you know yeonjun is confident and likes to take the lead so he is definitely a dom who loves leaving visual proof that you belong to him and only him.
he’s playful with it tho!! so first it starts out as him teasingly nipping at your neck but by the time he’s balls deep in you, he’s biting down hard enough to leave deep purple bruises on your collarbones and thighs.
ANDDD he’s got a heavy fucking hand..(🤤) he’ll slap your ass until it’s red and leave massive handprints on your hips from gripping you so tight as he rails you good. but!!! because he’s caring he is the king of aftercare.
he’ll choke you out and slap you around but the second you cum, he immediately melts, he’s kissing all your bruises and making sure he didn't actually hurt you.
CHOI SOOBIN
soobin is your very gentle giant. :(( he’s the guy you can always depend on but.. in bed? he is a total fucking sponge for pain. he puts your needs and comfort first, meaning if you want to claw his back to bloody ribbons while you ride him, he’ll sit there, grit his teeth, groan, and let you tear him apart.
he’s also tthe type to take a hard slap across the face and just look up at you with that stupid blown out look you love, totally unfazed and still hard as a rock. he doesn’t dish out the brutality he embodies it. you could leave his chest and neck looking like a literal crime scene and he’d just wear a button down the next day with a quiet little smile like you didn’t just tear him apart the night before..
CHOI BEOMGYU
beomgyu is just pure fucking chaos, which means sex with him is a always a goshdamn wrestling match. hes so energetic and mischievous and such a bratty switch who provokes the hell outta you.
he’ll bite your lip until it bleeds just to get yoir reaction, or yank your hair hard as fuck while your sucking him off. he only does that to see the look you give him when you gaze up, eyes all doeing and glossy.. gosh he loves it and can cum at the sight of it.
if he’s bottoming he needs to be manhandled to behave. you literally have to pin this little shit down, choke him, and slap him to wipe that teasing smirk off his face. he gets off on the adrenaline of a fight scratching, biting, wrestling for dominance until you finally break him and make him a whining, submissive mess.
KANG TAEHYUN
Ok taehyun is terrifying but in the best way possible. he would be the type of person who knows the human anatomy perfectly. he knows exactly where to press on your throat to make you lightheaded without actually hurting your windpipe.
he doesn't leave messy, chaotic marks everywhere like beomgyu he leaves perfectly symmetrical bite marks (he wants to make it look pretty). he’s the type to use belts, or ice, closely watching your reactions to see exactly how much pain it takes to make your brain short circuit.
taehyun will definitely tie you down, edge you for an hour, and leave you begging and crying while he just watches with that smug look on his face.
HUENINGKAI
kai is the classic "golden retriever with a dark side. " type. he’s so bright and optimistic normally but when he gets horny, he gets overexcited and loses total control of his strength. of course Kai doesn't mean to be brutal he just gets sooo lost in the sauce that he grips your thighs tight enough to leave ten deep finger bruises.
he’ll suck bruises into your neck because he’s just so fucking enthusiastic about tasting you. the next morning he’ll see you covered in hickeys, bite marks, and bruises, and he’ll blush and apologize profusely but secretly his cock will twitch because he loves seeing you wrecked by him.
: it was late at night, where you weren’t here since you had to go to a trip for your work. huening kai missed your touch so much since he hasn’t seen or touched you in so long.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌huening kai was laying on his bed, watching his videos with you and him laughing together cause of how much he missed you.
until he came across this one video of you, showing him your new lingerie, and oh how wet his mouth got.
huening kai is the type of person to get so flustered by something so simple. he was always so whiny whenever you would touch him or kiss him. he missed that feeling a lot.
without him even thinking, his hand started to slowly go down to his pants. he was painfully hard from only seeing you on the screen.
he started palming his hard, clothed dick, letting out shaky and desperate whimpers, “uhh..” kai sighs, not feeling as good as when you would touch him.
suddenly, he puts his phone down next to him and sits up, positioning the pillow, your pillow, in front of him as he slowly pulls his pants down along with his boxers that are already wet from his leaking tip.
he was definitely not expecting himself to end up like that, but that video of yours has always been huening kai’s favourite video of yours.
kai puts his hands on each side of the pillow, holding it still and steady in place as he approaches it deliberately, his dick already chasing it.
he started to slowly grind his hips against the pillow, throwing his back and letting dirty moans out of his filthy mouth, “f-fuck..n-nngh..!” kai moaned, the feeling was too much for him to handle.
he started humping the pillow rapidly, and his moans became louder and louder each time he felt himself getting closer to cumming on your pillow.
“y-yes..’m close! ‘m-cumming..im—f-fuck!” huening kai dropped his head on the pillow as he grinded faster on the pillow, his hold on it becoming looser now that he’s breaking.
“ah..—ah..yes. yes, f-fuck—yes..” his pretty cries filled the room along with the sheet sounds and the humping sound, “im—fuck..’m cumming..!” kai was moving faster now that he felt himself getting closer.
before he even knew it, he was already cumming all over the grey pillow, staining it with his white, thick ropes of cum, “shit..the pillow. it’s stained.” he stared at it, satisfied that he came but still nervous about the stain on the pillow.
though, he was sure you’d like to see and know what he was doing. he grabbed his phone from next to him, took a photo and sent it to you with a text that said : “missed you a lot and accidentally stained your pillow. forgive me, it smelled like you ૮(◞ ‸ ◟ )ა”
contents: txt x reader, smut, oral, fingering, f!reader, porn without plot, headcanons
masterlist
Yeonjun (more)
Standard. Likes you on your back holding onto your hips gently, drinking you in like a starved man. Will wrap his arms around your hips if you try to scoot away, you aren't done until he says so.
Soobin
He definitely wants you to sit on his face, no hovering allowed. Will beg to taste you already lying back on the bed so you can at least sit comfortably. He has definitely finished untouched from eating you out before also.
Beomgyu
I feel like he's pretty open but my brain goes instantly to him on his knees licking up at you while you stand above him gripping his hair leading him in. Will whimper into your cunt while he eats you out jerking himself off in the process.
Taehyun
I also believe Taehyun prefers you on your back. Wrapping your legs around his head, tongue prodding at your entrance while he toys with your clit with his fingers.
Kai
Hear me out… From the back… he loves bending you over, sucking on your clit while his nose presses against your entrance. Smacking your ass softly if you try to pull away.
