𝑖𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ. . . you seem to always need help fixing things around your apartment. luckily, your neighbour, hyunjin, has a knack for household repairs. your damn hot and witty handyman-of-a-neighbour who is always there for his doll in distress—even if all she needs is a good dicking down.
𝑃. hwang hyunjin x afab!reader
𝐺. smut, handyman!neighbour!hyunjin
𝑊𝐶. 10.4k
𝐶𝑊. [MDNI] explicit sexual content, softdom!hyunjin, nipple play, oral (f. rec.), pussydrunk!hyunjin, praise, manhandling, breeding kink, dirty talk, petnames (doll, sweetheart, baby), piv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it ! pls !!), creampie, hyunjin is just hot as hell honestly, and has such a dirty mouth gosh. consume responsibly. take care of yourself.
𝑅𝛮. written with afab reader in mind. reader has breasts and a vagina. all characters are consenting and over 18 yo.
۶ৎ 𝑙𝑒𝑒'𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑢𝑑𝑒 ࿐ that workdol episode clearly did a number on me.
THE SINK was your foe, and the plumbing in your building was a joke.
“This is what you called me for?” Hyunjin’s voice filtered through the phone, tinged with an amused disbelief that made it difficult to tell whether he was genuinely concerned or simply entertained by your latest crisis.
You balanced the phone against your shoulder, a damp dish towel in one hand and a half-soaked roll of paper towels in the other, glaring at the mess spreading across your kitchen floor. The sink had been making strange noises for weeks, a low gurgle that seemed harmless enough until it finally turned on you, sending water pooling across the counter with a mocking drip that no amount of frantic plunging could stop. The pipes—the stubborn, stubborn pipes—had defeated every attempt you’d made, leaving you knee-deep in irritation and suds.
“Unless you know a better way to keep my apartment from turning into an indoor pool, yes, this is what I called you for,” you said, trying and failing to keep the exasperation out of your voice. “It’s either you or I start charging admission at the door.”
A low chuckle resonated through the line, warm and infuriatingly self-satisfied. “You know, most people would just call maintenance. That’s literally what they’re paid for.”
“I did call maintenance,” you muttered, squeezing the damp towel until droplets slipped between your fingers. “They said someone could come by next Tuesday. Unless I plan on living off takeout for the next week, that’s not exactly helpful.”
“Ah,” Hyunjin replied, dragging the syllable out with a smugness that made your stomach tighten. “So I’m not just your first call… I’m your only option.”
“You’re the only option that doesn’t involve my entire kitchen rotting.”
He hummed, the sound low and thoughtful, as though he was weighing the gravity of the situation. “I just showered, doll. You trying to get me dirty again?”
Your mouth opened, but words failed to spill out from over your lips. You stood still, pushing at the way his causal tone made your cheeks heat and heart thump, trying to conjure a quip back, or yell at him, perchance.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Try not to cry without me.”
The line went dead before the curses you had lined up rolled off your tongue, leaving you alone with the gurgling of the faucet and the uncomfortable quickening of your heartbeat.
Hyunjin had a way of slipping beneath your skin without even trying, weaving himself into moments that should have been mundane and turning them into something you thought about long after they ended. You had lived next door to him for nearly a year, long enough to know he was the sort of neighbour who always seemed to appear when you least expected it—carrying groceries into the elevator at the exact moment you struggled with your own, lounging in his work clothes against the railing of the stairwell when you came home late, dress shirt rumpled and hair in a messy state no amount of intentional styling could replicate. He was helpful in an infuriatingly smug way that made it impossible to thank him without also wanting to throttle him.
And he was handsome, although “handsome” felt like too simple a word for someone who could make you lose track of what you were saying in the middle of a sentence just by pushing his unkempt fringe off his forehead. Hyunjin had a way of existing that demanded your attention; tall and loose-limbed, all lazy grace and deep contours dwindled by the warmth of his stupid grin.
You had told yourself, repeatedly, that this attraction was nothing but a harmless nuisance, an unfortunate side effect of close proximity and his vexing habit of showing up in your space like it belonged to him. You had convinced yourself the butterflies in your stomach were merely a byproduct of his teasing, the kind of thing anyone would feel when faced with a neighbour who always seemed to know how to get under your skin. Yet, every time you caught yourself watching him tighten a screw with those long fingers, or when his voice curled around your name in his low, unhurried drawl, you wondered how much longer you could keep up the act.
A sharp knock at your door jolted you from your thoughts.
When you opened it, Hyunjin leaned against the frame with an infuriating ease, his battered red toolbox hanging from one hand, the other tucked into the pocket of his jeans, a dark wash you had grown accustomed to because these jeans were his handyman jeans—he wore them whenever he came over to help you fix up your kitchen cabinets, or install new tiles on the floor of your bathroom, or screw in a lightbulb you truly could’ve done yourself. The denim was littered with wood dust and gorilla glue and dried paint, tiny rips clawing into the fabric across his knees.
His white t-shirt clung to his arms and chest, and it felt deeply unfair—did he have to be so well sculpted?—and his hair was still damp from his shower, the strands spiking slightly as they dried. A warm, woody scent drifted past you as he stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, leaving you momentarily caught between irritation and the embarrassing awareness of how your heart had quickened.
“Your knight in shining denim,” he announced, setting the toolbox on your counter with a dull clang before towering in front of the sink, his eyes sweeping over the small flood. “Wow. You weren’t kidding. You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”
“I told you it was bad,” you mumbled, crossing your arms.
“You undersold it,” he said, sleeves already shoved up, biceps already pulling the fabric taut as he examined the pipes. “This is a full-scale anarchy.”
You leaned against the counter, trying to bluff indifference even though your eyes travelled with a mind of their own, skimming over the line of his shoulders, the sharp angle of his jaw as he focused. “Do you actually know hwo to fix it, or are you just here to gloat while I drown?”
“Both,” he admitted without looking up, his mouth twitching at the corners. “But don’t worry, I’ve got this. You can trust me.”
The words were casual, tossed out without thought, but the way they landed with unexpected weight, pulling at something in your chest, had forced your gaze to the dripping faucet, to the water-stained towels scattered across the floor, to anything that wasn’t him.
“Tell me how it started,” he said, his words softened by the scrape of metal as he retrieved a wrench from the box, glancing up at you with a calm gaze that had the infuriating ability to both irritate and disarm you at the same time. “Did the water stop draining all at once, or has it been slow for a while?”
You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, shifting your weight against the counter, carefully positioning yourself far enough from the watery mess that you refused to step into it again, though you knew he would never let it touch you even if it spread.
“It was gurgling for days, but I thought it would work itself out. Tonight, though, I washed a pan and suddenly the whole thing just… rebelled.” Hyunjin snorted. You continued, “I tried the plunger, I tried pouring boiling water, I even tried vinegar and baking soda. Nothing worked.”
Hyunjin shook his head, his damp strands of hair falling forward until he brushed them back with his wrist, leaving a subtle streak of water against his temple that gleamed in the dim kitchen light. “You’re lucky it didn’t explode on you. Pipes don’t like being ignored, sweetheart.”
Your heart tripped at the word, though you masked it with a curt roll of your eyes. “You say that like I had any other choice.”
“You had one.” He turned back to the pipes, his voice rich with a smugness that fizzled beneath your skin. “Calling me before it turned into a flood.”
The wrench twisted in his grip, veins straining against the skin of his forearm, his long fingers gripping deftly as he loosened one of the joints. A thin stream of water spat out at him, splattering across his shirt and streaking down the column of his throat, catching the faint sheen of sweat already gathering along his skin. He didn’t flinch, only muttered something under his breath as he reached for a rag and wiped his hands, the damp cotton of his t-shirt sticking more closely to his chest with each movement.
That damn white t-shirt. He knew what he was doing wearing a white t-shirt to a job involving water.
You tried not to stare, but when you catch the way his chest looks under the wet ghost-like fabric, your eyes started dragging down the lines of his body, tracing the subtle dip of muscle beneath the shirt, the stretch of denim housing dampened splotches across his thighs where he balanced on his heels.
“Stop hovering,” he quipped tauntingly, breaking your trance. “You’re making me nervous.”
“You’re not nervous,” you replied too quickly, the flush creeping up your neck exposing you far more than your voice did.
A slow grin spread across his face, but his eyes stayed fixed on the pipes. “You’re right. I’m not.”
The water hissed as he twisted another piece free, the sound filling the silence between you, punctuated only by the occasional clink of metal against tile. You stood with your arms crossed, feigning indifference even as your stomach fluttered, his voice threading through the space with an easy confidence making you want to lean closer just to hear more.
“Honestly,” Hyunjin continued, “you’re lucky I like you. Anyone else, I’d have told them to call a plumber and left them to figure it out. But you–” He finally looked up, his canines cutting sharp against the dim light. “You get VIP treatment.”
Your throat went dry, though you managed to roll your eyes, clinging to the veneer of irritation that had always been your armor with him. “VIP? Do you mean free labor?”
“Free for now,” he corrected, tightening one final joint before leaning back to test the faucet. The water sputtered, then flowed smoothly sans restraint, the pool in the sink beginning to drain away in a whirl. He wiped his hands on the rag and pushed himself to his feet, his height crowding the space between you as he leaned close enough for you to catch the scent of his woody cologne on his skin again, mingling with the freshness of his shower and, now, the spray of pipe water. “But I’m starting to reconsider my rates.”
You exhaled, both relieved and annoyed, watching the sink clear itself as though he had worked some sort of miracle. “So you’re done? That’s it?”
“That’s it.” He tilted his head, water still dripping from the ends of his hair, sliding down the side of his neck in thin rivulets. “Good as new. No more indoor swimming pool.”
You hesitated, then said, “Well… I suppose I should compensate you somehow.”
A smirk found solace on his lips, entirely too knowing. He took a step closer, dropping his voice just enough to make your pulse stumble.
“You could always offer me a shower.” He let the pause hang and added, “Preferably one I don’t have to take alone. I did get all dirty fixing your sink, after all."
Your lips parted, words failing to stitch along the tip of your tongue as heat surged through your chest, your body discarding the veil you typically hid behind. You tried your very best to hold his gaze, to avoid peeking at the sag of his damp clothes across his chest and torso.
Hyunjin reached for his toolbox, his smirk loitering on his lips like he had said nothing at all out of the ordinary. “Call me if you need anything else,” he said, his tone smoothing back into something deceptively neutral as his lips curved. “And try not to wait until it’s an emergency next time.”
You could get him as wet as you wanted him, thought Hyunjin. And although a shower with you sounded like the epitome of all his wettest dreams (literally!), he really just wanted to take you out to dinner.
Hyunjin thinks he’ll ask you the next time he’s over to help you, his pretty doll.
THE BOOKSHELF was so desperately needed, it was almost incredulous that you hadn’t bought a new one already.
The old one leaned in the corner of your bedroom like a tired old man, its frame straining under the weight of years of collecting, every shelf sagging, buckling under the burden of your affection for the written word. Books were piled not only vertically, but in sideways towers that grew dangerously tall, forming stacks on your bedside table and even finding refuge on the floor. There were just too many, some that had been well-cherished, others you hadn't even gotten a chance to indulge in yet.
You had laughed the first time you found yourself stepping over novels on the way to bed, but last weekend, when one had tipped over and startled you awake with a sharp thud against the hardwood, you had sworn it was finally time.
The new bookshelf arrived that morning in a flat pack box, heavy with wooden panels and plastic-wrapped screws and a thick manual with all the information you needed to get it set up. You could have assembled it yourself, but the thought of untangling the fat manual with its poorly written instructions, tiny print and all, made you groan.
And, truthfully, when you had Hyunjin—a neighbor who had become both your rescuer and tormentor, a man whose hands could fix just about anything—why would you deny yourself the pleasure of watching him work?
He knocked at your door just after six, right on the heels of his workday. You opened it to find him in a pressed white shirt, the sleeves pushed up hastily to his elbows, his tie tugged loose as if he had only just pulled it free on the walk over. The slacks he wore hung perfectly, his hair a little mussed from his hand raking through it, strands falling his forehead before he brushed them away absentmindedly.
There was something wildly attractive about the juxtaposition of him in work attire holding a toolbox, his frame filling your doorway and lips surrendering as the home to a lazy smirk.
“You didn’t even change?” you questioned, stepping back to let him in, though the words came out lighter than you intended, possibly thanks to the sudden upbringing of your pulse.
“You sounded desperate,” he replied, his mouth curving into a knowing grin that made you want to roll your eyes and melt all at once. “Besides, you think I can’t build a bookshelf in slacks?”
“I think you shouldn’t risk ruining them.”
“If I thought I’d ruin them, I would have come in those raggedy jeans you love so much,” he said with a wink, walking over to your bedroom and setting the toolbox down with a thud against the wall. “Tonight, though, you get the deluxe service. Tie and everything.”
You exhaled slowly, half-annoyed by his cockiness and half enlivened by the way the undone buttons of his shirt revealed just enough skin to tempt the imagination. He was unfair in that way, managing to look immaculate while doing something as unglamorous as kneeling on your bedroom floor, sorting wooden panels into organized piles.
The two of you began unpacking the box together. You crouched beside him, pulling out pieces of hardware, the brush of your hand against his every time you handed him a screw or a dowel bolt sending little ripples through your chest. Hyunjin worked calmly, his long fingers moving with practice, his veins flexing subtly under his skin whenever he twisted the screwdriver. He concentrated in bursts, brows pinching together whenever his tools called for focus, then broke the silence with a comment that made you laugh.
“You know,” he said, aligning two boards and tightening a joint, his words laid-back and devoid of any uncertainty in his efforts, “you could have done this yourself if you wanted to. It’s practically foolproof.”
You gave him a pointed look, steadying a side panel he’d asked you to hold. “I could have. But then I’d miss out on your charming company.”
His head tipped to the side, a slow grin spreading across his face, and although he didn’t directly look at you, you caught the glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. “So you admit it—you just like having me around.”
“I admit nothing,” you countered, ignoring how your heartbeat said otherwise, racing at the proximity of him. He had leaned close to reach for a screw, his chest brushing your shoulder, the fabric of his shirt warm against your skin, his scent wrapping itself around you, still woody, but mixing with his natural musk. He lingered, not inappropriately, but long enough for the moment to feel longer than necessary—not that you were complaining—and your hands wavered on the board you were supposed to be holding still.
Hyunjin smirked, speaking low but teasingly, “Careful. If this collapses on us, I’m blaming your distraction.”
You huffed, shifting your grip along the panel.
The two of you had established a good workflow—him tightening, you holding, passing tools back and forth. Once, you fumbled a screw, and he caught it mid-air, flashing you a grin that made you scoff. Another time, he reached around you to adjust a joint, his arm caging you in without warning, body brushing behind yours and radiating a palpable heat you felt all over your back and arms. His breath ghosted over your temple when he spoke. “That’s it—hold it still. You’re good at this.”
“I’m literally just standing here,” you muttered, but your voice was thin, affected by how his closeness coiled inside you.
“That’s all it takes sometimes,” he said, and whether he meant building or something else entirely, you didn’t dare ask.
By the time the final screw slid into place, the bookshelf stood tall and flawless, a sturdy replacement for the leaning disaster it succeeded. You stood with your hands on your hips, surveying it proudly, Hyunjin’s presence at your side stealing more of your attention than the new piece of furniture did.
“Perfect,” you said, exhaling with satisfaction.
“No shit,” he chortled, brushing his palms off on his slacks. “It was built by a professional.”
“You are not a professional.”
“Not by trade,” he agreed, turning toward you with his deviled smile.
You rolled your eyes, trying to swat away the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “You’ve earned a drink.”
“I won’t argue.”
You led him to the kitchen, where he leaned casually against the counter, peeking at the crevice of the sink he’d fixed just days ago. His tie hung loosely, the unbuttoned collar framing his throat, and you found your eyes drifting there before you forced them away. He touched the faucet lightly, testing it. “Still running smooth? No disasters to report?”
“None.” You pulled open the fridge, sighing at the empty shelf where your favourite bottle of wine usually waited. “Although I did run out of wine.”
He gasped, his voice theatrical. “A tragedy. How do you survive without it?”
“Barely,” you admitted, holding up a bottle of peach juice instead. “This is all I’ve got. I’ve been too tired from work to stop at the store.”
His gaze washed over you as you poured, something soft creeping into his expression beneath the usual teasing glint. He didn’t make any comical remarks about your back-up choice of drink, but rather watched you fill both the glasses in silence.
“You’ve been working too hard.”
You shrugged, handing him a glass. “It’s nothing. Everyone’s tired.”
“You’re not everyone.” His words were quiet, but they landed firmly. For a moment, he didn’t look away, didn’t cloak the care in witty remarks or smirks. Then, as if sensing the air had grown too heavy, he tipped his glass toward you, his lips quirking again. “That’s why I come running, even when all you need me to do is change a lightbulb.” You blush at this and giggle, reminiscing upon the memory. “What’s next? The batteries in your remote?”
You laughed. “Don’t jinx it.”
“Don’t worry,” he mused, setting his empty glass down in the sink he fixed just days ago. “If it does, you’ll call me. I’ll come, just for you.”
Hyunjin did want to come for you.
Or, cum, more specifically. Perhaps he would, after he finally grew the balls to ask you out to dinner, since there were clearly none between his legs given his lack of proactivity.
YOU were surprised to find Hyunjin outside your apartment door in his tattered handyman jeans, holding his trusty red toolbox in his right hand, a brown bag scrunched around the neck of a bottle in his left. His hair was disheveled, strands spiking out in random, and he wore a black t-shirt that stretched over his shoulders and chest. You hadn’t called him, yet there he was, leaning against—
“The doorframe?”
He nodded, shifting the weight of the toolbox against his thigh, his eyes running down the line of your satin dress with such intent focus, you felt your breath lodge in your throat. “Yeah, I noticed it when I came over to put up your bookshelf,” he began casually. His gaze dragged up again, loitering across the neckline of your dress, “I didn’t know you’d be going out, though.”
The words carried a neutrality, but you knew him well enough to hear the subtle edge thumbing beneath them. The thought of you dressed up for someone else unsettled him.
“It’s nothing,” you said quickly, brushing your hands over the fabric, smoothing it out along your hips. “Just a work dinner. A little celebration with my team.”
Hyunjin’s shoulders drew down very subtly, his fingers flexing around the handle of his toolbox. “A work dinner,” he repeated, solidifying it in his mind. He gave a few slow nods before his chin tipped toward the brown bag in his other hand, a playful spark resurfacing in his eyes.
“What’s in there?” you asked, nodding at it.
“Your favourite,” he replied simply, lifting the bag just enough for the neck of the bottle to peek out. “I picked it up on my way home from work yesterday. I figured you’d eventually run out of excuses not to let me drink it with you, peach juice could only redeem me so much.” He smirked crookedly, his mischievous glimmering eyes crinkling into a squint.
The thought of him walking past the shop, remembering the name of the exact wine you’d offhandedly mentioned, and buying it without knowing when he’d even give it to you, sent your stomach tumbling. “You remembered?”
His smirk softened. “Of course I did.”
The corners of your mouth tugged upward, a warmth blossoming in your chest that you thought best to ignore. “You really didn’t have to.”
“Maybe not,” he said with a shrug, “but I wanted to.”
The honesty in his tone was disarming, and before you could let it mess with your mind, you stepped aside, gesturing him in. “Come on. You’re already here.”
He hesitated just enough to look at your dress again, his mouth pressing into a line that tried to be light but did nil to hide his interest. “I don’t want you to be late, though. If this takes too long–”
“It won’t,” you interrupted, a lilt in your voice. “Besides, I’d rather spend my time with you than my crew at work.”
His eyebrows rose, lips parting as if to confirm whether you meant it, but a determined glint overcame the look in his eyes, as though he’d taken your words as a challenge. “In that case,” he said, stepping inside with exaggerated seriousness, “this doorframe is about to receive the most meticulous repair of my career.”
You laughed, shaking your head as you returned to the vanity in your bedroom, sliding into the seat you’d abandoned in your rush to answer the door.
The mirror reflected the sight of Hyunjin setting the bottle on your kitchen counter, returning to place his toolbox on your bedroom floor, and stretching his arms up to push at the panel lifting off the jamb of your doorframe, doing his own mister fix it investigation. He leans down into his open toolbox, hands getting busy pulling out screws and the drill.
The panel itself wasn’t much—it was just a strip of wood peeling away from where it had once been flush—but Hyunjin treated it as though it were the most intricate repair he’d ever been asked to do. Every whir of his drill was unhurried, every lift of a screw rid of haste. He had decided keeping himself perched in your door was preferable to letting you walk out of it.
He drilled in the first screw, the sound sharp in the air, his arm flexing with each turn of the tool. You caught his reflection in the mirror, the way the veins colonized his forearm and swelled with the effort, the subtle stretch of his shirt over the top of his back when he pushed and drilled at the panel. He paused between each screw, peeking over at you as though to check your progress, though the look in his eyes mused over you longer than necessary.
What should have been a five-minute fix stretched languidly, his movements akin to a tortoise. He measured twice before driving in a screw, wiped his hands on his thighs even though they weren’t dirty, and spent a long time running his fingers along the wooden frame as if searching for invisible imperfections.
You pressed a brush to your cheekbones, pretending not to notice, but your heart had long deceived you, thudding rampantly against the confines of your ribs. His shirt had ridden up slightly when he had to stretch further up to reach the end of the panel—his height could only do so much for him. The lack of fabric revealed the sharp cut of his waist, the shadow of his v-line dipping into the waistband of his boxers. You bit down gently on your lip, sliding gloss across it and pretending your sudden distraction was entirely the fault of your reflection.
Hyunjin shifted again, kneeling lower, one hand braced against the frame while the other steadied the drill. His head tipped just enough for his hair to fall into his eyes, and he blew it away with a quick puff of air, his lips parting, the softest bite against the bottom one when the screw met more resistance than he’d expected.
“You’re awfully quiet over there,” he said suddenly, in a low voice that travelled easily in the few feet separating you.
“I’m trying not to distract you,” you consoled, your cheeks warming as you spoke.
He glanced up at you through your vanity mirror from his crouch, the corner of his lips quirking, his gaze so direct it sent an icy bullet up your spine. “Too late for that.”
You exhaled slowly, feigning nonchalance as you twirled an absentminded finger through the ends of your hair. Still, you couldn’t help sneaking glances, at the flex of his biceps when he leaned into the drill, at the way his jeans sagged just enough for the band of his boxers to peek through, at the lines of muscle carved into him even in the simplest of motions.
The panel should have been fixed in five minutes flat.
So why was it that twenty had passed, and he was still crouched there, examining his work, adjusting, pausing to wipe his palm against his denim-clad thigh, taking every opportunity to look up at you in the mirror?
With one last turn of the drill, he leaned back on his heels, wiping a speck of dust from his forearm with the back of his hand.
“There,” he said, his voice casual, though the smug curve at the corners of his lips told you he was proud of his unnecessary patience. “Door closes smooth as butter now.”
You twisted in your seat, eyeing him where he knelt on the floor, sweat beading faintly along his temple. “You made that take three times longer than it should have.”
He shrugged, setting the drill back in the toolbox, the muscles in his arm flexing with the movement. “Maybe I just like fixing things for you.”
The words landed heavy in your chest and echoed in your head longer than they should have, and you found your throat tightening because you weren’t sure how to respond.
With Hyunjin on your bedroom floor, his back pressed against the wall just beside the mended doorframe, the sight of him danced in your vision longer than it should have. The shadows of evening and dim light threw half of his face in a mellow shade. The sheen of sweat gathered along his temples caught the last strands of light, giving him a glow one only ever noticed when they were already looking too closely.
He sat with his legs stretched, denim tugged taut along his thighs, and even though he’d finished fixing what he came to mend, his body still held the languid tautness of a man in the midst of work, chest rising with each deep breath, fingers twitching as if reluctant to stash his tools away.
You hesitated only a moment before speaking. “We should open the wine,” you kept your voice casual through your shallow breaths, smiling through a raging heart, “it would be a waste if I drank it alone, and after all your effort today, you deserve it more than anyone.”
His mouth quirked, the curl of amusement playing at the commissures of his lips, but his eyes softened when they met yours. “You sure about that?” His voice was smooth, teasing. He knew you would never say no, but he wanted to hear you insist anyway.
“I’m sure,” you replied, pushing yourself to your feet, walking across your room, stepping over his long limbs stretched out in front of the door, and moving toward the kitchen, acutely aware of his gaze trailing behind you. It was almost too much, the weight of it pressing against your back as you retrieved the bottle, found two glasses, and returned to the room where he remained on the floor, waiting quietly with patience and two twinkling eyes.
You sank down beside him, close enough that your bare knees brushed against the denim stretched over his thighs. The cork slid free with a soft pop, the sound strangely intimate in the otherwise quiet room, and you poured the wine carefully into each glass, the liquid catching a blush of red as it swirled. When you offered his glass forward, his fingers grazed yours in the exchange, resting in their lingering, and the simple touch made your stomach clench far tighter than it had any right to.
He lifted his glass, eyes never leaving yours. “Cheers, doll,” he said, the nickname slipping off his tongue with ease, the way it always had, and when the glasses clinked, the sound seemed more stark than it should have, echoing in the space between you.
The first sip was warm, rich, and melted along your tongue. He leaned his head back against the wall, glancing at you sidelong with a smug, careless expression doing little to hide the intent in his pupils. “You’re not going to be late to that dinner of yours?”
You shook your head, swirling the wine in your glass, watching the surface slant before peeking at him again. “I wasn’t really looking forward to going. Honestly, I’d much rather stay here.”
Something flickered in his expression, a spark he smothered quickly under a chuckle. “What were you celebrating, anyway? Must’ve been something big if it meant dragging you out of the apartment in a dress that–” his eyes dropped briefly, unapologetically, before rising to meet yours again, “–looks like it was tailored onto you.”
You smiled, suppressing a scoff. “It was just a deal we signed with another company. Nothing I was strictly required to attend.”
“So you g’na tell them you were sick?” His lips curled around the words.
“I could,” you admitted, tilting your head, “and I probably will.”
The sound of his laugh rumbled in his chest. He turned his glass in his hands before taking another sip, then leaned his head back again, exhaling through his nose. “Shame for them, though,” he murmured, grinning, “they won’t get to see my doll all dolled up.”
Your breath caught, but you narrowed your eyes and matched his tone easily. “That’s fine. At least you got to see me.”
His grin dampened on his lips but not in his eyes. He paused, a flash of surprise quickly hidden, his jaw clenching briefly before he looked away, taking his time with his next sip. “Dangerous thing to say to me,” he said. He spoke in a mellow tone, even through the grit of his loitering wit.
You smirked into your glass. “You’ll live.”
His eyes snapped back to yours, and the air between you stilled almost imperceptibly. “You’re trouble,” he muttered, his gaze flicking down to your lips before returning to your eyes, “and you don’t even try to hide it.”
“You’re still here, so it doesn’t seem like you mind,” you countered, lifting an eyebrow.
His grin returned lazily. “I don’t,” he admitted, almost thoughtful, before his lips tugged further. “When it’s you, I think I like trouble.”
The words sank into you faster than the wine. For a heartbeat, you forgot how to breathe, your pulse tripping unevenly, and it felt as if your body didn’t quite know what to do with the sudden weight of his admission, playful though it was. You shifted slightly where you sat, the hem of your dress brushing against your thighs, and you tried to focus on the swirl of red at the bottom of your glass rather than the man watching you so intently beside you.
Perhaps it was the gentle buzz of alcohol, but you found yourself speaking before you could stop yourself.
“You know,” you said quietly, softer than your usual banter, “I really am grateful. For everything you do for me. You don’t have to, but you still always show up.”
He tilted his head, his lashes lowering as though he was trying to decide whether to make light of it, but you didn’t give him the chance. You placed your now-empty glass down on the floor on the other side of you, reached out, and let your fingers graze the ends of the hair at the nape of his neck.
The touch was simple, almost innocent, but the effect was anything but. His breath caught in the most imperceptible of ways, throat bobbing as he swallowed, and though he tried to mask the sudden tension in his body, you felt it waver under your hand.
“I feel like I should pay you somehow,” you added, fingertips skimming from the ends of his hair to the warm skin just at the base of his neck.
Hyunjin stilled, the glass halfway lifted to his lips before he finally tipped it back, draining the last sip as if it were needed armor. When he lowered it, his voice was firm. “I don’t want anything from you.”
“That's not fair–”
“No.”
“But–”
“No.”
Your hand might have retreated if not for the way he leaned into it, surrendering himself into your touch as though he’d been waiting for it all along. The strength of him, the sharpness of his jaw, the unruly softness of his hair between your fingers—it all came together with a kind of inevitability that made your chest ache in built-up anticipation. Encouraged, you threaded your fingers deeper into the strands, scratching your nails lightly at his scalp.
He closed his eyes briefly, his mouth parting, and when he opened them again, his pupils were wide, swallowing the warm brown into a dark chocolate. He looked at you with awe, as if the mere weight of your hand in his hair was liberating him, his lips tugging faintly between his usual grin and something far more vulnerable.
The silence sprawled on, until his voice broke it with a confession so plain, so unguarded, it sent a shock straight through you.
“Haven’t you ever considered that maybe I just want you?”
Your fingers froze mid-scratch. The words landed with the force of a blow, leaving your face blank as you scrambled to compose your inner self, to not let him see the way your chest had tightened or the way your breath had retreated from its post.
Hyunjin opened his mouth to add more, but you didn’t give him the chance.
For a fleeting second, he thought you might laugh, or scoff, or even slap him, the flash of your eyes unreadable, but when you leaned in, his breath left no room for comprehension as your lips molded upon his.
He carefully placed his emptied glass down beside him—he almost would’ve let it slip from his fingers from how off-guard you had caught him with your lips, but he wasn’t going to ruin your pretty drinkware. His hands immediately sought you, almost desperately, one sliding beneath the soft fabric of your dress to cup your thigh, the other reaching for your waist to drag you closer to him.
His biceps bulged when he shifted you over his lap, your dress slipping against the denim stretched over his thighs as you settled onto him in a straddle. He groaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating against your lips.
You hummed in response, your lips moving hungrily against his, and he matched you without hesitation, kissing you with eyebrows pinched painfully together. One calloused palm rubbed up your side to your back, rough fingers leaving trails of fire as he found the back of your neck, threading through your hair, urging you closer until there was no space left to close.
This should feel absurd, kissing your neighbour, your own personal handyman, but it was exhilarating. You had no idea just how bad you had wanted him—how bad your body longed for him—until your lips slotted against each other and hands gripped each other, whatever they could touch and hold.
You were soft, warm, intoxicating, and he wanted all of you, every inch and sound and breath. He pulled you flush against him, his other hand tightening at your waist until your chest pressed against his and—fuck, you’re not wearing a bra?
You shivered and broke the kiss to moan against his lips. He was hard beneath you, there was no mistaking it, the rough denim straining as he pulled you down onto him, greedy for the heat radiating through the thin barrier of your dress. The pressure made you arch and bite back a cry, his groan rumbling into your mouth as if the very sound was welded to your pulse.
His hands dragged you closer, sliding up from your waist until his palms cupped your breasts, squeezing them with a hunger that made your blood beat harder. The fabric of your dress was ruffled now, bunched beneath his fingers, and the lack of a bra—a reckless decision you had barely thought about—was driving him mad. His thumb pressed over your nipple through the cloth, and the sharp friction made your lips part with a gasp he swallowed, his tongue catching yours in a kiss both messy and deliberate.
He pulled back suddenly, lips glistening and breathing deeper. “Do you have any idea,” he murmured against your cheek, “what you’ve been doing to me all this time?”
The words made you shiver again, though he didn’t wait for your answer. His mouth found your neck, wet and hot, kissing, sucking, biting in quick succession as if he couldn’t decide which sensation he wanted you to suffer through more. Your head tipped back, helpless, giving him room, and the moan that spilled out was involuntary, humiliating in its rawness.
Your fingers threaded into his hair without thought, tugging lightly, guiding him, but he hardly needed encouragement. He licked a slow path down your throat to the swell of your breasts, pausing only to drag his teeth along your collarbone in a mark you already knew would bloom later. You felt his smirk against your skin as if he was entirely aware of the claim he was leaving behind.
Your dress slipped lower with each kiss until his mouth pressed over your breast, heat seeping through the thin fabric, his tongue circling your nipple until it peaked against the damp spot his lips left behind. You whimpered, tightening your hold on his hair as he drew you deeper into his mouth, sucking hard enough that your back arched further into him.
Your body had utterly surrendered to his touch. You were putty in his arms, his big, bulging arms that caged you to his front so perfectly. His big arms that had you wondering whether he’d lift and toss you on the bed, manhandling you into whatever position his dick was yearning for.
Hyunjin groaned in frustration because it wasn’t enough. The friction was mocking him rather than giving him what he wanted. He writhed in discontent beneath you, jerking up his hips, and the pressure of his cock through his jeans against your core made you cry out, rolling your hips down in response.
“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound ripped from his chest. His eyes peered up at you from where his mouth was still latched to your breast, pupils blown wide, gleaming with unrestraint. His grip on you tightened, fingers dipping into your spine as though daring you to move again.
You did. You slowly rocked your hips, dragging your core from the base of his denim-covered cock to the tip, feeling how hard he was even through layers of fabric. His entire body shuddered, his groan breaking into something darker, almost pained, and you knew you had undone him.
“Do you have any idea how long you’ve had me bricked up?” he muttered, smirking at his own confession and pulling away from your chest only long enough to speak before biting lightly over the other breast, sucking your nipple through the dress until you swore your body would combust.
Your head spun, blood beating rampantly in your veins, and still he wasn’t satisfied. He pulled away entirely, panting, hair messy from your fists in it, and peeked at the floor beneath you with contempt. “Not here,” he murmured hoarsely, “I– shit, can’t have you how I want here.”
Before you could process, his arms were wrapping around you, strong and determined, lifting you up with him. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, your breath hitching at the sheer effortlessness of it, at the sensation of his cock pressing directly against your core in the new position. He grinned at your reaction, lips brushing yours in a kiss too brief and taunting.
He dropped you onto the mattress with a carelessness that was not cruel but desperate, his body already covering yours before you had time to adjust. His mouth returned to yours in a kiss that tasted of urgency and hunger, his hands sliding up your thighs, over your hips, until they cupped your breasts again, as though he couldn’t bear to let go of them for even a moment.
Your dress was pulled higher, your thighs bare to the cool air of the room, and his hips pressed down, denim rough against your soaked core. He rolled into you once, then over and over, his teeth sucking at your bottom lip as he groaned into your mouth and cursed softly against your neck, every sound from him making you ache from exactly where he needed you.
His restraint was fraying, you could feel it in the tremor of his hands and desperate way he pressed his hips harder against you. Yet, even now, he took his time, his tongue circling, teasing, claiming, leaving you on the verge of begging. And still, all you could do was hold him closer, your fists tangled in his hair, eyelashes fluttering, body arching into every touch, every kiss, every grind of his hips that promised more than either of you could stand to wait for.
“Hyunjin–”
“Yeah?” he answered back, breathing heavily and pressing his forehead to yours.
You whined, tugging at his t-shirt.
Hyunjin let out a ragged breath, his chest heaving. “Ah, shit.” He reeled back from you, his hair mussed, lips kiss-bruised, eyes dark and wild, and tried to ignore the way his cock jerked at the sight of you sprawled on the bed, your dress sliding dangerously low over your shoulders.
His fingers gripped the back collar of his shirt, tugging it over his head in one smooth pull that left his torso bare, lean muscle stretching and flexing in a way that made your thighs squeeze together without you meaning to. Your legs felt weak just looking at him, your stomach flipping with every inch of golden skin he revealed. His jeans hung low, riding down his hips, boxers peeking just enough to tease before he shoved both down in one go.
His cock sprang free, flushed and hard and glistening along the tip, thick veins straining, the sheer sight of it enough to send heat pooling at your core. Hyunjin caught your eyes flickering down, and his tongue darted across his lips—he knew exactly what the sight did to you.
“Fuck,” he muttered, more to himself than you, his voice husky from having been slotting his tongue against yours not too long ago, before he leaned forward again and hooked his fingers under the straps of your dress, sliding it down your body.
He tried not to show how his cock twitched at the sight of your breasts bared, but the sharp exhale that escaped him had braced all the hot pressure that was building at the pit of his stomach. He didn’t dawdle, tugging the dress away until you lay there in nothing but your panties, blushed and messy-haired, your pouty lips parted to let the quick string of breaths out from the confines beneath your heaving breasts.
Hyunjin froze for a moment, swallowing hard, eyes roving over you and trying to control the way the sight was making him almost feral. His chest rose and fell like he was composing himself, but it was already useless; he was wrecked beyond repair.
“You don’t even know,” he whispered, leaning down again, brushing his lips across yours in a kiss that was soft despite the frantic hunger of moments before. His hand slid across your stomach, fingers toying with the waistband of your panties, tracing the elastic. “Tell me what you want.”
You writhed, clutching at his broad shoulders. “Anything, Hyunjin– just anything. I’m so wet for you, I can’t–”
His forehead dropped to your shoulder, and he let out a broken, desperate groan, the sound so raw it nearly had you cumming right then and there.
“Fuck, don’t say that,” He whispered, his hand slid down further, the pads of his fingers pressing against the soaked cotton of your panties. He felt the damp heat immediately and nearly lost it.
But he had lost it.
He had. He was so far gone, so taken by you, he was convinced the night would never end and he’d have you like this until time fizzled into oblivion.
His voice cracked when he spoke again. “Shit, you’re– soaked.” He breathed slowly for a few beats. “You know how many times I’ve thought about you like this? And now…” His sentence dissolved into another curse, whispered into your skin.
You whimpered against his temple, the ends of his hair tickling your cheek, squirming your hips against his palm. “Take it off, Hyune.”
He wastes no time hooking his fingers into the waistband of your soaked panties, tugging slowly, dragging them down your legs until it was discarded ball of fabric with a wet splotch, leaving you utterly naked before him.
The sight confiscated the air from his lungs. His cock throbbed so fucking hard at the vision of your slick pooling between your thighs, proof of just how badly you wanted him too, and his jaw clenched as though the sheer need pained him.
“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, rubbing his lips along your knee, your inner thigh. God, he’d thought of you like this so many times. He’d thought of you, his pretty neighbour, his doll in distress, sprawled atop the sheets of a bed, legs spread for no one but him, your core slick-sheened and dampening the sheets for no one but him.
When he sank between your legs and pulled your thighs over his shoulders, the scent of your arousal hit him so hard, he nearly whimpered and salivated like a Pavlovian dog, dragging in a breath through his nose as if your heady scent was the only oxygen he’d need for the rest of his damned life.
“Need’a taste you,” he mumbled, lips fluttering over your folds and making you squirm at the lack of contact.
“Jinnie,” you whimpered.
And whimpered once again, after you felt the chaste kiss he gifted your clit.
“Taste so google, doll,” he panted between licks, his voice shaking. “Do you know how many nights I’ve fucked my fist thinking about sucking on this pretty cunt? About making you feel good, hearing you moan for me?” His words spilled hotly, desperate—the wit had left him. “I’d do anything for this, anything for you. Just let me make you come on my tongue.”
Hyunjin’s mouth moved with a hunger that was nothing short of feral, his lips sealing against you in a messy kiss that had your thighs trembling against his shoulders. He licked at your folds, sliding his tongue between them, tasting you with greed, tongue dipping and circling before laving flat against your nub, doing everything to draw little gasps from your lips because they kept pushing him further.
The only sounds filling your room were your whines and whimpers, Hyunjin’s groans muffled in your heat, and the wet, slick squelches of his tongue burning itself in you, his lips sealing over your bud and sucking, the kisses and licks he gave your clit.
“God, you’re unreal,” he muttered, dragging his tongue over you again before sucking hard at your clit, his cheeks hollowing with the effort.
Your fingers threaded into his hair, gripping onto his messy strands when his tongue pressed firmer. The sound that tore from his chest was a groan-turned-whine, his hips rutting into the bed as if even the friction of his cock against the duvet wasn’t enough. He ground himself down again and again, his cock leaking against the fabric.
One long finger flit against your entrance, sliding in easily through the slick mess he had already made of you. You clenched helplessly around him, and he moaned so loudly it almost startled you, pulling away from your clit to mutter against your skin. “Tight– fuck, you’re so tight around my finger, I might– aah, I might cum before I even get inside you.”
He kissed your thigh, nipped at it, then sucked at your clit again, his finger curling deep inside until you were gasping.
“Hyunjin–”
“Yeah, baby, I’ve got you,” he said quickly, voice rough, before sucking harder, the obscene sounds of his mouth slurping at you filling the room. His hips rutted down against the sheets in frantic rhythm with his tongue, his need consuming him whole.
He slid in another finger, stretching you, filling you, working them both in time with his mouth until you were writhing, grinding up into his face and messing his hair with your fists.
