» friends to lovers, threesome, dom!chansung, sub!reader. [1.4k]
after a night out your bestfriends are tired of you parading around other guys, why do you need another man when you have two right here?
contains .ᐟ.ᐟ › oral (m rec), unprotected sex, car sex, doggy and missionary, cumming inside, belly bulge mentioned, cervix kissing, throat fucking, head pusher sung, exhibitionism, lowk kinda meandom chan, reader is a crybaby
scan here for group masterlist → 𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 ˎˊ˗
You, Chan and Jisung met in college, you were all in the same major and clicked instantly.
Bonding over deadlines and late nights in the campus' studio.
You like to believe the friendship is strong — platonic, a testament that boys and girls can truly just be friends.
Choosing to ignore the way they both exist around you, the soft touches that linger seconds too long. Times when hugs between you when their hands were dangerously low.
You were celebrating — Jisung finished a track hes been trying to nail for weeks, calling for celebratory drinks!
The night was going perfect — drinks, dancing, all sorts of things.
All of their friends were there, Felix, Seungmin —
Hyunjin.
Hyunjin who you may have drunkenly hooked up with once.
But its in the past! You've spoken about it and chose to forget about it.
Chan and Jisung seemingly haven't.
When you first told them about it they were pissed, rightfully so, — now whenever you're near Hyunjin they suddenly act like your personal bodyguards who know no boundaries.
A sudden hand snaking around your waist — chaste kisses pressed to your cheeks, Jisung's fingers looped through your belt loop pulling you to his side, Chan's hand going dangerously close to your ass.
You may not be the smartest but you are not oblivious.
Poor Hyunjin is though.
And one thing you absolutely love to do is tease your best friends.
You can feel their eyes staring daggers into you from across the bar, glancing back when you stand dangerously close to Hyunjin, whispering in his ear.
Only after you drag Hyunjin to the dance floor do they actually intervene.
Pulling you out of the bar, making up an excuse of you being drunk when you haven't had a lick of alcohol, tonight at least.
You don't even try to complain — you can feel the tension as soon as you step into the car, Chan's grip on the wheel tight, his knuckles turning white nearly.
Jisung's leg is bouncing, the usual cheeky grin on his face vanished, staring ahead at the long empty road ahead.
You don't know what to do or say, not expecting them to act like this — maybe get a little annoyed but this was another level.
The sight of them in front of you, pissed — arguably jealous, whether they deny it or not — fuck its turning you on.
You cant help but clench around nothing — squeezing your thighs together — trying to relieve any of the heat between your legs, failing miserably.
You assume its just gonna be an awkward drive home — that they will end up acting like this never happened like they always do, like how they always play off their jealousy and protectiveness and say its normal and friendly.
Then your phone buzzes.
Hyunjin.
The buzzing makes the whole car go scarily quiet, which is a mammoth task considering it was already quiet — but every outside sound, the engine buzzing, the birds outside — it all mutes.
The ringing fills the car for a minute before you answer instinctively.
"Hyune?"
The boys cant hear what hes saying — a faint recognition of his voice registering
A moment passes before Jisung reaches back and snatches your phone from you. Before you cant even protest Chan is pulling over to a deserted part of the road.
"You think you can just — fuck think that you can be a slut around Hyunjin and let you get away with it?" Chan's hips crash against yours — his cock pounding into your swollen cunt.
You try to moan but its just muffled — your mouth stuffed with Jisung's cock in front of you.
Jisung's back is pressed against the window — the whole car hot, windows fogged up, Your fingers digging into Jisung's thighs as Chan pounds into you from the back, his fingers digging into your hip, sure to leave a mean bruise tomorrow.
Every so often a car runs past — you can barely process it — feeling so incredibly full — Jisung's thick cock heavy in your mouth, the tip hitting the back of your throat every time Chan's hips meet yours.
"You — think H-hyunjin can fuck you like this, sweetheart?" Chan words come out shaky and out of breath, his pace never wavering — his hands all over you, keeping you in place for him and Jisung, completely malleable under them.
Jisung lets out a guttural moan, his hips thrusting up, pushing his cock further in your mouth, watching as tears fall from your eyes.
It's all too much — the sensation of Chan fucking into you — his cock hitting that gummy spot with insane precision , and Jisung whining and groaning under you — the taste of his cock filling all your senses.
Your whimpers muffled by Jisung's cock — the vibrations only droning him on — his fingers lacing through your hair, pushing your head down further onto his cock.
The action makes you clench hard around Chan — pulling a string of curses from him. His hand kneading the plush of your ass, soothing the previous red marks.
Your nail's dig into Jisung's thighs — the pain pulling a pathetic groan from him, bucking his hips deeper into your mouth, your tongue pressing on the sensitive vein of his cock only pulling more sweet sounds out of him. Looking up at him with your glossy eyes — your cheeks tear stained only makes him go even crazier.
Chan can feel you clenching around him, your legs basically useless at holding you up — relying on Chan to keep you up, His pace only growing rougher and meaner — your tight cunt sucking him in with every thrust.
You cant say that your about to cum but he can tell — your whines growing louder and broken.
"You wanna cum, sweetheart?" He says in a faux concerned tone, his actions the opposite.
You can barely process his words, moaning on Jisung's cock in response.
"Not till we say, angel." Your whole body giving out — the denial only making you crave it even more.
Jisung's close — you can feel him twitching in your throat — his hand pushing your head down onto his cock, fucking your mouth.
"Taking it — shit, so well, princess — gonna swallow it okay, gorgeous?" Jisung's words come out breathless, barely holding on. His orgasm comes crashing as you moan around his cock.
Jisung's thrusts into your mouth halt as his cum shoots down your throat — the warm liquid coating your throat.
Suddenly Chan's hand presses on the back of your neck, holding onto it — pulling you off Jisung's cock. Jisung takes no time to flip you over onto your back, your head resting on his thighs, his finger immediately going to your tits. His thumb grazing over your nipples briefly before twisting on the sensitive buds, pulling on them.
The sudden change of position only makes Chan go deeper in your gut, his tip grazing over your cervix with every deep thrust, His palm presses on your stomach over the visible bulge created from him in you.
Your orgasm is so close — you can barely even process anything but the intense pleasure and the denial of it — Chan's pounding into your pussy and the tight coil in your cut is the only thing you are even registering.
"Look, Channie — she looks so much better when stuffed full of us — mouths open begging for my cock again." Jisung's voice hangs in the air — you barely even hear his mocking words, letting out a pathetic whimper in response only making him flick on your nipples.
A deep broken groan escapes from Chan — the sound of skin slapping echos in the car, the whole vehicle shaking from how hard hes pounding into you.
"You wanna cum, sweetheart? Who do you belong too — fuck, who does this pussy belong too, say it and we'll let you cum, yeah?"
Desperate incoherent pleas escape your lips but that's not enough — Chan's not taking that as an answer, neither is Jisung.
"Cmon, angel you can do better than that —" Jisung's voice is laced with a condescending tone.
"please — you!! Both of y-you — all yours — mphh!" Your voice cracks — your throat sore and voice broken, Chan mumbles something under his breath you cant make out.
"Thats it — cum for us, that's it— good girl." Chan drags it out, your orgasm ripping through you at his words, clenching around his cock — whimpering and mumbling nonsense.
The feeling of you creaming all around his cock sends Chan over the edge — his thrusts growing sloppy and lacking any sense, his cum shooting into your pussy — fucking it deeper into you and through your orgasm.
His cock stays inside you, you can feel him thick and heavy inside you still when Jisung reaches over for the console grabbing your phone bringing it back to you.
jisung claims he just wants to ‘rub against you’ but you both knew that was a lie ! ( tw: dubcon )
jisung had just dicked you down so good not even an hour ago.
he’d left you messy and trembling on the bed, your body sprawled out across the rumpled sheets while your dripping cunt clenched weakly around nothing, a thick mix of his cum and your slick smeared all over your thighs and leaking slow from your still-puffy hole. you could barely think, let alone move— your muscles felt like jelly, thighs quivering sharply everytime you tried to shift positions, oversensitive and sore in the best way possible.
your clit still pulsed faintly, swollen from how hard he’d made you cum earlier, overstimulation turning to a dull ache in your core. jisung had been just as wrecked, flopping off to your side with a breathless laugh that made little butterflies stir in your tummy even now.
so you thought that was it. done for the night.
and yet, there he was again, hovering over you now with flushed cheeks and disheveled hair, his cock already rock-hard and drooling pre onto your thigh as he gazed down at you with those big, round, stupidly desperate eyes.
you stared at him blankly, your mind struggling to wrap itself around the audacity.
“baby, please…” jisung whined softly, his voice cracking on the words like he was holding back actual tears. “just wanna feel you again. jus’ rub it on your pussy, i swear. won’t put it in. promise.”
oh, you didn’t believe that for a second.
jisung was lying to himself even more than he was lying to you— how could he help it when his hips were already rocking these tiny, pleading little thrusts, smearing sticky precum over your skin? his face was so red, his bottom lip caught between his teeth while his eyes watched you like you were his salvation, his endgame, his every waking thought.
and god, you knew you shouldn’t. you were already so full of him, your battered pussy still stretched and sore from how rough he’d been earlier. you could feel him in your blood, your muscles screaming for a break, even as your clit throbbed faintly at the way his cockhead twitched and leaked against your thigh.
but how the hell were you supposed to say no when he begged like that?
“…only rubbing,” you whispered, voice weak but firm. “be good, yeah?”
jisung nodded so frantically it was almost funny, his hands shaking as they cupped your thighs, nudging them apart slowly like he thought you might change your mind.
"i'll be good," he murmured, leaning forward to kiss your jaw, then your cheek, then your mouth with a softness that almost made you melt.
your chest fluttered as his lips trailed kisses down the curve of your throat, every little press a silent plea.
“thank you, baby,” he whispered against your skin, his voice husky but so gentle it made your resolve crack even more.
his trembling hands coaxed your legs wider until your puffy folds stuck to his cock, the lewd wetness between your thighs cold from earlier but quickly heating up again when the fat head of his cock dragged up your slit in a slow, deliberate motion.
“fuck, still so wet from earlier… so warm,” jisung breathed, his voice dropping another octave as he reached the end of your slit, his head catching briefly on your clit and making you jump.
his hips twitched forward instinctively, and both of you gasped softly at the sensation— the thick heat of his length pressing against your folds, already sticky and messy from the cum dripping out of you.
“s-shit, baby,” he whined, dragging his cock down, and then up again in one slow glide that sent sparks darting down your spine. “hear that? so fucking wet. you’re still leaking all over me.”
he wasn’t lying; every drag of his cock along your folds sounded downright filthy, wet squelches echoing in the room with every glide against your entrance, every bump against your swollen clit. his earlier load mixed with pre and slick, coating everything in messy strings that stuck to him when he pulled back.
the sloppiness of it made your face burn— not with embarrassment (there was none left to feel, really, not after jisung had learned every inch of you earlier that night)— but with how turned on it made you despite your soreness. you whimpered softly everytime the fat head of his cock teased your entrance without fully pushing inside, and jisung groaned when your thighs trembled helplessly at the slow, steady drag.
“can’t believe you’re still this messy,” he murmured, his voice cracking with need. “fuck, your pussy’s so cute...so creamy and sticky from me…”
you weren’t even officially fucking, and you were already losing your damn mind. everything felt so sensitive. the slick friction, the warmth of his cock pulsing against your folds. every drag sent shivers through your core, leaving you wet and wanting despite the ache.
and yet, jisung somehow pulled himself together, kept it slow in the most agonizing way, his thick length gliding down your slit before catching at your entrance and making you gasp— a sound jisung clearly relished because his head tipped back, lips parting on a moan like he could barely handle it himself.
“fuck, your pussy’s sucking me in—“ he panted, his grip tightening on your thighs as they kept trembling beneath him, the warmth of his calloused hands practically scorching your skin. “you’re gripping so hard, and i’m not even- ah—”
his hips twitched harder, enough to push the tip just slightly against your entrance where it notched thick and heavy inside.
“jisung- wait—!” you gasped, your hands flying to his chest in something that wasn’t quite a push. you could already feel the faint stretch from his tip pressing against your tight, puffy hole, overwhelmed but still loving it, your walls fluttering regardless of the ache.
“s-sorry, ‘m sorry,” jisung choked out immediately, but he didn’t move, every muscle in his body visibly straining. he whined softly, somehow just as wrecked from all of this as you, his flushed face burying into your shoulder as he breathed so raggedly you felt it in every shallow exhale.
“just the tip,” he babbled, his hips notching forward slightly despite his words. “just wanna feel you here. just this, baby, i promise…”
you wanted to believe him, but jisung was already sinking in. one thick inch, slow and devastating, and the breath punched out of your lungs.
“you’re so soft, baby… so fucking tight around me,” he moaned against your shoulder, his hips jerking slightly even as he tried to stay still.
“j-jisung, wait—” you whimpered again, nails gripping weakly at his arms as tears pricked your eyes, still breathless from the stretch.
he pressed frantic kisses to your jaw in response, his voice trembling as he muttered a bunch of “sorry’s” and “i love you’s” that contradicted every stutter of his hips.
he wasn’t pulling back. he wasn’t stopping.
instead, he buried himself slowly but deeply into your soaked, sore heat, inch by inch, until you felt the thickness of him stretching you fully again, his shaft slick and pulsing against your walls.
he wasn’t supposed to go this far, but you couldn’t care anymore—couldn’t think past the full sensation of jisung fucking you open, his length coated in messy slick from how wet you still were.
“fuck- look at you,” jisung groaned when he finally bottomed out, cock twitching where it pressed deep inside, head practically kissing your cervix. “you’re perfect, baby. so good for me- taking me so well, fuck.”
you cried out faintly when his hips rolled forward again in a shallow thrust, the motion sending a fresh squelch of his earlier release spilling out around him, coating the sheets beneath you in sticky waves.
your thighs pressed tight as everything inside you broke apart all over again, trembling against him as the bed creaked with every movement. his cock dragged thick and heavy along your walls, every thrust deep and firm, his breath a mixture of broken grunts and moans as he muttered praise and curses into your ear.
"so tight… so good…” he was babbling now, his hips rolling forward frantically as your cries melted into sobs of overstimulation, both of you oblivious to anything but the brutal, sloppy sounds of him fucking into you.
“j-jisung- i can’t—!” your words broke into a wail when his thrusts stuttered harder, deeper, everything messy and overwhelming.
“you can, baby,” jisung rasped, the veins in his hands twitching as he grabbed your thighs to hold you steady. “you’re my good girl- fuck, i know you can take it. your pussy always takes me so well…”
he angled your hips higher, pushing even deeper when you clenched hard on his cock again, making his words dissolve into another broken groan as the wet slap of his thrusts filled the room.
you threw your head back with a loud cry when he hit that spot, the one that sent sparks spiraling inside you and made you gushing wet all over again.
his hips stuttered then, a low “fuckkk, ’m so close,” spilling from his lips as his cock throbbed painfully inside you before he pulled out at the very last second, thick ribbons of cum shooting across your stomach and already ruined folds, smearing sticky onto your skin and thighs.
he slumped forward after with a loud groan, his forehead pressing against yours as both of you gasped for breath, your body still trembling beneath him as he kissed your cheek softly, so sweet it felt almost unreal.
“…sex ban,” you croaked after a long moment, hoarse, but determined.
jisung blinked at you in confusion before his face dropped into pure devastation, those round puppy eyes going wide. “wait, what?”
“yep. sex ban. no more for a week,” you panted, watching the misery flicker across his slightly sweaty face.
“b-but- i’ll be good!” he stammered, already pouting, and you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out because god, he was so screwed, and it was all his own doing….
or: you and jisung have been dating for a while now and he can't stop talking about you to, well, anyone who would listen. and so of course he has to introduce you to his best friend! only catch is..his best friend is actually your older brother.
warnings: none! 2k-ish crackfic, sibling Quarells, some second hand embarrassment maybe, pathetic attempt at humor and Korean honorifics (cuz it's funnier that way and cuz im back in my kdrama phase)
a/n: requested by my bby sitri I hope you like it 😼
upon your first meeting with jisung, he spilled his entire coffee down your shirt while trying to talk to you, that wasn't particularly the best first impression, but from then on you knew he was a disaster. It wasn’t even a flirtatious disaster—just pure clumsiness, the kind that made him groan and dramatically collapse onto the cafeteria table. "I swear I’m usually smoother than this," he’d muttered into his sleeves, and you’d laugh so hard your sides ached.
Three months later, he still hadn’t gotten any smoother.
Jisung was the kind of boyfriend who sent you memes at 3 AM with captions like "this is us," and it'd be two monkeys holding hands.
He’d show up to your apartment with his shirt inside out, or forget halfway through a sentence what he was even talking about, his hands flailing as he backtracked with, "Wait, no, scratch that—what was the point again?"
You adored it. Adored him, even when he accidentally used your toothbrush and spent the next hour apologizing.
What he lacked in coordination, though, he made up for in sheer, unshakable enthusiasm. Jisung loved loudly. He’d drag you to hole-in-the-wall noodle shops and insist you try his favorite dish, then watch your face with focus because he needed your validation.
He’d memorize the way you took your coffee and show up with it before your morning lectures. And when he talked about you to his friends—which was often, apparently—it was with the kind of reverence usually reserved for rare celestial events.
a text notification buzzed against your thigh at 9:37 PM, the screen glowing with Jisung’s name
Emergency meeting!!!
my friend thinks I’m lying about you!!!!
You snorted, rolling onto your stomach as your fingers tapped back,
What, like I’m some government conspiracy?
Three dots pulsed. Then,
WORSE. He thinks I made you up in a sleep-deprived delirium.
So that’s how you found yourself wedged into a booth at a 24-hour diner at 10pm on a Tuesday, with Jisung vibrating beside you.
“He’s gonna love you,” he assured you for the fourteenth time, “I mean, obviously. Who wouldn’t? But like — specifically him. Because he’s my best friend. And you’re my—” His sentence disintegrated into a flustered hand wave that nearly knocked over the salt shaker.
The bell above the door jingled. Jisung’s head whipped around so fast you heard his neck crack. “HYUNG!” he bellowed, launching halfway out of the booth. You turned — and froze.
Chan stood in the doorway, leather jacket shrugging off one shoulder, Your brother blinked. You blinked. Jisung, oblivious, was already pulling him towards the table “—and she’s real, see? Told you I wasn’t hallucinating!”
Chan’s eyes locked onto yours, his expression flickering between disbelief, amusement, and the faintest hint of protective warning — the same look he’d given you when you’d tried to sneak out of the house at sixteen, wearing eyeliner for the first time.
You pressed your lips together to stifle a laugh as chan made his way over. Jisung, still mid-sentence, hadn’t noticed the silent exchange.
“—so anyway, she’s basically perfect, hyung, like, objectively? And I know you think I have terrible taste—”
Chan cleared his throat, sliding into the booth opposite you both, “Oh, I know you have terrible taste,” he said, deadpan, and you kicked him under the table. but he didn’t flinch, “But let’s hear it. What’s so special about her?”
Jisung, bless him, took the bait like a goldfish going after a shiny hook.
“Everything,” he breathed, hands gesturing wildly. “She laughs at my dumb jokes—like, actually laughs, not the polite ‘oh god he’s embarrassing himself again’ laugh. And she remembers the weirdest stuff about me, like—”
You tuned out momentarily, watching Chan’s face twitch as he fought to keep his expression neutral. His fingers drummed against the tabletop in the same rhythm he’d used to tap out Morse code messages to you when you were kids and he was supposed to be grounded. 'Play along', it seemed to say. You tilted your head and reached for your water glass to hide your grin.
"—And she's smart," Jisung continued, blissfully unaware of the silent conversation happening across the table. "Like, scary smart. Last week she corrected my calculus homework in pen."
Chan scoffed, "Doesn't sound that smart to me," he said, "Correcting calculus is baseline human decency, berry (the family dog) could do that."
You kicked him again, harder this time, but he just grinned, eyes crinkling with mischief. Jisung gasped like Chan had insulted him — well he insulted you which was worse.
"Hyung!" he squawked, half-standing in the booth. "Take that back right now."
jisung looked genuinely distressed, you seized the moment to slide the conversation sideways.
"So!" you said brightly, plucking a fry from Jisung's plate before he could launch into another defense of your intellect. "Chan-ssi, what do you do when you're not doubting my academic credentials?"
The honorific tasted absurd on your tongue — you'd never called your brother anything but "idiot" in your life — but Jisung didn't notice, too busy glaring at Chan.
Chan leaned back, stretching his arms along the booth's vinyl backrest with practiced nonchalance. "Oh, you know," he said, looking like he was enjoying this too much. "Producing tracks, herding idiots like this one away from open flames—" Jisung squawked indignantly "—the usual."
The diner’s lights hummed overhead, casting a garish glow over the half-eaten plate of fries between you. Chan’s smirk widened as he watched Jisung’s face contort in outrage, his fingers now gripping the edge of the table like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
“Anyway,” Chan drawled, leaning forward, “how long has this relationship been going on, exactly?”
You opened your mouth, but Jisung barreled in like a golden retriever spotting an open car window. this was his favorite thing to talk about after all.
“Three months and seventeen days!” he announced.
“Not that I’m counting or anything, but like, hypothetically, if someone were counting, which I’m not, but if they were, they’d know it was exactly 1,584 hours since our first kiss, which was at 9:23 PM on a Tuesday, so exactly a month and a week ago—”
Chan’s eyebrows climbed so high they nearly disappeared into his hairline. Jisung, completely oblivious to the nuclear-level tension crackling across the table, was now counting off on his fingers. “—and we’ve spent approximately 237 hours together, not including texts, which total roughly—”
“Okay,” Chan cut in, uncharacteristically calm, “Let’s back up.” His gaze flicked to you—really? written all over his face, before settling back on Jisung “You’re telling me you’ve kissed my—” He barely caught himself before saying the word sister “—this perfect, smart, definitely real person—”
“Yes!” Jisung beamed, practically vibrating out of his seat. “And it was even better than I described, hyung, like—” He reached across the table, seizing Chan’s wrist with enthusiasm.
“— and she humors me. Voluntarily. Like yesterday, I texted her that pigeons are government drones, and she agreed and sent me a PowerPoint—”
Chan’s gaze flicked between you and Jisung like he was watching a particularly chaotic ping-pong match. or maybe it was that he couldn't quite imagine his 'baby sis' being with anyone.
“Okay,” he said slowly, each syllable deliberate, “let’s try this again.” He pointed at you with his finger. “You—” Then at Jisung, “—and him. Dating. How did that happen?”
“Oh my god, it was fate,” he gushed, “Like, statistically, what are the odds I’d spill coffee on the one person who’d laugh instead of cursing me? And then she gave me her hoodie like some rom-com heroine—which, by the way, I still have, and it smells like her laundry detergent, which is weirdly comforting—”
Chan’s eye twitched.