A/n: I got bored I won't lie….. So I wrote this instead of my wips. Maybe I will make longer one-shots of this if people like any of these!
Soobin is a pathetic mess for you, and honestly? You love it. He’s late, he’s crying, and he’s begging for your forgiveness for things that aren't even his fault. But in this house, the only way to get you to look at him is by being your favorite toy.
ⓘ Cw!! smut, toxic behavior, angst, objectification, crying, degradation/humiliation, submissive soobin, cunnilingus, edging, body worship, p in v, power imbalance, nipple play, cum eating, solo play, fingering, hair pulling.
Wc: 2,8k
A/N: I’m not going to lie, I feel bad for Soobin after writing this 😭 but the dynamic was just too tempting.
Soobin closed the apartment door with practiced care, the click of the lock almost silent, but you already knew he was there. He was late. Only twenty minutes—hardly a crime for most—but you had been simmering in a dark mood all day, and tonight, even the sound of his breathing felt like an invitation to lash out.
“I’m so sorry,” he breathed out the moment he stepped inside. He kicked off his shoes and dropped his backpack, the thud echoing in the quiet room. “The boss caught me at the door with a last-minute document, and I… I lost track of time. I brought dinner, though. From that place you love? The spicy noodles.”
He hurried to set the bag on the table, his movements frantic and eager. You didn’t even offer him a glance. You stayed curled on the couch, thumbing through your phone and pointedly turning up the volume on your video.
Soobin stood frozen for a beat. He looked so tall yet so incredibly awkward in his damp, oversized hoodie, his hair slightly plastered to his forehead from the drizzle outside. That handsome, soft face of his—all big, puppy-dog eyes and plush lips—seemed to crumble the second he registered your icy silence.
“Babe… are you upset?”
No answer. He crossed the room, his footsteps heavy with anxiety, and knelt beside the couch. He lowered himself until he was at eye level, tentatively resting one of his large, warm hands on your knee. It trembled slightly.
“It was just a document, I swear. I left the second I could. Look, I can heat the noodles up right now, and maybe we could—”
“Forget it, Soobin,” you cut him off, your voice flat and sharp. You didn’t bother looking away from your screen. “It’s always ‘just’ something with you. You’re nothing but a walking excuse.”
He flinched as if you’d slapped him. He blinked rapidly, his voice cracking on the next word.
“It’s not an excuse, it’s the truth… but if I upset you, I’m sorry. Please. Just tell me what you want. I can go back out and get dessert, or I’ll scrub the kitchen again, or—”
You finally turned your head, meeting his frantic gaze with eyes like chips of ice.
“You know what? You look so pathetic when you beg like that. It’s embarrassing. Just shut up already.”
The silence that followed was heavy. Soobin’s mouth snapped shut, but his eyes flooded with tears almost instantly. He tried to fight them, biting his lower lip so hard it turned white, but two heavy droplets escaped anyway, tracking down his flushed cheeks. He wiped them away quickly with his sleeve, a hitched, embarrassed breath escaping him. He looked like a giant, broken child—a man with broad shoulders and a sharp jawline who could have been intimidating if he had an ounce of self-respect, yet here he was, weeping on the floor because you’d been mean to him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice a jagged wreck. “I didn’t mean to ruin your night. I’m such a fucking idiot.”
He scrambled to his feet and retreated to the kitchen. You heard the frantic sounds of him trying to fix things—opening drawers, plating the food with trembling hands, even the rhythmic *thump-thump* of him slicing cucumbers because he remembered exactly how you liked them. He brought the tray over and set it on the coffee table with a neatly folded napkin and a glass of ice water.
You didn't touch a single bite. Soobin sank into the armchair across from you, watching you with the heartbreaking devotion of a stray dog waiting for a scrap of attention. Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. You kept your eyes on your phone, ignoring his existence entirely. He began to shift, his breathing becoming shallow and ragged with anxiety.
“Do you want me to run you a bath?” he choked out. “I can use the lavender salts… warm the towels? Or… or I can massage your feet? I know they’re sore.”
Nothing.
He stood up again, cleared the untouched plate, and washed it by hand. He wiped the counters until they shone, took out the trash, and meticulously lined up your shoes by the door. Finally, he came back and stood in front of you, his large hands hanging uselessly at his sides, his chest heaving.
“Please… please just say something. Anything. Yell at me if you have to. I can’t—I can’t breathe when you ignore me like this.”
You remained a statue. Soobin swallowed hard, the desperation in his eyes turning into something darker, something carnal. He knew the only currency he had left to buy your forgiveness was his own body.
He knelt between your legs again, his palms sliding carefully onto your thighs, his touch a silent prayer for permission.
“Let me make it up to you,” he murmured, his voice now low and roughened by the remnants of his crying. “Please. I just want to make you feel good. Let me do this for you.”
You didn’t say a word, but you didn't push him away. For a boy like Soobin, that was as good as a "yes."
He slowly worked his hands under your shorts, his touch a dizzying mix of reverence and frantic need. He stripped you with shaking fingers, pausing to press soft, lingering kisses to the sensitive skin of your inner knees. Once you were bare, he just stayed there for a moment, staring at your pussy—already beginning to glisten—as if it were the only holy thing left in his world.
“So beautiful…” he whispered, a fresh tear catching on his lash.
He lowered his head and dragged his tongue in a slow, flat stroke from the very bottom to the top, lapping up your nectar with a low, vibrating groan. He started slow, almost worshipful, licking the outer lips and sucking gently on the sensitive skin. Then, he used his thumbs to spread you wide, burying his tongue inside you with lazy, rhythmic sweeps while his nose rubbed circles against your clit.
“Mmm… I’m so sorry I was late,” he mumbled against your wetness, his voice muffled and thick with heat. “I’m going to make it up to you… I want you to come all over my tongue until you’re shaking.”
You brought your hand down, tangling your fingers in his soft hair and pulling hard to set the pace. Soobin moaned against you, obeying instantly. He increased the pressure, his tongue brushing against your clit with frantic precision while sliding two long, thick fingers deep inside you. He began to fuck you slowly, his knuckles grazing your opening while his mouth worked to worship every inch of you.
“Fuck… you’re so wet,” he rasped, the words vibrating against your sensitive flesh without him pulling away. “I love the way you taste… I could stay here all night.”
You yanked his hair, forcing his head back just enough to see his desperate eyes.
“Shut up and eat me properly. You’re not down there to talk.”
