without overwhelming you, his hips started stuttering as you squeezed tightly. “come on babydoll, let go,” he grunted out as you tightened your legs around his hips.

Your second orgasm approached like a rising tide rather than a sudden crash. When it finally washed over you, your pussy pulsed and fluttered around his thick length, squeezing him in rhythmic waves. Your back arched, pressing your chest to his as the sensation rolled through you in long, drawn-out pulses.

Chan held still through your climax, buried deep while your walls milked him. He kissed your temple, “that’s it baby, there you go,” he murmured softly against your skin as your breathing slowly evened out.

Only when your tremors began to fade did he resume the gentle thrusting, still keeping the pace measured and loving. He lasted longer this way, savoring every moment inside you. He can't remember the last time he's had sex, let alone with someone who reciprocated his feelings.

His own release built again slowly, his cock twitching inside the condom as the pressure mounted. When he finally came, it was with a deep, drawn-out groan, his hips pressing forward one last time as he emptied himself. His body shuddered against yours in long waves, the condom catching every pulse of his release.

He didn’t pull away immediately. He stayed nestled inside you, softening gradually while his hands continued their gentle exploration. One hand stroked your back. The other traced slow circles over your hip and thigh. His lips brushed yours in a series of soft, lingering kisses, each one unhurried and full of affection.

When he finally eased out, he did so with care, removing the condom and tying it off before dropping it aside. Then he gathered you against his chest, pulling the blanket up to cover both of you. Your bodies remained pressed together, skin to skin, as the morning light grew brighter outside. His fingers kept moving in slow, soothing strokes along your spine, and the quiet intimacy of the moment stretched on without any need to rush.

Neither of you spoke for a long while, but when you did the conversation drifted in and out between comfortable silences, interrupted only by lazy kisses and quiet laughter whenever one of you caught the other staring again.

Eventually the sunlight spilling through the curtains grew brighter, stretching farther across the bed until it reached your legs.

There wasn't much to say. The room was quiet except for the occasional creak of the house settling and the distant chirping of birds outside the bedroom window. Every so often Chan would brush another kiss against your forehead or lazily trace circles along your back, neither of you particularly interested in being the first person to move.

Eventually, hunger won.

"If we don't get up," you mumbled against his chest, "we're going to waste the entire day."

Chan let out a sleepy hum, "I don't see the problem."

You smiled. "You said you needed groceries, especially for Jia."

One eye cracked open.

"…I did say that."

"And I need groceries too."

He sighed dramatically, tightening his arms around you for one last minute before finally letting go. "Five more minutes."

"You said that fifteen minutes ago."

"Then I'm making progress."

𐙚

By the time either of you finally convinced yourselves to leave the bedroom, the morning had quietly become afternoon. The house had settled into its usual weekend rhythm. Sunlight spilled across the hardwood floors in wide golden strips, warming the quiet rooms as if the day had been patiently waiting for the two of you to rejoin it.

Chan wandered into the kitchen first, still rubbing sleep from his eyes as he opened the refrigerator. He stared inside for a long moment. "...I've definitely been putting this off."

You laughed from somewhere down the hall. "That bad?" He stepped aside just enough for you to look.

Half a carton of milk.

A few eggs.

Butter.

One container of yogurt.

Three different condiments.

You looked back at him, "so....you've been surviving." You leaned against the counter, folding your arms. "My refrigerator isn't much better."

Chan glanced over at you, "No?"

"I keep buying ingredients because I think I'll cook."

"And then?"

"I get home from work and eat cereal."

He laughed quietly, "That explains a lot."

"It really does."

A comfortable silence settled between you as the coffee maker sputtered to life, filling the kitchen with its familiar sounds. Chan reached into the cabinet for two mugs without thinking, only hesitating for the briefest second before carrying on as if it had always been the obvious choice.

You noticed.

Neither of you acknowledged it.

By the time the coffee had finished brewing, the rich smell had drifted through the kitchen. Chan poured two cups and handed one to you, your fingers brushing lightly against his as you accepted it.

"Thanks."

He answered with a quiet hum before leaning back against the counter beside you, close enough that your shoulders nearly touched. For a while, neither of you said anything, simply standing there with warm mugs in your hands, watching the backyard through the kitchen window.

"What time are you getting Jia tomorrow ?" you asked eventually.

"Around three."

You nodded into your coffee. "So we've got today."

"And most of tomorrow."

It was a simple observation, but it settled between you with a weight neither of you expected. Not because you had anything special planned, but because knowing there was still time somehow felt important.

Chan took another sip before setting his mug on the counter, "I still need groceries."

"Me too."

He glanced over at you, one corner of his mouth lifting. "Want to just go together?"

You smiled over the rim of your mug, "I was hoping you'd ask."

𐙚

Nearly forty minutes later, the reusable shopping bags were tucked into the back seat, coffee cups abandoned in the cup holders, and the two of you were pulling into the grocery store parking lot.

Saturday afternoons always seemed to bring everyone out at once.

Families navigated overflowing carts through the parking lot while college students hurried inside with hastily scribbled shopping lists clutched in one hand. Somewhere nearby, someone was losing a battle with a shopping cart that refused to separate from the rest of the line.

Chan grabbed one with considerably less effort before falling into step beside you, "you have a list?" he asked.

"Somewhere," you dug through your bag until you found a crumpled receipt folded into quarters, every bit of blank space covered in handwriting. He looked at it for a second before laughing,"....that's your list?"

"It made sense when I wrote it."

"I believe you," his smile lingered as the two of you wandered inside.

The store hummed with the familiar rhythm of a busy weekend. Shopping carts rattled over tile, conversations drifted from neighboring aisles, and somewhere overhead an employee announced a sale that neither of you paid much attention to.

Without ever deciding to, you settled into an easy pace.

You paused to inspect produce while Chan wandered a few feet ahead, reaching automatically for the things he always bought. Every so often one of you would stop beside the other.

"Need cereal?"

"Mhm."

"You still out of coffee?"

"Unfortunately."

A carton of eggs appeared in the cart.

Then bread.

Then fruit.

Somewhere along the way, Jia's favorite yogurt ended up beside your coffee creamer. A loaf of bread rested against vegetables you'd picked out. His pasta sat next to spices you knew you were almost out of.

Neither of you questioned it.

It wasn't until you reached the meat department that you finally glanced down into the cart. You rested both hands on the handle, smiling to yourself, "our groceries are kind of... mixed together."

Chan followed your gaze. For a long second, he simply looked, "...Huh."

"My stuff's with yours."

"And mine's with yours."

"They're going to have to be sorted when we get home."

He nodded once, "...Probably."

Neither of you reached into the cart. Instead, Chan picked up a package of chicken, dropped it in beside everything else, and continued walking. You smiled to yourself before following him.