“—and then she texted me first after, which never happens, because I’m usually the one sending essay-length apologies for existing—”
You coughed into your napkin, face heating as Jisung’s rambling veered into territory even you hadn’t heard before.
~
The diner’s clock ticked past 12:17 AM when you finally nudged your chair back with an exaggerated stretch. “Alright, disaster duo,” you said, nodding toward Chan’s crumpled menu and Jisung’s fifth refill of soda, “I’ve gotta tap out before my brother files a missing person’s report on me.” You reached for your jacket, but Jisung’s hand shot out, clamping around your wrist with urgency.
“Wait—no,” he blurted, eyes wide and pleading like a kicked puppy. “It’s early. Like, criminally early. The sun’s not even thinking about rising yet.”
His grip tightened slightly, “And—” He hesitated, then brightened with the sudden brilliance of a lightbulb flicking on. “Invite your brother! Yeah! Bring him here! We can—I don’t know—bond over terrible diner soda and judge people’s life choices through the window.”
Chan choked on his own spit, coughing into his fist. “Oh, I’m judging plenty already,” he muttered, shooting you a look that made you bite your lip to keep from laughing, watching Jisung’s face twist in confusion as he glanced between you both.
“Seriously,” Jisung pressed, oblivious to Chan’s internal crisis, “call him!” His fingers were still wrapped around your wrist, warm and slightly sticky from soda condensation. You hesitated, then smirked, pulling your phone from your pocket while making direct eye contact with Chan " y'know what?" you lips curled up in a smirk "i will"
The dial tone pulsed once, twice—then Chan’s ringtone blared from his jacket pocket, the opening bars of some obnoxiously upbeat pop song Jisung had probably forced on him. Chan didn’t even flinch. He just leaned back, dug out his phone, and held it up. The screen flashed Baby Sis.
Chan swiped to answer, pressing the phone to his ear without breaking eye contact with you. "Well?" he said, voice dripping with mock concern through the speaker. "Is everything alright? You never call me this late."
You could see the exact moment Jisung's brain stalled like a computer buffering—his mouth half-open, gaze darting between Chan's face and the phone in his hand. "Uh," he said intelligently, fingers tightening around your wrist.
You raised your own phone to your ear, watching Chan's smirk deepen as you pitched your voice into exaggerated sweetness.
"Oh, just peachy," you chirped into your phone, watching Chan's smirk widen as he leaned forward on his elbows, the diner's garish lighting catching the mischief in his eyes. "Except I'm sitting here with my adorable disaster of a boyfriend—yes, Jisung, I'm talking about you—and I just realized I never introduced you two properly." You paused dramatically, tilting your head. " brother, meet my boyfriend. Boyfriend, meet my very overprotective older brother."
Jisung made a noise like a deflating balloon, his grip on your wrist slackening. His mouth worked soundlessly for a beat before he whispered, "What."
Chan, being an absolute menace, waved at Jisung with his free hand, fingers wiggling in a mock-cute gesture. "Surprise," he said through the phone, then louder in person "Been hearing a lot about you, boyfriend"
Jisung’s face went through approximately ten emotions in three seconds—shock, confusion, dawning horror that chan might genuinely punch him after this, then back to shock before his palms went up to his face as he slid down the chair dramatically.
maybe it'd take him some time to get over this embarrassment. probably more time than it took to get over the embarrassment of your initial meeting.
synopsis/request: when jisung forgets your birthday and pushes you away during a moment of vulnerability, silent tension fills the days that follow. as he scrambles to make amends, he realizes the real damage wasn't forgetting the date, but making you feel like a burden.
The rain had been falling all day. A slow, steady rhythm tapping against the windows, so soft it could almost be soothing, if not for the storm quietly brewing inside you.
The week had been uneventful in most ways. Jisung had been more or less locked in his little creative bubble, something you'd always admired about him. He could get consumed by music, swallowed whole by a single lyric he couldn't quite get right, or a melody that refused to sit still. You loved that about him. Loved the way his eyes got glassy and far away when his brain started spinning faster than he could talk.
But lately, it wasn’t just that.
He’d been distant. Not unkind. Just… elsewhere. Every conversation felt like you were knocking on a door he no longer heard you through.
You chalked it up to work, because it was work. He’d been spending long hours writing, recording, tweaking things late into the night, and barely looking up from his laptop when you came in. You were used to it, in a way. This was Jisung. He went hard when inspiration struck. He burned hot, fast, and completely.
Still, it stung in a way you didn’t want to admit.
Especially with your birthday just a few days away.
You hadn’t said anything about it. You’d made a quiet decision not to bring it up. Part of you thought it would be sweet if he remembered on his own, if he had something planned, something thoughtful, even small. Jisung wasn’t extravagant. He didn’t do grand gestures. But he knew you. He always knew you.
So you waited.
And waited.
Each day passed without a mention. No little comments. No suspicious texts. No asking if you were free. Just his head down, pen scratching across paper, headphones on, a world away.
But today, Tuesday, you couldn’t take the silence anymore. You weren’t going to outright ask him if he remembered. That would be pathetic, you thought. That would make it worse if he didn’t. But you could be subtle. Casual. Just ask if he had Friday off. Plant the seed. Give him a chance.
It was late afternoon when you walked into his studio. You could hear the low hum of a beat looping in the background, his fingers moving fast over his keyboard, pausing every so often to scribble something into his notebook. His back was to you, hunched slightly, hoodie pulled up over his head.
He didn’t hear you come in.
You walked over quietly, wrapped your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek lightly against his shoulder blade. He stiffened slightly at the sudden contact, but didn’t pull away.
Yet.
"Hey, baby," you said softly, your voice almost lost in the music. "Do you have Friday off?"
You didn’t mention why. You didn’t want it to sound like a trap.
He didn’t turn around. Just shrugged, his fingers still moving.
"I don’t know. Maybe. I’ve got a lot going on right now."
You blinked. Pulled back a little. That was it? No follow-up? No “why do you ask?” Not even curiosity?
You bit your lip and tried again, stepping around him this time so you were facing him. He looked tired, eyes slightly puffy from staring at the screen too long. You leaned down, gently trying to kiss his cheek, but he shifted just as you did, and your lips landed awkwardly at the corner of his jaw.
You let it slide. Forced a smile.
"Really no plans this weekend? Not even a day off?"
He finally looked up. Annoyed. The kind of look you’d only seen when he was dealing with customer service or slow Wi-Fi.
"Can you not right now?" he snapped, rubbing his temple. "I’m in the middle of something."
You blinked. Stunned for a second.
"I was just asking—"
"Yeah, and I said I don’t know." He exhaled hard, clearly irritated. "Why are you pressing me about this? I’m busy."
That one landed like a slap. You took a step back, arms folding tightly over your chest. You felt like you were shrinking.
"Sorry for bothering you," you said coldly, the tightness in your throat giving you away. "God forbid I ask my boyfriend a simple question."
You turned before he could say anything else, before the anger on your face melted into something worse. You didn’t want him to see. You didn’t want him to know.
The door slammed behind you harder than you intended. The echo rang down the hallway like a warning bell.
You stood there, frozen, in the hallway. Alone.
And that's when it hit you.
He’d forgotten.
He really, truly had forgotten.
Your birthday was in three days.
And Jisung, the boy who once remembered the exact day you first cried in front of him, the boy who had surprised you with ramen at 1AM because you offhandedly said you missed home, had forgotten.
Your chest burned.
You didn’t cry right away. You refused to. Crying meant giving it weight. It meant making it real. And maybe, maybe this was still salvageable. Maybe he’d realize. Maybe this was just a bad moment, a bad hour.
But the more you thought about it, the more the silence over the past week screamed in your ears.
Not one hint. Not one look. Nothing.
-
The house was quieter than usual, but not in a peaceful way. It was the kind of silence that felt like tension stretched too thin. The kind of silence that made the air feel heavier.
You’d noticed it growing for a while now, the slow fade of warmth, like a candle burning down to its last inch of wick. Jisung had been lost in his work lately, immersed in melodies and metaphors, his mind trapped in the small studio tucked at the end of the hall.
He’d always done this. You knew his process. He dove headfirst into his music, sometimes forgetting meals, forgetting sleep. You’d loved him for that. For how deeply he loved creating. For how earnestly he got caught up in the things that mattered to him.
But this time… something was different.
This time, you felt like a stranger to him while he buried himself in lyrics.
And it hurt more than you wanted to admit.
Your birthday was in just a few days.
That tiny fact sat in the back of your mind like a needle under the skin. Small. Sharp. Unshakable.
You didn’t need much. You weren’t the type to demand gifts or parties or posts with long, poetic captions. What you wanted, what you hoped for was that he’d remember. That he’d do something meaningful, something that showed he still saw you.
You had convinced yourself that he did.
Even after the way he snapped earlier that day, the way he brushed you off when you asked if he had Friday free, you still gave him the benefit of the doubt.
You had to. Because if he had forgotten, if he truly wasn’t planning anything… then what did that say about the two of you? About how far you’d drifted without realizing it?
That evening, the house remained mostly silent.
You moved around the bedroom without saying much, folding laundry you didn’t have the energy to care about, rechecking a calendar you’d already memorized. You hadn’t seen him much since the argument. He stayed locked away in his studio, headphones on, music leaking faintly through the door like a barrier between you.
You had hoped stupidly, maybe that he’d come out and say something. Apologize, even a little. Ask what was wrong. Notice that you’d been quiet too. That you didn’t eat dinner. That you didn’t sit on the couch like usual waiting for him to finish work.
But none of that happened.
It was nearly midnight when he finally came into the room. You were already in bed, the blanket pulled up to your chest, your body curled to one side, eyes closed. You weren’t asleep, not even close.
He moved quietly, but you heard every step. The rustle of his hoodie dropping to the floor. The faint creak of the mattress as he slipped in beside you.
You waited.
Your heart thudded.
Then, slowly, you inched toward him.
You didn’t say anything. You didn’t push your luck with words this time. You just slid closer and gently wrapped your arm around his waist, your face nestling near his shoulder. A quiet attempt at truce. A silent please let’s forget the fight.
But before you could even settle into the comfort you craved, he flinched.
And then he sighed. Loudly.
“Seriously?”
The word hit you like a slap.
Your body stilled. “...What?”
“When I’m working, I really need you to not be all over me,” he said, voice flat, frustrated. “It throws me off. I was just about to write something important earlier and you came in, touching me, kissing me and I completely lost the line I had in my head.”
You pulled back slowly, staring at him in the dim lighting. His profile was hard. Tired. Detached.
You blinked once. Twice. Trying to process what he’d just said.
“I distracted you…?” Your voice came out smaller than you wanted.
He didn’t answer right away. Just let out another sigh and turned his back to you.
“I just… I’d appreciate it if you could give me space when I’m in work mode. That’s all.”
You didn’t speak.
You couldn’t.
You lay there, staring at the back of his head, the curve of his shoulder rising and falling slowly with each breath.
There was something hollow in your chest. A yawning emptiness where warmth used to live.
All day, you had been convincing yourself that this was just stress. That he was just overwhelmed. That he didn’t mean to be cold or distant. That it wasn’t personal.
But this, this wasn’t just stress.
This was dismissal.
And that, somehow, hurt more than him forgetting your birthday.
Because this wasn’t about one day.
This was about being made to feel like you were in the way. Like your affection was an inconvenience. Like loving him gently, quietly, earnestly was a problem.
You blinked away the heat in your eyes and rolled onto your other side, facing the wall.
You didn’t say goodnight. You didn’t touch him again. You didn’t cry.
Not yet.
Lying there in the dark, you played the moment over and over in your head.
You weren’t sure what stung more: That he hadn’t tried to fix the argument. That he’d called your love distracting. Or that he didn’t even realize he’d hurt you.
You thought about how he used to pull you into bed and kiss you like he couldn’t wait to tell you everything he’d written. You thought about the nights when he would bring his lyric notebook to the couch just to be next to you. You thought about the quiet way he used to hold your hand while working, like even in silence, he wanted to be tethered to you.
Now… you were a distraction. And worse, someone who made you feel too much for wanting to be close.
You clutched the edge of the blanket and closed your eyes.
You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want to give it that power.
But the tears came anyway silent and slow, soaking into your pillow like an open secret.
In that moment, you realized something heartbreaking:
It wasn’t that he forgot your birthday.
It was that, lately, he’d forgotten you.
-
You woke up the next morning feeling like you hadn't slept at all.
Your eyes were sore, your body heavy from the weight of unshed words and smothered cries. There was a dull ache behind your ribs that hadn’t gone away since last night, since he turned away from you after telling you that your love was distracting. Since you’d reached out for comfort and got a complaint instead.
You lay still in bed, watching the gray morning light bleed into the room. You could hear him moving around in the kitchen, opening cabinets, the quiet shuffle of his slippers on the hardwood floor. The clink of a mug. A spoon against a bowl.
Your heart didn’t race. It slowed. Because nothing felt worse than knowing he was acting like everything was fine.
And it was then that the decision made itself: You wouldn’t say a word. Not out of pettiness. Not out of spite. But because you had said enough. And he had heard nothing.
Let him feel the silence he gave you. Let him hear it this time.
You walked into the kitchen wrapped in a hoodie, your face blank, your mouth a hard line. He was standing by the stove, eating cereal straight out of the bowl, scrolling through something on his phone. He looked up briefly.
"Morning," he said, like nothing had happened.
You nodded once, tight, and opened the fridge. You could feel his eyes linger on you for a second too long like he was waiting for you to say more. But when you didn’t, he just turned back to his screen.
You didn’t speak. Didn’t ask about his schedule. Didn’t try to sit close.
You took your yogurt and left the kitchen, eating alone in the living room with the TV off and your thoughts screaming.
The silence grew louder as the hours passed.
He didn’t notice it at first. You were usually quiet in the mornings anyway. He probably assumed you'd snap out of it, give him a kiss on the cheek, ask how the lyrics were going, sit beside him with your head on his shoulder.
But you didn’t.
And by mid-afternoon, it had become clear that this wasn’t just a quiet morning.
You walked past him in the hallway when he emerged for coffee. He smiled faintly and said, “I think I figured out that chorus.” You gave a nod that didn’t reach your eyes. No follow-up. You didn’t even glance at him.
He paused. Just for a second. And then kept walking.
By evening, you heard the subtle tone in his voice shift. A flicker of unease.
He called from the kitchen, “Hey… you want me to make pasta or something?”
You didn’t respond.
“...Y/N?” he tried again.
You were in the bedroom, folding the same shirt over and over just to keep your hands busy, your mind distracted.
He peeked into the room, holding the bag of pasta in his hand. You didn’t look at him.
“I’m making something to eat,” he said slowly, carefully. “Do you want any?”
Still, you said nothing. You didn’t even shrug.
He exhaled sharply, clearly irritated now. “Okay. I’ll just leave you alone then.”
And he did.
The rest of the day passed the same way. Cold. Wordless. Wide.
You were in the same rooms but worlds apart. He started watching you more carefully. Furtively. He asked small things throughout the day "Did you do the laundry already?" or "Hey, have you seen my hoodie?" Each question met with nothing but the silence you were buried in.
You saw confusion start to shift in his face. His brows furrowed. His shoulders pulled taut. He’d ask something, and when you didn’t answer, his eyes would narrow slightly like he was starting to notice that something was wrong but still couldn’t connect the dots.
And that hurt more than anything.
Because to you, the answer was obvious. You were bleeding right in front of him, and he was asking why the floor looked red.
You were brushing your teeth late that night when he leaned on the bathroom doorframe, arms crossed.
"Are you gonna stay mad forever?"
You blinked once and spat the toothpaste into the sink, wiped your mouth without answering.
He waited.
"I seriously don’t know what I did," he said, his voice cracking a little with frustration. "If you’re not gonna tell me, how am I supposed to fix it?"
You turned off the bathroom light and walked past him.
The door didn’t slam this time. It clicked shut, soft and final.
By the time Thursday night arrived, he looked exhausted. You couldn’t tell if it was from the studio or from trying to figure out what had changed. Probably both.
You sat on the couch with your arms crossed, the TV playing something you weren’t even watching.
He stood in the doorway for a while, watching you with an unreadable expression.
Then finally, he said it. “I’m gonna go to the practice room for a bit.”
You didn’t flinch. Didn’t react.
“Maybe you just need space or something,” he muttered. “I don’t know. I don’t want to keep bothering you.”
You bit your lip so hard it nearly bled.
Space?
That’s what he thought this was about?
He thought you were ignoring him because you needed air? Not because he’d forgotten the one day you were silently hoping he’d remember? Not because he’d made you feel like loving him was a chore? Like your affection was an obstacle?
You blinked at the screen, your eyes glassy. The show kept playing. You didn’t even know what episode you were on.
He waited a moment longer.
Then the door shut.
And suddenly you were alone. Again.
The tears finally came, thick and hot, as soon as his footsteps faded. They weren’t quiet this time. You choked on them, the kind that made your chest heave and your throat close. Your hands shook.
Because you were tired.
Tired of giving the benefit of the doubt. Tired of excuses. Tired of being too scared to say it’s my birthday tomorrow and you’ve done nothing. Tired of hoping he would see you, without you having to beg for it.
How could he not know?
How could he be so oblivious?
And still… you couldn't bring yourself to tell him.
Because wasn’t that the whole point?
You wanted to be chosen. Not reminded.
You wanted him to remember, not be told.
And tomorrow…
Tomorrow, when you woke up…
It would be your birthday.
And you had no idea if he would know it.
The practice room lights were dim, buzzing faintly overhead like the last nerve in Jisung’s mind, frayed and twitching. He stepped inside without much thought, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie, and let out a breath that seemed to deflate his whole body. His legs gave out near the far wall, slumping down onto the cold wooden floor beside Hyunjin, who looked like he’d just finished drowning in sweat and choreography.
Jeongin was sitting criss-cross at the center of the room, stretching lazily with one earbud still dangling from his hoodie. Felix lay flat on his back beside him, chest heaving with tired breaths, while Minho scrolled through his phone like he hadn’t just danced for two hours straight.
The energy in the room was comfortable. Familiar. But the second Jisung sat down, it shifted.
Hyunjin glanced at him sideways. “What are you doing here?”
Felix sat up halfway, his brow scrunched. “Don’t you usually spend your days off with Y/N?”
“Wait—yeah,” Jeongin chimed in, tossing his head back. “Isn’t this, like, a once-in-a-blue-moon thing for you to be here on a day off?”
Jisung didn’t respond at first.
He exhaled hard and let his head fall back against the mirror. “She’s not talking to me.”
That caught their attention.
“What?” Hyunjin blinked.
“Like... ignoring you ignoring you?” Felix asked, scooting closer.
“Yeah. Since yesterday. Full-on silent treatment. Not even a shrug. Just—blank face. No words.” Jisung pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. “And I swear to God it’s driving me insane.”
“Damn,” Jeongin muttered under his breath.
Minho looked up from his phone. “Did you do something?”
Jisung shook his head instantly. “No! I mean—I don’t think so? I don’t know.”
Jeongin snorted. “That’s not convincing.”
“I didn’t, though!” he snapped. “Like—okay, yeah, maybe I was kind of short with her the other night, but I was working. She came into the studio while I was trying to get this chorus down and I got frustrated, that’s all. I didn’t say anything bad.”
Minho raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”
“She tried talking to me a couple times that day and I just—I asked for space. I was in the zone.” Jisung rubbed his temples, groaning. “She knows how I get when I’m writing. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“And then she just stopped talking to you?” Hyunjin asked, skeptical.
“Yeah. Didn’t even respond when I asked what she wanted for dinner. Hasn’t said a single word in two days. Like, is that normal?”
Felix frowned. “Sounds like she’s hurt.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t get why,” Jisung said, his voice raising without him meaning to. “I didn’t yell at her, I didn’t say anything cruel, I just... I was working! I asked for space!”
Jeongin gave him a long, unimpressed look. “Okay, but did you look at her?”
Jisung paused. “What?”
“I mean... when she came to see you, when she tried talking to you—did you actually look at her? Like—her face? Her energy? The way she was holding herself?”
Jisung frowned, caught off guard. “I mean... not really? I was focused.”
Felix leaned forward, soft but serious. “Maybe that’s the problem.”
Silence fell for a moment. The kind that starts to crawl into your chest when people say things you aren’t ready to hear.
“You probably said something you didn’t even notice,” Hyunjin said, wiping his forehead with a towel. “You do that when you’re in work mode. You push people away without meaning to.”
“I was just trying to finish my song,” Jisung muttered. But even he could hear the defensiveness in his voice.
Minho finally chimed in. “Then maybe ask yourself what’s more important—your music, or the way you treat the person who’s always there supporting it.”
The words hit harder than Jisung expected. They weren’t said harshly. Just plainly. Truthfully.
And they made his stomach twist.
He hated the idea that he had done something careless. That while he was focused on not forgetting a lyric, he might’ve forgotten her. Forgotten how hard she tried to love him even when he was too preoccupied to notice.
Jisung leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands knotted together tightly.
“She looked so blank,” he mumbled. “I didn’t realize how... quiet she really was. I thought she just needed space.”
Jeongin raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe she was waiting for you to realize something.”
The silence that followed was sharp.
Jisung blinked down at the floor, the thought nagging at him like a weight on his back. He hated the way it made his chest feel tight. The way guilt started to form like smoke in his lungs.
And then..
Hyunjin, ever the emotional antenna in the room, turned to him with an almost casual question.
“So, anyway—what do you have planned for her birthday tomorrow?”
Jisung laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “Nah, it’s not tomorrow. It’s next week or something. The—uh—the 11th, right?”
“Tomorrow is the 11th,” Jeongin deadpanned.
Jisung froze.
His hands went numb.
He instinctively pulled out his phone, thumbing the lock screen, eyes scanning the date like it had betrayed him.
Thursday, July 10th.
Tomorrow: Friday, July 11th.
His world tilted.
“No…” he breathed. “No way.”
Felix’s face fell as realization hit him too. “You didn’t…?”
Hyunjin stared at him in disbelief. “You forgot her birthday.”
“I—” Jisung's voice caught in his throat. “No—I didn’t—I just—I thought—shit—”
The words splintered into chaos. He dropped his phone. His mind was spinning.
It wasn’t just the date. It was everything. The way she came to him asking if he was free Friday. The way she tried to kiss him, twice. The way she’d softened into his side that night in bed, begging silently for him to hold her. The way she hadn’t said a word since.
The way she hadn’t cried. Not where he could see. But oh god, she had cried, hadn’t she?
He missed all of it.
He missed her.
“Oh my god,” he whispered.
Minho stared at him, arms folded. “Now do you get it?”
“She was trying to see if I remembered,” Jisung muttered, like he was trying to convince himself the sky was blue. “She didn’t even say it out loud. She just… asked if I had Friday off.”
“That’s the worst part,” Felix said gently. “She didn’t want to remind you. She wanted you to care enough to remember.”
A punch to the gut wouldn’t have hurt as much.
Jisung buried his face in his hands.
“I fucked up.”
“Yeah,” Jeongin muttered. “Kinda bad.”