Soobin shivered, a small, broken sound escaping his throat, but he didn't dare argue. He buried his face against you again, his tongue lashing out faster, his fingers diving deeper into your heat. The sounds filling the room were filthy—the wet slap of his tongue, the rhythmic slide of his fingers, and his muffled, needy moans pressed into your soaked skin. You began to roll your hips against his mouth, using his face as a toy. He let out a louder groan, clearly electrified by the fact that you were finally using him.
As he felt your muscles start to twitch, he sucked on your clit with a bruising pressure, his fingers relentless inside you. You came hard, your thighs clamping around his head like a vice. You tugged at his hair, a long, ragged moan leaving your lips. Soobin didn’t pull back for a second; he kept licking gently, savoring every drop of your release, dragging out the peak until your legs were nothing but jelly.
He lifted his face just enough to catch his breath, his lips and chin glistening with the evidence of your orgasm.
“Did you like that? Do you want me to do more? I’ll do anything, baby… just tell me—”
You didn’t let him finish the sentence. You grabbed a fistful of his hair and shoved his face back into your crotch.
“Who told you that you could talk? You’re so fucking useless… you can’t even eat pussy without begging like a dog. Keep going.”
Soobin’s body tensed. His eyes welled up again—not with anger, but with a crushing sense of guilt. He truly believed you; he thought he was failing you, that he wasn't even good enough at this one simple task. He whispered a pathetic, almost silent “sorry” against your skin and went back to work.
This time, he was frantic. He licked broader, messier, dragging his tongue down to circle your other hole, sucking lightly while his fingers continued to fuck your dripping entrance. He moaned softly into you, completely lost in the worship of your body.
You moaned louder, pressing his head into you until you were practically fucking his face. Soobin was rock hard, his cock throbbing painfully against the denim of his jeans, but he didn't even dream of touching himself. To him, nothing existed but your pleasure.
“Faster,” you commanded, your voice cutting through his haze.
He obeyed instantly. His tongue and fingers worked with a desperate intensity. You came again, even more violently this time, soaking his mouth and chin as you cried out. Soobin didn’t stop until your trembling ceased. Then, he slowly began to kiss his way up your body with a devotion that felt almost sickening.
He worshipped your stomach, your ribs, the dip between your breasts. He took one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before sucking hard, his large hand kneading the other breast. Finally, he reached your neck, burying his face there, licking and nipping at the skin.
“I love you so much…” he whimpered, his voice cracked and fragile. “You’re the most beautiful thing I have. I’d do anything for you. Even if you hate me, even if you scream… I’m just happy I can touch you.”
You didn't answer with words. You just ran your nails down his broad back, scratching lightly through his hoodie. When he bit your neck a little harder, you let out a low, dark moan. Soobin shuddered. His erection was trapped between your bodies, leaking and painful, but he didn't complain. He only tilted his hips slightly, seeking a ghost of friction against your thigh without daring to ask for more.
“Tell me if you want me to fuck you… or if you’d rather I keep going with my mouth,” he murmured against your ear. “I’ll get back on my knees. I’ll stay here until you're tired of me.”
You smiled, a cruel, satisfied curve of your lips. You grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look at you.
“You’re pathetic, Soobin. Look at you… so hard it hurts, and you still don’t have the balls to ask for it.”
His face flushed a deep, shamed red, but his eyes shone with a mix of agony and arousal.
“I know… I’m pathetic. It’s because I love you. I just want to make you feel good. If you don’t want to touch me, that’s fine. Just let me keep going.”
You watched him, your breath still heavy. Soobin remained kneeling between your legs—hair a mess, face flushed, lips shiny and wet. He slowly pushed his pants down to his thighs. His cock sprang free, twitching against his stomach, a thin string of precum clinging to the skin.
You stared at it for a moment before saying, almost annoyed:
“Then fuck me. But do it my way. Don’t you dare go slow.”
Soobin nodded, his eyes wide. He straightened up, his large hands gripping your hips to pull you to the edge of the couch. He pushed inside you in one deep, unceremonious thrust, a long, guttural groan breaking from his chest. He stayed still for a second, eyes squeezed shut, trying desperately to keep his composure.
“Fuck…” he choked out.
He started to move. At first, he was still too careful, too gentle. You dug your nails into his bicep.
“Harder. Don’t make me say it again.”
The rhythm changed instantly. His thrusts became rough, borderline frantic, the sound of skin-on-skin slapping through the quiet apartment. Soobin was big and powerful, and when he stopped holding back, it showed. Every stroke was deep, hitting your cervix with a force that made you gasp. He moaned with every lunge—those raw, slightly high-pitched sounds he always made, as if the pleasure was a punishment he was grateful for.
“Like this? Is this good?” he panted through gritted teeth.
“Shut up,” you snapped, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him even deeper. “Just fuck me.”
He clenched his jaw and obeyed. The couch groaned under his weight. Sweat dripped from his chin, his hair sticking to his forehead in messy clumps. Every time your walls tightened around him, he let out a strangled cry. You could see the struggle in his trembling arms, but he was so loud. So beautifully, painfully noisy.
You grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you.
“Don’t you dare cum yet.”
“I won’t… I won’t,” he panted, his eyes glassy. “I want you to go first. Please.”
You scratched his back, and he buried his face in your shoulder with a whimper. His hips never faltered, slamming into that perfect spot until you came hard around him, squeezing his thick length. Your nails drew blood on his shoulders as you peaked.
Soobin tensed, his entire body vibrating as he fought his own release.
“God… you feel so fucking good,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath.
The second your trembling stopped, you shoved his chest.
“Pull out.”
He hesitated for a fraction of a second, a flicker of pure frustration crossing his face, but he obeyed. He slid out with a low, pained groan. His cock was red and glistening, throbbing in the air. He stayed on his knees before you, chest heaving, looking at you with that familiar, desperate need.
“What… what do you want me to do?” he asked, his voice a hoarse wreck.
You watched him, enjoying the way his cock twitched rhythmically on its own.
“Finish yourself off. With your hand. Right here where I can watch.”
Soobin’s face burned, but he didn't hesitate. He sat back on his heels and wrapped his large hand around himself. He started to stroke, slow at first, almost shyly, never breaking eye contact. His breathing grew ragged.
“Sorry for coming home late…” he murmured, the words sounding like a prayer. “I know I mess everything up. I just want you to love me again.”
