soobin lets you slide onto him while he’s soft so you can feel him slowly grow hard inside you.
❛ content 2.8k words, 18+ [ MDNI! ], explicit sexual content, power bottom!male reader, nerd!soobin, getting hard while inside, big dick!soobin, unprotected sex (p in a), cockwarming kinda, riding, creampie, praise, lots of kisses.
"can we put it in soft and feel it grow together?"
the question hangs in the air of soobin's dimly lit room, completely severing the comfortable silence that had settled over them like a well-worn blanket.
soobin's pen freezes mid-annotation over his biology textbook, and for a solid three seconds, or maybe just a little more, his brain — usually so quick, so sharp when it came to memorizing diagrams and reciting historical dates — completely short-circuits.
he hears your words, processes each one individually, but putting them together into a coherent concept feels like trying to solve a calculus problem underwater.
beside him, you're already wiggling with barely contained excitement, your phone abandoned face-down on the mattress. you're watching your boyfriend with those eager eyes, waiting, practically vibrating.
soobin slowly turns his head, and he can feel the heat creeping up his neck, flooding his cheeks. his glasses have slid down his pretty nose slightly, and he pushes them up with one finger, a nervous habit.
"what?!"
but you're already leaning into him, your hand finding his knee through the soft gray fabric of his sweatpants.
"i'm serious! think about it, babe."
your voice is that special kind of excited, the one soobin usually hears when you're explaining a new game you're completely obsessed with or suggesting a takeout place you've been dying to try.
"we've never done it like that. it's always, you know... we're both already hard, and it's kind of rushed and intense. but this..." you squeeze his knee, your thumb tracing a small circle. "this would be different. slower. we could just... be together. and feel everything."
soobin's heart is doing something erratic in his chest.
he's still holding his pen, still surrounded by highlighters and flashcards, and his ridiculously attractive boyfriend is sitting on his bed, talking about his dick like it's the most natural thing in the world. which, okay, it is, they've been together for eight months, they're past the awkward stage. but this is... new.
"you want to..." soobin swallows, his throat suddenly dry. he glances down at his own lap, then back at you, his cheeks impossibly pinker. "you want to sit on it? while it's... you know?"
"soft, yeah."
you nod enthusiastically, scooting closer, and your thigh presses against his.
"i just keep thinking about what it would feel like. the sensation of it... waking up inside me. getting harder because of me, because of us," your voice drops a little, losing some of its excited energy and gaining something warmer, something more intimate. "i think it would feel really good, babe. really close."
and that's the thing.
soobin has never been able to deny you anything when you look at him like that, when your voice goes soft and you say his name like it means something more than just letters strung together. he's completely, utterly gone for you, and you know it. you use that power sometimes, but never cruelly. always like this — to pull him closer, to bring him into a moment with you.
he sets his pen down carefully, marking his place in the textbook with a sticky note; a small, practical gesture that's so distinctly him that it makes your heart clench.
"you really want to?" soobin asks softly, his voice quieter now, a little shy.
"yeah, more than anything right now," you admit, and it's the truth.
the textbook, the phone, the outside world — it's all completely faded away. there is just soobin, in his ridiculously soft-looking oversized white t-shirt and those grey sweatpants that you've told him a hundred times should be illegal, his dark hair falling over his forehead, his glasses framing those warm, curious eyes that are currently fixed entirely on you.
soobin bites his lower lip, a telltale sign that he's thinking, he's considering. then, slowly, he shifts on the bed, putting his textbook on the nightstand. he leans back against the headboard, the wood creaking softly, and his long legs stretch out, then bend slightly, creating a space for you, an invitation.
"okay," he breathes out, the word carrying a mix of nervousness and genuine curiosity. "let's... let's try."
and oh, you don't need to be told twice.
you're moving immediately, crawling over the messy comforter to settle between your boyfriend’s legs. soobin watches you, his hands coming up to softly rest on your hips as you straddle him, your knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his thighs.
you're face to face now, close enough to see the tiny mole under his eye, the way his eyelashes flutter.
"hi," you whisper, a stupid, giddy smile spreading across your face.
a matching smile tugs at soobin's lips, despite his obvious embarrassment.
"hi," he whispers back. his hands are warm through the thin fabric of your pajama pants. "this is so weird."
"good weird or bad weird?"
"just... weird. different."
soobin ducks his head slightly, looking at where your bodies meet, at the tentatively interested bulge in his own pants that's nowhere near full attention.
"are you sure you're gonna be comfortable? what if—"
you cut him off with a kiss; it's soft, just a brush of lips, simply meant to soothe.
"we'll go slow. if it's weird or uncomfortable, we can just stop. okay?"
soobin nods against your mouth. "okay."
you kiss him again, deeper this time, and you feel his huge hands tighten on your hips. you rock forward experimentally, just a small shift of weight, and soobin makes a tiny sound against your lips.
you break the kiss to sit back slightly, your hands finding the hem of his oversized t-shirt. "can i?"
soobin lifts his arms without a word, and you pull the shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere behind you, and your breath catches, like it always does.
you've already seen him naked countless times, but the sight of his pretty bare chest, the smooth expanse of pale skin, the subtle definition of muscle from carrying heavy books and the occasional gym session with his friends — it never gets old. he's beautiful in a way that feels accidental, unassuming.
soobin doesn't seem to fully realize how hot he is, and that, somehow, makes him even hotter.
your fingers find the waistband of his sweatpants, and you look at him for permission. once again, soobin gives a small, shy nod. you tug them down, along with his boxers, just enough. his cock lies soft against his thigh, and you feel a fresh wave of heat pool in your stomach. it's still him, still soobin, still the part of him that makes you feel so incredibly full and complete.
it's just... resting.
you shimmy out of your own pajama pants and boxers quickly, not wanting to break the moment. when you settle back on his lap, it's skin-to-skin, his soft length pressed against the curve of your ass. soobin hisses in a breath, his fingers digging into your hips.
you position yourself carefully, one hand on soobin’s shoulder for balance, the other reaching down to guide him. your eyes meet his.
"ready?"
he looks terrified and thrilled in equal measure.
"ready."
you shift your weight, lowering yourself slowly. the head of soobin’s soft cock presses against your entrance, and for a moment, it just... sits there. it's an odd sensation, really — the familiar pressure, but without the familiar hardness. it feels almost impossibly soft, pliable.
you take a breath and push down gently.
the slide is different; way slower. there is no resistance in the same way, because he's soft, but your body still has to accommodate his size. even soft, soobin is... well, considerable. you feel yourself stretching around him, taking him in inch by inch, and the sensation is so unique, so new, that a shaky moan escapes your lips.
soobin's eyes are wide.
"oh," he breathes. "oh, wow."
"you okay?" you manage to ask, pausing when you're about halfway seated.
soobin nods frantically, his hands softly stroking up and down your sides.
"y-yeah. it's just... it feels so warm, and so tight. but it's also different. it's like... i can feel everything. i can feel every part of you."
you lower yourself the rest of the way, and then you're fully seated, his soft cock buried completely inside you. you sit there for a moment, just breathing, just feeling; the weight of him, the fullness, the strange, intimate knowledge that he's inside you but not hard inside you.
it's like a secret, a moment stolen from time.
you're both still for a long, breathless moment. soobin's hands are splayed across your lower back, warm and grounding, and you can feel his heartbeat, or maybe it's yours — it's hard to tell anymore when you're this close.
"how does it feel?" you whisper, your forehead resting against his.
"warm," he repeats, his voice soft with wonder. "and... tight. but it's like..." he struggles for words, his brow furrowing adorably. "it's like i can feel you holding me. not like... fucking. just holding."
you smile, pressing a gentle kiss to soobin’s lips.
"yeah. that's what i wanted."
you start to move, but not in any real rhythm.
just small, subtle shifts of your hips. you were rocking, more than anything, simply testing the sensation. with each tiny movement, you feel him, soft and pliant, moving inside you, and it's incredibly intimate in a way you hadn't tully anticipated.
soobin's hands roam your back, your sides, his touch full of reverence. your boyfriend is looking at you like you're something so precious, something he can't quite believe is real. his cheeks are still flushed that pretty pink you love so much, his lips slightly parted.
"you're so beautiful," he murmurs, almost to himself.
you feel a flutter of warmth in your chest that has nothing to do with where you're connected.
"so are you."
you kiss him again, deeper this time. your tongue slides against his, slow and exploratory, and soobin’s hands come up to cup your face, holding you close. the kiss deepens, becomes more urgent, more hungry. you feel his hips twitch beneath you, a small, unconscious thrust.
and then, finally, you feel it — the slightest change; a thickening, a growing weight inside you. you gasp against his mouth at the very new sensation, pulling back just enough to look at him.
soobin’s eyes are hazy, his pupils blown wide.
"soobin," you breathe. "i can feel you."
he looks down, as if he could see through both your bodies to where they're joined.
"it's you," soobin whispers, his voice wrecked. "it's because of you. you feel so good."
another small, unconscious thrust. another surge of growth. soobin’s cock is filling out inside you, pressing against your walls in a way it couldn't when it was soft. the sensation is really overwhelming — the gradual stretch, the increasing fullness… you can feel every ridge, every vein as they become more pronounced.
you can feel soobin getting harder because of you, because of the way your body is wrapped around him, because of the kisses, because of the closeness.
"oh—my god," soobin pathetically whimpers, his head falling back against the headboard. his hands grip your hips tighter, his knuckles white. "oh my god, that feels... that feels so..."
"i know," you groan, and you start to move with more purpose now, rolling your hips in a slow circle. each movement seems to encourage him, to draw more blood, more hardness. "i can feel every second of it. you're getting so hard inside me, babe."
soobin makes a sound that's somewhere between a moan and a whine, high-pitched and desperate.
"d-don't stop. please don't stop."
you don't. you keep moving, keep kissing him, keep whispering praise against his lips.
"feel how good you feel. feel how perfectly you fit."
"i can't—" soobin cuts himself off with another whine, his hips starting to thrust up in small, jerky movements that meet your rolls. "it's too much. it feels too good."
"it's not too much," you assure him, your hand coming up to card through his soft hair, pushing it back from his forehead. "you're doing so well. just feel it. feel me."
soobin is fully hard now, thick and heavy inside you, and the transition from soft to hard has left you both breathless and shaking. you've never experienced anything like it — the gradual, inexorable filling, the knowledge that his arousal is a direct response to you, to this moment. it's really intoxicating.
"i wanna move," soobin begs, his voice cracking. "please, baby, please can i move? i need—i need to—"
you simply nod, unable to form words properly. you lift yourself slightly, and soobin thrusts up, a real thrust this time, deep and sure. you both moan, the sound mingling in the small space between you.
"y-yeah," you gasp. "like that. just like that—"
soobin sets a rhythm, slow at first, still overwhelmed by the newness of it all. his thrusts are deep, deliberate, each one punching a soft sound from your lips, and his hands are everywhere — your hips, your back, your face.
he can't stop touching you, can't stop looking at you.
"you're so perfect," soobin babbles, his words tumbling out between kisses and pretty moans. "so perfect for me. i love you so much. i love being inside you. i love—ah!—i love feeling you."
you capture his mouth with yours, swallowing his words, his every sounds. you simply love him like this — open, vulnerable, completely undone by you. the pretty nerd who annotates his textbooks and makes color-coded study guides, reduced to a whining, desperate mess because of how you feel around him.
you start to meet his thrusts, matching his rhythm, making it deeper and harder. the bed creaks beneath you, the sound joining the wet, obscene noises of your bodies coming together.
"i'm close," soobin warns, his voice tight.
he's gripping you so hard you know there will be bruises tomorrow, and you can't bring yourself to care.
"i'm so close, baby, where do you want—"
"inside," you moans. "stay inside—wanna feel you come inside me."
soobin’s eyes roll back slightly at your words, and his thrusts become erratic, losing their rhythm. he's chasing his release, but he's also watching you, making sure you're with him. your boyfriend’s hand snakes down between your bodies, finding your cock, stroking you in time with his thrusts.
it only takes a few more strokes; you come with a broken cry of his name, your body clenching around him, and that's all it takes to push soobin over the edge. he follows with a desperate, high-pitched moan, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you, hot and deep.
for a long moment, neither of you moves.
you're both breathing hard, foreheads pressed together, sharing the same humid air. soobin's hands are still on you, but they've gone soft, just resting.
right now, you can feel him softening inside you, the reverse of the sensation from before, and it's just as incredible in its own way.
finally, you shift, wincing slightly at the oversensitivity, and soobin's hands immediately try to hold you still.
"wait," he murmurs. "just... wait a second. i'm not ready to not be inside you yet."
you smile, pressing a kiss to his nose.
"okay."
you simply stay like that for a long time, connected, breathing together. soobin’s thumbs trace absent patterns on your skin, and your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck.
the room slowly cools around you, but you're both warm, wrapped up in each other.
"that was..." he trails off, searching for the right word.
"incredible?" you offer.
"yeah," soobin laughs softly, a little puff of air against your lips. "incredible. you always have the best ideas."
"i know," you tease, but you're smiling too.
eventually, you have to move.
the practicalities of cleanup, of bodily functions, of reality intruding on the perfect bubble you've created. but even as you disentangle yourselves, even as soobin disappears into his attached bathroom and returns with a warm, damp washcloth to clean you both with gentle, careful hands, the intimacy doesn't break.
when you finally settle back into bed, both of you having pulled on fresh boxers, soobin immediately pulls you against his chest. he's warm and solid, and you can feel his heartbeat, still slightly elevated, against your cheek.
"so," you mumble against his skin. "worth interrupting your study session?"
soobin laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest.
"my biology textbook can wait. this was..." he pauses, and you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head. "this was the best kind of practical application."
you snort, elbowing him gently. "such a nerd."
the room falls into a comfortable silence, the kind that only comes after moments of profound intimacy.
outside, the city continues its endless hum.
inside, in soobin's small, cluttered bedroom, there's just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, sated and sleepy and utterly, completely in love.
Summary: Your boyfriend — despite being naturally leading, is pretty submissive in bed. It comes as quite a shock when he decides to take control once but who are you to say no?
⤷ smut!!! p in v, softdom!soobin. established relationship. soobin spits in and on you a couple times. lowk size kink. big dick!soobin agenda. few praises thrown in.
a/n: fem!reader (afab so implied), inspired by my dream & requested kinda 🫡 soobin nation rise up. not proof read ><
Being intimate with Soobin has never felt this heavy and hot. His bigger, more intimidating frame easily envelops your body and naturally leads the progress of your connection. You’re not sure when you ended up in his lap, swallowed by his broad stature as you struggle to keep up with the prodding tongue exploring your mouth. Your heart is dizzy with lust-fuelled excitement and your stomach starts to clench and sends sparks of passion towards your lower body. Your hips rock subconsciously against his own as you chase relief for the pressure that’s built up in your sensitive clit from his actions.
You’re practically panting as Soobin continues his ministrations. The usually passive and quite submissive man clings to you needingly, pressing his mouth against yours in a clash of teeth and tongues as if trying to prove a point to someone in his head.
Your hands which dig into the skin as the base of his neck falter and squeeze at the wisps of hair as he pushes you impossibly closer by the small of your back. Your lips disconnect slightly so his hot, heavy tongue can lick a daring stripe from your neck to just above your jaw.
You can’t help but whimper at the feeling. You feel like you’re going insane as Soobin continues to have his way with you. It’s not like Soobin to practically jump on you and have you sit pretty in his lap as he does what he wants to you. Usually, he’s staring at you with eyes blown large with desire as he asks you want you want him to do. What he can do to make you feel so good. Usually the control over someone so much larger than you makes your legs clench but the way Soobin is practically treating you like a doll has you drenched in a way you didn’t think was ever possible.
“Mhmph — Soobin!” You mewl as he presses heavy kisses against your cheek, travelling up your face to press them into your hairline before he lands back at your mouth. He snakes a hand from the small of your back to clench your chin between fingers, pulling his face back so he can stare at you with dark eyes. You swear your eyes almost roll to the back of your head at the sight of his plush, bruised lip. They’re slick with saliva and a small string still connects your lips.
He breathes heavily but the way you’re panting at having your breath stolen from you is undeniably hot to both of you. Your hands slip from his neck to hold his broad shoulders. You must look crazed — hair messy and lips swollen from the nips caused by Soobin.
“What’s gotten into you?” You question under pants, eyes darting around your boyfriend’s face. His hooded eyes drink in the details of your wrecked face. Soft eyes, furrowed brows and parted, kiss bitten red lips that glisten under the dull light in the bedroom like a crude layer of lipgloss. Soobin’s dick twitches at the sight.
“Need you.” Soobin mutters honestly as his hand drops from your chin. You swallow thickly before letting out a small puff in surprise as Soobin swiftly scoots back to lay you flat against the bed. Your stomach flutters as he easily manhandles you in a pliant position he wants to see you in.
“H-Hah..” You exhale shakily as Soobin’s hand runs down your body. His large plans envelope your tits, squeezing and pushing them together under the fabric of your top. He uses his thumbs to rub over the protruding tips, revelling in the way you shiver and bite your lip at the feeling. Your legs greedily rub together, ignoring how your knees knock into his legs and give away what you’re doing.
Wriggling and twisting, you reach after his touch. He curses as his hands trail further down your body until he reaches the hem of your shirt. His head dips as he pushes the material up, lips pressing wet searing kisses to the exposed skin of your torso. When he lifts away to press more, tongue darting to lap at the skin, the cool air causes a nipping sensation that makes your back arch.
Your head falls further back into the pillows as your hands grasp at the sheets. Soobin pushes your shirt up to the point it bunches over the swell of your breasts, pert nipples facing the cool air without much cover. Your legs press together as his head rounds up to the flesh of your tits. His tongue leaves a hot trail of desire, mapping his ministrations as he finally targets your breasts. He swirls the tongue around the perky bud, lips suctioning down as his teeth graze at the sensitive surface. You mewl and yelp as his other hand comes to twist at the neglected nipple.
“A-Ah, Soobin..” You moan wantonly, back arching and twisting. You try to pull away from the pinching of your right nipple but it leads you to push against Soobin’s face causing his teeth to dig into the soft flesh. You hiss and mewl as you feel yourself become more needy at the opposite sensations.
“So needy.” Soobin mumbles around the flesh as he moves to suck the skin just under your areola. You seizes his pinching to lightly roll over the bud with his thumb. You sigh as he separates from your tit with a soft ‘pop!’
The skin presents with a slight red tint. Soobin exhales as he realises the mark will slowly darken over time.
You release your hands from the sheets to weave your fingers into Soobin’s dark strands. He follows your lead until his face connects with your again. Your lips jut into a pout as you motion for him to meet you halfway with another kiss but he stills despite the pull on his hair.
“Jus’ kiss me, already.” You whine, feeling slightly lightheaded by the change in dynamic. Soobin’s lip flips into a smirk at one corner, the expression sends a flutter straight to your cunt. He leans in and presses a soft kiss against your lips.
You relish in the soft kiss. It’s different from what he’s inflicted upon you tonight.
He pulls away softly and his eyes almost seem a little lighter. They’re still clouded with unwavering desire but his expression seems just a fraction smaller.
“..My beautiful baby.” Soobin practically whispers as his eyes take in the features of your face. You turn hot under the appreciation. Soobin presses a soft kiss against your jawline, eyes dazzling with love.
“Soobin..” You whine with embarrassment laced into your words, “Just fuck me already.”
If the room wasn’t hot before it was hot now. As soon as the plea left your mouth Soobin was stripping his shirt and unbuckling his belt. The visual of the taller man sat on his knees above you as his belt clacked and jiggled as he whipped it off and threw the accessory to the side with a metallic thud made your thighs clench. The way his brows furrowed slightly as the belt fumbled a little and the groan of relief once he was able to undo it and throw it to the side made the everyday action just a little hotter.
You shuffle and pull yourself up to fully take off the shirt that was uncomfortably bunched around your chest. Soobin’s eyes shamelessly stare at your tits as they shake a little when you readjust the strands of hair that fell into your face.
“Shit. Baby. Let me eat you out.” Soobin asks as he hurriedly pushes his trousers around his ankles. If you weren’t so turned on you’d probably laugh at how he swears when the material bunches on his thighs and he’s forced to hop off the bed to fully take the denim off. The strain of his cock against the black material of his Calvin Klein’s makes whatever humour die in the back of your head as you zone in on the print.
“Jus’ need you in me.” You reply earnestly. Soobin crawls back on the bed, leaning over you like predator to prey. His eyes meet yours softly, “I’ve been dying to taste you, baby.”
You almost moan at his words. Soobin uses a hand to trace your features with delicate fingers. Your hand raises to softly hold at the hand. Not to stop him but just to simply touch him.
“I just need your cock, ‘Bin.” You say it so easily Soobin feels himself twitch in his underwear. The fingers tracing your lips lead themselves to your lips, slightly pressing down on the pink flesh to open your mouth silently. You let him use you, opening your mouth so he can press down on your tongue.
“Get my fingers wet, my love.” Soobin hums as he zones in on the way your tongue twirls over the long digits. He wills himself to not teasingly press a little deeper. If he was feeling a little meaner maybe he’d see how far he could go before you gag against the prodding digits. He hooks a thumb on your chin so he can rub his pointer and middle fingers against your tongue.
You hum, voice bordering on a whine as your mouth salivates from his actions and face alone. Soobin pulls his fingers away but taps on your lips to tell you to keep your mouth open. You flinch a little when he spits but you can’t help but smile when the droplet of saliva lands on your tongue neatly. He dips his fingers back in to scoop it up and really coat his fingers.
He lets you breathe when he pulls away. You swallow thickly as Soobin shifts his attention to your needy cunt. The cool sensation of his fingers prodding as your hot, gushing pussy is enough to make your eyes roll back. He circles your clit a few times — the way you like — before dipping the tips of his fingers into your needy hole. He glances up to gage your reaction before pushing in his fingers, wiggling a little to ease them in.
“Didn’t even need you to drool all over my fingers.” Soobin laughs a little as your mouth falls open. You let out a breathy exhale as he scissors you open, fingers slowly spreading against your gummy walls to get you used to the feeling.
“Ha-ah, told you I need you.” You retort as your fingers curl against the sheets. Soobin hums and bends his head so he can leave a small kiss at the top of your thigh. The muscle twitches at the sensation but the loving action next to the pumping of his fingers makes your stomach feel warm and fuzzy.
It’s not long before the usual dirty sound of squelching fills the air. Soobin manages to wiggle in a third finger despite your little huffs when it stings as he introduces the third. He hums as he shifts back on his knees so he can use his other hand to circle at your clit.