He didn't even argue.
Because he could see it now, all of it. Her silence wasn’t punishment. It was heartbreak. It was the sound of someone giving up.
And tomorrow, her birthday, she’d wake up in a house full of silence, thinking the person she loved most in the world didn’t remember or care enough to say a single word.
The second the realization hit, Jisung couldn’t sit still.
He shot to his feet like the floor had burned him, nearly tripping over Felix’s outstretched legs. The others barely had time to register his panic before he was already moving, storming out of the practice room, heart pounding in his chest, the door slamming shut behind him with a crack that echoed down the hall.
He barely heard Jeongin’s “Hey—where are you going?” Didn’t stop to explain. Didn’t even breathe.
He’d forgotten.
Your birthday.
Tomorrow.
No, today. It was past midnight now.
He had forgotten your birthday.
The one day he was supposed to remember. The one day you never reminded him of because you always wanted to be seen without having to ask.
And instead of showing you love, he’d brushed you off. Pushed you away. Told you that your affection, your literal presence was a distraction.
It made him sick to think of your face in that moment now. The softness of your voice when you asked him if he was free. The way you leaned in, tried to kiss him. How your touch lingered on his shoulder like you were silently begging him not to let go.
And he had.
Without a second thought.
He hurt you.
The company doors banged shut behind him as he ran into the cool night air.
The streets were mostly empty, the last few buses rumbling past. He tugged his hood up and darted toward the only place that made sense, the only place he could think of at a time like this:
Your favorite bakery.
Even though he knew it was close to closing. Even though the odds were against him.
He didn’t care. He had to try.
He arrived, chest heaving, legs burning, and nearly slammed into the glass door.
Inside, the lights were still on. But barely.
The workers were already cleaning up, putting chairs on tables, wiping down the counters. Their eyes shifted to him the second he pushed the door open.
He could see it on their faces. That “please don’t walk in” expression masked with tired politeness.
“Can I get a cake?” he blurted, breathless.
One of the girls forced a smile. “We’re just closing up, I’m sorry—”
“I know,” he said quickly, stepping closer. “I’m really sorry, I wouldn’t be here this late unless it was an emergency. I forgot something really important. Someone’s birthday. Someone I love.”
Something in his voice must’ve hit them.
Because after a beat, the girl sighed, glanced at the display case, and muttered, “I think we have one left. Lucky night, I guess.”
Jisung’s heart flipped.
She returned a second later with a small cake box in hand.
Your favorite flavor.
He could’ve cried.
He ran the whole way home. The cake safely in his arms. Careful. Intentional.
When he got back, the apartment was dark. Quiet. You were already asleep.
He peeked into the bedroom, you were curled up, turned away from the door, your shoulders tense even in rest. You looked… small. Worn out.
The guilt twisted inside him like a knife.
He closed the door gently. Didn’t make a sound.
Then he stared at the living room and kitchen like they were a blank canvas.
And he got to work.
He didn’t sleep.
He blew up balloons some crooked, some lopsided. He taped pictures of the two of you on the walls, printed ones he’d taken in secret during your late-night snack runs, your beach trip, even that one where you were brushing your teeth with a scowl.
He strung up a makeshift “Happy Birthday” banner, cut by hand with scraps of colored paper. He’d messed up the “R” three times. It still looked wrong.
He pulled out the small gifts he’d forgotten he had been meaning to give you, the lyrics he’d scribbled in the back of a notebook weeks ago, inspired by something you said while laughing. A hair clip you pointed at in a store once. He wrapped them in old sheet music.
He wrote a letter. Messy. Panicked. Honest. Full of crossed-out words and a giant smudge where he wiped his eyes.
He arranged it all by the time the clock hit 1:00 a.m.
And then he collapsed on the couch mid-balloon. One still half-inflated in his hands.
He didn’t hear the bedroom door creak open.
Didn’t feel the light of the hallway hit his face.
But the moment you moved, He did.
His body shot up like he was jolted back to life.
There you were.
Standing in the hallway, arms crossed over your chest, the expression on your face carefully blank, but your eyes spoke volumes.
You were still upset.
Rightfully.
You hadn’t forgotten. You hadn’t forgiven.
But he didn’t care if you hated him for another hour, another day, a week he had to show you something real now.
“Wait—don’t look yet!” he rushed, nearly tripping over a balloon.
You blinked slowly, unimpressed.
He walked up to you, gently reaching his hands to cover your eyes. You didn’t resist, but you didn’t soften, either.
He felt the chill in your posture. The hurt still lingering in your shoulders.
“Please,” he whispered. “Just... let me try.”
He guided you, quietly. Carefully.
His hands shook.
He stopped you in front of the living room, heart pounding against his ribs.
“Okay,” he murmured. “Now.”
He removed his hands from your eyes.
The lights were low. The table was covered in flickering tea candles. The little cake, topped with your favorite frosting. Photos taped to balloons hovered above.
Your name was scrawled across the banner in bright colors. The gifts sat nearby. His letter peeking out from under them.
He stepped in front of you.
“Happy birthday,” he said, breathless. “I’m sorry I forgot. I’m sorry I hurt you. I know this doesn’t fix it, but I needed you to know, I know now. And I’m not going to forget again.”
You stared.
Expression unreadable. Chest tight.
He could see your jaw twitch like you were trying not to smile. But your eyes were glassy. The corners of your mouth shifted ever so slightly. You nearly cracked.
Nearly.
But the silence remained.
Because what he hurt wasn’t something decorations could patch up.
And still, you stood there.
Looking at him.
Looking at the effort.
The mess.
The truth.
And for the first time in days,
You didn’t look away.
The soft flicker of candlelight painted the room in warm hues, casting shadows over the clumsy decorations, the carefully placed gifts, the melting frosting on your cake.
It should have felt special. Thoughtful. Sweet.
But it didn’t.
Not yet.
Jisung stood just in front of you, his breathing uneven. His hands hung awkwardly by his sides like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. He looked nervous. Not in the cute, shy way he usually did when he surprised you, but the kind that made his whole frame feel like it was waiting to collapse.
You didn’t speak.
You didn’t move.
Your arms remained crossed, your expression unreadable, carefully neutral, but your eyes were fixed on him. Not the decorations. Not the cake. Not the pictures or the presents.
Just him.
And that silence, heavier than any door slam or raised voice, pierced deeper than either of you were ready to admit.
He finally swallowed hard. “I… I didn’t sleep. I stayed up all night working on this.”
You blinked slowly. Once.
“I ran all the way to the bakery before they closed,” he added, as if that explained anything. “They only had one cake left. I—I begged them.”
Still nothing.
He shifted on his feet, his eyes scanning your face, searching for something, anything to tell him he was getting through. That he hadn’t completely shattered the fragile thread between you.
But your face remained calm. Distant.
“I didn’t mean to forget,” he said softly, almost pleading. “I swear I didn’t mean to—”
You finally moved. Not toward him.
Just your head, tilting slightly.
Your eyes flicked over the decorations. The half-deflated balloon on the couch. The misspelled banner. The crumpled wrapping paper around a small box. The cake. The candles, now half-melted.
And then back to him.
A beat passed.
And then your voice quiet, hoarse, deliberate cut through the air.
“You didn’t mean to forget,” you echoed, almost to yourself. “But you did.”
Jisung flinched.
Because hearing it said out loud like that made it feel real all over again.
You didn’t yell. You didn’t accuse. You didn’t cry.
You just told the truth.
And somehow, that hurt more.
“I know,” he whispered, guilt tightening in his chest like a fist.
You finally stepped forward, walking past him, not bothering to ask if you could. You stood before the table, staring down at the small cake in the center. Your favorite flavor.
It looked perfect.
But it felt... wrong.
Uncomfortable.
Artificial.
You were quiet for a long time before you spoke again.
“You know what hurt the most?” you asked, eyes still on the table.
Jisung slowly turned to face you, but didn’t interrupt.
“It wasn’t that you forgot the date,” you said, voice trembling just enough to betray your restraint. “It’s that I came to you, twice, and you didn’t even look at me.”
He said nothing.
“I asked if you were free,” you continued, quieter. “And you brushed me off. I tried to kiss you, and you called me a distraction. You said you almost forgot your lyrics like I was in the way.”
The words cut like glass.
“And then you came to bed,” you said bitterly, shaking your head, “and instead of pulling me close, you scolded me again. You didn’t notice that I didn’t say anything back. You didn’t ask why I turned away.”
Jisung’s voice caught. “I didn’t know—”
“I know you didn’t,” you snapped suddenly, turning to face him now, arms still crossed but your chest rising fast, “because you didn’t care to know. You were too wrapped up in your music to notice that I was hurting. That I was right there in front of you, trying everything I could to be seen.”
His mouth opened. Closed.
“I didn’t want cake,” you said, softer now. “I didn’t want decorations or balloons or even a gift.”
Your voice cracked just slightly.
“I wanted you to remember me.”
A silence fell over the room that made even the candles seem to quiet.
Jisung’s heart felt like it had dropped out of his body.
Because now he saw it.
All of it.
This wasn’t about a forgotten birthday.
It was about what that forgetfulness meant to you.
That in the middle of his chaotic, music-fueled mind, you had fallen out of focus. And not just the date, you. Your presence. Your love. Your place beside him.
And the worst part?
You hadn’t yelled. You hadn’t begged.
You’d just gotten quiet.
And he hadn’t noticed until it was too late.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, but it sounded so small now. So empty in the shadow of everything you’d just said.
You looked at him for a long, long moment.
There was something raw in your expression now. Not anger. Not even sadness.
Just tiredness.
And then you gave a faint shrug.
“I know you are,” you said. “But I’m still hurt.”
You turned back toward the hallway slowly.
And before you walked away, you added one final thing,
“I don’t need grand gestures, Jisung.”
You paused.
“I just need to know I matter without having to remind you.”
And then you left him standing there.
Alone in a room full of balloons.
-
Morning came heavy.
The early light filtered in through the curtains in faded strips, casting muted patterns across the floor and walls. You were already awake, had been for hours. Lying still in bed, eyes on the ceiling, a dull ache stretching across your chest.
You hadn’t slept much.
Even after he decorated the night before. Even after the surprise. The effort.
The reminder that he cared, but only after he realized he’d forgotten.
There was something deeply hollow in the pit of your stomach. Something disappointment couldn’t fully name.
It wasn’t that he didn’t love you.
It was that he didn’t see you when you needed him to.
And you weren’t sure a cake at 1:00 a.m. was going to fix that.
When you finally got up, you didn’t say a word.
You padded into the living room, careful to avoid looking at the decorations still up. They felt… false. Like remnants of something built on guilt rather than intention.
Jisung was already awake, curled up on the couch, eyes half-lidded and red from lack of sleep.
He sat up immediately when he heard you.
"Morning," he said, softly cautiously.
You didn’t respond. Not even a glance in his direction.
He frowned but didn’t push.
You passed him, quiet as ever, and walked to the kitchen. The clatter of a mug on the counter was the loudest sound in the apartment. You poured yourself water. That was it. No breakfast.
He stood a minute later, stretching awkwardly. He hovered, just a few steps behind. Like he wanted to be close but didn’t know if he had permission anymore.
The silence between you was crushing.
He trailed you throughout the day, always within sight. Always trying to stay near you like he could fix the damage just by being close.
He didn’t go to practice. Didn’t write. Didn’t open his laptop or touch his notebook.
Instead, he lingered.
Watching.
Waiting.
Hovering.
When you sat on the floor to organize a drawer you didn’t really need to organize, he sat a few feet away, legs crossed, pretending to scroll through his phone, but his eyes kept flicking over to you. Quietly hopeful. Painfully anxious.
You didn’t speak.
When you changed rooms, he followed.
Not in an overbearing way just enough to make it known he was still there. That he was trying, even if he didn’t know how.
By the time afternoon crept in, you were still silent.
You didn’t eat.
Not out of pettiness, but because your emotions were so knotted, so close to the surface, that even chewing felt like a chore. Food would make this real. Food would be you accepting the day.
And right now, you weren’t ready.
Jisung noticed. Of course he did. But he didn’t say anything.
He just... watched you.
With a kind of quiet panic in his eyes that made it clear he was spiraling inside.
By late evening, the tension had become a third person in the room breathing heavily, sitting between you on the couch, pressing against your sides.
You were scrolling absently on your phone. You hadn’t spoken in hours.
He was next to you, knees pulled to his chest, a small cushion hugged against his stomach. His hair was a mess, his hoodie wrinkled. He looked miserable, but kept pretending to be calm.
Then, in the quiet, your stomach growled.
Loudly.
Painfully loud in the dead silence.
You immediately stilled, eyes widening.
Jisung’s head whipped toward you.
There was a pause.
A long, too-long beat where his mouth twitched, like he was fighting it.
And then he laughed.
Not obnoxiously. Not teasingly.
But a soft, breathless, startled kind of laugh. Like the kind that slips out when the universe plays a joke on you.
He clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide like he knew he wasn’t supposed to laugh, but he couldn’t help it.
And for just one second, you cracked.
Your face twisted as you tried to stay stern. Tried to keep the front up. But the ridiculousness of it all, the dead silence, your growling stomach, the haunted look on his face, broke something loose.
You choked on your own breath, and suddenly a small laugh escaped you.
Not a big one. Not even a full sound. But enough.
His eyes softened instantly.
The tension snapped not fully, but just enough for the room to breathe again.
He stood, carefully, like approaching a wild animal that might still bite. Then walked toward you, slow and sure, eyes never leaving your face.
"Hey," he said, voice rough with exhaustion and emotion. "Look, I know you’re still pissed. And you should be."
You didn’t answer, but you didn’t look away either.
“I’ll apologize as many times as you want. I’ll keep groveling for the rest of the year if I have to,” he said, gently, kneeling in front of you now. His hands rested on the couch cushion beside your legs, not touching you. Just near.
“But right now… I need to celebrate you. Just a little. Just today. You haven’t eaten. You haven’t let yourself breathe. And I know I ruined the start of your day, but I’m begging you, please let me try to salvage the end of it.”
You blinked at him. Slow. Guarded.
“I know I messed up,” he said again, voice shaking. “But you don’t deserve to be hungry on your birthday. You don’t deserve to sit here feeling invisible. You deserve cake and your favorite food and someone telling you that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to them.”
His throat bobbed.
“I’m that someone. I swear I am.”
You didn’t move. You didn’t smile. But your lip quivered.
And he saw it.
He saw that flicker. That tiny unraveling.
So he slowly reached out his fingers brushing yours, tentative, waiting for rejection.
But you didn’t pull away.
Not this time.
He let out a shaky breath, and his grip tightened slightly around your hand.
“I’m ordering your favorite,” he said softly. “And I’m not letting you lift a finger tonight. You’re going to eat, and if you want, we’ll sit in silence. Or we’ll watch that show you love. Or I’ll leave after. Whatever you want. Just… let me be here for you. Like I should have been from the start.”
Another pause.
Then, barely audible
“Please.”
The air between you had shifted, slightly, like clouds parting just enough for a patch of sun to warm the skin. Still cloudy. Still heavy. But there was warmth now. And that was a start.
You watched him as he pulled out his phone, thumb hovering over the food delivery app. “Your usual?” he asked gently, cautious but hopeful.
You nodded.
But just before he tapped the screen, you spoke, your voice barely louder than a whisper.
“…Add a brown sugar bubble tea.”
He looked up at you, surprised.
Your eyes met his briefly.
A small corner of his mouth lifted, hesitant at first, like he wasn’t sure if a smile was allowed, but when you didn’t pull away, it widened with quiet relief. That moment, tiny as it was, cracked something in both of you.
He tapped a few buttons and said, “Large brown sugar milk tea with extra pearls, 50% sugar, less ice. Right?”
You nodded again.
“…Thank you,” you added softly.
His eyes softened, his shoulders dropping slightly as if he’d been holding his breath this entire time. “It’ll be here soon,” he said, setting his phone down on the coffee table.
Then he moved slowly like approaching a fragile edge of ice.
He sat beside you, close enough to feel his warmth again, but not crowding you. Not forcing anything.
And then, gently, he leaned his head on your shoulder. Slowly tilted further down until he was lying across the couch, his legs curled and head tucked carefully against your side. One arm draped loosely across your lap, his grip feather-light. His face pressed into the hem of your hoodie.
“I'm so sorry,” he whispered against you. “God, I’m so sorry.”
The words were hoarse. Choked.
Not dramatic. Not performative.
Just real.
Repeated again, like a mantra. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
You ran your fingers through the sleeve hem of your hoodie for a moment, eyes staring past him, before you finally said, “I know.”
He turned his face a little, just enough to glance up at you.
“I forgive you,” you murmured, after a beat. “But I need you to know that you really, really hurt me.”
His breath hitched, but he nodded slowly.
You kept your voice steady. Firm but not harsh.
“I wasn’t even upset about the birthday anymore,” you said quietly. “You know I’ve never cared about birthdays that much.”
You paused.
“But when I asked if you had Friday off, you barely looked at me. And then I tried again, and you told me I was distracting you. Like I was bothering you. Like I was some kind of obstacle in your way.”
Jisung’s eyes dropped. His fingers curled tighter against your lap. He stayed completely still.
“That’s what hurt,” you said, voice finally cracking slightly. “Not the forgetting. But the pushing away. Like I was too much. Like I was getting in the way of your real priorities.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he whispered, desperate. “I wasn’t thinking. I was overwhelmed, I should’ve stopped and seen you.”
“You didn’t even notice when I stopped talking to you,” you added, looking down at him. “I was right there. And you didn’t even ask.”
His chest rose sharply, his lips pressing into a thin, broken line.
“I’ve been kicking myself for that for two days,” he said quietly. “I kept thinking, ‘Why is she being so cold?’ And I didn’t even consider that it was because I had gone cold first. I made you feel like a burden when you were just trying to love me.”
You didn’t say anything, but your eyes softened at that.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
“You’re not a burden. You’re my peace. My home. And I treated you like you were noise.”
That hit something in you. Hard.
Because that was the truth you had no words for until now. You hadn’t wanted flowers or presents, you’d wanted to be met. To be held in mind and heart like you always did for him. You were asking to be cherished, just for a moment. And he hadn’t shown up.
But now, here he was.
Curled around you like an apology with a heartbeat.
You let your hand fall gently to his hair, fingers brushing through the soft strands.
And you finally said, “Just… don’t let me feel like that again.”
“I won’t,” he said immediately, his voice thick. “I swear, I won’t.”
You tilted down slightly to meet his gaze. His eyes were red. Teary. He looked so small, so ashamed, but so present.
“I love you,” he said, his voice cracking. “Even when I’m stupid. Especially then.”
You gave him a small, tired smile.
“You are stupid,” you whispered.
He exhaled a breath of a laugh. And then looked at you again, this time with a question in his eyes.
You didn’t answer with words.
You leaned down, cupped his cheek gently, and kissed him.
Not soft.
Not dramatic.
But real. Lingering. Quietly desperate.
His arms wrapped around your waist instantly, pulling you closer, holding you like something he thought he’d lost. He kissed you back like he was still apologizing through every movement like he didn’t deserve you, but would spend the rest of his life making it up.
When you pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed, breathing shallow.
“Happy birthday,” he whispered, barely audible.
You closed your eyes.
And for the first time all day, you smiled.
“I still want that bubble tea,” you whispered.
He laughed into your shoulder, voice warm now, full of the relief he hadn’t dared hope for hours ago.
“You’re getting it,” he said, kissing your temple. “I’ll buy you ten. I’ll buy the whole damn shop.”
“You better,” you muttered, resting your hand over his.
And for the first time in days, the silence between you didn’t ache.
It simply held.
//
a/n: for 🌺 anon.
masterlist.
[official taglist: @alisonyus @lenfilms @captainchrisstan @anastasiiiiaaaaa @emilyywhyy @ready2readnwrite @nyxaluna @tricky-ritz @tsunderelino @wickedbutlovely @delulumel @shinygubbins @hhwangsmoon lmk if you’d like to be added/removed 😙 ..]
warnings: unprotected sex; pussy drunk han; dry humping; fingering; handjob; oral sex (f!receiving); begging; overstimulation; cum play; squirting; voyeurism; exhibitionism
summary: tuition is really expensive, so expensive that when your friends joke about you and han doing a livestream together to get money, you actually consider doing it. it’s just one livestream with your best friend so you both can get some cash, a stupid idea that might become the best one you’ve ever had
live: unfiltered series
the café near the campus is always crowded after the afternoon classes. students occupy almost every table, their laptops open beside their half-finished coffees and all of the conversations blending into one constant hum.
han sits next to you, lazily stirring the whipped cream into his coffee even though it’s already completely mixed. felix sits in front of you, his bag already abandoned on the floor, while hyunjin sits next to him, stretching in his chair like he has absolutely nowhere else to be.
“so”, felix says, “are we officially dead?”
hyunjin laughs, “i’ve been dead since the year started”
“you’re so dramatic”, han says.
hyunjin points at him, “says you!”
han raises an eyebrow, “i’m not dramatic”
you shake your head with a laugh, “jisung… you are just as dramatic as hyunjin”
he gasps and felix grins shamelessly.
“i can’t believe you two”, han says as he looks at you then at felix, shaking his head before he takes a sip of his drink, “you two are awful friends”
“no, we’re amazing friends”, felix corrects him.
you laugh again and then start talking about your classes and your professors and the impossible amount of reading that each of them somehow believes is reasonable - it’s not, you all stand by that.
“i have an exam next monday, a presentation the day after, then another exam the following day, and two reports due before friday”, hyunjin says as he sighs and places a hand over his chest.
you blink, “how are those all in the same week?”
he shakes his head, “i don’t know. i’m honestly thinking about jumping off of very tall somethings”
“did your professors plan it together?”, felix asks him.
“i think they formed a secret committee", hyunjin says.
han chuckles, “the committee against student happiness and free time”
“exactly”, hyunjin says before he sighs and then raises his coffee, “to surviving another semester”
you all laugh and lift your cups.
“to surviving”
you clink them together and then continue talking, or maybe complaining is a more appropriate word for what you are doing there. as hyunjin and felix are talking about the exam felix took the other day, han sighs and then leans back in his chair.
“our shift tomorrow starts at seven”, he tells you.
you groan, “please don’t remind me”
felix hears you talking and then winces, “oh, are you two opening again?”
you and han work together in the café and even though today it’s your day off - which is something that happens once in a while - you work there most of the days, your shifts always together.
“yeah”, you say as you lean back in your chair like han did.
“didn’t you close last night?”, hyunjin asks.
“we did, yeah”, han says, nodding his head.
“and you have to open tomorrow? that’s evil”, hyunjin says.
“it pays”, you say with a shrug.
“barely”, han mutters.
you sigh and take another sip of your drink.