He sped up. His hips began to buck into his fist, desperate and messy. He looked so huge and yet so small kneeling there—that strong, athletic body shaking as he chased a release he didn't even feel he deserved.
“I’m close…” he whimpered, his voice breaking. “Can I…?”
“Not yet.”
He let out a sound that was half-moan, half-sob, but he kept going. His hand moved faster, the sound of it loud and wet. Tears were pricking his eyes again.
“Please… it hurts,” he whined, his head tossing back. “Just let me… I want to be good for you.”
You let him suffer for another minute, watching his thighs tremble and his jaw lock in agony. Finally, you spoke:
“Now.”
Soobin let out a long, shattered cry. He came hard, thick ropes of white splattering over his hand and the floor. He kept stroking until he was completely spent, his head hanging low, his breathing coming in jagged gasps.
When the shaking finally stopped, he didn't wait for a command. He leaned down, his tongue darting out to clean his own mess off the floor, silently and meticulously. He didn't look sad; he looked relieved. To him, this was the price of your forgiveness.
Afterward, he crawled back up and rested his head in your lap, his large arms wrapping around your legs. He was hot and damp with sweat. He pressed a soft, grateful kiss to your thigh.
“Thank you for letting me,” he whispered against your skin. “I love you so much.”
You didn’t say a word. You just ran your fingers through his hair. Soobin closed his eyes and drifted, perfectly content with the scraps you threw him.
He knew that tomorrow he’d probably fail you again. He knew he’d end up right back here—on his knees, begging, doing too much. But for now, he was at peace, even if it was a peace bought with his own humiliation.
And you knew it too. You didn't love Soobin for his heart; you loved how easy he was to break. As you stroked his hair, you weren't comforting a boyfriend—you were simply admiring how well you owned your favorite toy.
𓋰 Kai is just so cute ── you can't help but be a little mean...
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀nerd!휴닝카이 x bully!reader (f) bullying shy!kai reader is a little very nasty kinda perv!kai meandom!reader hair pulling humiliation kink she spits his cum back onto his face blowjob not proofread
nerd!휴닝카이 who ogles you in class, eyes practically bulging out of their sockets as he stares at you. bottom lip trapped between his teeth, pen gripped loosely in one hand, he's all but focusing on the lecture, completely in trance by the sight of you reapplying that sparkly gloss to your lips.
nerd!휴닝카이 who trails aimlessly behind you in the halls, still keep a respectable distance as to not raise any questions. but you notice, how could you not? he was being so painfully obvious. "hey, perv!" you whirl around, a sneer already plastered onto your face and kai stumbles to a halt.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"fuck are you looking at?"
he can't answer that, obviously, because how could he explain that he'd been following you to catch a glimpse of your ass in the short skirt you wear? his ears glow a bright pink when you approach, his gaze dropping to his feet to avoid your scrutinizing glare. you scoff, smacking your sticky lips together as you roll your eyes, "weirdo."
nerd!휴닝카이 who offers to do your homework for you. any means to get closer to you. and you let him with a shrug, dumping your textbooks into his lap before walking away, hips swaying dangerously with each step you take. kai brings the books to his nose, trying to catch your scent on them in vain.
nerd!휴닝카이 stalks you on social media, phone in one hand, cock in the other — he jerks himself off roughly, swallowing down the pathetic whines building in his throat. he swipes through picture after picture, innocent ones of you holding puppies, suggestive ones of you pushing your cleavage toward the camera — those always makes him cum right away.
nerd!휴닝카이 who follows you like a lost puppy, your finished homework in his arms as he tries to give it to you. but you're ignoring him? he's walked behind you like a shadow for ten minutes now, trying to grab your attention and failing each time. you're leading him down vacant hallways, finally slipping inside a small storage unit — and kai goes after you without question.
nerd!휴닝카이 doesn't understand why you're so upset. doesn't understand why you're shoving him up against the wall roughly and jabbing a finger in his face. "who the fuck do you think you are to approach me in front of everyone like that? you fucking loser." you seethe, and kai's cock jumps in his pants at the crude words.
nerd!휴닝카이 can't help but get so turned on by the way you talk to him, each insult sends heat straight to his groin and he has to reach a hand down to subtly try to adjust himself. but you notice, because of course you do. eyebrows shooting high on your forehead, the confusion lasts only a moment before your expression morphs into a sinister one.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"the hell? are you hard right now?"
that only makes him whine as he nods weakly, glancing toward the closed door like he was planning a quick escape route. but you won't let him off the hook that easily. the books are shoved to the floor as you take a step closer, breath so close that it mixes with his own.
nerd!휴닝카이 practically melts when you first kiss him, lips parting to allow your tongue inside his mouth without thinking twice. you're mean, biting on his lip harshly, pulling a pained gasp from his throat as he tries to pull back — only to be stopped by your fingers in his hair — tugging hard.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"pathetic bitch, you wanted this all along? is that why you wanted to help me? hoping I'd suck your tiny dick?"
kai wants to tell you no, wants to shake his head and deny the blunt accusation, but he can't. his cock throbs in his pants, hips jerking forward helplessly when your fingers hover above the zipper. you scoff, pulling away from his lips, now smeared with your sparkly gloss, "fine, have it your way."
nerd!휴닝카이 nearly sees stars when you take him in your mouth. the storage room is dark but he can still make out your face, peering up at him through the shadows where you kneel on the floor. your skirt has ridden up your thighs, exposing more of the skin he'd been so desperate to see all this time.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"you got a real tiny dick y'know?"
your lips are still stretched wide around him, tears glistening in your eyes when you force him deeper. "you barely reach the back of my throat." for a moment he can almost believe it, and the thought alone sends a shudder through him as he chokes on a moan, hips thrusting deeper into your mouth, causing you to gag around him.
"fuck, are you trying to kill me? you loser, can't even stay still for a blowjob." and kai nods helplessly, hands grabbing at your shoulders hard enough to bruise. his eyes are squeezed shut, jaw slack as he lets himself by shamelessly loud, not caring who might hear him.
nerd!휴닝카이 cums embarrassingly fast, cock twitching on your tongue before forcing his load down your throat with a whine. you don't swallow, and when you pull off you rise to your feet only to spit his release back into his face.
nerd!휴닝카이 moans at the feeling of his own arousal dripping down his chin, eyes bleary when they find yours. he doesn't move to wipe himself clean, doesn't even bother tucking his soft cock back into his pants as he stares at you with a lopsided grin. you only roll your eyes, already reapplying the gloss across your lips.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"tell anyone about this and you're dead, you hear that, perv?"
then you head out of the storage unit, slamming the door shut behind you and leaving kai a spent, blissed out mess. his gaze flickers down to the books you had forgotten to bring with you, and he scrambles to gather his bearings — then he's rushing after you a second time that day.