“N-nngh—Hyune, need you.”
“Yeah? Need me?” He smirked against you. “You need me?”
When he looked up at you, he thought he might cum from the sight alone.
You’re panting, breasts heaving with each breath that escapes you. Your lips are glazed over and still puffy from your makeout. Your eyebrows are knotted together, cheeks flushed, temples sheening with sweat, and your eyes—gosh, your angel eyes are so, so fucked-out.
“What do you need, baby?” he taunted, finger pushing at the gummy end of your hole, making you roll your hips and give him a desperate look.
“Need you inside,” you whined.
Hyunjin’s smirk widened, his fingers still relentless inside your walls. “Hmm, I think you’ll need to be a little more specific, doll.”
You whimpered a bratty hmph, scrunching your eyebrows together and rolling your head back before you peered down at him again.
He gazed at you, amused, fingers pumping. His thumb came up to rub at your clit just to tease you a little more. When you didn't say anything, he raised his eyebrows, and you mewled in defeat.
“I– fuck, Hyunjin, put your dick in me. Fuck me, please.”
Hyunjin ripped his fingers from your core, grabbed your hips, and flipped you onto your stomach, pulling at your hips until they lifted over the edge of your bed and your toes pressed into the floor.
His thumbs slid up the insides of your thighs and pulled at the glistening lips surrounding your cunt.
“Fuck, you’re a mess,” he marveled, voice shaking, catching some of your slick on his thumb and dragging it over the swollen tip of his cock. He smeared it over himself with a hiss through his teeth, gaping at the way it shined along his length. “So pretty like this, bent over for me, soaked for me.”
He hoisted your hips further up when you arched back into him with a moan. You rolled your hips in his hands and peeked back at him over your shoulder.
“Fuck me hard, Jinnie.”
He snapped his eyes to yours, his chest heaving, his tongue darting out to wet his slick-coated lips, trying his best not to cum at the sound of those words in your voice.
“Say it again.”
“Fuck me, Hyunjin.”
“Again.”
“Fuck me, please. Fuck me so hard, Jinnie, I’ll–”
Hyunjin slammed into you, cutting your words short. Your mouth hung open in a broken moan, and your cheek fell against the sheets of your bed. It mattered not whether your makeup smudged along the comforter. In fact, nothing mattered, apart from the hard, veiny drag of Hyunjin’s cock along your tight, hot walls.
“Mmm, shit,” he choked out. “Fucking tight– God.”
It took everything in Hyunjin to pull out, watching his cock glisten with your wetness, before rutting back into you harder, rubbing at your hip with one hand while sliding the other down your back to grip your waist.
He thrusted in and out of you, his cock squelching along your wet walls. Little gasps and whimpers slipped from your lips and buried into the sheets, his groans filling the room with each drag of his cock.
The hand on your waist slid up your back, his fingers running through your hair before he leaned down, chest flush to your spine, and kissed along your neck, wet open-mouthed kisses smearing heat into your skin. The grip on your waist never dimmed in strength, pulling you back into each thrust, rutting harder, deeper, until you were squirming beneath him
“How long have you wanted this?” He mumbled into your neck, thrusting deep into you and clasping his fingers along the base of your skull. “Is this why you kept calling me over, hm? Wanted to see what I looked like all hot and sweaty for you, yeah?”
You whined and jerked your hips back into him, nodding pathetically with the will of half your mind—the other half had long been sucked out of you.
He rubbed the nape of your neck with so much delicacy it was almost a contradiction, at odds with the way his cock kept battering into you with ruthless precision. The hand in your hair snaked along your back, around your torso, sliding up the front of your warm body to grab the base of your neck. He drilled into you again and again, his words dirty against your neck and seemingly never ending.
“Taking me so well, baby, fuck. You’re so good for me, my pretty doll.”
“Feel that? Feel how hard you made me? It’s all for you, just for you.”
“G’na fuck you full with my load. You want that? Want me to fuck a baby in you?”
“Yes, Jinnie—mmph, please,” you whimpered into the sheets at his last words, your reply so fast and frantic it had Hyunjin’s eyes rolling back into his head, his jaw flexing as he groaned.
“Yeah?”
He needed to see you. He needed to see your face, your lips parted in an oh, eyes glazing over with a coat of tears that might spill at any given thrust. He wanted to see what he was doing for you, wanted so desperately—yearned—to watch you beautiful you looking breaking apart under him.
He reeled back from you, slid his hand down your back, and gripped your hips with both hands before pulling out of your cunt with a wet drag and flipping you onto your back again, your body pliant beneath his grip.
He wasted no time filling you full with his cock again, watching your face at the exact moment the head slipped back in, almost shaking at seeing how good it made you feel. Your legs wrapped him closer to you when he leaned down and smashed his lips to yours. He tasted of your arousal and nothing but.
He flattened his hand against your back, curving you into his chest, groaning when your breasts pressed into him, the feeling of your hardened nipples rubbing along his chest making him rut harder. Then, he grabbed onto your hip so he could really start pounding into you.
The squelch of your walls around his pumping cock filled the room, and your little sounds serenaded the fibres in his ears. His hot, open mouth rested against the base of your neck, his wreaked moans sinking into your warm skin. Your hands were in his already unkempt hair, nails digging into his neck and scraping over his upper back.
He snapped his hips, squeezed onto yours, and ground his dick deeper into you. His tip grazed your g-spot, and you clenched around him, trying to keep him in, trying to make him stay there and rut into your spot over and over until you were coming undone for him and only him. You squeezed your legs around him, attempting to bury him further into you.
“Big.”
He looked at you, into your half-open eyes, the way your lips part after weakly moaning out the singular syllable.
“Yeah? It’s big?” He panted, a curl in the corner of his lips, adoration submerging his eyes. You nodded at him, a knot deepening between your eyebrows. “You’re taking it so good, though, baby. Taking me so fucking good.”
His fingers wreathed through your hair, the pad of his thumb is circling over your hip bone, and he mumbled incoherent praises against the supple skin of your neck.
The hand on your hip smoothed over your lower stomach, his palm pressing into it when he pounded into your g-spot again. You whimpered at the friction of his tip against your sweet spot, gripping whatever part of him you could get your hands on—his shoulders, his biceps, anything.
He slid his hand further down, his fingers pushing your swollen clit out from under its hood, and rubbed a languid circle down into your nub.
That was all it took for you to feel the pressure rippling in the core of your being.
“You’re clenching down so hard on me, baby, shit,” he groaned, pulling his head back to watch your face. “You’re cumming? You gonna cream on my dick?”
“Yes—yeah,” you moaned, your eyebrows scrunching tight, staring into his dark, chasmic, heavy-lidded gaze.
“Cum, baby. Cum for me, and I’ll fill you up so good. I’ll fuck my seed so far into you, I promise– shit.”
His words were all it took to have you clenching down onto his dick rhythmically, the pressure exploding in your core and ripping through you until you spasmed against his frame and dug your head back into the pillow.
Hyunjin plastered his forehead along your bare neck when his own orgasm threw him over the edge just after yours, after feeling the way your walls tightly hugged along his length over and over again, abs tightening and spurting his seed deep into you, coating your walls white hot, adhering to the promise he’d made just moments ago. He groaned the most beautiful, broken sound against your skin before his muscles relaxed and he hovered his face above yours, panting heavily against your lips.
You could feel how hot his cum was inside you, how full you were with his seed and slowly softening dick still buried deep inside you, plugging you full with everything he’d given you.
Your breaths leveled out together, Hyunjin giving you the softest kisses as you both calmed down.
Your hands drifted along his bulging biceps that caged you in, along the contours of his shoulders until you had a hand wrapping along his neck, the other pushing at the messied hair that spiked over his forehead.
He gazed at you with the warmest of eyes before a boyish grin lit up his face. You couldn’t help but smile back up at him, still full with his cum and softened dick.
“You should come fix things spontaneously more often,” your voice wisped against his cheeks, so soft and hoarse. He laughed, eyes twinkling, crinkling at the angel beneath him.
“I should keep you from work dinners more often.”
In the comfortable silence that passed with the both of you smiling at each other, Hyunjin decided he was going to stay buried in you like this for the rest of his life. Then, you wouldn’t need him to fix anything ever again. He wouldn't need to show up with his bitchass toolbox and tattered jeans, hoping to see you smile at him, pleased at the work he did for his doll. Although, to his dismay, he knew he couldn’t stay buried in you forever, because—
“Can I take you out to dinner sometime?"
Hyunjin finally grew a pair. He even felt them slap against the backs of your thighs.
Maybe all he needed was to work his doll in a different way.
৬ৎ 𝑙𝑒𝑒'𝑠 𝑝𝘰𝑠𝘵𝑙𝑢𝑑𝑒 ࿐ reblog, comment, slide into my inbox !! please let me how i did, it'll make me happy :D (i have a praise kink)
a/n: hyunjin debut on this blog! tysm for this request and for giving me the chance to write him for the first time. and let me tell you, i loved writing him so vocal and worshipping. don’t get me started on writing the choking kink they asked for, because why did i just discover new things about myself while writing this? lmao. anyways, i hope you enjoy this short but filthy hyunjin fic! <3
the movie was half background noise already. some silly romcom neither of you were genuinely watching, the tv light flickering over the two of you as you sprawled on the couch like you always did.
your legs were tangled, a popcorn bowl abandoned on the coffee table while recorded laughter from the screen made you giggle. it was the kind of lazy friday night that felt like home simply because it was beside him.
hyunjin had one arm thrown over the back of the sofa, long fingers dangling near your shoulder. he was loose in an oversized black tee and sweatpants, his hair slightly messy as he kept glancing down at you instead of the screen, smiling here and there like he knew something you didn’t.
“you’re so cute,” he murmured, his voice fond as he leaned in until his breath hit your cheek. “you’ve been tearing up ever since they split up. always sooo sensitive,” he cooed, chuckling low.
“i’m not-” you tried to defend yourself, frowning deeply.
his fingers found your side without warning, deliberately digging in right under your breasts, exactly where he knew you were ticklish. you jerked and tried to twist away, making hyunjin burst into laughter.
you laughed loudly, covering your mouth with one hand while shoving him with the other. the remote controller slid from your lap to the floor, the blanket following the same faith. neither of you cared enough to do something about it.
“hyunjin- stop! fuck- get off!” your voice came out breathy, your eyes squeezing shut every time his fingers found a sensitive spot.
“make me,” he teased, laughing harder with both hands on you now, merciless and playful.
you were laughing too, breathless and helpless as you tried to shove his wrists away. the couch cushions shifted under you, scattering a few stray popcorn. you scrambled up onto your knees to gain leverage, and he just kept going, delighted, his eyes bright.
so, without any other option left, you climbed over him.
you straddled his lap in one clumsy rush, your knees bracketing his hips as you shoved your hands against his chest to pin him back into the couch. he was still laughing, his head tipped back, and his throat completely exposed. and without thinking, just as a simple joke to shut him up, you wrapped one hand lightly around his neck and pressed him down.
it wasn’t harsh. if anything, it was a light, playful hold, your thumb resting against the side of his throat while your fingers curved under his jaw.
“got you,” you breathed, grinning down at him. “who’s laughing now, huh?”
but the laugh died instantly in his throat.
what came out instead was a soft, high, broken little sound that made you jolt in surprise. a moan slipped from his lips, cracking into a breathless, startled whine. his eyes fluttered, rolling back for a second while his hips twitched upward under you like he’d been shocked.
the sound was so quiet it almost didn’t exist, but you felt it vibrate directly under your palm.
everything stopped. the movie kept playing in the background, some deep, trashy dialogue neither of you heard or cared about.
hyunjin stared up at you with wide, dark eyes, his puffy lips parted and his chest rising far too fast to be normal. a dark flush crawled up his neck under your hand, making him shudder beneath your weight.
he didn’t push you off or laugh it away. he simply stayed there, letting you feel his throat working under your fingers, his adam’s apple bobbing shakily.
“…do that again,” he whispered, his voice suddenly raw and lewd.
your pulse hammered in your ears as you blinked rapidly. “hyunjin, i- shit… sorry, i didn’t mean to… let me just-”
“please,” the word cracked, making you snap your gaze back to him. he swallowed, and you felt it vividly. “i- fuck. i don’t know how to say this, but…” his hands found your waist, gripping hard enough to bruise. “don’t let go. please, don’t let go.”
the air between you grew heavy and thick, the playful tickling fight evaporating like it had never existed. you were still straddling his lap, intensely aware of him getting hard underneath you, pressing up against the fabric of your shorts, and the way his breath hitched when you shifted made heat pool low in your stomach.
you tightened your grip the slightest bit, and another broken sound punched out of him. this time it was higher, desperate. his head tipped back further into the cushion, exposing more of his throat like an offering. his mouth went slack on a shaky exhale.
“oh, my god,” you breathed, half-amused and completely turned on.
“yeah,” he rasped, a ruined smile blooming on his lips. “yeah, fuck- just like that. you’re- you’re so pretty like this. looking down at me. using me.” his hands slid up under your shirt, his palms hot on your bare skin as his thumbs stroked your waist. “i’ve wanted this for so long... didn’t know how to say it without ruining- ah, shit-”
you squeezed again, gentle but firm. enough pressure to make his breath catch and his eyes glaze over. you were testing his limits, still reeling from his visceral response.
he moaned loudly, full and shameless this time. his hips rolled up against you in a helpless grind, his hard cock dragging against your core with absolutely necessity. the friction made you gasp, biting your lip to hide your own arousal. he chased it instantly, grinding up harder, his hands gripping your hips to pull you down onto him.
“feels so good,” he panted, his eyes half-lidded. “you feel so good already, and we’re not even- fuck... ride me just like this. use my lap. i’m yours. i’m so fucking yours.”
you couldn’t resist it anymore. you leaned forward, crashing your mouth against his to shut him up. his words were scrambling your thoughts. he melted into the kiss with a desperate whine, his lips parting for you instinctively.
the kiss wasn’t soft. it was all teeth and tongue, years of almost-something finally breaking under the weight of a silly mistake. he kissed you like he was starving, like he’d been waiting his entire life to be ruined by you specifically.
and when you bit down on his lower lip, he whimpered into your mouth and ground up recklessly, the stiff line of his cock sliding against your clit through too many annoying layers of fabric that made him groan in frustration.
your free hand fisted in his long hair, while the one on his throat stayed pressing down enough to make him arched his back, the pleasure becoming nearly impossible to handle.
“take these off,” he begged against your mouth, tugging frantically at your shorts. “please, sweetie- need to feel you. need to be inside you. i’ll be so good. i’ll tell you how perfect you are while you choke me and fuck me. please, please-”
you nodded lazily, lifting just enough for him to shove your shorts and panties down your thighs in a clumsily rush. he yanked his own sweatpants low, his cock springing free to slap his covered stomach. it was thick and flushed, shining with precum.
he hissed when the cool air hit him, moaning louder when you wrapped your hand around him for one slow, heavy stroke just to feel the weight of him. you licked your lips, anticipating how incredible it would feel to have him pounding inside you.
“shit- your hand- you’re so good with your hands. everything about you. ah, fuck- i can feel you… so wet already. so warm- fuck, i need to be inside you.”
biting your lip, you lined him up with shaky hands. no condom, just the blunt head of him pressing against your slick entrance. the way his whole body trembled when he felt how soaked you were made you chuckle softly.
“yes,” he breathed, his voice dripping with filth. “yes, yes, take me- take all of me…”
you sank down slowly at first, enjoying him inch by inch. you threw your head back, gasping for air, stretching around him until he was buried to the hilt. both of you were shaking, and you swore under your breath when you felt him twitch inside you.
he made a wrecked sound that cracked into a sob of pure pleasure, his hands flying to your hips, his fingers digging deep in your warm flesh for support.
“holy fuck, you’re tight- ah… so perfect around me. you were made for this. look at you taking me so well already,” his voice was a mess, high and low at once, all words tumbling out between gasps. “please move. ride me. use my cock. choke me while you do it.”
you started to move your hips, rolling them deliberately before settling a vicious pattern of lifting and dropping, finding a rhythm that made him throw his head back with every downward stroke.
your hand remained around his throat every second of it, keeping a steady pressure that rolled his eyes back and dropped his jaw open every time you tightened your fingers on the upstroke.
“there- oh, fuck yes… right there,” he was babbling now. “you feel incredible. i’m so deep i can feel you clenching- shit, you look so fucking beautiful like this. riding me. owning me,” he was far gone, muttering incoherences. “my best friend with her hand on my throat and my cock inside her…”
you leaned down and kissed him again, messy and open-mouthed, still rolling your hips in a dirty grind that dragged your clit relentlessly against his pelvis. he met every movement, thrusting up to meet you, punching breathy moans straight out of you.
his hands shoved your shirt up, and you lifted your arms for him to yank it off and toss it somewhere. immediately, his palms cupped your tits with devotion, his thumbs brushing your nipples until they peaked hard.
he leaned up as much as your grip on his throat would allow, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and sucking greedily, his tongue swirling while his teeth grazed just enough to make you cry out and grind down harder.
“taste so good,” he mumbled against your skin before switching to the other, sucking a possessive mark into the soft underside. “they feel so good in my hands. god… i love every part of you. your body. your voice. the way you look when you’re using me. everything.”
you tightened your grip on his throat and rode him harder, the pace turning feral enough to make you both lose your minds. the wet, desperate sound of your sweaty skin slapping mixed with his high-pitched moans and prayers were making your head spin.
he was so fucking vocal, always gasping your name and praising you, telling you how good you felt, how deep you were taking him. how he’d dreamed about this every single night, how often he’d jerk off imagining your hands on him just like this.
it was too much. you could feel your own climax starting to build up in your lower abdomen. the constant drag of your clit against his pelvis and how he hit your cervix so perfectly were driving you to the edge.
“harder,” he begged mercilessly, sounding almost pathetic. “choke me harder, i swear i can take it- wanna feel you while i come. oh, fuck- wanna fill you up. please let me come inside you. raw. i want it dripping out of you after. wanna know i was there…”
you gave him more pressure without hesitation, making his breath hitch and his eyes go glassy and blissed-out. his hands scrambled over your whole body, roaming from your tits and waist to your ass, pulling you down onto every thrust like he needed to be as deep as humanly possible.
“you’re perfect,” he choked out. “so perfect. so good to me. taking my cock so well. riding me like you fucking own me. yes, you do. i’m yours. this cock is yours. this throat is yours.”
the coil in your gut snapped tight. you were close, grinding down relentlessly, chasing your release desperately. and when he felt the way you clenched around him, his praise turned frantic.
“come on me. come on my cock. i want to feel you squeeze me. want to watch your face when you do it. bet you’re so pretty when you come,” his eyes rolled back, his teeth sinking into his lips when a broken whimper came out. “show me. show me how good i make you feel-”
you couldn’t hold back anymore. you came with a long, loud moan, your thighs shaking around his waist while your hand clamped tighter on his throat as pleasure ripped through you. he followed you almost instantly, pushed over the edge by the restriction on his neck and the pulsing heat around his shaft with a wrecked, needy cry.
his hips slammed upward one more time, spilling hot and thick deep inside you, pulse after pulse, filling you while he shook and whimpered, kept thrusting through it like he couldn’t stop.
“fuck, yeah- taking all of me so good,” his voice cracked fully. “so full of me. you’re so good. i love you. i- fuck. i love you so much.”
you finally loosened your hold on his neck, and he let out a soft whimper at the loss of the pressure.
drawing in a ragged breath, he pulled you down against his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly while his cock was still buried inside you. both of you were trembling, his heartbeat hammering right under your ear.
he pressed messy kisses into your hair, your temple, and your cheek, murmuring praise like he was incapable of stopping.
“you’re incredible. that was… fuck. you’re everything i wanted. everything. stay like this. stay on me. please, don’t move yet. i want to feel you full of me a little longer.”
his fingers stroked lazy, grounding patterns down your spine as you glanced up at the movie credits rolling down the screen. you shifted slightly, trying to stabilize your erratic breathing.
after a long and quiet minute, he tipped your chin up and kissed you softly, still half-hard inside you, looking at you like he was ready to begin round two the exact moment you recovered.
“next time,” he whispered against your mouth, his voice hoarse and completely devoted, “you can choke me harder. and in return, i’ll tell you how perfect you are the whole time you do it.”
his thumb brushed your lower lip, his eyes roaming your tired but fulfilled expression with a mischievous, wicked smile.
“best friends movie night,” he laughed quietly, fondly, and utterly ruined. “yeah. we’re never going back from this.”
𓏲੭ ˒ you were supposed to be his muse. turns out you were his obsession.
pairing: manga artist!hyunjin x f!reader, roommates to lovers ? genre/tags: college au, smut, mentions of masturbation, soft dom!hyunjin, fingering, some degradation/praise kink, orgasm control, unprotected s*x, creampie words: 4.8k (this was supposed to be shorter idk what happened lmaoo)
[ note. ] — uhhh surprise, i’m back….? (we’ll see how long this’ll last) but i’ve had this idea in my brain for a while now and i js finished it so i’m hoping you guys enjoy this one ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!
cross posted to AO3
you don’t even remember how you ended up roommates with hyunjin. maybe someone dropped the ball in housing. it’s possible your brain skipped over the part of the application that said co-ed artist dorms only. or it could just be the universe decided you were getting a little too comfortable with life and needed to be humbled, violently.
either way, it’s been six months.
and at this point, hyunjin’s presence is as constant and familiar as the hum of your desk fan. always there, in the background— sketching, scribbling, perpetually shirtless, sprawled out like a tragic oil painting across your shared living room floor in a sea of crumpled paper, tangled wires, pastel smudges, and broken pencil tips. graphite dust clings to his fingers, to his cheekbones, to the cuffs of his sweats like he’s more sketch than human.
he mumbles under his breath about deadlines and “noodle anatomy,” so softly you almost think you imagined it. at other times, he just stares at the ceiling, unmoving, as if some divine inspiration might drip down from the drywall. and every now and then, he groans so dramatically it sounds like he’s dying, only for you to find out he’s just trying to draw a bent knee.
he’s quiet. not shy, and not in a way that makes you feel obligated to fill the silence. just… contained. coiled. the kind of quiet that holds weight— his thoughts are vivid and volatile, too loud to voice, so he seals them between the pages of his sketchbooks. it’s safer that way. nothing escapes. nothing catches fire.
you’ve never seen him bring anyone home.
not once. not even after those late-night figure drawing classes, or the weekend studio exhibitions where people tend to get a little too wine drunk and giggly. you’ve never heard him talk about crushes or hookups or even eye someone on the quad. never even caught him flirting. he barely acknowledges strangers in passing, doesn’t register compliments from the girls who sometimes stop to peek through the dorm windows and whisper about “that one hot art guy.”
he doesn’t go out much either, never really parties, barely shows up to campus events, and treats grocery runs like hostile field missions. most of the time, he’s holed up in his room with the door cracked open, back hunched over his tablet or sketchpad, headphones in, eyes glazed over with focus.
there are moments he doesn’t respond when you speak. you’ll knock, pass his room more than once, and the only hint he’s still breathing is the dim glow of his monitor. you pause, staring in, wondering— not for the first time— how long he’s been cooped up in there. whether he’s eaten. whether he’s slept. whether he’s working on something normal, or… something else entirely.
because you know what he draws.
he told you. casually. one night, when you were both cross-legged on the floor, splitting leftover takeout and surrounded by plastic chopsticks and empty bubble tea cups. you asked what his senior portfolio theme was, expecting something pretentious, or maybe poetic.
“manga,” he said, chewing absently.
“oh, cool,” you replied. “what genre?”
“ecchi.”
you raise a brow, confused. “…what’s that?”
he looked up slowly, eyes wide, expression borderline unreadable. “tasteful porn.”
you immediately choked on your noodles.
and that was that.
you never brought it up again. but the image of him calmly saying “tasteful porn” with the straightest face lives in your head rent free. still makes your ears burn if you think about it too long.
what’s worse is that you shouldn’t even be surprised.
but you were. maybe because hyunjin doesn’t quite fit the mold of some guy who spends most his nights hunched over his tablet, painstakingly rendering the way sheer fabric sticks to flushed skin. the way lips part, the way spines arch. he’s too pretty, ethereal even— too clean to be that filthy in private. soft jawline, delicate wrists, lips always stained pink from strawberry pocky. he uses cherry blossom shampoo. wears fuzzy socks. once, you caught him microwaving hot chocolate at two in the morning while humming the sailor moon theme song under his breath.
by all logic, he should be drowning in girls. flirty art majors, clumsy lit students, curious econ girls who like the idea of a mysterious artist boyfriend. he should have people throwing themselves at him, sliding into his dms, leaving their numbers on napkins.
but he’s not.
and maybe, just maybe, that’s because hyunjin is a total, certified goon.
the type of guy who probably jerks off to his own hentai panels with one hand in his sweats and the other still holding his apple pencil so he can make edits mid-stroke.
the type who’s too obsessed with his imaginary girls to even look at a real one.
and unfortunately for you— you’re one of them.
+
you agreed to model for his senior art portfolio last month.
he’d asked you during one of your late-night kitchen run-ins, voice low and uncertain, sketchpad balanced on one knee while he waited for his ramen to finish spinning in the microwave.
“it’s not explicit explicit,” he said, peeking up at you from under his lashes, his thumb absently smudging the corner of a half-finished eye on the page. “it’s more suggestive. tasteful.” his tone wavered between hopeful and rehearsed, like he’d been planning to ask you for a while but hadn’t quite worked up the nerve until now.
“think… moody lighting,” he added, as if that would somehow soften the blow. “lace. maybe a garter belt.”
you blinked. “a garter belt?” the words came out with an airy laugh, light and teasing, a little incredulous but not entirely opposed.
he didn’t flinch. instead, he perked up with faux earnestness, flipping his pencil between his fingers like a conductor’s baton, brows lifted in dramatic flourish. “it’s for the drama,” he insisted, as if that explained anything at all. as if drama alone justified sketching someone in lingerie.
yet somehow… you ended up agreeing.
you needed the extra cash, your campus job barely covered groceries, and your last textbook rental had drained what little remained in your savings. but part of you was flattered, too. no one had ever asked to draw you before, and definitely not like that.
but if you were really being honest, a small part of you liked the way he looked at you when you posed.
he made you feel like art. something worth preserving, not just for the shape of your body or the softness of your skin, but for the way you existed in stillness. the rhythm of your breath, the curve of your spine, the light pooling into the hollows of your collarbones. he watched with quiet fixation, eyes moving from page to skin, jaw clenched in concentration, and everytime his pencil scratched against the paper, it’d sent a phantom shiver down your spine.
he made you feel beautiful.
you hadn’t realized you were making a mistake.
not until tonight, when he’d left for his night class and you were rummaging behind his desk in search of your charger, the one you always forgot in his room. you’d been reaching behind a pile of books and folders when your elbow bumped something, knocking it to the floor with a dull, soft thud.
a sketchbook.
black, unmarked, a little worn around the edges. it didn’t look important or any different from the others he always left lying around. you bent down without thinking, planning to toss it back where it came from.
but it had fallen open.
you froze. you told yourself you wouldn’t look, that it wasn’t yours to see.
and then you looked anyway.
curiosity, or something worse, pulled you toward the page.
and there you were.
not soft. not modest. not the dimly lit, “tasteful” pose you’d assumed he’d capture.
you were drawn sprawled out, every inch of you on display. legs spread wide, toes curling into fabric you recognized as your own sheets. your back arched off a pillow from your bed. one hand gripping the edge of the blanket. the other buried deep between your thighs. your face was flushed, lips parted, eyes hazy, mouth frozen in a moan that felt way too specific to be imagined.
and it was detailed. painfully so.
you could see the shading where sweat would gather. the tension in your calves. the wrinkle in your brow. your own hair drawn strand by strand, fanned out like a halo.
your stomach flipped. heat bloomed somewhere low and unsteady.
you turned the page, almost on instinct, heart already pounding.
there were more.
you on your knees, spine arched, wrists tucked behind your back. your head tilted at just the right angle to show off your throat, the delicate notch above your collarbone. the lingerie you wore last week— sheer lace cups, dainty silk bows, garters clipped to thigh-highs—recreated in uncanny, microscopic detail. every clasp, dimple in your skin, subtle ripple of imagined pleasure inked in with a hunger that felt… dangerous.
you stared at the pages, transfixed. breath caught somewhere in your chest, hands beginning to tremble. you hadn’t meant to look, hadn’t planned to turn the first page, let alone the second… but once you did, you couldn’t stop. every drawing felt intimate, obsessive, memorized. the way he rendered you with such aching precision—each curve of your body, every fold of lace, every imagined tremble of your thighs, made it nearly impossible to look away.
it was clear he hadn’t just sketched you from reference; he’d studied you, remembered you. poured hours into capturing the parting of your mouth when you sigh, the subtle shift of your hips in that particular set of lingerie, the way your body folds, stretches, and exists on the page, alive and familiar.
you were still staring when you heard the jingle of his keys at the door. your heart clenched instantly, breath stuttering as you snapped upright, hands suddenly clammy and slick with heat. your thighs instinctively pressed together before you could stop yourself. there was panic, yes, caught red-handed with something you were never meant to see— but tangled beneath it, humming in your veins like a low, slow current, was something far darker. not dread or guilt. something warmer. hungrier. the realization bloomed slowly and thickly at the back of your throat, and you swallowed it down like a secret; what you felt wasn’t entirely fear. it was want.
the door clicks open behind you, followed by the soft creak of the hinge, the muted scuff of sneakers hitting hardwood, and some more indistinct shuffling near the entryway as he drops his things. hyunjin steps inside, expression dulled with exhaustion, shoulders loose, hoodie slipping off one side of his frame. he moves like he always does after a long day— quiet, fluid, like he’s still half inside his head.
until he sees what’s in your lap.
his sketchbook.
his secret.
you.
he halts mid-step.
for a second, he doesn’t say anything. no words, no movement, not even a blink. his eyes trace the shape of the moleskin cover, the way your fingers are curled around the edge of a page, your gaze is wide and locked onto his, like you’ve been caught doing something unspeakable. maybe, because you have.
but the reaction you expect never comes. there’s no stammering apology, flustered excuses, desperate attempt at backpedaling or some pathetic plea to forget what you saw.
instead, he smiles.
and it’s not the kind of nervous, sheepish grin you might’ve imagined if this moment had played out in your head. no. it’s something far more sinister. cooler. slow-spreading and deeply smug, as if this was inevitable and he’s known all along.
“you weren’t supposed to see that,” he says, voice low and smooth, like he’s just commenting on the weather.
he walks toward you with the kind of unhurried confidence that makes your throat go instantly dry, his footsteps soft against the floorboards, eyes never leaving yours. he stops just in front you where you’re still frozen, sketchbook heavy in your hands, heart beating loud enough to feel it in your teeth.
“but…”
his head tilts slightly as he crouches in front of you, long fingers curling over the edge of the cushion near your knee. the shift in posture shouldn’t feel as intimate as it does, but it roots you in place. he’s close— close enough that you can see the faint flecks of lead still dusted on his fingertips, the faint ink smudge on the side of his hand, the crescent of dried eraser shavings caught beneath his nail.
“…since you have…”
his voice dips even lower now, almost playful. like he’s testing you and he knows you’re too curious to say no.
“do you wanna see the rest?”
you shouldn’t.
you really, really shouldn’t.
but you nod.
and something in him clicks.
he reaches for the book, knuckles brushing your thigh as he takes it gently from your lap. doesn’t ask again or give you time to second-guess. just shifts his weight to sit beside you, so close your knees bump, and flips to the next page with the ease of someone completely unashamed.
the next drawing makes your breath catch.
you— on your stomach, wrists bound above your head with a ribbon that trails off the page. your thighs are spread wide open, panties pushed to the side, one heel still hooked halfway off your foot. you can see your expression sketched in detail, mouth parted, brows drawn tight, eyes looking up with something caught between desperation and bliss.
he turns another page.
this one’s rougher. messier lines, heavier shading. you’re riding something, someone, but only the vague silhouette of a figure is visible beneath you. the focus is all on your body. the way your tits bounce. the tremble in your thighs. the glint of a tongue drawn wet and flicking out from behind your lips. your head is thrown back, hair wild, and between your legs— slick. so much slick. rendered in obsessive strokes that make you shiver.
you blink. “hyunjin, what the fuck—”
“what?” he says lightly, not even looking at you. “it’s art.”
he’s already on the next page.
you reach for it instinctively, trying to stop him, but he only laughs, quiet and amused, and tilts the book slightly so you can see better.
“thought you wanted to see the rest.”
your stomach twists. “how many are there?”
“depends,” he shrugs. “just the ones of you?”
you freeze.
he turns another page. this one’s so filthy your face burns.
you’re gagging on something thick, your hands gripping at the base, tears drawn in delicate lines down your cheeks. your mascara is smudged. your spit is dripping off your chin. there are notes in the margin, little technical observations. ‘make angle of throat curve more exaggerated,’ ‘adjust hand position,’ ‘redraw drool line thicker.’
you glance at him, stunned, but he’s completely calm. flipping through pages like this is the normal shit ever and he’s showing off a vacation album, not a growing collection of depraved, hyper-detailed hentai of you.
“why..” your voice cracks, and you clear your throat. “why me?”
he finally looks at you then.
really looks.
there’s no hesitation in his face. no shame. just a flicker of something deep and unwavering.
“you said yes,” he says simply. “you stood in front of me in that stupid lace and let me stare. what did you think i was gonna do? draw a fucking fruit bowl?”
“i thought it was for your portfolio—”
“it is,” he says, smiling again. “you’re the whole thing.”
you swallow hard. “you should’ve told me.”
he laughs, dry and low.
“would you have still posed?”
you don’t answer. because you don’t know.
he proceeds to turn another page.
this time, you’re bent over the kitchen counter in this one. there’s cum dripping down your thighs.
“you didn’t tell me to stop,” he says softly.
your pulse jumps. “i didn’t know what you were doing.”
“you never asked.”
the silence stretches.
he flips another page. then another. each sketch more obscene than the last. erotic positions you’ve never even imagined. angles that make your skin burn. and he narrates them all with a kind of detached pride, fingers gliding over each line like he’s showing off fine china.
“this one took me all night,” he murmurs, turning the book slightly so you can see the details. “couldn’t get the way your mouth stretches quite right. ended up using a mirror.”
“jesus,” you whisper, barely able to look away. “hyunjin, you’re insane.”
he grins, leaning closer. “and you let me draw you.”
his voice is low. warm. full of something dangerous.
“so what does that make you?”
you don’t answer.
you literally can’t.
because you’re still staring at the next page, and your thighs are pressing together before you even realize it.
+
it’s hard to say who came onto who first.
whether it was you, him, or the invisible thread between you finally pulled taut and snapped— you aren’t sure. but the sketchbook lands somewhere on the floor long forgotten, and then hyunjin’s hands are suddenly on your thighs, warm and steady. the next thing you know, you’re pressed into the mattress of his bed, his body hovering close, like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.
you’re still breathing hard, dizzy from everything you saw. your body’s betraying you, flushed and prickled with heat, and he sees it. god, he sees everything.
his voice is low, right beside your ear. “you’re still looking at me like i’ve done something wrong.” his thumbs press lightly into the soft flesh just above your knees, parting them further until your legs fall open around him. “but you haven’t said stop.”
you should. you could. your lips fall open like you want to say something, but the words never physically come out.
he chuckles.
“that’s what i thought.”
his fingers trail up your bare thigh with an artist’s touch, slow and reverent, tracing invisible lines like he’s mentally drafting his next sketch. his eyes never stray, just stays locked on your face. not your lips, not your chest, but your eyes— studying every twitch and flicker as if he’s trying to memorize how your shame turns into arousal.
and fuck, it’s working…
“do you know,” he says, almost idly, as though it’s just casual conversation. “how many nights i’ve spent drawing you from memory?”
his hand slides higher, dips beneath the hem of your shorts, brushes against the dampened fabric of your panties. his smile sharpens.
“you always wear the cutest little things. i couldn’t help it.”
you choke on your breath when he presses the heel of his palm against your cunt. not enough to relieve anything, but enough to remind you who’s touching you. who’s seen you like this, over and over again, in his head and on paper and in every single fucked-up sketch you were too horrified, and too curious, to stop looking at.
he leans in, mouth grazing the shell of your ear.
“you don’t know what it’s like,” he murmurs, “to spend hours perfecting the way your lips wrap around something thick. or the way your thighs shake when you’re close. i studied that. every twitch. every fold. every drip.”
his tone darkens, the words clinging to you like sweat.
“and it still wasn’t enough.”
he pulls back to look at you, fingers still nestled between your legs, his hand heavy and possessive like he owns what he drew— and maybe he does. he always has.
“you wanna know the real reason i never bring anyone home?”
you blink, mind hazy. “what?”
he slides your panties to the side with maddening precision, but his fingers stay light, barely ghosting over your folds.
“because i didn’t need anyone else.”
you whimper when the pad of his middle finger circles your clit, featherlight and cruel.
“i had you.”
a slow exhale leaves your chest, shaky and broken, and he watches you unravel, patient and quiet, savoring it the way someone might linger on the best part of a page.
then he kisses you without warning.
his mouth is soft at first, almost deceptively gentle. but the moment you lean into it and give in, he deepens it, tongue sliding over yours with the same practiced hunger he puts into his art. he kisses the way he draws: greedy, precise, a little filthy.
your hands fist into his hoodie, and he grins against your lips.
“fuck,” he breathes. “you taste better than i imagined.”
he pushes his fingers deeper between your folds, finally giving you the pressure you need. your hips jolt, a whine slipping from your throat, and that’s when you feel it.
his other hand has moved to your wrist.
he’s guiding it down.
and, fuck, he’s so hard.
you palm him through his sweats, wide-eyed and breathless, and he shudders, grinding into your touch shamelessly.
“you did this,” he says through a clenched jaw. “you and your fucking poses and that look on your face like you didn’t know what you were doing to me.” his hand moves with more purpose now, two fingers pressing inside you slow and deep while his thumb rubs tight, messy circles against your clit. he groans when you clench around him.
“this tight already?” he whispers, nose brushing yours. “and i haven’t even started drawing tonight.”
you try to reply— something, anything— but all that comes out is a pathetic, broken litttle moan.
he smirks, biting your bottom lip.
“so desperate. is this why you went snooping? hoping to find something to get off to?”
you shake your head. “i didn’t- i didn’t mean to—”
he laughs. “no?”
he curls his fingers just right and your whole body jerks, hips stuttering. he hits that gummy spot inside you that already has you seeing stars, mouth falling open around a breathless moan.
“then why’re you dripping all over my hand, sweetheart?”
your face contorts with pleasure, heat rushing to your cheeks as his fingers slowly withdraw, slick and shining. he raises them between you, holding the evidence up for you to see.
“look at that,” he murmurs, softly.
your arousal glistens in the low light, coating his fingers, dripping down his wrist. he slides them into his mouth and moans, eyes fluttering shut for just a second before they snap open again, dark and hungry.
“better than i imagined,” he breathes, already sounding wrecked.
“but we’ll keep going, yeah?”
his hand finds yours again, guiding it back to the bulge straining in his pants— heat pulsing through the fabric, through your palm, through the space between your bodies that’s disappearing by the second.
“you’ve only seen the sketches.”
+
you were half-expecting him to crumble when you climb into his lap.
at least, you wanted him to.
he’d spent the past thirty minutes sounding like the world’s most depraved art school simp, flipping through sketch after sketch like some perverted little museum curator. and now? after everything he’s admitted. you’re wet, twitchy, and riding the high of control. he’s throbbing under you, eyes wide, flushed to the tips of his ears. you think maybe he’ll let you ruin him. maybe he wants that.
but then his fingers dig into your hips. hard.
and the shift is immediate.
his back straightens. his mouth parts, but no breathy little beg ever comes out.
just a low, measured murmur in your ear:
“take your panties off.”
your brain short circuits.
“what—?”
he grips your jaw and tilts your face toward him, gently, never rough, but his touch is firm. decisive.
“you wanna climb into my lap, ride my cock like some spoiled little muse?” he says, tone deceptively calm. “fine. but you’re gonna do it the way i imagined it.”
your breath catches. your heart pounds. your cunt pulses.
fuck.
you strip without thinking. panties discarded somewhere on the floor, shorts shoved down past your knees. he watches, shamelessly, licking his lips once as his eyes drag down your body.
“there,” he says, like you’re finally arranged the way he likes.
he strokes a palm up your inner thigh, fingers ghosting over your folds, smearing slick deliberately. your hips twitch forward, chasing his touch.
he tuts. “so needy. bet you soaked the pages of my sketchbook, didn’t you?”
“hyunjin—”
“don’t act shy now,” he murmurs, voice darker. “you flipped through every page. stared at every filthy little pose i drew you in. legs spread, gagging, dripping.”
his fingers part your folds. dragging through them.
