1-800-WHENEVER-U-WANT-IT | ft. Stray Kids
In which Jisung is honest about what he wants. Not surprisingly, his boyfriends want it, too.
— Rating; E for Explicit
— Pairing(s); Everyone x Everyone, SKZ OT8, SKZ x Reader
— Author’s Note; I’m always yapping about this concept on the blog so I finally decided to do something about it. It was supposed to be a drabble… but look where that got me SMH. [There will be a part two but like…. don’t ask me when that’s coming because girlies…. idk either!]
— Warnings; mlm content, everyone fucks and everyone fucks each other (regardless of gender), smidge of brat taming, sexual flashbacks, objectification of the female body (??? i mean, they’re talking about reader’s pussy so— do what you will with that), pussy delivered via air-express pretty much, mostly jisung-centric, chan gets twinked, reader is older, uh— idk am i missing something???
Jisung is the first to let it slip.
“I miss pussy.”
He feels bad for blurting it out like that, but only slightly. A weird break between performances coupled with more beers than he’d like to count have him feeling loose in regard to his brain-mouth filter. He doesn’t have much of one to begin with, but even then, he thinks he would have a bit more tact.
“What?” Felix asks, deep voice drawing everyone’s attention.
Jisung shrugs, picking at the label on his beer bottle. “I miss pussy. Like, real bad.”
An image pops into his head when he thinks about it more — a memory from what feels like a millennia ago.
Soft, glistening thighs, slick with arousal that drips from the cunt between them. The prettiest he’s ever seen; a delectable mound of flesh that Jisung can’t wait to get his mouth on. The sticky sound that accompanies the act of thumbing the folds open makes him sigh with content. The feeling deepens as he reveals a cute, pudgy clitoris and a pulsing hole that can only be described as hungry.
“Jisung,” the voice turns his name into a siren call. Hips jut forward, a silent plea for him to follow through with his promise. “Please.”
In real time, Jisung groans the same way he had in the memory. He can feel the way his mouth has begun to water, enticed by the phantom scent of eager pussy, dick chubbing up between his legs. Someone whistles and it makes heat prickle the skin of his throat and face. He reaches to adjust his erection, feeling a bit like a pathetic virgin.
“Are we not enough for you anymore?” Felix asks, pouring. The look in his eye tells Jisung that he’s teasing, but it doesn’t stop Jisung from trying to explain.
“No!” He shouts, eyes wide. “That’s not what I—“
“Unbelievable,” Minho spits, but it’s said with less venom than a normally angry Minho would use.
“You have access to more dicks and holes than you know what to do with and you’re still hungry for more.”
Jisung ducks his head, chin to his chest and almost sheepish, but part of him (his dick) likes the way Minho teases him — a little mean, and a lot of sexy. Minho knows this, as confirmed by the lingering smirk on his lips.
“Kind of disrespectful, don’t you think?”
“Kind of whorish of him, actually,” Jeongin scoffs.
“No—,” Jisung denies, “It’s— It’s not—“ he looks around for help, eyes bouncing from member to member in search of someone to aide in his defense.
“It’s not just any pussy though,” Chan fills in, watching as Jisung’s body deflates of tension at being understood. Chan grins, undeniably soft where his first kid is concerned.
“You miss pussy, but like, there’s more to it than that, right?” — Hyunjin asks, eyes squinted in Jisung’s direction — “Like, you’re missing one pussy in particular?”
“Yeah,” Jisung nods eagerly, “Just one.”
“Whose pussy do you miss, ‘Sung?” It’s Changbin who speaks this time and Jisung finds it funny that this conversation has become a group affair given the circumstances.
“You mean he’s had more than one?” Seungmin jabs before Jisung can answer, evil cackle ensuing.
Jisung only glares, fully preparing something say slick right back, but the next few things happen so quickly that Jisung find himself speechless. There’s a hand fisted in Seungmin’s floppy locks, one that Jisung recognizes to be Minho’s. Minho gestures with his free hand for Jisung to continue speaking and he does, but not before Changbin is telling Seungmin to keep quiet,
“Hush, Puppy,” the older male rasps, side-eying Seungmin as if to question his bratty behavior.
Seungmin doesn’t speak, just blinks dopily from where he’s seated. Now, with Seungmin caught between Minho’s literal grasp and Changbin’s undeniable brat-taming aura, Jisung musters up the courage to put a name to his desire.
There’s only one pussy in the entire cosmos that would have any of them so gone over that they’re still thinking about it months down the road. Despite knowing the outcome, it doesn’t stop the room from erupting in a chorus of agreements with Jisung’s next word. And that’s all it is — just a reverent, breathy utterance of a name that has all eight of them reminiscing.
Yours.
“Fuck,” Jeongin groans, his own mind suddenly filled with memories of you and your sweet, little cunt. “Why’d you have to bring her up? Now I’m thinking about Noona’s pussy, too!”
“We’re all thinking about it now, you little shit,” Changbin grunts, dragging a hand down his face.