🛒 𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: A late-night grocery run turns into a charged moment when a shy, gorgeous cashier has to scan your entire pile of tangled lingerie.
🛒 𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: suggestive tension. Nothing else really, just a slice of life with a potential for more (ikykyk).
🛒 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2.2k
🛒 𝙽𝚊𝚗𝚒’𝚜 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎!: This fic is something that happened to me in real life (sadly not the receipt part) and I thought it would make a cute and hot drabble! I hope you enjoy it! Also thank you my @izzyy-stuff for giving me validation to post this ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎
🛒 𝙽𝚊𝚗𝚒’𝚜 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎!: The public demanded a part two with smut and I delivered. Check it out now 𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮.ᐟ
You only meant to buy a few things—bread, milk, some eggs—essentials that justify an evening grocery run when your fridge has become an echo chamber of condiments and wilted lettuce.
So you're not so sure how you ended up in the clothing section.
Maybe it's the red SALE sign, hand-written and clipped above a rack with a plastic clip, casual advertising that suggests genuine deals rather than marketing psychology. Maybe it's because you've been meaning to replace the basics gathering lint at the back of your drawer. Maybe it's because it’s almost closing time, the store empty enough to hear the low hum of refrigerators.
Your fingers find the fabric before your brain fully registers what you're looking at.
Lace. Delicate and intricate, the kind with floral patterns that catch on the ridges of your fingerprints. There's a lilac set—soft purple that looks almost gray in the store’s lighting—with thin straps that loop and tangle around the hanger. A blush pink thong with a satin bow at the center. A black bralette, sheer enough that you can see your hand through it when you hold it up.
Just looking. Just browsing.
But then one piece is in your basket. Then another. And another.
You feel the heat creeping up your neck even though you're alone, even though there's no one to see, no one to judge the growing collection of satin and lace sitting on top of your very practical, boring sandwich bread and milk. It's fine. It's normal. People buy lingerie at the grocery store all the time.
You head towards checkout, and to your ill-fate, most of the lanes are dark, those plastic “CLOSED“ signs propped against registers like tired sentries. Lane four has a line three people deep: a man with a cart full of energy drinks, a woman with a crying toddler, a college student with fifty dollars worth of snacks. Lane five has its light on but no cashier in sight.
Then, at the far end, a light flickers on above lane seven. The mechanical click of it is barely audible from where you stand, but you see it—that wash of fluorescent white pooling over an empty conveyor belt: open.
You move quickly, almost reflexively, your cart wheels humming against the floor as you cut across the main aisle. You're not running exactly, but you're definitely walking with purpose. There's a small victory in being first, in claiming a lane before the line-avoiders and the impatient descend.
You're already unloading your basket when you look up.
And that's when you see him.
The cashier is tall—taller than you expected from someone sitting on a small stool—with warm brown hair that falls in soft, messy waves across his forehead. He’s wearing a green-brown striped sweater that looks a size too big, sleeves pushed up to his forearms where the knit gathers messily. It only makes the shape of his forearms more noticeable: lean, defined, a quiet strength revealed every time his fingers move.
His name tag sits slightly crooked on his store vest: Kai.
He's looking down at the register screen, one hand poised over the keyboard, but as you approach, he glances up. His features are fine-boned and pretty in a way that feels almost unfair under the harsh overhead lighting; his face should be photographed in golden hour, not fluorescent white.
His eyes meet yours for a fraction of a second—dark, warm, framed by lashes that cast faint shadows across his cheeks—before his gaze drops to the conveyor belt.
Where you've just placed the first piece of lingerie.
The lilac set, specifically. The one with the delicate lace and the straps that are definitely, visibly tangled.
For a moment, neither of you moves.
“Evening,” he says finally, and his voice is lower than you expected. Soft, but with a slight rasp to it, as if he hadn't spoken in a while.
“Hi,” you manage. You busy yourself with unloading the rest of your basket, trying to create a buffer of normalcy—the bread, the milk, a carton of eggs—but then there's another piece of lace, and another, and suddenly the belt is a pastel parade of satin and sheer fabric.
Kai reaches for the first item.
The straps are a mess: looped around the plastic, tangled with the price tag, seemingly knotted by a boy scout. He pauses, and you see the small furrow appear between his brows, that micro-expression of concentration. He sets the hanger down on the counter so he can work at the knot with both hands.
And that's when you notice his hands.
They're big. So large that the delicate straps look almost comically small woven between them. His long fingers move with visible tendons shifting beneath the skin.
You watch his thumb slide under a loop of satin, easing it free. The slow hook of his index finger around a twist of lace, pulling slowly so it doesn't tear. His nails are clean, neatly trimmed. A faint scrub of callus at the base of his fingers. There’s a gentleness to the way he handles the satin, a carefulness that makes you bite your lower lip.
He's focused entirely on the task, head bowed, and you realize with a that you've been openly staring. That you're still staring. So you look up.
And he does too.
Your eyes meet.
You see the exact moment the blush starts: a faint pink that blooms across his cheekbones, creeping up toward his temples. His ears go red at the tips. His lips part slightly: “sorry,” he mutters, “this is really... tangled.”
“It's okay.” Too fast. “Take your time.”
The silence that follows stretches, filled with small, amplified sounds: the murmur of mainstream music that's been playing on loop since 2010, the distant beep of another register, the rustle of fabric as he frees the last strap, his slow breaths. The barcode scanner beeps, sharp in the quiet, and he sets it aside.
He reaches for the next piece. This one isn't tangled, but he still handles it with that same careful attention. His eyes stay fixed on the barcode, on the little red laser, on anything except the blush pink thong currently draped over his very large, very nice hands.
You should say something. Break the tension. Make a joke, maybe, or a casual comment about the weather, the store, literally anything.
But your mind is blank. An empty slate.
“So, um.” His voice cuts through the quiet, but it wavers, almost catching before he clears his throat. “Quiet night, huh?”
Your breath catches, feeling your pulse kicking up a notch.