Your thighs begin to shake a little. Your head lolls back as you whimper. Soobin’s long fingers and strikingly ability to find the spot that makes you see stars is a lethal combo, but one that makes you moan like a bitch in heat.
“Soob, ‘m gonna cum.” You warn. Soobin continues, twisting his fingers just slightly as he rubs a little faster on your clit. You should be embarrassed at the wet sloshing sound that fills the room but you can’t focus on it when the familiar warm tugging sensation starts to pull in your lower stomach.
“Gonna cum for me?” Soobin asks as he looks at your face. Your hair is disheveled from throwing your head back but it falls around your head like a halo. He presses a fingers a little harder against the spongy spot inside your cunt as he continues to coo little praises that makes your walls clench against the fingers.
“Pretty baby.” Soobin cooes as you cum. Your back arches with your pretty tits pointing perkily to the air. Soobin wills himself to not grab at the flesh as he continues to slowly pump his fingers in your squishy walls to help you ride out the orgasm. Your hips chase after the fading sensation before eventually stopping.
Soobin takes the signal to slowly detach his fingers from your cunt. Your pussy clenches as he pulls out.
Your head feels dizzy as you turn your head to look at your boyfriend. He’s slowly peeling the elastic band of his boxers away from his hips. You’d offer to help if you weren’t still a little breathless from whining for Soobin to keep going.
He rolls the material down his thighs. His quads tighten as his hand wraps around the base of his cock. He uses the juices from the hand he used to finger you to spread it across the sensitive skin.
He hisses at the contact. Despite being sexually active Soobin still swears he feels like he could cum from one touch alone as he looks at your body. He feels like a dam teenager who just got their hands on their first porn mag as he drinks in your vulgar position.
“Roll over for me, baby.” Soobin commands. You nod, slowly rolling yourself over so you can plant yourself on your hands and knees. It used to feel embarrassing to present yourself so freely to Soobin but you’ve gotten used to this man and his libido to realise he’s way to horny to care for slight imperfections you’ve decided you’ve got in your head.
Your back arches as Soobin places a palm on the skin of your ass. You feel the bed dip as he shuffles forward, stomach clenching when the head of his cock taps against your weeping hole.
You hear Soobin inhale before pausing. He shifts backwards before a hot, wet trail of liquid meet your puffy lips. The needy moan that erupts from your mouth when you realise Soobin’s spat on you again — specifically your pussy, turns you on immensely.
“Tell me if it hurts.” Soobin comments as he guides his cock with his hand. He use the fleshy tip to spread the wetness over your folds, gathering them on the bulbous tip so it makes it easier for him to press into your fluttering hole.
The hand on the palm of your ass smooths to your lower back. You instinctively arch further into the mattress, proving him a better view of your messy pussy. He groans as he presses in, relishing in the way your wet cunt immediately sucks him in.
The stinging is delicious. The way the tears poke at your eyes as you clench them shut would make Soobin cum on the spot if he could see your face. You press your face into the pillows, gasping as he inches in slowly.
“Doing okay, love?” Soobin asks as he stops halfway. You nod against the pillow, biting your lip to swallow any hisses. The stretch does burn but the reward after is too enticing to stop him. Soobin leans forward a bit, accidentally pushing in more as he tries to catch a glance of your face, “Words, baby.”
“G-Good! Keep going, Soob. Need it bad!” You squeal as he inches in more. Your legs want to flail but you ground yourself by biting at the pillow you’ve forced your head into.
Soobin bottoms out swiftly. The base of his hips sit snug against your ass as he allows you a moment to breathe. The way your walls clench rapidly around his cock makes the hand on your back slip to grab at your waist. He holds the flesh firmly between his fingers.
“‘M gonna cum if you keep doing that.” He confesses breathlessly. You whimper out an apology as you try to calm your racing heart.
“Move. It’s okay.” You give Soobin the green light to move.
He rocks his hips slowly. Your eyes almost roll back at how big he is. Soobin doesn’t seem to understand that he is bigger than average because the amount of times you have to tell him he can’t just jackhammer into you from start to finish is astonishing. He doesn’t seem to understand that you barely squeeze him into your cunt before he’s almost breaking into your cervix. Poor guy just wants to make you feel good.
He sighs, both hands finding home on your hips as he finds his rhythm. His thighs slap against the back of your legs, filling the void silence in the room as he slowly speeds up.
Your legs shake. His stupidly big cock practically abuses your gspot, punching and drilling it stupid. Even at the slower pace the mushroom tip makes your toes curl like you’re about to cum on the spot.
“Faster!” You command greedily as you press your hips against Soobin’s. Soobin takes your word for it as he begins to press harder, transferring his weight to the grip on your hips so he can thrust harder.
The bruising placement of his hands makes your mouth water. The thought of him leaving imprints of his hands on the soft flesh like a silent marking of ‘Soobin was here.’ is dirtily tantalising.
“Always so tight. You sure you can take me?” Soobin muses as he thrusts harder. The sounds filling the room are a perverts fantasy. Between the sound of slick skin slapping, obscene squelching and pornographic moans alongside the softest dirty talk would have any person sweating.
You pant and wriggle, hips pushing back to meet Soobin. The plush of your ass slaps against the skin of Soobin’s hips leaving soft little stings in its wake. He slides a hand from your hip to messily play with your clit. You cry as he punches hastily, the force of his thrusts making his hand slip and pull at the sensitive skin.
“‘M gonna cum!” You warn as Soobin continues to draw messy figure 8’s on your clit. He pants as he chases the orgasm, legs and arms burning as he wills himself to keep going.
The sweat that was building on his hairline falls down his face in small streaks and he groans as he flicks his head back. The strands of his hair stick to the sweaty skin, casting a shadow across his face.
“Go ahead, love. Come.” Soobin keens when you clamp down a little firmer than usual. The spasms of your sensitive walls leads him to a quicker release but he refuses to come before you do.
You yelp as a specifically hard thrust makes your vision dot “Fuck! Mhmph!! Soobin — Ha-ah, shit!”
“You sound like a pornstar.” Soobin manages to speak past the whiny whimper that escaped him when the first spirt of his cum shoots into your walls. He spews apologies when he can’t hold it back, fucking you like a pocket pussy as he chases his relief.
You’re practically melted onto the sheets when you come. Whether it’s from Soobin’s off handed comment or the searing hot feeling of his cum costing your walls, one last clench around his bulbous cock and you’re cumming like a whiny bitch.
Soobin lets you ride it out despite his sensitive nature. The sounds that escape him are more adjacent to his usual tone during sex, soft and needy. The slamming of his hips has slowed to a rocking pace. You both hiss as his sensitive heads prods at your spongy spot.
“You did.. so good for me.” Soobin exhales faintly. He slowly pulls out and your walls clench uncomfortably at the feeling. His hands detach themselves from your body as you fully embrace the soft bedding below you. Getting caught up in the heat of the moment made you forget about how hot you are. The warm flush radiates form your body as you both separate for cool air.
You shift, turning so you can face Soobin. He settles against the pillow next to you, facing the ceiling as he catches his breath.
“What got into you?” You ask with a trace of a laugh. Soobin snickers as he rolls his neck softly. He just shrugs.
the four times tubatu didn't realise their maknae had a real girlfriend and the one unfortunate time that they did
pairing : hueningkai x fem!reader
word count : 10.7k
warnings : hueningkai is referred to as kai, freaky moments but like its not freaky cause they just kiss ??? but the members thnk they did sm freaky and kai doesn't correc them becuase theyre kinda dumb , dumb but loving txt , reader is describe to be shorter than kai (sorry!) doesnt have to be super short jsut enough to look slightly up at him
playlist : blue by yung kai, echoes by enhypen, honeymoon avenue by kasper, roller coster by tomorrow x together , dance with you by tomorrow x together , i love u by yuni
author's note: we need to normalize calling men pet names cause wtf am i supposoed to address them as but its okay i love hueningkai hes so cutesy + wrote this instead of studying for my math exam tomorrow 〒▽〒
Kai Kamal Huening wasn’t good at hiding secrets.
It was something his sisters never let him forget—especially when he accidentally let it slip that a boy had been talking to them, right in the middle of family dinner.
Kai would only shrug in response, because it always ended the same way anyway: with him being rewarded with extra gummies for dessert.
It was a trait he had kept into adulthood, mostly because he found lying to be far too much effort.
But times had changed.
Kai had changed.
He was no longer the little boy who played the recorder while his sisters ‘traded’ his plushies for one of their uglier ones.
He was a man now—one who still played the recorder, but who also got to keep all his plushies to himself. And somehow, impossibly, he had something no one in his life ever thought he would have: a girlfriend.
Him having a girlfriend wasn’t entirely out of this world, but it was something everyone around him seemed convinced he couldn’t manage.
Maybe it was his lack of social activity.
Maybe it was his tendency to stay in his room.
Maybe it was his complete disregard for “trendy clothing.”
Regardless of all these very real factors, Kai had managed to get a girlfriend—you, to be specific.
He had met you on one of the rare occasions he decided to go on a solo trip around Seoul. Everyone else had a schedule that day: Yeonjun was busy working on his solo, Taehyun and Beomgyu were at the gym—mostly because Beomgyu was tired of being thrown around by the members—and Soobin was probably getting lectured about his lack of media training. After all, who publicly admits they can eat a watermelon in three seconds and expects the internet to forget about it?
Which left Kai all alone—and, for once, ready to go outside.
The plan was simple. Kai wanted to visit the café down the street from the HYBE building that had been temporarily converted into a Pokémon lover’s dream. While the fact that it was a manga café by design had always interested him, it wasn’t until the Pokémon theme that finally pushed him to go.
Which is exactly what he did.
Kai messaged his manager, put on his mask, and embarked on his journey.
The walk there was about as nice as a walk could get. The weather was good, his playlist was playing every song he wanted it to, and—most importantly—he hadn’t stepped in dog shit yet.
All in all, it was pretty good.
It was safe to say Kai was in a good mood when he stepped into the café.
Only for his good mood to be ruined by a sign plastered across the cashier area that read, with zero remorse: Out of Pokémon Trinkets / Merch.
Kai couldn’t help but slump in on himself.
He sighed as he checked the time on his phone. It was 3:24 in the afternoon, which meant that if he made the fourteen-minute walk back to HYBE now, he’d be stuck doing work—something he very much did not want to be doing.
Which left him with only one option: to suck it up and enjoy the ambience of the café.
It wasn’t as if he was deprived of Pokémon merchandise, or that this was his only chance. He was an idol, for crying out loud—he’d been to the Pokémon Center more times than he could count. Still, he had to admit it would’ve been fun to get something from a place just down the street from HYBE.
Kai allowed himself to wander into the café, taking in the posters plastered on the walls and the cute Pokémon-themed drink series.
He figured he should probably find something to do before ordering a drink—he didn’t want to risk juggling one hand holding a drink while the other flipped through manga, something he had learned inevitably ended with at least one item hitting the floor.
Which left him wandering into one of the aisles lined with manga. He soon found himself scanning for Gintama, a familiar favorite.
Kai walked up and down the aisle, hoping to see the familiar spine.
Kai was so focused on finding his manga that he didn’t notice he wasn’t the only one in the aisle. He didn’t realize you were only four steps away—until he walked right into you and sent your drink spilling all over his hoodie.
He looked down at his comfiest blue hoodie, now soaked in iced coffee.
“Oh—oh my gosh!” you exclaimed. “I’m so sorry!”
Kai froze, trying to understand what was happening. He watched you pull your purse forward and dig for napkins, a small smile of relief appearing once you found some. He hesitated, unsure if he should say anything as you raised the napkins toward him, silently asking if it was okay to touch his hoodie.
You were pretty, really pretty.
Which made him want to curl up in a ball and never leave his room again because the one time he did he made an absolute fool of himself in front of the prettiest girl he had ever seen.
You cleared your throat, shaking the tissues as a reminder of the situation, snapping Kai back to reality. He quickly grabbed them from your hands and started dabbing at his hoodie, employing the method Yeonjun had once taught him when he was sixteen and utterly incapable of doing laundry.
“Are you okay?” you asked.
Kai could only nod.
You nodded back.
Kai decided he was finished trying to salvage the hoodie. If the stain survived the wash, it would simply be downgraded to a pyjama hoodie rather than an outdoor one.
You held out your hand, silently gesturing for him to give the tissues back, which he did without a word.
It was then that he truly saw your face for the first time.
His heart skipped. Your mouth slowly formed an ‘o,’ and a spark of recognition lit up your eyes.
Kai couldn’t help but tense. He remembered practicing scenarios like this during media training seminars: if a fan recognizes you in public, you simply say hi, maybe sign something—but never give personal information or take pictures. Stay calm. Stay calm.
And yet, you didn’t react with excitement or demand anything. You simply closed your mouth, quietly took the tissues from him, and held them with that calm, easy grace.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“It’s okay,” you replied.
Kai decided then and there that you were precious—because your voice sounded just as charming as you were.
The two of you stood in that aisle, quiet, each trying to think of something to say.
It was then that he noticed the orange keychain hanging from your purse—a Charmander, to be exact.
“Is that…” he cleared his throat, “the Charmander keychain from the café?”
Your eyes lit up, and Kai silently thanked the fact that his mask hid just how pink he’d gone at the sight of you.
“Yeah!” you exclaimed. “I got it last week, actually!”
You looked at him directly. “Did you get one too?”
Kai shook his head, smiling at how infectious your excitement was. “I wanted to, but they were out of all Pokémon stock by the time I got here.”
He noticed your small frown, as if you were a little disappointed he hadn’t gotten one.
Then, carefully, you unclipped the keychain from your purse. “Here,” you said, holding it out toward him.
Kai’s eyes widened. “Oh… I couldn’t take this—”
“It’s okay,” you said with a small smile. “Consider it an apology for spilling my drink on you. I mean, it’s not every day you spill something on a famous idol.”
Kai nodded, bringing his hands forward to accept the precious gift. “Are you sure?” he found himself asking.
He found himself fumbling with the keychain, looking up to see if you had seen that.
“Take it,” you insisted. “Seriously, just take it.”
He placed it in his pocket, already imagining where he would put it in his room.
Then his eyes drifted to the manga you had been holding before the incident, and he froze at the familiar spine of Gintama.
“Wait… is that Gintama?” he asked, a spark of excitement cutting through his embarrassment. “You like Gintama?”
You nodded, and just like that, the conversation fell into easy territory. The two of you traded favorite arcs and characters, Kai gesturing animatedly, completely forgetting the wet patch on his hoodie, the spilled drink, and even the passing time.
Then his phone rang, and the name on the screen made him groan: Soobin.
“Where the hell have you been?” the voice demanded, half-angry, half-panicked.
Kai shot you a glance. “Uh… just a sec,” he said, still distracted. You smiled and scribbled something on a piece of paper.
“Here,” you said, handing it to him. “You’ll probably need it for… you know, emergencies.”
He looked down. Your number. And even though his stomach did that weird fluttery thing, he couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his face.
“Right. Got it,” he said softly, tucking the paper into his pocket. “I’ll… uh, text you.”
Soobin continued whining in the background, but Kai, manga in hand and Charmander keychain safely pocketed, realized that maybe spilling his hoodie wasn’t the worst thing that could happen on a solo trip to a Pokémon-themed café.
After all, it was where he met his girlfriend.
His girlfriend, who would listen patiently while he ranted about whatever he was watching at the moment.
His girlfriend, who would sit prettily on her couch as he came over to show her something he helped create.
His girlfriend, who, over time, grew bold enough to tease him relentlessly, because in your words, “You're too pretty to not be appreciated.”
Because of you, Kai finally got to do all the “couple things” he had watched Lea gush about on the phone with her friends.
He could hug you whenever he wanted.
He could formally “adopt” plushies together with you.
He could talk about anything he wanted, knowing you’d always listen and respond.
He loved having a girlfriend.
In fact… he loved you.
He told you on your three-month anniversary.
You responded by showing him matching figurines of Plusle and Minun holding hands in a heart-shaped box you’d painted.
Was it quick? Probably.
Did the two of you care? Absolutely not.
It was on your four-month anniversary that you asked the question that made his stomach flip:
“Do your members know about us?”
He watched as you slowly lifted yourself off his chest, the two of you still sprawled on the bed, watching Team Rocket get absolutely destroyed by ten-year-olds.
He hated to admit it, but he always missed you—even if you were only ten centimetres away.
He shook his head, silently saying ‘No’.
“Why not?” you asked.
Kai opened his mouth, then closed it again. The only answer he could come up with was… weird. How do you tell the people who had practically raised you since the age of thirteen that you’re dating at twenty-three? How do you explain to the four people who had traveled the world with you, who had suffered with you, that you were no longer the kid with plushies that they had to take care of? That the kid remained a loser with plushies… but also now made out with the prettiest girl in the world every other weekend?
How do you even begin to explain that?
So all he could manage was, “It just… hasn’t come up in conversation.”
You raised an eyebrow. “And how exactly do you expect it to come up in conversation?”
Kai groaned and let his head fall back. “I don’t know!” he exclaimed dramatically, which made you giggle.
He turned to look at you, voice exasperated, “How do you tell people who’ve taken care of you—and shared diarrhea with you—that you’re suddenly dating someone?”
You made a face. “Too much information,” you muttered.
Kai shrugged. “Besides, what if they don’t like it? It’s not like I can run away from them—I’m legally required to spend the next seven years with them!”
You hummed, weighing his words. Then you moved back to your spot on his chest. “Fine,” you said, “don’t tell them—but don’t hide it from them either.”
Kai nodded.
“They’re important people in your life,” you continued, smiling down at him. “They deserve to know that we’re together.”
Kai nodded again.
You leaned up and planted a soft kiss on his lips—a kiss he gladly returned.
Regardless of his members, Kai simply loved his girlfriend.
THE FIRST TIME: WHY DO YOU HAVE HADILAO ON SPEED DIAL?
Yeonjun loved eating.
When it came to deciding the group’s archetypes, he had claimed the “foodie” title immediately—and no one argued. He would eat anything. Everything.
But he knew his limits. After three consecutive days of takeout, a hand-made meal became necessary—even if it meant risking death by Taehyun’s glare. And he knew every other member shared this belief.
Which was why he was utterly confused when he saw the maknae frantically searching for the fastest route to Haidilao from their photoshoot location.
It was a photoshoot for something—he wasn’t exactly sure what—but all Yeonjun had to do was pose and post it on Instagram. Simple enough.
And yet, there was the maknae, plotting a route to hotpot like his life depended on it.
There was nothing wrong with it. It was just… peculiar. Yeonjun could have sworn Kai had gone to Haidilao three days ago. And wasn’t he supposed to be dieting?
He narrowed his eyes at the maknae, trying to decipher the master plan.
“Hyung?” Kai’s voice broke him out of his trance.
Yeonjun blinked, looking up. “What?”
Kai shook his head, smirking. “Why are you looking at me like I drew three-dot YJ again?”
Yeonjun squinted at him. “You’re a brat, you know that, right?”
Kai simply smiled and nodded, as if this accusation was an everyday occurrence. (It was.)
Unsatisfied, Yeonjun glanced around, searching for backup.
Soobin was being debriefed by the photoshoot director about the promotion plan.
Taehyun was getting his outfit refitted—his arms having somehow grown overnight.
Beomgyu was in the makeup chair, half asleep and fully unhelpful.
Which left Yeonjun alone, forced to interrogate the maknae’s sudden devotion to hotpot by himself.
The plan commenced with a subtle shift—moving from standing in front of Kai to sitting beside him. Then leaning in, peeking over the maknae’s increasingly broad shoulder, and glancing at his phone screen.
Kai was scrolling through the Haidilao menu. Specifically, the soup bases.
“What’cha doing?” Yeonjun asked casually.
Kai flinched and immediately locked his phone.
“Nothing,” he stammered.
Yeonjun froze.
Now this was interesting. He had never seen Kai this shaken before.
“Are you sure?” he asked again.
Kai nodded—but it was far too frantic to be convincing.
“Because it looked like you were searching how to get to Haidilao from here.”
Yeonjun watched as Kai visibly slumped, like a man caught red-handed.
“I promised someone I’d eat with them there today,” Kai admitted.
Yeonjun’s curiosity sharpened immediately. Kai never mentioned meeting new people—ever.
“Who,” Yeonjun pressed, “are you planning to meet there?”
Kai muttered something under his breath and turned his head away.
Yeonjun bit back the urge to roll his eyes. Why was he suddenly this difficult?
“I’m sorry,” Yeonjun said sweetly, sarcasm dripping from every syllable, “I couldn’t hear you.”
Kai straightened, as if bracing himself, and forced eye contact with his hyung.
“My girlfriend.”
Yeonjun stared at him.
“I’m sorry—what?”
Kai sighed, turning fully toward him now, resignation written all over his face. “My girlfriend. I was trying to figure out the quickest way to get to Haidilao because I promised my girlfriend we’d eat there together.”
Yeonjun blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Did the word girlfriend just come out of Kai’s mouth?
No. It couldn’t have.
It had to be something else. A misunderstanding. A joke. A lie. A very elaborate excuse involving hotpot.
The sheer absurdity of the idea hit him all at once, and Yeonjun burst out laughing—loud enough that Beomgyu jolted awake in his makeup chair.
“What—what’s happening?” Beomgyu croaked.
Kai remained entirely unimpressed, staring at Yeonjun like this reaction was deeply offensive.
“If you wanted to go to Haidilao,” Yeonjun wheezed between laughs, “you don’t have to make up some fake girlfriend just to do it.”
Kai blinked at him.
Once.
Slowly.
And then—
“She’s not fake.”
“Sure,” Yeonjun said, very close to ruining his eye makeup from how hard he was laughing.
Kai only sighed and went back to scrolling on his phone.
It took three full minutes—and two increasingly concerned side-eyes from nearby staff—for Yeonjun to finally calm down.
“I’m so happy that the idea of me dating someone makes you want to pee your pants,” Kai said dryly, already tired of bowing apologetically to staff members who looked genuinely worried about the two of them.
Yeonjun snorted. “You know you don’t have to make up a whole fake girlfriend just to go eat hotpot.”
He pushed himself upright, having nearly folded in half during his laughing fit. “It’s okay if you don’t want to eat Taehyun’s cooking today,” he continued, reaching out to pinch his maknae’s cheeks. “I’ll tell him you got called away by the producers or something. It’s not like he’s going to murder you for skipping one healthy meal.”
Kai nodded along, deadpan, wondering if the concept of him having a girlfriend was truly that unbelievable that his members’ most logical conclusion was that he was lying just to avoid eating clean.