“this wet for me already, and i haven’t even put it in?”
you gasp when he presses the blunt head of his cock against your entrance, not pushing, just teasing, smearing precum over your folds like he’s painting.
“beg,” he says softly.
“hyun—”
“you were bold enough to go through my stuff,” he cuts you off, thumb pressing against your clit in painfully slow circles. “now beg.”
and god, you do.
you don’t even try to hold onto what little pride you had left. not when he’s touching you like that, looking at you like he already owns you, like he’s just recreating a scene he’s drawn a thousand times.
“please,” you whisper. “i want it.”
“say it properly.”
“please, let me ride your cock.”
he grins, smug and breathless, and finally, finally, lets you sink down on him.
and it’s perfect.
so thick you swear it stretches something deeper. you brace against his chest, gasping as he fills you up, each inch a slow, merciless press that has you trembling, mouth agape, nails biting into his skin.
“shiiit,” you whimper. “feels so—”
“tight,” he grits out. “fuck, baby, you’re so fucking tight.”
he lets you sit there for a second, fully seated on him, cunt fluttering as your body adjusts, becoming more attuned to his length. you were expecting him to move, to take over.
but he doesn’t.
“go on then,” he instructs. “ride me. show me what you learned from those drawings.”
you start moving, tentatively at first, slow little rolls of your hips— and his hands were simply there to guide you. firm and assured, shaping the rhythm as if he’s sculpting the moment himself, dragging pleasure from you at the exact pace he wants.
“there,” he hisses. “that’s it, just like that, bounce for me- yeah, baby, just like that.”
you ride him harder, chasing the friction, hips grinding down with more purpose as your moans rise in volume, ragged and desperate. and then his hand wraps around the base of your throat. not enough to block any major airways, just holding you there as an anchor.
“don’t cum yet,” he whispers.
you nearly sob.
“hyunjin- fuck, ’m so close—”
his hips buck up into you and your whole body jerks, another sharp gasp leaving your throat as your cunt clamps down hard, tight, pulsing around him, overwhelmed by the sudden depth and force.
“not yet.”
you clench your fists against his chest, thighs quivering, the ache mounting unbearably.
“please, please, i need—”
he shifts, arm wrapping around your waist, and slams you down onto him as he thrusts up again, harder this time, hitting your walls so deep you couldn’t help but scream.
“you think you get to snoop through my private sketchbook, make me beg, and then cum on my cock whenever you want?”
he flips you before you even get the chance to answer. he moves fast, smooth, overwhelming. now you’re flat on your back, and he’s towering above you, hand gripping your thigh, shoving it up against your chest as he sinks right back into you.
“you’re mine now,” he groans. “gonna fuck you until you forget your own name. gonna redraw you like this- cumming around me, crying for me.”
he thrusts deep and sharp and mean.
“gonna sketch you full of my cum.”
“hyun, fuck, please—”
he leans down, kissing your jaw, your cheek, your lips, almost sweet even as he rails you into the mattress.
“i got you,” he pants. “fuck, baby, i got you. you can cum now.”
and when you do, practically shaking and crying, cunt gripping him so tightly he’s nearly on the verge of blacking out. he follows immediately, moaning against your neck as he spills his thick, hot seed inside you.
he stays there for a moment, still buried deep, panting hard, chest pressed to yours and rising with each unsteady inhale. then he pulls out slowly, eyes fixed on the way his cum spills from you and drips down your thighs, letting out a satisfied hum.
“don’t move,” he says, already reaching for his sketchbook that was left abandoned on the floor.
“hyunjin—”
“shhh,” he coos, “you’re perfect. let me draw you like this.”
he pauses, glancing down at the creamy mess between your legs.
“maybe from memory again.”
guys this is first hyunjin fic ever so my apolocheese if it’s not that good but i rlly tried fhdhsh 😓 pls be nice or i’ll cri </3 (it’s litr 1 am and i can’t sleep omg someone help me)
genre: smut!! minors will be hunted for sport
contains: drabbles – you and each member desperately need each other but are so so tired :(
wc: 4k (~ 500 each)
♡ note: a reupload. i'll say it until the end of time, but i'm incredibly, freakishly grateful for the love the original series received <3
divider by @lariesographic / my masterlist
CHAN
Any reasonable person would be sleeping at this hour. You were asleep before Chan woke you, visibility exhausted and desperate for relief. He climbs into bed and presses himself into your back, large hands reaching around to your inner thighs. “Please, pretty girl, just let me do something, anything,” he whispers against your skin.
He rarely says what he needs so plainly, even rarer that he’s willing to beg. You can’t deny him, especially not when he grazes his fingers over your clit just to hear you gasp.
The room is dark, the only light flickering in from the moonlight and a bedside lamp he switched on. In his eyes, you’re glowing, always so perfect for him. Shadows dance across his chest as you move.
He lets out a content sigh as you sink down onto him. “Fuck, baby,” he whispers almost inaudibly. He clenches his jaw, like he’s trying so hard to keep still. You pause once he’s fully inside, taking your time to adjust to his size.
He props himself up on his elbows, unable to stop himself from staring at where he disappears inside of you. Slowly, experimentally, you roll your hips. His mouth falls open at the movement. A small amount of sweat already causes his biceps to glisten in the low light. You moan, and his eyes snap up to admire your blissed expression.
You keep grinding, feeling him hit the perfect spot inside you, clit brushing against him with every motion. Fuck, he’s so good for you. You chase your high by speeding up ever so slightly. He grips your waist and sets a slower pace himself. “ - Gonna kill me,” he whimpers, “Not gonna last.”.
He can’t help himself - he thrusts once up into you, still moving your hips. You let out a choked moan, eyes squeezing shut. He can see how weak you are - sleepiness and pleasure finally overtaking you. He takes the opportunity to sit up and hold you against his chest. You never stop your motions.
The new angle has his cock reaching deeper inside. He feels you squeeze tighter, and his head falls to your shoulder. He’s done for when you breathe his name like it’s the only thing you remember. He needs you to come with him, needs you to feel just as good as he is.
He reaches between your thighs and rubs small circles on your clit. A few more delicious motions, and both of your highs hit you together. He lets out a final moan, lightly biting your skin in an attempt to be quiet, and you feel the familiar warmth inside you. You try to ride out your own pleasure, but falter, his name falling from your lips as his fingers stay on your clit.
He keeps holding you against him, giving you both time to catch your breath. Eventually, he chuckles quietly and softly kisses your neck. “Thank you, baby,” he murmurs. He falls back with you into the mattress, whispering his praises until you fall asleep again.
MINHO
The entire world has faded to just you two in his hotel room. Minho’s sighs and flustered groans ring in sync with your heavenly grinds. His upper back is pressed against the headboard. It must be uncomfortable, but he doesn't seem to even know where he is right now. Usually he’s a lot more composed than this. Usually, he wouldn’t just let you climb on his lap, tease your tongue down his neck, whisper how good he’s being in his ear. However, his muscles are heavy after performing, and you looked so sweet asking, of course he gave in to you.
The view of you is enough to draw out an unhurried smile that reveals his bunny teeth. His gleaming eyes search yours – intent on mentally cataloguing everything about this moment. That focus doesn’t last long. All it takes is one more small bounce, one more of your barely-contained gasps, and his head lolls backwards. His eyelids shutter halfway closed, but he never stops watching you. You’re squeezing around him perfectly, and you’re so warm in his arms, fuck, he can’t remember why you don’t do this more often.
You’re beautiful like this. Moaning for him. Full of him. Giving everything to him, just as he gives everything to you. “C’mere,” he murmurs before pulling you further into his embrace. He kisses you, slow and sensual, absorbing your sounds as you keep rocking on him. His cock drags along your fluttering walls with every movement. Still working his lips against yours, he brings his hand down between your bodies to circle your clit in time with your grinds. As if reading the other’s mind, both of you speed up at once, chasing both your highs.
Eventually, you have to pull away to breathe. “Minho,” you pant, gripping your nails into his shoulders, “Minho, feelsogood.”
His cock twitches in you. His name, lovely and melodic, falling from your lips alone is almost enough to send him over the edge. Combined with your warm cunt pulling him in and the slight pain digging into his shoulders, he’s so close. He can tell you are too; your motions are starting to falter as heat builds inside you. His free hand holds your waist steady, helping guide you through the motions.
Another roll of your hips. Another gorgeous moan. “Baby, fuck,” is all the warning he can give. He groans your name, his grip tightens around you, and you feel the familiar warmth inside you. His orgasm triggers your own. Overwhelming pleasure washes over your body with Minho still circling your clit in an attempt to help work you through it.
After a few seconds, the stimulation gets too much. He chuckles as you gently swat his hand away from your core. Still his lap, he straightens his positioning to get even closer to you. “Come back,” he whispers, connecting your lips again, holding you as you melt into him.
CHANGBIN
How could he ever resist his princess, laying in his bed like she knows she belongs there?
You knew what he wanted the moment he crawled back beside you. He didn’t bother putting clothes back on after his post-gym shower. The scent of his body wash surrounds you, cozily tucked into the blankets. His damp hair is still slightly clinging to his skin. He leans in and gently kisses your shoulder. “G’morning,” he whispers against your skin.
You kiss him in response. His groan is stifled in your mouth, but his arms wrap around your waist and easily shift you on top of him. You giggle at the sudden show of strength, matching his own smile at finally being able to feel you. He missed you so badly.
He adjusts your hips slowly, giving you time to stop him if you want. You don’t. He moans as you sink down onto him, whispering “Fuck, princess,” into the cool air. “You don’t know what you do to me”. His head falls backwards onto the pillow. You take him so well. You pause, adjusting to his size, and his hands tighten on your hips, like he’s trying to contain himself.
You sit up to straddle him and finally move, dragging your hips once back and forth. He bites back a gasp. God. He’s deep inside you now. You’re gorgeous on top of him. Even when you’re still sleepy, chasing your pleasure, you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.
Underneath you, his muscles glow in the morning light. He’s heartbreakingly gentle with his touches, like he’s conscious of his own strength even like this. He almost loses it when you meet his eyes and smile back, so so perfect for him.
Another roll of your hips. His cock slowly drags against your walls at your relaxed pace, and he’s no longer trying to hide his sounds. You speed up ever so slightly, chasing your own high. His eyes squeeze shut. Curses and pretty moans fall from his lips the more you keep going, the more you keep perfectly squeezing around him.
You’re lost in him. Every motion brings you closer. He’s filling you perfectly, and your clit grazes him at every movement. You lean forward, anchoring your arms on his chest for support “Baby, fuck,” you breathe out, and his eyes snap open again to check on you.
He groans at the sight - he can’t help it. You look wrecked for him. He’s not going to last. He needs you to come with him, fuck, he’s already holding back.
You feel him start rubbing lazy circles on your clit in rhythm with your pace. Your choked cry is music to his ears. His other hand catches you when you slump forward, not able to support yourself anymore. “I know, princess,” he groans, voice as wrecked as you feel. “I know, I’ve got you.”
Pressed against his chest, your release washes over you. He tries to keep rubbing your clit, his fingers faltering from the feeling of being squeezed tighter as yours continues. His own high hits him, and he moves his hand up to hold you as you feel the familiar warmth inside you.
He doesn’t let go afterwards. You’re laying on him, wrapped in his arms, and he swears he’s in heaven. “Let’s just stay here,” he whispers, “for a little bit longer.” You nod against him. He has no intention of moving anytime soon.
HYUNJIN
The only sounds in the room are your intertwined moans and the creak of the bedframe, matching the steady rhythm of your grinds against him. Sleepiness still lingers in the air, but right now, you each want to make the other feel good. “That’s my girl - fuck,” he moans from below you. Tiny amounts of sweat clings his hair to his skin. His hands grip your waist, not bruising, just guiding. “You feel so good - always s’good for me.”
He fills you up so well. The angle has him hitting the perfect spot, and your clit brushes against him with every grind. Every movement brings you closer to your release.
You roll your hips slowly, feeling every inch of him deep inside you. He sucks in a sharp breath. His grip on your waist tightens almost imperceptibly. A whine escapes his lips, eyes quickly darting to yours to check if you heard it.
Of course you did. You smile back down at him and repeat the motion, enjoying the view of his head falling back as he stifles another whine. One hand drops from your waist to cling to the rumpled bedsheets, like he’s holding himself back.
Another roll of your hips. His cock pushes further in, causing your knees to weaken from pleasure. You whimper, “Hyunjin, baby -”
“I know, I’ve got you,” he breathes, and brings his hands up to support your weight. You let your body slump forward, leaning your arms against his chest as you try to keep your rhythm. His gaze lingers on your breasts, swaying as you move.
Your pace falters more with each delicious grind, your high quickly approaching. He feels your walls clench around him and he knows you won’t last much longer. Neither will he. He needs you to come with him, but fuck, he’s already almost there.
His eyes clench tight, one of his signs that he’s close. “Baby, please,” he begs, for nothing specifically and everything at once. He grabs your hand and guides it to your clit, choking on a sob as he watches you rub small circles in rhythm with your pace.
Your orgasms overtake you at once. His name falls from your lips over and over, like a prayer, as waves of pleasure wash over you. He groans as he spills familiar warmth deep inside you.
Afterwards, you lean forwards, laying on his chest. He runs a hand through your hair, pausing every so often to kiss the top of your forehead. He whispers, “I love you,” against your forehead. Eventually, the two of you drift off to sleep, still tangled in each other.
HAN
Everyone else is asleep. He should be quiet. He should stop moaning. However, he’s buried deep inside his pretty girl, and he wouldn’t notice if the world ended right now. You’re on his lap, kissing down his neck, driving him insane. He angles his head to give you more space, and moans even louder as you take advantage of it.
You shift your weight, pushing him deeper inside you. Your head falls forward onto his shoulder. Everything about him - his scent, his touch, him - invades your senses. He’s brushing the perfect spot, and you’re not even moving yet. Like he’s reading your mind, he slightly squeezes your hips, his fingers digging into where they rest.
His eyes are big behind his glasses. His chest rises and falls with how heavily he’s breathing.
You rotate your hips, enjoying the view of his eyes rolling back into his skull. You moan in tandem - the sensation is too delicious for you to stop now. You repeat your motions. His high-pitched whine only spurs you forward, chasing the sensation of his cock hitting deep inside you again and again. His nails dig deeper into your skin. Already, the pain mixed with pleasure is almost too much.
He’s not doing much better. Each time you moan his name brings him closer to the edge. He needs you to finish before him. He moves his hand to grip your inner thigh, thumb barely brushing your clit. He looks up at you, tears shining in his eyes. “Can I, please?” he breathes out.
You nod so fast your vision slightly blurs.
“thankyouthankyouthankyou”
Then he’s pressing slightly harder, rubbing lazy circles while staring intently at where he’s connected to you. His glasses fall slightly down his nose. He doesn’t care.
Fuck. Your movements get sloppier as the pleasure builds. His bedframe scrapes against the wall as you speed up. He’s incapable of forming words, just babbling half-sentences of praise. “Fuck, baby - so good for me - please - fucking please,” spills out.
He can feel how close you are with how you clench around him. He just needs to hold on for a bit longer. He keeps rubbing your clit, and lifts himself up to kiss you. His lips work against yours, hoping he can convey his passion through it.
Your orgasm hits you like a train. Your moans grow in volume as you try to ride it out. He never stops rubbing your clit. His own follows closely behind yours, spilling deep inside you. He breaks the kiss to repeat your name like a prayer.
You fall against his chest, both of you panting as you come down. His arms engulf you and squeeze you tighter against him. “Thank you,” he whispers against your cheek. Reluctantly, he moves you off his lap and ensures you’re comfortable laying against him. You two stay like that, holding each other, until you both drift off to sleep.
FELIX
His deep moans amplify the lust residing in the air. The only light comes from his long-forgotten PC, the abandoned login screen illuminating you two on his bed. Felix forgot the game exists. Right now, he’s just focused on trying to control himself as you roll your hips on top of him.
You’re in his arms, making out with him, running your fingers through his long hair. You’re always so perfect for him. Always his ethereal angel. He’s already lost in you, and you’ve barely started. As you continue your slow movements, he breaks your kiss to brush a loose strand of hair out of your eyes, whispering, “so, so beautiful,” almost to himself. His cock twitches just from your resulting sweet smile.
You take your time, enjoying every inch of him. Your clit brushes against him with every movement. Your quiet moans are the prettiest sound he’s ever heard. He would stay here listening to you forever, if you let him.
He’s vaguely aware he has a roommate on the other side of the wall, but that awareness is waning by the second. It’s gone completely when you speed up, chasing the feeling of him hitting deep inside you. He lets out a choked groan. His abs flex with restraint, like he’s holding himself back.
Curses mixed with your name spill from his lips. One hand gently lands on your inner thigh, then travels over to your clit, rubbing small circles in rhythm with your motions. Your eyes squeeze shut, entirely focused on your building pleasure.
“Look at me, angel,” his low voice breathes out. “Please.” Of course you do, and fuck, he looks divine. His freckled cheeks twinge pink. His long hair falls messily over his shoulders. He holds your gaze and sighs, “That’s my girl.”
You clench around him at the praise, and he swears he sees heaven for a moment. His head falls back into the pillow behind him as he keeps babbling, “Feels so good - always s’good - angel, fuck.” A few more motions, and you weaken from the sensations, leaning forward to steady yourself on his chest. Your combined moans fill the room.
God, he’s so close, but he needs you to come with him. His fingers speed up on your clit, rubbing faster circles as he revels in your noises. Your highs hit together. He moans even deeper as you feel the familiar warmth inside you. Your hips falter on him as you try to ride out your waves of pleasure. He works you through it, still babbling out his love for you.
Afterwards, he wraps his arms around you once more, pressing you into his bare chest. “Thank you, angel,” he whispers into your hair. He holds you against him, wrapped up in his sheets and each other, until you both drift off to sleep.
SEUNGMIN
Seungmin could not care less about the rest of his members going about their nightly routines outside his door. Why would he, when you’re in his arms, making out with him, slowly rolling your hips like you have all the time in the world. You do, as far as he’s concerned. He never rushes with you if he can help it.
Your hands are laced in his hair, absentmindedly twirling some longer strands between your fingers. He moans at the sensation every so often. Right now, he would do anything if it meant you would stay in his bed, making him feel so good he’s about to start seeing stars. Your lips are so soft against his, and he’s fitting wonderfully inside you - squeezing like you are perfectly made for him.
You pause your movements for a moment, and he actually whines. He pulls away from the kiss to steady his breathing. His efforts are futile - his breaths quickening again when you sit up, him still inside you, and graze your fingers over his chest. The new angle is pushing him in deeper than he was before. He moans your name and leans his head back into the pillows beneath him.
You resume your motions, feeling every inch of his cock hitting deep inside you. He genuinely might lose it from the sight alone. His hands rub up and down on your thighs, trying to feel as much of you as possible. He can’t help himself - moaned snippets of praise spill out of his mouth faster than he can register his own words. “Fuck, baby - so good - oh my god - you’re beautiful,” is just part of what you’re able to catch.
Your clit brushes against him with every grind. The sensation is delicious, paired with Seungmin’s whimpering voice and him staring up at you like you’re a goddess, you’re not going to last. He’s not either - he’s babbling more with each passing second. From below you, he stares up, suddenly looking more desperate. “Tell me you’re mine,” he whispers, and thrusts lightly up into you.
You weaken from it, leaning forward onto him. He takes advantage of the position to kiss you again. “I’m yours,” you whisper against his lips.
That does it. His head falls forward into your shoulder, whining softly again, as you feel the familiar warmth inside you. Your own orgasm follows quickly afterwards, pleasure washing over you, your pace faltering as you try to ride it out.
For a few moments, neither of you move. He rubs small circles on your back as he attempts to recover from the slight overstimulation. Eventually, you begin to get off him, only to be met with him lightly grabbing you, keeping you in place. “Don’t,” he murmurs, “please.”
JEONGIN
He’s most beautiful in the quiet moments. He’s ethereal always, but there’s something about the unguarded version of Jeongin, with messy hair, easy smiles, and holding you close like he can’t fathom ever letting you slip away, that always gets you needing more. Outside, the low hum of others in the same space filters through the bottom of his door, but they might as well be lightyears away for all the attention Jeongin pays them. It’s easy to forget that anyone else exists. It’s easy to revel in each other, barriers shed, until every stress, every thought vanishes.
You pull away from the kiss first, Jeongin’s eyes still closed and moving to follow after you, a line of spit that should be much more obscene than it actually is connecting the two of you. “Can’t wait anymore,” he murmurs, eyes still closed. “Please,” he adds, “just want you.” Underneath you, his flannel pajama bottoms tent seemingly painfully. You’re not doing much better.
“Anything for you,” you breathe, intended as teasing, but it comes out more like an admission. Regardless, it has the desired effect, a strangled groan leaving him as he shimmies out of his clothes with record-breaking speed.
Your moans intertwine as you sink down onto him. You’ve done this countless times, and will be in this position countless more, but you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the delicious pressure in the first few seconds. He knows this, too, if his barely-contained smug expression is anything to go by. It vanishes when you roll your hips, feeling his cock deep inside you. His forehead falls forward onto your shoulder, his hair tickles your collarbone. His glasses slip down the bridge of his nose.
“Fuck,” he groans into your skin, “you’re so good at that.” As if to accentuate his point, he can’t contain a sharp inhale as your movements speed up.
Like mirror images of each other, the cockiness on your face is wiped away as his fingers find your clit to rub small circles in sync with your grinds. Raising his head again, his gleaming eyes search yours, soaking in your pleasure as much as he can. He can’t help himself; he thrusts up once, smiling again at your gasp. He pulls you in to kiss you again, lips working against yours, only broken by the moans escaping both of you.
Your movements falter the more your pleasure builds. Jeongin notices. Of course he does – he notices everything about you. His fingernails dig into where they rest on your hip, surely leaving crescents to discover in the morning, and without breaking rhythm, he takes over setting the pace himself.
It doesn’t take long with Jeongin fitting perfectly inside you, his fingers circling your clit, his lips heated against yours. Your release washes over you with a cry of his name. He keeps moving you, keeps touching you, to help you ride it out. A few more motions, and he follows, your name falling from his lips.
A few moments pass. He holds you pressed against his chest as you both catch your breath, Eventually, you move to get off him, but his grip only tightens, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “Stay here with me,” he whispers.
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Summary: Hwang Hyunjin didn’t do seconds or thirds after a hookup which is why you thought fucking him once would get him to leave you alone. You were wrong, he came back twice during the summer after that one time during the spring semester and now you’ve got a Hwang Hyunjin stuck on you like a lost, lovesick puppy. Hyunjin’s on a mission to sabotage every date you go on until you admit that you two are perfect for each other. You tell him he’s being a stalker, he says he’s being persistent and dedicated and you’re just being dramatic.
Warnings: Certified loverboy/Munch!Hyunjin, uni student!hyunjin x TA grad student!f.reader, implied curve/plus size reader, Hyunjin has some morally grey traits that you overlook because you lowkey like that shit and you just as much as a simp for him, smut! MDNI! Multiple sex scenes/rounds, unprotected sex, oral (m.&f.rec), slight exihibitionism, car sex,public sex, unprotected sex, slight dom/sub/switch dynamics, Hyunjin was a kiwi when they first hooked up, nicknames: Hyune, baby,Simp/munch(his), Muse(this is cannon atp), pussy-fairy, baby etc (hers), as usual I might have missed something.
W.C: 17.7k
You had thought fucking Hyunjin would get him to leave you alone. He never went back for seconds from what you had heard around campus and the kid’s been nagging you—not really because you do enjoy his company sometimes—since you TA’d one of his English Foundation classes last fall.
You figured he just wanted to try sex with a big girl given what you knew his usual hookups looked like.So, after one particularly shitty presentation—with a lecturer that you were sure hated you—you invited him over.
What you hadn’t planned on was having Hwang Hyunjin stuck on you like a lost puppy after one fuck; okay, maybe two…three times. Once in late spring, twice over the summer when he somehow kept showing up at places you frequented and now it’s the fall semester again and Hyunjin has found every opportunity to be in your bubble even befriending your friends Minho, Chan and Changbin.
“Yahhh! Hwang Hyunjin, you can’t keep doing this to me.” You groan as you push open your apartment door with him hot on your trail. This is the third date since the semester started that he’s run off.
“I don’t see why you need to be going on dates when I’m literally right here, ready and willing to do all that Muse.”
“That’s not the point Hyune.”
“It’s not? I’m hot, you’re hot. The sex is an incredibly hot bonus but at least you know it won’t be subpar and I’ll actually get you off. All you gotta do is say yes, I’m very persistent.” He smiles.
You drop your bag on the kitchen counter with more force than necessary, the thud punctuating your frustration. Hyunjin closes the door behind him—of course he follows you inside—and leans against it with that infuriating confidence that probably works on everyone else.
“Persistent is one word for it,” you mutter, yanking open the fridge to grab a bottle of water. Anything to avoid looking at him right now, at the way his hair falls perfectly even after he’s been trailing you across campus, at how his shirt rides up slightly when he crosses his arms. “Stalker is another.”
“Dramatic.” He pushes off the door and you can hear the smile in his voice as he moves closer. “I prefer ‘dedicated.’”
You spin around, pointing the water bottle at him like a weapon. “You literally interrupted my date at the restaurant, Hyunjin. You sat down at our table and ordered food.”
“The guy was boring you to tears. I could see it from across the room.”
“You were across the room watching me? Do you hear yourself right now?”
He has the audacity to shrug, unbothered, as he hops up onto your counter like he pays rent here. “I was meeting someone at the café next door and happened to look up—”
“Meeting someone? You?”
“—and I saw you doing that thing you do when you’re trying to be polite but you’d rather be anywhere else.” He tilts his head, studying you with those dark eyes that got you into this mess in the first place. “That little fake laugh, the way you keep checking your phone under the table. You did it in Professor Kim’s lecture last spring too, remember?”
You hate that he notices these things. Hate that he’s right. Hate even more that you know there was no one he was meeting; he’d literally sat at that café for an hour, coffee going cold, just waiting for the right moment to swoop in and ruin your date.
“That doesn’t give you the right to crash my dates, Hyune. We hooked up. Past tense. That’s it.”
“See, you keep saying that.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees and the air between you shifts into something heavier. “But your body language says something different. The way you let me walk you home. How you haven’t kicked me out yet. How you’ve already called me ‘Hyune’ twice in the last five minutes.”
Fuck. You hadn’t even noticed.
“I—” You falter, gripping the water bottle tighter. “That’s just habit.”
“Is it?” He slides off the counter, moving into your space slowly, giving you every chance to step back. You don’t. “Because I think you like having me around. I think you keep going on these shitty dates hoping one of them will make you stop thinking about me, about us.”
“There is no us.”
“There could be.” His voice drops lower, softer, and suddenly you’re very aware of how close he is, how warm your apartment feels. “Just say yes, Muse. One real date. Let me take you somewhere, treat you right, show you I’m not just some college kid looking for a hookup.”
“You ran off three of my dates, Hyunjin.”
“Because they weren’t good enough for you.” No hesitation, no shame. “And I am. Let me prove it.”
Your heart hammers against your ribs, treacherous thing that it is. You should say no. Should maintain the boundaries you set months ago when you decided sleeping with him was a lapse in judgment.
But god, the way he’s looking at you right now—like you’re the only thing in the world worth his attention—makes it really hard to remember why those boundaries existed in the first place.
“One date,” you hear yourself say, and his face lights up like you’ve given him the moon. “But if you fuck this up—”
“I won’t.” He’s grinning now, that devastating smile that should come with a warning label. “You won’t regret this.”
“I already do,” you lie but you’re smiling too and from the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, he knows it.
You turn your back to him as you head towards your bedroom to change out of your clothes. You know he’s going to follow you and follow he does, making himself comfortable at the foot of your bed leaning back on his arms in that lazy confident way he has while you strip out of the layers of clothes you’d been wearing.
“You’re staring, Hwang.”
“Can you blame me?”
“Annoying fucker.”
“Yeah, but you like me though.” and you don’t even have to look at him to know he’s grinning or smirking. “C’mere, muse.”
“Don’t use that tone of voice,”
“Why? Does it make you wet?”
You pause mid-motion, your shirt halfway over your head, heat crawling up your neck that has nothing to do with the layers you’re peeling off. “Hyunjin—”
“That’s not an answer.” His voice is lower now, teasing but edged with something darker that makes your stomach flip.
You yank the shirt off completely and toss it at him. He catches it easily, bringing it to his face with an exaggerated inhale that makes you roll your eyes even as your pulse quickens.
“You’re impossible.”
“And you’re avoiding the question.” The bed shifts as he adjusts his position before he speaks again. “Come here, Muse.”
There it is again—that voice, the one that’s all command wrapped in honey, the one that got you into trouble the first time. You should tell him to back off, remind him that one date doesn’t mean he gets to waltz back into your bed like nothing’s changed.
But your body has other ideas, already responding to his proximity, to the memory of his hands on your skin.
“This wasn’t part of the deal,” you say but your voice comes out breathier than intended as you turn to face him.
He’s still on your bed, leaning back with that infuriating smirk playing at his lips, eyes tracking every inch of you like he’s memorizing the view. “What deal? I just want you closer. We can just talk.”
“You don’t want to talk.”
“Maybe not.” He reaches out, fingers ghosting over your wrist. “But I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me. Even if that’s just you sitting here, telling me about your terrible date while I try very hard to behave myself.”
You snort despite yourself. “You? Behave?”
“I can be good when properly motivated.” His thumb traces circles on your inner wrist and goddamn if that simple touch doesn’t make you want to forget every reason this is a bad idea. “So, what’s it gonna be? You gonna keep pretending you don’t want this, or are you gonna stop overthinking for once and let yourself have something good?”
You don’t know what possesses you to do it but you wrap your hands around his throat and tilt his head back just a little so he’s looking up at you. What you don’t expect is the moan that slips out of his mouth along with the way his grip tightens on both of your ass cheeks.
“You’re playing with fire, Muse.”
His pupils are blown wide, dark and wanting, and the way his breath hitches under your palms sends a thrill straight through you. You tighten your grip just slightly—not enough to hurt—just enough to feel his pulse jumping against your fingers.
“Maybe I want to get burned,” you murmur, watching the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips.
“Fuck,” he breathes and his hands slide higher, pulling you closer until you’re standing between his spread thighs. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass, gripping like he can’t get enough and there’s something about the way he touches you—like every curve is exactly what he wants—that makes your breath catch. “You can’t just…Muse, if you keep touching me like that, I’m not gonna be able to keep my promise about behaving.”
“Did I ask you to behave?”
Something shifts in his expression; surprise giving way to hunger, that cocky facade cracking just enough to show you the desperate want underneath. It’s intoxicating, this power you have over him, the way someone so confident turns pliant under your touch.
“You’re killing me,” he groans but he’s tilting his head back further, offering himself up. “Months. Months of you ignoring me, going on dates with other people, pretending those nights didn’t change everything—”
“It was just three nights,” you say, squeezing just a little harder and his moan is obscene.
“Three perfect nights that I can’t stop thinking about.” His hands slide from your ass to your hips, thumbs pressing into the soft skin there. “The way you look on top of me, the sounds you make, how your thighs feel wrapped around my head—” He cuts himself off with a shudder as your thumb traces along his jawline. “Please, Muse. Put me out of my misery. Tell me I’m not crazy, that you feel this too.”
You could still walk away. Should walk away. This is exactly what you were trying to avoid; getting tangled up with Hwang Hyunjin and his persistent attention, his ability to make you forget every logical reason this is complicated.
But God, the way he’s looking at you right now, like you’re everything he wants…
“You’re not crazy,” you admit quietly and watch his face transform with relief and triumph and raw need. “But you’re still annoying.”
“Yeah?” His hands slide under the waistband of your pants, palms hot against bare skin. “Wanna shut me up about it?”
Your fingers flex on his throat and before you know it the world tilts and suddenly your back hits the mattress, the air rushing from your lungs. The switch happens so fast your head spins or maybe that’s just the way he’s looking down at you under him with his hand around your throat; eyes dark with promise and that damn smirk that makes your thighs clench.
“Know you missed your favorite necklace.” He says with a grin and a flex of his fingers.
His hand spans your throat perfectly, thumb resting against your pulse point like he’s counting each racing beat. The weight of it, the controlled pressure, sends liquid heat pooling low in your belly.
“There she is,” he murmurs, leaning down until his lips brush your ear. “Been wondering how long you’d make me wait to see you like this again.”
You should probably say something cutting, remind him he’s getting ahead of himself, that agreeing to one date doesn’t mean—
But then his fingers flex, just enough pressure to make your breath catch and coherent thought becomes a distant memory. Your hands fly up to grip his wrist, not to push away but to anchor yourself as your body arches involuntarily beneath him.
“Fuck, I missed this,” he breathes against your neck, his free hand sliding down your side, tracing the curve of your waist, your hip. “Missed the way you melt for me the second I get my hands on you. All that attitude just…gone.”
“Hyunjin—” His name comes out strangled, needy, and you hate how desperate you sound. Hate more that he’s right about all of it.
“Yeah, baby?” Another flex of his fingers, his thigh pressing between yours. “Still think those other guys could give you what I can? Still think you need anyone else when you’ve got me?”
Your nails dig into his wrist and he groans, low and dirty. “That’s my girl. Mark me up, Muse. Want everyone to know exactly who I belong to.”
“Possessive bastard,” you gasp out but your hips are already rolling against his thigh, seeking friction.
“Only for you.” His mouth finds that spot below your ear that makes you whimper. “Say you’re mine. Say those dates were bullshit and you want me.”
“You’re—ah—so fucking cocky—”
“Because I’m right.” His hand tightens fractionally, and stars burst behind your eyelids. “Now answer the question, or I stop.”
“Stop and I’ll never give you head again. Know you like that thing I do with my tongue before I take it all the way in.” You grin.
He freezes above you and you feel the full-body shudder that runs through him at the memory. His hand loosens just slightly on your throat as he pulls back to look at you, eyes blazing.
“That’s playing dirty, Muse.”
“You started it,” you shoot back, running your tongue along your bottom lip deliberately. His gaze tracks the movement like a starving man watching food. “What was it you said last time? That no one’s ever—”
“Don’t.” His voice comes out strangled, hips pressing harder against you. “Fuck, you can’t just—that thing you do, that fucking swirling before you—Jesus Christ.”
The power shift is delicious. For all his cockiness, all his control, you know exactly how to unravel him. You’ve done it before, watched him fall apart with his hands fisted in your hair, saying your name like a prayer, telling you how good you look on your knees with your mouth stretched around him.
“So maybe,” you say, walking your fingers up his chest, “you should reconsider your ultimatums. Because I can be just as stubborn as you, Hwang Hyunjin, and I know all your weaknesses now.”
He drops his forehead to yours with a breathless laugh. “You’re evil. Absolutely fucking evil.”
“You like it.”
“I love it,” he corrects and something in his voice makes your heart stutter. Too honest, too raw. He catches it immediately, tries to cover with that cocky grin. “Love how you think you’re in control right now when we both know how this ends.”
“Oh? How’s that?”
His hand slides from your throat to cup your jaw, thumb brushing your lips. “With you saying my name so loud your neighbors complain. Again.” He punctuates it with a roll of his hips that has you gasping. “But first, you’re gonna answer my question. Those dates—”
“Were boring,” you admit, because fuck it, he’s not going to let this go. “Happy?”
“Getting there.” His smile is pure sin. “Now tell me you’re mine.”
“Make me.”
The words are barely out of your mouth before his eyes go molten, that pretty face transforming into something predatory and hungry. His hand slides back to your throat, not squeezing, just possessive.
“Oh, Muse,” he says, voice dropping an octave that goes straight between your thighs. “You really shouldn’t have said that.”
Before you can respond with something appropriately bratty, he captures your mouth in a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue and months of pent-up frustration. It’s not gentle—Hyunjin’s never been gentle when he’s like this, wound up and desperate—and you wouldn’t want it any other way.
“Months,” he growls against your lips, kissing down your jaw. “Months of watching you pretend you don’t think about this.” His teeth graze your pulse point and you gasp. “Watching you go on dates with guys who couldn’t possibly know what you need.”
His free hand slides down your stomach, fingers playing at the waistband of your pants. He doesn’t move to remove them yet, just traces patterns that make your hips lift involuntarily.
“Hyune—”
“Shh,” he soothes, but there’s nothing gentle about the way he’s looking at you. “You wanted me to make you admit it, right? That’s what this is?” He pops the button of your pants with practiced ease. “Let me remind you exactly what you’ve been missing.”
“You’re such an asshole,” you manage but it comes out breathless.
“Maybe.” He drags the zipper down slowly, torturously. “But you like it. Like when I call you out on your bullshit.” His fingers slip just beneath the waistband of your underwear, not touching where you need him yet, just teasing. “Like when I don’t let you hide.”
You dig your nails into his shoulders through his shirt, trying to pull him closer but he resists. That damn smirk is back.
“Patience, pretty baby. We’ve got all night and I’m gonna take my time reminding you exactly why you can’t stop thinking about me.”
“Cocky—” The word cuts off in a moan as his hand finally, finally slides lower, cupping you through the thin fabric. The heel of his palm grinds against your clit and your vision goes hazy.
“What was that?” He does it again, watching your face. “Couldn’t quite hear you over all those pretty sounds you’re making.”
“I said you’re—fuck—” He adds pressure and your argument dissolves entirely.
“That’s what I thought.” His mouth finds that spot below your ear. “You can act tough all you want, Muse, but your body tells me everything I need to know.”
He hooks his fingers in your waistband but doesn’t pull down yet. Just waits, making you squirm.
“Tell me you want this,” he murmurs against your neck. “Tell me those dates were bullshit attempts to forget about us.”
“There is no us—”
He pulls his hand away entirely and you actually whimper at the loss. His answering laugh is dark and knowing.
“No? Then I guess you don’t need me to—”
“Don’t you dare.” You grab his wrist, pulling his hand back and his eyes light up with victory.
“Then say it.” He starts pulling your pants down, slowly, watching you the whole time. “Say you thought about me while you were out with them. Say you compared them to me and they didn’t measure up.”
The worst part is he’s right. Every single date, you’d found yourself thinking about Hyunjin; the way he laughs at your terrible jokes, how he brings you coffee during your TA sessions without being asked, the way he looks at you like you’re the most fascinating thing in the world.
And yeah, the sex. Definitely the sex.
“They were boring,” you finally admit, lifting your hips so he can slide your pants and underwear down your legs. The cool air makes you shiver, or maybe that’s just the way he’s looking at you, like he wants to devour you whole.
“Boring,” he repeats, tossing your clothes somewhere behind him. His hands slide up your thighs, gripping the soft flesh there, spreading you wider. “Just boring?”
“Hyunjin, please—”
“Please what?” He settles between your legs but doesn’t touch you yet. Just looks, and the hunger in his eyes makes you clench around nothing. “I want to hear you say it, Muse. Want to hear you admit that this—” he finally drags one finger through your wetness, and you gasp, “—is all for me.”
“You’re the worst,” you breathe but your hips chase his touch.
“Yeah?” He circles your clit once, twice, before pulling away again. “The worst, but you’re soaking for me anyway. Been like this all night, haven’t you? Sitting across from that guy, being polite, while thinking about what I could do to you instead.”
You want to deny it, but he chooses that moment to slide two fingers inside you, curling them exactly right and the truth spills out in a broken moan.
“There she is.” His voice is reverent now, awed. “Fuck, I missed this. Missed watching you fall apart for me.” He sets a rhythm that has your back arching, your hands scrambling for purchase on the sheets. “Missed the way you get so wet, so ready. Like your body knows exactly who it belongs to even when you’re being stubborn about it.”
“Not—ah—yours,” you try, but it’s weak even to your own ears.
His thumb finds your clit and you nearly sob. “No? Then why are you grinding on my hand like you’re desperate for it? Why’d you let me follow you home, let me in your apartment, your bedroom?” He leans down, breath hot against your ear. “Why haven’t you kicked me out yet, baby?”
Because you can’t. Because despite every logical reason for why this is a bad idea, you want him. Have wanted him since that first night when he’d looked at you like you were everything, touched you like you were precious, fucked you like you were the only thing that mattered.
“Say it,” he demands, adding a third finger that has you seeing stars. “Say you’re mine and I’ll give you everything you need. Make you come so hard you forget every other guy’s name.”
“Fuck—Hyunjin—I can’t—”
“You can.” His fingers speed up, hitting that spot inside you that makes your thighs shake. “Come on, Muse. Stop being stubborn and just admit it. Admit you want this, want me, want us.”
He’s relentless and you can feel your orgasm building, pressure coiling tight in your belly. Your hands find his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan.
“That’s it,” he encourages, grinding the heel of his palm against your clit. “Take what you need, baby. Show me how good I make you feel.”