“Yeah,” you say, nodding too enthusiastically. “Really quiet. Everyone’s probably home watching TV or… yeah.”
“Right. Yeah.” He nods too, still not meeting your eyes. His hands continue moving: scan, set aside, reach.
He picks up the black bralette, the sheer one. His fingers still. You see his jaw tighten and the way his throat works as he swallows. He's staring at the fabric in his hands like it's a puzzle he can't solve, and then, so quickly you almost miss it, his eyes flicker up.
Not to your face.
To your body.
It's a fast sweep, shoulders to waist, a fraction of a second. But it feels like a touch, a warm drag of awareness down your skin that makes your breathing shallow.
And then his eyes go to the faster rise and fall of your chest. The movement is barely noticeable, your top shifting only a fraction with each inhale, yet he watches like he can see every millimeter of it. His stare is a like laser, heating up your ribs, then spreading outwards like a wild fire making you shift your weight.
And that’s all it takes to snap him out of it. He jerks his gaze away, shifting on the tool, his knee knocking softly against the counter. Thud.
“Card or cash?” He says, clearing his throat, forcing the moment back on track.
“Card,” you mumble quietly, enough to be heard.
You fumble for your wallet, fingers clumsy as you pull out your card and slide it across the cool metal edge of the payment terminal. He's still not looking at you. His hand rests on the counter, knuckles faintly tensed, fingers drumming once, twice, then going still.
The machine beeps. Transaction approved.
“Uh— do you need help packing your things?” he turns, reaching for your bag.
“Oh, no, that's okay,” you blurt out, snatching your reusable bag before he can touch it. “I've got it. Thank you.”
He nods once again and turns his back to you.
You start shoving items into your bag: the milk goes in first, then the eggs, then you're cramming lace and satin in with no regard for wrinkles or order, your hands moving too fast.
A soft automatic whir rings as the paper feeds out: long and white, covered in tiny print. From the corner of your eye, you see Kai tear the receipt from the printer cleanly. Then pause.
He looks down at it, still as a held breath.
Then reaches for the pen.
A small movement: wrist turning, fingers tightening around the plastic, the slow deliberate line of his handwriting.
You keep packing. Faster now. Your fingers catch on a strap and you yank it free with more force than necessary. Almost done.
“Here.”
You freeze.
He's holding out the receipt, arm extended across the counter. His expression is controlled, but you notice the tiniest unsteady flicker in his hand.
“Oh, I don't need—” you start, waving him off.
He steps closer before you finish speaking. You catch a faint clean scent of his detergent combined with a lavender accord that you supposed is from his cologne.
He places the receipt directly into your palm. His warm fingers brush yours, lingering half a second—and then he's pulling back, tucking his hands behind the counter like he doesn't trust them.
“Take it.” His voice is different now, dropped even lower, rougher around the edges.
Your fingers close around the paper automatically.
“Thanks.”
He nods once. His gaze stays down, but a faint curve tugs at the corner of his mouth, barely there, but enough to root you in place for one more second.
Then you move. Bag over your shoulder, receipt tight in your fist, feet carrying you toward the doors on instinct. You don't look back. You can't.
The night air hits you like a slap.
Cooler than you expect: sharp, clean, threaded with the faint smell of rain even though the pavement is bone-dry. You inhale hard, trying to steady the rapid thrum under your ribs, the leftover heat simmering stubbornly along your skin.
The parking lot is half-empty, streetlights casting long pools of amber across the asphalt. Your car is parked near the front, and you make your way toward it with the bag bumping against your hip with every step.
You unlock the door and toss everything onto the passenger seat. The bag tips, a slip of lilac lace catching the glow of the overhead light before you shove it quickly back inside with a groan.
You sink into the driver's seat and close the door. Your pulse is way too loud, even more in the absence of everything else. You press your hands to your face, exhaling until your breath fogs against your palms.
Your hands leave your face, needing something steadier to settle your beating hear. Your fingers curled around the steering wheel, staring through the windshield at the glowing storefront. The lights inside are warm and hazy, and you can barely make out the checkout lanes from here.
Something crinkles in your hand.
The receipt.
You glance down. The paper is soft from your grip, edges creased, but the print is clear. Item list. Total. Date. Time. You’re halfway to tucking it into the cupholder before you notice the handwriting at the bottom.
You still.
The ink curves neatly, confidently—just a short line of text, but your breath stutters as you read it.
Would love to see how these look on you. Text me? — Kai
Below it, ten digits trail in neat, slanted script.
You stare.
And stare.
Heat floods through you, different from before. Not embarrassment this time, something hotter that coils low in your stomach and spreads like warm honey through your legs.
A small laugh slips out, quiet and disbelieving, your breath catching on the edge of it.
Your phone sits heavy in your pocket, but you don't reach for it, not yet. Instead, your eyes drift back through the windshield, back toward the store.
Through the wide glass windows, you can see lane seven. Kai stands behind the counter, scanning items for an older man with a cart full of canned soup. His posture is relaxed again, professional. The flush you saw earlier is gone.
But even from here, even through the distance and the glass, you can see it. The smile. Small. Private. The kind that doesn't reach the rest of his face but changes everything about it. He's looking down at the register, scanning items, but that smile is there, curving the corner of his mouth like a secret he's keeping.
Like he knows exactly what he just did.
🧾 𝙽𝚊𝚗𝚒’𝚜 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎!: is this just me feeding my hand kink (specially kai's)? Yes. Part two is in the works people. I'm doing it for the citizens of moablr. Yes it will be smut. Do mention in the comments if you want to be tagged! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧
kai learns how to play guitar, and you both learn how to make much better music together.
❛ content 2.7k words, 18+ [ MDNI! ], explicit sexual content, male reader, making out, frotting, submissive!kai, praise kink implied, heavy petting / grinding, spit used as lube.
the late afternoon sun slants through the blinds of kai's room, painting warm, golden stripes across the messy floor. it's your shared dorm, but this is his sanctuary — littered with stuffed animals on his bed, a half-finished energy drink on his desk, and the faint, sweet scent of his shampoo hanging in the air.
you're perched on the edge of kai’s bed, the familiar weight of your acoustic guitar settled on your thigh.
your fingers pluck lazily at the strings, picking out the melody to a song you've been working on the last days; it's a soft, aimless tune, filling the comfortable silence that exists between you.
kai is lying on his stomach on the other end of the bed, chin propped in his hands, simply watching you. he's been watching you for a while, as you can feel his gaze, a warm, persistent pressure on your profile. when you glance up, kai doesn't look away; he just smiles, that wide, bunny-like smile that crinkles his eyes.