For now, it didn't seem important whose groceries belonged to which house.

By the time you reached the checkout, neither of you had made much progress figuring out whose groceries belonged to whom. You started unloading the cart onto the conveyor belt while Chan grabbed the divider.

"Everything before this is mine," you said, pointing toward the growing pile.

"Mhm."

Coffee. Vegetables. Pasta. Chicken.

When you reached for the yogurt, Chan quietly slid it onto his side of the divider. You frowned. "...That was mine."

"It was?"

"You watched me pick it."

"Huh."

Before you could say anything else, he reached over and moved your coffee beside it.

"...Chan."

"What?"

"Those are my groceries."

He didn't even try to look innocent, "I know."

You narrowed your eyes. "You're trying to pay for them."

"I might be."

A laugh escaped you as you immediately slid both items back across the divider, "you are absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"Because they're mine."

"They're groceries."

"They're my groceries."

Resting his forearms on the cart handle, he smiled in that infuriatingly calm way that told you he'd already decided this conversation was entertaining, "I invited you."

"...To the grocery store."

"I still invited you."

"You don't buy someone groceries because you invited them to buy groceries."

"I don't see why not."

"I do."

The cashier glanced between the two of you, her expression already giving away that she'd decided this was the highlight of her shift.

Chan reached for his wallet anyway.

You caught his wrist before he could, "no."

He looked down at your hand before meeting your eyes again. "What?"

"I cook for you and Jia because I want to."

"I know."

"So you're not paying me back through produce."

He laughed. "I'm not paying you back."

"Then what are you doing?"

"Saying thank you."

"You can say thank you for free."

"...It's less convincing."

The cashier let out a quiet laugh before clearing her throat, "your total," she said, nodding toward your side of the divider, "is fifty-eight forty-three."

Chan looked almost offended, "....See?"

You blinked. "What?"

"It wasn't even close to a hundred."

You stared at him for a second before shaking your head, "that is the part you took away from this?"

"I feel vindicated."

Laughing, you handed your card to the cashier, "you are unbelievable."

A grin spread across his face, "so I've been told."

--

By the time the groceries were loaded into the back of the car, the afternoon sun had shifted just enough to stretch long shadows across the parking lot.

Chan started the engine, one hand resting loosely on the steering wheel as he pulled out onto the main road. The radio hummed low beneath passing traffic, filling in the kind of silence that didn’t ask to be fixed.

You rested your elbow against the window, watching neighborhoods blur past before glancing over at him.

“What was Jia like when she was little?”

He smiled faintly, eyes still on the road. “She’s still little.”

“You know what I mean.”

A small exhale through his nose, like he’d already accepted the correction. “I know.” There was a pause as he thought back, “…She was fearless.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

“It should,” he said, finally glancing over with a grin.

That pulled a laugh out of you.

“She climbed everything,” he continued, warming into the memory. “The couch, the bookshelves, kitchen chairs. I’d turn around for two seconds and she’d be somewhere she absolutely shouldn’t be.”

“Chan.”

“I’m serious.” His mouth curved. “One time I walked into the kitchen and she was standing on top of the table.”

You turned fully toward him. “How did she even get up there?”

“I still don’t know,” he admitted, laughing now. “She just….figured it out.”

“And what was she doing?”

“Getting bananas.”

The car filled with your laughter, “she climbed onto the table…” you repeated, incredulous.

“…because she wanted fruit,” he finished, like that explained everything. “I found her holding the bunch over her head like she’d just won something.”

“Oh my God.”

“I didn’t know whether to be impressed or terrified.”

“Both,” you decided immediately.

“Definitely both,” the memory softened him a little, the grin easing into something fond. “I used to think she didn’t understand gravity.”

“She still doesn’t.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “No… she just negotiates with it better now.”

The laughter settled gradually, the car slipping back into an easy quiet. A few minutes passed before your voice came again, softer this time.

“What about food?”

The shift was subtle, but it landed differently. You noticed it in the way his hand adjusted on the steering wheel before he spoke.

“When her mom left…” he began, voice quieter, “Jia had just turned two.”

You didn’t interrupt.

“I couldn’t cook,” he admitted after a moment.

“Not even a little?”

A small, sheepish smile. “I could ruin cereal.”

That earned a quiet laugh from you.

“I’m serious.”

“I believe you,” you said, still smiling.

“I lived off frozen dinners before she was born. After….that didn’t really work anymore.”

His eyes stayed on the road, but his voice shifted into memory, “so I started calling my mom. My sister too. Pretty much every night.”

“Every night?”

“Pretty much,” he said, amused at himself. “I’d just put them on speaker and stand in the kitchen like I had any idea what I was doing.”

You smiled. “That’s kind of sweet.”

“It was chaos,” he corrected immediately, but he was laughing. “I’d be like, ‘Okay… now what?’”

“And they’d tell you?”

“Yeah. ‘Dice the onion.’”

“Simple.”

“Except I didn’t know what ‘small’ meant.”

That made you laugh, “like… tiny? Medium? Is there a rule?”

He shook his head, smiling. “I asked that exact question.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

The two of you laughed again, softer this time, the kind that fades into something more comfortable. “I burned chicken three nights in a row once,” he added.

“Three?”

“I kept thinking I’d learned something from the night before.”

“And had you?”

“No,” he admitted, amused. A pause, then a small shrug. “But eventually… I got better.”

“What was the first thing you actually made right?”

His expression shifted slightly at that, “chicken noodle soup.”

“Why soup?”

“Jia got sick.”

The air in the car changed, not heavy, just quieter, “she wouldn’t eat anything,” he said. “I ended up sitting on the kitchen floor with her because she wouldn’t stay in her high chair.”

You watched him as he spoke, like you could almost see it, “she only ate maybe….three bites,” he said softly.

“And that was enough?”

“It felt like I’d won the lottery.”

Silence settled again, this one thoughtful rather than empty. After a while, he added, quieter still, “I figured if I was going to do this by myself….she deserved more than microwaved dinners.”

You looked at him for a long moment, “Chan.”

“Hm?”

“You’re a great dad.”

He smiled, but it didn’t fully reach his eyes this time. “I’ve mostly just been trying to stay one step ahead of her.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

A glance at you. “No?”

“I think you’ve spent the last four years building a life where she never has to wonder if someone’s coming home.”

That landed and stayed there. Chan didn’t respond right away. Just kept driving, fingers tapping once against the wheel like he was holding the words somewhere quieter than speech.

Then, after a beat, a small, genuine smile returned. “…Thanks.”

And this time, he didn’t try to say anything else.

He didn’t need to.

--

By the time Chan turned into the neighborhood, the conversation had already softened into something familiar.

Jia’s unwavering belief that broccoli was just “tiny trees.”

The phase where she had refused to wear matching socks for an entire week on principle alone.

