We are all so appreciative of your writing so don’t feel guilty about not posting as much, look after yourself first we will still be here!!🤍🤍
When you find the time could you write a reaction for p1h where reader is oblivious to the crush the boys have on her and she ends up sitting in their lap and they get worked up leading to lowkey dry humping, thank you sm for all the content!!🤍
pairing: P1Harmony x reader
warnings: sexual tension, slight dry humping, members crushing on reader, tension in general
disclaimer: not my pic
Keeho
The party swelled like a tide that forgot when to turn back. Music thumped through the walls, laughter tangled in the air, and bodies pressed closer until moving felt like swimming. You drifted from group to group, smiling, talking, letting the noise carry you.
Across the room, Keeho sat on the couch in the so-called chill area, which was not chill at all anymore. He watched you without meaning to. Every time you laughed, his chest felt too small for his heart. He told himself to relax, to look anywhere else, but his eyes kept finding you like a habit they never unlearned.
When you finally edged closer to the couch, you spotted him and paused. “Hey, you okay?” you asked, leaning in so he could hear you over the music.
He nodded quickly, then mirrored the question. “Yeah. You?”
You laughed, brushing hair out of your face. “It’s getting way too full for me. I feel like I’m being jostled every five seconds.”
Keeho let out a breath he did not realize he was holding. “Same. I thought this area would be quieter, but I was wrong.”
You glanced toward the bar, clearly considering escape. “I might grab a drink,” you said. “If I can make it there without getting knocked over.”
The universe took that as a challenge.
As you stepped past the couch, someone bumped into your shoulder hard enough to throw you off balance. Your foot slipped. The floor tilted. For half a second, there was nothing but surprise.
Then Keeho’s hands were on you.
He reacted before thinking, arms catching you and pulling you back. Instead of steady ground, you landed squarely in his lap. The impact was soft but sudden, your weight settling there as if it belonged.
Time stalled.
Keeho’s face went hot instantly. His breath caught, heart slamming so loudly he was sure you could hear it. His hands hovered for a fraction of a second before tightening just enough around your waist to keep you from tipping again.
You laughed, breathless but unbothered. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”
“Ah, it's fine” he said quickly, voice a little higher than usual. “You’re good. Really.”
You shifted, trying to straighten yourself, clearly focused on regaining balance and dignity. The small movement sent Keeho’s thoughts scattering. He tightened his grip without meaning to, not rough, just instinctive, like his body was determined not to let you fall again.
“Crowds are dangerous tonight,” you joked, glancing around to find your friends. “Have you seen my friends?”
You moved again, twisting slightly to look past the couch. Keeho swallowed hard and forced himself to breathe evenly. His shoulders tensed, every nerve suddenly aware of how close you were, your ass rubbing against his crotch. He kept his gaze fixed somewhere safely neutral, the wall, the floor, anywhere but your face.
“I think they went toward the kitchen,” he said, hoping his voice sounded normal.
You nodded, still half turned, still shifting as you searched the room. Each small movement made it harder for him to stay composed. His heart refused to slow down. His thoughts tangled, looping uselessly around the fact that you had no idea how much this moment meant to him.
After a second, you smiled down at him. “By the way, thanks for catching me, hero.”
If only you knew, he thought.
Theo
The practice room was quieter than usual, the music already shut off and replaced by low chatter and the squeak of sneakers against the floor. Theo sat on a chair near the mirror, towel draped loosely around his neck, posture relaxed in a way that suggested he was trying very hard not to think about anything at all.
You stood a few feet in front of him and bent down to fix your shoelaces. Almost immediately, you frowned.
“Why are these suddenly impossible?” you muttered, tugging at the lace as it slipped through your fingers again.
To steady yourself, you reached out and braced one hand against Theo’s shoulder. It felt natural, something you had done a hundred times before. Theo, on the other hand, reacted like his brain missed a step. His shoulder shifted under your hand. Then he adjusted his posture. Then he moved again, restless and visibly uncomfortable.
You tried tying the lace once more. It failed.
“Theo,” you sighed softly, not annoyed, just tired. “You’re moving.”
“Sorry,” he said immediately, sitting up straighter. “I didn’t realize.”
He did it again anyway.
You paused and looked at him. His gaze was fixed somewhere just past you, jaw tight, ears already dusted pink. After a beat, you exhaled through a small laugh.
“Okay no, this isn't working” you said. “Sorry in advance.”
He blinked. “For what—”
You turned and carefully sat down in his lap.
Theo froze.