"that's really pretty," kai says, his voice soft, a little drowsy from the lazy afternoon.
"thanks," you murmur, your fingers never stopping. "just messing around."
kai shuffles closer, the mattress dipping under his weight. he props himself up on his elbows, now just a foot away from you.
"i always wished i could play. my fingers are all wrong for it, though. too clumsy," he holds up his hands, wiggling his long, slender fingers in the air.
you can't help but watch them. they are really nice hands; nice, and long, and you've definitely noticed them before. you swallow the thought.
"that's not true. it's all about muscle memory. literally anyone can learn."
a flicker of something hopeful crosses kai’s face.
"yeah?"
an idea sparks, innocent enough on the surface.
"i could show you a few chords. if you want."
kai’s whole face lights up. "really? right now?"
"sure, yeah. come here."
you shift, turning your body more towards him and patting the space on the bed right next to you. kai scrambles up immediately, a flurry of long limbs and eager energy, settling so close to you his knee brushes against yours. the proximity is immediate, his warmth bleeding into your space.
he smells good — like powdered sugar and freshly washed sheets warmed by the sun
you slowly position the guitar in his lap, and kai holds it like it's a foreign object, a little stiffly.
"okay, so, first things first. we're just gonna try a simple G chord," you softly guide his left hand to the neck of the guitar. "your fingers go here, on the fretboard. you wanna use your fingertips, right behind the metal strips."
kai nods, his brow furrowed in concentration.
his fingers are big, and they splay awkwardly across the strings. you reach out, your hand covering his.
"here, like this. your index tinger on the fifth string, second fret," you gently press his fingertip down.
he's so warm.
kai’s breath hitches, just a tiny, almost imperceptible thing, but you feel it more than hear it.
"you okay?" you ask, your voice quieter than you intended.
"mhm," he hums, but he doesn't look at you.
kai is staring at your hands on his as you slowly move his middle finger.
"third finger, on the sixth string, third fret."
your thumb brushes over the soft skin on the back of his hand. kai’s skin is smooth, and you feel a little jolt at the contact, but you ignore it.
"and your ring finger... right next to it, on the first string, third fret."
your hand is practically wrapped around his now, guiding his fingers into place. kai is holding the position, but his hand is trembling slightly under yours.
"good," you murmur, your mouth closer to his ear than you realized. "now, try to press down firmly with your fingertips. don't touch the other strings."
kai presses down, his muscles tensing. he lets out a very soft grunt of effort, and the sound does something really funny to your stomach.
"okay, now, with your other hand," you say, your right hand leaving his left to gently take his right wrist, bringing it to the soundhole. "you just wanna strum gently, right around here."
your chest is pressed against kai’s shoulder now.
you're both just... frozen there. your hand is around his wrist, your body a warm line against his back, and kai tilts his head, just slightly, and you're suddenly looking at each other. kai’s eyes are wide, a little hazy, his lips slightly parted. the air in the room has become thick, charged with something electric and unspoken.
"try it," you whisper.
kai drags his thumb across the strings. a clumsy, muted, but unmistakably chord-like sound rings out. well, it's not perfect, but it's there.
a genuine, bright smile breaks across his face.
"i did it!" he exclaims, turning to you fully.
kai’s face is inches from yours now, his smile so close you could count his eyelashes, and the excitement in his pretty eyes shifts, darkens just a fraction as he realizes the position you're in.
the tension you'd felt building for weeks, maybe months, is suddenly a physical thing, crackling in the small space between your mouths — the way his gaze drops to your lips, and the way your heart hammers so hard you're sure he can definitely hear it. it's insane, it's overwhelming, but it's all you can think about.
you don't know who moves first, maybe you both do, but suddenly, the guitar is an obstacle.
you gently pull it away, setting it carefully on the floor beside the bed, the moment it takes feeling like an eternity. when you straighten up, kai is right there. his hand comes up, his long fingers curling into the fabric of your t-shirt at your chest, tugging you even closer.
"hyuka..." you breathe, a last, feeble attempt at sanity.
"please," kai whispers, his voice so small, so desperate, and so, oh so whiny.
you crash into him.
the first kiss is really messy and desperate, a collision of lips and a sharp intake of breath. kai’s lips are soft, impossibly soft, and they move against yours with a clumsy urgency that makes your head spin. one of your hands cups the back of his neck, your fingers threading into the soft hair at his nape, and you pull him even closer, deepening the kiss.
kai makes a sound at that; a really small, high-pitched whine right into your mouth, and it sends a bolt of pure heat straight to your groin.
you can feel kai’s hands everywhere on you — they fist in your shirt, then slide up to your shoulders, then tangle in your hair, pulling you down on top of him as he falls back onto the mattress. you follow, your body covering his, and it's so perfect. the feel of him beneath you, all long limbs and lean muscle, is intoxicating.
you break the kiss just long enough to look at him.
kai is sprawled out on his bed, surrounded by his stuffed animals, his hair a mess, his lips kiss-swollen and wet, his chest heaving. his eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide, and he's looking up at you with an expression of pure, unadulterated want.
"hyuka," you murmur, your voice rough. "you're so..."
he doesn't let you finish.
kai pulls you back down, kissing you with renewed fervor. his warm tongue swipes against your bottom lip, and you open for him immediately. the kiss is so wet, and so hot, and so full of the taste of him — sweet, like the energy drink, and something that didn’t belong to anything but him. your tongues slide together, a slick, intimate dance that has you groaning into his mouth.
his hips shift underneath you, a restless, unconscious roll, and you feel the hard line of kai’s cock pressing against your thigh. a shudder runs through you, and you instinctively press back, grinding your own growing hardness against his hip.
kai whines again, the sound breaking the kiss, his head tipping back against the pillow.
"oh," he breathes, his eyes fluttering closed.
kai’s hips buck up again, seeking more friction.
you take the opportunity to trail your lips down his jaw, to the sensitive skin just below his ear, and kai gasps, his hands gripping your shoulders tighter. you suck gently, and he lets out a long, shaky moan.