The brief, intense period where she had announced she was a dinosaur and responded only to roaring.

It came in fragments between laughter, the kind that filled space without needing to push anything out of it.

Eventually, the house came into view. Then the driveway.

And when Chan pulled in, the two of you both seemed to notice it at the same time. The grocery bags in the backseat. Still sitting there. Still very much not sorted.

A pause settled over the car.

“…Right,” you said slowly. “We’re going to have to separate all of this.”

Chan followed your gaze like he’d only just remembered they existed. “…Yeah.”

Neither of you moved for a second longer than necessary. It wasn’t reluctance exactly. More like the quiet realization that the moment had finally caught up to you.

“…Do you remember what’s yours?” he asked.

You leaned slightly to see better, squinting at the jumble of bags. “I know the coffee is mine.”

“…I think.”

That made him turn his head toward you. “You were confident for a second there.”

“I was confident,” you defended lightly. “Until you made me think about it.”

A small laugh left him as he opened his door. “That’s dangerous.”

“So is this grocery strategy.”

That got a fuller exhale of amusement from him as he stepped around the car. You followed him to the trunk.

The air outside felt a little cooler, quieter without the movement of driving, like the world had paused just long enough for this to become its own small task.

Chan lifted the first bag and held it out slightly. “Okay. This one?”

You peered inside, then frowned. “I genuinely don’t know.”

“Helpful.”

“I’m trying.”

He handed it back into the trunk and picked up another. “This?”

You leaned in closer this time, taking your time. “Wait… I think those are your onions.”

A pause.

Chan blinked once. “I don’t buy onions.”

“You literally picked them up.”

“I would remember that.”

“You made me smell them.”

That did it. You both broke out into laughter at the same time. Your hand went to your face, shoulders shaking. “Oh my God.”

Chan bent slightly at the waist, laughing harder now, one hand braced on the edge of the trunk like he needed support to survive the memory.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he said through a laugh. “This feels like we’re dividing assets.”

“That’s exactly what it feels like,” you said, still laughing. “Custody agreement for groceries.”

He pointed at you without hesitation. “This is your influence.”

“My influence?”

“You kept saying ‘I'll use it’ about everything.”

You straightened, defensive but amused. “Because I will use it, whether its with you guys or by myself.”

That hung there a second longer than the joke deserved. The laughter didn’t stop, but it shifted, softer now, less chaotic. Chan looked at you over the open trunk, expression easing into something quieter. He picked up another bag, holding it for a moment before handing it over like he’d already accepted the answer.

“…Yeah,” he said gently. “We will.”

And somehow, that landed more than the joke ever did.

--

The house was quiet as you both stepped inside, the bags heavy in your hands. The familiar sounds; the soft rustle of plastic, the faint clink of bottles filled the space. You set your bags down on the counter while Chan moved to start unloading his own, a slow, practiced rhythm.

He looked up at you with a small, familiar smile. “Leave your bags for now,” he said softly. “We can take them over to yours when we get a chance.”

You nodded, knowing he was right. It was easier this way, him handling the division, the organization, the flow of the household. No need to worry about sorting everything immediately.

He moved with a quiet purpose, opening the fridge and freezer, carefully placing items where they belonged, his movements slow and deliberate, as if tending to something fragile.

"Here, just put them away while they're still in the bags, so you don't leave anything behind," he says glancing towards you. You watched him for a moment, feeling the steadiness in his movements, the familiar quiet confidence.

You watched him for a moment, feeling the steadiness in his movements, the familiar quiet confidence. It wasn’t just about groceries. It was about the rhythm of the home, the way things could be organized and cared for without words, a shared understanding that everything would find its place naturally in time.

“Thanks,” you said softly, reaching for the bags again. “It’s….nice having this kind of normal, even if it’s just for a little while.”

He smiled, a little tired but genuinely peaceful. “Yeah,” he replied. “It’s good. We’ll make it feel like home, one step at a time.”

Later, as the evening settled in, you found yourselves in the kitchen again, this time side by side, reheating leftovers in the microwave. The hum of the appliance blended with the faint, distant chatter from the living room, stories about the day, sprinkled with the occasional giggle.

The quiet rhythm of the house continued, unhurried; passing plates, brushing shoulders, sharing small, knowing smiles as you set the table together.

You exchanged a glance, a small, knowing smile passing between you, feeling the unspoken understanding that everything was okay, just as it was.

You both sat side by side at the kitchen table, the soft glow of the overhead light casting a warm, calming hue over everything. The gentle clatter of plates and silverware punctuating the quiet. Outside, the faint sounds of the evening drifted through the window; distant traffic, a birdcall or two, filling the space with a peaceful, familiar rhythm.

You reached for a glass, taking a sip before glancing at Chan. “Do you remember how she used to react to changes?” you asked softly.

Chan chuckled, a quiet laugh that carried a hint of nostalgia. “Yeah,” he said with a small shake of his head. “She’d get all anxious if her routine was even a little different. Like, when she’d go to bed start asking for her nightlight or Leebit a hundred times.”

You smiled, remembering those nights. “She still does that?” you questioned.

"Not so much now," he nodded thoughtfully. “She’s adaptable. Just needs a little time to process.....speaking of I want to make sure she’s okay, you know. Before we talk about anything new between you and I.”

You looked at him, your expression softening. “Yeah. I think that’s smart.”

He paused, glancing down at his plate, then back at you with a quiet resolve. “I just… I want to be careful. Not rush her or make her feel overwhelmed. I want to tell her first, in a way she can understand, simple, gentle. No big surprises. Just us, taking it slow.”

You reached across the table, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “That’s the right way. She’ll trust us more if she knows she’s safe.”

The gentle hum of the house wrapped around you both, quiet but steady, an unspoken promise that patience and love would guide you through. No matter how long it took, everything would fall into place when the time was right.

You looked down at your plate, then back up at him, feeling the quiet strength in his words. “We’ll get through this,” you said softly. “One step at a time.”

He nodded, a small, genuine smile touching his lips. “Yeah. One step at a time.”

And in that peaceful moment, with the evening settling around you, you both knew that love wasn’t about rushing or pushing, it was about patience, trust, and quietly building something steady and real, day by day.

𐙚

The soft hum of the house continued around you, but at the table, everything seemed to slow down. The gentle flicker of the candlelight cast warm shadows across your faces, and for a moment, the world outside faded away.

You sat close, your shoulders just barely brushing, the quiet comfort of each other’s presence wrapping around you like a shared secret. You reached for your glass, but you hesitated as your arm brushed against his. He looked up at you, eyes dark and steady, a quiet understanding passing between you. The air grew thick with unspoken longing, a slow-burning tension that didn’t need words.