Every thought in his head evaporated, leaving behind only the startling weight of you settling there and the awareness of how close you suddenly were. His hands hovered uselessly at his sides, fingers curling into the fabric of his pants as if anchoring himself. He did not say a word, afraid that if he spoke, his voice would give him away.
You leaned forward to focus on your shoes, fully absorbed in redoing the knot. Theo stared straight ahead at the mirror, eyes unfocused, face heating up by the second. He tried to concentrate on his breathing, on the reflection of the room, on literally anything except the way your back was bent and the way your perfect round ass was practically served on a silver platter.
His ears burned. His shoulders tensed. He forced them to relax.
When you finally finished tying the laces, you straightened up a little too fast. The room tilted for a split second, and instinct took over. You leaned back, sinking deeper into his lap to steady yourself. Your back and his chest were so close, he was afraid you could feel his heartbeat.
He could clearly feel the warmth of your body, the way your ass pressed against his crotch, and the soft material of your sweatpants.
Theo’s hands moved before he could stop them. They came to rest at your hips, firm enough to keep you balanced. The moment registered, and he stiffened again, heart slamming against his ribs.
You laughed, light and unbothered. “Wow, that’s on me. I got dizzy for a second. Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” he said, voice controlled with effort, even as his pulse raced.
Before either of you could shift away, voices rang out from across the room.
“Ohhh,” someone teased, followed immediately by the familiar tune. “C-Call me Pretty, p-p-push me Please—”
Excited, you instinctively moved, twisting slightly to look at the others. The small movement sent Theo into full internal panic. He drew in a slow, deliberate breath, jaw tightening as he focused on keeping himself composed. His grip loosened carefully as you pushed yourself upright and stood.
You turned back to him, cheeks warm, still smiling. “Thanks for letting me borrow your lap,” you joked.
Theo nodded, forcing a small smile of his own. Outwardly, he looked calm. Grounded. Normal.
Inside, he was replaying the moment in vivid detail, heart still racing, certain he would never sit in that chair the same way again.
Jiung
The studio was already overflowing by the time the demo was queued up. Staff members leaned against walls, dancers sat cross-legged on the floor, and every chair and couch had been claimed early. The air buzzed with anticipation, quiet conversations tapering off as the speakers crackled to life.
You stood near the back, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you scanned the room. Every seat was taken. You debated just sitting on the floor when Jiung, already seated on the couch, noticed you. His eyes met yours, and he lifted a hand slightly.
“Hey,” he called softly, saying your name. He shifted forward as if to stand. “You can sit.”
You smiled, relieved, and made your way over before he could fully get up. In your mind, it was obvious. Space was limited. The couch was crowded. There was one solution.
So you sat down.
Right in his lap.
Jiung’s brain stopped working.
He sucked in a sharp breath, hands lifting instinctively before freezing midair, unsure where to place them. The words he meant to say tangled up and never made it out. By the time he processed what had happened, you were already settled, adjusting slightly to get comfortable.
“Perfect,” you said lightly, glancing back at him. “Thank you.”
He nodded, a little too quickly. “Y-Yeah. No problem.”
His face burned. Not just warm, but hot, like every ounce of blood in his body had rushed upward all at once. He told himself to move, to correct the misunderstanding, to stand up and offer the seat properly. He did none of those things.
The demo started.
Music filled the room, deep bass humming through the floor. You leaned back naturally as you listened, one arm stretching along the back of the couch behind Jiung. Your shoulder brushed his, casual and unthinking. Jiung sat perfectly still, posture locked, afraid that any movement might draw attention or break the moment entirely.
You nodded along to the beat, clearly engaged. Halfway through the first chorus, you turned your head slightly toward him. “This is really good,” you said, eyes bright. “I like it a lot.”
Jiung smiled before he could stop himself. That one sentence cut through his nerves, pride blooming in his chest. “Thank you, this means a lot” he said quietly. “We worked really hard on it.”
As the track built, the rhythm grew faster, more energetic. Without realizing it, you started to move along with it. Nothing dramatic, just a subtle sway, hips shifting slightly as you followed the beat.
Jiung closed his eyes.
He focused on the music. The bass. The melody. The echo of the vocals. Anything except the fact that you were right there, relaxed and rubbing yourself against him, completely unaware of the internal chaos unfolding beneath you.
His hands clenched into fists against his thighs. He wanted to move them, to rest them somewhere neutral, somewhere safe. He did not trust himself to do that without making things worse. His breathing slowed deliberately as he counted it out in his head.
In. Out.
You hummed softly along with the track, leaning back just a little more. Jiung’s shoulders tensed, then forced themselves to relax again. He stayed silent, eyes still closed, expression carefully composed.
When the demo finally faded out, the room erupted into chatter. You straightened up, energized, and laughed. “That was amazing.”