“Yep,” Kai said quietly. “That’s exactly what’s happening.”
Satisfied with the maknae’s answer, Yeonjun turned around and went to his phone.
Kai has a girlfriend?
Yeah right!
When Kai finally spotted you waiting in a booth, scrolling on your phone, he felt the weight of the day melt off his shoulders.
You were sitting there in one of the hoodies that existed in joint custody between the two of you, your bag resting on your lap. A Plusle keychain dangled from it—perfectly matching the Minun clipped to the belt loop of his pants.
He couldn’t help but stand there for a moment, silently debating whether he should wait for you to notice him or poke you into acknowledging his presence.
The decision was made for him the moment you realised there was a 183-centimetre shadow looming in front of you, prompting you to look up.
“You know, if you keep standing there, someone might think you’re haunting me,” you said, trying to get him to sit down.
Kai let himself slide into the seat—not across from you, but beside you.
He couldn’t help it. You were comfort personified, and why would he want a table between the two of you when he could sit right here?
He wrapped an arm around you, slowly letting himself melt into your side.
Photoshoots weren’t new to Kai, but they were always just exhausting enough to make him want to curl up into a ball afterward.
Now, he could curl up with you beside him—and that made everything better.
“Are you ready to eat?” you asked, leaning into him just as easily.
As his head slowly drooped to rest against your shoulder, Kai briefly thought that this must be what people meant when they complained about couples being disgustingly affectionate in public. Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to care if anyone was watching.
His thoughts were interrupted by a small nudge. He followed your finger to the tablet displaying the menu.
He straightened up and ordered with you, making sure both of your cravings were met. He listened as you talked about your day—about the new anime you were watching, about your friend’s upcoming birthday—and he realised he felt full in a way food had nothing to do with.
He really loved you.
When the food arrived, he made sure you ate first, even though this was the first proper meal he’d had all day.
It was halfway through feeding you your seventh bite that you asked, “So… how was the photoshoot?”
Kai made sure the chopsticks were perfectly loaded with everything you liked. “It was okay,” he said. “We filmed some TikToks—you’d probably like them. The outfits were fine.”
He lifted the chopsticks again, waiting patiently for you to open your mouth. “The only weird thing was that Yeonjun laughed at me when I told him I was meeting you here.”
You immediately choked on your food.
Kai rushed to grab a glass of water, holding it up to your lips and steadying it as you drank.
Once you finally signalled that you were okay, he set the glass down and watched you try to compose yourself.
“He—” you started. “You told him?”
Kai nodded. “Yeah. I said I was meeting my girlfriend here, and then he laughed like the Joker for twenty minutes.”
You snorted.
Then you started giggling.
Was he secretly a comedian? Why did everyone keep laughing at him?
“Well,” you said between laughs, “I guess they wouldn’t believe it even if you told them you had a girlfriend.”
He narrowed his eyes at you. “Are you saying that, in my members’ eyes, I am eternally bitchless?”
You nodded, still laughing.
“It’s okay,” you said, finally calming down. “I’ll still be with you—even if the entire world thinks you can’t pull.”
Kai couldn’t help but smile, because he knew the same thing.
No matter what anyone said, he’d choose you every single time.
THE SECOND TIME : SINCE WHEN WERE YOU INTO SHOUJO ANIME?
Soobin practically knew everything about Kai.
He knew his likes and his dislikes. He knew which of Kai’s many plushies was his favourite. He knew the small, subconscious habits Kai carried without realising—things Soobin had memorised over years of shared dorms and overlapping schedules.
Which was why this felt wrong.
Maybe it was because they’d been busy lately—the new comeback, the sudden surge of solo schedules, or simply the lack of proper one-on-one time—but Soobin never imagined walking into the living room to find Kai willingly watching Kimi no Todoke.
For fun.
Not ironically. Not because someone else had it on. Not because he’d lost a bet.
No—Kai was curled up on the couch, eyes glued to the screen, fully immersed as Sawako awkwardly fumbled through her feelings.
Soobin stopped walking.
He stared.
Since when was Huening Kai into shoujo anime?
Soobin knew Kai had been trying to get more into anime lately—but he distinctly remembered nineteen-year-old Kai declaring that he would rather get abs than watch shoujo.
Soobin blinked, needing to confirm whether what he was witnessing was real or simply the result of his horrible sleeping habits finally catching up to him.
He closed his eyes.
He opened them again.
Kai was still there. Still watching Kimi no Todoke. Still wearing an expression of genuine focus that couldn’t possibly be faked.
Soobin couldn’t help himself.
“What the hell are you watching?”
Kai flinched, whipping his head around to find Soobin standing behind him.
Soobin slowly raised a hand and pointed at the TV. “Want to explain this?”
Kai tilted his head, genuinely confused. “Hyung, you’ve known I watch anime. Why is this weird?”
Soobin did a double take.
Why was this weird?
Oh. Right.
“Are we looking at the same thing right now?”
Kai turned back to the screen and paused the episode, then patted the space beside him, gesturing for Soobin to sit. “Do you want some water?” he added seriously. “Maybe all those media training lectures messed with your head.”
Soobin gaped at the maknae—yet somehow still found himself sitting down moments later, a newly acquired glass of water resting in his hand.
Kai turned to face his leader, a blanket draped over his lap and his comfiest hoodie pulled on, looking painfully at ease.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
Soobin searched for the right words. “Why?”
Kai tilted his head. “Why what?”
“Why are you watching—” Soobin gestured vaguely toward the TV, fingers flailing, “this.”
Soobin nodded slowly, as if that explanation made sense.
It didn’t.
“But you said you’d rather get abs than watch a school romance,” Soobin shot back.
Kai chuckled at the reminder. “I did,” he said, then gestured vaguely to his body. “But, uh—look at what happened to me.”
Soobin stared.
Abs were one thing. This? This was slander.
His brain began to whir. Loudly.
This wasn’t the Kai he knew. The Kai he raised. The Kai who once abandoned a drama five minutes in because ‘why are they staring at each other for so long?’
He looked at the screen again. Sawako was blushing.
Kai was smiling.
Oh no.
He’s changed, Soobin thought, dread curling in his stomach. Someone did this to him.
Slowly, carefully—like he was approaching a wild animal—Soobin leaned forward.
“Kai,” he said quietly. Dangerously calm.
Kai hummed, eyes still fixed on the paused screen.
“Who,” Soobin continued, pointing once at the TV, then very deliberately at Kai, “made you do this?”
Kai finally looked at him. Blinked. “…Hyung?”
“C’mon,” Soobin said. “You mean to tell me that all of a sudden, you’re changing your personality.”
“Personality?” Kai shot back. “I’m watching one anime and now you’re saying my entire DNA has changed?”
Soobin nodded. “Exactly. So what’s happening?”
Kai sighed, already knowing his hyung wouldn’t let this go. “You want the truth?”
Soobin nodded.
Kai exhaled. “My girlfriend told me it was good, so I decided to watch it.”
Soobin stared at his maknae.
Kai stared back at his leader.
“Girlfriend?” Soobin echoed.
Kai nodded, like this was the most normal sentence he’d ever said.
Soobin stared at the boy he’d known since he was fifteen—the kid he’d practically raised. He lifted a hand and pointed straight at him. “Girlfriend?”
Kai nodded again. Still calm. Still normal.
Too normal.
Which could only mean one thing.
Kai was lying.
A big, fat liar.
Soobin blinked. “You know,” he said carefully, “it’s okay to admit your tastes have evolved.”
Kai frowned. “What?”
“You don’t have to make up a girlfriend for it.”
Soobin watched as Kai closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and let out a long sigh.
“You’re telling me,” Kai said, locking eyes with him, “that just because I said I have a girlfriend, you think I’m making up an excuse to watch a romance anime?”
Soobin nodded—completely serious.
Kai pursed his lips. “You’re right,” he surrendered. “You’re absolutely right.”
Soobin nodded, satisfied with the explanation he’d decided on for Kai.
“Go on,” he said, leaning back with his arms crossed. “Have fun watching Kimi no Todoke.”
Kai opened his mouth to retort, then thought better of it, allowing Soobin his moment of victory.
Soobin settled back into the couch, proud of the conclusion he’d reached.
Kai can’t have a girlfriend, he decided firmly. He’s just getting introduced to girls.
Kai’s favourite part of the days when he couldn’t see you was when he got to call you.
It was always late at night, after he’d settled into his room and made sure he’d said goodnight to all the members. He would send you a simple message—something like i’m free ~ —and then go about his nighttime routine, already anticipating the sound of your voice.
Sometimes you called while he was still in the shower, and he would speedrun through it just to call you back as soon as possible. Other times, you’d call when he was halfway through skincare, and the two of you would talk about your days while Kai carefully applied one of the Pokémon face masks you’d insisted on buying him.
To him, these calls were peace.
Relaxation.
The thing that made long, exhausting days at the company feel worth it.
And he knew that for you, they were a break too—a pause from daily stress, from everything that weighed on you.
Maybe that was why he cherished these calls just as much as he cherished seeing you in person. Because when the two of you were talking through a screen, it felt like your own small world— one that couldn’t be disturbed in the slightest.
Tonight’s call came while he was finishing his skincare. He’d already said goodnight to the members after eating Taehyun’s homemade food—the same food he’d missed earlier when he’d gone to Haidilao to meet you.
He accepted the call and smiled immediately when your face appeared on the screen. It looked like you were just starting your own nighttime routine.
The conversation began the way it always did: small, simple questions.
How was your day? Did you eat? Are you tired?
But they were never small between the two of you.
Kai genuinely wanted to know everything you’d done, and he knew you loved hearing about the tiny moments that made his day special.
Tonight’s main story?
Soobin questioning him over watching Kimi no Todoke—and then outright refusing to believe him when he told the truth.
It sounded ridiculous when Kai said it out loud. But the way you reacted, laughing softly into your hand, made it worth it.
As much as he loved the sound, Kai couldn’t stop the pout that formed on his lips.
“Why do all the members think there’s no possible way for me to get a girlfriend?” he complained.
Your laughter slowly faded.
“Maybe,” you said gently, “it’s because you’re always their baby who hates romance?”
Kai let out a noise somewhere between a scoff and a sulk. “But it’s not funny anymore.”
You tried—and failed—to contain another quiet laugh.
“Imagine if you give them our wedding invitations and they still don’t believe you.”
Kai looked horrified at the thought.
“No!” he exclaimed, face-palming as he pulled his blankets up and over himself like they could shield him from the idea.
That finally set you off, but when the laughter faded, Kai found himself just watching you—your smile warm and fond in a way that made his chest ache.
“It’s okay,” you said softly. “That just means when they finally do figure it out, it’ll be even funnier.”
That was something Kai could agree on.
It went quiet for a moment. Comfortable. Unrushed.
And before he could stop himself, he said, “I miss you.”
You shifted in bed, getting more comfortable before smiling back at him.
“I miss you too, bubba.”
Kai wrinkled his nose. “Bubba?”
You nodded. “It’s cute.” You leaned your head against your hand. “Like you.”
As much as Kai wanted to argue that you were much cuter, his cheeks were already turning pink.
“Shut up,” he mumbled weakly.
Your small laugh echoed through his headphones.
“I love you.”
Kai muttered the words back, quieter—but no less certain.
He really wouldn’t mind being married to you.
THE THIRD TIME: DID THE GHOST OF SHAKESPHERE POSSESS YOU?
Beomgyu had always admired Kai.
From the moment he learned that the group’s maknae had originally come to the company to produce—not sing, not dance—Beomgyu found himself genuinely impressed by the thirteen-year-old trainee. It wasn’t just talent. It was instinct. Kai heard music differently.
Whenever it came time to write lyrics or build a track, Beomgyu gravitated toward him without thinking. Beats, melodies, second opinions—Kai was always the one he trusted. The one who listened carefully before speaking. The one whose feedback actually made things better.
So when the producers suggested that the two in-house producers of the group sit together to brainstorm for the new album, Beomgyu didn’t hesitate.
He already had expectations.
Kai would write about friendship.
Or youth.
Or chasing dreams with that soft sincerity he was known for.
What Beomgyu did not expect—
Was a romance song.
And not even the safe kind. Not a vague, abstract I like you from afar track that could be brushed off as fanservice or metaphor.
No.
Kai wanted to write about wanting to dance with someone.
The lyrics he showed Beomgyu made him think Kai might want to do more than just dance.
Beomgyu stared at the lyric sheet in silence.
Then, slowly, he looked up.
“…Who possessed you?”
He stared at the maknae—who stared back at him with wide eyes.
“What do you mean?” Kai asked.
Beomgyu looked back down at the paper, skimming over lines like this long, sweet dance that can’t be done alone.
He blinked.
“When did the ghost of Shakespeare possess you?”
Kai frowned. “I don’t follow.”
Beomgyu gestured at the lyric sheet.
“What made you write—” he paused, repressing both a shiver and a gag, “—sensual stuff?”
His face twisted. “Sensual stuff?” he repeated, like the word physically hurt.
Kai frowned—not offended. Just… confused. Genuinely so.
“What’s wrong with it?” he asked.
Beomgyu froze.
That was worse than denial. Worse than embarrassment.
That was indifference.
The maknae was absolutely indifferent to the fact that he had written something meant to be sung to someone.
“Kai,” Beomgyu said carefully, “you don’t just accidentally write lines like this long, sweet dance that can’t be done alone.”
Kai shrugged, rolling his chair a little closer to the desk. “It’s just honest.”
Beomgyu’s eye twitched.
“Honest.”
“Yeah,” Kai said, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Dancing isn’t just moving. It’s timing. Trust. You have to listen to the other person. You can’t rush it—and you can’t do it by yourself.”
He spoke gently. Thoughtfully.
Like he’d rehearsed this explanation long before Beomgyu ever asked.
Beomgyu stared.
This wasn’t poetic nonsense.
This was a thesis.
“So,” Kai continued, eyes flicking briefly back to the lyric sheet, “I wanted it to feel close. Like you’re aware of every step the other person takes.”
Silence.
Beomgyu’s brain began to short-circuit.
“…You’re aware,” he said slowly, “that this is a love song.”
Kai nodded. “Yeah.”
Immediate. No hesitation.
Beomgyu swallowed.
“And you’re aware,” he pressed, “that this is supposed to be hypothetical.”
Kai tilted his head. “But it’s not?”
Oh.
Beomgyu looked at him again—really looked this time. The calm posture. The steady tone. The lack of deflection. No jokes. No embarrassment.
“…Who,” Beomgyu asked quietly, “are you dancing with?”
Kai blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then his ears turned red.
Something in Beomgyu’s soul cracked.
“Kai,” he whispered, pointing accusingly, “don’t you dare tell me this is about a real person.”
Kai shrugged, turning back to the soundboard and fiddling with a beat.
“God forbid a man wants to write a song about dancing with his girlfriend.”
Beomgyu blinked at him.
Girlfriend?
“…And by girlfriend, you mean a really hot actress, right?”
Kai turned around, eyes wide.
“Why would I lie about having a girlfriend?”
Beomgyu scoffed. “When would you ever leave your room long enough to get a girlfriend?”
Kai nodded slowly—less in agreement and more because he was still processing the audacity of that statement.
Beomgyu, meanwhile, seemed perfectly satisfied with his conclusion. He leaned forward and grabbed Kai by the shoulders.
“So,” he said teasingly, eyes sparkling, “care to tell me which actress made you want to finally become a man?”
Kai grimaced. “That’s gross, hyung.”
Beomgyu gasped, recoiling like he’d been personally offended.
“You’re disgusting! I didn’t mean it like that,” he protested, then pointed accusingly at Kai. “I just wanted to know what made you want to be all sensual,” he sang, dragging the word out obnoxiously.
“She’s not an actress!” Kai exclaimed.
Beomgyu clutched his chest and gasped once more.
“Is it one of our sunbaes?”
Kai opened his mouth to defend himself—but nothing came out.
“Is that why you want to dance with them?” Beomgyu giggled, a new theory forming mid-sentence. “Is it because you want a collaboration?”
Kai sighed and nodded along.
“Sure,” he said, patting Beomgyu as the older boy laughed himself silly. “Whatever floats your boat, hyung.”
Beomgyu continued to giggle.
The maknae having a girlfriend before him?
As if.
No matter how many times TXT released new music, it never stopped being nerve-wracking for Kai.
Questions always raced through his head—what if the fans didn’t like it? What if the directors butchered the music video? What if the company uploaded the wrong file and the wrong video went live?
Release day always left his stomach twisted into knots.
Today was no different.
If anything, it was worse.
Today was the day you would watch—and listen to—Dance With You for the first time.
Kai paced back and forth across your apartment, hands running through his hair, stopping only to glance at your laptop every few seconds as you refreshed the page again and again. Meanwhile, you just watched him with quiet amusement, unfazed by his spiraling energy.
“It’s okay,” you called out gently.
And the practical part of his brain agreed. It was fine. Totally fine.
It’s not like he’d written a song about you.
Not like it was basically dedicated to you.
And it’s not like this was your first time hearing it, considering the song had been out for weeks—weeks you’d spent waiting only because he’d begged you not to listen until the music video dropped.
Really. No big deal at all.
Then he heard you gasp.
Kai snapped his head toward you just in time to see you click on the thumbnail—him, mid-dance, holding a mop.
He physically cringed.
What if you hated it?
What if you hated seeing him like this—more grown, more intentional, more romantic?
Oh my god… what if you broke up with him because you thought he was getting too close with a mop?
The thought was ridiculous. Completely irrational.
And yet Kai suddenly became very afraid that, in some distant future, he’d be remembered only as the ex who danced with cleaning supplies—a cautionary tale you’d tell on dates because you hated the music video that much.
Kai was so consumed by his panic that he completely missed watching your reactions. It wasn’t until your voice cut through his thoughts with a weary, “Kai?” that he snapped back into reality.
“Yes?” he answered too quickly, silently begging his stomach to keep down the egg and toast he’d forced himself to eat that morning.
You were looking at him—not at the screen, not at the paused video, but at him. There was something in your expression that made his chest tighten, something Kai could only describe as awe.
He swallowed hard, pushing down the lump forming in his throat.
“…Did you like it?” he asked quietly, almost meekly.
You held your hands out to him, and when he placed his in yours, you gently tugged him down until he was sitting beside you.
“Like it?” you echoed, disbelief woven into your voice. “Sweetheart, I loved it.”
Kai felt his body finally relax, like everything snapping back into its proper place. “Really?”
You nodded without hesitation. “What’s not to like?”
You reached for the laptop, replaying the music video as you continued, “My boyfriend looking all pretty and handsome on screen, showing the whole world that he’s capable of incredible things.”
A small giggle slipped out of Kai before he could stop it, warmth blooming in his chest as he let himself soak in the praise.
He shifted closer, eventually settling into your lap, eyes fluttering shut as your hand instinctively moved to run through his hair.
“Did you read the lyrics yet?” he asked softly.
You shook your head. “Considering I heard the song for the first time, like, seven minutes ago? I don’t think I’ve had time to properly digest the lyrics you wrote.”
“Well, you should,” he said, almost sheepishly. “They made Beomgyu think I’m crushing on a sunbae.”
You snorted. “What?”
He nodded seriously. “He read the lyrics and straight-up refused to believe I’m capable of writing about girls.”
You laughed, already following his logic. “Another girlfriend reveal gone wrong?”
Kai hummed in agreement. “It’s obvious too. I’m not even hiding you from them anymore, and they still don’t believe me when I tell them.”
He glanced up at you as you tried to think of a solution.
“Maybe they’d believe it if they saw it?” you offered.
Kai considered that. You weren’t wrong—but a small, anxious part of him worried they’d just ask if he’d hired you as an actress.
“I’ll think about it,” he said instead.
Which, in Kai-speak, really meant: I don’t want to think about this right now, but I’ll file it away as a potential Plan B.
You resumed playing with his hair, fingers gentle and familiar. “Hey, Bubba?” you asked softly.
He looked up, expecting a question.
Instead, you kissed him.
He melted into it immediately, relaxing as he pressed his lips back against yours. When you pulled away moments later, you stayed close, your words barely a whisper against his mouth.
“I would love to dance with you.”
Kai kissed you again without hesitation, heart swelling in his chest.
And as he held you there, he couldn’t help but think that he’d dance with you every day—every lifetime—if he could.
THE FOURTH TIME : IS YOUR LOVE LANGUAGE ABS?
Taehyun knew he was very different from Kai.
Taehyun hated being called cute.
Kai embraced it.
Taehyun hated watching romance.
Kai was—apparently—getting into it.
Taehyun didn’t mind showing skin.
Kai avoided it as much as he possibly could.
But Kai had been Taehyun’s first friend on the team.
One of the people closest to him.
Taehyun listened. He always did. He would sit beside Kai and let him talk—about his day, about melodies stuck in his head, about ideas for projects that never quite left his thoughts. Taehyun didn’t interrupt. He didn’t rush him. He just stayed.
Which led to another realisation, another difference between them.
Taehyun loved working out.
Kai would rather do just about anything else than step into a gym.
Which was why Taehyun found himself surprised— and, admittedly, a little scared— when Kai asked if he could help him get abs.
Taehyun had agreed.
That decision led to a two-hour session at the HYBE gym, where Taehyun spotted the maknae and discovered—much to his disbelief—that Kai was putting in a full, unwavering one hundred percent effort. No complaints. No excuses. Just stubborn focus and slightly shaky arms.
That alone was alarming.
It wasn’t until after the workout that Taehyun decided he needed answers.
They were seated at the HYBE café, taking full advantage of the free food benefit they earned by metaphorically breaking their backs for the company. Taehyun watched as Kai ordered his usual mango drink— then added one scoop of protein powder.
As if that single scoop made all the difference in the world.
Taehyun cleared his throat.
“So,” he began carefully, “what exactly made you want to get—” he paused, searching for the least awkward word possible, “—abs?”
Across from him, Kai slurped his mango concoction thoughtfully, eyes unfocused as he considered the question.
Taehyun waited.
This better be good.
Kai blinked. “Well… we had them for Love Language, so I thought I should keep them.”
Taehyun nodded slowly, not fully buying it.
“If I remember correctly,” he said, “you were always the first person to leave the gym the second the trainer said you were good to go.”
Kai hummed in response, leaning forward to take a bite of the egg tart he’d grabbed.
“So?” Taehyun pressed, crossing his arms.
Kai finished chewing and let out a sigh.
A deep sigh.
That immediately worried Taehyun.
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Kai said quietly.
Taehyun’s mind started racing.
What does he mean I wouldn’t understand?
He ran through every possibility—every reason Kai might suddenly change one of his most fundamental habits.