He shifted slightly, closing the space just a little more, his gaze dropping to your lips. You felt your heartbeat quicken, the anticipation building gently.

Without a word, he leaned in, a small, deliberate movement, his eyes never leaving yours. His hand reached out, resting softly on your thigh, warm and grounding.

Your breath hitched as he brushed a tender kiss along the corner of your mouth, then along your jaw, slow and deliberate, as if savoring each moment. His lips lingered there, sending a shiver through you, and you instinctively leaned into him, closing the gap.

The slow, steady press of his lips against your skin sent a ripple of heat through your body. You felt the faint brush of his fingers, the subtle pressure of his hand, grounding you in the moment. Your eyes fluttered shut for a brief second before opening again, meeting his gaze; soft, intense, full of promise.

The atmosphere shifted seamlessly, from calm and gentle to something more electric, yet still tender. You could feel the unspoken desire simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to unfold fully. But for now, it was enough; this quiet, lingering closeness, the shared breath, the unhurried connection at the heart of it all.

In that silence, at the dinner table, love and longing intertwined, simple and profound. And you knew, without saying a word, that this moment was just the beginning of something deeper, something waiting patiently just beneath the surface.

masterlist | next

a/n: ovulating (੭ ˊ^ˋ)੭ ♡ but originally, I wanted to do the whole weekend in this chapter, but I now have different plans. also for the love of GOD if you are a minor and interacting with this, don’t let me find out. You will get blocked.

@itsraininghyunebuckets, @armynstay, @thereaderinyourmind, @nougatjade, @river121798, @hunnybunny05, @babydollyriri, @ddearina, @ebnabi, @xlazyunicornx, @darlingjunnie, @bamsopoong02, @straystar-8, @hyunjinxxs, @amaranth-writing, @gwinamlvr @peachluffe @amarecerasus, @monbrigh, @bangct @changbinniescurlyhair, @babythisisourcinema , @marley1773, @cchapssaltteok , @moonychn , @susu6944 , @whoschanandwhydoyallwannabanghim , @canthavetoomuchchaos , @alienoddityfrompluto , @rockstarkkami , @nebugalaxy, @pedropacals0l0s, @charchartumb-lr, @akilovescake, @moon-1307, @certifiedbahnger, @hyunjinlalala, @blueberrieseungmin, @murisakimine, @fanaticstay, @my-leo-obsessions ,@barbie-girl84, @lonelydarknessblog, @channie-juseyo, @fanficwriter5, @gwinamlvr , @sproite , @angeldust296 @jasmine87906 @ready2readnwrite @darlingjunnie @user-36579 @lamentingweaver

[tasteracha]

a/n: i was gonna write something cute about chan helping y/n move because i am moving and i wish i had Big Strong Man to help me but this turned into a whole lot of pussy eating and not a lot of packing and moving. warnings: y/n has a pussy, weird caveman jokes, oral sex, MDNI. 1k.

“we ran out of tape!” you hear a call from the kitchen, muffled by the cardboard your head is currently surrounded by. you’re halfway inside a box, patting down newspaper so you can create a cushion for your carefully curated collection of mugs to sit on so they don’t break in transport.

“the fuck we did,” you grumble, annoyance and a flash of panic rising up as you dust your hands off and make your way over to chan. “we just bought some yesterday, don’t tell me we forgot it in the cart-“

you cut yourself off when you see chan holding a full roll of packing tape on one finger, a teasing smile on his face.

“kidding,” he laughs, setting the tape down to walk towards you. “got ya.”

“you just had to mess with me while i was working,” you roll your eyes but accept when he turns you around to lean you against the empty kitchen counter. “did you accomplish your goal of being one annoyance closer to me murdering you and taking the insurance money to hire movers?”

“no, but i did accomplish my goal of getting your attention,” he leans into your space, pressing you up further into the countertop. “you’re working too hard, baby. take a break.”

“i just need to get one more box done, then-“ the rest of your sentence is muffled by the palm of his hand and you make angry eye contact with him above his wrist. it’s the only thing you can do to retaliate, since he doesn’t get grossed out if you lick his hand and gets weirdly turned on if you bite it.

“box later,” he insists, pulling his hand away to tame a stray lock of your hair down against our head. “lunch now. hungry.”

“and he’s reduced to caveman speech,” you give in easily when you feel the weariness of your muscles sink in. it is easy to ignore when you are busy, but with the languid comfort that comes with his weight pressed against yours it draws your attention.

“would a caveman do this?” he leans in the rest of the way and presses his lips to yours in a slow, gentle kiss, letting his breath out into a sigh against your mouth. he squeezes his hands against your hips and lifts, and your center of gravity shifts as you’re placed on top of the counter.

“that’s exactly what a caveman would do, i think,” you say, breaking the kiss to thunk your head against the cabinet behind you. you can see his brain working to produce a witty comeback by the way his eyes narrow, but he must lose the fight with his own intelligence because he sinks to his knees a moment later without a word.

“i think cavemen like snacks,” he leans his head against your thigh and plays with the waistband of your shorts with his hands, looking up at you through his dark eyelashes. “does my food consent to a little pre-lunch sample?”

“as long as we can let this metaphor go, you can do whatever you want,” you feign nonchalance but your heartbeat is picking up, crescendoing into a racing pace when he manages to wiggle your shorts and underwear off of you.

you would go into the semantics of your bare ass on the kitchen counter being unhygienic, but you’re moving out tomorrow and soon that’ll be someone else’s problem. hopefully the new tenant bleaches everything.

he noses at your folds, unhurried and curious like he’s discovering something for the first time. when his tongue darts out to taste you, you’re almost embarrassed by the whine that leaves your throat without permission. really, you shouldn’t be so effected by such a simple touch, but you both have been too busy with packing the last few weeks to do anything other than unsatisfying quickies in the shower and it’s left you restless.

your breath hitches when he grabs your thighs and pushes your legs further apart. his next lick is harder, more of his tongue reaching out to draw a broad stroke between your hole and your clit. your hips jerk when his teeth graze against your skin and a small gush of slick escapes as you clench around nothing.

“the snack talks back,” he smirks, using two of his fingers to spread the wetness around. he teases at your entrance, and chokes on a gasp when your hands fly to his hair to press his face against your core.

“oh my god, shut up,” you loosen your grip when he gets the message and starts sucking at your clit, meaningfully this time instead of whatever he was doing before while thinking of some weird prehistoric era joke. he dips his fingers into you, crooking his fingers and making shallow thrusts that light up your nerve endings. fuck, this will be over too soon with the way you’re reacting.

you let go of his hair to cover your mouth as you start panting along with the pulsing in your pussy, and he whines into you pitifully. you’re not sure if it’s because he wants you to pull on his hair or because he wants to hear you, but he relaxes when your hand fists back into his curls.