“everything okay?”, felix says as he looks between you.
han gives a small shrug, “yeah”
“you sure?”, hyunjin asks this time.
han exhales through his nose, “yeah, it’s just… tuition”
you lower your eyes to your coffee, “my payment deadline is next month”
“mine too”, han says.
felix frowns, “i thought your jobs at the café were helping”
“they help”, you say, “they just don’t help enough”
han rubs the back of his neck, “there’s so much stuff going on that comes before that, like groceries, our books… and by the time everything’s paid, well… there isn’t much left”
hyunjin’s face softens, feeling a bit sorry for you both, “i didn’t realise it was that bad”
“we didn’t really tell anyone”, you say.
“it’s embarrassing”, han says.
“it shouldn’t be”, felix says immediately, “a lot of students struggle with tuition”
“i know but it just feels…”, you say as you try to find the correct word, “frustrating”
han lets out a quiet laugh without any humour in it, “we keep picking up extra shifts, but then we miss study time and if we study less, our grades suffer”
felix sighs, “it’s a never ending cycle”
you both hum, none of you disagreeing because that’s what is currently happening.
“there has to be something”, hyunjin says as he taps his fingers against his coffee cup.
“we’ve tried everything: scholarships, financial aid, selling old books or stuff… but nothing”, han says.
“maybe another job?”, felix asks.
you smile weakly, “i don’t think there’s enough time in the day. we already work here almost every day”
“including weekends”, han adds.
hyunjin watches the two of you for another second before he speaks again, “what about making money online?”
han looks at him, “online?”
“yeah”
han snorts, “you overestimate how interesting we are”
“no, what i’m trying to say is…”, hyunjin says, “there is one type of livestream that makes people a lot of money”
“what do you mean?”, you ask him, feeling a bit lost.
hyunjin scratches the back of his neck, suddenly looking amused by his own suggestion.
“you know…”, he says as he gestures vaguely with both hands, “that type of livestream”
you and han exchange equally confused looks and then felix, unlike hyunjin, doesn’t dance around the subject.
“have sex on camera”, he says it plainly.
you stare at hyunjin then at felix, convinced for a second that you misheard him, “... what?”
han blinks and his mouth opens slightly before closing again, “you can’t be serious”, he finally says.
hyunjin shrugs, “i’m serious”
you feel heat immediately rush to your face, “so you’re saying…”, you begin before your own sentence trails off.
hyunjin winces a little and then raises his hands a bit as to defend himself, “i mean- it was just an idea”
“an idea? you call that an idea?”, han repeats, his voice climbing an octave.
“you said you need money”, felix says.
“yeah, but we didn’t ask how to destroy our dignity”, han says as he moves his hands around.
“i didn’t say you had to actually do it, it was just an idea”, hyunjin says slowly, trying to calm you both down.
han lets out an incredulous laugh, “i can’t believe we’re even having this conversation”
you risk a glance at him and unfortunately, he looks at you at exactly the same moment. your eyes meet for less than a second and then, you both look away again, an awkward silence settling over you.
hyunjin raises his hands again, “hey, it was only an idea, okay?”
“we’re not forcing you to do it”, felix continues.
“i just threw it out there because people really do make good money”, hyunjin says.
“yeah, and it isn’t always…”, felix speaks again, searching for the right words, “just, you know, people having sex on camera”
han slowly looks up, “what do you mean?”
“i mean that there are different kinds of livestreams”, felix continues, “sometimes people just… kiss and make out, others touch each other a little, and yeah, others have sex. there are viewers for all of it, you don’t necessarily have to go all the way on camera if you don’t want to”
han sits perfectly still beside you and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s just as uncomfortable as you are. not because of what hyunjin and felix are saying, but because your brain immediately pictures the impossible scenario: you and han, together, having sex while strangers watch you.
you squeeze your eyes shut for the briefest moment before forcing the image away.
“that’s insane”, han says, but you can tell his voice lacks the certainty it had a minute ago.
felix doesn’t argue, “i’m not saying it isn’t, i’m just saying people do it”
you keep staring at your drink as han looks at felix and hyunjin, none of you daring to look at each other.
hyunjin looks at you before he speaks again, “you don’t have to decide anything right now, we’re not trying to pressure you”, he says, as felix nods his head, “it was just something that came to mind. just think about it and if you hate the idea that much, then that’s the end of it”
neither han nor you respond, you simply sit there, your eyes fixed anywhere except on each other, while the conversation dies away and the thought lingers far longer than either of you wants to admit.
that night, you’re lying in your bed, staring at the ceiling as you think about what hyunjin and felix said before. you think how ridiculous and embarrassing it would be, but your brain keeps working against you - tuition, bills, groceries and everything else, the numbers line up in your head without even trying.
every paycheck from the café disappears almost as soon as it arrives, every month is another balancing act. you’re exhausted, because no matter what you do, it’s still not enough.
what if you actually did it?
the thought slips in before you can stop it. you think again about how embarrassing it would be but you also know that if you ever did something like that, there is only one person you could imagine yourself doing it with.
han.
simply because he’s just han, your best friend. if you ever had to make yourself that vulnerable, you know you’d feel safer with him than with anyone else.
you roll onto your side, hugging your pillow against your chest. you wonder if you brought it up this time, if he would even consider it, or if he would think poorly of you or look at you any different. he has been one of the closest people in your life for years and the last thing you want is to make things awkward between you over something like this.
maybe you should forget it, pretend that conversation never happened and find another solution somehow, even if you have absolutely no idea what that solution could be. you turn in your bed again and then, your phone buzzes on the bedside table. you reach over and pick it up, seeing the screen light up with a new text from han. you stare at his name for a bit and then open his text.
han: should we talk about it?
breathe in, breathe out, and then repeat, again and again.
that’s what you tell yourself as you sit in your bed wearing only your light pink lingerie as han sits beside you in only his black boxers, none of you daring to look at each other yet.
a couple of nights ago, just after han had texted you, you told him to come over to your dorm, the conversation far too important to have it over text. as soon as he arrived and you sat together, the conversation started awkwardly, painfully awkwardly, but both of you knew what was coming: both of you knew you had to do the livestream, part of you knew it was because you needed the money and another part was because deep down you knew that even though you had acted strongly against it at the beginning, it was the opposite now.
you both wanted to do it, but still, it was a bit awkward and strange. well, very awkward and strange.
you spent hours trying to think of how to do it, talking about trust and boundaries, about what you would do if either of you were uncomfortable during the livestream, how to stop if one of you changed your mind.
“if either of us says we’re done”, you had said, “then we’re done”
“yeah, i agree”, han said as he nodded his head.
you had said that you would only do it once, that you would hopefully get the money you needed and that’s it, you’re done. then you both said that you weren’t going to tell anyone you were doing this, not even hyunjin and felix, and that you would never talk about this again, han had shaken his head strongly at that.
“so… are we actually doing this?”, he asked you once you had discussed everything.
you looked at him, and then nodded your head, “yeah, i guess we are”
that was then, and now, it’s the moment of truth.
your phone is right in front of you, the web ready and the only thing you need to do is press the button and the livestream will finally start, just one tap and everything will change. you look at han from the corner of your eye, his curly hair and his glasses doing nothing to hide how nervous he is right now. you’re nervous too, of course, but seeing him like that, next to you… you can’t deny that the sight is going straight to your core, making you press your thighs together, and you hope he doesn’t realise what you’re doing.
“you can still back out”, you hear him say suddenly.
you turn to look at him properly and you find him already looking at you.
“so can you”, you tell him.
“i know”
for another long moment, neither of you moves as you sit there, trying to convince yourselves that the decision you’ve made is one you can follow through on and hoping that once it’s over, it won’t make things awkward between you.
breathe in, breathe out.
the words loop in your head like a mantra, but they do nothing to calm the nervous flutter in your stomach or the slick warmth already gathering in your panties. after another pause, you speak again, your voice low but steady.
“jisung… are you ready?”
han swallows hard, his eyes flicking to yours again, wide behind his glasses. he nods his head once, then again, more firmly this time.
“yeah, i think so”
your fingers tremble as you reach for your phone and then, you press the live button. the counter starts with no viewers and then climbs almost instantly, people already entering the stream and the messages start before you can even wave to the camera.
you lift your hand and smile, trying to look confident even though your pulse is hammering and your hand is shaking.
“hey everyone… hi”
han leans forwards slightly and gives a small and awkward bow. you reach out without thinking, your palm landing on his shoulder to stop him mid-motion. he freezes, his eyes widening, clearly worried he’s already messed up.
princessonline: omg first-timers??
cumslut: you two look so cute together
you laugh, the sound a little shaky, and then you rub your arm, “yeah… it’s our first time doing… this”, you say as you feel your cheeks burning.
han clears his throat, his voice cracking as he speaks, “we’re… uh… we’re doing this because we need money for university and-”
your hand shoots out again, your fingers wrapping around his wrist.
“jisung! you don’t have to say that”, you whisper sharply, your eyes wide.
he stares at you, his cheeks flushing deep red, his glasses slipping down his nose. the chat goes wild.
midnightwolf: this is gonna be fun
edgequeen: protect them at all costs
the donations start coming in and the numbers climb on screen. you breathe in and out again and then turn towards han, your knees brushing his as he turns to look at you at the same time. your faces are inches apart now and neither of you knows exactly how to start. your hands hover uselessly in the space between you and then you both lean in for a kiss, but you tilt in the same direction and bump foreheads instead. a nervous laugh escapes you and then you try again, the opposite side this time, and your noses brush awkwardly.
he lifts his hand, a bit hesitant, then he moves it towards your breast, over the pink lace. his palm is warm and you feel his fingers trembling, the contact sending a jolt straight between your legs.
“oh, for fuck’s sake”, you mutter under your breath and then, you slide your hand up to the back of his neck, your fingers threading into his curly hair and then you pull him in.
this time your mouths meet properly, soft at first and then firmer, your lips parting. his glasses bump your cheek and you feel him exhale shakily against your mouth. the kiss deepens, your tongues brushing together and then your other hand moves to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart.
the comments keep coming but they fade into background noise as han’s thumb brushes over your nipple through the thin fabric, drawing a soft sound from your throat. the nervousness is still there, but it’s mixing with something hotter now, something that makes you press closer to him, your thighs parting slightly on the bed.
han’s mouth moves against yours with growing hunger, his tongue sliding in to taste you while his hand stays cupped over your breast. your fingers stay tangled in his curls, tugging every time a spark shoots down your spine.
dirtypup: holy shit they’re actually going for it
artprince69: first time my ass look at them
you moan into his mouth when his other hand finds your waist, pulling you closer to him. without breaking the kiss you move forward, swinging one leg over his lap so you’re straddling him, your knees on either side of his hips. the moment your body settles on top of him, you break the kiss to look at him, his eyes flying wide behind his glasses, his pupils blown, and his lips parted as he stares up at you like he’s forgotten how to breathe. you can see it in his face, he’s completely lost in you and in the feel of your body pressing down on his cock.
you lean in again, capturing his mouth with more urgency this time. your hips roll experimentally, grinding your soaked panties against his cock which makes him groan against your lips. you keep moving, your cunt sliding along his cock through your underwear and every roll of your hips makes his cock throb harder beneath you.
strongspear: she’s riding him already fuck
maknaeontop: look how wet she is
frustration and desire mix in your chest. you stop the kiss again and then reach up, yank his glasses off his face and toss them somewhere behind you without caring where they land or even if they break. the second they’re gone, you crash your mouth back onto his, kissing him messily and nipping at his lower lip. his hands move to grip your hips now, guiding your movements as you grind down harder, his cock pressing right against your entrance.
you can feel how soaked you’re getting, the fabric between you turning slippery, and his boxers are damp too. the pre-cum already leaking through and mixing with your arousal.
he suddenly flips you both, surprising you as his arms lift and turn you until your back hits the mattress and he’s hovering over you, lying between your legs. his curly hair falls forward, brushing your forehead as he looks down at you, breathing hard. his hands slide up your ribs, his fingers hooking under the thin straps of your bra and then he tugs them down slowly, freeing your breasts. cool air hits your nipples before his warm mouth closes over one of them, sucking gently as his tongue flicks it. you arch into him with a soft cry, your hands moving behind your back to unhook your bra and take it off, before you move your hands to the back of his head to hold him there.
he moves to the other nipple, sucking and biting while one of his hands trails down your stomach. his fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear and he drags them down your thighs, peeling the soaked fabric away until you’re completely naked. he tosses them aside as his eyes stay locked on your glistening cunt, he’s completely drunk on the sight of you spread open under him.
he lowers himself between your thighs, his shoulders pushing your legs open wider. his hot breath ghosts over your folds for a second before his tongue drags a long stripe from your entrance to your clit.
“j-jisung!”, you say, a broken moan tearing from your throat at the contact.
he does it again, firmer this time, then he closes his lips around your clit and sucks. two of his fingers slide into your dripping cunt at the same time, curling inside you as he tries to find that spot inside you.
aussielord: eating her out already fuck
user69: she’s so wet it’s dripping down his chin
leethighs: i wish it was my mouth on her
his fingers move inside you while his tongue works tight circles around your clit, your juices coating his fingers and mouth and the sheets beneath you. your thighs tremble on either side of his head and you reach down blindly, your fingers threading back into his curls, holding him exactly where you need him as the pressure builds fast between your legs.
han moans against your cunt like he’s the one being pleasured, his other hand keeping you spread as he devours you. you can only focus on his mouth on you, on his fingers inside you and the way he looks up at you every few seconds with those dark and desperate eyes, like he could stay between your legs forever if you let him.
his tongue presses against your clit while his fingers curl deep inside you and your hips jerk up against his mouth. he moans low and needy against your cunt, the vibration shooting straight through your body and when his lips suck your clit hard and his fingers move faster, your orgasm crashes through you, your back arching off the bed.
“f-fuck, jisung”, you scream, your body shaking as his tongue and fingers keep moving, not letting you rest.
your walls clench around his fingers, your cunt pulsing as you keep coming with a broken scream, your voice cracking on his name as you say it again and again, because it’s the only word you seem to know now. he groans against you like he’s the one coming, his tongue and fingers still moving, not stopping until you’re twitching from overstimulation.
you’re still panting hard when you tug his curls, pulling him up your body as he crawls over you, his mouth shiny with your juices, and you drag him into a messy kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. as you kiss, you feel him humping against your thigh now, his cock completely hard and leaking through his boxers, leaving a wet streak on your skin with every desperate move.
your hand slips between your bodies, hooking into his boxers and yanking them down. his cock springs free, thick and hard, the veins standing out along the shaft and the head leaking more pre-cum than you had thought it was possible. you wrap your fingers around it and move your hand, making him shudder above you, his hips jerking into your fist.
you keep kissing as you move your hand, but when you try to push him so he can lie on the bed and you can take him in your mouth, he stops your movements, his eyes wide and pleading.
“please, y/n”, he breathes against your lips, his voice hoarse, “don’t. i… i need you. just… keep kissing me. please”
you can’t say no to him and those eyes.
you pull him back into another kiss while your hand keeps moving around his cock. your movements grow faster, your thumb swiping over the tip. he moans into your mouth, his hips thrusting into your hand and his tongue sliding against yours like he can’t get enough.
dirtypup: holy shit i wish it was my cock
midnightwolf: stroking my cock so hard right now
cumslut: look at that dick omg
artprince69: he’s gonna paint her body with his cum fuck
“like that… yeah. p-please”, he breaks the kiss just enough to speak, his lips brushing yours with every word.
he kisses you again, his tongue moving desperately against yours now. his cock throbs in your hand and before you realise what’s happening, he comes hard, his cum shooting across your stomach, streaking your thighs and splattering your breasts. he keeps kissing you through it, moaning into your mouth while his hips jerk and his release paints your skin, warm and sticky, but he refuses to pull away from you - not that you really want him to - as his lips stay locked on yours like he needs the contact more than air.
the kiss turns wet and desperate, neither of you willing to pull away to even breathe. when you finally break it, a thin string of spit stretches between you before snapping. you hold his gaze, his pupils blown wide as he looks at you, and then, you drag two fingers through his cum on your body and then you lift them to your mouth without looking away from him.
han’s breath catches hard, his eyes following every movement as you push your fingers between your lips and suck them clean, your tongue swirling around his cum. a broken whimper slips out of him, high and needy.
“fuck… fuck, y/n”, he gasps, his voice cracking.
leethighs: he’s literally shaking
artprince69: that was so hot fuck
maknaeontop: she can lick my cum too
cumslut: look at his face he’s gone
han’s cock twitches against your thigh, already hard again. he moans louder, his hips jerking forward, and he crashes back into your mouth like he can’t survive without it now that he’s had a taste. the kiss turns frantic as his whimpers vibrate straight into you. he sounds completely wrecked, little broken sounds spilling between every slide of lips.
you feel him moving, one of his hands moving between your bodies until the tip of his cock drags through your folds. the blunt pressure against your entrance makes you gasp into the kiss and your thighs spread wider on instinct.
“please”, you whisper against his mouth, your voice showing how desperate you are, “jisung, fuck me. i need you inside me right now”
he whines, as he presses his forehead to yours, and then pushes forward, stretching you open until he sinks all the way in with one slow and trembling thrust. your walls clench around him and you both moan loud enough for all your viewers to hear.
edgequeen: fuck they are so hot
princessonline: i wanna be her so bad
han starts moving, his hips rolling deep and steady at first and then faster as his need overtakes him. every thrust punches a moan out of you that he swallows greedily, kissing you like he’s starving. your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper and closer to you, and he answers with harder snaps of his hips against yours.
“god, you feel so good”, he pants between kisses, “so tight- f-fuck, i can’t stop”
“don’t stop”, you beg him, your voice shaking, “harder- please, ji… jisung, fuck me harder”
he obeys you, pounding into you now. his mouth never leaves yours for more than a second, desperate to keep tasting you while his cock moves in and out of you. you clench around him every time he bottoms out and he whimpers each time, the sound almost pained with how good it feels.
you know people are still commenting and sending money, but neither of you can focus on anything else other than the way your bodies slam together and the endless and messy kisses you share. your hands claw at his back, his curls, anything to keep him closer to you while you beg for more between every thrust.
“i’m right there”, he says, his voice wrecked, “come with me. fuck, y/n, come on my cock”
your orgasm hits first, your walls pulsing hard around him and you let out a broken cry muffled against his mouth. the feeling drags him over the edge too as he buries himself deep and comes with a long and shaking moan. you keep kissing through your orgasms, your tongues sliding together, both of you trembling and gasping into each other’s mouths as the aftershocks roll through you, his cum leaking out of you around his cock.
when your climaxes finally end, both of you are panting, your foreheads pressed together and your chests breathing hard. you blink up at him, still trembling, and brush a damp curl off his forehead.
“you okay?”, you whisper.
he doesn’t answer right away. his eyes are glassy and his pupils blown, locked on your face like he’s drowning in it and then, a low and broken groan leaves his throat.
“i need to taste you again”, he says, his voice almost frantic, “p-please- fuck, i have to-”
before you can even react, he’s sliding down your body, his mouth already open. he pushes your thighs apart with shaky hands and then buries his face between your legs like a man starved. his tongue drags though your folds and rips a scream from your throat. your back arches hard off the bed as he licks deep, sucking at your entrance, then flattening his tongue over your swollen clit.
cumslut: holy fuck i’m fingering myself so hard right now
strongspear: look at his tongue disappearing inside her
user69: i wish i was between them licking both of them
he moans into your cunt, his hands gripping your thighs and pulling you down onto his mouth as he devours you again. you can’t stop your hips from rolling, grinding against his tongue and lips, riding his face while he eats you out like he’ll die without it.
“jisung- oh my god, jisung!”, you cry, your thighs shaking around his head.
he doesn’t slow down, if anything, he gets more desperate, his tongue flicking your clit before moving back inside you, his nose pressed against you as he breathes you in. another orgasm crashes through you then, as you scream his name and your hips jerk against his face, but he doesn’t stop. he keeps licking you through it, sucking your clit and making another wave of pleasure start inside your body as soon as the other finishes.
“i- i can’t- jisung, i need to breathe-”, you gasp, your voice cracking, but he only moans louder and keeps eating you out, his mouth all over you like he’s lost all control.
aussielord: i’m coming watching this fuck
dirtypup: he’s literally drinking her
edgequeen: i’m so wet i’m dripping on my chair
you feel another orgasm building, stronger and deeper. han’s eyes flick up to meet yours, dark and wild, never breaking contact as his tongue works you relentlessly and that’s what pushes you over this time. your whole body locks up and then explodes, a powerful gush sprays from you, soaking his lips and chin. he groans like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted and keeps drinking you down, his tongue lapping at every drop while you writhe and scream.
the orgasm rips through you so hard your vision whites out as your body arches off the bed. your thighs clamp around his head, your hips bucking uncontrollably as you squirt, and still he doesn’t stop, he keeps licking and sucking, moaning into your oversensitive cunt until you’re shaking so much you can barely speak.
“ji- jisung- too much… o-oversensitive”, you finally manage to whimper.
he pulls back, his lips shiny and swollen, as he breaths hard. he presses soft kisses to your inner thighs, then the trembling skin just above your core, while you twitch and gasp through the aftershocks. he moves up your body slowly, his face still glistening with your juices and then he leans in close until his nose almost brushes yours, his breath warm and shaky against your mouth.
“you okay?”, he asks you this time, his voice hoarse from how hard he’d been moaning into you.
you can’t answer him, your brain feels scrambled and your body is still twitching from your orgasms. all you can do is look at him, because now you are the one that’s completely lost in the sight of him - his flushed cheeks, the way his curls stick to his damp forehead and the raw hunger still burning in his eyes.
without a word you reach up, grab the back of his neck and drag him down to kiss him again. you moan against his lips, your arms wrapping tight around his shoulders, trying to pull him closer to you even though there’s no space left between your bodies.
his palms stroke your sides while your hands roam everywhere, everywhere you can reach. every kiss feels heavier, more intimate, like you’re both pouring everything into each other without needing to speak.
midnightwolf: my cock is throbbing so bad right now
cumslut: they look so gone for each other it’s hot as fuck
princessonline: i came twice and i’m still wet
you keep kissing him deeper, your legs tangling with his, as your hands keep exploring every inch of skin that you can reach. then han breaks the kiss and turns his head towards the phone. he reaches over and without saying anything, he taps the screen and ends the livestream, the chat disappearing then. he turns towards you and kisses you again, his lips brushing yours with a tenderness that is new, nothing like the kisses you’ve shared until now, like he’s checking every inch of you is still there and still wants him.
his hand cups your cheek, his thumb stroking gently along your jaw as his mouth moves against yours in unhurried presses.
“you okay?”, he asks you again between kisses.
you nod your head, trying to catch your breath before he kisses you again.
“yeah, i’m okay”, you say as your fingers trace the line of his collarbone, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your palm, “and you?”
he gives a small and shaky laugh and nods his head, “i’m good”
for a long moment you just stay like that, your bodies tangled together and neither of you looking away from each other. your fingers keep moving in lazy patterns over his body while his hands rest on your hips, his thumbs stroking slow circles there.
eventually you break the silence, “do you think we made enough money?”
something flickers across his face, so quick it’s almost hidden. disappointment maybe? it’s gone before you can be sure, replaced by a soft and careful smile.