Jisung balks, mildly offended. He takes back what he said earlier about almost feeling bad for bringing up the fact that he misses pussy. They asked him a question and he answered. What— did they want him to lie? Jisung hasn’t had pussy that wasn’t yours in over a year! He’d even go as far as to say he’s not the only one either; in fact, he’s willing to bet all the won in his wallet that the rest of the guys are in the same exact boat. Besides! It’s not like it’s a crime to think about you.
“I miss it, too,” Felix says, looking like he’s pained. He gulps, adam’s apple bobbing with the action. “Miss how wet it gets. Never have to use lube, you know?”
Hyunjin, though silent, is experiencing his own moment of duress. Felix’s words send him spiraling down memory lane. Sure, it’s been a few months, but Hyunjin could never forget how messy your pussy gets. Fragments of memories play over and over again in his brain, nothing but phantom echoes of your moans and the sound of your creamy cunt.
“Look,” Hyunjin says, propping your head up with his hand. He angles your neck in such a way that you won’t be uncomfortable, but it also forces you to stare down at where his cock is half buried inside you.
“Look at how messy you are, how messy you’ve made me.”
“S-Sorry,” you gasp up at him, eyelids fluttering when he slides all the way back in. You can literally feel how each stroke pushes wetness out of your cunt, leaving it frothing at the base of his cock and slipping down your back side.
“Don’t be sorry,” Hyunjin coos, savoring the sight of your pussy gushing all over his dick before he leans in to lock his lips with yours. “I fucking love you messy.”
“Yeah,” he rasps, mouth suddenly feeling dry. He takes a swig of his beer like it’s going to help the issue. “I’ll second that.”
“I think I miss how sensitive she gets. It’s so easy it is to make her come just by playing with her clit.”
If Jeongin hadn’t been staring in his general direction, he wouldn’t have been able to tell who’s speaking. Nonetheless, he feels it viscerally when Seungmin’s words hit him in the gut; he fights the urge to whine as a flashback hits him. Hard.
“Wait, w-wait,” you whine, high and pretty, “It’s too much!”
Jeongin can only cluck his tongue and shake his head, fingers curling deeper into your cunt. You’ve come for him twice already, surely you can come a third time — even though you were ready to tap out after the first one. He knows you’re close; you’re clenching around his fingers like crazy, hips jumping every time he lets his knuckles catch on the sensitive skin of your entrance. Jeongin hears you sniffle, body sagging as it loses the ability to fight.
“That’s right,” he coos, bringing his thumb up to circle the twitching and neglected bud of your clit. “Stop fighting it.”
You gasp, chanting little, broken syllables of his name as he works you closer to the edge. Jeongin doesn’t even care that his dick is hard, covered in your slick, and hanging neglected between his own legs when you look like this. Nothing matters more than making you come. Not here, not now, and certainly not when you’re crying in his bed and squirting all over his sheets.
“I’m with Seungmin-hyung on this one,” he croaks out, “tapping out after one round is crazy work.”
“Tight,” Changbin mumbles solemnly, thick fingers gripping even thicker thighs. “Miss how it just —,” he pauses, hands coming together to squeeze the air, “hugs my cock. Still amazed at how such a tiny hole can fit all of us like a glove.”
Changbin’s eyes are wild, pupils dilated so wide that he looks nearly unrecognizable. Minho doesn’t need a mirror to know that Changbin’s expression is being recreated on his own face. The thing is, Minho doesn’t get affected by shit like this; his self control is impeccable! Yet, here he is, sporting a half boner in front of seven other guys as he thinks about how snug your pussy feels when he’s inside it.
Minho’s hands have a death grip on your hips. He grits his teeth to stay focused, to retain basic decency instead of losing his marbles like a caveman. He doesn’t think anyone can blame him though, not like this. Who wouldn’t lose their shit when a pretty woman is bouncing in their lap? A pretty woman with a tight and hot, little pussy that she keeps trying to spear open on his dick.
“You’re gonna — fuck— hurt yourself,” he grits while making no move to bring you to a halt.
“Hurts now,” you whimper pitifully. You corkscrew your hips and manage to sink down on him a bit further, leaving Minho to beg internally for the higher powers to have mercy on him.
“Hurts so good though,” you whine, squeezing Minho’s hips with your knees.
Before he can say anything, your mouth is on his, slipping that devious tongue of yours into his mouth almost instantly. Feeling the way you melt as the kiss goes on, sparks fire in Minho’s veins. Call him crazy but he can feel your pussy get wetter. It clenches when he bites your bottom lip, gushes when he licks to soothe it, and all of a sudden you’re properly seated in his lap with a creaky moan.
“Shit,” he curses, hyper aware of current state. “Don’t you fucking move; there’s no way I’m coming first.”
“You okay there, kitty-hyung?” Seungmin teases, finding entertainment in the older man’s struggle, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“If you value your life, Kim Seungmin, you’ll shut the fuck up right now,” said man grumbles, before letting out a gruff sigh. “Changbin’s not wrong though; feels like I’m gonna break her every single time.”
By the end of it all, Jisung feels deranged.