“fuuuuuck, baby,” your hips are moving in minute jerks and you can feel the familiar burning heat spread through your core as your orgasm builds. you twitch one last time as it finally snaps, and your walls pulse desperately around his fingers as he eats you through it. your legs close around his ears as you come, your vision blacking out for a moment in response to his enthusiastic licking and sucking.

you relax your legs and push him away once the pleasure sparks into overstimulation, electricity crackling against a fine line between good and too much. he stays for a few seconds longer, stubborn in his desire to clean you up and hear you whimper, before falling back into his heels.

his face is glistening with your slick, his lips are red and swollen and he looks so satisfied with himself that you’re abruptly annoyed again.

“don’t say it,” you warn, the fear you wanted to instill dulled by the lethargy in your voice. “whatever stupid joke you’re going to say, keep it in your head.”

“i wasn’t going to say anything,” he protests, the mirth in his eyes revealing that he was, in fact, going to say something. “wait, but i’m actually hungry. let’s order takeout?”

[charmercharm3r]

imagine roommate! 3racha coming back from the gym to u in one of their rooms trying on lingerie bc “i don’t have a full length mirror in mine :(((“ literally been on my mind all day

-📿

finally finished this one🥳🥳

-

Sharing is Caring

BC, SCB, HJS

wc: 5.6k

warnings: smut, sexual explicit content, foursome, gets kinda nasty with a side of fluff, jisung x reader leaning lol

-

It was the first and last time you’d ever go shopping with Jisung. He was the only one of your three roommates that was currently available to accompany you. As fashionable as the boy is, he couldn’t give a single valuable opinion for his life. Everything you showed him, he’d give you either a thumbs up or tell you that “it’s your body. If you like it, you like it.”

You’d been at the mall with him for almost two hours when you’d given up asking him. It was obvious when Jisung started to run out of social battery, he’d tell you he’d wait on a bench outside whatever store while you looked around. By the time you’d come to the last store you wanted to check out, Jisung was practically drained.

“Wait outside. I’ll be quick,” you told him, already heading towards the lingerie store without looking back at him. What you didn’t see was his head perking up at the sight of you entering the much flashier and… adult… store. But he did as you asked, taking a seat outside and swinging his legs until you returned.

While inside, you browsed around and picked out a few pieces that stood out. One in particular that really caught your eye was a light blue babydoll set, feminine and frilly and so out of your comfort zone. There was no one you had to wear it for, but it was just so cute. It was also very different compared to the usual black and nude lingerie you typically stuck to. All the courage you had to even walk in the store and pick up the babydoll set evaporated as soon as one of the employees came up and offered to show you where the dressing rooms were, all with a judgemental look on her face. “Is that your boyfriend outside?” She asked, head pointed straight at Jisung, who watched you fiddling with the fabric between your fingers.

In an attempt to ward off her disapproving energy, you replied, “yeah, he is. I don’t need the fitting rooms, I think he’ll like this.” You walked towards the register without another word from her.

You probably should’ve taken up her offer on trying the set on before you got home, but for some reason, the way she looked at Jisung and how she stared at you sparked a sort of jealousy. Upon purchasing it, you instantly strode back over to your friend and took his arm, pulling him from the store and walking away.

He didn’t question your interaction with the store employee or why you’d dragged him away so quickly, but his mind didn’t stop racing at the idea of you wearing lingerie. Little to your knowledge, he had been crushing on you for the longest time. But you were also very, very off limits. It was a rule that he and your other two roommates agreed on when you moved in. You were their friend first, roommate second, and object of their sexual desires at the very end of the list.

However, he just had to tell Chan and Changbin of what he witnessed. So when the two of you arrived home and they invited you both to work out, Jisung jumped at the opportunity while you politely declined and used the excuse that you were tired. In all honesty, you just wanted a reason to stay home and try on your newest addition to your underwear drawer. As soon as they’d left, you locked yourself in your room and stripped, taking your time to put on the outfit. You’d taken off the tag without knowing if it would even fit or not, sighing at your own recklessness. But as you slowly slid on the light colored panties and draped the incredibly sheer top over your head, you came to the realization that you didn’t even have a mirror in your room– not a full length one, anyways. Your little vanity that you usually used wasn’t big enough to get the full view of your new set.

You were on a roll today, acting without thinking as you moved to unlock your door and peak your head outside into the hallway. Checking up and down the hall as well as listening for any movements, you quietly padded around the house looking for any sort of reflection that could show you how you truly looked. The bathroom mirror was a bust, too tall so that you only saw from your diaphragm and up. It was still too bright outside to see anything in the reflection of the sliding door that led to the balcony. Your only other option was perhaps one of the boy’s rooms.

Cursing under your breath at your own ignorance, you mentally noted to grab a full length mirror the next time you went out.

The house still seemed to be empty, but out of anxiety you treadded silently back towards the hallway where the four bedrooms were. You were lucky enough for your room to be next to Jisung’s, who was the quietest of the three boys when alone in their respective spaces. But he was also one of the more private ones, meaning his door was locked. You still checked, of course, but with no luck. Across from him was Chan, also very private and also very much locked. Changbin’s door directly across from yours was your last hope.

And voila! You were met with the overwhelming smell of spice and linen clearly left behind from his cologne and laundry detergent. His walls were painted a dark navy blue, complimenting the pale gray sheets that were messily spread across his bed. There wasn’t much else in his room besides the dresser, a few dumbbells, a desk that acted also as his bedside table, and a closet. There was no mirror that you could see, but upon further inspection, you opened the closet door and found just that.

With your back to the entrance of his room, you smoothed out the top of the lingerie set, tilting your head and twisting to see all the different angles. You had to admit, you looked good. Despite it being entirely different from what you were used to, it was nice to know that you could pull off other colors and other styles. So for a while, you just admired your body in his bedroom mirror.

Jisung had rushed Chan and Changbin out of the house, whispering in their ears that he had something important to share with them. The three of them were already in the gym of their apartment building and starting their routine when Jisung had realized he’d forgotten his pre workout drink. “I’ll be right back,” he said and rushed back upstairs before he could even tell them about you and the lingerie store. He’d jogged to his locked bedroom and found his drink sitting on the desk, taking a couple swigs of it before exiting to find Changbin’s door open. And you in all your glory.

You didn’t even hear him come in let alone notice him, jaw almost to the floor as your hands ran over your curves. Still looking at yourself in the mirror, you turned your hips to see how your butt looked in the baby blue. Immaculate, of course.

“Wow,” Jisung said, a lot louder than he’d intended to.

You jumped, seeing his reflections standing in the doorway with a dumbfounded look. It took you a second to remember your current state, hands flying to cover your chest and private parts. “Wha– I thought you were supposed to be at the gym?” Blood rushed to your cheeks as your eyes darted around aimlessly. When he didn’t respond, you turned to face him.