“…Are you getting hate comments about your body again?”
Kai’s eyes widened. “What? No.”
Taehyun raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
Kai nodded. “I mean, I probably am. But I’m not reading them anymore.”
Taehyun looked down at the table and let out a small, relieved sigh.
Okay. Not that.
So what else?
He cleared his throat again. “Then what is it that I won’t believe?”
Kai took another sip of his drink.
Taehyun watched closely, silently praying that two hours at the gym hadn’t just gone to waste on a mango drink with a conscience.
Kai cleared his throat. “Well,” he trailed off, “my girlfriend really liked my abs during Love Language, so I thought I should try to keep them.”
Taehyun blinked.
Then rubbed his ear, just to be sure.
“I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing it again, “can you repeat that?”
Kai looked like he was used to this. He slumped further into his seat.
“I’m trying to keep my abs because my girlfriend likes them.”
Taehyun stared straight into Kai’s eyes, searching desperately for a hint of humor.
There was none.
Which meant this had to be something else.
“You don’t have to use a girlfriend as an excuse to better yourself,” Taehyun said gently.
That had to be it. He must be embarrassed—starting now, when everyone else had been working out for years.
Kai looked exasperated. “What exactly are you talking about?”
Taehyun continued, “I understand that everyone around us has always pushed us to be fit, and you never listened—which was completely fine, because you looked great without the muscle.” He paused, meeting Kai’s eyes. “But you don’t have to be embarrassed to admit you want to improve yourself now.”
Kai stared at him.
Then leaned forward, rested his arms on the table, and took another sip of his drink.
“Sure, hyung,” he said dryly. “You caught me. I’m using a fake girlfriend as an excuse to get abs so I can keep watching anime and gaming in my room—but with abs.”
Taehyun nodded, satisfied.
“That makes sense,” he said. “I mean—whose love language is abs?”
Kai stared at him blankly. “Yeah,” he said flatly. “So weird.”
Taehyun opened his mouth to comment on the tone when his phone rang—a reminder for an interview he had to film alongside Yeonjun.
He stood, holding the phone up to Kai, who waved him off casually.
Taehyun walked down the hallway toward the makeup room, already shaking his head.
The maknae having a girlfriend?
There was absolutely no way.
When Kai was training, he always kept a small emotional-support plushie with him.
It wasn’t separation anxiety—he swapped them out often.
It wasn’t to stand out or earn points with the producers during training sessions, like some of the other trainees tried to do.
He simply liked having something small and soft nearby. A reminder that even when things felt overwhelming or bleak, there were still gentle, cute things in the world.
People teased him for it.
His sisters teased him.
His members teased him too.
But he always knew it came from a place of fondness, so he never took it to heart. It became just another thing about him—something he accepted with a shrug and a smile.
Which was why his heart had started beating faster when, during a video call, you noticed the plushies in the background.
And instead of commenting on how many there were, you asked if they all had names.
And stories.
You were the first person in his life who didn’t treat his plushies like something to laugh at—but like something that mattered.
What made it even better was that you had your own collection. A stash of stuffed animals you clearly adored just as much.
At the time, it felt like a small detail. Cute. Insignificant.
Later, it became something else entirely.
Something affectionately referred to as “ the co-parenting practice”.
This happened every two to three weeks.
The two of you would meet—usually at your place—and spend a few quiet hours together before exchanging plushies, so that you each left with a small piece of the other.
This week was no different.
In Kai’s hands was a Tuxedo Sam plushie you had given him, tucked carefully alongside the strawberry Molang plushie he planned to give you in return.
But that wasn’t all he was carrying.
In his bag were three of his comfiest hoodies—chosen specifically because, just the other day, you had complained about how the women’s section never stocked properly oversized fits.
Kai wasn’t stupid. He had watched enough dramas to know that this was a thing—something you were supposed to do. Give someone your hoodies. Let them steal your warmth.
So he had spent a full ninety minutes standing in front of his closet, narrowing it down to his top three. He picked his favourite cologne, sprayed each hoodie lightly, then folded them neatly into the bag, placing the plushies on top like they were guarding them.
And somewhere between zipping the bag shut and slinging it over his shoulder, it hit him.
This—this—was what love meant.
Because he knew, without a doubt, that he would never do this for anyone else.
He quickly unlocked the door to his apartment and let himself in, immediately kicking off his shoes and hanging his jacket and mask on the designated hook you kept just for him.
He set his bag at the foot of the couch before heading to the kitchen to find you. Instead of greeting you properly, he opted to surprise you with a hug.
He couldn’t hide his smile when you flinched at the sudden contact.
“You know I could’ve kicked you,” you said, even as you melted into his embrace.
“Yeah,” Kai agreed easily, “but then you wouldn’t be able to hug me, and you’d feel bad.”
You stopped stirring the pasta and turned to face him. “Well, that would be too bad, wouldn’t it.”
He smiled down at you. “Hi,” he whispered.
“Hi,” you smiled back.
“Are you ready for the exchange?” he asked, already looking forward to carrying another piece of you with him.
You nodded, placing a lid on the pot.
“Smells delicious, by the way,” Kai added as he followed you into the living room.
The exchange went on as it always did—soft smiles, familiar movements, comforting habits. In return for his Squirtle plushie, he received a bread plush with a tiny bow tie, accompanied by your quiet remark that it reminded you of him.
He, in turn, excitedly handed you the Molang plushie, which you immediately cooed over, praising how cute it was.
You were just as overjoyed with his hoodie selection, admitting that you’d been eyeing his closet for a long time. Kai felt his heart warm as he helped you pull them on, one by one.
The meal that followed was delicious. Because of you, he had learned how amazing it was to eat something homemade—something not packaged or ordered. He would happily eat your cooking no matter the consequences.
It was only when it came time to say goodbye that Kai found himself truly grateful for the arrangement the two of you had started. He couldn’t imagine not doing this with you.
He lingered in your doorway, procrastinating putting his jacket and shoes back on.
“One more hug,” he pleaded, making small grabby hands in your direction.
You smiled. “I’ve been hugging you all day.”
“That’s different,” he argued. “This is my goodbye hug.”
You played along. “You’re right. It would be unjust to let you go without one.”
He opened his arms, already accepting you the moment you stepped into his space.
You shifted slightly in his embrace. He didn’t think much of it—until your voice came out muffled against his sweatshirt.
“Have you been working out?”
He nodded, arms still wrapped around you. “You said you liked my abs, and I figured… if you liked them, I might as well try to keep them a little longer.”
You looked up at him. “You know you don’t have to.”
He hummed in agreement. “I know. But it’s for you—and it’s not a big deal either.”
“Are you sure?” you asked.
He smiled and nodded, pulling you even closer.
“It even let me tell Taehyun about you,” he added after a moment, loosening his hold just enough to let you breathe.
“Did he believe you?” you asked.
“No,” Kai said, a little dejected.
You giggled. “You’d think he’d be the one to figure it out.”
“You’d think,” Kai sighed, finally moving to put his shoes on.
“It’s okay,” you said, handing him his jacket. “We’ll tell them together?”
He nodded, slipping it on and grabbing the bag that held his children—read: plushies.
He paused, looking at you. “One more hug before I leave?”
You smiled and indulged him.
Kai decided he wouldn’t mind staying in your embrace forever.
THE ONE TIME : WHY WERE YOUR LIPS MOVING LIKE THAT ?
Kai decided that everyone around him was, frankly, dumb.
There was no other explanation. No universe in which four grown men could repeatedly fail to comprehend the very simple fact that he had a girlfriend—especially when he had spelled it out for them. Slowly. Clearly. Multiple times.
And yet.
They accused him of having everything but a girlfriend and moved on as if it never happened.
Which was why Kai decided it was time to test their cognitive skills.
By inviting you to the dorm.
The plan was simple. He’d call you over, the two of you would hang out in his room, and that would be that. Undeniable proof. Visual confirmation. Case closed.
It started well enough. Despite everyone having the day off, the dorm’s common areas were eerily empty, which made it easy for Kai to sneak you inside and coax you down the hallway to his room without running into anyone.
He’d planned the afternoon meticulously. Snacks were arranged neatly on his desk. His laptop was fully charged. His bed had been transformed into the coziest possible setup—plushies piled high, hoodies layered over the mattress for extra comfort. He was nothing if not prepared.
And honestly? The day went well.
It was a little awkward at first—Kai adjusting to the reality of having a girl in his room, you adjusting to the fact that you were in your boyfriend’s room—but somewhere between the soft giggles, the easy conversation, and eventually curling up together on his bed, the nerves melted away.
Two hours slipped by without either of you noticing.
You talked. You scrolled on your phones in companionable silence. Eventually, you settled in properly, choosing My Neighbour Totoro—a mutual favorite—and letting the movie play as you cozied closer together.
At some point during the film, Kai realized he had stopped paying attention entirely.
Totoro moved across the screen, the gentle music swelling and fading, but Kai couldn’t tell you what was happening anymore. His attention had drifted—quietly, naturally—away from the movie and onto you.
You were tucked into his side, knees drawn up slightly, your head resting against his shoulder like it belonged there. One of his hoodies swallowed you whole, sleeves covering your hands, fabric bunching up around your neck. Every now and then, you shifted closer without thinking, chasing warmth.
Kai swallowed.
He told himself to look back at the screen. He really did. But then you laughed softly at something—barely louder than a breath—and the sound settled right into his chest.
He glanced down.
Bad idea.
Your face was relaxed, eyes reflecting the soft glow of the screen, lips slightly parted in concentration. Kai felt something twist low in his stomach, unfamiliar and dizzying. He adjusted his arm around you, intending only to get comfortable.
Instead, you leaned into the touch.
Your head tipped just enough for your cheek to brush his collarbone, and Kai froze. His heart began to race, loud enough that he was convinced you could hear it. He held his breath, waiting to see if you’d pull away.
You didn’t.
Minutes passed. Or seconds. Kai wasn’t sure anymore. The space between your faces felt suddenly noticeable—charged in a way that made his palms sweat. He could feel your breathing, slow and steady, syncing with his own despite his best efforts to stay calm.
You tilted your head up slightly, eyes flicking from the screen to his face.
“Kai?” you murmured, barely audible over the movie.
“Yeah?” His voice came out softer than he intended.
“I think you stopped watching,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips.
He huffed out a quiet, nervous laugh. “I think I did.”
Your gaze lingered. Too long to be accidental. The air between you felt heavy, expectant, like it was waiting for something to happen.
Kai leaned in before he could overthink it.
Slowly. Carefully. Giving you time to pull away.
You didn’t.
Instead, you met him halfway.
The kiss was gentle—soft and hesitant, like the two of you were still figuring out how to exist in this moment. Your lips fit against his in a way that made his thoughts scatter completely, warmth blooming through his chest.
Someone on-screen said something profound.
Neither of you noticed.
The kiss lingered.
At first, neither of you moved—like you were both waiting to see if the moment would disappear if you shifted even slightly. Kai’s lips stayed against yours, warm and careful, his breath shallow. He could feel the way your hands tightened just a little in the fabric of his hoodie, like you were anchoring yourself there.
Then you leaned in again.
Just a fraction closer. Just enough.
Kai followed instinctively this time, his hand sliding from where it rested awkwardly at your side to your waist, fingers curling into the oversized hoodie. The movement was slow, almost shy, like he was asking permission with every inch.
Your lips parted slightly, and his heart stuttered.
The kiss deepened—not suddenly, not dramatically—but naturally, like it had always been meant to get here. It was still gentle, still sweet, but warmer now. More intentional. Kai tilted his head, kissing you again, softer this time, slower, like he was trying to memorize the feeling.
He pulled back just enough for his forehead to rest against yours.
You were close enough that he could feel your breath, hear the tiny sound you made when you inhaled.
“Sorry,” he whispered instinctively, even though he didn’t know what he was apologizing for.
You smiled, brushing your nose against his. “Don’t be.”
That was all it took.
Kai kissed you again, a little more confident now, his thumb moving absentmindedly at your waist. The world outside his room—practice, schedules, his members, the whole ridiculous plan—felt impossibly far away.
Right now, it was just this.
You. Him. The quiet glow of the movie still playing, completely forgotten.
And for the first time since inviting you over, Kai thought distantly:
Yeah. This was a really good idea.
…Which was, unfortunately, exactly what happened.
Somewhere between kissing you and getting completely lost in it, Kai failed to register the footsteps outside his door. He didn’t notice the handle turning. Didn’t hear the door creak open. Didn’t even process Beomgyu’s voice starting to say something about practice being moved to today.
Not until the scream.
It was loud. Sharp. Horrified.
Kai froze.
Time stalled in the worst way possible—his lips still barely parted, his hand still at your waist, the world crashing back into place all at once.
Kai broke the kiss and looked down at you, trying to make sure you were okay. He was about to ask when another scream tore from Beomgyu.
“Can you stop screaming, hyung?” Kai said, annoyance creeping into his voice.
Beomgyu just stared, eyes wide. “You—” He pointed a trembling finger at Kai. “What the hell were your lips doing?”
Kai opened his mouth to retort—but was interrupted as Yeonjun appeared, dragging a half-asleep Soobin behind him.
“What happened?” Yeonjun asked, out of breath.
His gaze followed Beomgyu’s finger, landing on Kai… and you… in his bed. His eyes widened, and he dragged Soobin closer to see for himself.
The two eldest gulped, then simultaneously turned to Kai. “She’s real,” they said at the exact same time.
Eerie, Kai thought.
Then Taehyun appeared, peeked inside—and Kai watched the most unfazed member of the group’s jaw drop.
He was about to speak, but Soobin cleared his throat before he could.
“Group meeting… in the living room. Now.” His leader's tone made it clear this was going to be serious.
Soobin then turned to you. “You… should also come,” he stammered, clearly untrained in handling the concept of a girl in the maknae’s room.
Soobin quickly dragged the members to the living room, muttering something about “letting the youngest get a decent—” The words sounded pained as they left his mouth.
Kai wanted to yell back that nothing inappropriate was happening, but he quickly realized that wouldn’t mean anything to them.
He turned to face you, bracing for shock or awkwardness—emotions he knew he’d beat himself up for causing. Instead, he found your face carefully composed, trying—and failing—to suppress a laugh.
You let out a small burst of laughter. “Well, I guess they know now.”
Kai relaxed slightly. “I guess they do.”
You turned to him, smiling. “Shall we go?”
Kai nodded, helping you out of the cozy nest of his bed and holding your hand as you stood.
He led you to the living room, where his four older members were whispering and pointing at each other, clearly in the middle of a heated debate.
Kai cleared his throat, catching everyone’s attention. “Hello,” he said, bowing slightly as if this were some formal interview. He held up your joined hands. “This is my girlfriend.”
You smiled, raising your free hand to wave. “It’s so nice to meet you! I’ve heard so many things about you.”
The four boys stared at you as if you were a unicorn.
“You're real?” Beomgyu asked.
You nodded, “I would hope so,”
Soobin snapped back into reality.
“Sit,” he gestured to the couple that he could barely make eye contact with.
Kai let you sit down and settle first before sitting beside you.
Yeonjun cleared his throat, “You weren’t lying when you said you were going to Hadilao to see your girlfriend?”
Kai nodded.
Soobin chimed in, “And you were watching Kimi No Todoke because she wanted you to watch it?”
Kai nodded again.
Beomgyu looked Kai in the eye, “To be clear, you wrote Dance with You for her?”
Kai pursed his lips and nodded, remembering all the glances Beomfyu would give him any time they would pass a female sunbae.
Taehyun stared at him, “You were training to get abs because of her?”
Kai let out a hum of agreement.
A collective ‘oh’ let out by the group.
Beomgyu turned back to you, eyes wide. “So… she’s real. And he’s… yours?” His voice trembled slightly, as if this revelation were too big to process.
Kai, unfazed, simply nodded and gave your hand a small squeeze. “Yep. All hers.”
The room went silent for a moment, each member letting the information sink in. Then, almost simultaneously, Yeonjun and Beomgyu groaned in unison.
“This is so embarrassing for him,” Beomgyu muttered.
“And for us!” Yeonjun added, throwing his head back dramatically.
Soobin finally broke the silence, sighing heavily. “Alright. New rule: no more accidental walk-ins. And Kai… maybe give us a heads-up before your ‘romance escapades’ escalate again.”
Kai’s ears turned red. “That’s not what was happening!”
Beomgyu shook his head, pointing a finger at him. “No, that was exactly what was happening. I’m the one who had the misfortune of watching.”
Kai opened his mouth to argue, but was interrupted by Taehyun, who leaned forward with an unexpectedly serious expression. “Are you… happy with each other?”
You blinked, taken off guard by the sudden shift in mood. Clearing your throat, you smiled softly. “Yeah… I think I’m the happiest I’ve ever been when I’m with Kai.”
Kai’s chest fluttered. He leaned forward and pressed a small, tender kiss onto your intertwined hands.
Then came the gagging noises.
Kai didn’t care.
Because no matter what the world—or his members—thought, he was very much in love with his (very much real!) girlfriend.
#SYNOPSIS » you are mostly into girls. everyone knows that. soobin knows that. but that never stopped him from watching you like he knew something you didn’t. he’s your favorite boy, your quietest tension, you flirt with him because you think it’s fun. until one night, a horror movie, and a question you weren’t ready for — are you really not into guys? and maybe it was never about boys. maybe it was just about him.
✰ pairing: soobin x bi!fem!reader … ﹒smut, slowburn, friends to something, power play, pwp ✰ w/c: 15k #nowplaying 1980s horror film - wallows
✰ warnings: explicit sexual content (mdni!!), power dynamics, dom! soobin, oral (m receiving), praise + degradation kink, cum eating, consent is clear but push-pull tension, light pain, confusion around sexuality, reader is bi but leans heavily towards girls
you never really liked boys anyway. except for choi soobin, of course.
which was annoying. infuriating, really. because he was the one boy you let yourself like, just a little, back when college was still new and everything felt like it could be a movie. he was cute in a lazy, floppy-haired way. laughed too loud. had that smug look on his face like he knew girls liked him, and you hated boys like that.
but you liked him, just a little. you liked the way he always saved you a seat. liked the way he looked at you when you talked, like you were saying something important, even when you weren’t. and maybe, once or twice, you thought about kissing him. maybe, if he kissed you first, you wouldn’t have stopped him. and soobin, well, he’s just your friend. even if you’re always in his lap. even if you always call him baby when you’re drunk. even if sometimes he looks at you like he wants to ruin you.
but then you hooked up with that girl from your lit class and remembered: oh. right. you like girls. you’ve always known you were mostly into girls. since before you even had a word for it. barbie made out with other barbie. you had crushes on your best friends. and when you finally kissed a girl for the first time, it felt like everything made sense. you’re bi, technically. but girls were always easier for you. guys were… well, guys. loud, messy, handsy. they talked over you. and every time you tried to “give it a shot” with one, it ended in disappointment. sometimes disgust. you got tired of being disappointed, so you stopped trying.
but then there was soobin.
your friendship with him is… complicated. you watch movies together all the time. mostly 1980's horror films. bad ones, always. you eat from the same bowl of popcorn and scream at the same jump scares. he lets you paint his nails while you ramble about some bullshit while you’re high, and he acts like it doesn’t hurt when you say things like i think i’m into her.
but also, you caught him staring once. not in a gross way. more like… sad? like he wanted to ask something, but didn’t know if he should. well, you didn’t ask either. you just laid your head on his shoulder and said, “you’re my favorite boy, you know that?” and he said, “i better be."
you’ve seen him shirtless more times than you can count. not on purpose, just sleepovers, gym selfies, pool days. but still, his stupid abs live rent-free in your head. and maybe you’ve thought about kissing him. maybe you wonder what it’d feel like to let him touch you, like, really touch you. maybe your brain goes quiet when he calls you pretty. maybe you’re scared of what that means.
maybe you don’t know if you’re confused about him, or just confused about yourself.
and soobin? oh, soobin wants you in ways he can’t say out loud.
it is not sweet, nor soft. no, he wants you in the most carnal way a person can want someone. wants your thighs around his face. wants to hear you whimper. wants to fuck the brat right out of you. and it’s hell, you know, being your friend.
because you’re always touching him. always looking at him like he’s just soobin, your favorite pillow, your emotional support boy. you straddle his lap like it means nothing. call him baby when you’re tipsy. you whisper in his ear at parties like you’re telling him secrets, when really it’s just to feel your lips on his neck. he knows what you’re doing. or maybe you don’t. maybe you’re just like this. maybe you really don’t know what you do to him.
but he does, because he thinks about it way too often. you on your knees. you moaning his name. your lipgloss smeared across his skin. and he hates himself for it, for the way his cock aches just from being around you. for the way he jerks off after you leave his apartment, like some sad, pathetic, friendzoned loser. he wants to blame you, but he can’t. it’s not your fault you’re like this.
and tonight’s the worst. today is taehyun’s birthday party. everyone’s sweating through their clothes and the floor’s sticky and someone’s already puked in the sink. but you look unreal, you always do. little black skirt, bare thighs, something sparkly on your chest. and of course soobin wants to bite you.
you’re drunk, but not too drunk. just buzzed enough to be mean about it. to smile at him with that lipglossed mouth and say shit like: “you know you’re stupid hot, right?”
he freezes. “what?”
you grin. lean in, real close. “you heard me.”
he tries not to react. tries to keep his eyes on your face and not the way your fingers trail down his arm. but his skin’s buzzing, and you’re everywhere. your perfume, your voice, your thighs on his. you’re pressing into him like you want him to do something. and fuck, he almost does. but you’re gone again, like you always are. off to refill your drink, or to dance, or to do whatever the fuck you do when you’re tipsy and glowing and unstoppable.
he finds you later in the kitchen. kissing some girl against the counter, all teeth and tongue and fingers knotted in hair. and he shouldn’t be surprised. he’s not surprised. he’s just, well. soobin is hard.
and ashamed. and dizzy with it. so he turns away. drinks whatever’s in his cup. vodka? piss? who cares.
an hour later, you sit on his lap like nothing happened. like you didn’t just let some other girl bite your neck while he watched. like he isn’t the one unraveling.