“i hope so”, he says quietly, “we really need it”
you tilt your head, studying him, “what’s wrong?”
han exhales then, the sound shaky. his gaze drops for a second before he forces it back up to meet yours.
“i just… i know we need the money, i really do, and that’s why we did this but… fuck, i love you, y/n. i’ve loved you for a while now and having you like this today, i… i don’t wanna stop doing this, but i don’t want it to be for a livestream or to get money. i want you, just you. and maybe you don’t want me the same way and that’s okay, i just… i needed to say it because i feel like i’m gonna lose my mind”
the words tumble out faster, spiraling, and you can’t do anything, just lie there as you look at him.
“i mean, i know this started as a stupid idea to get the money and i’m probably ruining everything right now but… this felt real to me and i can’t pretend it didn’t and if you don’t feel the same way, i’ll shut up and we can just-”
you cut him off with a kiss, firm and deep, your hands sliding into his curls to hold him there. he makes a surprised sound against your lips but melts into it almost instantly, his lips parting as your tongues slide together again. when you finally pull back, his eyes are wide and his cheeks are flushed darker than before.
“i love you too”, you say, your voice steady even though your heart is hammering, “and i’ve wanted you for longer than i even let myself admit. so stop spiraling, jisung”
he laughs softly and then surges forward and kisses you again, like he’s trying to pour everything he never said into the press of his mouth against yours. your legs tangle together tighter, your bodies pressing close once more as the kiss turns heated but still soft and tender, exploring what this confession could lead to.
when you break apart this time, breathless and smiling, you murmur against his lips, “this is not exactly the most romantic confession, huh?”
han laughs, the sound warm and shaky against your lips, “yeah… but it’s ours”, he says and then leans in to kiss you once more, already knowing he will never get tired of the feeling of your lips against his.
“but we’re never telling hyunjin and felix how we confessed”
a/n: sweet nerd jisung oh my goddddddd how are we feeling 🥵 and now... it's almost time for our juicy men, our red lights duo, buckle up everyone 😎
the library
likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated 🌟
so, this is where your life had taken you. sprawled across a couch that smelled like minho’s expensive cologne, thighs spread wide, your panties practically destroyed from the shameless buzzing of the vibrator pressed snugly between your legs. he was watching you intently as you tried not to squirm beneath the hungry weight of his gaze… and the worse part?
you weren’t even sure if it was the vibrator or the porn that was killing you more.
because the guy in the very video minho had casually propped up on his massive TV— not moments ago, like this was a normal ass tuesday night— had one of the hottest fucking voices you’d ever heard.
everytime the man on-screen moaned, minho’s thumb nudged the dial on the vibrator remote just a little higher.
and your self-control? pretty much nonexistent at this point.
another low, throaty groan filled the room, echoing from the surround-sound speakers— you could literally hear it crawling up your spine. your hips jolted slightly when the toy between your legs buzzed harder in response, dragging your shaky whimpers into the air with it.
minho smirked, perched comfortably in the leather armchair just across from you, his sharp features practically glowing under the dim light of the room. “that one got you, didn’t it?” his voice was honey-smooth, edged with something slightly mocking, amused at just how shamelessly wrecked you looked right now.
you blinked up at him, lips parted, thighs trembling, and probably looking like some ridiculous, flushed mess. “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you managed to choke out, breath hitching awkwardly between words.
thr slow, deliberate shrug of his shoulders only made your stomach twist tighter. “what? i thought you were enjoying this.”
his voice was maddening. calm, collected. he looked like he was plucked straight from some midnight fantasy— a black hoodie pulled lazily over his toned chest, loose sweats hiding the legs you already knew were sculpted perfectly from earlier make-out sessions.
the worst thing of all? he knew how much power he had over you.
your instinct was to bite out a snarky reply, but your tongue felt heavy in your mouth as another low, drawn out moan echoed from the video. the man— whoever he was— practically growled the filthiest string of words you’d heard all night, husking out a “good girl, take it, yeah… just like that… fuck, baby, you’re so tight.”
minho barely let you process it before he cranked the vibrator up a notch, gleaming in satisfaction when you cried out softly in turn.
“jesus christ, minho—” you gasped, a sharp spike of heat crashing through your core like a tidal wave.
“hmm?” his innocent hum was deceptive as his thumb hovered over the remote again, eyes dark and glittering. “too much?”
it wasn’t. but it was. you honestly didn’t know the difference anymore.
“i- fuck- you’re insane,” you huffed, teeth sinking into your lower lip to stifle the wanton whimper bubbling in your chest.
minho just grinned like the smug bastard he was, the kind of grin that made your pulse stutter in weird places. “cute insults, but i don’t think you really mean them,” he said silkily, reclining even further in his chair. the picture of relaxed confidence.
“admit it,” he added lightly, a teasing undertone threading through his lilting voice. “you like this.”
you whined, throwing your arm over your face to avoid the flush creeping up your cheeks. “i don’t,” you lied terribly through another breathless moan as the stupid toy buzzed against the exact spot that made you want to scream.
“don’t you?” he mused, tilting his head. his dark, hooded eyes dragged leisurely over your exposed body where your tank top had ridden up and your skirt kept inching higher.he crossed one leg over the other, one arm lazily slung over the chair’s edge like this wasn’t phasing him at all— even though you could catch a faint glint of something darker lurking behind his amused smirk.
“you know,” he said thoughtfully, waving toward the screen. “that guy’s pretty good, huh? i mean, i can see how into it you are.”
you opened your mouth to protest, only to lose every ounce of composure the second another moan from the pornstar filled the room— a sharp, needy sound that sent sparks shooting through your thighs as minho turned up the toy again.
your body jerked harder this time. “minho!”
his smirk sharpened. “say what you want, but you sound a lot like him.”
“shut up,” you groaned, refusing to let your brain even go there.
but as much as you wanted to die from the sheer embarrassment of it all, there was something gnawing at you in the back of your mind. something about the way the pornstar’s voice sounded— low, throaty, teasing, with little breathy moans that felt almost… familiar?
no. that wasn’t possible.
…right ??
the thought barely registered before another filthy sound echoed from the speakers— a sharp gasp that bled into a breathy “shitshitshit, that’s so good- fuck, baby, you’re perfect—”
the low hum of pleasure vibrating through you quickly broke the thought. minho eased his leg over his knee, his movements calm, his gaze unwavering. he looked utterly, maddeningly unaffected.
“here,” minho’s voice pulled you back to reality as he reached forward suddenly, grabbing the remote like he was about to dial it even higher. “since he’s getting louder, how about we—”
“i swear to god,” you cut him off breathily, slamm ing your hand on the couch cushion like it’d somehow make him behave. “if you turn that thing up again, i’ll—”
“you’ll what?” he interrupted smoothly, quirking a brow as his thumb hovered dangerously over the button.
the smirk on his lips told you everything you needed to know. you weren’t getting out of this alive without completely wrecking your dignity— and, even worse, it wasn’t like you actually hated it.
before you had a chance to spit out your next attempt at a reply, another set of low, breathy moans filled the room— and dear god, it was driving you insane all over again.
“shit, look at you,” minho muttered suddenly, voice quieter now but tinged with lust as his sharp gaze followed the roll of your hips against the toy. “you’re so sensitive- are you even gonna make it through the whole video?”
you whined outright then, voice fraying under the heat of his stare, thighs involuntarily jolting when the vibrator buzzed harder. “minho, i - i can’t—”
a pause. the click of the remote lowering the setting just slightly. when you glanced up at him through hooded, blurry eyes, his expression had shifted— his smirk was still there, but softer now, his movements slowing like he was savoring your unraveling.
“you’ll be fine,” he murmured, his tone sending shivers racing down your back. “it’s not like i’m asking you to do much.”
your stomach twisted tighter— equal parts heat and frustration and… more heat. you didn’t even know what to focus on anymore; the vibrator’s steady buzz pressed firmly against your core, his lips curling into maddening shapes, or the utterly ridiculous fact that there was still, somehow, something familiar about this fucking video.
at one point, you closed your eyes to try and ground yourself, but the unmistakable growls and whimpers flooding the room made it impossible. everything blurred into mounting tension, and you were down so bad at this point you couldn’t think of anything beyond not melting fully into the couch.
and then the tension snapped.
at first, it was too small a detail to catch. barely a flicker. but it hit you seconds later, a cold rush climbing over your flushed chest and down your spine when your hazy brain finally pieced it together.
“…wait a second.”
minho’s brow shot up at the faint tremble in your voice. “hmm?”
your eyes darted between him and the screen, and suddenly that twitch in minho’s smirk seemed far too deliberate.
“this guy—” you began, twisting toward the screen slightly. your voice faltered as you stared harder at the scene playing out— the way the man’s hands flexed on the woman’s waist, his head tilted low as his groans spilled over. the sharper the angle got, the clearer it became. not completely visible… but just enough.
the same drawling voice that had been haunting you all night filled the air again, his lips dragging over the woman’s neck as the camera tilted just slightly upward. for half a second, you froze. finally noticing the faint sheen of familiar moles dusting over his throat, catching glimmers of his messy hair curling against his jaw.
“oh my fucking god.”
the realization burst out of you louder than it should’ve.
minho’s smirk twisted smug. “something wrong?”
“this—” you stammered, pointing toward the screen like it’d make your brain recalibrate. “that’s- he’s—”
“i mean, he’s kinda hot, no?” minho tilted his head slightly, his tone almost casual as his eyes glinted sharper. “but you already knew that. i bet you’ve been getting off to him all night.”
kill me now.
your stomach churned with a wild mix of embarrassment and adrenaline as the truth crashed into you full-force, not just about the porn, but about minho himself. there was no fucking way he didn’t know what this was or who that was.
and yet, as your chest rose and fell heavily, through all the chaos sizzling in your brain, there was still one crucial question left unanswered.
“wait, do you—” you started, stumbling to find words that fit the insanity clawing through your body. “how do you even know—”
you didn’t finish. you didn’t have to.
the knock at the door answered for you.
it wasn’t loud by any means. two calm, deliberate knocks followed by an unmistakably low, amused voice filtering in:
“min…” a soft pause, a faint tsk before the voice grew playfully curious. “you started without me already, huh?”
the room fell silent.
your stomach hit the floor.
minho, meanwhile, leaned back with the calmest smirk you’d seen all night, one arm lazily swinging off the chair while his free hand flipped the vibrator off with a swift click. “took you long enough to notice,” he muttered, his sharp gaze meeting yours with utmost composure.
“guess i owe you some kind of explanation,” he added lightly, his tongue flicking over the edge of his lip as the front door creaked open.
and for the first time all night, your breath hitched again— not because of the vibrator, or even minho’s teasing grin, but because standing in the entryway, leaning against the doorframe with disheveled hair and faint marks dusting his collarbone…
…was the guy from the video.
i wrote this rather quickly bc i couldn’t get it outta my head for the past few hours so i whipped this up real quick b4 i post my bigger fics ^-^ is based off this little thought an anon had sent me !! (also…. part 2 anyone…??? 👀👀👀)
ⓘ thigh job, face sitting, squirting, penetration, lots of nicknames !!
the lecture hall was always three degrees too cold, filled with the rhythmic clicking of keyboards and the low, steady drone of a professor you’ve stopped listening to twenty minutes ago. pulling the sleeves of your oversized, cream-coloured cardigan down over your knuckles, you buried your face in the soft wool as you let out a tiny, suppressed yawn.
it wasn't like you didn't like the subject — it was actually one of your favourites — mathematical economics. the amalgamation of numbers and abstract concepts usually got the gears turning in your brain, a welcome challenge to stimulate your mind. the professor — a sixty-something man — was also experienced and dedicated, his passion being the very thing that inspired you to work harder. this was precisely why you had fought so hard to get into the top university for your major; you wanted to study at the best institution, under the best faculty.
but as the lecture crossed the one hour mark and the professor delved into the complexities of the lagrange multiplier and constrained profit maximization, your eyelids began to feel heavy. your lashes drooped, fluttering stubbornly as you tried your best to continue scribbling notes that were becoming increasingly illegible.
the reason behind your drowsiness could easily be disguised as a bad morning. the morning could have certainly been better — your alarm hadn't gone off, the rug had somehow made you trip, and you had stubbed your toe against the sharp edge of the door. but those were just excuses. the primary cause of your exhaustion was the fact that you had been awake until 3:00 a.m., sitting in the glow of a ring light and livestreaming while spreading your legs for strangers.
initially, you had no intentions of doing anything of the sort. hell, you were far too shy to even entertain the thought — a camgirl ? but when you started university, you realised soon enough that even though your hard work had earned you a scholarship for tuition; the costs of accommodation, food, and daily expenses were piling up. however you couldn't bring yourself to ask your parents for a single cent more.
that’s when you stumbled across the advertisement — www.lovecamgirl.com. it was practically calling out to you, promising hundreds of dollars in tips in a single day just for streaming yourself. the hook ? you weren't even required to show your face.
you didn't truly believe the 'hundreds of dollars' statement, but you figured even if that amount appeared over a month, you could finally tide over. you might even be able to send some money home to your parents after all they had done for you. you were still mulling it over when you were told that the affordable housing for scholarship students was full, forcing you into a single-share apartment with a much higher rent. the decision was made.
to everyone around you, you were just shy, soft and unassuming. even your small circle of friends saw you as the 'baby' of the group, the one they felt the need to protect because of your quiet nature. to them, you were the girl who lived in cozy, neutral and pastel toned clothes and always sat by the window, the one who answered the professor’s questions with a studious confidence that only surfaced during academic discussions.
they had no idea that while they were out at late-night parties, you were locked in your room, living a secret. you were the girl who blushed when a classmate looked at you for too long, yet you were also the girl who spent her nights in front of a camera, letting out those same shy, giggly sounds for an audience that worshipped the parts of you your cardigan hid.
stifling another yawn, you shifted in your seat as your gaze strayed. just a few rows down, a mop of dark hair moved. han jisung shifted in his chair, his shoulders tensing as he leaned over his laptop, seemingly engrossed in the lecture. you watched him for a heartbeat too long —
yes, you had a big fat crush on han jisung.
but was it really your fault when he was just perfect in every sense of the word ?
he was the definition of an academic weapon, possessing a mind that seemed to move a mile a minute. unlike your quiet, observant approach to academics, jisung was vocal. he was the star of every debate, his voice steady and persuasive as he dismantled complex theories with an effortless grace.
he didn't just ace exams; he set the curve, his name always sitting comfortably at the top of the leaderboard. there was a magnetic sort of brilliance to him, an intensity that made him appear both grounded and entirely out of reach. he moved through the university halls with a casual, easygoing confidence, often surrounded by friends but always looking like he was five steps ahead of everyone else in the room.
you found a strange sort of comfort in the way your names were always linked at the top of the department rankings. it wasn't a bitter rivalry, but rather a healthy, silent competition that kept you both on your toes. while he commanded the room with his speeches, you were the one whose written proofs were whispered about for their elegance and precision. you matched him step for step, grade for grade, your intellectual wavelengths perfectly in sync even if you were too bashful to ever strike up a real conversation about it.
watching him now, it felt unfair that someone so intellectually gifted could also look like he had been sculpted by god. the black cotton of his shirt stretched taut across his broad shoulders, tapering down into a deceptively thin waist. when he leaned forward to type, the movement emphasized the lean muscle of his back and the faint ripple of his pectorals.
even from this distance, you could see the way his biceps flexed against the hem of his sleeves and the subtle veins protruding on his neck as he tilted his head to look at the board. his jawline was sharp, clean, and framed perfectly by the frames of his glasses. it was a mystery how he even found the time to go to the gym after juggling such a demanding course load, but the results were undeniable.
he was a walking contradiction — a top-tier nerd with the body of an athlete — and every time he ran a hand through his soft hair, you felt your heart stutter in your chest.
you wondered if he ever felt the same exhaustion you did, or if his nights were spent as productively as his days.
little did you know, jisung’s body was itching to turn around and take a look at the sweet girl near the window — you — even if just for a second. he was just as aware of you as you were of him. to him, you were the girl who proved herself through every action, whether it was shattering expectations on exams or delivering projects with a meticulous flair that he deeply admired. your quiet nature seemed to comfort everyone around you, while your razor-sharp skills disarmed them in the same minute.
he had taken a liking to you ever since you first approached him in the first semester, your sweet, hesitant voice asking him where the classroom was while you clutched your bag to your chest. that one interaction had been the catalyst; slowly, without even realizing it, he had fallen for you. he found himself looking for you in every crowded room, his heart doing a strange little flip whenever he saw your name next to his on the results sheet.
you were still admiring him, completely zoned out, when the head you were focused on suddenly turned. his eyes, sharp and clear behind his glasses, landed —
directly.
on.
you.
a violent shiver ran down your spine as you instantly snapped your gaze toward the window, your heart hammering against your ribs. the heat in your cheeks was instantaneous — a deep, burning crimson that made you want to bury your face in your cardigan and never come out. you were certain you’d been caught, that your wide-eyed staring had been far too obvious to a boy as observant as jisung.
after a few excruciating seconds of staring at the campus trees, you couldn't help yourself. you stole another short glimpse, half-expecting him to have turned back to his laptop. but he hadn't moved. he was still looking at you, his head tilted slightly to the side, an unreadable expression dancing in his eyes.
gathering every ounce of courage you possessed, you offered him a tiny, hesitant smile — the kind of soft, bashful expression that would redeem you from this embarrassing moment, hopefully. his reaction was immediate. his own lips curled into a reciprocal smile, one that wasn't just polite, but warm and genuine, making his eyes crinkle at the corners.
you quickly looked down at your notes, your vision blurring as you tried to focus on the equations again. the interaction had lasted only a few heartbeats, but it was enough to make your earlier drowsiness vanish, replaced by a buzzing, electric energy.
on the other side of the row, jisung turned back to the front, but his hands were trembling slightly as they hit the keys. that smile. what he wouldn't do to keep you smiling at him —
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
the next week at university was hectic, to say the least. assignment submissions were due in a relentless wave, keeping you tethered to your desk until your eyes burned. it was the final push before the end-of-semester projects were even discussed, the upcoming weeks promised to be even more intense once partners were officially assigned and due dates announced.
you already had a feeling who your partner might be, a silent hope that the department would pair the two top students together, but that was a bridge to cross in the future.
for now, you were just exhausted.
after a gruesome week of toiling hard and finally submitting every last assignment, you reached your apartment late in the evening. having already eaten on campus, you locked the door behind you with a relieved sigh, the click of the deadbolt signaling the end of your public persona for the day. you headed straight toward the bathroom, desperate to wash the remnants of the week off of you.
you enjoyed a long, indulgent bath, feeling your tired muscles finally relax under the steady stream of warm water. the epsom salts seemed to work wonders, drawing the tension from your limbs as you soaked in the quiet stillness of your sanctuary. it had been an entire week since you last streamed, the chaos of university life forcing your secret identity into the shadows, but you planned to go live tonight.
initially, the idea of camming had terrified you — the very thought of putting yourself out there for strangers to see made your stomach churn with a cold, hollow anxiety. you were the girl who avoided eye contact in the hallways, the one who felt exposed if your cardigan slipped too far off your shoulder in public. you had spent your whole life trying to minimize yourself, convinced that the weight of your curves made you stand out in ways that were clumsy rather than beautiful. the transition from that girl to a "camgirl" felt like a leap you weren't sure you could survive.
but as the weeks went by, the fear began to morph into something else — something that felt dangerously like freedom.
there was a strange, intoxicating power in being faceless. behind the lens. you were just a silhouette of honeyed skin and deep, inviting dips. the things that usually made you feel self-conscious in the real world — the way your thighs were heavy and soft, spreading out comfortably when you sat down, or the way your waist seemed to disappear into the generous curve of your hips — were suddenly the very things being worshipped.
you realized that the people on the other side of the screen didn't want you to be the 'ideal' you saw in magazines. they loved your fullness. they praised the plushness of your body, the way your skin yielded under the pressure of your own fingertips, and the soft, rounded lines that your university wardrobe worked so hard to disguise.
for the first time in your life, you started to see your curves not as something to be managed, but as something to be celebrated. the comments weren't just vulgar demands; they were affirmations that transformed your body into a masterpiece of soft, tactile beauty.
it empowered you in a sense. it gave you a quiet confidence that started to bleed into your daily life. when you sat in class and felt the fabric of your jeans stretching over your thighs, you were no longer overly aware. you knew, with a secret, thrumming heat in your chest, that you were the girl thousands of people stayed up for just to catch a glimpse of those very same curves.
stepping out of the bathroom, you dried yourself off and caught your reflection in the steamed-up mirror. you wiped a small circle clear, looking at the soft flush of your skin and the way your damp hair clung to the dip of your lower back. your body felt heavy in the best way possible, anchored and real. you weren't scared anymore. tonight, you were looking forward to the shift — from the girl who hid her body to the girl who owned it.
as you began pulling out the ring light and the familiar, faceless setup, you felt the weight of the assignments and the stressful week finally start to lift. you reached for your favourite outfit — a pair of tight, high-waisted denim shorts that bit just enough into your skin to emphasize the swell of your hips, and a soft, long-sleeved black top that clung to your curves like a second skin.
the main highlight for today, however, were the black lace stockings you donned.
as you pulled the delicate lace up, you watched with a thrum of quiet satisfaction as the elastic tops dug into the plushness of your thighs. the skin spilled over the intricate floral patterns, creating a soft, pillowy overflow that looked almost edible under the warm glow of the ring light. the contrast was striking — the rough blue denim, the sheer black lace, and the pale, smooth expanse of your thighs.
you adjusted the camera angle, ensuring the frame captured the dip of your waist and the way the shorts rode up just enough to showcase the lace biting into your skin. you settled onto the edge of your bed, the fabric of your top stretching across your chest as you leaned back, letting out a small, relieved sigh.
• moonlit_haze is live •
the notification pinged, and within seconds, the room started filling up. the dashboard lit up with a chaotic flurry of comments and tips, the icons dancing in the dark of your room as you settled into your spot. you smiled, shyly waving into the camera while making sure only your body from the neck down was visible.
little did you know, han jisung had just slammed his laptop shut after finishing the last of his economics data entries. his eyes were burning, his shoulders were tight, and he was ready to collapse — until his phone buzzed. the notification lit up his dark room, and his breath hitched. he didn't even hesitate, clicking the link and leaning back in his chair as the image of your thighs, spilling over those lace stockings, filled his screen.
"hi guys, it's been a minute since i've been here, hm ?" your voice was a melodic murmur. you watched the screen as the first few comments popped up:
onlyforher_65 ($50): curvy goddess !!
sam75rover ($40): missed you so much, those thighs are life saving.
kals.forlife ($35): you look so good tonight.