"god, you sound so good," you mumble against his skin, your lips brushing his neck. "so fucking pretty."
kai’s hips are moving now in a steady, needy rhythm, rubbing himself against you.
the friction is good, so freaking good, but it's not quite enough. it's through layers of clothes, and you need more; you need to feel him. so you push yourself up onto your elbows, looking down at him. kai’s eyes are glazed, his breathing ragged.
you reach for the hem of his shirt.
"can i?"
kai nods frantically, lifting his arms to help you. you pull the soft cotton over his head and toss it aside, revealing his pale, smooth chest — kai is lean, with a beautiful dusting of light hair trailing down from his navel and disappearing beneath the waistband of his sweatpants.
you can't help but stare.
"you're so beautiful," you say, and you mean it.
a faint blush creeps across kai’s chest and up his neck. he looks away, a shy, selt-conscious smile on his lips; it's such a kai thing to do, that mix of shyness and blatant desire, and it makes you want him even more.
you lean down and kiss his chest, right over his heart, and kai gasps, his soft hands flying to your hair. you trail your lips lower, slowly pressing open-mouthed kisses to his sternum, his ribs, the soft skin of his stomach. kai squirms under you, little pants and whines falling from his lips with every kiss.
when you reach the waistband of his sweats, you look up at him — kai is watching you, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, his eyes wide and desperate.
"please," he whines again, his voice cracking. "please, don't stop."
you hook your fingers into the waistband of his sweats and his underwear, and kai lifts his hips eagerly, letting you pull them both down his long legs and off. the boy simply lies there, completely naked, exposed, and so incredibly hard. kai’s cock is pretty, just like the rest of him — long and slender, flushed a deep pink at the tip, curving slightly towards his stomach. a bead of pre-cum glistens at the slit.
you've never seen anything so hot in your entire life.
you quickly sit up and rid yourself of your own shirt and pants, never taking your eyes off him. kai watches you, his gaze shamelessly roaming over your body, a soft, appreciative sound escaping his lips. when you're both naked, you move back over him, your bodies pressing together from chest to thigh. the feeling of his bare skin against yours is electrifying.
and then, slowly, your cocks slide against each other for the very first time.
a sharp, dual moan is torn from both of you.
the sensation is incredibly hot, silky, and intimate in a way you've never experienced. his hard length is pressed against yours, and the feeling of it twitching against your own sends a jolt of pleasure straight through you.
kai's eyes fly wide open.
"oh my god," he breathes, his hips bucking instinctively, grinding his cock against yours.
the friction is perfect, just the right amount of pressure.
"that's... that's so..."
"yeah," you groan, your forehead dropping to his shoulder. "fuck—hyuka."
you shift your hips, experimenting with the angle. you find a rhythm, a slow, deep grind that has both of you gasping. kai’s hands are on your back, nails digging in slightly, and he's moaning, a continuous stream of breathy little sounds that are completely driving you crazy. it's messy, and slick, and so incredibly hot.
but after a minute, it's still not quite enough.
the friction is starting to catch, the slide not as smooth as you want it to be — you need it wetter, slicker.
you pull back just enough to look at him.
kai’s face is flushed, his lips parted, his expression one of blissful confusion at the pause. without a word, you lift your hand to your mouth and spit generously into your palm. you see his eyes widen, his pupils dilating further.
you bring your wet hand down between your bodies, wrapping your slick fingers around both of your cocks. the feeling of your hand wrapped around both of them, holding them together, makes kai’s cry out, a sharp, high-pitched moan.
"oh—shit," he whimpers. "yes."
you start to move your hand, a slow, tight grip, fucking both of you into your fist. the spit provides the perfect amount of slippery glide, and the sensation is amplified tenfold. kai’s pre-cum mixes with yours, adding to the slickness, and his hips start to thrust up into your grip, matching the rhythm you've set.
"you like that?" you ask, your voice a low growl in his ear.
"yes, yes, yes," he chants, his head thrashing on the pillow. "feels so good, please don't stop, please..."
you release your own cock, deciding you want to feel him, all of him, just the two of you. you press your bodies back together, aligning your cocks side-by-side, and you wrap your hand around both of them again, but this time you don't just stroke; you press, squeezing them together, and begin to thrust your hips. it's a different kind of friction — broad, wet, and scorching hot. the silky skin of kai’s cock slides against yours with every movement, the heads bumping and rubbing together.
kai moans loudly, his legs wrapping around your waist, locking you in place.
"hyuka, you feel incredible," you groan into his neck, your rhythm becoming more urgent, more desperate.
the sounds you're making are lewd — the wet, rhythmic slide of skin on skin, kai’s constant, beautiful whining, your own guttural groans.
"i'm close," he sobs, his voice thick with tears of pleasure; kai is clinging to you, his whole body trembling. "i'm so close, i'm gonna—i can’t hold it—"
"let go," you command, your own release coiling tight and hot in your gut. "cum for me, hyuka. wanna feel you."
and that's all it takes.
with a choked, desperate cry, kai shatters; his body goes rigid, a violent shudder wracking through him as he cums, his hot release spilling between you, coating your stomachs and, most importantly, slicking up your cocks even more. the feeling of his cock pulsing against yours, the hot splash of his cum, is the final push you need.
"f-fuck—hyuka," you groan, your hips stuttering, losing their rhythm.
you press into him one last time, your cock sliding against kai’s spasming one, and you follow him over the edge. your orgasm rips through you, intense and blinding, and you feel your own release join his, painting your stomachs and mixing with the mess there.
for a long moment, neither of you moves.
you're both just breathing, harsh and ragged, your bodies pressed together, slick with sweat and cum. you can feel kai’s heart hammering against your chest, a frantic echo of your own.
finally, you manage to lift your head and look at him.
kai is a beautiful mess; his whole face is flushed, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, his eyes are closed, and his lips are curved in a tiny, blissed-out smile. you can't help but lean in and press a soft, tender kiss to the corner of his mouth.
he opens his eyes, and they're soft, dazed, and so full of something that makes your chest ache.
"hi," kai whispers, his voice hoarse.
a laugh bubbles up from your chest. "hi yourself."
kai giggles softly, a short, breathless, beautiful sound, and his arms tighten around you. you stay there for a moment, enjoying the warmth and the comfortable, heavy silence, before you finally shift, grimacing at the sticky mess on your stomachs.
"we, uh... we should probably clean up," you murmur.
kai nods, but doesn't let go.
"in a minute," he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, letting out a contented sigh. "that was... wow."
you smile against his hair, pressing another kiss to the top of his head.