“hey,” you whisper. one arm around his shoulders, nails grazing the back of his neck. “you okay?” he doesn’t answer. you tilt your head. “what’re you thinking about?”
he says it before he can stop himself. “don’t know what to say to you,” he breathes. “i feel… you’re always on my mind.”
you freeze for a second. then your face softens. not in the way he wants. “soobin…” you laugh, too gentle. “i’m really not that into guys.”
the words hit like a blade to the gut. or maybe like a jump scare in one of those shitty 1980s horror films you always make him watch. the kind where someone’s about to get gutted, but the music’s still cheerful. like the world doesn’t know something awful is happening.
and he’s sitting there, hard as a rock, hands on your waist, and he can’t even move. just smiles, swallows it down. lets the blood drain from his chest to somewhere lower. because fuck it, right? because he wants you so bad he’ll take anything. even this.
but after that night, things started to change inside you.
you didn’t want to admit it, not even to yourself. you played it off, laughed it off, because that’s what you always do when things get a little too real. but something shifted, something you didn’t know how to name. but you weren’t stupid. you knew what you were doing that night. you were drunk, yes. but not that drunk. just loose enough to let your hands wander. just tipsy enough to call soobin pretty and pretend it didn’t mean anything. just bold enough to climb into his lap and act like you belonged there.
and god, the way he looked at you. he always looked at you soft. like you were something delicate, something sacred. but that night? something in his eyes was darker. heavier. something that made your stomach flip and your thighs press together just a little.
you liked it, you fucking liked it. and then you said it — i’m really not that into guys — and watched it hit him like a punch to the face. you weren’t lying. well, not entirely. you are bi. you always have been. but it’s been a long time since a man made you feel anything. it’s been years since one touched you and your body responded like this. and it’s not like you didn’t try, you did. dates, hookups, situationships. they all fizzled out into nothing. no spark. no heat. just another guy thinking he deserved something just for showing up.
but soobin isn’t like them. soobin is sweet. soobin holds your hand when you’re hungover and makes playlists for your moods and never pushes, never assumes, never demands. he’s soft-spoken, polite, too damn good for his own sanity. and maybe that’s why you liked teasing him so much. maybe that’s why you started testing your limits.
you knew he liked you. he never said it, but it clung to everything he did. the way he lingered when you touched him. the way he looked away when you changed clothes in front of him, but not too fast. the way he let you flirt and flirt and flirt, and never told you to stop.
and well, you’re a little fucked up, you know that. you like playing with fire just to see how long it takes to burn. and with soobin? soobin had this face, all soft lashes and pink lips and that stupid shy smile, and yet you knew he wasn’t innocent, no, not really. you’d catch him looking sometimes, like really looking. not just at your face, but at your thighs. your chest. your mouth. the hunger was there, hiding behind the sweet boy act.
and it did something to you, something ugly. something hot.
so you started to lean in closer when you talked to him. started calling him baby more often, just to see how his ears turned red. you wore shorts that barely covered anything when he came over. you let your fingers linger a little too long on his hand when you passed him things. and when you caught him staring, you smiled.
but you told yourself it was just fun. you told yourself you were figuring things out, seeing if your body could still want a guy. if your brain could still go there. and if it was anyone else, you probably would’ve pulled away already. but it’s soobin, and you trust him. and that’s what makes it worse. because now every time you’re alone together, you can feel it crackling between you. every laugh, every brush of skin, every too-long stare— it all builds and builds until you feel like your bones might snap from the pressure of not doing anything.
you wake up thinking about his mouth. you fall asleep wondering how he tastes. you touch yourself and pretend it’s still just curiosity. you don’t know what this makes you. don’t know if you’re into him, or just into how he makes you feel. don’t know if you want him because it’s him… or because your body is begging for something and he’s the first person to really look at you like he’s starving.
and maybe that’s the scariest part. not wanting him, but not knowing why you want him.
so you text him two nights later.
[you]: hey, movie night?
[you]: u owe me horror and gore
he answers in under five minutes.
[soobin]: omw
you stare at the message longer than necessary, because you don’t know what you’re doing. but also— you know exactly what you’re doing.
you pick the movie carefully, not something classy. the slumber party massacre. a cult slasher soaked in tits and blood and bad acting. the kind of movie that makes you feel sticky just watching it. the kind of movie you’d make fun of together. the kind of movie where sexual tension is part of the plot, of course
you throw on a hoodie and tiny shorts. not for him, not really. you just want to be comfortable. or you just want to see what happens.
and when soobin shows up, he looks like he always does. hoodie, sweats, his hair slightly messed up from the wind. but his eyes flick to your legs when you open the door. just for a second. and that’s all it takes. that second burns straight through you.
“hey,” he says, voice a little too low.
“you brought snacks?” you ask, already turning your back to him, pretending your skin isn’t hot.
“yeah,” he says, and when you glance back, he’s still standing there, holding the chips awkwardly, like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.
“you ever seen the slumber party massacre?” you ask, flopping onto your bed.
soobin blinks. “uh, yeah. tits and blood, right?”
you grin. “exactly.”
you settle on your bed with the laptop open, lights off except for the screen’s dim glow. he kicks off his shoes and joins you, back against the pillows, a little too far from you. he swears his heart skips. or maybe it’s his dick. hard to tell.
you don’t say anything, you just press play. and the movie starts. basically: girls scream, clothes come off, fake blood splashes across the screen. it’s stupid. you’ve seen it before. but you don’t care. because all you can feel is the space between your bodies.
you stretch your legs out and let one brush against his thigh. you pretend it’s accidental. it’s not. he stiffens a little, but doesn’t pull away. fifteen minutes in, you shift closer. your bare thigh fully pressed to his now. he still doesn’t move, but his breathing changes, though. a little shallower. you don’t look at him, not yet. you lean your head back, neck exposed, hoodie slipping off one shoulder.
you’re not watching the movie anymore. you’re watching him watch the movie. he’s tense and quiet, too quiet. and then one of the girls on screen moans — loud and ridiculous and obviously fake — and you can practically feel soobin’s whole body flinch beside you.
you turn to him, finally, and your voice comes out low. teasing. “you okay?”
he nods, too quickly. “mhm.”
you smile and lean in a little closer. “you’re so jumpy. it’s just a dumb movie.”
he swallows hard. “yeah, i know.”
and then silence again. well, except it’s not silence. it’s the sound of his breath catching every time you shift. the rustle of sheets when your leg slides higher against his. the creak of the bed when you lean into his side and pretend not to notice how he holds himself like he’s about to explode. you rest your chin on his shoulder. your lips brush his neck. again— just pretend.
your eyes are half-lidded as you stare at the screen, though you’ve long since stopped registering anything happening in the movie. he’s so still beside you it’s almost funny, like he thinks if he doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe too loudly, the tension will somehow break on its own. but you feel him. the way his thigh tenses beneath yours. the way his hands are clenched, fingers digging into his own leg. the way he keeps his eyes on the screen like he’s being tested. like this is some exam he has to pass.
“you still think this movie’s just tits and blood?” you ask voice low, teasing. your lips graze the curve of his neck just slightly as you speak, enough to make him flinch.
he lets out a sound, half a laugh, half a breath he’d been holding. “that’s literally all it is,” he says, but his voice is tight, a little hoarse, like it’s caught on something he’s not saying. “plot? never heard of her.”
you grin, slow and lazy. “right. because you only watch movies for the plot.”
“i do, actually.” he turns his head a little, just enough to glance at you, and you catch the flicker of something in his eyes, maybe amusement, restraint, a quiet kind of want that makes your stomach flip. “that’s why i’m here. for the deep narrative of slumber party massacre.”
you laugh, you can’t help it. “mm, yeah. so insightful.”
“exactly,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping (not very subtly) to your mouth. “truly… cinematic.”
there’s a beat of silence where neither of you speaks, where the only sound is the girl on screen screaming as a power drill tears through a door. you shift closer again, just barely, and his breath catches. you can feel the way the air between you is thick. the push and pull of something neither of you wants to name.
you smile, almost wicked, and lean into him fully now, your weight settling half across his chest, your hand resting on his stomach, too casual to be casual at all. you can feel the tension in him, the way his body is coiled tight, like he’s holding himself back from something. “hey..” you whisper, voice syrupy and low. “you uncomfortable?”
he swallows hard. “no,” he says, way too fast. “why would i be?”
you let your fingers drag slowly, lazily over the hem of his hoodie. “dunno. you just seem kinda… stiff.”
you know you’re being cruel. you know exactly what you’re doing, and part of you hates yourself for it. and the other part (the louder one) is trying to make sense of the chaos inside you, the confusion, the heat, the sudden ache that’s been gnawing at you ever since that night at the party. you tell yourself this is about clarity, you just want to know.
he exhales sharply, like he’s trying to keep himself from combusting. “you’re really playing with fire right now,” he mutters, half under his breath.
you tilt your head again, wide-eyed and fake-innocent. “me? i would never.”
he turns to you then and suddenly he’s close, so close that his nose almost brushes yours, and all the tension from before condenses into a single, dangerous moment. “are you really not that into guys?” he asks, low and careful, like he’s trying to sound casual but can’t quite pull it off. “or are you just… not into me?”
the words hit harder than you expect. you blink, thrown for a second. you were playing a game, but suddenly you’re not sure what the rules are anymore. and he doesn’t move, doesn’t look away. he’s not teasing now, he’s just waiting. you open your mouth, then close it again. because what the hell are you supposed to say? you could lie. you could laugh it off. you could flirt your way out of it like you always do. but you don’t. because suddenly you feel a little sick, like something’s lodged in your chest.
“i…” you start, but your voice cracks, and you have to look away. you pull back just slightly, your hand slipping off his stomach, and the loss of contact makes you feel cold. “i don’t know.”
and that’s the truth, and it’s the worst answer you could give. but soobin doesn’t respond right away. he just watches you for a moment, eyes sharp, mouth tight. “you know,” he says finally, voice low and calm in that dangerous way, “i can’t keep pretending this is nothing. that you don’t know what you’re doing.”
your breath hitches. “i didn’t mean to—”
“yes, you did,” he cuts in, not harsh, but not gentle either. “you did mean to. you do it all the time.”
you want to argue, but you can’t. because he’s right. “i don’t know what i want,” you admit, your voice small now. “it’s not about you. it’s not— it’s not because i don’t think about you. i do. i think about you more than i should.”
he exhales slowly. “then stop acting like it’s a joke.”
you look up at him, and suddenly he’s too close again, and the space between your bodies feels like it might collapse. “i’m just... scared,” you whisper, and it’s the first honest thing you’ve said all night.
his expression softens, not completely, not enough to erase the frustration and the want, but enough to remind you who he is. that it’s soobin. that he’s not going to take advantage. that he just wants you to be sure. “then say that,” he says gently. “don’t play with me.”
you don’t say anything at first. you just sit there with your hands in your lap like some kind of penitent virgin, like you weren’t half on top of him five seconds ago whispering in his ear like a tease. it’s funny, in a pathetic kind of way. you don’t even realize how obvious it is, how you’re still pressed up against him, still breathing like you ran a mile, still watching his mouth like it might do something terrible. and soobin? soobin’s done pretending he doesn’t notice.
“you know what your problem is?” he says, voice calm in a way that’s somehow more dangerous than yelling.
you blink. “um—”
he leans in just slightly, not enough to touch, but close enough to make you feel it. “you think you can keep playing these games with me and i’m just gonna sit here and take it.”
your stomach flips. “i wasn’t—”
“you weren’t?” he cuts in, tone sharp now. “what was that then? just casual flirting with your friend since you are 'not that into guys’? calling me baby and crawling into my lap and rubbing up against me during a fucking slasher movie? just normal behavior?”
you open your mouth. close it again. because yeah. yeah, okay. you have no argument. he laughs, humorless. “you want to know what i think?”
you don’t, you really don’t, but you nod anyway. he shifts his body, finally, his legs opening just slightly, taking up more space, spine straighter now, eyes locked on you like he’s finally tired of pretending he’s not starving. he doesn’t touch you, not yet, but every inch of his posture says he could. would, if you let him.
“i think you like pretending you’re in control,” he says. “i think you like pushing me just far enough to feel powerful. but you never let it go further, because then it’s real. and if it’s real, you can’t hide behind your sexuality crisis or your drunk-girl flirty bullshit.”
you suck in a sharp breath. “wow.”
“yeah,” he says. “wow.”
there’s a long pause. you don’t move, but your skin’s buzzing, your thighs pressed together like that’ll help. it won’t. your whole body’s betraying you. and the worst part is that he knows. because he continues: “but here’s the thing,” he continues, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “you’re not in control. not anymore.”
“oh?” you shoot back, voice a little thinner than you want. “and you are?”
he tilts his head, eyes dark now, smile lazy. “wanna find out?”
you hate him. you hate that your legs feel weak and your face is hot and your stomach is doing flips like you’re seventeen and he’s the first boy who ever looked at you like he meant it. you swallow hard. “you think i’m scared of you?”
“i know you’re scared of how bad you want me,” he says, and it’s not cocky. it’s not a guess. it’s a goddamn fact.
and you hate that he’s right. so you laugh, mostly to cover the way your heart is slamming in your chest. “you’re full of yourself.”
“maybe,” he shrugs. “but you’re still sitting in my lap like, so.”
you blink. your brain short-circuits a little. “jesus christ.”
“say the word,” he says, voice dropping just enough to make your spine tingle. “say it and i’ll stop. we can finish the movie, you can pretend you’re totally unbothered, and i’ll go home like nothing happened.”
you look at him, and he’s still soobin. your sweet, smart, quietly hot friend who lets you paint his nails and listens to your drunk girl rants and always brings the right snacks. except now his eyes are blown wide, his lips are parted, and he’s looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. you’re not used to this version of him, but god, it’s doing something to you.
“i’m not saying stop,” you whisper, and it sounds like a confession.
he grins, slow and dangerous. “didn’t think so.”
you don’t have time to think before he moves. he’s grabbing your waist and pulling you into his lap like you weigh nothing. just grabs you, shifts you over until you’re straddling him, knees on either side of his thighs, face inches from his. like it’s easy, like he’s done it before.
your breath catches in your throat. your hands find his shoulders out of instinct, grounding yourself, but your head is spinning, because he’s so close. his hoodie smells like laundry detergent and something distinctly him, and you’re hyper-aware of how warm his hands feel on your hips, how his thumbs drag slowly against the waistband of your shorts like he’s barely restraining himself.
“you okay?” he asks, but there’s no softness in his voice this time. just control. “still playing?”
you blink at him, wide-eyed. “i’m not—”
“don’t lie,” he cuts in, eyes dark and steady on yours. “not now.”
your lips part, but no sound comes out. you can feel the tension in your own body of the pull, the ache, the raw want that’s been building for weeks, maybe months, maybe longer than you care to admit. and now it’s all boiling under your skin. he leans back slightly against the pillows, relaxed now, one hand still heavy on your hip. his other arm stretches behind his head, the picture of composure, like he’s not losing his mind with you sitting like this on top of him.
“so,” he says, almost lazily, like this is just another dumb conversation between friends. “what do you like?”
you blink. “what?”
“sexually,” he clarifies, casual as anything, like he’s asking what your favorite color is. “what do you like? do you even know?” you swallow hard and he tilts his head, watching you. “you’ve been playing this game for weeks. teasing me, acting like you don’t notice when i’m hard because you’re grinding on me. so i wanna know. is it just for fun? or do you actually get off on this?”
your cheeks burn. you should get up, you should say something. instead, you shift slightly in his lap, barely, and his hands tighten on your waist in warning. “don’t do that unless you’re ready to take responsibility,” he says, voice lower now, dangerous. “you wanted to know how i feel? this is it.”
you bite your lip, heart pounding. you feel too exposed, even fully dressed. like he’s peeled something open inside you and now there’s nowhere to hide. “you’re being mean,” you whisper.
he grins, sharp and slow. “good. someone’s gotta stop letting you play dumb.” you stare at him, chest tight, skin buzzing. “so,” he says again, voice softer now but no less intense. “what do you like?”
you hesitate. not because you don’t know, but because saying it out loud would make it real. and he watches your face, expression unreadable. and then he leans in again, voice low in your ear. “tell me what you want,” he murmurs. “or nothing happens. i’m not gonna touch you unless you ask for it.”
you don’t mean to move, not really, but your hips shift slightly, like your body’s trying to answer for you. your lips part, and for a second, you just breathe. you’re not sure where your voice went. everything’s tight in your throat, but soobin doesn’t rush you. he just waits, watching you from below with a look that’s way too composed for someone whose thighs you’re currently sitting on.
“i…” you start, barely above a whisper. “i like…”
he arches an eyebrow, the faintest hint of a smirk pulling at his mouth. “yeah?”
you glare at him, cheeks burning. “don’t be smug.”
“i’m literally just sitting here,” he says, all innocent, like his fingers aren’t gripping your hips like a fucking anchor. “you’re the one grinding on me.”
you huff, exasperated, but your body betrays you again— your thighs tighten, your nails dig lightly into his shoulders. you lean in closer so you don’t have to look at him full in the eyes when you say it. “i like…” you pause, then exhale hard. “i like being in control. usually.”
he hums. “yeah?”
“with girls,” you clarify, quieter now. “it’s just always been easier. they… let me lead.”
soobin’s eyes flicker darker, but he keeps the same calm expression on his face, his voice steady. “so you’re a top,” he says, teasing, like he’s just making an observation about the weather.
you roll your eyes. “not like that.”
“no?” he tilts his head. “how then?”
you bite your lip, struggling for the words. “i mean— i like the dynamic. i like girls with that…” your voice drops. “with that… innocent face. it’s hot.”
you feel soobin’s breath hitch under you, just barely. it makes your heart spike in your chest. he laughs softly, but there’s something sharp underneath it. “so is that how you see me?”
you finally meet his eyes. they’re unreadable now, but locked onto yours with a focus that makes your stomach twist. “no,” you say, and your voice is firmer this time. “you’re not like that.”
he hums again, this time low and slow. “so what am i like, then?”
you swallow, your hands sliding slightly down his arms. “you’re… harder to read. you play along, but i know you’re not passive. you pretend you don’t care, but i can feel it when you touch me.”
“yeah?” he says, fingers tightening just slightly at your waist. “and what does that make you?”
this time you don’t look away. “i don’t know,” you admit. “i like… control. but sometimes—” you pause, frustrated at how hard it is to say. “sometimes i like giving it up.”
“why?” he asks, and his voice is quieter now. not mean, just curious. like he genuinely wants to know what makes you tick.
you think about it. “it depends,” you say slowly, choosing your words with care. “on how the person treats me. if they make me feel safe or wanted. if they deserve it.”
his gaze doesn’t waver. “and am i treating you like that right now?”
that question hits somewhere deep, somewhere between your lungs and your core, and you can’t tell if it makes you want to run or stay forever, so you nod. and he smirks, not cruel, not cocky. just knowing. “good,” he says, voice low. “because i’m not trying to play pretend with you anymore.”
you nod again, smaller this time, your breath shaky. “i don’t want to play either.”
his thumb strokes gently along your side, slow and steady, grounding you. his other hand moves up to rest lightly against the back of your neck, just holding you there, close enough to feel his breath against your lips. “you like being in control,” he says, like he’s repeating it back just to make sure you know he heard you. “but you don’t need to be.”
you don’t answer out loud. your body answers for you, because your hips are rolling forward slightly without permission, the friction making you gasp. his grip tightens instantly, holding you in place. “ah ah,” he tuts, voice like velvet. “you still haven’t told me what you want.”
your head drops forward, forehead resting against his. “you’re so fucking annoying.”
he grins. “am i?”
you’re burning. your whole body is vibrating with need and frustration and anticipation. you feel like you’re going to scream if he doesn’t do something, or let you do something. “i want you to touch me,” you whisper, barely audible.
he leans in just a bit more. “gonna have to say that louder, baby.”
you grit your teeth. “fuck you.”
he smiles sweetly. “you wish.”
your fingers tighten in the fabric of his hoodie. your thighs are trembling now, and you’re so wound up you feel like your skin might split open. you inhale shakily, close your eyes, and say it again. louder this time. clearer. “i want you to touch me.”
you feel the way his breath catches, like even he wasn’t prepared to hear you say it like that. and then his voice drops, low and hot in your ear.
“good girl.”
you almost moan at his words, but you bite your lips and hold yourself back. his hands rest on your thighs like they live there. his thumb draws slow, absent circles against your skin, barely noticeable if your entire nervous system wasn’t screaming at you. his eyes are on you like he’s watching a storm roll in. and you’re trying not to come apart over a fucking stare. you shift a little, chasing friction, and he smirks immediately.
“comfortable?” he asks, voice too soft to be innocent.
you glare. “you’re enjoying this.”
“obviously,” he says. “you’re so easy to read it’s kind of adorable.”
you roll your eyes, annoyed and flustered, which only seems to please him more. his thumb trails higher, a little closer to the hem of your shorts, but doesn’t go any further. he’s doing this on purpose. you know he is.
“you’re not gonna kiss me?” you ask before you can stop yourself.
he raises an eyebrow, gaze flicking from your mouth to your eyes. “is that what you want?” your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. he smiles, slow and cruel and so fucking pretty. “then kiss me.” you freeze. his voice drops, lower now. “what? don’t get shy now.”
you want to hit him. you want to kiss him. you want to melt into him. mostly, you want him to stop talking. but you don’t move. so soobin leans in and exhales. “or do you just want me to do everything for you?”
you swallow hard. “you’re insufferable.”
he hums, grinning. his hand moves again, dragging up the back of your thigh, slow and deliberate, until he’s cupping the underside of it, holding you just a little tighter. “you gonna kiss me or what?” he asks again, voice practically a purr. “or are you scared of that too?”
“i’m not scared.”
“then what’s stopping you?”
you stare at him. you can feel your pulse everywhere — in your neck, your wrists, between your legs. he’s right there. he’s asking for it. and still, you hesitate. so he keeps going. “you want it to be me?” he asks, fingers now pressing into your thigh a little rougher. “you want me to make the first move? pin you down? take it from you?” you shiver. “i could,” he adds. “but i won’t. not until you ask for it.”
his words hit low and deep, and you can’t tell if your thighs are shaking from nerves or want. maybe both. so you reach up, slow and hesitant, and brush your fingers along his jaw. he doesn’t move, he just waits. and when you finally lean in and kiss him, it’s like biting into lightning.
he doesn’t move at first. lets you kiss him, tentative, searching, like he wants to see how far you’ll go on your own. but when your fingers curl into the collar of his hoodie and your hips shift forward instinctively, he groans low in his throat and grabs your waist tight. his mouth moves against yours like he’s been waiting. like he’s been holding back for weeks and now he’s finally letting himself want. well, because he is. so he kisses rougher, deeper, his tongue slipping into your mouth like it belongs there. and when you whimper, he pulls back just barely, breathing hard.