You’re so close, teetering on the edge and he knows it. Can probably feel it in the way you’re clenching around his fingers, the way your breathing has gone ragged.
“Just say it,” he coaxes, softer now but no less demanding. “Three little words and I’ll make you come. That’s all, Muse. Just tell me the truth.”
Pride wars with desperation but your body makes the decision for you; arching into his touch, chasing the release only he seems capable of giving you.
“Yours,” you finally gasp out. “I’m yours, okay? Happy now?”
His smile is blinding, triumphant, before his mouth crashes into yours. “So fucking happy,” he murmurs against your lips and then his fingers curl just right and you’re gone, falling apart in his arms while he swallows your moans and tells you how perfect you are, how good, how his.
You’re still trembling through the aftershocks when he slowly withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean with an obscene moan that makes heat coil in your belly all over again despite having just come.
“Missed that too,” he says with a little pat to your sensitive cunt, eyes dark as he watches you try to catch your breath. “The way you taste. Been thinking about it for months.”
“You’re such a fucking munch,” you manage but there’s no heat behind it. Can’t be, not when you’re boneless and satisfied and he’s looking at you like that.
“Wonder whose fault that is?” He’s already pulling his shirt over his head, revealing all that lean muscle you’ve tried very hard not to think about. “And we’re not done. Not even close.”
Your eyes track the movement of his hands as he works his belt loose, the clink of metal loud in your quiet bedroom. “Confident.”
“Realistic,” he corrects, shoving his jeans down. “You think one orgasm is enough to make up for months? I’ve got a lot of lost time to account for, Muse.”
He’s not wrong. Even now, barely recovered, you want him. Want his weight on you, in you, surrounding you. It’s infuriating how easily he gets under your skin.
“Come here,” you say, reaching for him and he goes willingly, settling between your thighs like he belongs there.
His cock presses against you, hard and hot, and you both groan at the contact. He rocks against you slowly, coating himself in your wetness, the head catching on your clit with each deliberate thrust.
“Hyune—” Your nails rake down his back and he hisses.
“What, baby? Use your words.” He’s teasing, the bastard, dragging this out when you both know what you want.
“Stop teasing.”
“But you’re so pretty when you’re desperate.” He does it again, that maddening slide that’s almost enough but not quite. “Flushed and needy and all mine.”
You wrap your legs around his waist, trying to angle him where you need him, but he doesn’t budge just holds himself just out of reach with that infuriating smirk.
“Ask nicely.”
“I’m going to kill you,” you threaten but it comes out more pleading than murderous.
“You love me,” he says, and then seems to realize what he’s said. For a moment, the cocky mask slips and you see something vulnerable underneath, hope and fear and want all tangled together.
The moment stretches between you, weighted with things neither of you are ready to name.
“Hyunjin,” you say softly, cupping his face. “Fuck me. Please.”
It’s enough. He reaches between you, lining himself up, and then he’s pushing inside with one slow, devastating thrust that has you both gasping. The stretch is perfect, familiar, like your body remembered exactly how he feels.
“Fuck,” he breathes, dropping his forehead to yours. “Fuck, Muse, you feel—” He can’t finish the sentence, too overwhelmed, and something about seeing him undone like this makes your chest tight.
“Move,” you urge, rolling your hips. “Baby, please move.”
He pulls out slowly, almost all the way, before slamming back in hard enough to punch the air from your lungs. Sets a rhythm that’s punishing and perfect, each thrust hitting so deep you see stars.
“This,” he grits out, punctuating the word with a particularly hard thrust. “This is what you’ve been missing. What those other guys could never give you.” His hand finds your throat again, not squeezing, just holding. “Tell me. Tell me they didn’t fuck you like this.”
“They didn’t—” You gasp as he changes angles, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl. “Didn’t even—fuck—didn’t even have a chance—”
“Because they don’t know you.” His thumb traces your racing pulse. His other hand grips your thigh to hook your leg over his shoulder, fingers digging into the soft flesh there and pulling you tighter against him. “Don’t know that you like it rough. Like when I hold you down and take what’s mine.”
He proves his point by pinning your wrists above your head with his free hand, holding you completely at his mercy. The position makes your breasts press up and he takes advantage, ducking his head to drag his teeth across one nipple.
“Don’t know how fucking perfect you are when you let go and just feel.”
You should probably protest at the possessive way he’s talking, the assumption that he knows you better than you know yourself. But he does know you, knows exactly how to make you fall apart, how to push you right to the edge and keep you there.
“Harder,” you demand because if you’re doing this, if you’re giving in, you might as well get everything you want.
His answering laugh is strained. “Greedy girl.” But he complies, fucking into you with enough force that your headboard starts hitting the wall. “That what you need? Need me to ruin you so you can’t even think about anyone else?”
“Yes—fuck yes—”
“Good.” He releases your wrists to hitch your other leg higher over his hip, the new angle making you cry out. “Because that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”
His hand slides between your bodies, finding your clit and the dual sensation is almost too much. You can feel another orgasm building, faster this time, pulled tight like a wire about to snap.
“Hyune, I’m close—”
“I know, baby, I can feel it.” His rhythm is getting erratic, chasing his own release. “Come for me. Wanna feel you squeeze my cock, wanna watch you fall apart.”
“Come with me,” you gasp, pulling him down into a kiss that’s more breathing into each other’s mouths than anything else. “Want to feel you—”
“Fuck…Muse—” The nickname becomes a chant as his hips stutter and the desperation in his voice is what tips you over. Your second orgasm hits harder than the first, pleasure white-hot and all-consuming, and you feel him follow seconds later with a groan that you swallow down.
He collapses on top of you, both of you sweaty and spent and trembling. For a long moment, there’s nothing but heavy breathing and the occasional aftershock, his cock still buried inside you like he can’t bear to separate yet.
“So,” he finally says, voice muffled against your neck. “Still think those dates were a good idea?”
You smack his shoulder weakly. “Cálla.”
“Make me.” But there’s no heat behind it, just lazy satisfaction.
You wrap your legs tight around him and roll him onto his back as you settle on top of him. The ride you start is slow and torturous, hands on his chest as you lift until only the tip is inside before you drop all the way back down.
His eyes go wide when you flip him, a startled laugh escaping before it melts into a groan as you sink back down onto him. He’s still sensitive from coming, you can tell by the way his abs clench, the way his hands fly to your hips with a grip that’s going to leave bruises.
His fingers span your hips, thumbs pressing into the soft give of your stomach and there’s something almost reverent in the way he’s looking up at you, like he can’t quite believe you’re real.
“Fuck, baby, what are you—”
“Teaching you a lesson,” you murmur, rising up slowly, torturously slow, until just his tip is inside. His fingers dig into your flesh, trying to pull you back down but you resist. “About running your mouth.”
You drop down hard and he chokes on whatever he was going to say, head falling back against the pillows. The oversensitivity makes him twitch inside you, makes his thighs tense beneath you.
“Baby, I just—ah fuck—”
You do it again. And again. Setting a pace that’s designed to drive him insane, that has him writhing beneath you and trying to thrust up to meet you. But you keep the control, keep him exactly where you want him.
“What’s wrong?” You drag your nails down his chest, watching red lines bloom in their wake. “Thought you liked being in charge. Liked making me beg.”
“I do—fuck, I do—but you’re gonna kill me—” His feet plant on the mattress, trying to get leverage, trying to fuck up into you harder.
That’s when your hand wraps around his throat again.
The effect is immediate and devastating. His whole body goes taut, cock throbbing inside you and the moan that tears from him is absolutely wrecked.
“Stay still,” you command, squeezing just enough to make his breath catch. “You’re going to take what I give you, understand?”
“Fuck,yes, yes—” His eyes are glazed, pupils blown so wide there’s barely any iris left. His hands fall away from your hips, surrendering, and the sight of Hwang Hyunjin—cocky, confident, always-in-control Hyunjin—completely at your mercy sends a rush of power through you.
You start riding him in earnest now, the way you know drives him crazy. Rolling your hips on the downstroke, clenching around him deliberately, using him for your own pleasure while your hand stays firm on his throat.
“Oh god…oh fuck, Muse—” He’s babbling now, coherence lost. His hands scrabble at the sheets, his back arching. “Please,please, I can’t—”
“Can’t what?” You lean down, maintaining the pressure on his throat as you change the angle. “Can’t handle what you’ve been begging for? Can’t take being fucked the way you fuck me?”
“No…yes, fuck—” Tears are gathering at the corners of his eyes from the intensity. “Don’t stop—please don’t stop—”
You weren’t planning to. Not when he looks like this; absolutely destroyed, that pretty face twisted in almost painful pleasure, completely yours. Your free hand slides up to pinch his nipple and he nearly sobs.
“You’re so good like this,” you tell him and mean it. “So perfect when you let go. When you stop trying to control everything and just feel.”
“For you—” he gasps out. “Only for you—”
Your rhythm is relentless now, chasing your third orgasm of the night while he falls apart beneath you. You can feel him getting close again despite having just come, his cock swelling impossibly harder inside you.
“Gonna come again already?” You tighten your grip on his throat fractionally and he keens. “Greedy boy. So desperate for it.”
“Please—” It’s barely a whisper. “Please, Muse, I need—”
“I know what you need.” You lean down to bite at his jaw, his neck, marking him the way he marked you. “Need to come inside me again. Need to fill me up until it’s dripping down my thighs.”
“Yes! fuck yes,please let me—”
“Then come,” you order, releasing his throat and clenching around him as hard as you can. “Come for me, Hyunjin.”
He does, with a shout that’s definitely going to have your neighbors complaining, his whole body seizing as he spills inside you. The feeling of it, the heat and the way he pulses, triggers your own orgasm; smaller than the first two but no less intense for it.
You collapse onto his chest, both of you gasping for air. His arms come around you immediately, holding you close despite the way you’re both trembling.
“Jesus Christ,” he finally manages, voice absolutely wrecked. “You’re trying to kill me.”
“Payback,” you mumble against his skin, feeling the rapid thump of his heart beneath your cheek.
“Worth it.” His hand slides up to cradle the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. “So fucking worth it.”
You can feel him softening inside you, the mess of both of you starting to leak out, but neither of you move. Just lie there tangled together, his thumb stroking lazy circles against your scalp.
“So,” he says after a while, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “About that date…”
You bite his shoulder hard enough to make him yelp. “One thing at a time, Hwang.”
His laugh rumbles through his chest. “Yes ma’am.”
You shift to look up at him, finding him watching you with an expression so soft it makes your breath catch. His free hand comes up to trace the curve of your face, thumb brushing over your cheekbone.
“Lemme stay,” he says quietly. “Tonight. Don’t kick me out this time.”
“I never kicked you out—”
“You very politely suggested that I had to go.” His lips quirk. “Three times. Spring semester, twice over summer. Same thing.”
You study his face; the vulnerability lurking beneath the teasing, the hope he’s trying to hide. “You’re clingy when you’re fucked out.”
“Mhmm,” he admits, no shame in it. “So is that a yes?”
You could say no. Should probably establish some boundaries, maintain some distance. But you’re warm and sated and he’s looking at you like that, and—
“Fine,” you relent. “But you’re the big spoon because I’m not sleeping on my back all night.”
His grin is blinding. “Deal.”
He finally pulls out, both of you wincing at the sensitivity, and disappears to your bathroom. Returns with a warm washcloth and cleans you up with a gentleness that feels at odds with how you’d just fucked each other into the mattress.
“Such a gentleman,” you tease as he tosses the cloth aside and climbs back into bed.
“Only for you,” he says again, pulling you against his chest and draping himself around you. His hand splays across your stomach, thumb tracing idle patterns on your skin. “See? Perfect big spoon.”
You hum in agreement, already feeling sleep pulling at you. His warmth surrounds you, solid and safe, and you find yourself relaxing into it despite your better judgment.
“Muse?” His voice is soft, almost hesitant.
“Mm?”
“I meant what I said. About wanting this to be real. About—” He pauses and you feel him press a kiss to your shoulder. “About all of it.”
Your heart does something complicated in your chest. “I know.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You lace your fingers with his where they rest on your stomach. “Now shut up and let me sleep.”
His quiet laugh stirs your hair. “Okay, baby.”
And wrapped in his arms, his heartbeat steady against your back, you let yourself drift off with a small smile on your face.
You wake up to a wet, heated sensation between your legs and when you look down, Hyunjin’s looking up at you from between your thighs, morning light filtering through your curtains and painting his skin gold.
“About time you woke up. Been down here for half an hour, baby.”
“Hyune,” you breathe, still half-asleep, and your hand automatically goes to his hair.
“Love it when you call me that.” He mumbles against your inner thigh, teeth scraping over the sensitive skin. You can already see the marks blooming there, evidence of his dedication. “Especially all sleepy like this.”
Your brain is still foggy with sleep, trying to catch up, but your body already knows; hips lifting into his mouth, thighs spreading wider to give him better access.
“Half an hour?” you manage, voice rough. “Why didn’t you—ah—wake me?”
He pulls back just enough to smirk up at you, lips glistening. “Wanted to see how long it would take. How deep I could get you before you woke up.” His tongue drags slowly through your folds and your grip tightens in his hair. “You were making the prettiest sounds in your sleep, Muse. Kept saying my name.”
“I did not—”
“You did.” He punctuates it with a kiss to your inner thigh, sucking another mark. “Kept squirming too, pressing that perfect ass back against me. Think you were dreaming about me?”
You were, actually. Hazy images of last night and the early hours of the morning bleeding into new scenarios, his hands and mouth everywhere. But you’re not about to admit that.
“You’re imagining things,” you say, trying for dismissive but it comes out breathy when he sucks a mark higher on your thigh.
“Am I?” His hands slide up to grip your hips, fingers pressing into the soft flesh there as he pulls you closer to the edge of the bed, to his mouth. “Then why are you so wet already? Been like this since I started, baby. So ready for me.”
His mouth returns to where you need it, tongue circling your clit with maddening precision. He’s not rushing, not trying to make you come quickly; just exploring, savoring, taking his time like he has all day.
“Hyunjin—” Your head falls back against the pillow as he slides two fingers inside, curling them just right. “Fuck—”
“Love the way you say my name,” he murmurs against you, the vibration making you gasp. “Especially first thing in the morning, all sleepy and needy.” He adds a third finger and you arch off the bed. “Missed waking up with you. Missed getting to do this.”
You want to tell him he’s only been in your bed three times before—spring semester, twice over summer—and each time you’d basically kicked him out the morning after. That this isn’t some regular thing. But then he swirls his tongue over your clit before sucking making your thighs shake, and all coherent thought evaporates.
“That’s it,” he encourages, feeling you clench around his fingers. “Let me take care of you, Muse. Let me make you feel good.”
His free hand slides up your stomach, over your ribs, palming your breast. His thumb brushes over your nipple and the dual sensation has you arching into his touch. He’s everywhere, surrounding you, consuming you, and it’s overwhelming in the best way.
“Close already?” There’s satisfaction in his voice as your hips start rolling against his face. “That’s my girl. So responsive for me.”
“Don’t—ah,don’t stop—”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He seals his lips around your clit and sucks, fingers pumping faster, and you squirt with a cry that echoes off the bedroom walls as you make a mess of his face and your sheets.
He works you through it, gentling his touches as you come down, pressing soft kisses to your thighs, your hip bones, your stomach. When he finally crawls back up your body, his face is wet with you and he’s grinning like he’s won the lottery.
“Good morning,” he says, entirely too pleased with himself.
You’re still trying to remember how to breathe. “You’re insane.”
“Crazy about you,” he corrects, dropping a kiss to your shoulder. Then another to your collarbone. “Couldn’t help myself. You looked so pretty sleeping, and I’ve been thinking about doing that since you kicked me out last time.”
“I didn’t kick you out—”
“You strongly suggested I should leave because you had shit to do,” he reminds you, nipping at your jaw. “Wouldn’t even let me stay for breakfast. Three different times.”
“Because it was supposed to be a one-time thing.”
“Three-time thing,” he corrects. “And clearly not a one-time anything because here we are again and you’re not exactly complaining.”
He’s not wrong. You should be kicking him out right now, reestablishing boundaries, reminding him that one date doesn’t mean he gets to—
“Stop thinking so loud,” he murmurs, kissing your temple. “I can literally hear you overthinking from here.”
“I’m not—”
“You are.” He shifts, settling beside you so he can look at you properly. His hair is a mess from your hands, lips swollen, and there’s something soft in his eyes that makes your chest tight. “Look, I know this is complicated. I know you’ve got reasons for keeping me at arm’s length. But Muse…” His hand cups your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone. “I meant what I said last night. I want this. Want you. Not just the sex—though fuck, the sex is incredible—but all of it.”
“Hyunjin…”
“I’m not asking you to marry me,” he says quickly. “Just…give me a real chance. Let me take you on that date. Let me prove that you’re more than a hookup.”
The earnestness in his voice, in his expression, makes something in your chest crack open. Because the truth is, you want it too. Want him. Have wanted him since that first night when he stayed after, ordering takeout and arguing with you about the themes in the book you were teaching, making you laugh until your sides hurt before he rearranged your guts again.
“Like I said, one date,” you hear yourself say, and his face lights up. “But if you screw this up—”
“I won’t.” He’s kissing you before you can finish the threat, enthusiastic and clumsy and perfect. “I promise, Muse. I’m gonna make you so happy you agreed to this.”
“You’re still in my bed naked,” you point out. “Shouldn’t you go home and shower or something?”
His grin turns wicked. “Actually, I was thinking we could shower together. Save water. Be environmentally conscious.”
“That is not—”
But he’s already pulling you up, laughing at your protests, and somehow you end up in the shower with him anyway. His hands are gentle as he washes your hair, his kisses slow and sweet under the spray, and you let yourself have this—have him—without overthinking it for once.
When you finally emerge, clean and wrapped in towels, he immediately starts raiding your closet.
“What are you doing?”
“Finding clothes,” he says, pulling out one of your hoodies. “This’ll work.”
“That’s mine.”
“It’s ours now.” He pulls it on and it’s slightly too small on him, riding up to show a strip of his stomach, but he looks entirely too pleased with himself. “Perfect.”
“You should go home and get your own clothes.”
“Why?” He asks pulling the sheet off of your bed looking at you expectantly as you pass him a fresh set which he puts on before he sprawls on it like he owns it. “It’s Saturday. Neither of us has anywhere to be.”
“Don’t you have—I don’t know, plans? Things to do?”
“My only plan was you,” he says, patting the space next to him. “And I’m exactly where I want to be.”
You should insist. Should maintain some boundaries, not let him get too comfortable. But he’s looking at you with those warm eyes, your too-small hoodie riding up to show that strip of stomach, and you find yourself giving in.
“Fine,” you relent, settling next to him on the bed. “But you’re buying or making food as long as you’re here.”
“Deal.” He immediately pulls you against him, arranging you so your back is against his chest, his arms wrapped around your middle. “What do you want to do today?”
“I was going to catch up on that show I mentioned.”
“The murder mystery one?”
You twist to look at him, surprised. “How did you know?”
He shrugs, but there’s something vulnerable in his expression. “You mentioned it. Three weeks ago, after your TA session. You said it looked interesting but you hadn’t had time.”
Your chest does something complicated. “You remember that?”
“I remember everything you tell me,” he says simply.
“You’re such a simp.”
“Only for you,” he says, and presses a kiss to your temple. “Now come on, let’s go watch your show. But I’m warning you, it’s always the butler.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s always the butler.” He sounds entirely too confident.
“That’s such a cliché—”
“Wanna bet?”
You twist to look at him. “What are the stakes?”
His grin is wicked. “If I’m right, you come to my friends’ New Year’s party with me.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“Then I’ll stop interrupting your dates.”
You snort. “You’re that confident?”
“In my detective skills? Absolutely.” He pauses. “Also I may have already watched the first episode when you mentioned it.”
“Hwang Hyunjin!”
He’s laughing now, trying to fend off your playful smacks. “What! I wanted to be able to talk to you about it! That’s romantic!”
“That’s cheating!”
“Okay, okay—” He catches your wrists, still grinning. “New bet. Come to the party with me anyway, and if the butler isn’t the killer, I’ll make you that pasta dish you said looked good on Instagram.”
“You follow my Instagram?”
“Have for months,” he admits, shameless. “You post the best food pics. Also that selfie you posted last week? In the library? Saved it.”
You don’t know whether to be flattered or concerned. “You’re obsessed.”
“Completely,” he agrees easily. “So? Deal?”
You should say no. Should not agree to go to a party with his friends, to blur these lines even further. But he’s looking at you hopefully, and—
“Fine. But the pasta better be amazing if you’re wrong.”
“It will be,” he promises, and seals it with a kiss.
You end up on the couch, you settled between his legs with your back against his chest, starting the show. He was right, the butler did do it, which he’s entirely too smug about. But you find you don’t really mind, especially when he keeps pressing random kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your jaw, clearly only half-paying attention to the show.
“Hyune,” you murmur during the second episode. “You’re missing it.”
“Don’t care,” he says against your skin. “This is better.”
“The whole point of watching together—”
“Is spending time with you. Which I’m doing.” He nips at your earlobe. “The murder mystery is just a bonus.”
You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. “You’re impossible.”
“You like it,” he counters, and you can hear the smile in his voice.
Halfway through the fifth episode, your stomach growls loudly. Hyunjin laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest into your back.
“Lunch?” he suggests.
“It’s almost two. More like late lunch.”
“Even better.” But he doesn’t let go of you, just tightens his arms. “In a minute.”
“Hyunjin, I’m hungry.”
“Just—” He buries his face in your neck. “One more minute like this.”
Something warm and dangerous blooms in your chest. “Okay. One more minute.”
You give him five before standing up and pulling him with you toward the kitchen. “Come on. If you’re staying, you’re helping.”
“What are we making?”
“I was thinking cheesy kimchi fried rice? Nothing fancy, but—”
“Perfect,” he interrupts, already moving toward your fridge. “Comfort food. I can work with that.”
You expect him to be useless in the kitchen—he gives off those vibes—but he surprises you. He moves around your space with ease, finding things without asking.
“You can actually cook,” you observe, surprised.
“My mom made sure I all knew the basics,” he says, focused on cutting sausages and spam.
“And?”
“I’m no chef but I can handle myself fairly well in the kitchen,” he says. “It’s not really different from painting or drawing once you get used to it.”
“Big talk.”
“You’ll see.”
You work together comfortably; you handle the side dishes while he fries the rice. He keeps stealing touches; a hand on your waist as he moves past you, fingers brushing yours when you hand him the cheese, a kiss pressed to your shoulder when you’re stirring the adding radish to a bowl.
“You’re very touchy today,” you comment, not exactly complaining.
“Making up for lost time,” he says simply. “Plus you keep trying to kick me out in the mornings. Gotta get my fill while I can.”
“I don’t—” You pause. “Okay, maybe I do.”
“You do.” He flips the sandwich expertly. “Spring semester, you basically pushed me out the door. Said you had to work on your thesis.”
“I did have to work on my thesis.”
“At 7 AM on a Sunday?”
“…Yes?”
He gives you a look that says he doesn’t believe you for a second. “And the first time in summer, you had that ‘emergency meeting’ with your advisor.”
“That was real!”
“Mhm. And the second time, you suddenly remembered you had plans with your friends.”
You’re quiet, because okay, he’s got you there. Each time you’d basically panicked the morning after, overwhelmed by how comfortable it felt having him in your space, how much you didn’t want him to leave. So you’d created excuses, put up walls, tried to maintain distance.
“I’m sorry,” you say finally. “That was shitty of me.”
“Hey.” He turns and faces you properly, hands on your hips. “I get it. I’m younger, still in undergrad, not exactly what you probably pictured for yourself. And I came on really strong that first time. I get why you freaked out.”
“It’s not—” You struggle with the words. “It’s not about your age, really. It’s just…complicated.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” he says softly. “We can just…be. No pressure, no expectations. Just us figuring this out together.”
“You make it sound simple.”
“Because it is.” He cups your face in his hands looking at you. “I like you. You like me. Everything else is just noise.”
You want to argue, to point out all the ways it’s not that simple. But he’s looking at you with such earnest honesty that you find yourself nodding instead.
“Okay,” you say. “We can try.”
His smile is brilliant. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. But Hyunjin?” You poke his chest. “No more interrupting my dates.”
“Deal. Mainly because you won’t be going on them anymore.”
“Cocky.”
“Confident,” he corrects, and kisses you until the rice is in danger of burning.
You eat lunch curled up on the couch, his arm around your shoulders, arguing about the show and laughing at his terrible theories about who’s going to die next. It’s easy, comfortable, like you’ve been doing this for years instead of dancing around each other for months.
“So this party,” you say eventually. “Your friends’ New Year’s thing.”
“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” he says quickly. “I know I kind of blackmailed you into agreeing—”
“I’ll come,” you interrupt. “Might be nice.”
His face lights up. “Really?”
“Really. But Hyunjin?” You level him with a look. “This counts as our first date, right? The party?”
“What? No!” He sits up, looking genuinely distressed. “No, I’m taking you on a proper date first. Dinner, the whole thing. The party is just…the party.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” he insists. “I want to do this right, Muse. Take you somewhere nice, show you off, prove I’m not just—” He gestures vaguely. “I want to date you. Properly.”
The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tight. “Okay. When?”
“Monday?” he suggests. “I know this place downtown, really good food, and it’s quiet enough that we can actually talk.”
“Monday works,” you agree, smiling at his enthusiasm.
“Perfect.” He pulls you back against him, clearly pleased with himself. “It’s a date.”
“It’s a date,” you confirm, and let him hold you as you finish lunch, the show playing forgotten in the background.
He doesn’t leave until nearly evening, and even then it’s reluctantly, with promises to text you when he gets home and reminders about Monday. When the door finally closes behind him, your apartment feels too quiet, too empty.
You’re in so much trouble.
Monday—The Date
Hyunjin shows up at your door an hour early, flowers in hand and wearing a sleek all-black ensemble that makes him look unfairly good while you’re still getting ready.
“You look beautiful,” he says, and the way he’s looking at you—like you’re the only thing in the world worth seeing—makes you believe him despite your half-dressed state and bare feet.
“You’re early.”
“I missed you.”
You hum, stepping aside to let him in but your eyes are still dragging over him from head to toe. That deep-cut silk shirt is doing traitorous things to your lower regions, the fabric clinging to his frame in ways that should be illegal. The top three buttons are undone, exposing his collarbones and a hint of his chest, and the way the material catches the light makes your mouth go dry.
“These are gorgeous, thank you.” You take the flowers from him—red and white roses, your favorites, which means he remembered—with a kiss to his cheek and move to the kitchen to place them in a vase with water. Your hands are steadier than you feel as you arrange them, hyperaware of his presence behind you, the weight of his gaze.
“Not as gorgeous as you,” he murmurs against your temple.
You roll your eyes but can’t suppress your smile as you continue to arrange the flowers carefully before placing them on the counter where you can see them.
When you turn back, he’s still watching you with that look that makes your stomach flip.
“Come on,” you say, gesturing toward your bedroom. “I still need to finish getting ready.”
He follows, settling onto your bed in that way he does; legs spread just enough to be distracting, one arm propped behind him, looking like he belongs there. Like he’s always belonged there.
You move back to your vanity, trying to focus on putting in your second earring, but you can feel his eyes on you in the mirror. Tracking every movement.
“You’re staring,” you say without looking at him directly.
“Can you blame me?”
Your eyes find his in the mirror, and something about the way he’s looking at you—hungry but patient, like he’s content to just watch you exist—makes heat pool low in your belly. Your mouth speaks before you can stop yourself.
“Unbuckle your belt and unzip your pants.”
There’s a beat of silence. “What?”
“You heard me.” You turn on your heels, the satin of your dress whispering against your skin as you face him fully. “Or are you going to pretend like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing, showing up an hour early and dressed like lust incarnate?”
You walk toward him slowly, deliberately, watching the way his throat works as he swallows. The deep-cut back of your dress matches his aesthetic perfectly—the two of you look like vampire royalty, all dark elegance and barely restrained hunger.
He smirks, but his hands don’t move. “What are you planning?”
“To suck your cock.”
The bluntness of it makes his eyes darken further, his pupils blown wide. You stop in front of him, leaning forward with your hands on his thighs, giving him a perfect view down the front of your dress. No bra—just you and the slippery satin and the promise of what’s underneath.
“Unless you’d rather just sit there looking pretty?” you murmur, your voice dropping to something darker, more teasing.
“We have reservations,” he says, but his voice is rough, strained.
“In an hour.” Your hands slide higher, fingertips grazing the buckle of his belt. “Plenty of time.”
“Fuck,” he breathes, and then his hands are moving, unbuckling, unzipping, giving you what you want because he always does. Always will. The metallic clink as he unbuckles it sends a thrill through you. He unzips his pants, lifting his hips just enough to push them down slightly, and the sight of him—already half-hard and straining against his boxer briefs—makes your mouth water.
You sink to your knees between his legs, and the look on his face—reverent and wrecked and completely gone for you—makes every second worth it.
“Someone’s eager,” you observe, trailing one finger along the outline of him through the fabric.
His hips jerk involuntarily. “You can’t say shit like that and expect me not to be.”
You smile, slow and satisfied, the carpet is soft beneath you, and the way he’s looking down at you—pupils blown wide, lips parted, chest rising and falling a little too fast—makes you feel powerful.
“We’re going to be late,” he manages, even as his hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing over your cheekbone with surprising tenderness.
“Then we’ll be late.” You hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxer briefs, tugging them down just enough to free him. “Besides, you showed up early. This is on you.”
Whatever response he has dies on his lips the moment yours wrap around him.
The restaurant he’s chosen is intimate and upscale, the kind of place with candlelight and wine lists that read like novels. You’re grateful you touched up your makeup in the car, though Hyunjin had watched you do it with a satisfied smirk that suggested he wasn’t sorry at all for the delay.
“Stop looking so smug,” you tell him as the host leads you to your table.
“I’m not smug. I’m content. There’s a difference.”
“Mmhm.” But you’re smiling too as he pulls out your chair for you, ever the gentleman despite what happened less than an hour ago.
Dinner is perfect. He’s charming and attentive, asking about your research with genuine interest, actually listening to your answers instead of just waiting for his turn to talk. He asks follow-up questions, remembers details you mentioned weeks ago, makes connections you hadn’t even considered.
He tells you about his classes; about the choreography project that’s been consuming him, the way movement can tell stories that words can’t. He talks about his friends with obvious affection, about his plans after graduation (vague and artistic and somehow perfectly him), about the contemporary dance company he’s been considering auditioning for.
The conversation flows easily, punctuated by his terrible jokes that still somehow make you laugh, by the way he reaches across the table to steal bites from your plate, by the comfortable silences that don’t feel awkward at all.
“This is nice,” you say over dessert, watching him fight with a particularly stubborn piece of chocolate cake after finishing your tiramisu.
“Yeah?” He grins, victorious as he finally gets the fork to cooperate. “Told you I could do dates.”
“Don’t get too cocky.”
“Too late,” he says, but his eyes are warm, crinkling at the corners with genuine happiness. “Besides, you like it.”
You do. God help you, you really do. You like his confidence, his humor, the way he looks at you like you’re something precious. You like how he makes you feel—desired and seen and worth the effort. You like how he remembers small details you’ve mentioned in passing, how he laughs at your sarcasm instead of being put off by it.
“Maybe,” you concede, stealing his hard-won bite of cake just to watch him protest.
He gasps in mock outrage. “Betrayal! Treachery!”
“Should’ve eaten faster.”
“You’re terrible,” he says, but he’s laughing, flagging down the waiter to order a second dessert, and when it arrives, he makes a big show of guarding it from you.
The drive home is quieter, softer. His hand finds yours on the center console, fingers intertwining, and you let yourself enjoy the simple intimacy of it. The city lights blur past the windows, painting streaks of gold and red across the darkness, and you feel oddly at peace.
When he drops you home that night, he walks you to your door like a perfect gentleman. Kisses you with a sweetness that makes your chest ache, all soft lips and gentle hands framing your face. He pulls back before it can turn into more, before either of you can get swept away, and the restraint in his eyes tells you how much it costs him.
“New Year’s Eve,” he reminds you, thumbs stroking your cheekbones. “I’ll pick you up at nine?”
“I’ll be ready.”
He kisses you once more, quick and sweet, before stepping back. “Wear something eye catching. My friends are going to love you but I want them to be a little jealous too.”
You laugh, shaking your head. “Goodnight, Hyunjin.”
“Goodnight, beautiful.”
And as you watch him walk away, hands in his pockets, turning back once to flash you that devastating smile, you realize you’re actually looking forward to it; to meeting his friends, to being by his side, to whatever this thing between you is becoming.
You’re definitely in trouble.
But maybe, just maybe, that’s okay.
Inside, you lean against the door, fingers touching your lips where you can still feel the ghost of his kiss. The flowers he brought sit on your counter, beautiful and bright, and your phone buzzes with a text.
Hyune🥟🥰: Already missing you
You: You just left
Hyune🥟🥰: Doesn’t change anything
Hyune🥟🥰: Dream about me
You smile, biting your lip, and type back:
You: Bold of you to assume I don’t already
Your phone rings immediately, his name flashing on the screen and when you answer you can hear the grin in his voice.
“Now who’s being cocky?”
“Learned from the best,” you counter, moving through your apartment, already starting your nighttime routine.
“I really did have a good time tonight,” he says, and the softness in his voice catches you off guard.
“Me too.”
“Even the part where you made us late?”
“Especially that part.”
His laugh is warm and rich through the phone. “I should let you sleep. But I’m serious about New Year’s. You’re going to have fun, I promise.”
“I believe you.”
“Good.” A pause. “Sweet dreams.”
“You too.”
After you hang up, you go through the motions of getting ready for bed, but your mind keeps drifting back to him—the way he looked at you, the way he listened, the way he kissed you goodbye like it hurt to leave.
Yeah. You’re definitely in trouble.
But as you slip between your sheets, your phone on the nightstand still warm from talking to him, you can’t bring yourself to mind.
New Year’s Eve
Hyunjin is nervous.
This is stupid—he’s not a nervous person. He’s confident, self-assured, usually has no problem with social situations. But tonight feels important in a way he can’t quite articulate.
He’s bringing his pussy fairy to meet his friends.
He really needs to stop calling you that, even in his head. But the nickname stuck after that first night back in spring, when he’d gone to your apartment thinking it would be like every other hookup; good sex, pleasant enough conversation, then he’d bounce and never think about it again.
Except he couldn’t stop thinking about it. About you.
The way you’d looked at him like he was more than just a pretty face. The way you’d argued with him about symbolism in The Great Gatsby while you ate shitty takeout at 2 AM, actually engaging with his points instead of just agreeing or trying to move things along to more sex. The way your thighs had felt wrapped around his head, soft and perfect, the way you’d tasted—
Yeah. He’d been fucked from the start.
He’d convinced himself it was just the sex. Just really, really good sex. That’s all. He wasn’t that gone after one night.
So he’d shown up again in early summer, making up some excuse about being in the neighborhood. Went there specifically to prove to himself that it wasn’t as good as he remembered, that he’d built it up in his head. That the way you tasted, the sounds you made, the soft give of your thighs under his hands—he’d exaggerated all of it in his memory.
Except it was better. So much better. He’d spent hours between your legs that night, worshipping at the altar of your body, drunk on the taste of you, the way you pulled his hair—that had started growing out—and gasped his name. And when you’d kicked him out the next morning with some excuse about work, he’d gone home and immediately started planning how to see you again.
The third time, late summer, he’d finally admitted to himself that he was completely fucked.
Because it wasn’t just about the sex—though christ, the sex was incredible. It was everything. The way you challenged him intellectually, never letting him coast by on his looks or charm. The way you laughed at his stupid jokes, this surprised little giggle like you didn’t expect to find him funny. The way you fit against him afterward, soft and warm and perfect, even as you were already planning how to politely kick him out.
Each time you’d basically ushered him out the door the next morning with some variation of “Don’t you have class?” or “I’ve got work to do,” and each time it had stung more. Like you were trying to keep him at arm’s length, to pretend it meant nothing.
But he knew better. Had felt the way you held onto him, the way you’d whispered his name like a prayer when you came.
After that third time, he’d tried to move on. Went on a few dates, let people buy him drinks at parties, even made out with someone in a club bathroom before his brain conjured images of you—the soft curves of your body, those gorgeous thighs, the breathy way you said his name—and he had to stop.
Not even his own hand worked anymore. He’d lie in bed trying to jerk off to porn, to memories of past hookups, anything but his brain would just slide right back to you. The way your stomach felt under his palm, soft and warm. The way you’d bite your lip when you were close. The taste of you on his tongue, better than anything he’d ever had, addictive in a way that terrified him.
He’d become obsessed. Started following your Instagram, saving your photos. That selfie in the library? He’d stared at it for twenty minutes, memorizing the curve of your smile, the way your hair fell. Started “coincidentally” showing up at places you frequented. The coffee shop where you did your grading. The restaurant near your apartment.
And yeah, he’d started sabotaging your dates. He’s not proud of it, but he also wasn’t about to let some undeserving asshole sweep in when he knew—knew with absolute certainty—that he could make you happy. That he could worship you the way you deserved, spend hours learning every curve and dip of your body, make you understand that every inch of you was exactly what he wanted.
Because it was. God, it was.
He knows you’re insecure about your size. He’s seen the way you try to hide sometimes, turning off lights or angling your body. Like he isn’t completely obsessed with your softness, with the way your thighs bracket his head perfectly, with how his hands look against the curve of your hips. Like he doesn’t dream about those thighs, about burying his face between them and staying there for hours, sipping the ambrosia you provide like a man dying of thirst.
If worshipping your body means getting on his knees and begging for the privilege of tasting you—well, that’s nobody’s business but his.
There was no one meeting him at that café all those nights ago and he knew you knew that. He’d sat there for over an hour, coffee going cold, watching you through the window with that forgettable guy who didn’t even make you genuinely smile. Waiting for the perfect moment to interrupt, to remind you that you already had someone who would move heaven and earth just to make you laugh.
His friends called it unhinged. He preferred “strategic dedication.”
But it had worked. You’d finally agreed to a real date and it had been perfect—you’d been perfect, laughing at his jokes and engaging with his questions and looking at him like he mattered—and now he gets to bring you to this party and show you off to his friends and maybe, just maybe, wake up with you tomorrow without getting kicked out.
He checks his phone: 8:47 PM. He’s early. Again.
chill, Felix texts him. she already said yes. stop spiraling
Hyunjin: I’m not spiraling
Felix: you’ve texted me 6 times in the past hour asking if your outfit looks okay
Hyunjin:…fair
Felix: just be yourself. she clearly likes you
Hyunjin hopes that’s true. He takes a deep breath and heads to your door.
When you opens it, he forgets how to breathe for a second. You’re wearing this skirt—black and pleated that hugs every single one of your curves before it flares out—and your hair is down and you’re smiling at him, actually smiling, and fuck, he’s so gone for this you.
“Hey,” you says. “You’re early...again.”
“Couldn’t wait,” he admits, offering his arm. His eyes trace over you appreciatively, cataloging every curve highlighted by that outfit. “You look incredible. Like—fuck, I don’t even have words. You’re perfect.”
You take his arm and he tries not to think about how right it feels, how natural. How much he wants this all the time; picking you up, taking you places, having you by his side.
The party is already in full swing when y’all arrive. Music thumping, people everywhere, the chaotic energy of New Year’s Eve in full effect. Hyunjin keeps you close, hand on your lower back as he navigates through the crowd. Possessive, protective, mine.
“You okay?” he asks, leaning down so you can hear him over the noise.
“I’m good,” you say, and squeeze his hand.
His heart does something complicated in his chest.
His friends are gathered in the living room—Felix, Seungmin, Han, a few others. They look up when Hyunjin approaches and he sees the moment they clock who he’s brought. Felix’s eyes go wide, Han grins knowingly, and Hyunjin feels his ears go hot.
“Yo!” Felix stands, grinning. “Finally! We were starting to think you ditched.”
“I told you we’d be here,” Hyunjin says, pulling you closer. His hand slides from your lower back to your hip, thumb tracing absent circles. Mine. “Everyone, this is—”
“We know who she is,” Han interrupts, amused. “You literally haven’t shut up about her for months.”
Hyunjin feels his ears go red. “I haven’t been that bad.”
“You literally have a whole folder of restaurant recommendations saved specifically for taking her on dates,” Seungmin points out. “And you’ve been planning this party outfit for a week.”
“You also practiced your introduction in the mirror,” Han adds helpfully.
“Traitors,” Hyunjin mutters, but there’s no real heat behind it. “All of you.”
You’re laughing though, that surprised giggle he loves, and it makes the embarrassment worth it. Watching you smile, hearing you laugh—he’d endure far worse for that.
“It’s nice to meet you all properly,” you say, and Hyunjin watches his friends immediately warm to you. Felix offers you a drink, Han makes room on the couch, and just like that you’re folded into the group like you belong there.