Jisung looked down at the drink in his hand, “I forgot s– something.” You followed his gaze downward, seeing the bottle. But you kept going, only now noticing his figure in the shadow of the hallway light. The sleeves of his shirt were cut off, drawing your attention to his sculpted arms. But how tiny his shorts were made your mouth water. You’d almost forgotten to breathe once you noticed a tent starting to rise.

You’d briefly thought back to the interaction with the store employee, thinking harder back to how Jisung was watching you like a hawk.

Grazing over his body again, your eyes met his. With the most innocent look you could conjure, “I don’t have a mirror in my room. What do you think, Sungie?” At a snail’s pace, you removed your hands from your chest and core, placing them behind your back and tilting your head.

He’d short circuited, unable to think about anything besides the way your tits peaked through the material of the lingerie. He didn’t even care that he was completely hard and almost to the point of throbbing. Not a single ounce of shame lingered in him as he took a step into Changbin’s room. “Really… really… something,” was all he could compute.

It felt so wrong, like you breaking a whole variety of rules that could get you into some deep shit with your other housemates. But the way his eyes were completely blown out and how good he looked, you couldn’t get yourself to care. So you took a step closer to him, looking up and smiling devilishly.

“Yeah?” You noticed the way his breath hitched in his throat the nearer you got. It gave you a surge of confidence, “wanna take a closer look?”

Jisung nodded embarrassingly fast, followed by dropping the bottle and pulling you in for a kiss even faster. Your head spun at how quickly things escalated. One second you were standing in the middle of Changbin’s room, the next you were spread out on his bed with Jisung hovering over you. His kisses were ravaging, sloppy but still heated as he made his way down your neck, only stopping to breathe. Your hands traveled through his thick hair, carding and pulling it in between moans as he continued further down.

Over the baby blue material, he kissed the tops of your breasts and licked across your nipple, making it perk more and leaving dark wet marks. The more your hands caressed him, the more he soaked your new clothes. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you in this,” he mumbled into you, leaving peppered kisses down your stomach. As he reached the hemline of your frilly underwear you arched into his touch, mind wandering to how smug you felt leaving the store earlier hand in hand with him. “Just had to tell the guys about how hot you looked.”

You didn’t expect it from yourself, aroused by the idea of both Jisung and your other two roommates fawning over you in lingerie. It made you practically shove his face towards your cunt, wet spot growing larger the longer he stared up into your eyes. “Please,” you whimpered, unsure of what you were truly asking for.

He didn’t wait any longer before just pushing the material to the side and letting his tongue run up through your folds. The warmth of the wet muscle made you groan, eyes shutting as your head fell back into the sheets. The fact that you weren’t in either of your own beds only added to the forbiddenness of the situation, how risky and taboo it was to be doing this in your roommate’s domain.

Jisung was good with his tongue, flicking your sensitive bundle of nerves with the tip and alternating to suctioning you in. You let out a particularly loud moan when he sucked harder and let his fingers circle your entrance.

You were so immersed in the sensation that you didn’t see the body standing in the doorway. “And when I thought today couldn’t get any weirder,” Chan stood, dumbfounded at the sight before him.

Seeing him in complete awe of you and Jisung set shocks through you, unable to stop yourself from shoving his head harder into you and mewling out. You kept your eyes locked on Chan’s face as Jisung continued to eat you out like a man starved. The absolute bliss your body writhed in sent blood rushing straight to the watcher’s cock, arms flexing in restraint. But then you pried one hand from Jisung’s hair, bringing it up to stick two fingers into your mouth.

As you swirled your tongue around your fingers and the man between your knees continued to ravish you, Chan was already stripping his shirt off and walking to the side of the bed closest to your head. Despite Jisung wanting you all for himself, he enjoyed the show you’d put on as you popped your fingers from your mouth and pulled Chan in by the back of his hair for a messy kiss. It fueled his need to prove himself to you, so he circled your entrance for a second to collect your dripping essence, pushing two digits into your relaxing hole. The sudden intrusion made you cry into Chan’s mouth.

Hearing your sweet noises made the older pull away from you and tug his shorts down, tugging lazily at his fully erect cock. As Jisung continued to suck at your clit and stroke his fingers into you, Chan stood tall. He looked down at you with an expression that told you he wanted only one thing. But to get you to how he wanted, he grabbed the base of his cock and tapped it against your cheek.

“Open,” he commanded, intentionally missing your tongue that was now sticking out. It was slightly humiliating, Jisung having witnessed the whole thing as well. But you were so close to your release, unable to care about how dumb you must’ve looked.

Jisung could feel how tightly you were contracting around his fingers, your hips bucking up and using the handle on his hair to grind harder into his tongue. He enjoyed himself, much more than he’d ever admit, how you used him to chase your own pleasure, so sure he was leaking precum through his shorts. Laundry was definitely going to need to be done.

But just as you were at your tipping point, needing just a little more to get over, Chan gathered a pool of saliva in his mouth, letting it drip from his tongue. He’d meant to slather it onto his dick, but with how erratically the lower half of your body moved he missed, smearing it across your lips and cheek. It was such a filthy sight and an even filthier feeling, forcing your orgasm to rip through you and clench your thighs around Jisung’s head. Just as your eyes shut and mouth opened to cry out, the man standing over you easily shut you up by shoving his cock into your mouth, immediately muffling you. The vibrations from your moans traveled through Chan’s body, making him groan out as well.

Reaching down to find a grip on your hair, he gently thrusted into you, taking his time. Jisung, still clamped between your legs, almost refused to detach from your cunt. But you’d released him and pulled him up by the hair. “She tastes so fucking good. Wanna try, hyung?” he playfully asked, watching the older screw his eyes shut in pleasure as he climbed to his knees between your quivering legs.

“Yeah. C’mere,” Chan breathed out, looking at Jisung and pulling him in by the collar of his shirt for a kiss. He even surprised himself by the action, letting his tongue glide over the other boy’s as he took in the taste and scent of your high. You, mouth still full of Chan’s cock and legs wrapping around Jisung’ s waist, watched as the two boys above you temporarily forgot about your surging needs. You’d gotten their attention again by digging the tip of your own tongue into Chan’s slit, making him push the younger away and rip another moan from his chest. “Fuck– he’s right. You’re fucking delicious.”

You reached up to grab the base of his cock and pop him from your mouth for a split second to say, “bet you taste even better.”

You could hardly process what occurred in the next few moments. Chan pushed you harshly into the bed and took a step away, “want front or back?” He asked the younger.