“that what you wanted?” he asks, voice ragged now. you nod, dazed. he kisses the corner of your mouth. your jaw. down your neck. everywhere but where you’re begging for it. “you’re gonna have to be more specific,” he murmurs against your skin. “i wanna hear exactly what you like.”
your hips grind down again. he grips your thighs harder, holds you in place. “you like being on top?” he asks, almost amused.
you nod, biting your lip. “sometimes.”
“but not tonight?” he asks, tilting his head. “you want me to take over, baby?” you can’t speak. you just breathe and nod. he grins. “you know what to do then.”
you press your forehead to his, shaky and desperate and so ready to say it. “please,” you whisper. “i want you.”
“how bad?” he asks.
“i can’t think,” you breathe. “i need you to do something.”
he chuckles — low, smug, wrecked. “good. now we’re getting somewhere.”
his hand is on your throat before you even process it. not squeezing, just resting there, firm enough to feel the beat of your pulse against his palm. he holds your gaze steady with his, like he’s daring you to pull away. you don’t. your breath comes out shaky and uneven, and his thumb strokes just once along the column of your neck. “say it again,” he murmurs, voice low and unforgiving.
you swallow hard. “need you to do something. please.”
he nods once, like that’s all he needed. his other hand slides up under your hoodie, knuckles brushing the bare skin of your waist. his fingers are cold at first, but the way they move is purposeful, not searching, not unsure. he knows what he’s doing. he drags his hand up slowly, deliberately, until his palm rests just under your bra.
“like this?” he asks, thumb teasing the edge of the fabric. “or do you want more?”
you gasp, breath catching. “more.”
he grins, lazy and infuriating. “thought so.”
he slides your hoodie up, not bothering to take it off, just pushing it out of the way enough to get what he wants. his hands move with a kind of patience that makes you ache, like he’s got all the time in the world to make you lose your mind. he cups your breasts through the thin fabric, thumbing over your nipple until it hardens beneath his touch. you arch into it without thinking. “you like that?” he asks, voice close to your ear.
“yes.”
“say it.”
“i like it.”
his hand dips lower, sliding down your stomach, teasing the waistband of your shorts. his fingers toy with the edge like he’s still deciding if he’s going to keep going. “you want me to take these off too?”you nod, dizzy. he clicks his tongue. “use your words.”
“yes. take them off.”
he drags them down slowly, watching your face the whole time. he wants to see everything— the way your lips part, the way your body tenses when he touches you, the way you shiver when the fabric brushes down your legs. you kick them off and now you’re in nothing but your underwear, straddling him, your hoodie still half pushed up, breath coming in shaky bursts.
“fuck,” he mutters, more to himself than you. “you’re really just gonna sit here looking like that and expect me to behave?”
“i like it,” you manage to say.
he smirks. “of course you do.”
his hands slide down slow, fingers splaying wide as they skim the sides of your thighs, tracing the shape of you like he’s memorizing it. and then they’re under your ass, lifting you just enough so he can shift your panties to the side, fingers brushing over where you’re wet and aching. he whistles low, mouth curling into a grin. “fuck,” he mutters. “you really needed this, didn’t you?”
you let out a shaky breath, gripping his shoulders like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. your whole body jolts at the first real contact, the drag of his fingers through your folds, slow and sure, like he’s testing what you can handle. “so wet for me already,” he murmurs, circling your clit with maddening precision. “and i haven’t even done anything yet.”
he rubs slow circles with the heel of his palm, watching you squirm. your hips jerk instinctively, but his hands pin you down. he keeps you still, makes you feel every slow movement, every teasing glide. he’s not in a rush. you might be desperate, but he isn’t. not anymore. still, he slips a finger inside you, slow, deliberate, and your whole body tightens around him. he groans low in his throat.
“tight,” he mutters, adding a second finger without warning. “jesus. you’d fall apart if i fucked you right now.” you moan, breathless. “you’d let me, wouldn’t you?” he says, curling his fingers just right. “after all that teasing.”
“yes—”
his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing tight, lazy circles as his fingers fuck into you deep and steady. you can’t breathe, can’t think, just clutch at him like you’re drowning. and then he leans in close, voice a growl against your ear. “you need someone to put you in your place,” he says. “you act like you’re in charge, but look at you now. look how easy it is to break you.”
your thighs tremble around his hips, pleasure building sharp and fast, overwhelming. “you like being handled like this, don’t you?” he asks again, his tone dark, laced with smug delight.
“yes,” you gasp, hips twitching.
“of course you do,” he says. “you like being fucked slow. deep. with a hand on your throat so you remember who’s in charge.” his other hand slides up again, fingers wrapping gently around your neck and your whole body tenses in response. “you make everything so difficult,” he says. “all your mixed signals, all your little games. but this? this is simple. this is what you really wanted.”
your walls clench around his fingers as your body tips over the edge, sudden and hard and overwhelming. your mouth falls open in a moan you can’t stop, hips jerking despite the grip he has on you. he doesn’t let up. just keeps fucking you through it, watching your face the whole time.
“look at you,” he breathes. “so fucking pretty like this. i should’ve done this a long time ago.” your body’s shaking when he finally slows down. he pulls his fingers out and brings them to his lips, licking them clean like he’s tasting something expensive. “mm,” he says. “sweet.”
you stare at him, wrecked and speechless, still trying to remember how your lungs work. then he leans in, takes his fingers back to your clenching cunt again, his voice rough in your ear. “tell me how it feels.”
you grip his shoulders tighter, fingers digging into the fabric of his hoodie. “it feels good.”
“how good?”
“i don’t know—fuck—soobin—”
he presses a little harder, the friction just right now, and your hips jerk again. “you like when i touch you here?” he asks, eyes locked on yours, no trace of softness in his voice.
“yes,” you breathe. “yes, i do.”
his fingers slide between your folds, slick and warm, and he lets out a low groan. “fuck,” he mutters again. “you’re soaked.” you whimper, forehead dropping to his shoulder. his fingers move with ease, finding your clit again and circling it with infuriating slowness.
“look at me,” he says. you lift your head, barely. your eyes meet his, and the intensity there nearly knocks the air out of your lungs. he curls his fingers inside you, hitting just the right spot, and you cry out before you can stop yourself. your hips grind down, chasing the pressure. “needy little thing,” he says, amused. “so much for being in control.”
you whimper again, half shame, half desperation. he’s relentless now, thrusting his fingers in and out while his thumb circles your clit, pushing you higher, closer. “soobin—”
“tell me you’re close.”
“i’m close,” you breathe, eyes squeezing shut.
he leans in again, lips ghosting over your ear. “then say please.” you hesitate, and his pace slows. “come on,” he murmurs. “you’ve been bossing me around for months. let me hear you beg.”
you’re shaking now, thighs trembling around him, every nerve on fire. “please,” you whisper.
“louder.”
“please, soobin—please don’t stop.”
his mouth curves into a grin, and he gives you exactly what you asked for. “good girl,” he says again, and this time, you fall apart in his fingers, and god, this feeling is smoothing, something you don’t remember feeling it before.
you’re still in his lap, limbs loose, head buzzing, the movie’s looping on the laptop like background noise at a bad dream rave. his hand is parked on your waist—heavy but not pushing, more placeholder than threat—and you can’t decide if you’re melting into him or trying to keep from slipping clean off the planet.
he’s the one who breaks the hush. “you’re thinking again,” he says, voice low.
you don’t look at him. “i’m recovering.”
“that’s what i’m worried about.” his thumb taps a slow beat against your skin. “every time you start thinking, you talk yourself out of wanting me.”
you snort, tired and raw. “i literally just made a mess on your hand. i think the wanting part is confirmed.”
“for now,” he says. “in ten minutes you’ll start reciting the ‘i’m not that into guys’ speech again, and i’ll be back at square one.”
you lift your eyes, glare half-heartedly. “square one was me calling you pretty in a kitchen full of tequila fumes. i’d say we’ve upgraded.”
“fine,” he admits, lips twitching. “square two, then. still a demotion from where i’m sitting.”
you finally meet his gaze, and it is clear, unflinching, annoyingly perceptive, and something inside you trips. the room tilts a millimeter. because you realize he isn’t holding you tighter, he isn’t trying to start round two, he’s just… waiting.
the silence stretches. your brain tries to sprint off a cliff, but your body’s too heavy to follow. so you talk, because you can’t not. “i’m not gonna pretend i’m suddenly into guys again,” you say, words slurred around honesty. “and i’m definitely not in love with you, so don’t get weird.”
“bold of you to assume i want either,” he shoots back, all teeth.
you blink. “you don’t?”
“i like you messy,” he says, shrugging one shoulder. “in love is boring. this—” he gestures to the tangle of limbs and shame you’re both stewing in— “this is entertaining.”
you should probably punch him. instead you laugh, breathless. “you are absolutely dirty.”
he smiles, small but real. “dirty keeps you on my lap, apparently.”
you roll your eyes, shift, realize he’s still hard beneath you and freeze. he notices, of course he does, and tilts his head, studying your face. “thinking again,” he murmurs.
“wondering,” you correct, voice thin.
“about?”
“if i should, um… help you?”
his brows lift. “help?” he echoes, amused. “sound mighty altruistic of you.”
“shut up,” you mutter, cheeks burning. “i’m new at this.”
“new at what?”
“wanting a guy enough to… you know.”
he hums, all fake contemplation. “we could have a symposium. ‘introduction to blowing choi soobin.’” you smack his chest; he laughs, catches your wrist, threads your fingers through his. the joke dissolves, but the warmth sticks. “we can slow down,” he says, quieter now. “or stop. or order pizza. i don’t care—just don’t ghost me.”
you stare at him, throat tight. “i don’t want to stop,” you whisper.
his thumb strokes the back of your hand. “good. then tell me how you want to start.”
the question hangs there, simple but also terrifying. your pulse trips a little faster. “kiss me again,” you answer, voice steadier than you feel. “but slow.”
“slow.” he nods, serious. “any further instructions, boss?”
“don’t call me boss,” you mutter.
“princess?” you glare.
“soobin,” you warn.
his grin spreads, wolfish. “see? thinking stopped. progress.”
he leans in (slow, like requested) and kisses you softer than before, mouths parting, breath catching, no rush. your hands slide up into his hair, anchor there; his free hand cups the back of your neck, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. and when you finally pull back, you’re trembling again, but it’s a quieter shake.
his eyes search yours. “so?”
you laugh into his shoulder. “shut up and keep going.”
“sure,” he whispers, mouth brushing yours, “but remember—if you want more, you ask.”
you nod, firm. “i will. i promise.”
you don’t remember when his hands started moving again, but they’re under your hoodie again now. his mouth is still pressed against yours, but the kiss has changed. it’s deeper and slower. and he’s not letting you lead anymore. he tilts your chin up with one hand, holds you there like he’s adjusting the angle of something he owns. his other hand slides along your spine, dragging heat everywhere it touches.
his hands slide back down to your hips, pulling you toward him until you’re close enough to feel everything again. he shifts his leg just slightly between yours and applies the lightest pressure, forcing you to roll your hips against his thigh. your mouth falls open without meaning to.
“feels good?” he asks, low.
“yeah,” you whisper.
he hums, unimpressed. “what was that?”
“yes,” you say again, louder.
his hand moves to the back of your neck. not rough, just enough to hold you still. to keep you looking at him. “you’re gonna do what i say,” he says. “because you want to. not because i make you.” you nod. “say it.”
“i want to,” you whisper.
“you want what?”
“i want to do what you say.”
he smiles. “then take your hoodie off.”
your hands move before your brain catches up. you pull it over your head, toss it to the floor. your chest is rising and falling too fast, and he’s just sitting there, watching you like you’re a puzzle he’s already solved.
his gaze drags over your body, slow and hungry, but he still doesn’t touch. instead, he leans back slightly and says, “take off your bra.”
your fingers fumble a little, but you do it. it joins the hoodie on the floor. he exhales like it’s the first time he’s allowed himself to. and then he looks you in the eyes again. your body’s humming, nerves and heat and need all tangled together. his hands slide up to cup your chest, thumbs brushing over your nipples, slow and deliberate. he watches every twitch of your face as he touches you.
“you like being told what to do?” he asks, voice low, dragging.
“yeah.”
he raises an eyebrow. “say it.”
“i like being told what to do.”
he kisses you slow one last time before pulling back. “then get off,” he says quietly.
you blink, breathless, already lightheaded. “what?”
he tilts his head. “off my lap. on your knees. on the floor.”
you stare for half a second. then your body moves before your brain can argue. you climb off the bed and drop down onto the floor between his legs, palms pressing into the hardwood for balance. your knees hit the floor, and the air shifts.
he exhales like the sight alone is enough to wreck him. his legs spread wider, slow, deliberate, and he leans forward a little, one hand cupping the side of your face. his thumb drags along your cheek, down to your lip. “look at you,” he murmurs. “you ever been on your knees for a guy before?” you shake your head. he smiles. smirks, really. “good.”
his thumb presses against your bottom lip, slipping inside just slightly. your mouth parts for him on instinct. “open,” he says, and you do. he pushes his thumb in deeper, then pulls it out just as slow. “good girl.”
your breath stutters. he leans forward more, one elbow resting on his thigh as he looks down at you. “you’re doing so well for me. on your knees, waiting for what i give you. you don’t even know how pretty you look like this.” his other hand slides into your hair, not hard, but firm. guiding and steady. you can feel how calm he is—like this is just natural for him. like having someone kneeling between his legs is a position he was meant for. “hands behind your back,” he says.
you obey, slowly, feeling the shift in your own body when you do. your balance changes. your chest pushes forward slightly. your breath feels deeper and needier. he smiles. “you want to do something for me?”
“yes,” you whisper.
“then ask.” your throat tightens. he leans closer, almost nose-to-nose, his voice a quiet threat. “ask me what you want, baby.”
“can i…” your voice breaks. you swallow. “can i touch you?”
he leans back, sits up straight, eyes heavy on yours. “you want to touch me?”
“yes.”
“where?”
your cheeks burn. “your cock.”
his breath hitches. he doesn’t show much, but that gets him. a shift in his jaw. a slight flex of his thigh. “say it again.”
you breathe in. “i want to touch your cock.”
he smiles. “then take it out.”
you move carefully, your hands now free again, fingers working his waistband, slow and precise. you don’t rush. he watches you the entire time, like you’re a performance made just for him. and when you finally pull him out, hard and heavy in your palm, his breath leaves in one long, quiet exhale.
you look up, eyes wide. “now what?” you ask, voice barely there.
he smirks again, hand back in your hair. “first, you keep those pretty eyes on mine the entire time,” he says, voice low and dark. his hand tightens just slightly in your hair, not painful, just present. like a reminder: he’s the one leading. “start slow,” he says, voice steady. “get used to the way i feel in your hand.”
you swallow, fingers wrapping around the base of his cock. he’s warm and heavy. hard enough to make your pulse spike just from the weight of him in your palm. you glance up. “like this?” you ask.
he nods once, but doesn’t say anything. just watches. the corner of his mouth lifts a little. proud, curious and patient. you start to stroke, slow and careful, your thumb brushing over the head like you’ve done this before—you did, but it’s different with him. he makes it feel deliberate, like every movement matters.
“good,” he murmurs. “tighter. don’t be scared.”
you adjust, hand squeezing a little more, sliding down and back up in a steady rhythm. you’re learning how he twitches, how his breath catches, how his thighs tense a little under your arms when you get the pressure right. he lets out a quiet groan.
“yeah. just like that,” he says, hand sliding to cradle the side of your face. his thumb traces your cheekbone. “you’re so fucking good at this, fuck—” you blush, ridiculous considering the situation, and he smirks. “you like hearing that?” he asks.
you nod. “yeah.”
he hums, thumb brushing your lips again. “then earn more of it.”
your hand speeds up slightly, bolder now. you’re watching him just as much as he’s watching you, studying every reaction. every flicker in his eyes, every tiny breath that tells you yes, this.
“spit on it,” he says suddenly, and your stomach flips. you glance up again. he looks right back, unblinking. “go ahead. don’t be shy.” you lean in, let spit fall from your lips, and he groans when it lands just right, messy and perfect. “fuck, that’s it,” he mutters, hips jerking slightly. “that mouth’s gonna ruin me.”
you stroke him again with your now-wet hand, and his jaw clenches. he leans forward, hand sliding back into your hair, this time with more grip.
“open your mouth,” he says. you do, lips parting obediently. he taps the tip of his cock against your tongue, slow, dragging it over your bottom lip, and you hold still, waiting, not rushing. letting him guide you. “don’t take me yet,” he says. “just taste.”
you lick him, slow and soft, and his eyes flutter half-closed. “again,” he says. his voice is lower now, strained. you lean forward more, lips wrapping around just the tip, sucking gently. “fuck,” he breathes, thumb brushing your cheek. “you keep looking at me like that and i’m gonna lose it.”
you moan softly around him, just enough to make him shudder. his hand tightens in your hair. “you want to keep going?” he asks. you nod, mouth still full, eyes wide. he groans again. “then you’re gonna take what i give you.”
and you do. you let him guide the rhythm, slow thrusts, shallow, letting you get used to the weight, the stretch. his grip is steady, voice low as he talks you through every inch. “you’re doing so well,” he murmurs. “look so fucking pretty on your knees like this. taking it like a good girl.”
you press your thighs together, pulse pounding in your ears. your whole body’s on fire, but you don’t stop. you keep your eyes on his. you let him control the pace. you listen. because nothing’s ever felt quite like this. he’s barely holding himself back now, his hips rolling deeper into your mouth, hand fisted in your hair, jaw clenched tight. your throat’s sore, your lips stretched, spit dripping from your chin, but you don’t stop. you don’t want to stop.
“fuck, that’s it,” he growls, voice sharp. “you like this, don’t you? like being used like this.”
you hum around him, and his whole body jolts. his other hand grips the edge of the bed like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. he’s panting now, jaw tight, eyes locked on yours as your head bobs with the rhythm he’s set.
“look at you,” he hisses. “so fucking obedient now. you’ll take anything i give you, won’t you?”
you nod, gagging just a little as he pushes deeper. his thumb brushes your cheek again, almost tender, but not soft. “shit, baby,” he groans. “just like that. don’t stop. don’t you fucking stop.” his breathing gets rougher. his thighs tense. his grip tightens. “you’re gonna take every fucking drop,” he says, voice low and wild. “don’t even think about pulling back.”
and when he comes, it’s with a broken, wrecked moan, his head falling back, his whole body shuddering. he holds you there, deep in your throat, as his cock pulses between your lips. you stay still. obedient. take every drop, exactly how he told you to. he pulls out slow, panting hard, watching you swallow every bit like it’s a reward.
“fuck,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “you’re dangerous.”
your legs are shaking, your body’s buzzing and your throat hurts. but your eyes are still on him. and he smiles.
he leans forward, grabs your arms, and pulls you off the floor like you weigh nothing. places you back in his lap, one hand still wrapped in your hair, the other gripping your thigh. his voice is calmer now, but darker.
“so?” he asks, breath still a little ragged. “you like praise better?”
you blink. “what?”
“you like when i call you a good girl?” he says, fingers brushing your jaw. “tell you how pretty you look on your knees?”
you nod, a little dazed. “yeah…”
his hand tightens suddenly on your thigh. “or do you like it more when i talk to you like a fucking toy?” your breath catches. his eyes narrow. “like when i say you’re only good for your mouth? that you were made to take cock and nothing else?” you gasp. your body tenses, and he sees the reaction instantly. his smirk spreads slow. “that’s what i thought,” he says.
your voice is barely a whisper. “i like both.”
he raises a brow. “yeah?”
you meet his gaze. “you can do whatever you want.”
his eyes darken completely. something in him shifts. he leans in close, voice like a promise against your skin. “you don’t know what you just agreed to.”
he hasn’t let go of you. your legs are thrown across his lap now, arms limp around his shoulders, your chest pressed to his. and still he’s got one hand curled around your jaw like he’s not done claiming it. he tilts your face up and studies you. not like you’re fragile, but like you’re fascinating.
he chuckles, meanly. “you look wrecked, baby. wrecked and all fucking mine.” his fingers trail down your neck, slow and soft. “you like when i say that?” he murmurs. “that you’re mine?”
you nod, small. “yeah.”
he kisses the edge of your jaw. “you like being good?”
“yes.”
he smirks against your skin. “but you also like when i treat you like a dumb little toy.” your whole body tenses. he chuckles again. “you fucking melt when i talk like that, huh?” he says. “wanna be praised and spat on in the same breath.”
he pulls back just enough to look at you. your face flushed, lips swollen, eyes wide and glassy. “fuck, you’re pretty when you don’t know what to do with yourself,” he says, almost admiring. “bet you don’t even know who you are when i touch you like this.”
his hand slides down your stomach—over the curve of your hip—back between your thighs, over your ruined underwear. you gasp and twitch. he grins. “yeah. that’s what i thought.” he presses just a little harder, fingers rubbing through the fabric. “still this wet for me? even after everything?”
you nod, biting your lip. he tsks, shaking his head. “you don’t learn, do you?”
you swallow, trembling. “i wanna be good.”
he chuckles. “you are. but you’re also a little desperate. greedy. filthy.” his fingers tug your panties to the side and slide against you again, slow, controlled, so light it makes you ache. “should i finger you again like this?” he says. “while you sit in my lap like a good girl? or should i bend you over and fuck the brat out of you?”
your breath catches in your throat. “or maybe i shouldn’t touch you at all,” he adds, tilting his head. “maybe you don’t get to come unless you beg.”
“soobin—”
he grabs your chin again, eyes sharp. “say it.”
you’re panting now. hot and flustered and completely under him. “please,” you whisper. he waits. “please touch me,” you say again, voice cracking. “please make me come.”
his smirk is slow. cruel. gorgeous. “that’s more like it.”he slides two fingers back inside you without warning, and your whole body jolts. “you’re gonna take everything i give you,” he murmurs. “and you’re gonna say thank you when you come.” your legs shake. your grip on his shirt tightens. “say it.”
“thank you,” you breathe.
he kisses you—filthy, fast—and then breaks away, breath hot against your mouth. “don’t come yet.”
he’s not moving fast. he’s not giving you what you want, not really. and that’s the point. he’s watching you, studying you, like he’s waiting for something specific. a crack. a shift. the moment where your body stops trying to lead and just listens. he leans back slightly, his fingers inside you don’t speed up, and they don’t slow down either. just deep enough to tease, never enough to let you lose yourself. he’s giving you nothing and everything at once.
he watches your face closely, eyes scanning your mouth, your eyebrows, the way your breath catches. you’re close, he knows it. he can feel the way your body tightens around him, the way your thighs shake just barely. you’re trying to hold back. trying not to move too much. it’s cute, in a way. respectful, obedient even. but he doesn’t want nice right now.