Logically, he understands that he’s (mostly) to blame here — after all, this whole situation started because of him — but, like, come on! He’s losing his mind! If his own recollection of you isn’t enough to kill him, everyone’s reasons for missing you in their beds will surely do the trick. His dick is leaking at this point, needy and angry in the confines of his pants. He misses your pussy so bad; he misses you so bad. So much so that he’s ready to say fuck the contract, fuck the NDA, and fuck JYP in the form of catching the next flight to wherever you are.
Dispatch would have a field day with that one, for sure. And fortunately — or unfortunately, from Jisung’s point of view — Chan would have him beheaded for being reckless and horny. It’s not the potential of his ruined reputation, or even being murdered by his leader, that keeps him rooted right where he’s at though. Dispatch wouldn’t only drag him and the rest of the group through the mud, they’d ruin you, too. Fans would tear you apart, call you mean things and dox your information like half of them aren’t grown men who’re pushing closer to the thirty every day.
Jisung can’t have that. Yes, he needs you something fierce, but not by any means that would call for risking your safety just so he can get his dick wet. Instead, he turns to the one person who hasn’t spoken since the beginning. The only one of them who can put an end to his suffering: Chan.
“Hyung,” Jisung rasps, turning to where Chan is seated. The older man is refusing to make eye contact, full lips pulled into a straight line.
The rest of the room seems to catch onto Jisung’s whims, all of them choosing to stare Chan down too. Chan can feel their eyes on him in the way heat crawls up his neck, prickling his skin along the way. He shouldn’t indulge them; he should hold strong, tell them how ridiculous it would be to make you fly out while they’re on tour nonetheless.
“Hyung,” Jisung tries again, “Hyung, please.”
“Jisung,” Chan says back, still refusing to look at him. “Jisung, you know that’s not—“
“C’mon, Chris,” Felix cuts, pretty lips pursed in a pout.
“She— She might be busy!”
“Bullshit,” someone coughs, followed by the clearing of their throat.
It was a futile protest and Chan knows as much. He saw the eye rolls some of his members gave at his response; they know just like he does that the probability of you being too busy is slim-to-none. Truthfully, he doesn’t even know why he’s resisting so hard — outside of the tour, that is. It has been awhile and the kids miss you like crazy which would be enough reason to call you alone. Hell, Chan misses you like crazy and if you knew of the struggle he’s having right now, you’d probably threaten to castrate him in his sleep.
Amidst his mental monologue — and as if they’d anticipated further refusal — Jisung and Felix seem to have a moment of twin telepathy. Chan doesn’t see them coming, but ultimately knows he’s fucked when he suddenly has a lap full of them. He’s a sucker for any of his kids on a normal day, but Jisung — his very first — and Felix — his little taste of Australia — hold a special place in Chan’s heart. One that they clearly are using to their advantage.
“Chan,” Jisung mumbles, all chubby cheeks and batting lashes, arms slinging around Chan’s neck like it’s just the two of them, “Channie-hyung.”
“Please?” Felix asks, voice even lower than normal. One of his tiny hands comes to play with Chan’s hair, and he even kisses the line of Chan’s jaw for a critical double-hit. “Please, Chris?”
“Call her. Channie-hyung, please call her. Tell her how badly we need her; she’ll come.”
“Yeah, do it for us, Hyung,” Hyunjin joins in, drawing Chan’s attention. Hyunjin’s long limbs spread out in a stretch that appears more provocative than it has any right to be, making Chan’s dick kick in his shorts.
“I—,” he begins, unprepared for the unanimous chorus of ‘Hyung!’ that interrupts him. Cruel of his boys to all gang up on him like this — downright heinous.
“Okay,” he croaks, trying to ignore that Felix is still working his mouth over the skin of Chan’s neck. Or the fact that someone’s hand is snaking into the pocket of his shorts. “I’ll call her.”
“Great!” Changbin claps his hands, giddy smile taking over his face.
“Lino-hyung will book the flight!” Seungmin shouts while pressing Chan’s phone into his hand and nearly taking out his eardrum in the process. “And I call first dibs!” He says, cackling like an evil minion.
Finally, the focus is off Chan as chaos erupts, everyone fighting to be the person that gets to have you first. It’s Chan’s turn to roll his eyes now; there’s sort of an unspoken rule that first (and last) “dibs” belong to him. Chan doesn’t usually exercise his superiority when it comes to activities with you, but considering the moves they pulled on him to get here tonight, he thinks this time might just be the first.
“Brats,” Chan murmurs under his breath as he unlocks his phone to get to your contact.
His finger hovers over your picture briefly. He lets himself take a deep breath, then clicks on your number like he said he would. The phone rings and rings for a few beats, not doing anything to quell Chan’s nervousness. He thinks of hanging up and trying again, but then the picks up and out comes your voice, thick with what Chan only assumes to be sleepiness, meaning that he’s woken you up from.
“H-Hello,” you mumble, sounding so cute that Chan forgets every con that he had towards calling you in the first place.
“Hi, baby,” he croons through the speaker, desire running rampant at the sound of your sleepy voice. The next question is more of a formality than a true question, especially when he sees Minho already dropping the link to your flight confirmation into the group chat.
“Wanna take a trip?”
© hyungszn 2025; please do not copy, steal, repost, modify, translate, use for ai, or recommend on any other platform without my permission!