For a moment, he pondered. “Front.” Just as Chan was lifting you back up– completely contradicting the mean way he’d treated you a few seconds before– another set of footsteps echoed through the house. Less than a minute later, your third roommate stood sweating and out of breath in the doorway. The three of you were unashamed, uncaring that you’d been using Changbin’s bed without him there or without his permission. He watched Chan lift and settle you with your back to his chest while Jisung selfishly blocked the view of your cunt by quickly undressing, slipping off your panties, and gliding his cock between your used folds.

“I’ve talked about a foursome for how fucking long and you all decide to do it while I’m not even here?” Changbin exclaimed, strutting into his bedroom towards the desk and opening a drawer. “If you’re gonna go doubles, at least use some lube. Idiots,” he popped the lid of the bottle open and handed it to Chan.

“Binnie,” you dreamily called out, extending your hand towards him. Excited, he stood before you, letting you grab his shirt and pull him down for a kiss as well. He was already hard, the second he walked in on the scene all the blood rushed to his cock.

It was experimental for you, sort of new because you weren’t used to taking something in both holes at the same time. Sure, you’d tried anal before, but that was with a toy and with a partner who’d known what they were doing. Chan was kissing the back of your neck and whispering encouraging words in your ear while he dumped a generous amount of the liquid over his cock, using his fingers to pick some up and spread it around your hole. With Jisung toying with your clit and Changbin now pushing his shorts down, you were more than aroused.

But you were growing impatient, mewling as Chan pushed one finger in to test the waters and Changbin lazily stroking his cock before you. All of them were well endowed, Jisung perfectly hooked and Chan on the longer side. Changbin, however, was girthier than most, unsure how well you’d be able to take him in your mouth.

Jisung flicked your clit rather hard, making you arch into Chan’s hand and whimper again. “More,” you managed to say. The youngest looked to Chan over your shoulder, giving him a nod to enter first.

He went slow, gently letting you sink onto his cock inch by inch and get used to the feeling. The way he’d felt was nothing like your toys, hard but also fleshy and soft, much warmer than any piece of plastic. Your head fell back against his shoulder, biting your lip to keep from groaning at the unfamiliarity. Chan was holding back his own moans, the stretch burning for a few moments until you could completely relax. In the meantime, all you could hear were their sweet praises and the rushing of your blood in your ears. When you looked at Jisung, you gave him the okay to slide into you.

When he did, his head immediately fell back and eyes shut, but your jaw went slack. You felt so full as the youngest bottomed out, reaching out blindly for Changbin’s hand to pull him closer.

“Fuck— can barely move, she’s so tight,” Jisung mumbled through his teeth, fighting against the instinct to pound into you.

“I’d be okay with dying right now,” Chan joked to ease the tension, kissing your shoulder.

Changbin pumped himself in front of your face, hand petting through your hair, “I would’ve appreciated being invited to the party.”

Your body clenched at the thought of having your mouth stuffed as well, making Chan moan and hips stutter into you. “Jesus, I’ll blow if you do that again,” he gripped your waist tighter. “Me too, Bin. Found Jisung eating her out for lunch.”

The man standing looked down at you with a sweet smile, tugging his aching dick harder and tangling his fingers in your hair. “Really now? What were you doing here, little one?” The grip on your head pulled back harshly, making you clench again.

“Trying on this slutty lingerie I was telling you guys about,” Jisung answered for you, hand trailing up your belly to push the garment over your breasts and tweak your nipple. He twisted the nub, your brain hazing over with every passing second.

Changbin’s handle on your hair forced you to look at him, mouth still hanging open. When you stuck your tongue out, all his inhibitions went out the window. “Pretty little thing wants all her holes filled, hm? Why don’t you let our friends play with you for a bit, then you can taste.” Whimpering quietly, you nodded and reached a hand back to card through Chan’s hair. It encouraged him to move, gently pulling out before lazily pushing back in, breath hitching as the tight ring of muscles contracted around him.

Jisung followed, setting his pace opposite of the man under you. Wet sounds echoed throughout the bedroom, the only other noise falling from your mouths as the feeling of two cocks in you made your eyes glaze over. It was such a strangely wonderful experience, you didn’t know how good it would feel to be filled from both ends. You also didn’t realize how dirty of a mouth Changbin had.

He stared down at you condescendingly, eyes flittering between your fucked out face and lewd cunt. “Who knew our pretty princess could take two cocks so well. Wish you could see yourself, you look so filthy. Bet they’re hitting all the right spots, hm? Could probably feel Channie hyung’s dick rubbing against Jisungie, isn’t that right?” All spat at you while he swiped some of the lube dripping from your ass, using it to make the glide of his hand along his own cock easier. But he was right. As the two took turns pulling out and pushing into you, you could feel the undersides of their dicks scraping against one another. It made your head spin even more.

Through the immense pleasure you felt, you were able to breathe out, “want you, too.”

“Give the princess what she wants,” Jisung managed to say. His hands ran up and down your thighs, eventually keeping you spread open by hooking his arms under the crooks of your knees.

“You want my cock? Want your mouth stuffed, too, little one?” Changbin cooed just before he shoved his thumb into your mouth. You hummed around his digit, trying your hardest to focus on him through the heat rising in your gut.

The weight of his thumb on your tongue was enough to make your walls pulse around the two men, both moaning out as you did.

Chan’s arms snaked tighter around your midsection. “Fuck, fuck, fuck— I’m gonna cum.” He used his last few thrusts to hammer up into you, pulling out and letting his cock smack against the inside of your leg as he released all over your stomach with a long sigh. Jisung stilled in your cunt, seeing you covered in cum being a deep rooted fantasy that he’d never thought he’d get to see.

The older continued to let out spurts of his seed, thick and hot against your skin as your hands soothingly rubbed over his. “So good. So, so good for me,” he whispered into your ear, just loud enough for only you to hear. His praises were like music, arousal electrifying your body.

“Already, hyung?” Changbin joked to the older.

“You feel her back here and see how long you last.”

You watched his cum drip off the sides of your body, unaware of how intently you were staring at it.

“I think our pretty little princess likes being messy,” Changbin teased. His voice broke your attention away from the sticky white fluid, making you look up at him with your bottom lip between your teeth.

Jisung’s balls tightened at the sight of you, eyes blown wide and looking up at his older, much more attractive friend like he’d hung the stars. Despite being the one balls deep inside you, he was jealous. So with your attention on Changbin, he started to pound into you, skin slapping skin. You instantly snapped your head at him, seeing his eyebrows furrowing together as his eyes stared into your own. Leaning over you to the side Chan wasn’t on, he whispered, “I don’t like sharing.” You cried out when you felt a pair of fingers rub against your clit.

Just as quickly as you’d found yourself in this position, you felt Jisung pulling out and yanking you off of Chan. He flipped you on your stomach, pulling you up so you were on all fours. The older chuckled, scooting out of the way so that Changbin could take his place in front of you. Before you could even think about sucking him off, Jisung entered you again, using the fatty flesh of your ass as leverage to slam you into him again and again.