"hi and welcome," you replied softly, your hands coming to rest on your thighs. the lace of your stockings felt intricate under your palms, a grounding sensation as you pulled at your sleeve, revealing the thin black bra strap against your shoulder.
then, your eyes landed on the one comment that always made your heart skip a beat.
j.one_01 ($100): hi sweetheart, you look heavenly in lace.
this was your regular viewer and, you might secretly add, the absolute best one. the others were still sweet and appreciative, but j.one always said the right things that. he had this way of making you feel hotter, sexier, and more in tune with your own body. on the days when you took things further, he was the one who guided you, his words acting like a physical touch that helped you reach heights of pleasure faster than you ever thought possible.
"hi, j.one," you whispered, your voice turning a fraction more intimate as you ignored the rest of the scrolling chat. you shifted your weight, the denim of your shorts pulling tight across your hips as you leaned just a bit closer to the mic. your top slid off one shoulder as your black lace bra came into view. "i was hoping you’d show up tonight. do you really like the lace ?"
han jisung felt his throat go dry. he was sitting in his darkened dorm room, the blue light reflecting off his glasses as he watched the way your fingers dug slightly into the soft give of your thighs, the black lace biting into your skin.
j.one_01 ($100): i love it baby. especially the way it looks against your skin.
fuck — the nicknames from him hit you somewhere below your abdomen, settling down into a warm pit right over your heat. you felt a thrum of heat settle low in your belly at his words, keeping your hands right where they were for a second, fingers splayed over the floral lace.
slowly, you reached for the hem of your black top. with a soft, steady pull, you removed it, tossing it somewhere off-camera. your entire bra and beautiful, curvy chest came into view, the soft light catching the swell of your breasts and the deep curve of your waist.
as you shifted, the ring light caught the delicate ink etched into the soft skin of your side. an elegant lily bloomed across your waist, the petals dark against your pale skin, moving slightly with every breath you took. it was a permanent, beautiful tattoo that felt almost too personal for the hundreds of strangers watching, but it made the view feel all the more intimate.
the comments flowed in faster than you could track:
softspot404 ($60): oh my god... the wait was so worth it.
knightrider24 ($45): look at that silhouette. goddess tier.
dr3am3rb0y ($55): the contrast between the ink and your skin is insane.
you bit your lip, a small, breathless giggle escaping as you looked at the numbers climbing. "do you guys like the view ?" you whispered, your hands sliding up from your lace-clad thighs to rest just beneath your bust, framing the curves that usually stayed hidden under your oversized university sweaters.
on the other side of the screen, han jisung’s breath hitched so hard it actually hurt. he gripped the edge of his desk, his eyes wide behind his glasses as he leaned into the screen. the sight of you — so soft, so beautifully shaped — sent a wave of heat crashing over him.
to him, you were a mystery, a girl who existed only in this moonlit room, but the pull he felt toward you was becoming dangerously intense. he felt a strange, magnetic connection to the way you moved, a sense of familiarity he couldn't quite place, but he was too far gone in the moment to think about anything but the screen.
his heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs as he typed with trembling hands, his mind completely wiped of every thought.
j.one_01 ($150): you’re breathtaking, sweetheart. i can’t take my eyes off you.
you blushed, your head falling down as you murmured a thank you softly, the sound barely audible over the hum of the laptop. your hands came together to play with the intricate lace hem of your stockings, a nervous habit that coincidentally pushed your breasts together, creating a deep, enticing cleavage that made the chat go wild.
"i... i missed you guys," you whispered, the adrenaline of the week's stress finally venting into this secret, heated space.
without another word, you reached for the button of your denim shorts. with a soft rustle, you pushed them down your legs, kicking them aside. now, you were just in your black lace underwear and those stockings that bit so perfectly into your skin. your thick thighs were the undisputed center of the frame, honeyed soft skin against the dark, delicate lace.
the chat was a blur of numbers and exclamations, but one message cut through the noise with a weight that made your breath hitch.
j.one_01: fuck angel — spread those thighs for me ?
the request sent a jolt straight to your core.
how could you not fulfill his request ? slowly, you obeyed, spreading your legs just enough for your thighs to spill over the tops of the stockings in that pillowy, soft way you knew he loved.
on the other side of the screen, jisung felt like he was losing his mind. he wanted nothing more than to reach through the monitor, to feel the warmth of that skin, to bury his face in the soft give of your thighs and just drown in you. you were so soft, so perfectly shaped, and the way you yielded to his words made his heart hammer against his ribs.
"i actually brought something new today," you murmured, your voice trembling with a mix of shy excitement and genuine heat. you reached off-camera and pulled out a thick dildo, the cool weight of the silicone heavy in your palm. "i wanted to try it out... for you."
the 'you' was a secret arrow shot directly at j.one_01, a silent promise meant only for him even if the rest of the chat erupted in a frenzy, selfishly assuming the gift was theirs.
you wanted to see what the sight of it would do to him — what depraved, beautiful things he’d ask you to do. your mind raced with the possibilities. maybe rubbing it up and down with your hands, maybe licking and gagging around the blunt top, or just maybe, stuffing it inside your sopping heat. a sharp ping of a tip snapped you back to the present, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs.
jisung practically jolted in his seat, his cock jumping and getting painfully hard. he felt a possessive surge of adrenaline, his breath hitching as he leaned so close to the screen his glasses nearly fogged. the thought that you were singling him out, even in a room full of strangers, made his blood roar in his ears. he gripped the edge of his desk until his knuckles turned white, his mind completely consumed by the sight of your soft, small hands wrapped around that thick toy.
j.one_01 ($200): show me how it fits between those thighs, sweetheart. give it a thigh job. i want to see the lace rubbing against it while you squeeze.
your face went hot, a deep, blooming flush spreading down your chest. you should have seen this coming; his obsession with your lower half was a borderline religion. he was utterly fixated on the way your skin yielded, always worshipping the thick, pillowy expanse of your legs as if they were his personal sanctuary. to him, your thighs weren't just a feature — they were a trap he wanted to be caught in, and knowing he wanted to see them suffocate that toy made your head spin with a heavy thrill.
you intended to give him exactly what he wanted.
you settled back, bracing yourself on your elbows, and positioned the toy right in the dip where your thighs met, the black lace framing the scene like a dark, erotic portrait. as the silicone sat snug between your legs, you felt the cool girth of it pressing against your heat. you began to squeeze your legs together, the toy nearly disappearing into the soft, plush curves of your skin as you moved it back and forth. your hands reached down, kneading the parts of your own thighs that couldn't cover the toy, the friction of the lace against the silicone creating a rhythmic, wet sound that filled your quiet room.
jisung knew you were an angel — that's why he called you one — but this ? you were heaven-sent, doing exactly what he wanted and clearly finding your own pleasure in the pressure. he watched the way your skin overflowed over the lace, the way you squeezed until your muscles trembled, and he wanted nothing more than to be the one held there, to be the one suffocated by the warmth of you.
"is this... what you wanted ?" you breathed out, your eyes squeezed shut as the friction against your own skin started to push you toward that familiar, hazy edge. you could feel your mind drift to the ace student you harbored a secret crush on, imagining his hands where the toy was, his focused, sharp gaze replaced by the glowing text on your screen.
on the other side of the screen, jisung was a mess. his vision blurred, his chest heaving in a ragged rhythm as he watched your hips stutter. he was too far gone, one hand wrapped tightly around his hard cock, stroking it with a desperate, heavy friction that matched the pace of your thighs. his other hand's fingers flew across the keys.
j.one_01 ($200): spit on it, angel. get it messy.
you swore you could feel yourself drip onto the mattress, your lace panties sticking to your swollen, puffy pussy lips. the sheer filthiness of the request made your head spin. you slowly leaned over, letting a thick drop of spit fall onto the head of the toy, watching it glisten under the ring light before you spread the slickness over the length with your hands.
jisung's mind was completely hijacked by the sight of you getting messy just because he asked. and when you started whimpering — it was the end for him. his pace increased, precum dripping around his shaft giving the much needed lubrication. the schlick sounds echoed in his ears as he watched the dildo disappear between your spit covered thighs, the squelches soothing the itch in his brain.
your eyes were glassy, your breath coming in broken, desperate hitches as you increased your speed, your thighs grinding together with an intensity that made the lace groan. soft, needy whimpers began to escape you as the silicone rubbed against your clit through your panties. the drenched fabric of your underwear provided the perfect, searing amount of friction, making every slide of the toy feel raw and uninhibited.
in the haze of the friction, your mind traitorously drifted to the library — to the way jisung’s glasses would slide down his nose when he was focused, or the way his blunt fingers tapped against his textbook. a part of you wondered if he ever felt a hunger like this, or if he would look at you with that same quiet intensity if he ever saw the way your thighs were currently suffocating the toy.
"is... is this good?" you whimpered, your head tossing back and exposing the vulnerable line of your throat. "y-you like — mmmmm — like this? j.one — fuck — tell me... nghhh... i'm being a good girl, right ? it’s so wet..." you whined, "please, look at me... look what you're making me do..."
your whimpers sent jisung's brain reeling as he increased his pace, assisting you alongside.
j.one_01 ($250): fuck, yes. keep making those sounds, angel. i’m right there with you. squeeze it until you break — cum for me, angel.
the command snapped you back, shattering the last of your restraint. your back arched off the mattress, a loud, broken moan tearing from your throat as your core began to pulse in heavy, rhythmic waves. you squeezed your thighs together one last time, suffocating the toy between your curves as you finally broke, your mind white with the force of the orgasm.
jisung let out a low, guttural growl, his own body jerking as he finally followed you over the cliff. he came hard, his hand trembling as he watched you go limp on the screen, your chest heaving and your skin slick with sweat and spit. he slumped back in his chair, staring at the sight of his 'angel' finally quiet and spent.
you stayed like that for a long moment, your chest heaving in the quiet room as the cooling sweat made the lace of your stockings feel heavy against your skin. the 'live' indicator was still pulsing red, a reminder that thousands had just witnessed your undoing, but to you, the room felt empty of everyone but the ghost of his presence. the hundreds of other usernames and their repetitive praise had blurred into a gray fog — for you, the only thing that had been real was the weight of j.one_01's words and the way they had forced your body to break.
you reached out with a trembling hand, your fingers hovering over the trackpad. you stole one last glance at his name at the top of the donor list, a small, shy smile tugging at your lips that he couldn't see. your mind flickered back to han for a split second — imagining him sitting in a quiet room somewhere, perhaps just as breathless as you were — before you shook the thought away.
"i'm... i'm going now," you whispered, your voice thick and honey-slow from the afterglow. "thank you for being here tonight. especially you, j.one."
with a final, soft click, the red light died. the screen went black, leaving you alone in the dim glow of your desk lamp. the silence of the room rushed back in, heavy and thick, as you sat there in your black lace and damp underwear, the phantom heat of the stream still humming under your skin. you took a shaky breath, finally letting your muscles relax into the mattress, wondering if the boy in the lecture hall would notice the subtle glow in your eyes when you saw him tomorrow.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
the week that followed was a blur of high-stakes pressure and library lights. with the semester-end projects looming, the university was a pressure cooker of stress. the professor's voice droned on about the final weighting of the semester projects, and then, the announcement hit the air.
"for the final research analysis, i've paired the top two performers. han jisung and..."
your heart skipped when you heard your name alongside his. you turned your head just enough to see him — the department’s golden boy. he was currently leaning back in his seat, his expression unreadable as he caught your eye. to you, he was the untouchable genius of the class.
on the other side of the row, jisung felt a strange jolt of electricity. he had been watching you all semester, admiring the way you solved complex models with ease. to him, you were the perfect, composed topper — the one girl who actually challenged his intellect.
the walk to the library was filled with a thick, awkward silence. the late afternoon sun hit the campus, casting long shadows as you walked side-by-side, careful to keep a respectful distance.
"i have the preliminary data on the drive," jisung said, his voice a low, steady rasp that sent a shiver down your spine. "we can start with the variable adjustments."
"sounds good," you murmured, pulling your oversized cardigan tighter around you. "i’ve already looked into the qualitative side."
you settled into a secluded mahogany table in the very back of the library, the air smelling of old paper and dust. for two hours, the only sound was the clicking of keys and the occasional rustle of pages.
"if we adjust the variable here —" jisung started, his voice low and gravelly from lack of sleep. he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his eyes fixed on the laptop screen.
you nodded, reaching for your notes. "then the projected growth should stabilize... right ?"
your voice was small, and for a split second, jisung’s eyes flickered to yours. he lingered there just a heartbeat too long, a strange, unreadable shadow crossing his face before he looked back down, nodding in agreement.
"okay, i'll highlight it for later reference" you said.
as you reached across the table to grab a highlighter, your favorite pen rolled off the slick mahogany surface, clattering to the floor. "oh, sorry —"
you both moved at once. you leaned down, reaching for the pen near the leg of his chair. just as you bent over, your oversized cardigan caught on the armrest of your seat, riding up your side.
it only happened for a second.
the fabric stayed caught, exposing the soft, pale curve of your waist. and there, stark and undeniable under the harsh library lights, was the small, elegant ink of a lily. the dark petals seemed to bloom right before his eyes, exactly where the ring light had caught them just nights ago.
jisung’s hand froze inches from the pen. his entire body went rigid, his breath hitching in a way that had nothing to do with the heavy air. he stared at the tattoo, the image of his "angel" screaming in the back of his mind. the way the ink sat on your skin, the specific, delicate curve of the petals — it was a perfect, terrifying match to the girl who had spit on a toy because he’d asked her to.
the academic silence was replaced by a sudden, deafening roar in his ears.
he didn't want to believe it.
he couldn't.
or maybe he had somehow dreamt of it.
but the evidence was etched into your skin.
slowly, he retracted his hand, his gaze traveling up from the lily to your face. his pupils were blown wide behind his glasses, his heart hammering against his ribs with a violence that made his chest ache.
"is... is something wrong, han ?" you whispered, noticing his sudden trance. you quickly pulled your cardigan back down, your face heating up as you realized you’d shown skin. "did you... find it ?"
jisung didn't move. he just looked at you, his mind a chaotic blur of library books and black lace, of silent study sessions and the sound of your whimpers through his headphones.
"that tattoo," he began, his voice dropping into that low, private register that made your stomach flip. "it’s a lily... isn't it ?"
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
"that tattoo — it’s a lily... isn't it ?"
you snapped upright, sitting back into your chair as your heart hammered against your ribcage.
shit.
shit.
he wasn't meant to see it.
hell, nobody was.
you liked keeping some things to yourself and that tattoo was one of them. you had gotten it inked when you finally got selected for the university — years of hard work finally paying off. and mind it, you were thorough with your research in this case as well. you weren't the type to just pick something off a flash sheet on a whim. you had looked through various designs for weeks, but you gave more weight to their symbolism and meanings than the aesthetics alone. then, you had come across pink lilies. according to several websites — and more importantly, your neighbour's florist dad — they represent femininity, happiness and finally, compassion.
that's what you felt.
compassion.
towards yourself.
compassion towards yourself for working on your dreams, for always trying your best even when it was hard, for crying through some days but still getting back up stronger, for doing it whether you were happy or sad, for being you, forever. it was a permanent reminder of the girl who survived the pressure, the one who bloomed in the dark.
nobody in your life knew about the tattoo — not even your parents or your closest friends. neither did you give them any opportunity to, always clad in clothes showing little to no skin of your waist — not just to hide the ink, but also because you were more comfortable that way. you preferred the safety of oversized cardigans, baggy t shirts and high-waisted jeans, keeping your secrets tucked beneath layers. that's why you were so stunned when you realised that not only had he seen it, but he had managed to observe exactly which flower it was in the microsecond that it was visible.
how could he be that observant ? his eyes were supposed to be on the economic growth charts, not on the sliver of skin above your hip.
all of a sudden, you realised that your walk down memory lane had lasted quite a few minutes, leaving jisung's question unanswered while you stared blankly at your notebook.
you managed to stutter a response, "o-oh yes, i uh i love lilies. they’re... special to me."
jisung nodded in acknowledgement, turning his gaze back to the book in front of him. you heaved an internal sigh of relief to find him not questioning you and seemingly unbothered.
unbothered ?
han jisung ?
right now ?
unbothered when he had just discovered that the very person he had been pining after ever since he started university might just be the same as the angel on his screen he was obsessed with ? his mind was a whirlwind behind that calm masked expression. he could still see the way the petals of the lily curved against your waist and oh god — it was the exact same way they had shifted on his monitor when you had arched your back for him yesterday.
unbothered when he finally realised why the shy giggles through his headphones felt so familiar, having heard your melodious giggles in class, his ears craving the sound forever ? every time you had laughed at a professor's joke, he had felt a pull in his chest he couldn't explain. now he knew why. the girl he respected in the light was the same one who broke for him in the dark.
unbothered when it finally hit him that deep down, he was a goner, but only for you — in any way you wished ? he wasn't sure it was just a crush anymore. he was craving your presence, your voice, you. the revelation sat heavy in his chest, his heart hammering so hard he was sure you could hear it through the mahogany table.
he wasn't unbothered. he was barely holding himself back from closing his textbook and asking you exactly how messy you had gotten for him last night. his patience was hanging by a thread while he watched you working on the project, completely oblivious.
the two of you finished the study session in silence, the hours ticking by until you both finally headed home. you were sleeping peacefully, albeit after an hour of overthinking about him catching a glimpse of your tattoo and what it meant. however, jisung stayed up fighting for his life, trying to comprehend the reality of it all — was he going insane ? the girl of his dreams and the girl on his screen was the same all along, and he was officially a goner.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
another busy week at the university had finally come to an end, but it had left you feeling particularly hot and bothered. the cause being the increased proximity with the man of your dreams — the sheer number of hours you spent together working on the project. it did not help that your last meeting with him had ended with his eyes on your waist and no words on your lips.
finally the weekend rolled around and you found yourself setting up for your livestream. the camera was angled, the ring light in place, the rest of the room doused in moonlight entering through the windows. you leaned back, checking the frame one last time. today's outfit was the perfect balance of cozy and teasing.
the grey and white striped top looked deceptively casual, the long sleeves giving off a soft, homey vibe, but the fabric hugged your curves in a way that was anything but accidental. then there was the black mini skirt — short, bouncy, and the ruffles added a playful flare, sitting high on your hips.
but the real star of the show ? the thick white stockings.
they squeezed your thighs just right, creating that perfect soft dip in the skin where the fabric ended and your legs began. the extra thickness of the knit made them look plush and soft, a stark contrast against the dark ruffles of the skirt. they highlighted the soft curve of your legs, making them look pillowy and inviting, the kind of texture that begged for a lingering touch.
it was the kind of look that said you weren't trying too hard, yet every detail was designed to keep eyes glued to the screen. this outfit — a new one — was one of your favourites, and you would be lying if you said you weren't excited to see everybody's reactions.
everybody. right.
not just the one username that makes your eyes light up.
definitely not.
shaking your head to rid yourself of the thoughts, you clicked on the button and started the live stream with bated breath.
• moonlit_haze is live •
when the notification popped up on his screen, jisung was about to click it — call it instinct. but then his mind drifted to the newly acquired knowledge that the girl behind the screen was you. you never showed much skin; even the slight exposure in the library, when your cardigan had ridden up, had left you flustered. he would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the view of you covered in a pink tint — you looked too adorable. however, his mind couldn't skim past the fact that you clearly valued your privacy — would his watching the stream make you uncomfortable ? was he betraying your trust in a way ?
jisung was still contemplating — his brain muddled with the dilemma when he gets another notification.
• moonlit_haze invites you to the livestream •
you had sent him a special invite —
were you wondering where he was ?
were you waiting for him ?
where you — dare he say — missing him ?
oh how could he say no to you.
jisung's fingers reacted before he could, reaching out to click and accept the invite. his screen changed and there you were — in all your glory.
• j.one_01 has accepted your invite •
finally.
you had noticed he was online, that tiny green dot flickering next to his name, yet he hadn't joined. usually, he was the first one there, but today he was just... lingering. you waited. one minute. two. you had dolled up specifically for him — every ruffle and every inch of those stockings was for his eyes only.
was he really not going to join ?
was he not going to give you the reaction you were so clearly craving ?
at last, the restlessness had won, and you ended up inviting him instead. in hindsight, did it come off as too desperate ? were you being too obvious ? well, that was a worry for later — because he was finally here.
"you're late, j.one. i was waiting to hear about what you thought of my outfit today."
the words left your lips with a playful tilt, your voice dropping into that soft, melodic tone you reserved just for the camera — and for him. you leaned back, letting the chair creak slightly as you adjusted your position, making sure the moonlight hit the ruffles of your skirt just right. you weren't even looking at the chat yet, but you could feel the weight of his presence the second his name appeared on the screen.
you were teasing him, and you knew it. the silence on his end only made you bolder — you wanted to hear him say it. you wanted to know if the view of your thighs in those thick white stockings was doing exactly what you intended it to do.
jisung groaned.
he could practically hear the pout in your voice.
oh he didn't want to make you sad — when had he ever intended that ?
and your outfit ?
oh he would give you a reaction alright.
j.one_01 ($100): i'm sorry angel, i had to get my glasses. also this outfit looks fucking ethereal on you — might just be my favourite.
his eyes were fixed on the screen, heart hammering against his ribs at the sight of you. he was staring. he couldn't help it. the top looked so soft against your waist and the skirt accentuated your beautiful curvy hips. but oh god —
the thighs.
the beautiful fucking thighs.
clad in the soft white knit, you literally looked like the definition of an angel, his nickname for you coming to life. the soft knit of your stockings dug into your plush skin, your soft thighs nearly spilling out of them. the way they squeezed your thighs was just enough to make his breath hitch. he had been trying to be good, trying to keep his distance, but one look at you and all those noble intentions were out the window. he was yours, and by the way you were looking into the lens, you knew it.
as you read his comment, your heart skipped.
oh, he wore glasses.
immediately, your thoughts traitorously drifted back to the library — to the man who sat beside you with those beautiful silver frames perched on the bridge of his nose. he had such a gorgeous face, eyes so deep and captivating — of course, they deserved to be framed like a piece of art.
one thought led to another, and suddenly, your mind was entirely consumed by han jisung.
it was the way he carried himself — that effortless blend of sharp intellect and genuine passion. he was the type of person who excelled at everything he touched, yet he remained grounded, his politeness and respect never wavering. he listened to you with a focus that made you feel like the only person in the room, his brilliance only matched by his humility.
and then there was his smile. those beautiful, plush lips curving just right, sending your heart racing a mile a minute.
and what to say about his body —
those biceps.
every ounce of your principles seemed to evaporate the moment you pictured them — you were ready to do anything just to be caged in his arms. then there were the pecs, the sharp line of his jaw, and those neck veins that stood out when he was concentrated — it was such a lethal combination. he was a masterpiece of a man, and the more you thought about him, the harder it was to remember you were supposed to be looking at a camera.
all of a sudden, your attention snapped back to the room — the glow of the ring light and the hum of the camera bringing you back to reality.
shaking off the image of jisung’s lips, you pretended nothing had happened. since the camera was angled strictly from the neck down, the chat couldn't see the crimson flush creeping up your face, but they could see the way your chest rose and fell with every uneven breath. you refocused on the screen, reading the flurry of incoming comments.
onlyforher_65 ($50): babe did you zone out —
sam75rover ($40): she's sighing so softly omg
softspot404 ($45): those are sighs of yearning, i can feel it
the chat was moving fast, a blur of texts and tips. they were picking up on every little sound, every hitched breath. you cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure, but it was hard to stay grounded when your mind was still half-lost in the library, tracing the lines of a man who was now watching you from the other side of a screen.