Like you belong with him.
Hyunjin doesn’t even think about it before sitting down and pulling you onto his lap. You make a small noise of protest, and he already knows what’s coming.
“Hyunjin, I’m heavy—”
“You’re perfect,” he interrupts, arms wrapping around your waist. His hand splays across your stomach—that soft, gorgeous stomach he dreams about kissing, about resting his head on—and something possessive and warm spreads through his chest. He loves this. The weight of you, the softness, how perfectly you fit against him. “Don’t start that shit. Not with me.”
He feels you relax incrementally, settling against him, and satisfaction curls through him. Good. He wants you comfortable. Wants you to understand that every single inch of you is exactly what he wants, what he craves, what he worships.
Because he does worship you. Has since that first night when he’d put his mouth on you and thought he’d found religion. The taste of you, the sounds you made, the way your thighs had trembled around his head—he’d been addicted instantly. Had gone back specifically to prove it was a fluke, that he’d built it up in his head, that no pussy could actually be that good.
But it was. You were. Is.
He dreams about it constantly. Dreams about lazy Sunday mornings spent between your thighs, about making you come so many times you forget your own name, about the weight of your thighs around his head and the taste of you on his tongue. Dreams about worshipping every curve, every soft inch of your body until you understand how fucking perfect you are.
If that makes him pussy-whipped, so be it. He’ll wear that label proudly.
The party flows around them. His friends chat and laugh, occasionally pulling them into conversation. Hyunjin keeps you close the entire time, unconsciously possessive, one hand always on you; your hip, your thigh, your waist. Under your skirt, his fingers trace patterns on your thigh, nothing obvious to anyone watching, just maintaining contact. Touching you. Claiming you.
He can’t help it. After months of wanting, of strategic “coincidences” and interrupted dates, of lying in bed alone wishing you’d let him stay; he finally has you here, on his lap, in front of his friends. He wants to touch you constantly, to remind himself this is real.
“So how’d you two actually get together?” Felix asks at one point. “Because Hyunjin’s been pining for months but he’s been real vague on details.”
“He stalked me,” you say, completely deadpan.
“I did not—”
“You interrupted three of my dates.”
“Strategically intervened,” Hyunjin corrects, fingers tightening on your thigh. “There’s a difference.”
“He also followed me on Instagram and started emailing me when I wouldn’t respond to his texts.”
Han chokes on his drink. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“I’m not,” both of you say at the same time.
“You’re insane,” Seungmin tells him.
“I’m dedicated,” Hyunjin corrects, completely shameless. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, breathing in your scent. “And it worked, didn’t it?”
“Debatable,” you say, but you’re smiling.
“You’re here,” he points out. “On my lap. At a party with my friends on New Year’s Eve. I’d say I won.”
His hand slides a bit higher on your thigh, still hidden by your skirt, and he feels your breath catch. He knows what he’s doing—teasing you, working you up slowly. He wants you desperate for him, wants you to feel even a fraction of what he’s felt for months.
The conversation moves on, but Hyunjin only half-pays attention. He’s too focused on you—the weight of you against him, the subtle shifts as you get more comfortable, the way you laugh at Felix’s jokes and engages with Seungmin’s questions about your research. The way his hands look against your skirt, spanning your waist, claiming you.
This could be his life. You on his lap at parties, meeting his friends, being part of his world. Mornings waking up between your thighs, lazy afternoons watching shows together, nights spent exploring every inch of your body. Showing you exactly how much he wants you, needs you, worships you.
He wants it so badly it physically hurts.
“You know,” Han says during a lull in conversation, grin wicked, “I’ve never seen Hyunjin like this with anyone.”
“Like what?” You ask, and Hyunjin can hear the curiosity in your voice.
“Whipped,” Felix supplies helpfully. “Absolutely pussy-whipped.”
Hyunjin doesn’t even try to deny it. His hand slides higher on your thigh, possessive. “And? Your point?”
“No point,” Seungmin says, amused. “It’s just nice to see you actually care about someone.”
And he does. So fucking much it scares him sometimes.
His hand continues its path up your thigh, fingers now tracing the edge of your underwear, and he feels you tense slightly. He leans in, lips brushing your ear.
“Relax,” he murmurs, quiet enough that only you can hear. “No one can see. Just want to touch you.”
“Hyunjin—” your voice is strained.
“You’re so soft here,” he continues, fingers dancing along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. He loves this—the give of your flesh under his fingers, the warmth of your skin. “Love how you feel under my hands. Love that I get to touch you like this.”
“We’re in the middle of—”
“I know where we are.” His other hand splays across your stomach possessively. He can feel the soft curve of it, wants to kiss it, worship it. “Just reminding you that you’re mine. That all these curves, this perfect body, it’s mine to worship. Mine to taste. Mine to make come until you’re begging me to stop.”
He feels your breathing go shallow, feels the way you press back against him slightly.
“You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?” he whispers. “Thinking about the last time I had my face between these thighs. How I made you come three times before you finally pulled me up. How you tasted on my tongue.” Like heaven. Like home. Like everything he’s ever wanted.
“Hyunjin, I swear—”
“I could spend hours between your legs,” he continues, barely audible. “Have spent hours there. Would spend every day there if you’d let me. Tasting you, worshipping you, making you understand how fucking perfect you are.”
“Later,” he promises. “Later I’m going to take you home and remind you exactly why you agreed to give me a chance. Gonna spend hours between your legs until you forget your own name. Until the only thing you can say is mine.”
You turn your head slightly, meeting his eyes, and the heat there nearly undoes him.
“We either need to leave or find a room,” you mumble in his ear.
His brain short-circuits for a second. Then, “What?”
“You’ve been touching me for the past hour,” you say quietly. “And I’m pretty sure I’ve soaked through my underwear. So, unless you want me to sit on it right here and keep it warm…”
Oh fuck.
His cock, which has been half-hard for the past thirty minutes, goes fully hard in an instant. The mental image of you sitting on his lap, full of him, with all his friends around—
“Right here?” The words come out strangled.
You shift on his lap slightly, and it takes everything in him not to groan. “You can just slip it in. I’ll keep it nice and warm.”
Hyunjin goes completely still beneath you, his hands tightening on your thighs hard enough to bruise. He can feel his cock pressing insistently against your ass and the mental image you just painted has him seeing stars.
This is insane. You’re in the middle of a party. His friends are right here. Anyone could notice.
But God, he wants to. Wants it so badly he can barely think. Wants to be inside you, connected to you, claiming you in the most primal way possible while surrounded by people who have no idea.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “You’re going to kill me.”
“Is that a no?”
His pussy fairy—his perfect, gorgeous woman—is suggesting they fuck right here, right now, with all his friends around.
The same woman who kicks him out every morning, who’s been holding him at arm’s length for months, who finally agreed to give him a real chance—is offering him this.
He should say no. Should take you somewhere private, do this properly. Prove he’s not just about the sex, even though his dick is currently screaming at him to take you up on the offer.
But the temptation is overwhelming. The thought of being inside you, of feeling you around him while he sits here pretending everything is normal—
“Han’s room,” he manages, voice wrecked. “Second floor, last door on the right. Go up there and wait for me. Five minutes.”
“Why can’t we—”
“Because if I stand up right now, everyone’s gonna see exactly how hard you’ve got me.” His teeth catch her earlobe. “And because I need a minute to figure out if I can actually do what you’re suggesting without losing my mind and fucking you in front of everyone.”
Heat floods through him at his own words. He wants to do this right, wants to prove he’s serious about you. But he also wants you so badly he can barely see straight. Wants to worship your body the way it deserves, wants to bury himself inside you and never leave.
“Five minutes,” you agree, and slide off his lap.
The loss of your weight, your warmth, is almost painful. He watches you excuse yourself—something about needing the bathroom—and tracks your movement across the room and up the stairs. His eyes follow the sway of your hips, the curve of your body in that outfit, and his mouth goes dry.
Felix leans over. “You good, man? You look like you’re dying.”
“I’m fine,” Hyunjin lies, discreetly adjusting himself. His cock is so hard it hurts, and all he can think about is you. “Just…need a minute.”
“Uh huh.” Felix’s grin is knowing. “Sure you do.”
Hyunjin counts down—four minutes, because he literally cannot wait the full five—before standing. “Be right back.”
He doesn’t wait for responses, just heads upstairs. His heart is pounding, blood rushing south, and he can’t believe this is happening. Can’t believe you suggested it, that you want him enough to risk this.
He finds Han’s room easily, slips inside, locks the door. You’re perched on the edge of the bed, and the sight of you sitting there waiting for him makes his mouth go dry.
His pussy fairy. His muse. His everything.
“You’re early,” you say, lips curving.
“Couldn’t wait.” He crosses the room in three long strides. “You’re really trying to ruin me, aren’t you? Sitting there looking innocent while suggesting the filthiest things.”
“Is that a complaint?”
“Fuck no.” He’s on you immediately, capturing your mouth in a kiss that’s all desperation. His hands slide up your thighs, pushing your skirt up. “Been thinking about you all night. About getting my mouth on you again, tasting you, making you fall apart on my tongue.”
He wants to drop to his knees right now. Wants to bury his face between your thighs and drink until you’re begging. Wants to worship you the way you deserve, show you exactly how obsessed he is with every inch of your body.
But there’s no time, and the promise of what you suggested—
He hooks his fingers in your underwear and, yeah, you weren’t exaggerating. They’re soaked through and the evidence of your arousal makes him groan.
“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, pulling them down your legs. He brings them to his face for a second, inhaling your scent, before pocketing them. “You weren’t kidding. You’re dripping for me.”
“Your fault,” you reply breathlessly.
“Mine,” he agrees, already working his belt loose. “All mine. This perfect pussy, these gorgeous thighs, all mine to worship.”
He lines himself up, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance and he pauses to look at you.
“You really want to?” he asks. “Want to go back down there and keep me inside you?”
“Yes, please—”
He pushes in slowly, both of you groaning. Once he’s fully seated, he pauses, forehead pressed to yours. Taking a moment to just feel you; the heat of your cunt, the tight grip of your walls around him, the way you fit him so perfectly.
His pussy fairy. His muse. His everything.
“Okay,” he breathes. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do.”
He explains his plan; in ten minutes you both go back downstairs, you sit on his lap, keeping him warm while y’all chat with his friends like nothing’s happening. Your eyes go wide, dark with lust, and he knows he’s got you.
“You’re insane,” you say with a laugh.
“Crazy about you,” he corrects. “So what do you say? Think you can keep quiet?”
“Can you?”
Fair question. He’s not sure he can. The thought of sitting there, buried inside of you, surrounded by his friends while they have no idea; feeling your walls around him, warm and perfect, while he pretends to care about anything except how good you feel—
“Guess we’ll find out,” he says as he captures your mouth in a kiss.
This is insane. Unhinged. Absolutely fucking perfect.
And as he holds you close, feeling your warmth around him, Hyunjin knows with absolute certainty that he’s completely, irrevocably down horrendous for you.
Best decision he ever made.
“It’s been ten minutes,” you mumble against his neck when he still hasn’t moved.
“You feel good,” he whispers back. So good. Perfect. Like you were made for him. He never wants to leave this feeling—buried inside you, connected to you in the most intimate way possible.
“What happened to going back downstairs and having me sit on it? Don’t want your boys to know that you’re a simp?”
He pulls back to look at you, something fierce and possessive flaring in his chest. “Simp? Baby, I’ve been pussy-whipped since the first time I tasted you. They already know.”
“Then why are we still up here?”
“Because—” He rolls his hips experimentally and they both groan. “Fuck, because I’m trying really hard to behave and you feel so goddamn good that I’m about two seconds from saying fuck it and just pounding you into Han’s bed.”
“He would kill you.”
“Worth it,” he mutters but he’s already pulling out slowly, making them both whimper at the loss. He tucks himself back into his jeans, adjusting until you can’t really tell, then pulls your skirt back down. “Okay. Okay, we can do this. We’re adults. We have self-control.”
“Do we though?”
“No,” he admits with a slightly hysterical laugh. “No, we absolutely don’t. But we’re going to try anyway because I want to see if you can actually do it. Want to see you squirm on my lap trying to keep quiet while I’m buried inside you.”
He pulls you up, steadying you when your legs shake slightly. His hands smooth down your skirt, then slide around to cup your ass.
“No underwear,” he reminds you, voice rough. The thought of it—you walking back down there with nothing beneath your skirt except his cum when this is all over—makes him dizzy. “Lots of people down there and you’ve got nothing under this tiny fucking skirt except me when you sit back down.”
“Whose fault is that? You’re the one who took them.”
“And I’m keeping them,” he says smugly, patting his pocket. Another trophy. Another piece of evidence that you’re his. “Now come on, before someone comes looking for us.”
He leads you back downstairs, hand possessively on your lower back. A few people glance your way, but no one seems suspicious; just friends returning from wherever.
His spot on the couch is still empty, his friends still talking and laughing. The room is dimly lit, most of the light coming from colored LEDs and the occasional phone screen, the rest of the party having migrated to other areas of the house. Perfect. Dark enough for what you’re about to do.
Han looks up when they approach, grinning. “There you are! Thought you got lost.”
“Bathroom line,” you say smoothly and Hyunjin loves how easily the little white lie spills from your lips. How readily you’re going along with your insane suggestion and his plan.
He sits down first in the corner of the couch where it’s darkest, pulling you immediately onto his lap. You settle against him and he can feel your slight nervousness, your anticipation. His hands slide to your hips, adjusting your position, and then he shifts beneath you.
“What are you—” you start to whisper, but then he’s worked his cock free under you, hidden by the darkness and your skirt and then he’s guiding you back onto him with careful, subtle movements.
“Shh,” he breathes against your ear. “Just relax. Let me—”
The angle is different like this, and it takes a moment of careful adjustment; him lifting his hips slightly, you shifting your weight, both moving in tiny increments that look like normal fidgeting to anyone watching. The room’s darkness helps, shadows concealing the way his hand disappears under your skirt to line himself up properly.
Then he’s pushing inside, inch by torturous inch, and you have to turn your face into his neck to muffle the whimper that threatens to escape. He bites down on his own lip hard enough to taste copper, fighting the urge to groan at how fucking perfect you feel.
It feels like forever, this careful invasion, until finally he’s fully seated and you’re both trying to breathe normally. His hands settle on your waist, holding you still and he takes a moment to just revel in it; the heat of you, the tight grip of you around him, the knowledge that you’re doing this right here, right now, with everyone around you completely oblivious.
“Good girl,” he breathes directly into your ear, quiet enough that only you can hear. His hand splays across your stomach, feeling the soft curve there, grounding himself. “Now sit pretty and don’t move.”
He can feel your heart racing; can feel the way you’re trembling slightly. From arousal or nerves or both, he’s not sure but you settle against him, and fuck, you feel so good. So warm and tight and perfect around him.
This is insane. This is the craziest thing he’s ever done. And he’s never been more turned on in his life.
“I hate you,” you whisper back but it comes out shaky.
“No you don’t.” His lips brush your shoulder, innocent to anyone watching. “You love this. Love knowing that I’m inside you right now and nobody knows. That you’re completely filled with me while you’re making small talk with my friends.”
Felix is asking you something about your major and you have to focus, have to form coherent words while Hyunjin is thick, hard and long inside you, while every tiny shift makes you want to grind down.
“English Literature and Language Education,” you manage. “I’m—ah—” Hyunjin shifts slightly and you have to cover it with a cough. “I’m doing my Master’s.”
“That’s cool,” Felix says, oblivious. “Must be how you met Hyunjin then?”
“Yeah,” Hyunjin answers for you, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “She was the teaching assistant for my class. Couldn’t take my eyes off her.”
His hand slides up under your shirt, palm flat against your stomach, fingers splayed possessively. To anyone watching it just looks like he’s holding you, being affectionate. They can’t see the way his thumb is tracing patterns on your skin, the way every small movement makes him shift inside you.
“You okay?” Han asks, looking at you with slight concern. “You seem flushed.”
“Just warm,” you say quickly. “Lots of people.”
“Want me to grab you some water?” he offers, starting to stand.
“No!” You say it too quickly, too desperately, because if Han leaves that means attention on you and you’re not sure you can handle that right now. “No, I’m fine. Really.”
Hyunjin’s quiet laugh vibrates through you. His lips find your ear again. “Careful, Muse. Don’t want to seem too eager. They might figure out what we’re doing.”
“This was your idea,” you hiss back.
“And you suggested it first before I agreed to it,” he counters. “So now you’re going to sit here, full of my cock and be a good girl while I decide when I’m ready to take you home and fuck you properly.”
You’re going to die. You’re actually going to die right here on Hwang Hyunjin’s lap while his friends talk about nothing and he stays buried inside you like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“Breathe,” he murmurs, rubbing soothing circles on your stomach even though his cock is literally throbbing inside you. “You’re doing so good, baby. So perfect for me.”
Another ten minutes pass. Then twenty. Conversation flows around you and somehow you participate, laugh at jokes, respond to questions, all while fighting the desperate need to move, to grind down, to get any kind of friction.
Hyunjin is iron control beneath you, not moving except for the occasional adjustment that makes you dig your nails into his thigh. His breathing is measured, his voice steady when he talks, giving absolutely nothing away.
“You’re evil,” you finally whisper when there’s a lull in conversation.
“You love it,” he whispers back. Then, louder, to his friends: “Actually, I think we’re gonna head out. It’s getting late.”
“It’s barely midnight,” Seungmin protests.
“Yeah, but we’ve got—” Hyunjin seems to search for an excuse, “—plans tomorrow. Early plans.”
“Plans. Right. Sure,” Han’s grin is absolutely knowing.
“Shut up,” Hyunjin mutters. He shifts you forward carefully, and you feel him slip out as you stand, biting back a whimper at the loss. He’s quick to adjust himself while you smooth down your skirt, both of you trying to look casual.
“Thanks for coming,” Felix says, and you manage a smile.
“Thanks for having me. Happy New Year.”
“Anytime!” Han calls as Hyunjin grabs both your coat and his jacket before he practically drags you toward the door. “Nice meeting you officially and Happy New Year too.”
The second you’re outside, Hyunjin has you pressed against his car, kissing you breathless.
“Home,” he growls against your mouth. “Now. Because I’m going to fuck you so hard you forget your own name.”
“Promise?” you ask breathlessly.
His answering smile is absolutely feral. “Oh, baby. That’s a guarantee.”
He fumbles with his keys, gets the car unlocked but the second you’re both inside he’s on you again. Kissing you desperately, hands everywhere and you’re crawling into his lap in the driver’s seat like you can’t bear even the distance between the front seats.
“We should—” you gasp between kisses, “—should drive—”
“Can’t,” he groans, already pushing your coat and skirt up. “Need you right now. Need to be inside you right fucking now.”
“Hyunjin, we’re in a parking lot—”
“Don’t care.” His hands find your ass, gripping hard, grinding you down against the obvious bulge in his jeans. “Need you too much. Been sitting there with you on my cock and I can’t, I need—”
You’re already reaching for his belt, as desperate as he is. “Backseat. At least the backseat.”
He practically shoves you off him, both of you scrambling into the back in a tangle of limbs that would be funny if you weren’t so desperate. The space is cramped but you make it work, Hyunjin pulling you back onto his lap as soon as he’s seated.
“Someone could see—” you start but he’s already pushing his jeans down, freeing himself.
“Tinted windows,” he says, pulling you up to position you over him. “And I parked in the back. No one’s gonna—fuck—”
You sink down onto him in one smooth motion and you both groan, loud and unrestrained now that you’re alone. The angle is deeper like this, the space forcing you close together and it’s perfect.
“Move,” he demands, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. His fingers dig into the flesh there, anchoring you. “Fuck, Muse, move…please—”
You do, riding him hard and fast, chasing the release you’ve both been desperate for. The car rocks with your movements, windows already starting to fog and neither of you care. His mouth finds your neck, your collarbone, marking you up while you bounce on his cock like your life depends on it.
“That’s it,” he groans, one hand sliding between you to find your clit. “Take what you need, baby. Use me. Fuck, you’re so perfect like this, so desperate for it—”
“Your fault,” you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt. “Your fault for—ah—for making me sit there—”
“Worth it,” he pants, his other hand gripping your ass, helping you move, guiding you down harder onto him. “So fucking worth it to feel you like this now. So wet, so tight—been thinking about this the whole time—”
Your thighs are burning but you don’t stop, can’t stop, chasing the orgasm that’s been building since you first sat on his lap inside. His fingers on your clit are relentless, his cock hitting deep with every bounce, and you’re so close—
“Come for me,” he demands, voice strained. “Come on my cock, Muse. Let me feel it.”
You do, crying out his name as pleasure crashes through you, clenching around him so hard he follows immediately with a string of curses and your name, spilling inside you while you both shake apart.
You collapse against his chest, both of you breathing hard, sweaty and satisfied and completely wrecked. The windows are completely fogged now, the car still rocking slightly with the aftermath.
“We’re never doing that again,” you mumble against his neck.
“Liar,” he says, but he sounds just as destroyed. “You loved every second of it.”
And God help you but he’s right. The thrill of it, the risk, the way he’d looked at you all night like he was barely holding himself back; it was intoxicating.
“We should probably get out of here before someone actually does see us,” you point out, still not moving.
“In a minute.” His arms tighten around you, holding you close. One hand strokes up and down your back, the other still resting on your hip. “Just…give me a minute.”
You let him have it, both of you catching your breath in the cramped backseat of his car. His touch is soothing now rather than demanding, and you feel yourself relaxing despite everything.
“That was insane,” you finally say.
“That was hot as fuck,” he corrects. “You, sitting on my lap with my cock inside you while my friends had no idea? That’s going in the spank bank for the rest of my life.”
You smack his chest but you’re laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You like it.” He pauses, and there’s that vulnerability again, peeking through. “You like me.”
“Yeah,” you admit, because fuck it, you’re already in this deep. “I do.”
His smile is brilliant even in the dim light filtering through the fogged windows. “Good. Because I’m definitely not letting you go now.”
“Possessive bastard.”
“Your possessive bastard,” he corrects and kisses you soft and sweet, so different from the desperate claiming just minutes ago.
Eventually you do have to move, have to untangle yourselves and make yourselves presentable enough to drive. Hyunjin insists on taking you back to his place this time.
“Mine or yours?” he asks as he drives, one hand on your thigh. “Either way I want to wake up with you tomorrow. Actually wake up with you, not you kicking me out before I’m barely awake.”
“Yours.” You reply knowing he’s never going to let you live that down so you don’t argue, just let him drive you to his apartment. It’s small but clean, surprisingly organized for a college guy. He leads you straight to his bedroom and you’re barely through the door before he’s on you again.
This time is different. Slower. He undresses you carefully, reverently, pressing kisses to every inch of skin he reveals. Maps your body with his hands and mouth like he’s trying to memorize it.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs against your stomach, your hip, your thigh. “Can’t believe I get to have you like this.”
When he finally pushes inside you again, it’s slow and deep, his eyes locked on yours. One hand laces with yours above your head, the other cupping your face as he moves.
“Wanted this for so long,” he breathes, and there’s something raw in his voice that makes your chest tight. “Wanted you.”
You pull him down into a kiss, pouring everything you can’t say into it. He makes love to you like that—slow and thorough and achingly tender—until you’re both falling apart again, quieter this time but no less intense.
After, he cleans you up and pulls you into his arms, your back to his chest, his face buried in your hair.
“Stay,” he says quietly. “Not just tonight. Stay tomorrow too. Let me make you breakfast, take you on another date. Let me have you for the whole weekend and after that.”
You should say no. Should maintain some boundaries, some sense of self-preservation.
“Okay,” you say instead.
His arms tighten around you, and you feel him smile against your neck. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. But you’re actually making me breakfast this time. None of this ordering in bullshit.”
His laugh is warm and fond. “Deal. I make a mean omelette.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“So competitive,” he teases, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “It’s hot.”
“Everything is hot to you.”
“When it involves you? Yeah.” No shame, no hesitation. Just honesty. “You make me crazy, Muse.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” you admit quietly.
He shifts, turning you in his arms so he can look at you. His hand comes up to cup your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone.
“I know you’re scared,” he says softly. “I know this is complicated and I’m younger than you and people are going to have opinions. But I don’t care about any of that. I just care about you.”
Your throat feels tight. “Hyunjin—”
“You don’t have to say anything,” he interrupts gently. “Just…give me this weekend. Let me show you how good this could be. And if at the end of it you still want to keep me at arm’s length, I’ll respect that. I won’t like it, but I’ll respect it.”
You study his face; the sincerity in his eyes, the vulnerability he’s showing you. This boy who could have anyone, who’s choosing you.
“This weekend,” you agree. “But Hyunjin? I’m already in deeper than I meant to be.”
His smile is soft, understanding. “Good. Because so am I, probably been this way since before we hooked up if I’m being honest.
“That was almost a year ago.”
“I know.” He presses his forehead to yours. “Took me months to work up the courage to even talk to you outside of class. A couple more to convince you to give me a chance. I’m playing the long game here, Muse.”
Something warm and terrifying blooms in your chest. “You’re really serious about this.”
“Dead serious.” He kisses you softly. “Now sleep. We’ve got a whole weekend ahead of us, and I plan to make the most of every minute.”
You let him pull you close, let yourself relax into his warmth. And for the first time in months, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, this could actually work.
“Hyunjin?” you murmur, already half-asleep.
“Mm?”
“You better not fuck this up.”
His laugh rumbles through his chest. “I won’t. Promise.Happy New Year,Muse.”
You whisper it back to him, wrapped in his arms, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, as you drift off to sleep with a smile on your face.
Maybe Hwang Hyunjin being pussy-whipped isn’t such a bad thing after all.
warnings: unprotected sex; fingering; handjob; oral sex (f!receiving); dirty talk; praising; dry humping; orgasm denial; edging; begging; squirting; mirror sex; spit kink; reader is a switch (and a superwoman because omg)
summary: after the first time, the boys argued about who would be the one to give you the biggest orgasm, and you all came to the same conclusion: they all have to have a turn with you
day 25 of The 25 Days of Stay
part of the wheel of pleasure series
a/n: THE WHEEL IS BACK MY LOVES 🥳 and also i can't believe this is the last fic of my christmas event so THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL YOUR LOVE AND SUPPORT I HOPE YOU LOVED IT AS MUCH AS I DID 🩷
a/n2: i edited and proofread it quickly, so there might be some mistakes and notes to myself that i write while editing (like "change this part" or "add this here" or "continue with this") that i missed, so if you see them... no you didn't (joking 😊)
it’s christmas morning, and the dorm feels warmer and livelier than it usually does. maybe it’s because all eight boys are here and piled into the living room, blankets everywhere, holiday music playing too loud, and a lot of gifts surrounding all of you. you drop down between them, still half-asleep, and someone immediately hands you a mug of hot chocolate.
“merry christmas”, chan says, his dimples showing, his hair a mess.
the others echo him in different versions - deeper voices, half-mumbled voices, excited ones. you all open your gifts together, taking turns, teasing each other, laughing when hyunjin dramatically gasps over his gift like it’s the end of the world.
minho pretends he doesn’t like the cat-themed socks you got him, but he doesn’t let anyone else touch them. seungmin sits close enough that your knees bump every time he shifts. felix keeps smiling at you every time you unwrap something, like he’s waiting for your reaction.
it’s easy, comfortable. soft laughter, jokes here and then and eight pairs of eyes that linger on you a little longer than normal. you feel it. the unspoken thing. the aware thing. the thing you’ve all been dancing around for months.
when the last gift is opened, everyone relaxes, sitting back, just enjoying the christmas morning and seeing everyone’s gifts. when the room turns into a gentle space, you slip away with a quiet “i’ll be right back” that no one questions, they just watch you go.
you close your bedroom door behind you and take a breath, letting the silence settle. then, you reach under your bed and pull out the small box you hid there a week ago. the last gift - not exactly for you only, it’s for them too, or at least for the one that gets to take it off of you.
the set is lace, delicate, detailed, undeniably meant for being seen, admired, desired. you run your fingers over it, nerves fluttering in your stomach, excitement warming your skin. you already had a taste of this some time ago, but you need more. you need all of them. just like they need you.
when you put it on, the air in the room changes. the lace settles against your skin like it was made only for you, soft and delicate in a way that makes you shiver when you adjust the straps. you take a slow breath and move to the mirror, the reflection hitting you all at once.
the set hugs every curve, tracing the lines of your body with thin, teasing patterns that leave just enough to the imagination. the colour warms your skin, makes your figure look softer in some places, sharper in others.
you look… unreal.
not the idol version of yourself, not the “ninth member” everyone sees on stage, but the version of you that’s been simmering quietly underneath, waiting for the right moment to step forward. confident. irresistible. someone who knows exactly what she’s offering and exactly how much they’re going to want it.
heat blooms in your chest as you take yourself in. you feel powerful and undeniably desired, even before any of the boys has seen you.
you smooth the lace one more time and open your door.
the moment you walk into the living room and they look up, the atmosphere shifts. eight heads turn at once. eight mouths fall open, like the words they need simply won’t come out. their eyes widen, soft gasps break the quiet, and suddenly the room is still, completely, utterly still.
changbin actually forgets how to blink. chan sits up straighter. felix’s freckles seem to darken as his face goes red. seungmin swallows hard enough that you hear it. you don’t know which reaction turns you on more.
you walk forward slowly, each step deliberate. every pair of eyes follows you like they’re caught, like it’s the only thing they can do.
“so”, you say, your voice steady and confident, “are you ready for your next gift?”
none of them answer. they can’t. they just stare, completely undone, as you bite your lip. you can’t lie and say you’re not enjoying the effect you have on them.
“use that damn wheel to decide the order”, you say, amusement threading through your voice, “you already know what we’re gonna do”
you let the words hang in the air, thick with meaning, and then, you turn around, walk back to your bedroom, and close the door behind you. you sit on the edge of the bed, then lie back slowly, sinking into the pillows, your heart beating in a steady, excited rhythm.
you lie there, waiting for whichever one of them the wheel chooses first. you let your fingers rest lightly on your stomach, following the lace’s outline as your thoughts drift, uninvited, to the last time you all played this game.
the memory settles over you slowly, warm and breathless. the way they looked at you that night comes back vividly. the hesitation, the tension. you remember the way they hovered close during each of their turns with you, their voices dropping, their eyes flicking to you like they couldn’t help themselves. the way your name sounded when spoken from different mouths, different tones. the way all of them teased you, the way all of them made you come again and again.
that same feeling stirs now as you feel yourself getting wet, a quiet anticipation that settles low and warm, buzzing under your skin. last time was completely new, this time you know what you’re playing with, or at least you think you do.
and you don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.
the anticipation pushes you upright before you realise you’re moving. you stand and walk towards the mirror, drawn to your own reflection. you tilt your head, checking the angle, the lines, the way your hair falls over your shoulders. your heartbeat ticks louder at the sight of yourself, at the knowledge of what’s coming.
and that’s when you hear it, the soft click of your door unlocking.
you turn just as it opens. hyunjin steps inside and the door clicks shut behind him. his eyes are fixed on you immediately, like he can’t look anywhere else even if he tries. just like the last time, he’s wearing nothing but his boxers. his hair is slightly messy and his breath unsteady like he ran here the second the wheel stopped.
you smile, slow and knowing, letting your fingers rest on your hip, accentuating the lace.
“hi”, you say, your voice soft but unmistakably teasing.
his eyes flick up to yours, dark, warm, hungry, already undone.
“you’re… you’re kidding”, he says, taking a step closer to you without realising it, “you look even better than last time, i-”, he cuts himself off, his jaw flexing, his breath catching as he takes in the full view, closer this time.
you take a single step towards him, stopping just close enough for him to feel the heat of your body.
“i see the wheel picked you first again, hyunjin”, you say, tilting your head.
he lets out a quiet, shaky laugh, rubbing his palm against the back of his neck.
“yeah, i didn’t even wait for the others to react. i just-”, his eyes trail down and back up, slow, “you look unreal, y/n. seriously. i don’t… i don’t even know where to look”
you raise a brow, amused, “everywhere is an option”
he swallows hard, audibly.
“you’re doing this on purpose”, he says, stepping even closer, “standing here, looking like this”
“of course i am”, you say, letting your fingers trace lightly down your body, the lace shifting with the movement, “isn’t that how a gift works?”
he breathes out a curse under his breath, running a hand through his hair as if he’s trying to stop himself from grabbing you immediately.
“you’re gonna kill me”, he says, his voice low and desperate.
you lean in just a little, close enough that your lips brush his jaw, “we should have some fun first”
his breath stutters, he’s helplessly wrecked by the suggestion. you pull back half a step, just enough to watch his reaction, his eyes staying fixed on your body. he doesn’t know what to say, he can’t find the words, so you continue.
“okay then…”, you say, your voice low, teasing, “come and get your gift”
his mouth meets yours before you can say anything else, kissing you like he’s been holding back since the last time you did this. his hands move to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and the moan he lets out when your bodies touch goes straight through you.
you kiss him back just as eagerly, your hands sliding up his bare shoulders, feeling the heat of his skin under your palms. he shivers when your fingertips brush the nape of his neck, and his lips part against yours, deepening the kiss instantly.
his hand glides up your back, tracing the curves of your body, tracing the new lace with his fingers. when his thumb strokes just under the edge of it, his breath catches against your mouth.
“you’re seriously trying to kill me”, he says between kisses, his voice warm and ragged.
“maybe”, you say, letting your lips brush the corner of his jaw before returning to his mouth, kissing him harder.
he groans and his other hand cups your jaw, angling your face up to him. his kiss turns deeper, firmer, like he wants to devour every sound you make.
you feel his chest rise sharply against yours, the heat of him bleeding through the thin lace and the thinner air between you. he moves you back a step, then another, until your spine meets the dresser in your room.
your fingers tangle in his hair, and he breaks the kiss just long enough to look at you. his lips are parted, slightly swollen, his eyes dark and blown wide.
“you look so good like this”, he says, “in that lace, like you’re waiting for me to do something”
you lean in, your lips ghosting his, teasing him.
“then don’t keep me waiting”
and that’s all it takes.
he kisses you again, harder this time, his body pressing against yours, his breath mixing with yours, his hands roaming with growing urgency as the room fills with the sound of shared, shaky breaths and your lips meeting again and again, deeper each time.
his mouth trails down to your jaw, then to your neck. his hands slide up your sides again, his fingers tracing the lace until they find the clasp of your bra. the pads of his fingers brush your skin, sending a sharp tremor through your chest. he feels it and a soft, breathy laugh escapes him.
“you’re shaking”, he says, almost proud.
“you’re the one doing that”, you say.
his smile curves, small and wicked. the clasp gives easily under his touch, and he slides the straps off your shoulders one at a time. when the bra finally falls away, his hands move to your waist, his thumbs stroking circles against your skin, drawing you closer as he leans in again, kissing you harder, deeper.
“now”, he whispers against your lips, his voice thick, “let me really look at my gift”
his gaze drops, taking in the sight of you bare from the waist up. your breasts rise and fall with each quick breath, your nipples already hardening under the cool air and the heat of his stare.
hyunjin’s eyes darken, a low hum vibrating in his throat as he leans in closer. his lips find your neck again, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin, his teeth grazing lightly at first, then nipping harder, leaving faint red marks that make you gasp.
“fuck, you’re gonna be such a good girl for me, i just know it”, he says against your pulse point, his tongue flicking out to soothe the bite before he sucks harder, drawing a whimper from your lips.
his hands slide up your sides, his hands cupping your breasts now, his thumbs brushing over your nipples in firm circles that send jolts straight to your core. you arch into his touch, your body begging for more as he pinches one nipple between his fingers. he pulls back just enough to watch your face, his breath hot on your collarbone.
“you are perfect”, he says, his voice husky, before he lowers his mouth.
he takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard while his tongue swirls around the tip. your hands fly to his hair, your fingers tangling in it as you tug lightly, the pull making him groan against your skin. he switches to the other breast, sucking, biting until your knees weaken and your cunt throbs with need.
“hyunjin”, you say, the sound half plea, half moan, as he bites down just hard enough to sting, then soothes it with a flat lick of his tongue.
he looks up at you through his lashes, his eyes gleaming with mischief and hunger, his lips shiny from your skin.
“you like that? my teeth on you?”, he asks you, pinching both nipples now, twisting gently to draw out another sharp gasp.
“yes, oh god, yes”, you say, your hips moving restlessly.
the lace of your panties clings damply to your folds, the friction teasing but not enough. his hands trail down your ribs, over your hips, hooking into the waistband of your panties but not pulling yet. instead, he sinks to his knees in front of you, the movement graceful and predatory, his face level with your stomach now.
hyunjin’s hands grip your thighs, spreading them slightly as he presses kisses along your abdomen, his lips soft at first, then firmer, his tongue dipping into your navel before trailing lower.
“so pretty, like this for me, because i’m the only one that gets to take this off of you”, he says, nuzzling the skin just above your panties, his breath ghosting over the lace and making you shiver.
he kisses down one thigh, his teeth scraping the inner skin, then the other, alternating sides until your legs tremble and you’re gripping the dresser for support. looking up at you, his eyes lock onto yours, intense and unwavering.
“keep your eyes on me”, he says, more like orders you, his fingers tracing the edge of the lace where it meets your hip.
he leans in, his lips brushing the fabric right over your clit, kissing the damp material as if it’s your skin itself. the pressure makes your clit pulse, and you moan, the sound echoing in the room. he smiles against you, then parts his lips, sucking the lace into his mouth, his tongue pressing through to lap at your folds indirectly.
“f-fuck- hyunjin”, you gasp, your hand moving to his shoulder, your nails digging in.
he bites the fabric, tugging it with his teeth before releasing, the wet spot growing under his assault. his hands slide up your thighs, his thumbs hooking under the edges now, but he doesn’t remove them yet.
instead, he sucks harder on the lace, the outline of your cunt visible through the sheer material, his tongue flicking insistently until you’re rocking against his face, your moans spilling freely. your eyes stay on his as he watches you unravel.
“you’re soaking through this”, he says, his voice muffled but smug, before biting the lace again.
the friction makes you cry out, your hips bucking forward as pleasure coils tight in your stomach. he groans in response, the sound vibrating through the fabric to your core, his hands finally yanking the panties down your legs in one swift motion. you step out of them, kicking them aside, now fully exposed to him.
hyunjin doesn’t waste a second. still on his knees, he grips your ass, pulling you closer as his mouth dives in. his tongue flattens against your cunt, licking a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, tasting your arousal with a hungry hum.
“fuck, you have no idea… how hard it was for me last time”, he says, his eyes never leaving yours as he circles your clit with his tongue, then sucks it between his lips, “how much i wanted to have you like this but i couldn’t because i could only use my fucking fingers”
your thighs shake, the dresser creaking under your weight as you lean back, but you force yourself to hold his gaze, the intimacy making every sensation sharper. he eats you out like he’s starved, his tongue thrusting into your hole before returning to lap at your clit, his lips sealing around it.
one of his hands stays on your ass, his fingers digging in to hold you steady, while the other slides up your thigh, teasing your entrance with two fingers but not entering yet, just circling, gathering your wetness.
“moan for me, y/n”, he says between licks, his voice rough, “let me hear how good this feels”
you do, the sounds pouring out as he devours you, his tongue flicking fast now, then slow and deep, his teeth grazing your clit just enough to make you jolt. pleasure builds relentlessly, your cunt clenching around nothing, so close to the edge that your vision blurs.
“h-hyunjin… i-i’m gonna come”, you whine, your hips grinding against his mouth, chasing the release.
but then he stops, pulling his tongue away, his lips leaving your throbbing clit with a teasing kiss. he stays on his knees, breathing heavily, his eyes locked on yours with a wicked glint as your body hovers on the brink, denied and aching.
hyunjin stands up slowly, his hands trailing up your thighs. he moves closer, his chest brushing your breasts, your nipples grazing his skin. he cups your face and crashes his mouth against yours. the kiss is filthy, urgent, his tongue sweeping in, sharing the taste of your arousal mixed with his saliva. you moan into him, tasting yourself on his lips, making your cunt clench emptily.
“feel that?”, he says against your mouth, nipping your lower lip, “that’s you, all over me. so fucking wet for me”
his words vibrate through you, and you nod, helpless, your hands clutching his shoulders, your nails scraping down his back. the kiss deepens, your tongues tangling as he devours you, one hand sliding into your hair to tug lightly, angling your head for better access.
he breaks away just enough to hoist you up, his arms lifting you effortlessly onto the dresser. it is cool against your ass, a stark contrast to the fire building inside. your legs part instinctively, wrapping around his waist, pulling him between your thighs. hyunjin groans at the contact, his cock straining against his boxers, rubbing against your slick folds through the fabric.
“god, you’re desperate”, he says, his eyes half-lidded as he watches you squirm, “need me inside you already?”