“you’re doing it again,” he says, voice low, calm.
your eyes flutter open, confused. “what?”
“holding it in,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your waist. “trying to be good in the wrong way.”
you blink, breath trembling. “i thought you wanted—”
he cuts you off with a quiet laugh, not mocking, just amused. “i want you to be good, yeah. but not quiet. not frozen. not careful.” his fingers slide deeper and you gasp, hips twitching. “good doesn’t mean silent.” he leans in, mouth near your ear. “if i wanted a doll, i’d buy one.”
your breath stutters. your hands grip his shoulders, nails digging in just slightly, and that makes him smile. “there you go,” he murmurs. “there’s my girl.” he moves his fingers again, just a little faster now, just enough to make your whole body jerk. you bite your lip hard, trying not to cry out. “still fighting it?” he says. “you think i don’t notice how tight you’re clenching around my hand? you think i don’t feel how close you are?”
you shake your head, desperate. he pulls back slightly to look at you. “look at me.” you do, barely. your vision’s blurry, and your mouth’s open, and you’re so close it almost hurts. “you wanna come?” he asks, calm. direct.
“yes,” you breathe.
“you sure?” you nod. his voice drops lower. “you ready to say thank you when you do?”
you nod again, more frantically. he keeps his eyes on yours as his thumb finally finds your clit, rubbing slow circles while his fingers thrust deeper. your whole body reacts at once, tensing, jerking, then unraveling.
“come for me,” he says, and you do.
it hits hard, sharp and blinding. your legs tremble. your fingers dig into his arms. your mouth opens but nothing comes out except broken gasps and a soft, choked sob. and through all of it, his hand doesn’t leave you. he works you through it, slow, steady, like he’s memorizing every second.
your body slumps against his chest. he holds you there for a moment, his hand still resting between your legs but not moving anymore. you’re breathing hard, face pressed into his shoulder. then his mouth finds your ear again. “thank me.”
you whisper it without thinking. “thank you.”
he exhales, satisfied. his fingers slip out of you, slow and careful. he brings them to his mouth, licking them clean without breaking eye contact. you watch, dazed, and he grins. “good girl.”
he lifts you gently, shifts you until you’re straddling him again, your knees on either side of his hips, your body still shaky. his hands hold your waist firmly, steadying you like he knows you can’t do it on your own yet.
he tilts your chin up, and there’s something new in his eyes now—still dark, still dominant, but softer around the edges. like he’s trying to decide something. “you were made for this,” he says, quiet. “you know that, right?”
you swallow hard. “yeah.”
his thumb brushes your cheek, and then he leans back, legs spread, hands resting on his thighs like he’s just relaxing, like he’s not watching every single twitch in your body. you’re still on his lap, still catching your breath when he says, low and steady, “get on.”
you look at him, confused, dazed. “what?”
he grabs your hips, drags you forward slightly, then leans in just enough for you to feel his breath on your jaw. “you like being on top, right?” he says, voice calm but full of something sharper underneath. “so ride me.”
your heart stutters. your thighs are still shaking. he knows.
“go ahead,” he says. “show me how good you are.”
you shift back slowly, thighs trembling, one hand steadying yourself on his chest while the other wraps around his cock. he’s already hard again—how is he already this hard?—and thick in your palm, warm and heavy. you hold him there, just under the tip, as you line yourself up, and for a second, you hesitate.
you bite your lip. your body’s still sensitive, your legs sore, your mind fogged, and there’s a pressure building low in your stomach that has nothing to do with pleasure and everything to do with the way your heart starts to race. it’s been a long time since you let a guy inside you. since you even wanted to. and even now, it feels foreign. like your body’s remembering something it forgot on purpose.
but you want this. you want him. so you press down slowly, barely taking the tip, and your breath catches in your throat. he doesn’t say anything, just watches. his hands resting on your hips, not moving, not pushing. but he’s tense and alert. like he knows you’re struggling and he’s waiting to see how far you’ll go on your own.
you lower yourself more, inch by inch, and the stretch makes your eyes flutter shut. it burns. not unbearable, but tight, too tight. your thighs start to tremble harder, and your fingers dig into his shoulders for balance. his grip on your hips tightens.
“breathe,” he says, calm. “take your time.”
you nod, shaky, and try to relax. you ease down another inch, and your whole body reacts—hips twitching, core clenching, thighs starting to cramp. it’s too much all at once, and not enough at the same time.
he cuts you off gently, one hand lifting to brush your hair from your face. “don’t stop now. you wanted to ride my cock, right? prove you can take it.”
you whimper, breath catching again, and finally sink lower, slowly taking more of him. your legs feel weak. your cunt clenches tight around him, and the stretch still burns, but underneath it, there’s something else. a pulse. a heat that starts to take over the discomfort.
he groans quietly, his jaw tense. “shit. you’re so tight.” you press your forehead to his collarbone, trying to stay steady. “don’t hide,” he says. “let me see you.” you lift your head, barely, and his eyes lock on yours. “good girl,” he mutters. “you’re almost there. just a little more.”
you shift again, forcing your hips down further, until you’re fully seated in his lap. he groans, deep and low, his fingers pressing harder into your skin. “fuck. there you go.”
you’re breathing hard, thighs trembling, everything inside you stretched to its limit. “hurts?” he asks. you shake your head. he smiles, not sweet. “good.” you glare at him, but there’s no strength behind it. “you’ll get used to it,” he says, voice low. you sink down slow, body trembling, and his grip tightens on your hips. “that’s it,” he mutters. “fuck—look at you.”
you start to move, unsure at first. he lets you find your rhythm, lets you work for it, but his hands don’t leave you. he keeps you steady, fingers digging into your waist. his eyes never leave your face.
“you like being in charge?” he says, breath rougher now. “then don’t fucking slow down.” you moan softly, trying to keep the pace, but your legs are tired, your body already wrecked. your movements falter, and he notices immediately. “what’s wrong?” he says, lips curling. “getting tired already? thought you liked being on top.”
you try to keep going, bouncing slow, your hands braced on his chest.
“keep your eyes on me,” he says. you do, barely, and he grins when he sees the look in your face. “you’re falling apart,” he murmurs. “and you’ve barely done anything.”
he doesn’t slow down. he grabs your chin again, makes you look at him. “ride me like you mean it,” he snaps, thrusting up into you suddenly, making your whole body jolt.
“fuck, soobin—”
“no. don’t whine. you wanted this. show me.” you try. you move your hips, faster this time, trying to match him. he watches you closely, hands on your ass now, guiding your movement, controlling the depth. “that’s better,” he says. “now you’re working for it.”
you gasp, leaning forward, forehead on his shoulder. he grabs your hair and pulls your head back up. “no hiding. i wanna see you struggle.” your thighs are shaking so hard it’s hard to keep the rhythm. your breathing’s uneven, your nails digging into his arms. “you can take it,” he says, voice lower now, almost gentle. “i know you can. you’re my good girl, remember?”
you moan again, louder, and he smiles. “there she is,” he murmurs. “knew you’d come back to me.” your hips stutter again, and he slaps your ass once, not hard, just firm enough to make you move. “don’t stop until i say,” he says. “and if you come first, you’re doing it with my name in your mouth.”
your fingers grip his shoulders harder, your thighs are burning now, trembling with effort, but you force yourself to keep going. up, down, again. you’re trying to stay focused, but the stretch of him inside you, the heat building low in your stomach, the pressure of his hands guiding you—it’s all too much, and not enough at once.
he watches you the whole time, eyes fixed on your face. you can’t hide anything from him like this. not the way your brows pinch together, not the way your mouth keeps falling open with each bounce, not the quiet, broken sounds that slip out no matter how hard you try to hold them in.
“you wanted this,” he reminds you, calm. you nod, desperate, hips moving faster now, sloppy and uneven but still trying. he lets you ride him, lets you feel like you’re in control, just for a second, until he shifts beneath you and fucks up into you hard, once, and your whole body folds forward with a gasp. “thought so,” he mutters.
your forehead falls against his collarbone, and he pulls your hair, tilting your face up again. “no hiding.” his mouth brushes yours, not quite a kiss. “you look like you’re gonna cry.”
“i’m not,” you breathe, though your voice is shaking.
“you will if i tell you not to come yet,” he says, like it’s just a thought. you whimper. his hand moves from your hip to your throat, loose but solid, just enough to hold you still. “you like this?” he asks. “being used like this?” you nod quickly, eyes fluttering shut. “don’t lie.”
“i’m not.”
he leans in, lips by your ear again. “you gonna come for me?”
“yes.”
“say my name.” you pause, too close to think. “say it.”
“soobin…”
he groans, deep and low, and that’s all it takes for his rhythm to break. he grabs your waist hard and starts fucking up into you, fast now, with purpose, like he’s chasing the end and dragging you there with him. “come on,” he mutters. “come for me. make it count.”
you do. your whole body shudders, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a silent moan. everything inside you pulls tight and snaps all at once, and you collapse against him, shaking. he holds you through it, breath heavy against your ear, his arms wrapped tight around your waist like he’s trying to keep you from slipping through his fingers.
then he moves. he lifts you off him slowly, carefully, lays you down on the bed like you weigh nothing. you’re still catching your breath, blinking at the ceiling, when you feel the mattress dip again and his weight settles beside you. his fingers slide down your stomach, soft now, slow. “you like praise,” he says, almost casual. “but i think you like it more when i’m mean.”
you glance at him, lips parted. he leans in close. “so tell me, baby,” he murmurs. “you want me to ruin you with my mouth or just make you cry again first?”
“i can’t,” you breathe, voice shaky. “i can’t take it anymore.”
he tilts his head, like he’s not sure he heard you right. his hands are already back on your thighs, spreading them open again, his body moving lower, slower, like this is nothing for him. like he’s just getting started. “can’t?” he repeats, tone light, mocking. “you sure, baby?”
you swallow hard, legs twitching under his grip. he presses his mouth to your inner thigh, kissing slow, warm, soft, too soft. like he’s pretending to be sweet again. and it only makes the tension worse. “you looked so fucking confident riding my cock,” he murmurs, right against your skin. “and now you’re what? tapped out?” you shake your head weakly, but he keeps going, lips trailing higher, breath hotter. “you want me to stop?” he asks, voice low.
“no.”
“then don’t say can’t,” he says, and bites down on the inside of your thigh, sharp enough to make your hips jerk. “say please.” your breath catches. “say it.”
“please,” you whisper, barely audible.
he smiles against your skin. “thought so.”
he kisses higher, right between your legs now, and you gasp when his mouth finally finds you again, tongue slow, deliberate, dragging over your sensitive skin with zero mercy. you’re already overstimulated, every nerve lit up and shaking, but he doesn’t stop. he knows you’re right there again, and that’s exactly what he wants.
“you’ve teased me for weeks,” he says, voice muffled against you. “walking around in those tiny fucking shorts. sitting on my lap like it’s nothing. saying shit like ‘you’re my favorite boy’ with that little smirk on your face.” you whine, twisting under him, but he holds your hips down with one arm and licks a slow circle around your clit without touching it directly. “you think i didn’t notice? think i didn’t see you bite your lip every time i looked at you too long?”
you’re panting now, legs trembling again. “and now you wanna act all shy?” he scoffs. “now you can’t take it?” his mouth finally closes around your clit, sucking slow and deep, and your hips buck hard, but he doesn’t stop. “you can take more,” he mutters. your fingers find his hair, tugging, trying to anchor yourself to something while your body starts to come undone all over again. “i’ll be gentle,” he says, pulling back just enough to look at you, mouth wet, eyes dark. “but only if you fucking ask.”
you stare down at him, dazed, lips parted. “go on,” he says. “ask for it.”
“please,” you gasp, voice breaking. “please, soobin—be gentle.”
he grins against your skin, slow and cruel. not because he wants to be mean. because he can. because you gave him permission. “that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he murmurs, lips brushing your thigh. “knew you could ask nicely.”
then he moves again, mouth right where you need him, tongue flat and slow against your clit this time, no teasing now. just heat, rhythm, and pressure. your hands grab at his hair, your back arching off the bed, and he doesn’t stop. doesn’t even pause. “fuck, you’re so wet like this,” he says, voice low, fingers gripping your thighs to keep you wide open. you moan, louder now, hips trying to move against his face, chasing the rhythm. “good girl,” he mutters. “you want to come for me like this?”
“yes—yes, please—”
“then keep your legs open.”
you do. you try. your whole body’s tight, burning, desperate. he knows exactly how to keep you right there, his tongue curling just right, lips pressing just enough, his hand slipping lower, fingers teasing your entrance without going in. “you close?” he asks, voice rough and muffed now.
you nod frantically. “so close—please don’t stop—”
he groans into you, and the vibration alone almost pushes you over the edge. his fingers finally slip inside, two of them, smooth and deep, curling just right, and that’s it. you fall apart.
your whole body spasms, legs trembling violently, a loud moan breaking from your throat as you come hard, everything clenching tight around his fingers. your vision goes white for a second, and you barely register the way he keeps going, slow now, helping you ride it out, dragging every last wave out of you until you collapse into the sheets, twitching and breathless.
he finally pulls back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then crawling up over you, eyes dark and satisfied. “you’re so fucking hot like this,” he says, voice low. “all soft. all mine.” you can’t even speak yet. your chest rises and falls, skin flushed, lips parted. he leans down. “now,” he says, tone shifting—less gentle, more commanding again. “turn over.”
you don’t speak. you just move. your body shifts slowly, limbs still weak, and you roll onto your stomach like he asked, like he told you to. your face sinks into the pillow, and you feel his eyes on your back. you know what he sees: the curve of your spine, the way your legs part instinctively, the way you arch your back so he sees your ass available for him to take it. you hear him exhale, sharp through his nose. a pause, then the bed dips as he moves behind you, knees spreading yours a little more, hands running down your back with purpose, not care. he doesn’t soothe. he positions.
soobin stays still at first, taking his time. watching how you lay there for him, waiting. looking how your shoulders tense like you don’t know what’s coming next, but you want to. he likes that. he likes that a lot.
his hands drag down your back, not to comfort, but to arrange. he touches you like he’s correcting something. a tool out of place. a painting hung crooked. “lower,” he says. you sink deeper into the mattress. his palm lands between your shoulder blades, keeping you there. “stay.”
then nothing. just the weight of his hand. the silence. he takes a deep breath. “you have any idea how long i’ve waited for this?”
you don’t answer. he leans down, lips barely brushing your ear. “how many times i pictured you just like this?” his voice is calm, almost bored. “on all fours for me,” he mutters. “but you talk too much. always making jokes. always pretending like you’re not dying for me to shut you up.” his fingers slide down your side, pausing at your hip. “you don’t get to pretend now.” his grip tightens. “so stop fidgeting.” he forces your hips up, adjusts the angle himself like your body’s just another thing to be handled. “just like that,” he says. “good girl.”
he doesn’t rush. doesn’t say more than he needs to. because he knows you’re listening to every breath, every word, every shift in tone. and when his cock teases your cunt and he watches the way your body twitches. the way you don’t stop him. “still so sensitive,” he mutters. “but you’ll take it.” he presses slow, watching you squirm, watching you try to be still. “don’t you dare move.” you breathe out hard. he can hear it. feel it. “that’s what i thought.”
he pushes deeper. drags it out. makes sure you feel every second of it. then he leans back, sitting tall behind you, hands steady on your waist. this isn’t about what you want. not anymore. so he aligns his cock with your drooling entrance again, and smacks his hand in your ass, and you whimper, a whiny whimper. he chuckles, low and provocative. “you’re not gonna come until i say,” he says. “and if you do, i’ll edge you ‘til you cry.”
you whimper into the pillow. “but if you listen?” he continues. “i’ll let you come so hard you forget your own name.” he rolls his hips forward, just once, just enough to make you scream. his cock makes you feel so full already, especially in that position. your legs shake. “choice is yours. not mine,” he adds. “yours.”
he pauses again. then pulls back, only to snap his hips forward harder this time, controlled and deep. again. again. his pace isn’t rushed. it’s mean. efficient. every thrust timed with precision. he watches your hands claw at the sheets. hears the sounds you’re trying to hold back, and it makes him smile. “you were so sure you didn’t like boys,” he mutters. “but look at you now.” another thrust, harder. “fucked out like a bitch.”
his hand slides to your throat from behind again, just resting there. “you’re mine tonight,” he says. “say it.”
“i’m yours,” you whisper.
he grins. “louder.”
“i’m yours, soobin! please!” you choke out.
his grip tightens, choking slightly, just containing you, grounding you to the moment. then he leans in, breath hot against your ear. “yes, yes,” he says. “you are fucking mine.”
if anything, now that you’ve said it—i’m yours—he settles deeper into it, into you. into the full weight of what it means to have you like this: pliant, spread out, quiet except for the sounds you can’t hold back. it’s not just about the physical now. it’s the power. the permission. and he’s going to stretch it as far as it can go.
his hands stay locked on your hips, thumbs pressing into the dip of your waist as he fucks into you slow and heavy, no urgency in his pace, just control. all of it his. he watches your shoulders tighten with each movement, the way your back arches when it’s too much, the way your face twists into the sheets to muffle sounds you don’t want him to hear. he hears them anyway. he loves them.
your hand reaches for the pillow, gripping tight, but you don’t fight him. you don’t even ask him to slow down. he leans over you again, pressing down on your back with one hand to keep you steady, his chest brushing your spine. his breath fans hot against your shoulder as his hips drive into yours again, firmer now, drawing a helpless cry from your throat.
“you gonna keep taking it like this?” he asks, not because he needs permission, but because he wants to hear the sound of you begging again. “or you gonna fall apart like a little brat who talked too much?” your fingers dig into the mattress. “go ahead,” he mutters, almost laughing. “prove me wrong.”
you let out a shaky breath, half a moan, half something broken. he sits back up, dragging you with him by your hips, making you meet each thrust head-on. he doesn’t slow. he doesn’t give. he stays steady and mean, dragging it out just enough to feel cruel. “you wanted to be in charge, right?” he says. “whatever you tell your little girlfriends.”
he leans in again, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head back just slightly. “but you came crawling to me. let me put you on your knees. let me fuck you like this.” he pauses, breath heavy. “so which one is it, baby?” he murmurs. “you like being in charge? or you like being ruined?”
you try to answer, but all that comes out is a moan. his grip in your hair tightens just a little. “nah. use your words.”
you manage to whisper, barely audible: “i like it—like this.”
he smirks. “i know you do.”
he lets go of your hair, both hands dropping back to your waist as his movements grow rougher, rhythm sharper now, like he’s chasing something but refusing to let either of you reach it until he decides. you feel your body tighten again, another orgasm building fast, threatening to take over, but you remember what he said earlier. not until he says.
you try to hold it. try to breathe through it. but your legs are trembling, hands fisted in the sheets, and he’s relentless now. he notices. he always notices. “you close again?” he asks. “tsk tsk… already?”
you nod desperately. he chuckles under his breath, dark and satisfied. “don’t come yet.” you whine, legs shaking harder. “nope. not yet,” he says again, slower this time. “you want it? then beg.”
you gasp. “please, soobin—i—i need it—”
“yeah?” he says, still moving, still holding you right on that edge. “wanna cream my cock again?”
“yes—please—”
“beg harder, angel.”
“please—please, i need it, i need you—”
he groans deep in his throat, and finally, finally, his hands shift, his pace changes, more erratic now, more brutal, like he’s losing his own control right along with you. “come for me,” he growls. “right fucking now.”
and you do, loud and raw and completely undone. your whole body tightens and shakes beneath him, and he doesn’t stop. doesn’t give you time to catch your breath. he fucks you through it, eyes locked on the way you break for him. his name’s the only thing that comes out of your mouth.
he follows seconds later, a sharp curse escaping him as he buries in your cunt deep and stills, hands gripping so tight they’ll leave marks on your hips. he breathes through it, shaky and harsh, chest heaving, body pressed to yours like he needs the contact just as much as he needs the release.
the room is silent for a beat. just the sound of two people wrecked and catching up to themselves. finally, he leans down again, presses a kiss to your shoulder, and murmurs against your skin—
“you really don’t hate boys, do you?”
you let out a laugh, a real one. exhausted and a little horrified. “don’t start.”
“no, i’m serious,” he grins, turning his head toward you, as you switch your body, turning around to face him. “i feel like i just contributed something meaningful to your sexual awakening.”
“that’s… such a weird sentence to say out loud.”
“yeah, well. you’re the one who was like, ‘i’m not into guys’ and then came on my cock like, what? four times or something?”
you groan and cover your face with your hands. “i hate you.”
“you’re literally still shaking.”
“shut up.”
he doesn’t. of course he doesn’t. instead, he sits on the edge of the bed right next to you, and his fingers start tracing light, absent-minded patterns along your spine, featherlight, soothing, almost tender. it’s stupid, really, how soft he is now, after everything. after the way he touched you, took you, like he had no intention of being gentle.
and yet here he is, brushing his fingertips over your back like you might break. and you hate how much you like it. how easily it melts something inside you. because it’s not just the touch — it’s him. the contradiction of him. soobin, with his filthy mouth and his gentle hands.
“listen,” he says, voice dropping into a mock-serious tone, he stretches his arms behind his head, still catching his breath like nothing monumental just happened. and then, in that same too-casual voice, he says, “if you ever feel like exploring your… curiosity more, you know, about your preferences or whatever…” you glance over at him, one eyebrow raised. his expression doesn’t change, except for the little shrug he gives, half amused, half dead serious. “i’m available for educational purposes.”
you exhale, slow and disbelieving. “you’re such an asshole.”
“maybe.” he turns his head toward you, gaze dragging over your bare shoulders, his mouth twitching. “but look where it got me.”
you shake your head, but you don’t move away. you don’t slap his arm or tell him to shut up again. instead, you let your knee knock against his, your breath finally starting to feel like your own again. the air shifts between you, not heavy or awkward like you thought it might be. just… different. charged, maybe. softer around the edges. there’s a quiet comfort in it now that you hadn’t expected.
minutes pass, the movie already ended, the blood-streaked screen frozen in place. then your voice breaks through, low and almost thoughtful. “do you think they survived?”
soobin blinks. “who?”
“the girls,” you say, nodding toward the laptop. slumber party massacre, paused on a cheap shot of cleavage and red corn syrup. “from the movie.”
he tilts his head, gives it a second of actual thought. “nah. they’re all dead. definitely.”
you hum in agreement, a small smile playing at your lips. “yeah. figured.”
there’s another beat of silence, and then he says, “but you would’ve made it.” you look at him, unsure what he means. he keeps going. “you’ve got final girl energy. like… the type who doesn’t run upstairs. the type who waits. watches. stabs the killer with his own weapon.”
you laugh under your breath. “i feel like that’s a lot to project onto me.”
he shrugs. “or maybe you’d flirt with the murderer and confuse the shit out of him until he gave up.”
you grin. “there it is.”
he smirks. “i’d be the dumb hot one who dies first.”