"sorry guys, i just... um... lost myself for a moment."
your voice was breathy, trembling slightly as it filtered through the mic. since they couldn't see your face, every tiny sound was magnified—every hitched breath, every soft swallow, every restless shift of your weight. the way the ruffles of your skirt rustled against your stockings was the only thing filling the silence.
the chat exploded.
gooninghard12 ($40): your voice is hitching T-T
dr3am3rb0y ($45): she's definitely blushing
kals.forlife ($40): do you have a crushhhhh ~
"hm maybe i do —"
the words were barely a whisper, a soft, shy giggle escaping your lips as you spoke them into the mic. you reached down, your fingers nervously tracing the hem of your black skirt, pulling at the ruffles as if that could ground you. but the damage was done.
the chat went absolutely feral, the text scrolling so fast it became a blur of white and neon. they couldn't see your eyes, but they could see the way you fidgeted. they saw your thighs press together, the white knit of your stockings straining against the movement. they heard the catch in your throat.
you were practically radiating a soft, nervous energy, your body language betraying the secret you hadn't even fully admitted to yourself. you were a mess — a pretty, ruffled, pink-tinted mess — and all because of a man who was staring at his screen right now, unknown to you, wondering who was that breathy confession for.
jisung didn't feel jealous.
or at least, he didn't think he did.
he had never really known the emotion — why would he ? he was a man who excelled at everything he touched, and if he ever lacked in a skill, he worked until he mastered it.
but this ? this burning sensation in his chest was something he couldn't just study and overcome.
the idea of you yearning for someone who wasn't him — someone who didn't see the way your eyes lit up in the library or how your cardigan slid off your shoulder — made him feel a way that was entirely illogical. it was a sharp, jagged heat that he couldn't handle. his grip tightened on his desk, his knuckles turning white as he watched the way your soft thighs pressed together on the screen.
who was he ? who was the one making you sigh like that ?
before he knew it, his hands flew over the keyboard, typing and pressing enter.
j.one_01 ($80): who is the person, angel ?
a flurry of comments appeared on the screen, a chaotic scroll of curiosity, but your eyes were instantly hooked onto his username. the bold text sat there like a demand, and you didn't know what to do with it. you forced your gaze to move away from his comment, heart thudding against your ribs as you tried to focus on the others.
onlyforher_65 ($50): WHO IS THE LUCKY GUY ?!
dr3am3rb0y ($45): tell us tell us TELL US PLS
kals.forlife ($40): I KNEW IT !
you smiled again, finding everyone’s enthusiasm amusing, to say the least. it was a heady feeling — being the center of all that frantic curiosity. besides, this was your safe space. no one here knew the girl behind the camera, the quiet student who spent her hours buried in books.
right ?
you felt a sudden, reckless surge of confidence. if you couldn't say it to his face in the library, you could at least whisper it to the shadows of the internet, might as well get it off your chest.
leaning closer to the mic, you let your fingers wander to the hem of your skirt, nervously twisting the fabric. the camera captured the way your thighs tensed, the white stockings stretching over your skin.
"well..." you started, your voice dropping into a low, confiding tone that sent the chat into another frenzy. "he's... he's my classmate in university and... he’s brilliant. the kind of person who makes you feel like you're learning something new just by being near him. and he has this way of looking at things — so focused, so intense, so... passionate."
you paused, biting your lip as the image of silver frames and plush lips flashed in your mind. "and he is kind... kind and gentle," you whispered, almost to yourself. "so gentle yet grounding, like being in his vicinity makes you feel... lighter."
across the screen, jisung felt the air leave his lungs. his grip on the desk loosened, his heart stuttering at the sheer tenderness in your tone. he had expected you to talk about someone flashy, someone loud — but the way you spoke of this man, with such soft reverence, made the burning in his chest shift into something deeper, something far more dangerous. he found himself wishing — with a desperation that terrified him — that he could be that man for you.
hell, he'd be anyone you wanted him to be.
your details warranted another inflow of comments, and you browsed through them with a gentle smile, mind already in a better headspace just thinking about him.
dr3am3rb0y ($45): HE SOUNDS JUST LIKE YOUR TYPE
gooninghard12 ($40): what does he look likeeee
softspot404 ($45): IS HE HOT BABE
you giggled, feeling giddy, the sound bubbling up from your chest. you shifted in your seat, the soft white knit of your stockings rubbing together with a quiet, shushing sound that the mic caught perfectly.
"is he hot ?" you repeated the question, your voice trailing off into a dreamy sigh. " is the moon pretty ? is the earth revolving ?" you let out a soft, airy breath, the sound vibrating through the mic. "he’s... gorgeous — too ethereal, i swear to god — but it’s more than that. he has this sharp jawline and the most beautiful eyes — the kind you can gladly drown into. his hands — christ — they're decorated with the most perfect veins and they... they look like they would be so careful, but also so soooooo strong."
you traced a finger over your own wrist, imagining his touch. "and when he wears his glasses... the silver frames just make him look so sophisticated yet all my brain can think about is jumping his bones. honestly he's so much more than a crush, he's just the man of my dreams."
behind his screen, jisung felt a jolt of electricity shoot down his spine. his hand instinctively went to the bridge of his nose, fingers brushing the cool, polished metal of his own glasses. his heart was hammering so loudly he could hear it in his ears, a frantic thudding that made his vision swim.
it was a coincidence.
it had to be.
silver frames were common.
and plenty of people were brilliant.
he was held captive by your voice, waiting for the next detail to either shatter his hope or change his life forever. desperate and reckless, he needed to know if the man of your dreams was the one currently losing his mind over the way you spoke of him as your soft thighs spilled out of those white stockings.
then, your words fell into his ears, and they made the very air leave his lungs. the rest of the world ceased to exist — the glow of his monitors, the hum of the room — it all faded into a blur as his mind replayed your whisper.
"and he has this perfect choco chip mole on his right cheek that just adds to all of his beauty."
his hand instinctively reached out, his fingertips ghosting over the small mark on his right cheek. a jolt of electricity, sharper than any before, surged through him.
was it really him ?
did you really mean all of that for him ?
despite these signs pointing towards him, he just needed a final final confirmation, the logic-driven part of his brain struggled to comprehend it.
the girl he has been pining over wants him back ?
the girl of his dreams wants him back ?
he needed a final, undeniable confirmation.
with his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs, he pulled his phone from the desk. his fingers — usually so steady — trembled slightly as he typed out a message. he asked you to meet in his dorm for the project next week instead of the library, claiming he was only free in the evening and the library would be closed by then.
it was a flimsy excuse, a test, a lure.
and then, in real time, he saw your phone screen light up on the stream the exact second he hit send.
you glanced down, and a soft, amused laugh escaping you — a sound so intimate it made his breath hitch. "the person we were just talking about... he literally just texted me right now," you murmured into the mic, your voice laced with a sweet, disbelieving giddiness.
jesus fucking christ.
it was him.
it felt like you were reaching through the screen and stripping him bare in front of thousands while he sat in the dark, frozen. the intellect he was so proud of, the iron-clad composure he worked so hard to maintain — it all evaporated in an instant. he wasn't just watching a confession — he was witnessing his own undoing. you weren't pining for a stranger — you were pining for him, and as the stream continued, han jisung was utterly unraveling at the weight of your words.
you leaned back in your chair, the soft ruffles of your skirt settling as you let out a long, shaky exhale. the thrill of the confession was still humming under your skin, but the weight of that text message was pulling you back to reality.
"okay, that’s enough heart-to-hearts for one night," you said, your voice returning to a more natural, though still slightly playful, tone.
you smoothed the white knit of your stockings one last time, a small smile tugging at your lips as you looked at the camera lens. "i’ve got a project to... prepare for. thanks for hanging out with me, everyone."
the chat flooded with "goodnights" and "good lucks," the screen a chaotic blur of support. you gave a small, shy wave before reaching out and clicking the button to disconnect.
the monitors dimmed, and the familiar silence of your room rushed back in. you sat there for a moment in the dark, the only light coming from your phone screen. you picked it up, your thumb hovering over jisung's message, replying with a "sounds good !" before finally heading to bed, unaware that on the other side of the screen, his world had just shifted forever.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
holy mother of god.
why was he coming this way ?
you were sitting in class awaiting the professor when you saw jisung enter the lecture hall. up until this point, everything was normal. however, he walked right past his usual seat and started walking in what was undeniably your direction. before your brain could fully process the shift, jisung was standing directly in front of you with that lovely smile, his silver frames on his head, used to hold his hair back today. god — even his forehead was sexy.
"hey ! i was wondering if i could sit here ?"
his voice was a low hum that vibrated through the wooden desk and into your bones. you blinked, your heart performing a frantic tap-dance against your ribs. you had already met up with him several times to work on this project, but it had always been in the controlled environment of the library. there, the sessions were a maximum of two hours, and the silence was your shield.
the lectures, however, lasted for around four hours. the worst part was that you couldn't stay entirely engrossed in your notebook like you did during study sessions. you had to look up, understand the professor, and interact, and you were silently praying to god to keep your sanity intact while he sat right next to you for the entire duration.
"uh — yeah. yeah, sure," you managed to stammer, desperately hoping your voice didn't crack.
as he slid into the seat next to yours, the heat radiating from his shoulder felt like a physical blow. you stared straight ahead, but how could you evade the piece of art sitting right beside you, catching your attention from your peripheral vision.
"thanks," he murmured, leaning in as his broad shoulder brushed against yours.
unbeknownst to you, jisung was just trying to be more friendly, hoping to become friends and maybe gradually ask you out. up until now, he had always maintained a respectful boundary, careful not to intrude on your space or make you uncomfortable.
he had mistaken your shy silence for a need for professional distance, so he kept his interactions strictly about the project, never daring to push past that invisible wall. he had no idea that every time he backed off to give you room, your heart was actually screaming for him to come closer.
the four hours of the lecture were a slow-burn torture for you. it was a constant battle for survival — every time he shifted in the cramped seat, the heat of his shoulder against yours made your patience thinner and your resolve crumble. you spent the entire time staring at the chalkboard, but your mind was stuck on the physical heat of his presence, counting down the minutes until you could finally breathe again.
for jisung, the experience was even worse.
even though you were wearing baggy jeans, the proximity was lethal. every time his leg brushed against yours, he could feel the radiating warmth of your thigh through the denim, making his throat go dry as his mind wandered to the softness hidden beneath the fabric. he had to grip his pen with white-knuckled intensity just to stay focused on the professor while being so agonizingly close to you.
by the time the professor dismissed the class, you both packed up in a blur of polite smiles and lingering glances. the day bled into evening, the anticipation of the meeting hanging over you.
as the sun finally dipped below the horizon, your phone buzzed on your desk, the screen illuminating the dark room.
jisung [5:55 pm]: hey, my dorm is in building b. room 312.
jisung [5:56 pm]: see you soon.
replying with an "okay!", you started getting ready to leave for his dorm. the gears in your brain were already turning at the idea of being in his personal space. you didn't want to pass up this opportunity just because you were too shy to make a move — you needed to try, for your own sake.
he had practically sat beside you the entire day and talked so sweetly, with the softest of touches. you couldn't help but want to dress up for him, moving away from your regular soft, baggy clothes.
you walked over to your wardrobe, and right in front of you was the outfit you had worn for the last live stream: the grey top, the black skirt, and finally, the soft white knit stockings.
wouldn't it be particularly romantic to wear the same outfit you had on when you confessed your crush, even if it hadn't been directly to him ?
plus, it was just going to be him.
he had already mentioned asking his roommate to leave so you could both study in peace, likely sensing you were shy and would be apprehensive around new people. mustering every bit of courage you had left, you finally decided on the outfit, letting the romantic irony of the choice settle the butterflies in your stomach.
you put on your outfit, styling your hair in a half-up, half-down look with a claw clip. after grabbing your tote bag, you realized the outfit was a bit too risky for a solo walk, so you decided to take a taxi.
upon reaching the building, you took the lift up to the third floor and moved towards apartment 312. you could hear the muffled sounds of guys laughing inside — presumably they were his roommates or friends — before you finally rang the bell. you checked your phone — 6:15 pm. you were exactly on time.
good gracious —
jisung opened the door, and if you thought he looked handsome in class, he looked perfectly delectable right now. he was clad in a soft grey long-sleeved t-shirt and black baggy sweatpants, his hair slightly ruffled and those silver frames in their designated place on the bridge of his nose. you could practically feel the saliva pooling in your mouth.
was that an angel ?
was that his angel ?
this was the only thing running through jisung's mind the second his eyes landed on you. you were wearing the exact same outfit from your last livestream, and he felt like he was about to have a stroke. the screen and camera did no justice to the way your curves were enhanced by that skirt.
and then, the absolute cause of his demise.
those thighs.
they were clad in the soft white knit stockings, with a sliver of honeyed skin visible where the fabric ended. he had to physically dig his nails into his palms to keep from reaching out to touch the soft curve of your waist or those plush thighs pressing together.
"hey, you're here," he managed to say, though his voice sounded raspier than usual.
you whispered a "hey" as jisung ushered you inside, his hand reaching out to instinctively take your tote bag from your shoulder. he murmured something about his friends just heading out, but your heart was already beating too fast for you to fully process his words.
as you stepped into the warmth of the dorm, you offered a shy greeting to the two guys standing in the common area. they were already grabbing their jackets, their eyes flickering between you and jisung with poorly hidden amusement. they didn't linger — after a few quick nods and greetings in your direction, they moved toward the hallway.
just as they reached the threshold, one of them tossed a wave back over his shoulder.
"bye j.one, see you tomorrow."
the door clicked shut, the lock engaging with a heavy thud that seemed to echo through the sudden silence of the room.
the air in the small apartment shifted instantly. you stood frozen, the name echoing in your mind like a physical blow.
han jisung.
j.one.
'j' for jisung and... han is 'one' in korean.
j.one.
your brain scrambled to put the pieces together.
the username of the man who had dominated your chat, the one who had dropped a thousand dollars just to hear you speak his name. you slowly turned to look at him, your pulse skyrocketing.
it wasn't a coincidence. it was him.
the man of your dreams was standing right in front of you, and he had heard every single word of your confession.
"you're... you're j.one" you breathed out, the words barely a whisper as you took in the sight of him.
jisung stood there, still holding your bag, his posture stiffening as the silence stretched between you. he knew the mask had slipped the moment his friend used that name.
as your mind processed the influx of information, it finally dawned upon you. "that's why you — you were shocked when you saw the... the tattoo" you breathed, the reality of it settling heavily in the room.
he didn't try to deny it. instead, his grip tightened slightly on the straps of your bag, and he let out a slow, shaky breath.
"that was the day i found out — and i... i couldn't believe the girl of my dreams..." he murmured, his words trailing off as eyes searched yours with a mix of anxiety and hope.
wait.
wait.
what ?
"t-the girl of your d-dreams ?" you muttered, as you repeated the words that fell from his lips, sounding foreign to your own ears.
the confession sent your world spinning. all this time, you had been harboring a crush on the quiet, handsome boy in your lectures, never imagining that the mysterious "j.one" who supported your streams was the very same person. but it was even more than that — he had been falling for you in both worlds simultaneously.
"i've liked you since the first day of the semester," jisung admitted, his voice dropping to that low, vibrating register. "long before I ever found your channel. and then, when I saw you on my screen and saw the same tattoo... i realized the girl i was falling for in class was the same girl i was losing my mind over online. i was terrified that if i told you all of a sudden, it would ruin everything we were building in person."
he took a tentative step closer, the soft light of the dorm room catching the silver of his frames as his gaze dropped to your outfit — the very one from your confession.
"i've been watching your streams since you started," he confessed, his voice dropping to that low, vibrating register. "at first, I couldn't believe it. I’d spend my days sitting behind you in lecture, memorizing the way you'd tuck your hair behind your ear, and then I’d go home and see you on my screen. I felt like I was living two different lives, and in both of them, I was completely falling for you."
you stood there, your brain finally connecting the dots — the way j.one always knew exactly what to say to calm your nerves, make you feel more comfortable, make you feel at home.
it wasn't just luck. it was really him.
you buried your face in your palms, blood rushing to your cheeks until they feel like they might actually catch fire. the heat was so intense it was nearly crimson, staining your skin under the soft light of his room.
"oh god — jisung, i've been losing my mind over you for months," you muttered into your hands, the words muffled and thick with the kind of raw embarrassment that made you want to melt into the floor. "i was literally swooning over you on a livestream because i thought you wouldn't notice me. and all this time... it was you ? you were right there ?"
the silence that followed was heavy, but not uncomfortable. it was the kind of silence that happens right before a storm breaks.
jisung let out a soft, breathy laugh — a sound that was part relief and part pure, unadulterated longing. he set your tote bag down on the entryway table with a clinical sort of care, his movements slow and deliberate. when he stepped toward you, you could feel the shift in the air, the way his presence suddenly loomed larger, warmer, and much more real than a username on a screen.
"look at me," he whispered, his voice a low, honeyed command that vibrated right in the center of your chest.
you shook your head frantically behind your fingers, your heart performing a violent rhythm against your ribs.
but jisung wasn't having it.
he reached out, his fingers gently encircling your wrists. his touch was firm but incredibly soft, the warmth of his skin sending a jolt through you that made your breath hitch. slowly, he pulled your hands away from your face, forcing you to meet his gaze.
up close, behind the silver frames of the glasses, his eyes were dark, searching yours with a desperate kind of intensity.
oh he could look at you for eternity.
you were so ethereal, he was awestruck.
"you have no idea," he murmured, his thumb grazing the pulse point on your wrist. "you think you were the only one going crazy ? i sat next to you for four hours today trying to breathe normally while your leg was inches away from mine. i've been sitting in that library staring at you, wondering how someone could be so perfect."
jisung leaned in just a fraction, his scent — that intoxicating mix of clean laundry, slight musk and something uniquely him — clouding your senses.
"i don't just want the girl on the screen," he whispered, his gaze dropping to your lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back to your eyes. "i want the girl who aces everything quietly. the girl who bites her lip when she’s thinking. the girl who's smile makes the world seem brighter, warmer. i want you."
a blooming sensation emerged in your chest, as if your heart was growing too big for your ribs, trying to burst at the seams from the sheer weight of the affection he was showing you. for the first time, the jisung you adored and the j.one you craved were the same person, and he was standing right in your space, looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered.
"i want you too, jisung. so badly that every thought exits my brain the second i look at you. even a text or a comment from you makes my knees buckle. every time you smiled at me in class, the world felt brighter, and i couldn't help but want you more and more," you whispered, the words pouring out of you now that the dam had finally broken.
the intensity in his eyes deepened, his grip on your wrists softening as his hands slid up to rest on your waist. the heat from his palms seeped through the fabric of your grey top, grounding you even as your head spun.
"you have no idea how long i've waited to hear you say that," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, becoming that low, husky tone that usually only existed in your dreams of him over you.
jisung took another half-step closer, the distance between you now completely non-existent. you could feel the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, see the way his pulse was jumping in his neck, mirroring your own. his gaze moved slowly over your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and the way you were looking at him with wide, star-struck eyes.
"i sat through that four-hour lecture today thinking i was going to lose it if i didn't touch you," he whispered, his hand moving from your waist to cup the side of your face, his thumb grazing your bottom lip. "and seeing you in this outfit... the same one from the stream... it’s like you’re trying to kill me on purpose."
jisung leaned down, his forehead resting against yours. "can i ?" he breathed, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours, giving you every chance to back away even though he knew— and you knew — that there was nowhere else you would rather be.
a single nod of your head was all the permission he needed. jisung closed the final inch of distance between you, his hands sliding firmly onto your waist to pull you flush against him. you instinctively reached out, your fingers bunching the soft fabric of his grey shirt at his shoulders to ground yourself as the world seemed to tilt on its axis.
as jisung’s soft lips met yours, a small gasp escaped you — a tiny sound of surprise and sweet relief of finally having his lips on yours — and he swallowed it right away, muffling the sound with the heat of the kiss.
soft. he was so incredibly soft.
and it wasn't just his lips — he was soft in every mannerism. it was the way his fingers splayed across the small of your back, holding you close without crushing you. it was the way his lips caressed yours with a slow, rhythmic patience, and the way he looked at you in the brief moments he pulled back to breathe — like you were someone precious he wanted to take his sweet, sweet time cherishing.
the kiss deepened naturally, his tongue grazing your lower lip in a silent question that made your toes curl inside your white knit stockings. you leaned into him, your heart hammering against his chest.
jisung could feel his dreams finally coming to life as your lips touched his, your shared breath filling his lungs. you were the epitome of sweetness, all soft and flustered in his arms — how could he not adore you ? he had spent so many nights wondering if the girl on his screen would ever feel this real, and now that he had you in his grip, he was never letting go.
you both moved in tandem, your lips glistening with shared saliva in the dim light of the dorm. you softly traced jisung's lower lip with your own before suckling on it, a move so bold it pulled a low, guttural groan from deep in his throat. the sound vibrated through both of your chests, making your knees feel like they were made of water.
"j-jisung..." you mumbled against his mouth, your voice thick and syrupy, "i — i can't believe it's actually you."
"it's me, baby — it has always been me," he whispered back, his voice a low, honeyed rasp.
as he pulled you closer, his hands sliding down to the dip of your back to press you firmly against him, your breasts smushed against his chest. the friction of your bodies meeting — the softness of your curves against the solid planes of his torso — was almost too much for him to handle.
jisung didn't think heaven existed, but if it did, it was probably this.
his kisses became slower, more intentional, as he began to trail them down from your lips to your jawline. you let out a shaky, hitched breath when you felt his nose brush against the sensitive skin of your neck, his silver frames cold against your heated skin.
"j-jisung... ah —" you gasped, your head rolling back to give him better access. you arched into him, your chest pressing even firmer against his as a small, broken moan slipped from your lips.
the sound seemed to undo him.
he let out a low, needy sound, his lips moving from soft grazes to deep, lingering presses against the column of your throat.
"you... you're so beautiful," he mumbled against your skin, his hot breath making your knees buckle. his hands, which had been resting gently on your waist, suddenly tightened, his fingers digging slightly into the soft fabric of your skirt as he pulled you even closer, if that was even possible.
you felt the shift in his energy — the sweetness was still there, but it was being overtaken by a desperate, hungry heat. his teeth grazed the junction where your neck met your shoulder, and you felt a jolt of pure electricity shoot down to your toes, making you whimper his name.