“please”, you moan, your fingers threading through his hair now, tugging him back for another kiss.
he nods, but his hand drifts lower, sliding between your legs. two fingers part your folds, teasing your entrance before pushing in slowly, curling inside you. you gasp into his mouth, the stretch amazing after his tongue, your hips rocking to meet his thrusts. he moves his fingers steadily, his thumb circling your clit in lazy loops, building the pressure again.
“fuck… you’re so tight”, he says, his other hand kneading your breast, pinching your nipple, “you’re gonna feel so good around my cock. you want that? want me to fuck you right here?”
his fingers move, hitting that spot inside making you cry out, your legs tightening around him, your heels digging into his lower back.
“yes, f-fuck… hyunjin, fuck me”, you beg him, your voice breaking on a moan as he adds a third finger, stretching you further, his thumb pressing harder on your clit.
the dresser rattles faintly with your movements, bottles falling, but you don’t care. he kisses down your jaw, sucking a mark into your neck while his fingers move faster, slick sounds filling the room alongside your breaths and moans. your hand slips from his hair to his neck, holding him close as pleasure coils tighter, but he senses you’re climbing too fast.
“not yet”, he says, withdrawing his fingers, leaving you whining in protest. he smirks, bringing them to his mouth, sucking them clean while holding your gaze, “you taste as sweet as the last time, but i need to be inside you now”
he shoves his boxers down, freeing his cock. it springs out, thick and veined, the tip already leaking precum. you lick your lips at the sight, but he’s impatient, gripping your hip to line himself up. the head nudges your entrance, slicking through your wetness before he thrusts in, inch by inch, filling you completely.
“fuck… you’re so big”, you moan, your head falling back.
your walls flutter around him, adjusting to the size, and he pauses, buried deep, his forehead pressed to yours.
“you okay?”, he asks, his voice strained, his hand stroking your thigh.
“yeah, m-move”, you say, your legs locking tighter around his waist, pulling him even closer.
he starts thrusting, his hips snapping against yours with building force. the dresser thuds against the wall, your breasts bouncing with each impact, and hyunjin’s mouth finds one nipple, sucking hard as he fucks you.
“like that, huh? my cock hitting deep?”, he says, releasing your nipple, his hand replacing his mouth to squeeze and roll the peak.
you nod frantically, one hand in his hair, the other clawing at his neck, feeling his pulse race under your fingers.
“moan louder, come on, let me hear you”, he says, angling his hips to grind against your clit with every thrust.
“hyunjin, oh god… so good”, you cry, the friction overwhelming, pleasure spiking as he rubs your clit with his thumb again, matching the rhythm of his cock.
your cunt squeezes him, drawing a guttural groan from his throat. he kisses you messily, all teeth and tongue, swallowing your moans as he pounds harder, the slap of skin on skin echoing. your legs tremble around him, but you don’t let go. his free hand grips your ass, lifting you for better leverage, and the new angle makes him hit that spot relentlessly.
“you’re clenching so tight… you’re gonna make me come”, he says, his breath ragged against your lips, his thrusts erratic now.
“together, p-please, come with me”, you say, your nails raking his scalp, pulling his hair just hard enough to make him hiss.
he nods, capturing your mouth in a kiss, your tongues together as the coil snaps. your orgasm crashes over you, waves of heat pulsing through your core, as you moan into him.
hyunjin follows seconds later, burying himself deep with a choked groan, spilling hot inside you, his body shuddering against yours. you both pant, your foreheads touching, his cock twitching as he rides out the last pulses. slowly, he softens, but doesn’t pull out yet, holding you close, his hands gentle now on your breasts, his thumbs soothing your nipples.
“fuck, that was intense”, he murmurs, kissing your swollen lips softly, a lazy smile curving his mouth. you hum in agreement, your legs loosening but still draped around him.
he eases back just enough to look at you. his hands slip from your chest to your waist, steadying you as he takes one step away. when he slips out, a wet sound follows his movement, his cum dripping down your thigh. you shiver and he notices immediately.
“come here”, he says.
he bends, his arms sliding under your thighs and back, lifting you off the dresser. you curl into him on instinct, your hands resting against his shoulders as he carries you across the room. he lays you down on the bed with a tenderness that contrasts beautifully with how desperately he’d touched you seconds before.
a sheet slips over you when he pulls it up, warm against your skin, just like the last time. his eyes scan your face, checking every flicker, every breath.
“you okay?”, he asks softly, brushing a damp strand of hair away from your cheek.
you give him a small, satisfied smile, “i’m good. really, really good”
“you sure you’re ready for the rest? because well… they’re all waiting out there like it’s their turn at heaven, which now that i’ve had it… it really is”
you laugh quietly, your fingers grazing the back of his hand, “i’m good, i’m ready”
he dips down then, capturing your mouth in a kiss. you can tell that he wants more, that he’s still hungry for you, but he knows he has to let you go. his thumb strokes your jaw as his lips move with yours, deepening just a bit before he finally pulls back.
“i’ll send the next one in”, he whispers, letting his forehead rest against yours for a second longer, “and… good luck”
you roll your eyes playfully, “i think i’ll be okay”
his quiet laugh is warm and breathless. he gives your lips a quick peck, stands up, giving you one last long look before he puts his boxers on again. he goes to the door and opens it just enough to slip out and close it behind him.
silence settles.
you lie there, the sheet draped loosely over your bare body, the warmth of hyunjin still clinging to your skin. your pulse steadies, then builds again with anticipation. you stare up at the ceiling for a moment, catching your breath, letting it all sink in.
your mind drifts back to the last time you played this game, how different it felt then. the nerves. the newness. the way each of them had hesitated before you all started this.
this time, there’s no hesitation, only hunger and the echo of that night where one by one they’d left you shaking, breathless, blissed-out in ways you hadn’t expected. you adjust the sheet slightly, your legs brushing together, your heartbeat picking up again.
you’re ready.
and that’s when the door opens again.
minho steps inside like he owns the room. no hesitation, no pause, just a quiet push of the door and the soft click behind him. he’s in nothing but his boxers, his hair slightly mussed, his chest rising and falling with a controlled breath that gives him away - he’s excited too, even if he pretends otherwise.
his eyes drop to the sheet draped over you and stay there for a moment too long. then, he scoffs under his breath, smirking.
“well”, he says, walking straight towards the bed, “you look a lot better than you did last time i got you”
you raise an eyebrow, “excuse me?”
he stops at the edge of the mattress, leaning down slightly, his smirk deepening.
“don’t act innocent. last time i came in, you were a wreck already. i think you’d lost count by then”
heat blooms in your cheeks - and lower - but your smile is quick and sly.
“that’s because you were, i don’t know… much later then. this time you’re second. don’t get cocky”
“me? cocky? sweetheart, i’m just stating facts”, his laugh is soft, amused, entirely unforgivable.
you sit up a little, letting the sheet fall strategically, and his eyes follow the movement immediately, his stare hungry, sharp. you tilt your head.
“facts like what?”
he steps closer, one knee sinking into the mattress as he climbs onto the bed without asking, without waiting, like he has every right to be there.
“like…”, he says, bracing one hand beside your hip, leaning in, “you’re less ruined right now, which means i get you fresh this time”, his lips brush your jaw, not quite a kiss, “and that means i can do even better”
you scoff, but your breath catches.
“oh, please. you think you’re that powerful?”
“i know i am”, he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes.
you roll your eyes, but your pulse betrays you.
“sure, keep telling yourself that”
“i don’t have to tell myself anything. you’re the one who practically melted last time”
he smirks, leaning closer until your noses almost touch. your breath hitches - not that you’d ever admit it - and your fingers slide up his forearm, slow and challenging.
“big words, minho”
his eyes flick to your mouth.
“prove them wrong”, he whispers.
you don’t give him the satisfaction of answering. instead, you pull him in by the nape of his neck, and the second your lips touch, the playful bickering melts into something hotter, heavier.
his mouth moves against yours like it’s the only thing he knows how to do. you kiss him back with the same heat, your hand tightening in his hair as he presses his body over yours, the sheet slipping lower, forgotten between you.
the kiss is hungry but controlled, you can feel the restraint vibrating through him, the tension of someone who knows exactly how to unravel you and is savoring the slow approach.
“yeah”, he says against your lips, his forehead brushing yours, “definitely fresh”
you laugh breathlessly into the next kiss, letting him settle over you, letting the heat rise again.
and the game continues, your tongues sliding together, minho’s lips firm and insistent. his body weight pins you lightly to the mattress, his chest brushing your breasts. you arch up instinctively, seeking more friction, and he hums low in his throat, the sound vibrating through your mouth as his hand cups the side of your face, his thumb tracing your jawline.
your hand roams down his back, your fingers splaying over the muscles there, feeling them flex under your touch. your nails scraping lightly along his spine as you dip lower, hooking into the waistband of his boxers. you tug them down with deliberate slowness, savoring the way his breath hitches against your lips. minho doesn’t break the kiss, just deepens it, his tongue sweeping in to claim more as you push the fabric past his ass, exposing the firm curve of it to the cool air of the room.
“y/n”, he says into your mouth, shifting his weight to help you shove the boxers lower, kicking them off with a muffled curse when they catch on his ankle.
now he’s bare against you, his hard cock pressing hot and heavy along your thigh, twitching with need. you wrap your leg around him, pulling him closer, and he groans softly, his hips rocking forward to slide against your slick folds. you break the kiss just enough to speak, your lips brushing his with every word, your voice low and teasing.
“last time... you were in control”, you say, nipping at his bottom lip as his mouth chases yours, refusing to let the contact fully break, “with my vibrator... making me come so hard i couldn’t think”
your hand slides up to tangle in his hair, tugging lightly to keep his face close. he kisses you harder in response, his tongue flicking against yours, but you continue, words tumbling out between the wet sounds of your mouths meeting, “but now… there’s no toy. just you and me, and i’m the one in charge tonight”
minho chuckles darkly against your lips, the sound low and vibrating, but he doesn’t argue. instead, he captures your mouth again, sucking on your tongue until you whimper, your body melting under him.
with a surge of strength, you plant your feet against the mattress and roll, flipping your positions. he lands on his back with a surprised grunt, his eyes widening for a split second before darkening with amusement and heat. you straddle him swiftly, your knees bracketing his hips, your wet cunt settling against his cock, coating him in your arousal.
“oh, is that right?”, he says, his hands immediately finding your thighs, his fingers digging in just enough to leave faint marks.
you lean down, crashing your lips to his again, silencing any words. the kiss turns frantic now, your breasts pressing against his chest as you grind down, sliding your clit along his cock. he bucks up to meet you, a low moan escaping into your mouth, his grip tightening on your skin.
you keep the pace, rocking your hips in slow circles, feeling him throb beneath you, the head of his cock nudging your entrance with every pass. your hands brace on his shoulders, your nails biting into the muscle there as you kiss him deeper, swallowing his gasps.
“fuck, you feel good like this”, you say against his lips, breaking just to nip at his jaw, then returning to devour his mouth.
his tongue tangles with yours, hot and demanding, but you control the angle, the pressure, making him chase your lips when you pull back teasingly. the room fills with the smack of lips, the slick glide of your bodies.
minho’s hands roam up your sides, his thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts, but you capture his wrists, pinning them lightly above his head for a moment, showing your dominance. he lets you, smirking into the kiss, but his cock jumps against you, betraying his eagerness.
“i’m gonna ride you”, you whisper hotly, releasing his hands to trail yours down his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart, “make you beg for it”
he doesn't beg - that’s not minho - but his eyes lock on yours, intense and challenging, as you shift up slightly. one hand wraps around his base, stroking him firmly, your thumb swiping over the leaking tip to spread the precum. minho hisses, his hips jerking up, but you hold him steady, aligning him with your entrance. slowly, torturously, you sink down, the thick head stretching your walls with a delicious burn.
“oh f-fuck”, you moan into his mouth, kissing him messily as you take more of him, inch by inch, until he's fully seated inside you, your ass flush against his thighs.
the fullness is overwhelming, his cock pulsing deep within your heat, and you pause there, clenching around him. minho groans, his head falling back against the pillow, but his hands find your hips immediately, his fingers splaying wide over your curves.
“fuck... you’re so tight”, he says, his voice rough, pulling you down for another kiss as you start to move.
you roll your hips first, grinding in circles to feel him hit every sensitive spot inside, then lift up, slamming back down with a wet slap that echoes in the room. you set a steady rhythm, rising and falling, your breasts moving with each thrust, your nipples grazing his chest.
minho’s grip on your hips tightens, guiding you subtly at first, but you swat his hands away playfully, leaning forward to lie on his chest.
“my pace”, you say, kissing him hard.
he meets your thrusts from below, bucking up to drive deeper, a growl rumbling in his chest as your cunt flutters around him.
“fuck- yes, just like that”, he says against your lips, one hand sneaking up to cup your breast, his thumb rolling your nipple until it hardens under his touch.
you moan, the pleasure spiking, but you don't slow, riding him harder, the bed creaking beneath you. your clit grinds against his pubic bone, building that coil of heat low in your stomach. his other hand moves to your ass, spreading you slightly to feel himself slide in and out, the obscene sounds of your joining filling the air.
you lose yourself in the sensation, kissing him nonstop, your lips swollen and slick, your breaths coming in pants between the press of mouths.
“minho... you’re so deep”, you whimper, your nails raking down his chest, leaving red trails that make him hiss and thrust up harder. he captures your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently before soothing it with his tongue, his hands moving to your hips, urging you faster despite what you had told him.
but then, as you sit up and your pace quickens, chasing that edge, minho’s fingers dig in like iron, stopping your movements mid-thrust. you gasp, trying to rock down, but he holds you firm, his cock buried deep but unmoving, throbbing inside you. his eyes meet yours, dark and hungry, a smirk curling his lips.
“you really thought you were in control?”, he says, his voice low and dangerous, laced with that dominant edge you’re getting to know so well, “oh, y/n, you were so wrong”
his eyes lock onto yours, that smirk deepening as he holds you still. the stretch of him fills you completely, every pulse of his length sending sparks through your core, but his grip on your hips is unyielding, his fingers bruising in the best way. you whimper, trying to roll your hips down for friction, but he doesn’t budge, his body a solid anchor beneath you.
“thought you were in control this whole time?”, minho says, his voice a low rumble. his thumbs stroke lazy circles over your hipbones, contrasting the iron hold of his palms, “i’ve been in charge since i came in. i was just letting you have your little moment... pretending”
the words hit you like a spark, heat flooding your veins, your cunt responding instantly by fluttering around him, growing impossibly wetter. arousal slicks your inner thighs, dripping down to coat his base where you’re joined, the wetness making a soft, wet sound as you clench involuntarily.
“fuck”, you gasp, the sensation of your own slickness sliding along his cock making your head spin, desire coiling tighter in your stomach.
you try to move again, lifting your hips, desperate for that glide, that pressure against your walls, but minho’s hands clamp down harder, pinning you flush against him. his cock throbs deep inside, teasing you with its stillness, the head nudging your cervix making your toes curl.
“minho... please”, you whine, rocking forward as much as his hold allows, your clit brushing his pubic bone in a fleeting touch that only heightens the ache.
he chuckles, the sound dark and satisfied, his gaze never leaving your face as he watches every flicker of need cross your features. slowly, deliberately, one hand releases your hip, trailing up your inner thigh with feather-light touches that make your skin prickle.
his fingers ghost over the sensitive crease where thigh meets groin, so close to where you need him most, but not quite there. you squirm, trying to chase his hand, but his other hand holds you steady, forcing you to feel every inch of him unmoving inside you.
“so eager”, he says, his hand hovering just above your clit, the warmth of his palm radiating against your swollen folds.
you can feel the heat of him, and it makes you drip even more, your arousal trickling down to soak his balls. your walls spasm around his thickness, begging for motion, and he finally lets his fingers brush the outer lips of your cunt, spreading your wetness without mercy.
“look at you... leaking all over me”, minho says, his voice husky, his eyes darkening as he circles your entrance where he’s already buried, feeling the slick mess you’ve made.
then, agonisingly slow, his thumb finds your clit, pressing just the pad against the throbbing nub. he doesn't rub, just holds the pressure there, light and teasing, letting you feel the pulse of your own heartbeat in the sensitive bundle of nerves. a moan tears from your throat, raw and needy, your body arching into his touch despite his restraint.
“oh god, minho… m-move, please, i need...”, you trail off into another whimper as he starts to circle your clit, his thumb slick with your arousal.
the sensation of his cock stretching you full and unmoving and his thumb tormenting your clit has you trembling, your hips jerking in futile attempts to grind down. he keeps you locked in place, his hand around your waist like a vice, while his thumb works you over with expert slowness.
each pass over your clit sends jolts of pleasure racing up your spine, making your nipples tighten and your breath come in short, desperate pants. you try to rock against him again, chasing that building wave, but he stops every movement, his hips lifting just enough to keep you speared on him without giving you the thrust you crave.
“not yet, you will come when i say”, he whispers, leaning up to nip at your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin, “feel how wet you are for me? all because i let you think you had the power”
your cunt clenches hard at his words, more slickness flooding out, easing the way even though he’s not moving. the teasing circles on your clit speed up, his thumb pressing firmer now, flicking lightly over the peak before soothing it with broad strokes.
moans spill from your lips uncontrollably, your hands clutching at his shoulders, your nails digging into his muscles as the pleasure coils tighter, so close but held just out of reach.
“minho... i’m- fuck, it’s too much, let me move”, you beg him, your voice breaking, but he only smirks, his hand on your hip holding you down as his fingers pinch your clit, rolling it between them.
the sensation rips a cry from you, your body shuddering, your walls rippling around his cock in desperate pulses. you’re dripping steadily now, the wetness pooling at his base, making every tiny shift slick and filthy. he watches you fall apart under his control, his eyes hooded with lust, his own arousal evident in the way his cock twitches inside you, straining for release but held back by sheer will.
finally, after what feels like an eternity of teasing - your clit swollen and hypersensitive, every nerve alight - minho shifts beneath you. he plants his feet flat on the mattress, knees bending for leverage, both of his hands gripping your hips.
“alright”, he says, his voice rough with restraint, “now you get what you need, but remember, i’m in charge”
with a powerful thrust upward, he drives into you, the force slamming his cock deep, hitting that spot inside making you cry out, the sudden motion shattering the tease, pleasure exploding through you as he sets a brutal pace. his hips snap up relentlessly, each thrust bottoming out, his pubic bone grinding against your clit. you brace your hands on his chest, riding the waves as he fucks up into you.
“yes, fuck, just like that”, you moan, finally able to move with him, your hips meeting his thrusts in a frantic rhythm.
his cock drags along your walls, the head pounding your spot over and over until you're seeing white. minho’s hands guide you now, pulling you down hard onto him, his thumbs digging into your flesh as he controls your bodies.
he sits up, capturing one of your breasts in his mouth, his tongue licking your nipple before sucking hard, his teeth grazing the peak. the added sensation has you screaming, your cunt fluttering wildly around him, so close to the edge.
“come on, let go”, he moans against your skin, releasing your nipple before claiming your mouth in a messy kiss, your tongues tangling as he thrusts deeper. his hand slips between you again, his fingers finding your clit once more, rubbing firm circles.
his cock filling you, stretching you, and his fingers working your clit push you over. pleasure crashes through you, your orgasm ripping another scream from your throat as your walls convulse around him. slickness gushes out, soaking him further, your body shaking uncontrollably. minho breaks down with you, groaning into your mouth as he spills hot inside you, his cock pulsing with each rope of cum, filling you to the brim.
you collapse forward, falling against his chest in a boneless heap, your breaths ragged and synced. his arm wraps around you, his hand on your back, his other hand still between your legs, fingers lazily stroking your oversensitive clit through the aftershocks, drawing out soft whimpers from your lips. he presses a kiss to your temple, both of you trembling in the aftermath, connected and spent.
minho breathes against your hair and for a moment, it’s quiet, until he laughs softly. a low, smug, absolutely infuriating sound.
“so you really thought you were in control”, he says, his lips brushing your temple like he’s kissing the words into you.
you try to reply but your mouth opens and nothing comes out except a faint, breathless sound. you’re still trembling, your face buried in his shoulder, and his laugh deepens.
“mmhm, yeah”, he says, brushing a thumb over your cheek as he tilts your face up, “that’s what i thought”
you press your lips to his just to shut him up, or at least that’s the lie you tell yourself. the kiss is slow, needy in a way you can’t hide, and when he kisses you back, he does it like he knows exactly why you’re doing it.
“can’t talk?”, he whispers against your mouth, “but you were so loud a minute ago, you were screaming for me”
you glare at him, but it’s useless. your body feels like melted sugar, and he knows it.
“shut up”, you mumble, kissing him again, your hand weakly curling in the back of his neck.
“you really weren’t ready for me. admit it”, he grins against your mouth.
“never”
“liar”
you scoff, but you can’t even push him away properly, your arms are too heavy, your legs still unsteady. he notices, because he tilts his head and smirks like he’s studying his own masterpiece.
“look at you”, he says, brushing your hair back, “last time you were a wreck by the time i got to you. and now? second place and already ruined”
“i’m not ruined”, you say.
“sure”, he says, kissing the corner of your mouth once, slow and taunting, “keep pretending”
he shifts carefully, easing out of you and laying you back against the pillows. you sink into them instantly - your body grateful, your pride less so.
minho stands up, stretching lazily, and grabs his boxers from the floor. he glances back at you as he pulls them on, his eyes sweeping over your still-warm, still-flushed form under the sheet.
“you should see yourself right now”, he says, running a hand through his hair with a satisfied sigh, “completely done. and i know i could go harder”
you throw a pillow at him - or at least, you try. it barely leaves your hand.
he laughs, “adorable”
“i hate you”, you lie.
“no, you don’t”
he walks to the door, his hand on the knob, then turns back with one last wicked smile.
“rest up, you’re gonna need it”
you roll your eyes weakly, “fuck off”
“can’t”, he says cheerfully, opening the door, “someone else is waiting their turn”
and with a final smirk, he slips out, leaving you breathless, exhausted, and already warming at the thought of who will come through that door next. you just sit there in the warm, hazy stillness he left behind. your body feels heavy, overstimulated, sweetly undone.
your thighs shift slightly, and the sensation is… unmistakably messy - the lingering, heated mix of your own arousal and the traces both hyunjin and minho left behind on your skin. it’s warm, slick, a physical reminder of how thoroughly the game has already claimed you.
you reach to your nightstand and pull out a small stack of tissues. you take your time, wiping away the evidence of the two rounds, cleaning your inner thighs, your hips, anywhere their touch still lingers.
every brush of the tissue sends a faint aftershock through you and you can’t help but think about the rest of the boys and what they’re gonna do to you, and it turns you on even more, feeling yourself getting wet again.
once you’re clean, or at least as clean as you can, you toss the tissues into the small bin beside the bed and let yourself breathe again, sinking back into the pillows. the sheet rests lightly over your hips, your upper body bare, warm from the afterglow.
you exhale through your nose and then, a soft click, the door opening.
jeongin steps inside, and the moment he sees you there - your hair mussed, your breasts rising and falling - he freezes. his eyes go wide before he can stop himself. like hyunjin and minho, he’s wearing only his boxers, his chest flushed, his throat tight with a swallow he doesn’t hide fast enough.
“...oh”, he breathes, standing there like he’s forgotten how to move.
so shy, so sweet, just like when he entered your room the first time that day. and then the silk happened, and he had control of your body and you.
you offer the smallest smile, tilting your head.
“hi, innie”
he shuts the door behind him slowly, his gaze still locked on you, his voice barely a whisper.
“you look… you look incredible”
he steps closer, hesitant, but unable to resist you, the sight pulling him in like gravity.
“come here,” you say softly, lifting the sheet with a small gesture.
the invitation is all he needs. he climbs onto the mattress carefully, like he’s worried he’ll disturb you, settling beside you with knees sinking into the bed. he’s so warm, warmer than you expected, and when he sits next to you, his thigh almost brushes yours.
almost.
you close the distance deliberately and he inhales sharply. his eyes flicker down your body, then dart back up to your face, his cheeks tinting pink.
“you’re… wow”, he whispers, “i mean i-i already knew you looked good but um…”
he can’t finish the sentence. you don’t make him. you lean closer, your voice dropping into something lower, something that makes his breath stutter.
“jeongin”, you say, your fingers grazing his jaw, your thumb brushing the corner of his mouth, “come lie down with me”
he obeys instantly.
he lowers himself beside you, half on his side, half on his elbow, watching you like he’s trying not to stare too obviously but failing spectacularly. when you shift to face him, the sheet slips a bit lower on your waist, and his breath catches again.
“you okay?”, you smirk softly.
he lets out a tiny, embarrassed laugh.
“yeah, but umm… we could hear you”, he says, his voice small but honest, “in the living room. all of us”
“me?”, you blink.
he nods, his eyes flicking away for a moment.
“you. hyunjin. minho. the whole thing. and we-”, he stops, bites the inside of his cheek, then tries again, “it was hard, really hard, you know… not to do anything”
your smile sharpens, slow and dangerous, because you know exactly what he means.
“oh?”, you ask, moving closer, your lips hovering near the shell of his ear, “so you were all out there… listening?”
“yes”, his breath trembles.
“and you wanted to touch yourselves?”, you ask him.
“... yes”, his cheeks flush deeper.
you hum, pleased, moving your head to tilt his chin up with a finger, “but you didn’t”
“no”, his voice breaks slightly, “we waited”
good.
you move closer, closing the remaining space between your bodies. you’re not touching him fully, not yet, just close enough that he feels your warmth, your dominance settling over him like a slow, sweet pressure.
“well”, you say, letting your lips graze the corner of his mouth without kissing him yet, “you don’t have to wait anymore, innie”
jeongin’s eyes darken, wide and wanting.
“you’re finally here, with me”, you continue, your hand sliding up his chest, just enough pressure to make him swallow, “and you can do whatever you want…”
his breath shudders, his fingers clutching the sheets. you lean closer, your nose brushing his, your voice a whisper.
“like a good boy”
the sound he makes is soft, needy, involuntary.
you smile, then you finally kiss him.
it starts slow but the moment he feels your lips move against his, he melts into the kiss completely. his hand lifts, trembling slightly, settling on your waist as he kisses you deeper, warmer, his breath mixing with yours.
you shift closer, pressing your body to his, guiding him without force, without rush, just enough control for him to feel it. just enough for him to know he’s yours for this round. and he kisses you like he’s been waiting the entire time for his turn.
the kiss deepens, your lips parting as jeongin’s tongue tentatively brushes yours, seeking permission. you grant it, tilting your head to angle better, your hand cupping the back of his neck to pull him closer. his mouth moves with a growing hunger, no longer hesitant but eager. his fingers tighten on your waist, bunching the sheet between you, the thin barrier doing nothing to hide the heat building where your bodies press.
you break the kiss first, just enough to trail your lips along his jaw, feeling the rapid flutter of his pulse under your mouth.
“good boy”, you murmur against his skin, the words vibrating low and approving, “kissing me so well already. you’re doing such a good job, innie”
a shiver runs through him, his breath hitching as he nuzzles into your neck, his lips grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. he presses a soft kiss there, tentative at first, then bolder, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin.
“yeah?”, he whispers, his voice rough with need, his hand sliding up your side, his fingers splaying over your ribs.
“mmhm”, you hum, arching slightly into his touch, encouraging him.
it draws a quiet groan from him, his mouth opening wider against your neck, sucking gently at the curve where shoulder meets throat. the wet heat of his lips sends sparks down your spine, your nipples hardening as arousal stirs low in your stomach.
jeongin kisses lower, his teeth grazing lightly, not biting but nipping just enough to make you gasp. you can feel the hard line of his cock pressing into your thigh through his boxers, throbbing with restraint, but he doesn’t push for more. instead, he focuses on your neck, his lips trailing fire along your collarbone, his tongue soothing each mark he leaves.
“you’re making me feel so good”, you say, threading your fingers through his hair, guiding him gently, “keep going just like that, like my good boy”
he whimpers softly into your skin, the sound muffled as he kisses back up to the hollow of your throat, his breath coming in short, heated puffs. your body responds, warmth pooling between your legs, the earlier echoes of pleasure from the others making you slick and ready all over again.
you pull back slightly, catching his gaze. his eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire, cheeks flushed a deep pink.
“jeongin”, you say, your voice husky, your thumb tracing his lower lip, “you were so good for me, waiting like that... you didn’t touch yourself even though you wanted to. so now... you can do whatever you want with me, that’s your prize”
his eyes widen, a flicker of surprise mixing with lust, but it shifts quickly to something bolder, hungrier.
“anything i want?”, he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, his hand stilling on your hip.
“anything”, you say, leaning in to nip at his earlobe, “i’m yours for this, so show me how much you want it”
jeongin doesn’t hesitate then. with a soft, determined exhale, he shifts his weight, his hands guiding you smoothly. you’re both on your sides, but he moves you, turning you until your back presses against his chest. the sheet tangles briefly around your legs, but he tugs it down, exposing your skin to the cool air of the room.
his body molds to yours from behind, solid and warm, his arm draping over your waist as he settles in close. one hand slides up immediately, cupping your breast. he squeezes gently at first, his thumb brushing over your nipple, feeling it harden under his touch.
“fuck”, he breathes against your neck, his lips returning there, kissing the spot he marked earlier.
his mouth sucks a fresh bruise into your skin while he rolls your nipple between his fingers, pinching just hard enough to draw a moan from your throat. you arch back into him, pressing your ass against the rigid heat of his cock, feeling it twitch through the thin fabric.
“yes, like that”, you say, your voice breathy.
his grip tightens on your breast, his fingers tugging your nipple before soothing it with his thumb. the sensation shoots straight to your core, slickness gathering as he moves to your other breast now, switching sides with the same deliberate care.
his kisses on your neck grow messier, his tongue on your sensitive skin, his teeth scraping lightly as he murmurs, “you feel so good... so soft”
his hand doesn't stay there long. it trails down your stomach, his fingers dancing over your skin, before moving lower. you feel the heat of his palm hovering over your clit, and you shift instinctively, but he takes control, hooking your leg with his.
“lift”, he whispers, his voice gaining an edge of command, just like the last time, and you obey, draping your thigh back over his hip, opening yourself wide.
now exposed, his fingers find your clit easily, swollen and aching from the buildup. he circles it slowly at first, just the pads of two fingers tracing the slick folds, gathering your wetness before pressing directly on it. the touch makes your hips buck, a gasp escaping as he rubs in firm, steady strokes.
“k-keep going, jeongin, p-please”
his fingers press firmer against your clit, making your thighs tremble, slickness coating his fingers. the pleasure builds sharp and insistent, your cunt clenching around nothing, aching for more than just his touch. you moan softly, pushing back against him, feeling the thick ridge of his cock strain against his boxers, hot and insistent against your ass.
“you’re so wet for me, y/n... does that feel good?”
“it feels so good, innie”, you breathe, your voice husky with need, your hand reaching back to grip his thigh, “you’re making me so wet. but i need more, i need you inside me”
jeongin groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your neck where his lips still linger, sucking another fresh mark into your skin.
“yeah?”, he says, his free hand sliding down to shove his boxers out of the way to free his cock, hard and leaking, the head brushing your thigh as he positions himself, nudging against your entrance from behind, “you want my cock, huh? want me to fuck you like this?”
“yes”, you moan, arching your back to give him better access, your leg still hooked over his hip.
he doesn't make you wait long. with a steady push, he sinks inside you, the thick length stretching you open inch by inch. your walls grip him tight, slick and welcoming after his teasing, pulling him deeper until his hips flush against your ass. he bottoms out with a shuddering breath, his cock throbbing inside you, filling every space.
“fuck, you’re so tight”, he says, his voice breaking as he adjusts to your walls clenching around him, “i-it feels amazing... like you were made for me”
you whimper at the fullness, your body also adjusting to him buried deep, every pulse sending sparks through your core.
“move”, you urge him, rolling your hips slightly to urge him on, “just… fuck me, jeongin”
he obeys with a low moan, his hand leaving your clit for a moment to grip your hip, holding you steady as he pulls back almost all the way out before slamming back in. the thrust jolts you forward, pleasure ripping through you as his cock drags along your inner walls, hitting deep.
he sets a rhythm then, steady and building, his hips snapping against your ass with each drive, the wet slap of skin echoing in the room. his other hand moves to your breast, pinching your nipple between his fingers, rolling it roughly as he fucks you.
“god, yes”, he says against your neck, his lips trailing hot kisses along your shoulder, his teeth grazing the skin, “you feel perfect... squeezing me so good”
his thrusts pick up speed, deeper now, the head of his cock nudging your spot, making you tremble. you moan loudly, matching his rhythm, pushing back to meet each thrust, your ass grinding against his pelvis.
“more”, you tell him through a gasp, your hand covering his on your breast, pressing it harder against you, “fuck, you’re doing so well. such a good boy for me, innie”
the praise makes him thrust harder, a growl escaping as he latches onto your neck again, sucking hard while his fingers twist your nipple, sending jolts straight to your clit. jeongin’s breaths come ragged now, moans spilling from his lips with every snap of his hips.
“you like that? my cock deep inside you?”, he asks, his voice strained, his hand sliding up from your hip to cup your chin gently but firmly.
he turns your head towards him, angling you so your eyes meet his, dark and intense, filled with raw desire. he crashes his mouth against yours, the kiss messy and deep, your tongues tangling as he continues to thrust into you from behind.
the angle lets him go even deeper, his cock spearing you relentlessly while your lips lock, your moans muffled against each other’s mouths. you taste the salt of his skin, feel the vibration of his groans as he kisses you harder.
“come for me”, he whispers against your lips during a brief break for air, his thrusts faltering slightly with how close he is, “i want to feel you come on my cock... clench around me while i fuck you”
“you too”, you reply, breathless, nipping at his lower lip before he dives back in, the kiss turning frantic, “come inside me, jeongin”
your words push him over, his eyes locking onto yours, wide and pleading, as he drives in one last time, hard and unyielding. jeongin breaks first, his cock swelling inside you, thrusting erratically as he spills hot ropes of cum deep inside you. you follow immediately, your cunt spasming around his length, your walls fluttering wildly as orgasm crashes through you. you cry out into his mouth, your body shaking as waves of heat pulse from your core.
“fuck, y-yes”, he moans against your lips, his eyes never leaving yours, the intensity making it all the more raw.
he kisses you again, your lips brushing and your tongues sliding lazily now, moans turning to soft whimpers as the aftershocks ripple between you. his thrusts slow to shallow grinds, milking every last bit of pleasure, cum leaking out around where he’s still buried inside you.
“so good”, you murmur into the kiss, your bodies pressed tight as you ride out the high together.
jeongin’s arms remain wrapped around you for a moment longer, his forehead resting against yours as both of you come down together. then he shifts carefully, slipping out of you and guiding you with a gentleness that feels almost shy again.
“wait”, he says softly.
he helps you turn around, slow and careful, until you’re lying on your back and he’s hovering over you, braced on one arm. his other hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin like he’s grounding himself through the touch.
he kisses you again, not desperate now, not frantic. you smile against his mouth, your fingers curling lightly into his hair.
“you know”, you say between kisses, “you surprised me again”
he pauses, blinking, “i did?”
“mmhm”, you tilt your head, letting him kiss along your jaw, “both times. you start all shy and sweet… and then suddenly you’re completely different”
his cheeks tint pink immediately, “i-”
“you become dominant”, you finish for him, amused, “confident, like you know exactly what you’re doing”, your thumb traces the line of his jaw, “but you’re still such a good boy when i praise you”
he lets out a small, embarrassed laugh, ducking his head to hide his face in your neck.
“don’t say it like that, please”, he says, though his smile gives him away.
“it’s true”, you tease gently, “you melt every time”
he lifts his head just enough to look at you.
“you just… do that to me”, he admits quietly, “i don’t know what it is. you make me want to be good for you, and then-”, he shrugs, bashful, “you make me forget how”
you laugh softly, pulling him into another kiss, slower still, full of warmth instead of fire. after a moment, he shifts off you reluctantly, reaching for his boxers and pulling them back on. he glances at you again, concern flickering across his expression.
“you okay?”, he asks, “really okay to keep going?”
you stretch slightly, smiling up at him, “i promise i’m good”
he exhales in relief, smiling back, “okay, just… checking”
you prop yourself up on your elbows, your eyes glinting with mischief.
“you think the others heard us?”
his ears go red instantly.
“what- i-”, he laughs, covering his face with his hand, “probably. yeah. definitely”
“poor things”, you say teasing, “having to wait”
he groans, laughing again as he walks towards the door, “you’re evil”
“you love it”
he pauses at the door, looking back at you with a soft smile that lingers just a little too long.
“i can’t wait to see you later”, he says quietly.
then he slips out, closing the door behind him, leaving you stretched out on the bed, warm, smiling. you stretch out against the sheets, your chest still rising a little faster than usual. you stare up at the ceiling, letting everything sink in - how surreal it is, how indulgent, how wanted you feel, how good it feels.
your fingers slide up into your hair, combing through it slowly, grounding yourself. you’re smiling without even realising it.
then you hear the quiet click of the door opening and closing again. you turn your head to see felix, his boxers not hiding his bulge, his hair a little messy, his eyes bright the moment they land on you. he doesn’t hesitate, he just smiles, wide and unmistakably fond.
“hi”, he says softly.
“hi, felix”, you reply, warmth blooming in your chest.
he crosses the room in a few easy steps and climbs onto the bed beside you, settling comfortably at your side. you’re on your back, and he turns towards you, resting on his elbows, his face hovering close. before you can say anything else, he leans in and presses a quick, sweet peck to your lips. it’s light, playful, and you laugh immediately.
“you’re in a good mood”
“of course i am”, he grins.
you tilt your head, amused, “you guys definitely heard us, didn’t you?”
he lets out a quiet laugh, his nose scrunching a little.
“yeah”, he admits easily, “we did”
“poor you”, you tease him, “having to wait out there”
“mmhm, i don’t know”, he says, leaning in to kiss you again, another quick peck, then another, “i kinda liked it”
“you did?”
“yeah”, he says, his voice warm and honest, “i knew i’d get my turn soon, so hearing you?”, he shrugs lightly, smiling, “it just turned me on even more”
you laugh again, your hand drifting to his shoulder as he moves to kiss you between words, “you’re unbelievable”
his forehead rests against yours for a moment, both of you breathing the same air, smiling like this is the easiest thing in the world. then he shifts closer, his body aligning more fully with yours, the playful energy mellowing into something deeper.
his next kiss isn’t rushed, but it’s fuller, his mouth moving slowly against yours, his lips warm and sure. one hand slides to your side, steady and affectionate, holding you there as the kiss lingers. when he pulls back to look at you, his eyes are soft but intent.
“you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this”, he says quietly.
your pulse skips and before you can answer, he leans in again, kissing you deeper this time, less laughter now, more intention, his warmth settling over you. his tongue slips inside your mouth, tasting you slowly, exploring with a tenderness that contrasts the growing urgency building between you.
you melt into it, your body arching slightly off the bed as the kiss intensifies. a soft hum escapes him, vibrating into your mouth, and you respond with a quiet sigh, your hand sliding up his arm to grip his shoulder. the world narrows to the warmth of his body pressed close, the faint scent of his skin so close to you.
felix shifts then, his elbow digging into the mattress as he moves over you, settling on top of you without crushing you. he’s careful, mindful of not overwhelming you, but the solid press of his body pins you gently to the sheets.
you part your legs instinctively, making room for him, and he sinks lower, his hips aligning with yours, making you feel the growing hardness inside his boxers. the kiss breaks for a moment as he adjusts, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes dark with desire.
“felix”, you say, your voice breathy, but he silences you with another kiss, this one hungrier, his teeth grazing your lip just enough to send a spark through you.
his hands roam your body now - one cupping your jaw to hold you steady, the other trailing down your side, his fingers splaying over your ribs before dipping to the curve of your waist. you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, and he groans softly into your mouth, the sound raw and needy.
the making out turns fervent, your lips sliding wetly, your tongues tangling together desperately. you nip at his upper lip, earning a low chuckle from him that turns into a moan when you suck on his tongue. his body rocks against yours, the friction of his boxers against your bare skin teasing, building a slow burn. your nipples harden against his chest and you whimper into the kiss, your hips lifting to chase more contact.
felix pulls back just enough to trail his mouth along your jaw, peppering kisses there before moving to your neck. his lips are soft at first, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin just below your ear. you tilt your head back, exposing more of your throat, and he takes the invitation, his tongue flicking out to taste the pulse pounding there.
“you’re so beautiful”, he whispers against your skin, his breath hot, before he latches on gently, sucking with enough pressure to draw a loud moan from your lips.
the sound echoes in the room, unrestrained, and it spurs him on. his teeth graze the spot, firm enough to mark, leaving a blooming red spot. one hand comes up to tilt your head further, while his other hand slides lower, skimming over your stomach to your thighs. you gasp as his fingers find your clit, and he circles it slowly, the touch light but deliberate.