Your mouth dropped, eyes shutting as tears stung behind your waterline. The man in front of you brushed your hair back, creating a makeshift ponytail with his hand as he guided your head down and onto his cock. You moaned louder into him, making Changbin shiver.

Almost unable to concentrate with the way Jisung continually abused your cunt, Chan helped you out by gathering his cum from your stomach with two fingers and bringing it to your mouth. Popping off Changbin’s cock for a second, you took his fingers in with a sigh, tasting the bitter-salty liquid. As soon as he pulled away, you were back on Changbin, tasting both his cock and Chan’s cum.

“How’s it taste?” Chan chuckled, smearing his saliva covered fingers over your cheeks. All you could do was moan, in return making Changbin do so as well.

You used your hand to pump whatever was left of Changbin’s cock that couldn't fit in your mouth, swirling your tongue and pressing harder into the ridge where the head met the length. “What the fu—“

Changbin couldn’t finish his sentence, too lost in the feeling of your warmth.

Jisung was unrelenting, fighting off his high every time you squeezed around him, enticing him to fill you with more cum. But he was buzzing, too much energy for his body for him to handle and making him thrust without taking a second to savor you and your velvety walls.

Your lips cupped around the tip of Changbin’s head, sucking him in as his stomach rapidly contracted. He used the grip on your hair to roughly push you back down, tip hitting the back of your throat and making you gag. Typically, you hated the guys that would push your head. But with how nasty the things he was saying to you earlier were, you couldn’t find it in you to care. You just wanted to make him cum.

So you let him abuse your throat, sure that it’ll be sore tomorrow. But you moaned as Jisung reached around to toy with your clit again, vibrating the entire length of Changbin’s dick. He used your hair to lift and slam your head onto him until eventually holding you completely still so he could buck up and fuck your throat. He was rough like this for a few more seconds before he dropped his hips and pushed your head down onto him, holding your nose to his pelvis as he shot his load down your throat. You hummed around him as he came, guttural groans falling from his lips.

Chan laughed, teasing Changbin about coming too quickly as well. You attempted to swallow with his cock still in your mouth, pulling a few overstimulated whimpers out of him until he tugged you off by your hair again.

With his cum dribbling from the corners of your mouth, Changbin pulled you in for a nasty kiss, bouncing against his lips as Jisung still searched for that satisfying high he craved.

Sure, he could’ve blown by now. But he’d been pining after you for so long and he felt like he was running on pure adrenaline. If he were to cum now, he’d be wasting so much potential. So he kept fucking into you, pulling your hips into him so hard that you were sure there would be bruises on your ass from where his hip bones hit.

Chan and Changbin sat back and enjoyed the show, loving how dumb and sloppy you were now that you were drenched in their seed. The third boy was loving it just as much, thriving off his name falling from your lips like it was all you could think of.

To be fair, it was. Jisung has been the focal point of your sexual desires all day, starting from that incident at the store. How hungrily he watched you, then caught you in another boy’s room wearing the sluttiest thing you owned. And those tiny fucking shorts— there was no way you could conjure up a single thought that wasn’t Jisung, Jisung, Jisung.

The two older roommates continued to call you the lewdest things, “cum princess,” “pocket rocket,” “fuck toy,” “cum dumpster.” Jisung almost forgot that they were even there, entranced by how he would disappear into your swollen pussy.

He was close now, as were you. Your walls pulsed and fluttered and almost sucked him in as the heat rising your stomach burned so painfully good. Jisung took your hair from Changbin, who was playing with it mockingly. He yanked you up, pressing your back to his chest. The change of angle made you whimper, tears steadily streaming down your face as his other hand made its way around your cum covered torso. “This is the last time I’m sharing you. Enjoy seeing them in the post nut glow you caused. You’re mine now,” he growled in your ear.

The possessiveness unexpectedly made you shudder, eyes rolling back without a single thought other than to cum.

“Look at that. Finally broke you,” Jisung laughed, shoving your upper body back into Changbin and focusing on his release.

You didn’t need him to worry about you coming, his words did you in as you slumped into your roommate. Vision going white, holding onto Changbin’s biceps so hard that you left crescent shaped marks into his skin, your orgasm took over your body. Heat suffocated your skin as your ankles locked into Jisung’s legs, the shivering of your pussy pushing him over the edge as well.

He delivered a few more deep, hard thrusts, making sure to milk himself and give you everything he had.

It took you a few minutes to catch your breath, head still dizzy but light as air. Chan and Changbin smiled down at you fondly, stroking your hair and giving you nonstop praises whereas Jisung stayed rock hard and lodged inside your cunt, unable to pull away from the warm and slick hole.

Eventually, he managed to get himself together, stealing you away from the two to bring you into an embrace. He kissed the top of your head while your roommates ran off to get things to clean you up.

“Are you okay?” Jisung whispered, wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of his hand. All you could do was nod and nuzzle tighter into his arms. “I meant it. I really, really don’t like sharing.”

Your eyes threatened to shut, “no more kissing Chan.”

He laughed, “okay. No more kissing Chan.”

Sleep was so close to taking over you, but still, you felt yourself being lifted and carried to a different place, gently being placed into what felt like clean sheets. For a minute, it was just you in the silence. But then you heard shuffling in the distance, voices speaking to one another until footsteps lightly trekked through the room again.

“Is it okay if I clean you up a bit?” Jisung’s voice asked quietly. Eyes still closed, you nodded, completely exhausted. You could hear him giggle, hands gently guided you onto your back and spreading your legs. He ran a warm, wet towel up your center, apologizing as you winced and continued to wipe down the rest of your body.

When you couldn’t feel him on you anymore, you opened your eyes groggily, searching for him. Jisung reappeared in the room not a moment later, silly smiling. You made grabby hands at him, wanting someone to hold on to. “Okay, okay. Cuddles,” he jumped into bed next to you, holding you as if you were made of glass.

You rolled onto your side, his chest against your back. But when you shifted your hips, you felt someone poking at the back of your thigh. Immediately, your eyes opened. “Jisung?”

“I had too much pre work out,” he said, slightly ashamed that he was still rock hard. But you flipped back over and deviously smiled, suddenly full of energy again.

“Oh god, don’t look at me like that,” he muttered. Before he could protest further, you leaned in to kiss him. The kiss started to become slightly more heated until he pulled away. “Can I come with you in the store next time?”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his request, nodding and connecting your lips again. It was going to be a long day.

-

A/N: wasn’t really sure how i wanted to go about this buuut i enjoyed writing it!! not gonna lie, those pre work out drinks are fucking crazy. I had some to keep me up while studying for final exams...got lots of studying done..o_o

send me more requests! this was so fun and im more than happy to do them!!!

-momo < 3