Jiung opened his eyes, heart still racing, and nodded. On the outside, he looked calm. Collected. Professional.
Inside, he was hanging on by a thread, silently amazed at how easily you had undone him without even trying.
Intak
The gym buzzed with low energy, the kind that followed an intense workout. Mats were scattered across the floor, water bottles lined the walls, and a few people stretched quietly. Intak sat on a bench near the mirrors, elbows on his knees as he caught his breath, hair damp and cheeks flushed from exertion.
You limped toward him, one hand pressed against the back of your leg.
“I think I messed something up,” you complained, stopping in front of him. “Like, actually. I might have torn a muscle or something.”
Intak’s head snapped up immediately. “What? Where?” he asked, concern overtaking his usual playful tone.
You gestured to your calf. “Here. It started hurting halfway through practice.”
He frowned, studying you for a second. “It’s probably just tight,” he said gently. “You’ve been pushing yourself hard. You should sit down and rest it.”
You sighed. “I tried. It still hurts.”
He hesitated, then added, “Sometimes you can massage it a bit. Carefully. That usually helps.”
You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Okay. And how do I do that?”
That was the moment Intak realized he had not thought this through at all.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again, glancing at your leg like it had suddenly become a very complicated puzzle. “Uh,” he said, laughing awkwardly. “I mean, I can show you, but—”
You chuckled, clearly unbothered by his uncertainty, and before he could react, you stepped closer and sat down in his lap. One arm looped loosely around his shoulder for balance as you adjusted yourself.
“Realx,” you said casually. “I'm not made of sugar.”
Intak went very still.
Heat rushed to his face instantly, spreading down his neck as he cleared his throat. “Y-Yeah,” he said, voice rougher than he intended. “Okay. Just—just tell me if it hurts too much.”
He bent forward slowly, careful, and reached out to touch your calf. His hands were warm, movements tentative at first. You guided him, pointing to the spot that ached the most.
“Right there,” you said.
He applied a little pressure, thumbs moving gently along the muscle. You hissed softly, fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt at the sensation.
“Too much?” he asked quickly.
“No,” you said after a second, breath evening out. “It hurts, but like… in a good way. Don’t stop.”
You relaxed, sinking a little deeper into his lap without thinking. Intak adjusted instinctively, his other hand sliding carefully around your waist to steady you. His fingers gently stroked your sweaty skin; your shirt had ridden up a little.
As he worked, he glanced up at your face. You looked calmer now, eyes closed, your lips pressed together while the hand on his shoulder still grasped his shirt. The sight made him take in a deep breath. The way you were close to him, the way your body arched towards him and your pelvis rubbed against his.
After a minute, he eased his hands away. “That should help,” he said softly. “Don’t overdo it for the rest of practice, okay?”
You straightened slowly, testing your leg, then smiled. “Oh wow, it actually helped!"
Before he could respond, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”
Then you stood up and walked away, waving over your shoulder.
Intak sat there for a long moment, cheek warm, heart pounding, staring at the empty space where you had been, wondering how something so simple had left him feeling completely undone.
Soul
The dorm was loud in the comfortable way, the kind of noise made from shared space and no real plans. Someone had connected the console, the TV glowed with bright colors, and Mario Kart music filled the room. Snacks sat half-open on the table, forgotten as the race countdown echoed.
You perched yourself on the armrest of the couch, controller gripped tightly in both hands. “I got it this time,” you muttered, eyes locked on the screen. You leaned to the left and right with every turn, twisting the controller like it might magically help.
Soul sat just beneath you on the couch, one leg tucked up, controller resting loosely in his hands. He was not as invested in the race as you were. Instead, he watched you with quiet amusement, eyes following the way you leaned dramatically into every corner, brows furrowed in serious concentration.
“You know the controller doesn’t actually steer like that,” someone teased.
“Shut up,” you said quickly. “I know what I'm doing.”
Soul smiled faintly, small and private.
The race ended badly for you. Your character spun out just before the finish line, and you groaned, leaning sharply to the right in exaggerated defeat. You leaned too far.
The armrest slipped out from under you, and suddenly you were sliding down, momentum carrying you straight into Soul’s lap.
He startled for half a second, eyes widening, before instinct kicked in. One arm came around you immediately, steady and protective, keeping you from tipping any further.
You laughed, breathless. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry.”
“D-Don't worry,” he said quickly, voice soft, almost automatic.
You tried to get up, shifting forward, but the familiar countdown sound started again.
“Next race! Next race!” someone yelled.
You paused, glanced at the screen, then back at Soul. “I’ll just—one more,” you said, already settling back. You turned slightly in his lap so you could face the TV better, completely focused again.