“felix- oh my god”, you moan out loud again, the noise tearing from your throat as he sucks another mark into your neck, right where your collarbone meets your shoulder.
his thumb presses firmer on your clit, rubbing in small, tight circles that make your hips buck up against his hand. pleasure coils tight in your core, sharp and insistent, and you clutch at his back, your nails digging into his skin.
he doesn’t stop at your clit for long. after a few moments of teasing that have you panting, his fingers dip lower, tracing your folds before pushing one inside you. your cunt clenches around it, wet and eager, and he adds a second finger easily, curling them to stroke that sensitive spot deep within.
the stretch is perfect, filling you just enough to ache for more, and he moves them slowly, his thumb flicking over your clit. all the while, his mouth devours your neck, alternating between sucking bruises and licking soothing paths over them, marking you as his in this moment.
your moans grow louder, uninhibited, filling the room as waves of heat build under your skin. you’re well aware of the others now, standing outside in the living room and how they can all hear you. you’re sure all of them must be hard and turned on at this point, and if you’re being completely honest, the idea turns you on even more than you should admit.
felix lifts his head, his lips shiny and swollen, his eyes locked on where his fingers disappear inside you. he watches intently, transfixed, as your cunt grips him, slick sounds accompanying each thrust of his hand.
“fuck, look at that”, he breathes, his voice low and husky, laced with awe and want, “you’re taking my fingers so well... you’re so wet and tight for me. i-it’s driving me insane, y/n”
his words wash over you like fire, the soft dirty talk in that sweet tone making your arousal spike. your walls flutter around his fingers, and you feel yourself getting even wetter, the praise hitting every nerve.
“felix, please”, you whine, your hips rolling to meet his hand, chasing the building pressure, “it’s too much... i-i need you”
he groans at your plea, his eyes darkening further as he leans in to capture your mouth again, the kiss messy and deep, all tongue and shared breaths. his fingers slow inside you, then still, and he pulls them out with a wet slide that makes you whimper in protest. but before you can complain, he brings them to your lips, hovering there expectantly.
“taste yourself”, he says against your mouth, his voice suddenly rough with want, “suck them clean for me”
you don’t hesitate, parting your lips to take his fingers in, your tongue swirling around them as you look up at him. the tangy flavor of your arousal floods your mouth and you hollow your cheeks, sucking eagerly while maintaining eye contact. felix’s breath hitches, his pupils blowing wide as he watches, a shudder running through him.
“god, that’s so hot”, he says, pulling his fingers free with a pop before crashing his lips against yours in a quick, fierce kiss. he tastes you on your tongue, moaning into it, the sound vibrating straight to your core, “you turn me on so much... i can’t believe how perfect you are”
the kiss breaks, and you spread your legs wider, planting your feet flat on the bed to tilt your hips up for better access. his hard cock presses against your cunt through the fabric, thick and insistent. he rocks forward experimentally, grinding down, and you both moan at the friction, the way his length slides along your folds, catching on your clit with each pass.
“yes, just like that”, you gasp, wrapping your legs around his waist loosely, pulling him closer.
the dry humping starts slow, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm that has his cock dragging over your sensitive skin, the boxers growing damp from your combined arousal. felix braces himself on his forearms, caging you in, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he thrusts against you, his breaths coming in hot pants against your ear.
you moan into his hair, your fingers tangling there, urging him on as the pressure builds again. his movements pick up, more insistent, the head of his cock nudging your entrance through his boxers with every grind, teasing what you want and need.
“felix... it feels so good”, you say, your voice muffled against his hair.
he lifts his head, capturing your lips in a sloppy kiss, your tongues sliding as your bodies move together, moans spilling into each other’s mouths - yours high and needy, his deep and rumbling.
the closeness is intoxicating, your skin slick with sweat, your hearts pounding in sync as you hump against him desperately, chasing that edge. your clit throbs with each slide of his cock, pleasure coiling tighter, and felix’s groans grow louder, his hips stuttering just a bit as he fights for control. you’re both lost in it, your breaths mingling, moans vibrating against lips that barely part.
just when you’re about to break, felix stops abruptly, pulling back from the grind that had you both teetering on the edge. you whine in frustration, your body throbbing with unmet need, your cunt aching from the denied release.
“why did you stop?”, you ask, your voice breathless and edged with desperation, your hands clutching at his shoulders as you try to pull him back down.
he hovers over you, his eyes dark and intense, a soft smile tugging at his swollen lips despite the strain in his expression.
“because i need you now”, he says, the words rough with want, his breath fanning hot over your face. before you can respond, he leans in and kisses you fiercely, his tongue claiming your mouth one more time, making you dizzy.
felix breaks the kiss with a groan, and his hands hook into the waistband of his boxers, shoving them down and off in one swift motion, freeing his cock. it springs up, thick and hard, the tip flushed red and glistening with precum, veins pulsing along the length.
he kicks the fabric aside and shifts back, lying down fully on the bed, his head hitting the pillows as he stretches out, his body tense with anticipation. his cock stands rigid against his stomach, inviting, and he reaches for you with both hands.
“come here”, he says, his voice low and husky.
confusion flickers through you at first but he doesn’t give you time to overthink. his hands grip your waist, pulling you up and moving you with gentle firmness. he turns you around so your back faces him, guiding your body until you’re straddling his hips in reverse, your knees sinking into the mattress on either side of him. you settle onto his stomach, his cock right in front of you, hard and insistent.
the position feels exposed, vulnerable, your cunt hovering near him, slick and empty. you hesitate, glancing over your shoulder at him, a flush creeping up your neck.
“felix... i’ve never done it like this before”, you admit softly, uncertainty lacing your words.
the angle is new - him flat on his back, you facing away, controlling the depth but not able to see his face. it makes your heart race, a mix of nerves and excitement twisting in your gut. his hands slide up your thighs reassuringly, his thumbs stroking soothing circles into your skin.
“it’s okay, y/n”, he says, his voice warm and steady, again full of that sunshine confidence that eases your doubts, “i’ve got you. just go slow at first, lower yourself onto me when you’re ready. it will feel amazing, i promise. do you trust me?”
his tone is tender, encouraging, and you nod, biting your lip as the reassurance melts away the last of your hesitation. you turn your attention forward, your eyes dropping to his cock, so close now that you can feel its heat radiating up to your core. it’s thicker than you expected up close like this, the head leaking steadily, and a fresh wave of arousal pulses through you.
unable to resist, you wrap your fingers around the base, feeling him twitch in your grip. your hand strokes him slowly at first, up and down, your thumb swiping over the slit to spread the slick precum. felix moans deeply, the sound rumbling from his chest, his hips bucking up slightly into your touch.
“f-fuck, yes... keep going”, he breathes, his voice strained, his hands tightening on your hips as you pump him firmer. the way he throbs in your hand makes your cunt clench emptily, wetness trickling down your thighs onto his stomach.
after a few more strokes that have him groaning louder, you guide him to your entrance. the head nudges against your folds, parting them easily, and you sink down slowly. his cock stretches you open, filling you completely in this new angle, the thickness pressing against your walls in ways that knock the air out of your lungs.
“oh god, felix”, you moan, your voice breaking as you bottom out, seated fully on him.
he echoes your moan, a deep, guttural sound that vibrates through both of you.
“you’re so tight... it feels incredible”, he says, his hands roaming up your back to steady you.
you pause there, adjusting to the fullness, the way his cock hits deeper from below, rubbing spots that send sparks up your spine. then you start to move, lifting your hips and dropping back down, riding him in a slow, experimental rhythm. wet sounds fill the room as your cunt grips him on every thrust, arousal coating his shaft and dripping onto his stomach.
felix lets you set the pace at first, his breaths coming in sharp bursts, but soon he props himself up on one elbow, just enough to reach around your body. one hand finds your breast, cupping it before pinching your nipple between his fingers, rolling it gently at first, then tugging harder to match your building speed.
“you’re doing so well”, he praises you, his voice husky and sweet, sending shivers down your spine.
then he sits up a bit more, his other hand snaking lower, his fingers finding your clit swollen and sensitive. he rubs it in firm circles, syncing with your bounces, the sensations overwhelming. overstimulation hits you like a wave, because your body is already primed from the dry humping, the fingering, everything before, and now this.
pleasure borders on too much, sharp and unrelenting, making your thighs quiver. you can’t hold yourself upright anymore and with a cry, you lean forward, bracing your hands on his knees for leverage, your ass lifting higher as you grind down harder.
the new angle drives his cock even deeper, the head dragging against your spot relentlessly, and you feel yourself dripping more, slickness soaking his skin and the sheet, the wetness audible with every slap of your bodies.
“look at you, taking me so perfectly”, felix says, his praise soft and adoring, his breath hot against your back as he sits up more to maintain contact, “you’re gripping me like you never want to let go... you’re so wet for me, you’re making me feel so good”
his words make you moan, heightening the intimacy, making your walls flutter around him. his fingers don’t let up on your clit, pinching lightly now, while his other hand kneads your breast, his thumb flicking the nipple in time with your movements.
you ride him faster, your hips snapping down, the coil in your stomach tightening unbearably. your moans spill from your lips unchecked, high and desperate, mingling with his deeper groans as he thrusts up to meet you, the bed creaking under the force.
“felix- i’m c-close, don’t stop”, you gasp, your nails digging into his knees, your body trembling as the overstimulation pushes you towards the edge.
“i’m right there with you”, he says, his voice breaking on a moan, his hand pressing harder on your clit. the praise keeps coming, sweet and filthy, “come for me, let me feel you squeeze my cock... you’re so beautiful like this, all mine now”
it tips you over, your orgasm crashes through you, your cunt convulsing wildly around him, milking his length as waves of ecstasy rip from your core. you cry out, your body shaking, and felix follows seconds later, his cock pulsing deep inside as he spills his cum into you, groaning your name.
exhausted, you collapse, your breaths ragged as aftershocks ripple through you. felix falls back to the bed with a satisfied sigh, his hands still gently caressing your thighs, both of you spent and connected in the hazy glow of release.
felix notices the way your body stays folded forward, your breath still uneven, and immediately reaches for you.
“sunshine”, he says softly, brushing his thumb over your thigh, “come here”
his hands slide to your sides, steady and gentle, sliding out of you and guiding you carefully until you’re lying beside him instead. you let yourself sink into the mattress next to him, turning onto your side. he mirrors you instantly, close enough that your knees brush, his forehead leaning against yours. the intensity has faded a bit, your bodies still humming but relaxed now.
he kisses you softly, slow and unhurried, full of affection. nothing rushed. nothing demanding. you smile into the kiss, letting out a quiet laugh.
“okay, i have to say… i really liked that”, you admit, your cheeks warm.
his eyes brighten immediately, “yeah?”
you nod, “yeah, i didn’t know i’d like it that much”
his laugh is light, “good. i mean-”, he ducks his head a little, kissing you again, “i’m glad”
you keep kissing between sentences, lazy and affectionate, your fingers tracing idle patterns along his arm.
“you were really good”, you say.
he scoffs softly, “you’re biased”
“i’m not”, you insist, kissing him again, “you know i’m a very honest person”
he hums, pretending to consider it, then sighs against your lips.
“i know i have to go”, he says reluctantly, “but i really don’t want to”
you laugh, resting your forehead against his, “i figured you’d say that”
he pulls back just long enough to grab his boxers, slipping them on slowly, still stealing kisses whenever he leans back towards you. one last kiss, longer than the rest, before he straightens. at the door, he pauses, turning back with that familiar bright smile and a playful glint in his eyes.
“you know”, he says casually, “if you ever want to try more positions…”
you raise a brow.
“you just have to call me”, he finishes, winking.
you laugh, biting your lip as he laughs too.
“save some energy”, he adds lightly, “i’ll see you later”
the door closes behind him, leaving you alone again, warmth still lingering, your smile slow and thoughtful as you stare at the ceiling. the sheets are rumpled beneath you, carrying the imprint of everything that’s already happened today.
four.
the thought hits you suddenly, almost dizzying. you’ve already had four of them. and there are still four more waiting.
it’s indulgent. unreal. intoxicating. you let out a quiet laugh, one hand sliding over your stomach as you stare up at the ceiling. you’re still not used to this, this fully immersed in desire that doesn’t ask you to hold back. and you know it should scare you but, instead of fading, the excitement builds.
your breath grows a little heavier as anticipation creeps in again, the knowledge that you’re not done, that this is still stretching out in front of you. the way each boy has touched you differently, looked at you differently, wanted you in their own way.
your thighs close instinctively, and you close your eyes for a second, letting the sensation roll through you. you’re still sensitive, still warm, still very aware of your own body and how easily it responds, how you’re still dripping and clenching your thighs.
“this is insane”, you murmur to yourself, your voice soft.
but you’re smiling.
eventually, you push yourself upright, reaching for the tissues on your nightstand again. you move slowly, carefully, taking a moment to clean yourself up. every small movement reminds you of where you are, what you’re doing, how much more there is still to come. you toss the used tissues away and settle back against the pillows, your fingers combing through your hair as you take a steadying breath.
then the door opens and you turn your head just as han steps inside. he freezes for half a second when he sees you there - flushed, relaxed, lying there for him, the sheet barely covering your lower half - and then his lips curl into a familiar, crooked smile.
“hey”, he says, his voice warm, his eyes already bright with anticipation.
you smile at him before you even think about it, “hey yourself”
han closes the door behind him and crosses the room with an easy confidence, his boxers covering his growing bulge. he climbs onto the bed without asking, flopping down beside you on his side, propping himself up on one elbow so he can look at you properly.
“wow”, he says, grinning, “you look… very well taken care of. what? did someone do something to you?”
you snort, “don’t act like you weren’t listening”
“okay, yeah”, he laughs, “maybe i was”
you turn onto your side to face him, the sheet sliding but staying in place on your waist, your knees brushing his thigh. his eyes flicker down for half a second before meeting yours again, amused and very aware.
there’s a beat of comfortable silence, just the two of you smiling at each other like this is the most natural thing in the world. then you tilt your head, feigning innocence.
“so”, you say, your hand sliding up his chest, “it’s just you this time, right?”
his brows lift, “what do you mean?”
“you know exactly what i mean”, you say, “last time you brought help. ice. tricks. surprises”
he laughs, shaking his head, “oh come one, i just did what the wheel said”
“i know”, you say, “so… should i be bracing myself?”
he leans in a little closer, lowering his voice just enough to make your pulse skip.
“don’t worry”, he says, “you’ll find my body is more than enough to have you screaming and dripping for me”
you scoff softly, but your smile gives you away, “that’s a big claim, jisung”
he smirks, “you doubting me?”
you inch closer, your nose almost brushing his, “i might need some convincing”
his eyes darken and that quiet, confident shift is enough to make your thighs clench, feeling yourself already dripping for him like he said.
“i’m very good at convincing”, he says.
you laugh, your breath a little unsteady now, “you’re so sure of yourself”
“only with you”
the words land harder than expected, and the teasing slows. his hand drifts to your waist, resting there casually, like it belongs there, and you don’t move it away.
“careful there”, you say, “you’re starting to sound dangerous”
he leans closer, his forehead brushing yours, “you’re letting all of us have our way with you because you also want it… i think you like dangerous, y/n”
maybe you do.
your fingers hook lightly into the waistband of his boxers, pulling just a bit, but it’s more suggestion than action. his breath hitches, just barely, and you smile.
“still think your body is enough?”, you whisper.
his answer is simple. he kisses you, unhurried at first, but when you kiss him back, it deepens naturally, teasing giving way to intention. his hand tightens slightly on your waist, grounding, steady, confident without forcing anything. your fingers curl into his side as you shift closer, your bodies aligning easily.
when he pulls back just enough to look at you, you try to follow his lips, not wanting to break the kiss just yet. he sees you trying to kiss him again and he smiles, darker this time.
“told you”, he murmurs.
and then he kisses you again, slower, deeper, the playful energy no longer there, disappearing into something undeniably heated. the pace quickens, han presses closer, his mouth claiming yours with more insistence, nipping at your lower lip before soothing it with a swipe of his tongue. your hands slide up his chest to tangle in his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss.
his mouth trails from your lips, ghosting along your jawline before finding the sensitive skin of your neck. he sucks gently at first, his teeth grazing just enough to send sparks down your spine, then harder, marking you with a blooming bruise that makes you arch into him.
“you’re mine for now”, he whispers against your skin, his voice low and deep, the vibration humming through you.
you tilt your head to give him better access, your own lips seeking out his neck in retaliation, kissing the pulse point there, then biting down softly, sucking until a faint red mark appears. han groans, the sound muffled against your throat, his body shifting as he rolls you both, pinning you beneath him. his weight settles over you, his hips aligning with yours, the thin barrier of his boxers doing little to hide how hard he is, pressing insistently against you.
you feel powerful even under him, your hands roaming down his back, your nails scraping over the muscles that flex under your touch. your fingers hook into the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down and exposing the curve of his ass before sliding them lower.
han lifts his hips just enough to help you, kicking them off without breaking his rhythm on your neck, sucking harder now, his tongue licking the mark he’s leaving, a possessive edge to it that makes your cunt clench with need. you moan loudly, the sound echoing in your room, raw and unfiltered.
“fuck, jisung”, you moan, your body writhing beneath him, your thighs parting instinctively to cradle his naked form.
he chuckles against your skin, pulling back just enough to admire his work, a red mark blooming along your collarbone.
“already moaning like that? baby, i haven’t even started”, he teases you, his voice husky, his breath fanning hot over the marks he’s created, “you sound so desperate for me, y/n. i bet you’re soaking just from a little kissing”
his words make you squirm, your hands gripping his shoulders as you try to pull him back down. but he hovers there, smirking, his eyes locked on yours as his hands explore your body.
his fingers skim over the swell of your breasts, cupping them lightly without touching the hardened nipples that ache for attention, his thumbs hovering just at the edges. he moves lower, his hands splaying across your waist before sliding down to your thighs, parting them wider but never venturing inward.
the teasing is deliberate, agonising, his touch everywhere except where the heat pools hottest between your legs, where your clit throbs untouched and your entrance begs for friction. you whimper, your hips bucking up seeking more, the denial building a frustrating ache that has you begging.
“jisung, please... t-touch me”, you plead, your voice breaking on the words, your body trembling under his deliberate restraint.
he silences you with another kiss, deep and consuming, as he swallows your whines. when he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his eyes half-lidded and intense.
“shh, be patient, baby”, he says, his hand still stroking your outer thigh, “i told you my body’s all you need. let me show you how crazy i can make you without rushing”
his tone sends a fresh gush of arousal slicking your folds, but he doesn’t relent, his touches remain feather-light and maddeningly avoidant. he shifts lower, his lips following the path his hands have traced. he kisses along your collarbone, then down to your chest, hovering over one breast.
his tongue circles the nipple slowly, teasing without quite touching, his breath hot and teasing until you arch up with a frustrated groan. then he closes his mouth over it, sucking firmly while his teeth graze the sensitive flesh, biting just hard enough to draw a sharp gasp from you.
his other hand mirrors the attention on your other breast, his fingers pinching and rolling the nipple between them, tugging in time with the pull of his mouth. pleasure shoots straight to your core, making your cunt flutter emptily, wetness coating your inner thighs as you writhe beneath him.
satisfied with the marks he’s left there, he continues downward, his tongue flicking out to lick a wet trail over your stomach. his eyes never leave yours, dark and hungry, holding your gaze as he dips into your navel, then lower still, savoring the way your body quiver under his touch. that unwavering eye contact makes your cheeks burn, but you can’t look away. he reaches the tops of your thighs, licking the sensitive skin there, his lips brushing kisses along the crease where leg meets hip.
he moves to the inside of one thigh, his teeth nipping playfully at the tender flesh, sucking another faint mark into existence just inches from where you need him most. his breath ghosts over your folds, so close you can feel the warmth, your clit pulsing in anticipation, but he pulls away deliberately, switching to the other thigh. he repeats the torment - kissing, licking, biting - drawing out the tease until your hips move, seeking his mouth.
“jisung, god, p-please… j-just touch me there”, you beg him, your voice high and desperate, your hands fisting the sheets as frustration coils tight in your stomach.
he pauses, looking up at you with a wicked smile, his chin resting on your thigh.
“see? just my mouth, nothing else, and you’re already begging like this”, he says, his voice rough with his own arousal, his eyes flicking down to where you’re glistening for him, “imagine what it’ll feel like when i finally give you what you want”
the words are a taunt, but there’s a playful edge that only heightens the ache. before you can respond, he dives in, his tongue flat and broad as it licks a slow stripe up your folds, tasting your arousal with a hum of approval.
“you’re so sweet”, he murmurs against you, then circles your clit with the tip of his tongue, flicking it lightly before sucking gently.
you cry out, your hips bucking as waves of pleasure crash over you. he doesn’t hold back now, his mouth working you over with focused intent, his tongue delving into your entrance to lap at the slickness there, then returning to your clit.
your hands fly to his hair, gripping tight as you grind against his face, almost riding him in your desperation. he groans into you, the vibration sending shocks through your core, his hands pinning your thighs wider to devour you deeper, his nose bumping your clit as his tongue thrusts inside.
but just as the coil winds unbearably tight, your moans turning frantic, han pulls back abruptly, his lips shiny with you. you whine in protest, but he crawls up, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss. you taste yourself on him, fueling your hunger as your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling him closer. he settles between your legs, his cock heavy and leaking against your thigh, the tip nudging your entrance as he grinds once, twice, teasing the stretch without entering.
he positions himself, about to thrust in, when his eyes catch something on the wall - the full-length mirror, reflecting the scene in vivid detail, your flushed body arched beneath him, his muscles taut as he hovers, the raw intimacy captured from the side.
his gaze locks on the mirror, the reflection capturing every flushed inch of your body splayed beneath him, his own form hovering with restrained hunger. the sight pulls a low groan from his throat, but he freezes just as his cock nudges your entrance without pushing in. you feel him pausing, your body clenching around nothing, desperate for the fill you’ve been craving since his mouth left you trembling.
“jisung please”, you beg him, your voice cracking as frustration and need crash over you.
your hands clutch at his shoulders, pulling him down with all your strength. your hips buck up instinctively, trying to draw him in, but he holds back. tears of overwhelming want prick at your eyes, your breaths coming in shaky sobs as you writhe beneath him.
“i need you inside me now. fuck, i can’t wait anymore”
the words tumble out raw and unfiltered, your cunt throbbing with emptiness, slick dripping down your thighs. han’s eyes soften for a split second, dark with desire, but he just dips his head, capturing your lips in a deep, soothing kiss that steals your breath. his tongue strokes yours lazily, contrasting the urgency of your pleas, grounding you even as it stokes the fire.
when he pulls back, his hands are gentle but firm on your hips, moving you onto your hands and knees, the sheets bunching under your palms as he positions you in front of the mirror, your reflection staring back with wide, needy eyes and lips swollen from his kisses.
he kneels behind you, his cock heavy and leaking against your inner thigh, sliding through your folds once to coat himself in your wetness. he bends forward, his chest pressing to your back, his mouth hot against your ear. one hand tangles in your hair, tilting your head so you’re forced to meet your own gaze in the mirror.
“look at yourself”, he says, his voice a rough whisper that sends shivers racing over your skin, “see how fucking beautiful you are right now? on your knees for me, begging like this, dripping for my cock. you’re perfect, y/n, god, i could watch you like this forever”
the words hit hard, vulnerability mixing with the heat as you watch yourself in the mirror, the raw need etched on your face making your core clench tighter. you whimper, pushing back against him, but he holds your hips steady, drawing out the tease.
“jisung, please…i need it, i-i need you”, your voice is a whine, your body trembling on all fours, the mirror amplifying every quiver, every bead of sweat trailing down your spine.
finally, he straightens just enough, gripping your hips as the tip of his cock presses to your entrance, parting the slick folds before he thrusts in, stretching you open. you cry out, your eyes locked on the mirror as you watch him disappear inside you, the sight filthy and intoxicating as he bottoms out with a groan.
“fuck, so tight for me”, he says, his voice strained as he starts to move, pulling out halfway before slamming back in, setting a steady rhythm that has your breasts bouncing, your arms shaking.
you can’t tear your eyes away from the reflection, the visual of him fucking you from behind, his abs flexing with each thrust, his hands gripping your hips, pushing you higher.
“that’s it, baby, look how good you take me”, han says, leaning forward to nip at your shoulder, his pace quickening, “so pretty like this. you’re made for me, aren’t you?”
his words fuel the fire, each praise sending jolts straight to your core, your walls fluttering around him as he drives deeper, the wet sounds of skin slapping skin filling the room. he doesn’t let up, thrusting harder now, the head of his cock hits that spot inside you with every thrust, making stars burst behind your eyelids, but you force yourself to watch, to see the pleasure twisting your features, the way your mouth falls open in silent screams.
“jisung- oh god, yes, right there”, you moan, pushing back to meet him, the mirror showing the perfect sync of your bodies colliding.
then, he pulls you up with him, your back flush against his chest. his arm moves around your waist, holding you steady as he stays seated inside you, the new position letting him rub his cock against your walls from a different angle. both of you face the mirror now, the reflection even more intimate - your legs spread wide, your breasts heaving, his free hand roaming possessively over your skin.
“look at us”, he says against your neck, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “so fucking hot together. see how i fill you up? you’re glowing for me”
his hand cups one breast, his fingers pinching and rolling the nipple until you arch into his touch, a moan escaping your lips. the other hand dips lower, his fingers finding your clit, circling it firmly, then flicking in time with his thrusts as he picks up speed again. the stimulation is overwhelming, pleasure coiling tight in your stomach, your cunt squeezing him.
“fuck, jisung, i’m so close”, you whimper, your head falling back against his shoulder, but he turns your chin gently, forcing your eyes to the mirror.
you turn your head instead, seeking his mouth, crashing your lips against his in a messy, desperate kiss. your tongues tangle as you moan into him, the vibrations humming through both of you, his thrusts never faltering. he swallows your cries, biting your lower lip before releasing, both of you panting as you break apart.
“eyes on the mirror, baby, watch me make you come”, he tells you, his voice raspy, and you obey, locking gazes with your reflections - his intense stare over your shoulder, your own eyes wide and glassy.
the sight tips you over - his fingers pressing harder on your clit, the others pinching your nipple, his cock slamming inside you as your bodies move in perfect, heated unison. you come first, shattering around him with a scream. it’s intense, harder than before, a gush of wetness squirting out around his cock - not a flood, but enough to soak his thighs and the sheets below, the mirror capturing the way your body trembles, your cunt pulsing visibly. han follows seconds later, groaning your name as he buries deep, hot spurts of cum flooding you, his hips jerking erratically through the aftershocks.
your eyes stay connected in the reflection, the shared vulnerability in that gaze prolonging your highs, your bodies locked together as you ride it out. he softens inside you, but doesn’t pull out yet - instead, he dips his head to your neck, his lips latching on to suck a fresh mark into the skin, his teeth grazing as he marks you one last time. the sensation draws a final shiver from you, oversensitive and spent.
“you’re so beautiful when you come for me”, he says, his voice tender now, laced with awe.
with a shared sigh, he eases you both down, collapsing onto the bed in a tangle of limbs - him spooning you from behind, his cock slipping free with a wet sound, his cum trickling down your thighs. you nestle back into him, his arm draping over your waist, pulling you closer.
han stays wrapped around you for a moment longer, his breathing slowly evening out against your back. then, carefully, like he’s afraid to jostle you too much, he shifts.
“hey”, he says softly.
he guides you with gentle hands, turning you until you’re lying on your back, the sheets cool beneath you. he hovers over you briefly, his eyes scanning your face with an uncharacteristic seriousness.
“you good?”, he asks quietly, “i didn’t- i mean, tell me you’re okay”
you answer by tugging him down instead, your fingers curling into his hair as you kiss him. it’s not rushed or hungry now, it’s just warm and lingering, reassuring. he melts into it instantly, a small laugh escaping him against your mouth.
“okay”, he says, kissing you again, “i’ll take that as a yes”
“i’m more than okay”, you murmur between kisses, pulling him closer when he tries to lift his head, “don’t overthink it”
he exhales, relief softening his expression, “okay”, he says, half amused, half fond.
he steals another kiss, slower this time, before finally rolling onto his side and reaching for his boxers. he pulls them on, still glancing at you like he’s not quite ready to leave yet. he leans in and kisses you again, just before he stands up and goes to the door. at the door, he pauses, his fingers resting on the handle, then looks back with a playful glint in his eyes.
“hey, y/n”, he says, “don’t use the mirror with the next one”
you raise an eyebrow, deciding to tease him a bit, “or what?”
he scoffs lightly, trying to appear mad but smiling.
“or i’ll get jealous”, he laughs, then adds, “no, seriously, that was-”, he gestures vaguely, then shakes his head with a laugh, “it wouldn’t be fair”
you laugh too, the sound warm and loose, “no promises”
he groans softly, shaking his head as he opens the door, “you’re dangerous”
“you’re the one that came up with that idea”
he smiles one last time before slipping out, the door closing quietly behind him. you sit up slowly, the sheet sliding down your body, which still hums, your skin warm, marked by the memory of his hands, his voice, the way he looked at you. and not only han, also the ones that came before him.
you run a hand through your hair, letting out a slow breath. you shift closer to the centre of the bed, the sheets sliding softly beneath you as you reposition yourself until the mirror is fully in view again. the sight of your reflection makes your breath catch.
you barely recognise yourself - your hair mussed, your skin flushed, your lips swollen from kisses that haven’t quite faded yet. faint marks bloom across your body, proof of everything that’s happened today. you look touched. claimed. wanted. desired.
your chest rises and falls a little faster as you take it all in. there’s something intoxicating about seeing it, about seeing yourself like this. undone and glowing, your eyes a little glassy, your posture loose in the aftermath of pleasure. the mirror doesn’t let you hide from it, and you don’t want to.
the heat curls low in your body again, slow and insistent, a now familiar warmth spreading as anticipation builds again. you swallow, your thighs shifting slightly beneath the sheet, your body reacting before your mind can catch up.
your fingers lift without thinking, tracing the line of your jaw, then brushing over your lips. they feel sensitive, still tingling. you press them together gently, remembering how they were kissed, bitten, licked, murmured into just moments ago. the thought alone makes your stomach tighten.
you tilt your head, studying your reflection again, watching the way your body responds, how your breathing changes, how your posture softens into something open and inviting without you meaning it to.
and then the door opens again.
you don’t look away from the mirror right away. you hear the soft click of it closing again, footsteps crossing the room, unhurried, stopping beside the bed and only then do you turn your head.
seungmin stands there, wearing nothing but his boxers. his gaze lands on you instantly, on the way you’re stretched across the bed, on the marks you haven’t bothered to hide, on the way you’re looking at yourself in the mirror and then at him.
for a split second, he just stares at you. then his lips part slightly, and he exhales a quiet, almost disbelieving breath.
“wow”, he says softly.
“come here”, you say, it’s not an order, not quite, but it lands like one anyway.
seungmin barely has time to react before you’re moving. you rise onto your knees on the bed, the sheet completely forgotten at this point, and grab him by the shoulders, pulling him into you. your mouths meet in a kiss that’s immediate and unrestrained, all heat and urgency.
his hands come up instinctively, gripping your waist, his fingers digging in. the kiss deepens, your bodies knocking together as he steps closer, caught completely off guard by your energy.
“wow, what-”, he says again against your mouth, half a laugh, half disbelief, but he doesn’t pull away, you don’t give him the chance.
using more strength than you realise you still have, you guide him down with you, moving until your back meets the mattress and you pull him over you. he braces himself on his forearms just in time, hovering above you, his eyes dark and searching as your lips find his again.
the kiss turns slower here, heavier, deliberate. your hands slide up his back, holding him there. he kisses you back with growing hunger, need bleeding into every movement, until he stops. he pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours, his breath uneven.
“okay”, he says quietly, “i’m not complaining about this, but-”, his thumb brushes your side, grounding you, “what has gotten into you?”
you try to kiss him again, chasing his mouth, but he pauses you with a gentle touch to your cheek.
“hey”, he says, “come on, talk to me”
you lean into his hand instead, your eyes soft but intense.
“i just-”, you exhale shakily, “i just need you close right now. i want you here, with me”
something shifts in his expression, surprise melting into warmth, into something protective and real. he kisses you then, deeper this time, slower but no less intense. his lips move against yours with purpose, like he’s grounding both of you through the contact. his hand stays firm on your waist, steady, reassuring. when he pulls back, his voice is low, careful.
“how is it going?”, he says, his eyes searching yours, “how are you holding up after… everything?”
you stop kissing him, really stop this time, and look at him properly. he’s still hovering over you, still warm, still close, but now there’s space for words. your hands rest on his shoulders, your thumbs brushing his skin as you speak.
“i’m okay”, you say softly, “better than okay, just… a bit overwhelmed, but in a good way, don’t worry”
his brows knit slightly, a bit of concern still there, “you sure?”
“yeah”, you nod, “it’s intense. all of it. but i like how it makes me feel”
you meet his eyes and his expression softens completely.
“okay”, he says quietly, “i was just checking, there’s no rush, just do whatever you want”
seungmin’s lips brush your forehead, lingering there before he trails softer kisses across your face - first to one cheek, then the other, each press light and tender, warming the skin flushed from earlier. he dots a quick one on the tip of your nose, drawing a small, surprised giggle from you that breaks the tension just enough. his eyes crinkle at the edges with gentle amusement, but there’s heat building underneath, a subtle shift as his mouth finds yours once more.
this kiss starts tender but it deepens quickly, mouths opening to let tongues meet in slow, exploratory strokes. his hand cups the side of your face, his thumb tracing your jawline, while the other stays on your waist, pulling you closer. your fingers thread into his hair, tugging lightly to angle him better, and the need becomes even bigger, kisses turning hungrier, breaths mingling hot and ragged.
you roll your hips experimentally, pressing your core against the growing hardness in his boxers, and he groans low into your mouth. you break away just long enough to move him - your hands push at his shoulders, guiding him until his back hits the headboard with a soft thud. he lets you, a surprised huff escaping him as you straddle his lap, your knees bracketing his thighs, your bare skin brushing his clothed one.
“careful there”, he says, his voice husky but laced with concern, his hands settling on your hips to steady you, “you good? not pushing too hard after... everything?”
you nod, leaning in to capture his lips again, but not before a shared laugh bubbles up as the position settles.
“i’m perfect”, you whisper against him, and the words seem to reassure him, his grip loosening, his palms sliding up your sides.
the laughter fades into moans as you kiss him again, deeper this time, your body rocking instinctively against his. you feel him harden fully beneath you, the thick outline of his cock straining against the fabric of his boxers, pressing right up into your slick folds through the barrier.
his moan vibrates against your mouth, low and needy, as you grind down deliberately now, circling your hips to drag your cunt along his length. your clit catches on the ridge of him with each pass, building that familiar ache low in your stomach.
“fuck”, he breathes, breaking the kiss to tilt his head back slightly, his eyes half-lidded as he watches you move.
his hands continue moving, one squeezing your ass to encourage you, the other tracing up to cup your breast, his thumb flicking over your nipple until you arch into it with a gasp. your movements grow more insistent, slickness soaking through his boxers as you chase the pressure.
but you want more, you need more. you trail kisses down his jaw, nipping at the sharp line before moving to his neck. you start sucking a light mark into the skin just below his ear, your tongue soothing the spot as he shudders beneath you.
“god, y/n”, he groans, his head falling to the side to give you better access, “you feel so good like this, k-keep going”
you kiss lower, across his chest, your tongue flicking over one nipple before sucking it briefly.
“if you wanna know why i was like that when you came in, it’s just... with han before, i completely lost it. the mirror… he had me on my knees, watching myself beg for him, and then he fucked me from behind while we stared at each other. and before that, all the others... it’s all so intense”, you pause to bite his nipple lightly, drawing a moan from him, “so i’m feeling extra needy right now, like i can’t get enough. and also, last time, with you... you were so sweet, so soft, the only one that made love to me... so you deserve a reward today, let me take care of you”
seungmin’s breaths come faster, his cock twitching under you as your words sink in, his hips bucking up involuntarily to meet your grinding.
“f-fuck, hearing that... you’re killing me, and i should be the one doing that”, he says, his fingers tightening in your hair.
you slide lower, kissing down his body, as your hands hook into the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down. he lifts his hips to help you, kicking them off, until he’s naked beneath you, his cock springing free, thick and veined, the tip already glistening with precum. you settle between his legs, your eyes locked on his as your hand wraps around the base, giving a slow, firm stroke that has him hissing through his teeth.
“y/n- fuck, yes”, he moans, watching you, anticipation darkening his gaze.
he thinks you’re going for it, your mouth hovering close, your breath ghosting over the sensitive head, your lips parting just enough to tease. his hand reaches out, his thumb brushing your cheek encouragingly, a silent plea in his eyes.
but at the last second, you pull back, a mischievous glint in your eye as you shake your head.
“as much as i want to”, you say, your voice low and teasing, pumping him once more to keep the edge sharp, “it wouldn’t be fair to the others. i didn’t do this with any of them, we have to keep it even, you know?”
seungmin’s expression twists into near desperation, a whine escaping him as his hips jerk into your hand.
“what? no, please y/n- come on, just a little, i-i’ll beg if you want”, his voice cracks on the last word, his cock throbbing in your grip, leaking more as he stares at you with wide, pleading eyes, his chest heaving.
the sight tugs at you, but you hold firm, releasing him with a final squeeze before crawling back up his body. you straddle him again, your chest pressing flush to his, your nipples grazing his skin as you align your hips. his cock nestles hot and heavy against your cunt, sliding through your wetness as you rock once, coating him.
“maybe another time”, you whisper, leaning in to kiss him softly, reassuringly, your hand guiding his cock to your entrance, “it could be just you and me… no rules, no more wheels. i promise i will suck you off then”
with that promise hanging in the air, your hips sink down slowly, taking the head of his cock past your entrance in one deliberate motion. the stretch is immediate, your walls fluttering around him as you lower yourself further until he’s fully inside you.
seungmin’s head falls back against the headboard with a thud, a loud, unrestrained moan ripping from his throat as your cunt clenches tight around him, slick and welcoming after all the buildup.
“fuck, y/n”, he gasps, his eyes squeezing shut for a second, his hands on your hips to hold you steady, his fingers digging into the soft flesh there.
the sound is so desperate, so unfiltered, that it sends a thrill through you, but you lean forward quickly, crashing your mouth against his to muffle the next groan. as you start to move, rolling your hips, he moans again, but this time it’s into your kiss, the sound muffled and intimate. you echo it back, a soft whimper escaping you as his cock drags against your inner walls, hitting that spot deep inside with every shift.
you lift slightly before dropping back down, taking him deeper each time, while he thrusts up to meet you, the slap of skin on skin starting soft but growing wetter, more insistent. you keep kissing him through it, your mouths never fully parting, your tongues tangling lazily at first, then with more urgency as the pleasure coils tighter.
“god, you feel amazing”, he says against your lips, his voice breathy and rough, his eyes locked on yours, “so tight around me”
you smile into the next kiss, nipping at his bottom lip before whispering back, “keep talking like that and i’ll ride you all day. you like how i take you?”
“yeah- fuck, yes. don’t stop, y/n. just like that”
the words spur you on, your pace quickening. you bounce a little harder now, your breasts brushing his chest. sweat beads on his skin, and you can feel your own arousal dripping down, easing the glide as his cock moves in and out.
his hands wander upward from your hips, sliding over the curve of your waist to cup your breasts, his palms warm and possessive. he squeezes them first, his thumbs tugging at your nipples with just enough pressure to make you arch into his touch, a sharp gasp breaking from your throat.
“you are perfect”, he says, his voice laced with awe and hunger, rolling your nipples between his fingers as you ride him. his words have you moaning louder, your head tipping back briefly.
“keep talking, minnie”, you say, grinding down to feel him bottom out, your clit grinding against him, “tell me how good you feel inside me”
“so fucking good… you’re gripping me so hard. you like this, huh?”, his moves quicken, making your walls flutter wildly around him.
you nod frantically, encouraging him, “yes, just like that- d-don’t stop”, your hands on his shoulders as you also pick up speed, the room filling with the sounds of your bodies connecting - wet smacks, heavy breaths, mingled moans.
the tension builds relentlessly, that familiar heat pooling low in your stomach again. you’re both close, you can feel it in the way his thrusts grow erratic, his hips snapping up with more force.
without thinking, your hand slips between your bodies, your fingers finding your clit, and you start circling it in tight, firm strokes, chasing the release that’s hovering just out of reach. seungmin’s eyes drop to watch you, darkening further at the sight, your fingers working yourself shamelessly while you fuck him, the visual pushing him closer to the brink.