"jisung... please," you whispered, your fingers tangling desperately in his soft hair.
he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and blown out, his breathing coming in ragged, shallow bursts. "the... the bedroom ?" he managed to choke out, his voice cracking with a mix of shyness and intense desire.
you didn't even have to answer. you just kept your hands locked behind his neck as he began to lead you backward, neither of you willing to break the physical connection for even a second.
his lips found yours again, deeper and more demanding this time, as you both stumbled toward the half-open door of his room, the air between you thick with the promise of everything you'd both been dreaming of since the very first lecture.
once you hit the mattress, jisung broke off the kiss to find you looking up at him with wide, blown-out eyes. your lips were swollen from his touch, and your breath was coming in short, ragged breaks. his heart absolutely swooned at the sight — you were so vulnerable, so beautiful, and so his.
"can i... can i get them off, angel ?" he whispered, his voice cracking with a mix of shyness and a heat that made your skin tingle. his fingers were already hovering at the hem of your top, his knuckles grazing the skin of your stomach.
holy fuck
he literally called you "angel." it was the nickname that always appeared in your stream comments, but hearing it fall from his lips in that low, husky rasp made your heart leap into your throat.
you whispered a small, breathless "yes" as he carefully tugged the grey fabric over your head and slid your skirt down. you reached up and pulled out your claw clip, letting your hair spill over your shoulders in messy waves.
jisung had seen beauty before.
hell, he had seen you during all those long streams.
but nothing could have prepared him for how you would look right now, laying on his mattress in a black lace bra and matching panties, with those soft white knit stockings still hugging your legs.
you laid there like a literal angel — with your hair framing your face, he could almost swear he saw a halo around you. your soft curves existed in their full glory — the gentle slope of your tummy, your gorgeous hip dips, and his absolute favorite — those plush thighs practically spilling onto the mattress, looking so soft he felt an ache in his chest just looking at them.
are you even real ?
his eyes met yours again, and he looked almost dazed, his silver frames sliding slightly down his nose as he hovered over you. "you're... god, you're so perfect," he mumbled, his hand reaching out to trace the curve of your waist. "i-i don't even know where to start."
you bit your lip, your heart hammering against your ribs so hard it felt like it might bruise. seeing him hovering over you, still fully dressed in his soft t-shirt while you were laid out like an offering, made a wave of shy daring wash over you.
"j-jisung..." you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your shared, heavy breathing. you reached out, your fingers trembling as they hooked into the hem of his grey shirt. "can you... can you take these off, too ? i want to... i want to feel you."
the request seemed to short-circuit his brain for a second. his eyes went even darker, the pupils blown until only a thin rim of chocolate brown remained. "you — you want...?" he started, his voice cracking mid-sentence. he let out a shaky, half-breath of a laugh, his face turning a deep, endearing red. "yeah. okay. yeah."
he sat back on his heels, his movements a bit clumsy from the sheer adrenaline and nerves. you watched, mesmerized, as he crossed his arms and pulled the shirt over his head in one fluid motion.
oh. fuck.
you knew he was built, having observed him for an unhealthy amount of time, but seeing him with no barrier — it just hit different. his shoulders were broad, his skin a soft golden and glowing under the dim bedroom light, and the way his muscles rippled with every movement made your throat go dry.
he wasn't overly bulky, but he was lean and toned in all the right places — the kind of build that looked like it was made for holding someone close. he made quick work of his sweatpants, and as he moved back toward you, you couldn't help but stare at the way his chest rose and fell in ragged intervals.
he looked so handsome, so raw, and so incredibly flustered. when he crawled back over you, the heat radiating from his bare skin was intoxicating.
"is this... okay?" he mumbled, his arms bracing on either side of your head. he looked down at you, his silver frames sliding down his nose again, and the sight of his bare chest hovering just inches above your lace-covered breasts made your head swim.
"more than okay," you breathed, arching into him.
"you're so soft, angel," he groaned against your skin, his hands finally finding your plush thighs, his palms hot against the knit fabric of your stockings. "i feel like i'm dreaming... i never want to wake up."
he started to trail kisses along your collarbone, his touch becoming more confident as he felt you arch up to meet him, the friction of your bodies sending sparks through the quiet room. his hand slid higher, his thumb grazing the edge of your lace panties, and the sweetness of the moment began to sharpen into a deep, desperate hunger.
with a soft nod of permission from you, the lace was soon joined by the rest of your clothes on the floor, though he hummed a low, possessive sound when your hands went for your legs.
"no... keep the stockings on," he murmured, his voice thick and honey-dark. "you look too perfect in them."
he crawled between your legs, his knees gently spreading your plush thighs. he let out a low, ragged groan at the sight of you, his own heat pulsing with every passing second. to him, you were a masterpiece — the sweetest angel with the sweetest pussy ever, all soft and puffy, practically luring him in with your scent.
his hands slid underneath your thighs, his palms hot against the knit fabric of your stockings as he lifted you slightly, his gaze fixed on you with a hunger that felt almost reverent.
"angel," he breathed, his voice dropping into that deep, vibrating register that made your soul tremble. he leaned in close, his hot breath fanning against your sensitive skin. "i want you to sit on my face. can you do that for me ?"
the request was so bold, so raw, that it sent a shock of heat straight to your core. you looked down at him — jisung, with his messy hair and his face flushed a deep, beautiful crimson — and you realized he wasn't just asking. he was pleading. he wanted to worship you, to taste every bit of the girl who had dominated his thoughts for months.
"p-please," he mumbled against your inner thigh, his lips grazing the skin just above your stockings. "been dreaming about this for months. i want to taste how much you want me."
you felt the blood rush to your face, your heart performing a frantic tap-dance against your ribs. han jisung wanted your cunt on his face — who were you to say no ?
you gave a small, shaky nod, and the way his eyes lit up was enough to make your knees go weak all over again. as he laid down on the bed, you moved slowly, your face turning a deep crimson as you moved, your plush thighs framing his face as your hands reached out for the headboard.
as you moved to straddle him, jisung’s hand reached up, his fingers hooking around the silver bridge of his glasses to set them aside. "wait —" you whispered, your hand gently catching his wrist. you looked down at him, your voice small and shy. "c-can you leave them on ? i... i really love how you look in them, sungie."
jisung froze, his breath hitching as a deep, flustered red bloomed across his cheeks and chest. "y-you do ?" he mumbled, his eyes searching yours through the lenses, looking completely floored that you found his 'nerdy' frames attractive. a small, doted-on smile tugged at his lips as he dropped his hand back to your waist. "okay, angel. anything you want. i'll keep them on just for you."
as you lowered yourself, your core brushing against his lips, a broken sound escaped your throat. "is... is this okay ? tell me if i'm too heavy." you mumbled, so shy you couldn't even meet his eyes.
"more than okay — and angel, i deadlift nearly triple your weight — you're not fucking heavy, baby," he rasped, his hands coming up to grip your hips, his thumbs rubbing circles into your skin to steady you. "you're so... god, you're so pretty. you're perfect."
he didn't wait another second as he dived into the sweet treat hovering over him. when his tongue finally made contact, you let out a high, sharp gasp, your back arching as you clutched at his shoulders.
"jisung — ah fuck — j-ji..."
"shh, just take it, angel," he mumbled against you, his voice muffled but dripping with affection. "i've got you. i've finally got you right where i want you."
jisung practically devoured you, his tongue parting your folds to flick at your swollen pearl with a starving, desperate energy. he switched between long, dragging licks and sharp, needy suction, his head tilting to find the perfect angle as you bucked helplessly against him. his hands stayed busy, molding the soft flesh of your plush thighs and squeezing your hips to keep you pressed firmly to his face — his favorite view in the world.
he was relentless. his tongue suddenly darted deeper, sliding into your tight, wet hole with a rhythmic thrust that made your eyes roll back into your head. he let out a low, guttural groan right into your cunt, the deep vibration buzzing through your core and making your walls twitch and spasm around his tongue.
jisung’s silver-framed glasses were completely fogged over now, the lenses clouded from the rising heat of your bodies and his own frantic, shallow breathing. a few stray droplets of your juices had splattered onto the lenses, but he didn't even care; he was too far gone, his tongue darting back into your hole with a pulsing thrust that had you crying out his name.
"j-ji — i-i can't — nnnnngh — i'm g-gonna —" you sobbed out, your fingers digging desperately into his scalp, but he only gripped your thighs harder. his thumbs pressed deep into your soft, yielding skin to hold you in place, refusing to let you pull away from the worship you deserved.
"give it all to me, angel. let me see you break for me," he rasped, pulling back for a split second, his lips glistening and his eyes glazed with pure, unadulterated hunger.
he dived back in, his tongue swirling deep inside you before snapping back up to flick your pearl with a sharp, insistent friction.
the combination was too much, in the best way possible.
you felt the coil inside you snap, your body jolting as a wave of white-hot heat crashed over you. you arched your back high off the mattress, a sharp moan leaving your lips as you suddenly squirted, the hot spray hitting his face and further drenching his fogged-up glasses.
jesus fucking christ —
you literally squirted on his face.
life had never been better — never fucking ever.
jisung didn't pull away for even a heartbeat. he leaned into your dripping cunt, humming a deep, satisfied sound as he drank you in, his tongue catching every drop of your release as you shuddered and sobbed against him. he held you through the entire thing, his hands still molding your thighs and his face buried in your sweetness, proving that he really did want every single part of his angel.
his attention finally wavered when he heard you whimpering, your words falling in his ear making his head spin —
"wan — hic — wan your cock, sungie — mmmh please..."
jisung froze, your broken, hitching voice slicing right through the haze of his desire. hearing his name tangled with such a raw, desperate plea made his head spin faster than any high he’d ever felt. he pulled back just enough to look at you, his face flushed a deep, beautiful red as he took in your state — eyes glazed, hair a mess on his pillows, and your body still trembling from the way he’d just worshipped you.
"you... you want — ?" he started, his voice cracking mid-sentence. he let out a shaky, half-breath of a laugh, the shy boy in him momentarily stunned by your directness, but the heat in his gut quickly burned the hesitation away.
jisung moved with a new, frantic energy, his hands sliding from your thighs to your waist as he repositioned himself over you. his bare chest brushed against yours, the friction sending a new jolt of electricity through both of you. he looked down at you, his gaze intense even without his glasses, his pupils so blown they nearly swallowed the brown of his irises.
"god, i've been wanting to hear you say that since the moment we walked in here," he rasped, his forehead dropping against yours for a second as he tried to steady his breathing. "i want you so bad, angel."
he reached down and rolled a condom onto his dick, his fingers trembling slightly as he guided himself to your entrance. his knuckles turned white as he gripped your plush thighs, holding them wide so he could see every bit of where you met. he didn't just slam into you; instead, he guided the head of his cock to your entrance, his breath hitching as he felt how slick and ready you were for him.
"look at me, baby," he rasped, his voice trembling with the effort of holding back. "i'm going to go slow. i want you to feel every single bit of this."
jisung pushed forward just an inch, his eyes locked onto yours as your breath hitched. you felt the broad head of him stretching you open, the sensation so intense it made your toes curl.
"o-oh god... sungie..."
"you're so tight, angel," he groaned, his forehead dropping against yours as he pushed another inch deeper. "fuck, i can't believe how perfectly you're taking me."
jisung let out a sharp, jagged breath, his head dropping into the crook of your neck as he felt your walls frantically trying to accommodate him. the way you were falling apart, your voice breaking into those small, needy hiccups, was making his own self-control slip through his fingers.
"god... you're so tight," he groaned against your skin, the sound muffled and raw. he stayed still for a heartbeat, his hips pinned heavily against yours as he felt you pulse around him. "just... give me a second, angel. you’re wrapping around me so perfectly."
he started to move then, not with long strokes, but with slow, shallow grinds that forced you to feel every bit of his girth.
"mmmph... please... m-more," you whined, your hands sliding down his back to pull him closer, desperate for the friction. "too — hic — big... 's so big, sungie..."
jisung’s eyes snapped open, dark and glazed with a mix of pride and pure hunger. "i know," he rasped, a small, breathless smile tugging at his lips despite the sweat dripping down his temple. "i know it's a lot, baby. but you're taking it so well. look at you..."
he pulled back, almost all the way out, before sliding back in with a wet, heavy thud that knocked the air right out of your lungs.
"hngh !" your back arched off the mattress, your fingers curling into the sheets. "feels s'good... 'm so full —"
"yeah ? you feel that ?" he grunted, his pace picking up just a fraction, the rhythm becoming more insistent. "such a sweet girl and suuuuuch a sweet pussy... god, you're so wet for me."
he stopped midway through a thrust, his muscles locking up as you squeezed him particularly hard. he let out a choked moan, his eyes fluttering shut as he fought the urge to finish right then and there. he leaned down, capturing your lips in a messy, tongue-heavy kiss to swallow your whimpers, his hips starting to roll in a way that hit that one spot deep inside, over and over again.
the friction of his rolling hips was too much, the sensation of him grinding against your deepest point sending sparks through your entire nervous system. your legs, still draped over his broad shoulders, shook uncontrollably as you felt the familiar coil in your gut tighten into a knot.
"jisung — wait, i'm —" you gasped, your nails digging into the skin of his back.
"i've got you," he panted, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly rumble. he didn't slow down — instead, he drove in deeper, his pace turning frantic and raw. "come for me, angel. right now."
with one final, bone-deep thrust, you shattered. your internal walls clamped down on him in a series of violent, rhythmic pulses that sent him over the edge instantly. jisung let out a loud, broken cry against your neck, his body stiffening as he came, his weight collapsing onto you as you both drifted back down to earth, hearts hammering against each other in the quiet room.
the heavy silence of the room was broken only by the sound of your synchronized breathing and the occasional rustle of the sheets as the adrenaline began to fade. jisung stayed buried in you for a long moment, his forehead pressed against yours, before he slowly, reluctantly slid out.
"stay right here," he whispered, his voice still a bit scratchy. "don't move an inch."
he disappeared into the bathroom, returning a minute later with a warm, damp towel. he climbed back onto the bed, his movements soft and careful as he began to clean you up. he was incredibly thorough, his touch tender as he wiped away the evidence of how much he’d just worshipped you. he kissed your plush thighs, lingering over the faint red marks his fingers had left behind.
"you okay ? i didn't go too hard, did i ?" he asked, looking up at you through his glasses with those soft, worried eyes. when you shook your head and reached for him, he let out a relieved breath.
he padded over to his dresser and pulled out his favorite oversized grey hoodie and a pair of his softest boxers. he helped you sit up, gently guiding your arms through the sleeves. the hoodie was huge on you, the hem reaching mid-thigh, and the sleeves swallowing your hands. he chuckled softly, tugging the hood over your messy hair before pulling the boxers up your legs.
"there," he murmured, tucking you back under the duvet and climbing in beside you. "much better. you look so good in my clothes, angel."
he let you settle against his chest, his arms wrapping around you securely. he stayed like that for a few minutes, just holding you, until he suddenly remembered something. he gently disentangled himself, whispering another "be right back" before slipping out of the room.
when he returned, he was hiding something behind his back, a nervous, dorky grin playing on his lips.
"i... uh... i had these hidden in a vase in the hall closet," he mumbled, stepping closer to the bed. he revealed a beautiful, fragrant bouquet of pink lilies.
"i wanted the timing to be perfect, but honestly ? after tonight ? i couldn't wait another second."
he sat on the edge of the mattress, handing you the flowers with a hand that was still slightly trembling. his silver glasses were a bit crooked, reflecting the soft light of the room.
"i love you, angel. so... will you be my girlfriend ?," he said, his eyes searching yours with a raw, terrifying sincerity.
you didn't even need to speak — the way you pulled him back into the blankets. burying your face in the lilies and then his chest, you mumbled a yes and it told him everything he needed to know.
"yeah," he breathed, his chin resting on top of your head as he squeezed you tight. "my girl."
kysa's note: this is a compiled repost of my fav fic i've ever written plus i NEED to spread the nerdsung agenda with bucket full of yearning and nicknames so here this is :) lemme know your thoughts in the comments below, ༝༚༝༚
𐙚⋆.˚ jester! jisung x princess! fem! reader [ request ]
jisung's job is making the royal court laugh, as his beloved princess stops smiling he takes the matter into his own hands
⤷ a/n : this drabble was my first request >_< i hope i did good and that it's up to anon's expectations, it was supposed to be a longer fic but lately things have been so busy a lil drabble was all i could do :) enjoyy <3
⤷ contains : +18 historical smut m! masturbation p in v sex wet dreams sub/bottom hanji bratty reader ⋮ ⌗ ┆ wc [ 1.5k ] — tags : @jisungml + @smiileflower
⤷ now playing : cuntissimo by marina
jester! jisung whose entire reason for living is entertain the royal family, sing jolly songs for the court and come up with witty jokes even on his worst days, but even on those dark days where he wished only to be a commoner worrying about trading milk and vegetables for his family behind the castle walls, the only thought that actually kept him going day after day under humiliation was his beloved princess
jester! jisung who didn’t understand the maids’ comments about what a spoiled girl you grew up to be, how every knight dreaded escorting you through the city to talk to the people, or even the bishops pretended they weren’t at the church when you showed up by orders of the queen, for him you were the only person in the whole kingdom he was willing to spend the entire night thinking about a new melody just for you, if you demanded a joke he was already tripping down the stairs for a fragment of your laughter
jester! jisung who lived by the mantra that every word that came out of your mouth was an order higher than the king himself, ever since he was taken to the castle and saw a frown forming in your beautiful face he made everything to bring a laugh out of your pouty lips every day after it, a delightful sound that sent him higher than any ale he could find on the kingdom, but not higher than all the teasing you’ve been doing lately
jester! jisung who didn’t understand why you were suddenly so interested in asking him things such as how to know if a man liked you, how to be more pleasant as a partner, how to make a prince fall in love with you, and he answered every question, he had to, it was his job to entertain the royal family and play by the rules of any games they ordered him to do, even if just hearing the princess say those kind of things sent a feverish wave of heat to every corner of his body
jester! jisung who laid on the hard mattress inside his candlelit chambers in the middle of the night, words and tunes drifting through his mind now flooded solely by images of you—the sight of you bending down to reach for a fallen book was scorched into his brain, alongside the swell of your breasts that seemed to almost spill over your too tight corset, even the mere glance of your bare feet and ankles while stubbornly dancing in the stream near the castle’s forest sent him to heaven
jester! jisung who saw the shadows dancing over the walls of his chambers, wishing it was you in front of him, swaying your hips on top of him where in an ideal world a jester could live the dream of having a perfect night of passion with the gracious heir of the throne, where your skin of silk would shudder under the roughness of his calloused palms, and the sound of your moans would match the same pitch of your brightest laughter
jester! jisung who closed his eyes just as tightly as he wrapped his fingers around his throbbing member, hidden under strained trousers, bursting with the need of pressing your sweaty breasts against his heaving chest, seeing the drool dripping from the corner of your bruised and swollen lips as his pristine and noble lady came undone by the mere touch of him
jester! jisung who feels guilty by all the thoughts he tries to keep away from his mind every time he looks at you, but also undoubtedly noticing that you were more distant lately, lashing out on the servants more often, even with your parents, and the frown poor jisung worked so hard to take away from you was now taking over your beautiful features, feeling bitter jealousy slowly taking over him for the reason of your sudden change was that one of your suitors rejected you for being “too difficult and not docile”
jester! jisung who storms down the stone walls late at night, joining on a search for you after the knights reported you were nowhere to be seen in your aisle, jisung knew you better than anyone on that castle, he knew each of your secret hideouts for when you threw one of your fits and just wanted to pout alone where no one could bother you with royal duties, but this time he also knew you wanted more than anything to be seen by someone, and he wanted to be that one
jester! jisung who found you by a balcony on the east wing that contemplated the dark forest, you heard his steps getting closer but didn't turn around, simply terrified of letting your jolly jester see you the high and mighty princess so depressed about not being worshiped by another pretty and plain prince, you thought about making some snarky remark or witty joke just like him but in a heartbeat jisung’s loud voice echoed through the silent corridor “look at me!”, he strided closer even though your back was still turned to him, reaching for your shivering shivering from the cold night breezes and finally turning you around to face him, only to be met by the glistening shine of your tears rolling down your cheeks
jester! jisung who froze in place for a moment too long, desperation taking over of every fiber of his being when seeing his beloved suffering from a broken heart, he wanted to think about a lame joke to make you laugh, a jolly song to soothe your pleading gaze, but in a matter as devastating as this he knew he had to do something effective and quick, only enough time for him to slowly lean down, brush his trembling fingers under your chin, your glossy eyes widening and at last focusing on him alone as he captured your lips in a soft kiss
jester! jisung who can feel your stiff muscles at first softening under his warm embrace, tongues beginning to swirl against one another as if that was the only language they could talk equally, without you needing to use noble terms or his local accent slipping through his lips, the grip on the soft flesh of your ass wasn’t very respectable of him, but that was the only was his body could respond to every one of your moans that he swallowed into his mouth, needy whines that dripped from your lips and died down on the tip of his tongue
jester! jisung who let you guide him to your private chambers, the wide candlelit room decorated with ribbons and everything he ever imagined a princess would like, but the only thing he could focus on that moment was the desperation of your fingers gripping his rattling collar and throwing him on your soft and silky bed, with an hesitance he never saw you disclose publicly, you stripped from the rich fabrics that engulfed your body and climbed bare on top of him, finally out of his checkered clothes he could feel every slight shiver traveling down on your thighs as you leaned down for another feverish kiss
jester! jisung who couldn't help but feel delighted not only by your soaked core sliding against his carved stomach but his stiff manhood edging closer to the curve of your round ass, with a slow glance around your majestic figure caging him under plush thighs he rests his palms on your waist to let you know you were the one in charge that night, a shaky exhale escapes your swollen lips as you wrapped your fingers around his bursting member, sliding his flushed tip to your entrance and letting it painfully yet deliciously stretch out every inch of your insides
jester! jisung who fought against the urge to come at the sight of you circling your hips to welcome him in easier inside you or biting your lower lip when you finally reached the base of his length, meaty flesh gripping every sensitive bit of him as you rested your palms on his muscular chest and picked up a lavish pace, covering him in a coat of your juices while leaving the tiniest red crescent moon marks near his shoulders
jester! jisung who spent years learning every side of you, but that night he finally got to wrap his arms around your waist as you engulfed him in pleasure, capturing your mouth into his as a weak attempt to muffle both of your moans when the climax washed down your sore and slick bodies that still gripped into one another even as he softened inside you, at last your backs fell into the mattress in a mess of silky sheets and erratic breaths, with your head tucked safely to the crook of his neck you two cuddled even closer to each other, almost falling in slumber a weak and pleased whisper leaves your lips asking for one of his lullabies for sweet dreams
“under the dancing gleam of stars in the night
from sleep my poor eyes fight
so haunted by you, I write a funny song
because my heart beats in a way that's wrong
it knows that to the crown my soul oblige
but I rather love in the shadows only to be able to dream by your side”