Soul did not move.
He sat very still, arm still loosely around you, unsure if removing it would draw attention. His face warmed, not dramatically, but enough that he hoped the dim lighting hid it. He tried to look normal, calm, like this was not affecting him at all.
The race started, and you leaned forward eagerly, shifting as you followed every turn. He could sense how tense you were, a fact that didn't improve his situation. Every time you moved the controller in your hands, your pelvis seemed to move with it. Your ass tensed, and Souls' eyes widened for a moment.
Red shell. Boost pad. Sharp turn.
He told himself to focus. He told himself this was fine.
It became harder with every second.
You shifted again, knees pressing lightly against him as you twisted the controller. Soul’s grip tightened just a little, more reflex than intention, grounding himself. He adjusted his posture carefully, hoping no one noticed how quiet he had gone.
“Come on, come on,” you whispered urgently as you neared the finish line.
When you crossed it in first place, you gasped, then threw your arms up in triumph. “Yes!”
In your excitement, you leaned back without thinking, sinking comfortably against him as you celebrated. Soul let out a laugh, a little louder than usual, hoping it sounded natural. His heart was racing, but he kept his expression light, casual.
“Woohoo nice,” he said. “You finally won.”
You grinned, still energized, then finally stood up, completely unaware of the internal battle you left behind.
Soul stayed seated, controller idle in his hands, breathing slowly until his nerves settled. On the outside, he looked calm, maybe even amused.
Inside, he knew one thing for sure.
Mario Kart was officially dangerous.
Jongseob
The living room buzzed with easy laughter, the kind that only showed up when everyone was relaxed and nostalgic. Keeho stood in the middle of the room, phone held up proudly as a video played on his screen.
“Okay, wait, wait,” he said, already laughing before anything even happened. “This part is the best.”
Jongseob sat on a chair slightly off to the side, hands folded loosely in his lap, eyes lifted toward the phone. You stood next to him, leaning in to see the screen as the video jumped between shaky clips of beaches, poorly framed selfies, and candid moments from their last holiday.
You squinted.
“Why is it so small?” you muttered, leaning closer. “I swear my eyesight gets worse every year.”
Jongseob glanced up at you, a little confused. “You can’t see it?”
“Not really,” you said, frustration creeping in as the video continued and everyone else burst into laughter. “Can you… make some room or something?”
He blinked. “Uh—”
You sighed, clearly done trying to angle yourself awkwardly, and before he could fully process your words, you turned and sat down in his lap.
Jongseob’s breath vanished.
His hands froze where they were, fingers curling slightly against his pants as his brain scrambled to catch up. You settled there naturally, like it was the most obvious solution in the world, adjusting just enough to get a better view of Keeho’s phone.
“Yes, way better,” you said, satisfied.
Keeho kept talking, completely oblivious. “Look at this,” he said, zooming in. “It's like a Reality Show”
Laughter filled the room again. You laughed too, bright and unrestrained, shoulders shaking slightly with the sound. The movement sent a jolt othrough Jongseobs body, and he held his breath, heart pounding hard against his chest.
He stared at the phone with intense focus, as if concentrating hard enough might steady his thoughts. He told himself to breathe normally. To relax. To act like this was not affecting him at all.
It was affecting him.
As the video continued, you shifted in his lap, leaning forward a little to see better when Keeho moved the phone. Your posture tensed slightly to avoid slipping off his lap, your back arched slightly so he had the perfect view of your waist and your beautiful butt.
The chair creaked softly. Jongseob reacted on instinct, one hand lifting carefully to your side to keep you from slipping.
His touch was light, almost hesitant.
“Careful,” he said quietly.
“Thanks,” you replied without looking back, still focused on the screen.
A second later, you placed your hand over his, anchoring yourself without thinking. The contact made his face heat instantly, cheeks burning as he stared straight ahead, absolutely certain that everyone could see how red he had gone.
He did not move his hand.
The room filled with more laughter as the video reached its end. Someone wiped tears from their eyes. Keeho bowed dramatically. “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all week.”
You laughed again, leaning back slightly, comfortable and unbothered. Jongseob exhaled slowly, carefully, reminding himself that he was fine, that this was fine, that he was not losing his composure.
When the video ended and the attention shifted elsewhere, you finally stood up. “Okay, that was worth it,” you said cheerfully. “My eyes thank you.”
Jongseob nodded, forcing a small smile. “Anytime.”
As you walked away, completely unaware, he sat there for a moment longer, heart still racing, hands resting where you had left them, wondering how something so simple had managed to throw him off balance so completely.