“holy shit”, he says, unable to tear his gaze away, his chest heaving as he thrusts deeper, “t-that’s so hot, y/n, you touching yourself while i’m inside you. fuck, you’re gonna make me come just from seeing you”
his words hit like a spark, intensifying everything. you lean in, capturing his mouth in a fierce kiss to swallow the next moan, your tongues battling as your circles quicken. he matches your pace, one hand still on your breast, the other gripping your ass to pull you down harder onto his cock. the pressure builds until you finally break, your orgasm crashing over you, your walls spasming around him, a cry muffled against his lips as you come undone.
“i-i’m coming- fuck, y/n”, he mumbles brokenly and then, he breaks too, groaning into the kiss as his cock throbs, spilling hot inside you with deep, stuttering thrusts.
you ride your highs together, your movements slowing to a grind as the waves subside, your bodies slick and spent. you collapse against him, your forehead to his shoulder, both of you panting. his arms wrap around you immediately, holding you close. you lift your head, meeting his eyes - softer now, but still dark with hunger - and a lazy smile curves your lips. he mirrors it, before he pulls you in for a hungry kiss, slow and deep.
“mmhm”, you hum against him, nipping playfully, and he chuckles softly, chasing your mouth for more - kisses that linger, teasing as you stay connected, unwilling to separate just yet.
the laughter comes first. it slips out of both of you almost at the same time, soft and breathless, like your bodies don’t quite know what to do with all the leftover energy yet. you rest your forehead against his for a moment, still straddling him, the closeness grounding.
“you know”, you say, brushing your thumb along his lips, “the first time we did this, you were way softer”
he lets out a quiet laugh, his head tipping back against the headboard, “was i?”
“mmhm”, you nod, playful and teasing, “all careful, making love to me”, you tilt your head, smiling knowingly, “today though? you were… different”
his eyes flick back to yours, amused, “different how?”
“harder”, you say simply, grin widening, “like you had to prove that you had it in you”
he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head, “guess i’m just full of surprises”
“dangerous ones”, you add.
he groans, his hands sliding to your hips again, his thumbs pressing lightly like he’s tempted to pull you right back into him. instead, he exhales slowly, before he speaks again.
“come here”, he says.
he helps you move, guiding you gently down until you’re lying back against the mattress. he follows you just enough to press a soft kiss to your lips before he slips out of you completely. you feel the space between you as he straightens, the warmth fading as you feel the rest of your fluids dripping down your thighs.
he reaches for his boxers, pulling them on with a lazy kind of reluctance.
“don’t look so smug”, he says, catching your expression.
“i didn’t say anything”
“you didn’t have to”
he moves towards the door, then pauses and turns back. he walks right back to the bed and leans down beside you again, his voice quieter now, teasing but sincere.
“you know… what you said earlier”, he says, “about, you know… sucking me off another time”
you laugh loudly at his words, “seungmin, i wouldn’t have said it if i didn’t mean it”
his lips curve slowly, satisfaction flickering across his face, “good”
he leans in, kisses you one more time, warm and unhurried, and then he pulls back, brushing his thumb over your cheek.
“good luck with the next one”, he says.
you laugh again as he straightens, and you watch him leave the room with one last glance at you over his shoulder.
the door clicks shut and you’re left there, your breath slow, your body tired and overstimulated but still humming. you lie there for a moment after seungmin leaves, the room quiet except for your own breathing. your thoughts tumble over one another - flashes of hands, voices, laughter, the way each of them feel different with you.
it’s almost overwhelming how wanted you feel and even as your body should be completely spent, there’s that familiar, restless pull again, reminding you that you’re far from done.
the door opens again. you turn your head just in time to see changbin step inside, the soft click of the door closing behind him. he’s only wearing his boxers, showing his growing bulge, his expression immediately darkening when his eyes land on you.
“hey”, he says.
“hi, bin”
he doesn’t rush, he just walks to your bed and lies down facing you, the two of you on your sides, close enough that your knees brush. his gaze flicks over your face, attentive, careful.
“how are you holding up?”, he asks quietly, “really, you can tell me”
you smile at him, warmth spreading through your chest, “i’m good, better than good actually”
he hums, like he’s relieved but still keeping watch, like he always does with you, “yeah? you’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”
“always”, you say, reaching out to brush your fingers lightly over his forearm, “you know that”
“okay, good, just wanted to make sure”
there’s a pause, a comfortable one, but still charged. your finger traces higher, slow and deliberate, following the line of his bicep. you feel him moving, getting closer to you, leaning into your touch.
“so”, you say, your eyes meeting his again, “what’s your plan with me tonight?”
his lips curve, something darker setting on his face. you feel your thighs clenching unconsciously, feeling yourself getting wet again, wondering what’s he gonna do with you. or to you.
“last time”, he says softly, leaning in just enough for his breath to brush your mouth, “you were the one in charge”
you remember. the way he let you lead, let you decide, let you take him however you wanted. let you ride him until you collapsed from your own pleasure.
“you did what you wanted with me”, he continues, his voice low, “used me exactly how you felt like”
your pulse jumps. you nod your head, waiting for him to continue, because that’s the only thing your body can do.
“this time…”, he says, but he doesn’t continue, he kisses you.
it’s firm, deliberate. his hand slides to your waist as he shifts, guiding you onto your back. he follows, bracing himself above you, his weight settling over you, his body pressed against yours, his clothed cock rubbing against your aching cunt.
he pulls back just enough to look at you.
“this time”, he repeats, brushing his lips against yours again, “i’m doing whatever i want”
another kiss, deeper now, claiming you.
“and i’m going to use you”, he says against your mouth, his voice steady, confident, “exactly how i feel like”
and that’s all he needs. his words make you clench around nothing, letting out a moan that he silences with another kiss, hungry and bruising. his tongue sweeps into your mouth with a hunger that matches the fire building in your core, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before he sucks it between his teeth, drawing a soft whimper from you.
his body presses down harder, the thin barrier of his boxers doing little to hide the rigid length of his cock grinding against your bare cunt, the friction sending sparks through your already sensitive folds. you arch up into him, your hands sliding up his back to clutch at his shoulders, your nails digging in as the kiss turns even more desperate.
he breaks the kiss only to tug his boxers down, kicking them aside, his cock springing free, thick and heavy, the tip already glistening with precum. the sight makes your mouth water, and without thinking, your hand darts down, eager to wrap your hand around him, to stroke the heat pulsing there, but changbin catches your wrist, pinning it gently but firmly above your head.
“no”, he says, his voice low and commanding, his eyes locking onto yours, “you can’t touch today. it’s my turn, remember? no hands on me”
your breath hitches at the authority in his tone, a fresh wave of arousal flooding your cunt. you nod, biting your lip, the denial only heightening the ache between your legs.
“okay”, you whisper, your voice breathy.
he releases your wrist but keeps it there with a warning look before crashing his mouth back to yours. the kiss is fiercer now, his hand roaming down your side, tracing the curve of your hip before dipping between your thighs.
his fingers find your clit immediately and he starts circling it with slow, deliberate pressure, the pad of his thumb gliding over the sensitive nub in tight loops that make your hips buck involuntarily.
you moan into his mouth, the sound vibrating against his tongue as pleasure shoots through you. he doesn’t stop the kiss, swallowing every gasp as his touch grows bolder, his fingers parting your folds, stroking through your wetness, coating himself in your arousal.
then, without warning, he slides two fingers inside you, curling them just right to press against that spot. your walls flutter around them, gripping him tight as he pumps slowly, his thumb working your clit.
“fuck, bin”, you gasp when he pulls back for air, your head falling to the side as his lips trail to your neck.
he stays there, sucking a mark in your skin, his teeth scraping lightly before his tongue soothes the sting. all the while, his fingers thrust deeper, moving inside you, stretching you open with them.
“god, i’ve wanted you like this for so long”, he growls against your throat, his voice rough with need, “last time, you took my cock like you owned it, made me watch you come all over me. but i wanted to pin you down, make you beg for it, fuck you until you couldn’t think straight”
his words send heat pooling in your stomach, your cunt clenching harder around his fingers, your hips rolling up to meet each thrust. the wet sounds of him fingering you fill the room, loud and intoxicating, your slick coating his hand as you chase your climax.
“changbin- fuck, yes, right there”, you moan, your body writhing beneath him, your thighs trembling as his fingers curl again, hitting that perfect spot over and over.
you can feel the tension coiling tight, your breaths coming in short, desperate bursts, but he doesn’t let up, his mouth moving lower to suck another bruise into your collarbone while his fingers works you relentlessly. he lifts his head suddenly, his eyes dark and intent as he watches your face contort in pleasure.
“i’m not done yet”, he says, his voice husky, withdrawing his fingers just enough to make you whine at the loss.
before you can protest, he kisses down your body, his lips brushing your breasts, his tongue flicking over one nipple before moving again until he settles between your thighs. his hands spread your legs wider, your thighs hooked over his shoulders, exposing you completely to his gaze.
the first swipe of his tongue is devastating, flat and broad, lapping from your entrance up to your clit in one long, slow drag that has you screaming his name, the sound raw and echoing off the walls.
“changbin! oh god-”
he hums in response, the vibration rumbling through your core as he dives in fully, his mouth sealing over your cunt. his tongue delves inside, tasting every inch of your slick heat while his lips suck gently at your folds. you move against the sheets, your hands fisting the fabric as pleasure overwhelms you.
you lift your head just enough to look at him, but he doesn’t stop, he pulls back just enough to let a thick strand of saliva mixed with your arousal connect his lips to your clit, the sight filthy and intimate as he holds your gaze, his eyes smoldering with hunger.
“look at you”, he says before his mouth returns to your clit, sucking it between his lips with firm, pulsing pressure that makes your back arch off the bed, “such a good girl for me, taking my tongue like this, so wet and needy. you’re dripping all over my face, y/n”
his praise washes over you like fire, your body responding with frantic clenches, your hips grinding up against his mouth. one of his hands goes up to cup your breast, his fingers pinching and rolling your nipple in time with the flicks of his tongue, while his other hand pushes two fingers back inside you, curling deep and thrusting hard.
the combination is too much, everything is too much - his mouth devouring your clit, his fingers filling you, his hand gripping your breast. it pushes you higher, the coil in your stomach winding unbearably tight.
you’re relentless, your moans turning into cries as you chase your release, your thighs quivering around his head. sensing you’re close, changbin moves, his hand leaving your breast to grip your waist instead, his fingers digging into the soft flesh with bruising force, pinning you flat to the mattress. you know there’ll be marks blooming there later - red imprints of his hold, a reminder of his control.
just as your walls start to spasm, the orgasm hovering on the edge, he pulls back abruptly.
“not yet”, he growls against your clit, his fingers slipping out, his mouth lifting away, leaving you trembling and empty, the denial hitting like a punch to the gut.
your body trembles on the edge, every nerve ending screaming for a release that he’s cruelly stopped. the emptiness between your legs aches fiercely, your cunt clenching desperately around nothing, slick dripping down your thighs from the teasing that’s left you so utterly wrecked. tears prick at the corners of your eyes, frustration and need blurring your vision as you look at him, your lips parted in a silent plea.
“please, bin”, you beg, your voice breaking on a sob, the words tumbling out in a rush, “i need it, i-i need you. don’t stop, i can’t take it anymore. fuck, just let me come”
he hovers above you, his cock throbbing against your thigh, the heat of it a torturous reminder of what you’re craving. but changbin doesn’t give in right away. instead, he leans closer, his broad frame caging you in, one hand cupping your cheek to wipe the tears that slip free.
“it’s okay, sweetheart”, he says softly, “i’ve got you, no more tears, quiet now”
his lips brush yours in a gentle kiss, slow and coaxing, swallowing the next whimper that rises in your throat. the kiss deepens just enough to silence your pleas, his tongue tracing the seam of your mouth until you open for him, melting into the warmth as the desperation calms a bit. he pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling in the space between you.
“you’ve been such a good girl for me”, he whispers, the praise making your heart stutter even as your body throbs, “taking everything i give you, letting me tease you until you’re shaking. good girls like you deserve rewards, big ones, and i’m gonna give you exactly what you need”
the words ignite something deep inside, your cunt fluttering in anticipation as he shifts, lining himself up. the head of his cock nudges at your entrance, slick and ready, and with one smooth thrust, he pushes inside, stretching you open, filling the void that’s been tormenting you.
you moan louder than ever before, the sound ripping from your chest, raw and unrestrained, echoing through the room - or rather, the entire dorm - as your walls clamp down around him, greedy for more. he’s so deep already, the pressure perfect, hitting spots that make your toes curl and your back arch.
changbin groans low in his throat, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his lips sucking and biting there, marking the skin with hot, open-mouthed kisses that sting just right.
“fuck, you’re so tight”, he says against your throat, his hips snapping forward.
the fullness is overwhelming, every ridge and vein dragging along your inner walls as he moves - slow at first, deliberate rolls that grind his pelvis against your clit with each pass. you cry out again, the pleasure sharp and immediate, your hands flying to his body - your fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders, then sliding down to his back, your nails scraping lightly as you pull him closer.
he lifts his head to capture your mouth in another kiss, this one messy and fervent, your tongues tangling as moans spill between you. yours vibrate against his lips with every thrust, his own grunts mixing in, the sounds loud but intimate.
“that’s it, y/n”, he praises you between kisses, his voice husky and wrecked, “moan for me like that, let me hear how good my cock feels inside you”
your hands roam restlessly, one threading into his hair to tug gently, urging him deeper into the kiss, the other clutching at his bicep, feeling the flex of muscle as he braces himself.
he adjusts then, hooking one of your legs over his hip, spreading you wider to open you up more fully, one of his hands gripping your thigh to hold it there, the angle allowing him to sink even deeper, the head of his cock brushing that sensitive spot inside with unerring precision.
“y-yeah, like that, please”, you beg him.
“yeah? you like this?”, he says against your lips, his hips picking up speed, “i’m gonna make you come like this, open up for me”, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the air alongside your moans, “just let me fuck you right, i’m gonna make this cunt mine tonight”
the rhythm builds, fast and consuming, each thrust driving you higher, the coil in your stomach tightening again. your cunt flutters around him, slick coating his length, easing the way as he pounds into you, making your vision blur.
“god, look at you- so fucking perfect, taking my cock like this. you’re gonna come so hard for me, aren't you? my good girl, all mine”
“a-all yours, bin”
he shifts again, both hands now on your thighs, pushing them back towards your chest to fold you beneath him, the position exposing you completely. he leans down to kiss you once more, swallowing your cries and moans while his hips snap forward, faster now. your nails rake down his back, leaving faint red trails, and he hisses in pleasure, the sound spurring you on, your hips meeting his thrusts, the friction on your clit building unbearably.
“bin- oh fuck, i’m so close”, you moan into his mouth, your body trembling.
“come with me”, he says, his voice strained, “let go, show me how good i make you feel”
it hits you like a wave, crashing over with blinding intensity. your cunt spasming around him as you come undone. a gush of wetness escapes, just enough to soak where you’re joined, the slight squirt making everything slicker, more intense. changbin notices immediately, groaning deep and triumphant as he feels it, his thrusts stuttering.
“oh f-fuck yes- that’s my girl, squirting for me like that. so hot, y/n, you’re perfect”
that’s enough to tip him over, his hips thrusting one last time as he spills inside you, hot pulses of cum filling you up, his body shuddering with the force of it.
he collapses onto you then, both of you panting and spent. his cock twitches softly inside you, prolonging the aftershocks as your hands slide up to cradle his face, pulling him into a lazy kiss, your lips and tongues exploring lazily. he kisses you like he can’t get enough, even now, murmuring against your mouth between kisses.
“so good... my good girl…”
you kiss him this time, your lips searching for his. the kiss is unhurried, full, his weight settling more carefully now. there’s no rush, just closeness, just his uneven breath ghosting over your skin.
“y/n”, he murmurs softly, brushing his nose against yours, “you with me?”
you nod immediately, your fingers on his jaw, your thumbs stroking his skin, “yeah, all good”
his shoulders drop, relief flashing briefly across his face before that satisfied warmth returns. he kisses you again, gently now, peppering soft kisses along your lips, your nose, your cheek, your forehead.
“you did so good”, he says quietly, “so, so good for me”
his hand moves soothingly over your side, grounding you. you hum in response, pulling him closer just to feel him there a second longer.
eventually, he shifts, a wet sound accompanying as he slips out and his cum trickles down your thigh while he presses one last kiss to your mouth before moving back completely. he straightens, runs a hand through his hair, and then reaches for his boxers, pulling them on slowly.
he turns back to you, his eyes soft but still dark with that lingering edge.
“only one left now”, he says, a small smile tugging at his lips, “and i’m honestly impressed you’re still standing, well, i mean, you’re lying down but, you know what i mean”
you laugh weakly, sinking back into the mattress, “i know, bin”
he steps closer again, bends down to kiss you once more, then brushes his fingers through your hair, smoothing it back from your face.
“i’m proud of you”, he murmurs, “i always am”
your chest tightens at that, warmth spreading somewhere deeper than skin.
“i’ll see you soon”, he adds, his voice dropping just slightly.
then he straightens, gives you one last look, and heads for the door. it closes softly behind him, leaving you alone again, your heart still racing, your body heavy with sensation and overstimulation, the sheets under you a mess of you and the boys. well, almost all of them. there’s only one left.
chan.
you stay there for a few seconds, your chest rising and falling as everything catches up to you. and then, slowly, carefully, you push yourself upright. your legs protest immediately and you laugh under your breath as you stand up, one hand bracing against the bed when your knees wobble.
everything feels pleasantly overstimulated, your muscles loose, your skin sensitive, your body reminding you of just how much it’s been through today. step by step, you make your way towards the bathroom attached to your room, your bare feet sinking into the rug.
the light clicks on softly and you stop in front of the sink, your hands resting on the cool porcelain, and finally, you lift your gaze to the mirror.
it steals the breath right out of your lungs.
you’re flushed, your skin warm and glowing, your eyes a little glassy, your lips swollen from all the kissing. and everywhere - absolutely everywhere - there are marks. faint already in some places, darker in others. along your neck, just below your jaw. scattered beneath your breasts. along your hips, your waist, your thighs. evidence of hands, mouths, teeth. of being touched, held, wanted.
there’s something intoxicating about the sight, about knowing how each mark got there, who left it, what it meant in the moment. you trace one of them with your fingers, then another, watching the way your skin reacts under your touch. the feeling makes your thighs clench involuntarily, and you feel yourself getting wet again.
you look at yourself and feel powerful, desired, still hungry. and then, a soft sound comes from the bedroom, the door opening. you freeze, your eyes flicking up in the mirror. then you hear a dull thud against the floor. fabric, maybe.
before you can turn around, a presence fills the doorway behind you. you meet his reflection first - broad shoulders, familiar stance, relaxed but attentive. chan leans against the bathroom doorframe, like he’s taking you in slowly, deliberately.
oh, and he’s completely naked.
“hey”, he says.
the sound of his voice sends a shiver straight down your spine.
“hey”, you say looking at him through the mirror.
he closes the distance between you, his reflection stepping closer in the mirror, until his chest is almost brushing your back. then, his hands come to rest on your waist, his palms soft against your skin. the touch is careful at first, grounding, like he’s checking in without words. he looks at you in the mirror instead of directly at you, his eyes searching yours.
“you okay?”, he asks quietly, “you holding up?”
you nod, a small smile tugging at your lips.
“yeah, i’m a bit overwhelmed”, you glance at him through the glass, “but i’m good, don’t worry”
his shoulders ease at that, a soft huff of relief leaving him.
“i figured”, he says, “but i still wanted to hear it from you”
he moves closer, his arms wrapping around you fully now, pulling you back against him. the contact is intimate without rushing - his chin near your shoulder, your bodies fitting together easily. you both look at yourselves in the mirror, the contrast striking: you marked and flushed, him steady and solid behind you.
“i thought things couldn’t get crazier than the last time but… guess i was wrong”, you laugh quietly
“yeah, i guess you could say that”, he chuckles against your shoulders, his eyes flicking over the reflection of your skin, the faint marks, the glow, “you really went through all of us”
“well, not yet”, you tease him, and that earns a low laugh from him.
“right. my turn now”
his lips brush your neck then, slow and unhurried, a soft kiss that makes your breath hitch. another one follows, then another, lower this time. his voice hums against your skin. you feel his tongue tracing down your shoulder before he speaks again.
“is this a kink you have?”, he asks casually, “you know, you and the mirror?”
you smile, tilting your head slightly to give him better access.
“i only discovered it today”, you say, “han’s fault”
he hums, amused, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “of course it is”
you turn in his arms then, until you’re facing him. his hands stay on your waist, his thumbs brushing lightly as he looks down at you. there’s warmth there, but also something darker underneath.
“also”, you add lightly, tracing your finger down his chest, quickly looking down to see his cock hard and ready, “hyunjin already fucked me on top of furniture earlier. so unless you’re planning on copying someone, i’d suggest you get creative, my leader”
for half a second, he just stares at you and then, his mouth is on yours. the kiss is hungry but controlled, deep without being rushed. his hands tighten on your waist as he pulls you closer, and you melt into him, your fingers curling into his shoulders as the kiss deepens.
when he pulls back, just enough to breathe, his forehead rests against yours before he speaks.
“trust me”, he says, his lips brushing yours once more, “i’m not copying anyone tonight”
and the look in his eyes tells you exactly how serious he is.
before you can respond, chan’s mouth claims yours again. the kiss is intoxicating, his lips pressing firm against yours, his tongue slipping past your teeth to tangle with yours. you feel the warmth of his breath mingling with yours as your hands move to his chest, your fingers tracing the defined lines of his muscles. he groans into the kiss, and his arms tighten around your waist, pulling your naked body flush against his, making his erection press against your stomach, hard and insistent.
suddenly, his hand wraps around yours, and he tugs you back into the bedroom. you barely register what he’s doing as he guides you across the short distance to the nearest wall. your back meets the smooth surface with a soft thud, his body crowding in immediately, pinning you there without trapping you. his presence is dominant yet attentive, like he’s savoring every second of your surrender.
“has anyone fucked you so hard you couldn’t stand on your feet anymore?”, he asks you, his voice low and rough, the words laced with a challenge that sends a thrill straight to your core.
you gulp and shake your head, your breath catching at the raw edge in his tone, your cunt clenching in anticipation. no one has pushed you that far yet, not tonight, not ever, and the admission makes heat flood your cheeks.
“good”, he says, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips, “then that one will be me”
he kisses you again, hungrier this time, devouring your mouth with a fervor that leaves no room for teasing. his tongue thrusts deep, while one hand fists in your hair, tilting your head back to deepen the angle. the pull is just right, a sting that makes you gasp into him, and his other hand grips your waist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh there as he grinds his hips forward.
his cock slides against your stomach, hot and thick, the friction drawing a low grunt from his throat that rumbles against your lips. you moan in response, the sound muffled by his mouth, your body arching instinctively to press closer, your thighs parting slightly as you feel the slickness building between your legs again.
he breaks the kiss only to trail his lips along your jaw, nipping lightly before capturing your mouth once more, the rhythm of his grinding hips relentless. each roll presses him harder against you, his length trapped between your bodies, and you feel his precum smearing across your skin.
your hands roam his back, your nails scraping down his muscles, urging him on as grunts escape him with every thrust. you match him, moaning louder, the wall cool against your spine while his heat envelops you, the contrast heightening every sensation until you’re both lost in the grind.
chan’s control is ironclad, though. he kisses down your neck, sucking a fresh mark just below your collarbone before dropping lower. his mouth maps your body with purpose, his lips brushing the swell of your breasts, his tongue flicking over a nipple that’s already hard from the cool air and his attention.
you whimper as he sucks hard enough to make your knees weaken, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak before soothing it with his tongue. he doesn’t linger long on one side, moving to the other with the same intensity, his hands steadying your hips to keep you upright against the wall.
his kisses continue down your stomach, until he gets to the curve of your hips. he nips at the skin there, right over one of the fading marks from earlier, and you feel the possessive edge in the bite, claiming you again.
finally, he sinks to his knees in front of you, the movement fluid and unhurried, his broad shoulders parting your thighs as he settles between them. his eyes lock on yours, looking up at you from this angle, his eyes dark with hunger.
“i have to do something again”, he says, his voice husky, as his hands slide up your legs, his thumbs tracing your inner thighs until they reach your core.
you barely have time to process before his mouth is on you, his lips sealing over your clit in a hot, wet kiss that makes your head fall back against the wall. he licks a slow, broad stripe up your folds, tasting the remnants of your earlier releases mixed with fresh arousal, and he groans deeply.
“fuck”, he moans against you, the vibration sending sparks through your body.
his tongue delves deeper, parting your lips to lap at your entrance, circling with deliberate pressure that has your hips bucking forward.
“f-fuck chris!”, you scream his name, the sound echoing off the walls, raw and desperate.
he doesn’t stop, instead, he adds his fingers, two sliding inside you with ease thanks to how soaked you are. they curl immediately, hooking against that spot that makes you scream louder, pumping in time with the flicks of his tongue on your clit.
“please, chris, more, d-don't stop, fuck, i need it”, you beg him, your voice breaking on gasps, your hands fisting in his hair to hold him there.
he hums against you, and looks up, his eyes locked on your face as he works you over. you can see the slickness coating his face, feel it dripping down his jaw from how messily he’s devouring you, your arousal leaking freely as your thighs tremble around his head.
“i couldn’t stop thinking about your taste since i had you”, he growls between licks, pulling back just enough to speak, his fingers still thrusting deep and steady, “when you sat on my face… fuck, one time was not enough. you’re so sweet, so wet for me, dripping like this. i could do this all day”
his words make you clench around his fingers, and he dives back in, sucking your clit hard while moving his fingers inside you.
“chris! oh god, yes, right there please!”
the build is relentless, your body coiling tighter with every thrust of his fingers, every swirl of his tongue. you feel the edge closer, your moans turning to pleas as you grind against his face. but just as the orgasm almost hits you, he stops. his mouth lifts, his fingers slipping free with a wet sound, leaving you hanging, throbbing and empty, a whine tearing from your throat in protest.
you stare down at him, your chest heaving, the denial hitting you like a wave crashing and pulling back just as it peaks. your tears prick at the corners of your eyes, frustration and need blurring your vision. you’re so tired and overstimulated that this denial feels like torture.
“chris, please- don’t stop, i was so close, fuck, i need you”, your voice cracks, your thighs quivering from the edge he left you on, your cunt clenching around nothing, aching for release.
he stands up slowly, his lips glistening with your wetness, his chin slick and shiny. his eyes never leave yours, dark and unyielding, making your heart stutter. as he stands fully, towering close, he cups your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that spill over.
“shh, baby”, he says, his voice soft but firm, leaning in to press his lips to yours in a soothing kiss.
the taste of yourself lingers on his tongue as it slips into your mouth, swallowing your pleas. he pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, “you’re doing so good for me, such a perfect girl, taking everything i give you”
his words ease the whine in your throat even as your body screams for more. he kisses you again, one hand sliding down to grip your hip while the other tangles in your hair, holding you steady. you melt into it, moaning softly as his praise sinks in, making you feel cherished even in the torment.
“good girl”, he says between kisses, nipping your lower lip, “so patient, so wet and ready. you’re everything i want”
the ache between your legs pulses harder at his voice, but he doesn’t rush. his hard cock brushes against your thigh, thick and throbbing, the tip leaking as it nudges your skin. you reach for him, but he catches your wrist, guiding your hand away with a shake of his head.
“remember what i told you”, he says, his voice dropping, sending shivers down your spine, “i’m gonna fuck you hard, make you forget how to stand”
before you can even react, he lines the head of his cock against your entrance, slick and open. he sinks inside you, stretching your walls until he’s buried to the hilt. you cry out, the fullness overwhelming after his teasing, your nails digging into his shoulders as your body adjusts to him. he groans low in his chest, his hips stilling for a moment to let you feel him - hot, pulsing, hard, filling every space.
then he starts moving, pulling back almost all the way before slamming forward, the force pinning you harder against the wall. your feet shift on the floor, your toes curling as he sets a brutal pace, each thrust deep and deliberate, his cock dragging against your inner walls.
“fuck, you feel so good”, he says, his mouth crashing back to yours in a messy kiss.
you kiss him back fiercely, while his hand slides up to cup your breast, his thumb rolling your nipple. moans spill from your lips into his mouth, turning to screams as he angles his hips, hitting that spot inside you with every thrust.
“chris- oh god, yes”, you moan, breaking the kiss to nip at his jaw, then his neck, sucking a mark into the skin just below his ear.
he retaliates, his teeth grazing your throat, biting down enough to leave a fresh bruise. the pain mixes with pleasure, heightening everything as he fucks you relentlessly, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing in the room.
your legs tremble, threatening to give out, but he holds you up with ease, one arm around your waist, the other braced against the wall beside your head now. grunts rumble from him with each thrust, matching your cries.
“you take me so well, baby, squeezing me like that”
the words push you higher, the build starting again but fiercer this time. as your orgasm gets closer, your breaths coming in pants, your legs wobbling under you, he shifts, his hands dropping to grip your thighs, lifting one leg first, then the other, wrapping them around his waist. you lock your ankles behind him, the new angle letting him sink even deeper, his cock bottoming out with every snap of his hips.
“fuck, c-chris, harder, please!”, you beg him, your head thrown back against the wall, your nails raking down his back as he picks up speed, pounding into you faster, the friction on your clit from his pelvis grinding against you with each thrust.
“that’s it, beg for me”, he says, his voice strained, his lips brushing your neck, “such a good girl, so tight and desperate. gonna make you come so hard”
“yes, chris, don't stop… f-fuck me!”, your voice breaking on sobs of pleasure.
your orgasm looms closer, your walls clenching around his length, but just as it teeters on the brink, he stops again. buried deep, he stills completely, his hips flush against yours, and you groan in frustration, your tears falling again now.
“no- chris, not again, please, i can’t- i need to come, fuck, don’t do this!”, you say, grinding desperately against him, but he doesn’t budge, his cock twitching inside you but not moving.
“shh, baby, i’ve got you”, he soothes you, capturing your lips in a tender kiss that contrasts his denial, his tongue gentle as he hushes your whimpers.
one hand strokes your hair, the other supporting your weight as he begins to walk towards the bed, still inside you, every shift sending sparks through your oversensitive nerves. you cling to him, your legs tight around his waist, moaning into his mouth at the friction of him moving within you without thrusting.
he reaches the bed, lowering you both down without pulling out, your back hitting the soft sheets as he settles between your thighs. the mattress dips under his weight, and as soon as you’re lying down, he starts again, thrusting deep and hard, the pace even more punishing now.
“i’m gonna make you come now”, he growls, propping himself on one elbow while his other hand slips between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and circling it firmly.
his cock slamming into you, hitting that spot inside, and his thumb pressing your swollen clit shatter the last of your control. you scream his name, your body arching off the bed as waves crash over you, your cunt spasming around him in violent pulses.
“chris o-oh fuck”
the orgasm rips through you, intense and unrelenting, and he doesn’t stop, fucking you through it, his fingers rubbing faster on your clit until you squirt, hot liquid gushing between you, soaking his hand and the sheets beneath. he groans loudly, the sight and feel pushing him over the edge, his thrusts erratic as he comes with you, his cock pulsing as he fills you with thick spurts of cum.
“fuck… take it all, baby, that’s it”, he grunts, burying his face in your neck, marking you with a final bite as your shared release leaves you both trembling, screaming into each other’s skin.
he collapses over you with a low, shaky breath, his weight warm and grounding as the moment finally breaks. the only sound in the room is the sound of both of you trying to catch your breath. his forehead drops to your shoulder, his chest rising and falling against yours.
“hey”, he says after a second, lifting his head just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing your cheek, gentle now, “you good?”
you nod, still a little dazed, your eyes soft as you look back at him.
“yeah”, you breathe, “i’m good, chris, don’t worry”
he lets out a small, fond laugh, pressing a slow kiss to your lips, then another to your temple.
“you did amazing”, he says quietly, “not just with me. all of it. but i need to make sure you’re really okay”
the care in his voice makes your chest tighten. you reach up, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him down for another kiss. eventually, he shifts, careful as he slips out of you, his cum trickling down your thigh, and you feel just how sensitive you are when the air hits your skin. you hiss softly, and he freezes immediately.
“sorry”, he says, already moving again, “stay there”
he disappears for a moment and comes back with a towel, his movements slow and attentive as he helps you clean up. you flinch once or twice despite yourself, and each time he pauses, murmuring apologies, pressing light kisses to your knee, your stomach, anywhere he can reach.
“all done”, he says softly when he finishes, brushing his thumb over your hip, “it’s over now”
you don’t answer, you just look at him, your eyes tired and a little glassy, and pull him down for another kiss. he smiles into it, kissing you back just as gently. you try to shift, to sit up, and immediately sink back into the mattress with a laugh.
“wow”, you say, “okay, yeah, not happening”
he laughs too, straightening as he pulls on his boxers.
“i warned you”, he says, amused, “you weren’t going to be walking right away”
he leans down once more, brushing your hair back from your face, his thumb tracing your jaw.
“we’ll be outside”, he tells you, “no rush, take your time. just come when you’re ready, okay?”
you hum softly in response, your eyes drifting closed for a moment. he gives you one last look and then heads for the door. it closes quietly behind him, leaving you alone again, stretched out on the bed, your body spent, staring at the ceiling, letting it all wash over you.
all of it.
every voice, every touch, every orgasm. the realisation settles in, almost unreal at first. you’ve had sex with all of them. every single one. the weight of that thought makes your chest feel hot and tight at the same time.
your body is exhausted. deliciously, bone-deep tired. your muscles ache in an extremely overstimulated way, your skin feels too sensitive for fabric, for air. and yet, underneath the fatigue, there’s something else still burning - a low, persistent pull that refuses to fade.
a craving.
this wasn’t supposed to go this far.
this started as curiosity, a joke that lingered in the air. then than first time, the boundaries blurred, shifted. and then one thing led to another, and suddenly here you are, having crossed every line you once thought was solid.
and now that you’ve stepped over it… you don’t want to step back.
you push yourself up slowly, pausing when your legs can’t even carry your own body. it takes a moment before you can fully stand, one hand braced against the bed as you steady yourself. when you finally move, it’s careful, step by step, your legs wobbling a bit.
you pull on a t-shirt and slip into your panties without much thought. modesty feels pointless now, they’ve seen every part of you, touched every inch. there’s nothing left to hide, and there’s nothing you want to hide.
you stop in front of the mirror one last time before leaving your room and you barely recognise yourself, not because you look different, but because of the way you’re standing. the way your eyes hold something new, confident, aware, hungry.
you step out into the hallway, the air cooler, the house quiet, except for the low voices in the living room. with every step towards the living room, that feeling grows stronger, a pull you don’t fight. you don’t want to stop this, you don’t want today to be the end of whatever this has become.
when you enter the living room, they’re all there.
spread out, relaxed but alert. familiar silhouettes, familiar faces, watching you the second you appear. the room is thick with the aftermath of what they’ve done, heard, felt, imagined while waiting. you see their faces. you see their bodies. their boxers can’t lie.
their eyes track you openly and in that instant, you see it. the same thing that’s been sitting heavy in your chest all along. they feel it too.
you stop in the middle of the room, your heart thudding, the silence stretching just long enough to make it unbearable. and then you speak, your voice steady despite everything buzzing beneath your skin.
“i don’t want to end this here”
and the way they look at you - open, wanting, dark eyes gleaming with hunger - tells you everything you need to know.
maybe you don’t have to stop.
wheel series | event masterlist | the library
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Giving: Tongue flat, deep licks, moans into you. He lives to please. Will spend 30 minutes between your legs with no complaints. Loves it sloppy. Holds your thighs open and says “come on, give it to me.” Doesn’t stop until you’re shaking. He’s a perfectionist and a giver. Tongue game strong, stamina unmatched, and he’s obsessed with reactions. He eats you out like he’s starving, fingers you at the same time, and keeps going after you cum, multiple times. Eye contact? Check. Praise? Constant. “How many times can you cum just from this?”
Receiving: Leans back, one hand on your head, other gripping the edge of the seat. Constant praise. “Just like that, baby,” and “You’re doing so well.” Loves watching you work for it. Moans low and steady, hips roll, not thrust. But if you look up at him with spit all over your mouth? He’s cumming in 10 seconds. Then tells you how proud he is.
Lee Know
Giving: He starts slow just to tease. Light licks, smirks, no pressure. But when he decides it’s time? He locks in, pins your hips, and makes a mess. Licks everywhere but where you need until you're begging. He gets off on making you desperate. Loves edging with his mouth, smirking when your hips twitch. Will pin you down just to make you take it. Clean, slow, devastatingly good. Smug and skilled. “You thought I was done?”
Receiving: Sits back with a smirk, spreads his legs, says “Go on then.” Will hold eye contact while you choke and not even blink. Into face fucking. Hands in your hair, hips moving, loves watching drool drip. Might say “Look at the mess you’re making” and make you keep going after he finishes.
Changbin
Giving: Loud, sloppy, loves hearing how wrecked he makes you. He’ll eat like a man starved, gripping your thighs, moaning into it. Goes in like it’s a workout. Big hands spreading you wide, face buried like he belongs there. You cum once? He says “again.” You cum twice? “Keep going.” Lives to make you cum. Obsessed with taste, obsessed with reactions. Uses tongue and fingers together like a pro, doesn’t stop till your legs close around his head.
Receiving: Can’t stay still. Grips your shoulders, moans openly, hips jerk forward. Gives you constant encouragement, begs a little “F-fuck, don’t stop,” while twitching in your mouth. Comes hard, probably with a deep groan and a broken whimper at the end.
Hyunjin
Giving: It’s not just oral, it’s performance. Eye contact, slow licks, long teasing, whispering praise. He’ll take his time, build you up, drag it out. Will absolutely finish you with just his tongue if he feels like it. Looks up at you with those big eyes, licks like he’s tasting wine. Loves sucking on your clit slowly, playing with his fingers inside. Might be a little too focused on the build up, but when you snap? Heaven. “Shhh... I’m not done with you yet.”
Receiving: Tries to stay composed, head tilted back, breathing heavy until you go deep. Then it’s over. Runs fingers through your hair gently... until he grabs a fistful. Moans high, face flushed, thighs trembling. Might whisper “fuck, you’re too good at this” in that breathy voice.
Han
Giving: Messy, sloppy, noisy. Tongue everywhere, spit everywhere. Gives head like he needs it. Moans loud, slurps loud, doesn’t care if it’s pretty. Face dripping, tongue deep, will fuck you with it until your legs cramp. Then keep going for the aftershocks. He’s nasty with it. Loves spitting, tongue fucking, sucking your clit until you scream. Gets off on making you lose control. Probably jerks off while eating you out. Smiles when you beg him to stop then goes harder. “Cum on my tongue. Now.”
Receiving: Whining, bucking into your mouth, saying your name over and over. Tugs your hair, talks nonstop “Shit, yes, fuck yes, keep going,” moaning like a pornstar. Definitely cums hard and messy, maybe even holds your head down at the end by accident.
Felix
Giving: Sweet tone, nasty mind. Starts soft, builds heat, and then completely surprises you. Deep licks, breathy moans, tongue flat and slow. Loves making you feel safe then breaking you open with intensity you didn’t see coming. Tongue is silky, kisses like a lover, and eats you out like you’re sacred. Loves making eye contact, holding your thighs gently. Will ask, “Do you like this?” then hum against your clit. Killer bass moans = free vibrations. “Can I keep going? You’re shaking so much…”
Receiving: Blushes while asking for it, but once your mouth is on him? Instant switch. Hand over his mouth, eyes wide, breath hitching. Groans deep in his chest, thighs clench, begs for more. Finishes with a whimper and then hugs you like you just saved his life.
Seungmin
Giving: Acts composed, but eats with intent. Only gives when he wants to but when he does, you’re crying. Uses his tongue just right, fingers perfectly synced, and edge control so good it’s frustrating. Smirks at your begging. Controlled, precise, and fucking ruthless. Quietly obsessed with reactions. Watches you squirm and targets what works. Once he locks in? You’re done. Might hold you still and say “Don’t run” while tonguing you through the edge. “Is that all it takes to ruin you?”
Receiving: Sits back, watches you like prey, barely reacts... at first. “Deeper.” That’s all he says. Forces your head down slowly. Smirks when you gag. Might finish on your tongue and tell you to swallow without blinking. Zero praise. Just dominance.
I.N
Giving: Curious and committed. Might start unsure but once he learns what makes you scream, he’s addicted. Uses everything. Fingers, tongue, lips, even teeth lightly. Gets turned on by how much you fall apart under him. Tongue everywhere, fingers deep, and desperate to hear you scream. Might get sloppy but means every second of it. Might overstimulate you on accident but loves watching you fall apart because of him. “Tell me what you like… so I can do it better.”
Receiving: Face red, hand over his mouth, thighs twitching. Tries to be quiet. Fails. Gasps, whimpers, probably covers his face while moaning. You go deeper, he cries out. Might cum fast and apologize, but secretly wants you to keep going.