“you are the dumb hot one.”
“thank you for seeing me.”
it shouldn’t feel like relief, this moment. but it does. like something that could’ve broken just… didn’t. like maybe it bent a little, stretched out of shape, but held. and somehow, you’re both still here—naked, slightly dazed, watching a bad slasher movie with blood on the screen and probably some still on your thighs.
you peek at him again. he’s looking at you like he never stopped. “you okay?” he asks, voice quieter now.
you nod. “yeah. i’m good.”
his hand finds your knee again, thumb brushing idly across the bone. it’s casual. but it’s not. you let your head fall onto his shoulder, stare at the screen without really seeing it. plastic knife. overexposed skin. predictable death.
and next to you, soobin. the same soobin who still uses three-in-one shampoo and forgets to charge his phone. the same boy who always lets you pick the movie. who saves you the middle seat on the couch. who carries your bag when you complain and never says anything about it. the same boy you trusted enough to call when your heart was broken. the same one you teased too much and touched too often and didn’t admit you wanted until now.
maybe you were never that into guys. but soobin never felt like just a guy. he felt like a constant, a question mark that stayed open too long. and now, with his hand on your leg and that dumb horror movie frozen in front of you, it finally clicks:
maybe you were never into boys. but you were always, always into him.
author’s note: this might be one of the longest pwp fics i’ve ever written and ngl i was so hesitant to post it. the themes felt a little too specific, a little too personal, and i kept going back and forth like “do i really wanna put this out there??” but then i re-listened to 1980s horror film by wallows and my brain just went: okay but what if this was about beomgyu. or soobin. and suddenly i had 15k words of confused bisexual tension, dry humping, and one very persistent movie night. anyway. if you made it this far, thanks for reading!! and for letting me indulge in a character dynamic that’s messy and horny and kinda tender in all the wrong ways 🖤
oooo i see we’re back, can we possibly get a taehyun audio? 👅
-🍥
HELLO? am i tripping or is this a new anon?! well hi there! and yes ofc i’m always down for a tyun audio … my love for him just has no bounds ><
MDNI // nsfw audio
gosh that little gulp… it had me really going for some reason…
Translation: Baby—...I love you,I love you so much I'm going crazy- ahh— going crazy...feels so good! I'm gonna cum... I can't cum—...no,no I can't— I'm gonna— gonna—!
I hope this email receives you well. It has been brought to my attention that in the fifth floor, the door to the archive closet has begun to malfunction, and has locked employees in on occasion. As maintenance is busy ensuring the remodel to the third floor lobby is finished ASAP, it may take a few days before the door can be fixed; that being said, please do not go to the closet alone, and bring a person to hold the door open for you instead. We thank you for your patience at this time and hope to resolve the issue soon.
Sincerely,
Manager Lee."
beomgyu x fem!reader x taehyun
Genre: office au, work friends(?) to something more, smut smut smut!!!! no plot.
Word Count : 5.8K
warnings: DUBCON/NONCON!! (mc protests, they ignore her, she secretly wants them too) beomgyu is so insane, soft dom! taehyun, hard dom! beomgyu (with thee slightest of hints of sub gyu at the end), sub! mc, dry humping, unprotected sex, creampies, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, threesome, semi-public sex? pet name galore (sweetie, pretty, angel, good girl, etc.), spanking, breast play, begging, sir kink, fingering, choking, masturbating, hand jobs, hair pulling, biting, praise, a little mxm actionnnnn >__<, finger sucking, cum play, lmk if i missed anything!
notes: oh nothing, just thinking about being shoved in an uppuz sandwich.
[While this story isn't necessarily "dark", I ask you read the warnings carefully; I am not responsible for the content you choose to consume.]
It's official— this is the stupidest situation you've ever found yourself in. It beats the time you blasted your text messages shit-talking the office on the television instead of your proposal presentation, or the time you accidentally revealed a marketing strategy to an acquaintance you later found worked at a competing company. Yeah… this might outdo all that.
"Get off!"
"I can't! Something fell behind me!"
Following Taehyun to the storage closet to help him get archives from the past five years of marketing strategies was fine. Easy enough. Beomgyu trailing behind, insisting to help by holding open the door that was known to need fixing due to it's faulty doorknob was also fine. Beomgyu jumping in to stop a box from falling on your head, letting the door shut behind him and cramping all of you in the tiny space, was not.
You're a jumble of tangled limbs in the blink of an eye— you've fallen back against Taehyun, pinning him against the shelf while Beomgyu tries to keep himself from falling on top of you; you hear a thump, and you're all groaning as the space between you three closes.
"Ngh— c'mon, I can't breathe here!" it's a lie, but you try your best to squirm around anyway, pushing Beomgyu's chest and arching back away from him— but right into Taehyun, pressing him against the shelf as he grabs your waist and curses in your ear that you're squishing him. "Beomgyu, stop leaning on me!"
"Stop fucking moving," Taehyun snaps. The two of you instantly quiet down. "You're both crushing me."
"I'm sorry," you whisper out, and the two scoff. Taehyun's head rests on your shoulder, and Beomgyu is still looming over you. The three of you fall silent as you try to think of what to do.
Okay, it could be worse; you start there. Taehyun and Beomgyu aren't terrible people to get stuck in a closet with, you suppose. They're nice enough to work with, polite and fun to talk to— you'd even go as far as saying you're work friends, and if you're going to be stuck here for a while (which is likely, considering the office is empty now), then it won't be terribly awkward. At least, as not-awkward as it can be when you're sandwiched between them.
"Either of you know any tricks to unlock the door?" You try.
"Nope."
"None."
"Okay…" you gulp. Beomgyu's body is smothering your face, and all you can smell is his— perfume? It's floral and clean, suiting for such a beautiful man. "Anyone we can call to get us out?"
"Not that I know of," Taehyun says. Fuck, the smell of his shampoo is invading your senses— you feel like you're going crazy with how good these two men smell. "We were the only ones left in the office. Maintenance doesn't come on Fridays, and the cleaning crew left thirty minutes ago."
"Wow, that's great," you groan, dropping your head back against Taehyun's shoulder, only to straighten after realizing the intimacy of it. "What about people in the department?"
"You really think someone's gonna answer a company call? At 8PM on a Friday?" Beomgyu says.
You scoff. "It wouldn't hurt to try!"
"Okay, then call someone you think would answer."
You shift around to grab your phone, and the two men are complaining that you don't need to wiggle around so much— a minute passes as you scroll through your contacts, debating on who would be most likely to answer. When you finally decide, you let the call ring out on speaker.
It rings.
And rings. And rings.
Then cuts off abruptly.
"What the fuck?" your mouth is wide open as you try again, only for you to be hung up on again. The two looming over you chuckle.
"Guess she's still not over the text messages." Beomgyu teases.
"It wasn't even fucking about her!"
"It was about the guy she was crushing on though." Taehyun chimes in.
"Whatever," you grumble, "it's not my fault she can't handle the fact that her crush is a weirdo."
The two don't bother refuting that— because who the fuck is delivering suggestive anime figures to the office? Accident or not, that figurine made your stomach churn just looking at it.
"Okay then, I'm all out of options," you sigh— because the only other people you're confident would come to your aid are trapped in the closet with you. "What about you two?"
"Nah."
"I don't make friends with my coworkers."
"Ouch," you say, though you know better than to take Taehyun seriously. After all, it couldn't be true with the way he's gotten himself comfortable with you now. Not to mention that him and Beomgyu are inseparable, despite their constant quarrels.
A long silence ensues. You can't hide nerves in your voice as you speak. "Are we seriously stuck in here then?"
"…I doubt it," Taehyun says, "maybe there's still someone hanging around the office."
The silence that follows after is much worse— Taehyun's attempt of reassuring you was appreciated, but it didn't help much, as you feel yourself becoming restless at the thought of being stuck in this closet all night— or weekend. Does the cleaning crew come on weekends? You don't remember. Maybe you'll have to call a non-emergency number; it'd be humiliating to have the office find out about your predicament, but anything beats being stuck in this dusty closet.
You're shifting this way and that, your limbs getting cramped up after trying to remain still to not worsen your position. But your overthinking mind has made you lose rationality, as you're wiggling around to try and get away from the two men to no avail. They scold you to stop, their bodies taut and their commands so firm you can't help but instantly listen. You haven't moved an inch, and all you've done is mess up everyone's balance, your bodies pressed firmly together.
Your foot is angled terribly, and if you remain standing like this, you'll lose balance and make things worse. Once more, you shift, and they both tense. Then you feel it.
Against the swell of your ass. Against your thigh. Hot and thick and throbbing against your bunched up skirt, against your stockings, the deep rise and fall of their chests suddenly making more sense.
"Something wrong?" Taehyun is the first to notice you've gone stiff. "Are you claustrophobic? You're breathing pretty heavily."
"I mean, I'm kinda stuck between you two now, wouldn't it make sense to freak out?" you say. "Not a lot of space here."
"Sorry, are we making you uncomfortable?" Taehyun says, "I can assure you no one wants to be here like this. If I could, I'd step away."
"No, that's not it."
You finally meet Beomgyu's eyes. You don't like how he's looking at you, his face dimly lit by the fluorescent office lights that leak through the cracks of the door. Like he knows better than you.
"You feel it, don't you?" he looks down at where your thigh continues to press against his crotch. He lets out a shaky breath. "Both of us."
"Both—?" Taehyun's head snaps up, glaring at Beomgyu. "The hell are you talking about?"
"Don't play stupid, Taehyunie," Beomgyu coos, "your face gives you away."
He takes a hold of your chin, tilting it up. "Yours too."
You try to glare at him. "I'm not sure I follow."
"God, can we stop playing innocent here?" Beomgyu throws his head back in frustration. "No one's coming to get us anytime soon, and we're all stuck pressed up on each other. You feel what it's doing to us. You like it."
"Choi Beomgyu," you gasp out, "This is highly unprofession— oh,"
He's grinding on your thigh, his eyes never leaving yours. His thick brows furrow, and his mouth parts to let out a soft sigh. He feels so warm against you, shifting slightly so he can grind right against your inner thigh; your cheeks are warming up at the way you whimper softly.
Taehyun hisses. "Shit."
"See?" Beomgyu huffs, punctuating it with a thrust aimed at the apex of your thigh; you gasp, jolting against Taehyun who only holds you tighter. "Told'ya she likes it."
"I— I don't," you whine, hands grabbing onto Beomgyu's button up, scrunching it in your hands. Your eyes fall to where his hips grind, a tight tent against his pants, and you squint your eyes to find a small dark spot building. "This is wrong, we're going to get in trouble."
"Then we need to make sure no one finds out," Beomgyu hunches forward, his breath on your lips as he pants and groans, letting out a soft fuck. Your eyes are fluttering shut, mouth parting as you find yourself leaning in. He looks up at Taehyun just as you do. "Right Taehyunie?"
You can only feel Taehyun getting harder behind you; his fingers are dug so deeply in your skin that all he's doing now is holding you still for Beomgyu, who in turn keeps thrusting you against him. Taehyun's breath against your neck has you shivering, head leaning back against him as you feel your legs shake from the awkward position.
"Hurry up then," Taehyun grits out, "If I end up cumming in my pants, I'll kill you."
"You heard him right sweetie?" Beomgyu laughs, "Spread your legs a little more, yeah?"
"Beomgyu no," you say, "are you crazy? We're working, we're in the office—"
"After hours, with no one around to interrupt us." He's bunching up your skirt even more, giggling at the way you slap his hands, "All I'm hearing is that you're scared we'll get caught. And we won't. So what's the problem here?"
You try to crane your head back, meeting Taehyun's gaze in hopes that he'll be rational and tell Beomgyu to keep it in his pants— he raises his brow at you instead. When you look back at Beomgyu with wide eyes, he grins.
"Yeah, that's what I figured."
His hands rub up your legs, smoothing over your inner thighs appreciatively. His hand cups your cunt, just to feel how hot you are against his palm, and he curses when he feels the dampness seeping through the fabric. Without warning, he rips a hole in your tights, and you jump back against Taehyun.
"Beomgyu!"
"You sound so cute like that," He grins, reaching up to squish your cheeks in his hand; his nails dig in just a little too much, and you wince— he seems to like your reaction. "Makes me wanna be rougher with you."
"Stop talking like that, you're freaking her out," Taehyun rolls his eyes, "You want her to change her mind because you're acting like a weirdo?"
You bristle. "I never made up my mind in the first place—"
When Beomgyu pulls your face to kiss him, you let out a startled yelp. His hand goes from holding your face to the back of your nape, pulling you into his mouth until you feel like you can't possibly get closer. His lips are plump and his kiss is vicious, parting your mouth so he can shove his tongue in and get a proper taste of you. You whine, putting your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, and kiss him back. When he feels you leaning forward in search for more, he bites your lip and pulls away with a laugh.
"You don't need to play hard to get anymore. Y'know that, right?" He smooths out your hair, the gesture unexpectedly gentle. "Though it's hot when you pretend to fight back."
"God, if you don't hurry up then I'll just take my turn first." Taehyun's words have you flushing with heat, the unexpected filth making you buzz with excitement. The two argue about who should have you first, and you're trapped between them while you try to pretend that this isn't just something you've dreamt about and shamed yourself over time and time again.
"Sorry, sorry," Beomgyu shrugs, pushing your panties aside with rough fingers. He swipes his fingers through your folds, whistling when he feels how wet you are. He stares you down while he continues to circle your entrance. "You heard our darling, right? I'll take my time with you next time, I swear."
Next time? You don't get to think too much on what he's implying, because next thing you know, his tip is at your entrance, and he's pushing in.
Oh god.
"Oh god," you struggle to breathe out, nails digging into Beomgyu's shoulders; your other hand flies down to where Taehyun continues to hold your waist, and his fingers part just enough so you can intertwine your hand with his. "Can you— fuck— slow down? Please?"
"Slow down? Seriously?" Beomgyu's brows are scrunched together, his finger circling lightly on your clit— teasing, slow circles that make you clench around him and make his breath stutter. "How am I supposed to slow down when you feel like this?"
Despite his petulance, he proceeds to go a little slower, pushing in until his pelvis is flush against yours, grinding his hips deep inside you as he swoops down to bring you into another kiss. His free hand reaches for your thigh again, hoisting it up on his hip to get better access. He fucks you slow and deep, panting into your mouth when you squeeze him, smiling coyly when you whine against his lips.
"She sounds so nice, doesn't she Taehyunie?"
"Yeah," Taehyun sounds breathless, "even better when you shut the fuck up."
"Don't be mean," Beomgyu pouts, his grip on your thigh tightening as he begins to fuck you harder, bringing out little squeaks from you with every thrust, "she likes it when I talk to her like this. Don't you, baby?"
"No," you say, "it's a—annoying."
"Is it?" His finger on your clit is firmer, matching his thrusts that have become cruel; the small closet is filled with the sounds of him slamming into your cunt and your stifled moans— though you try to pay attention to the way Taehyun occasionally groans and hisses behind you as well. Beomgyu spanks your thigh, and your attention is snapping back to him; he wears a cocky smile that makes you frown, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he rolls his hips to aim for your sweet spot. When he finds it, you let out a long whine, your body slumping back in defeat. "Then how come you were so wet before I even touched you?"
You bite down on your lip, trying to quiet down in spite of him— it doesn't work of course, because he's found just the right spots to get you to jolt with pleasure, your facade falling apart the second Taehyun's hand makes quick work to unbutton your shirt, fingers slipping beneath your bra to tug and twist at your nipples; when you feel his lips trailing kisses down your neck, you let out a weak whimper.
"Don't get quiet on us baby," Taehyun murmurs against your skin, "just ignore him."
"Ignore him?" the stimulation is getting to be too much, and you feel yourself getting wound up in no time. Your brain is a muddled mess of senses, hyper aware of even their breath on your skin. Beomgyu huffs, digging his nails into your thigh. "When I'm the one making you feel this good?"
"Don't you try to ignore me when I'm the one that's gonna make you cum," Beomgyu lets go of your thigh to squish your cheeks and bring your face close to his.
"Look at me," he breathes out, "you gonna cum, sweet thing? I can feel you squeezing me."
He doesn't let go of your face, and you're forced to talk through a pout. "Uh-huh— please, wanna cum— please?"
Beomgyu looks at Taehyun, chuckling smugly before he smiles at you.
"So polite," he coos, "but you think you deserve it? After talking to me like that? Sayin' I'm annoying?"
You try to protest, but you can barely make a sentence through your moans, "Y-you're right— ah, m'sorry— please, please let me cum…"
Beomgyu is soaking this in, you can tell— he doesn't say anything for a moment, observing you carefully instead; the way your eyes plea silently to him, your bitten lips that are left open and panting, and the way his cock disappears inside you— the squelching noise that comes from his sudden thrusts, your warm body that trembles under him— and he lets out a condescending laugh, switching up his pace so he's pulling all the way out, just to bottom out in you as slow as possible.
"That's not enough for me baby," He bites his lip, concentrating on not cumming as well, "you gotta beg for it."
Taehyun chuckles behind you, and you whine. "Please… please don't make me— do that."
Beomgyu merely grins. "Looks like you don't want it enough then."
Taehyun pinches your nipple, and you yelp when it's followed by his teeth sinking into your shoulder— enough to give you a quick sting, but not enough to injure you.
"C'mon pretty, be good and ask him to let you cum, yeah?" His hand slides back down to your hip, just so he can press his hard-on against your ass, "I don't think I can wait any longer for my turn."
"Ah, no…" you can feel your face heat up, meeting Beomgyu's cocky gaze, "it's embarrassing."
"Poor girl," he coos, though it's followed by a condescending laugh, "looks like we'll be here all night then."
"Which, honestly…" he slows down, grinning as he watches your cunt stretch around his cock, a thick white ring forming at the base, "I don't really mind."
Taehyun scoffs— his hand on your breast slides up to grab your throat, his fingers wrapping around you effortlessly. He's tilting your head back toward him, bringing his lips close to your ear as he tightens his hold on you.
"C'mon baby, need you to stop being difficult," he murmurs, his voice tense from waiting, "You gonna be good and listen to me?"
"Uh-huh."
"Good," he places a soft kiss to your temple. "Repeat after me, okay?"
Beomgyu is entertained by the spectacle in front of him, it shows all over his face; his eyes are dark as he watches Taehyun whisper in your ear, your glistening eyes fluttering open to meet his— you're dazed with pleasure, barely holding off from cumming as you whine out to him, not thinking much of what you're saying.
"Beomgyu— 'm sorry for being mean," you're trying your best to keep your eyes on him— it's cute how embarrassed you are, and Beomgyu grins as you hesitate to continue.
"I'll be a good girl now," His smile tenses at that— he's picking up the pace now, tears welling up in your eyes from the pleasure, "Please, can— can I cum, sir?"
"Oh, fuck," Beomgyu shivers at your weak plea— he leans back down to crash his lips against yours, his pace brutal as he begins to slam into you carelessly. It's hard to keep up with his hungry kiss, becoming a mess of spit and teeth as he moans shamelessly against your lips; he pulls back just enough to pant and whine, "yes, of course you can, sweet angel— c'mon, let me feel it."
Your whole body tenses when you finally let go, a long whine of Beomgyu's name leaving you as your high crashes, waves of pleasure overtaking you as you clench around Beomgyu's cock, listening to him moan and praise you breathlessly. The two don't take their eyes off you for a second, watching your body shake and your eyes squeeze shut. Beomgyu slows to a stop after your body slumps against Taehyun's, rely on the two men to hold you up.
"So perfect," Beomgyu gives you a soft kiss, "God, you put on quite a show."
"Shut up," you say, though it's only met with a soft spank to your thigh— you yelp at the sensation, and Beomgyu smooths his palm against the spot.
Beomgyu has yet to pull out yet— just when you're about to tease him about it, you realize why that is as you feel him throb inside you.
"Beomgyu," you breathe out, "you haven't cum yet."
He looks more than ready to shrug off your comment and give you some lame excuse that it's fine— before he can open his mouth, you're wrapping your leg around his hip and pressing him in; a choked moan leaves him at the sensation of you clenching around him.
"Can…" you hesitate, but push through regardless. "Can you cum inside?"
It's silent. You wonder if you've gone too far, ready to take it back when the two men make eye contact and begin to laugh in disbelief.
"Jesus, baby. You really know how to kill a man," Beomgyu's voice is strained, his hips beginning to move again— but his rhythm is sloppy, and he can barely hold back his moans as he fucks you, "You sure about this?"
"Yes," you whine, shivering at the overstimulation, "Please, I want you to fill me up, sir."
You're too smart for your own good— as soon as the title leaves your lips, Beomgyu's head is falling back and his hips are pressing impossibly deep inside you, pulling your hips against his as he grinds into you and cums. He continues to fuck you through his orgasm, hissing out curses and whining your name like it's the sweetest thing on his tongue— when his high has washed away, he leans back into you to catch your lips in a last, chaste kiss.
"Fuck, you're dangerous," he murmurs, "why haven't we done this sooner?"
"Well, I don't think we've gotten locked in the archive closet before."
You're pulling away from Beomgyu's lips to laugh at Taehyun's comment, the former rolling his eyes and calling Taehyun a smart-ass. You're barely given a moment before Beomgyu is pulling out, grinning at the way you whimper at the loss of him inside you.
"Here," he says, bringing his fingers to your cunt to catch his dripping cum, only to stuff his digits inside you, "don't want this going to waste, right?"
"Beomgyu, fuck—" you twitch as his fingers curl inside, massaging your sweet spot, "too much— 'm sensitive."
"Do you need a break?" Taehyun chimes in, "We can stop here if you want."
"No," you're quick to say, and the two men laugh at your eagerness— you try to ignore the way your face is heating up as you reach up for Taehyun's hand on your throat, lacing your fingers with his as you look over your shoulder at him. "I wanna feel you too."
"Is that right?" he says, breathless at the way you flutter your eyes at him and nod; his free hand snakes around your waist to push you back against him, caressing your skin idly, "well, how could I say no to such a pretty thing?"
Taehyun is adjusting your position so he can get better access to you— you end up leaning forward against Beomgyu, pinning him against the shelf behind him as Taehyun bunches your skirt up your hips a little more; his hand caress from your thighs to your ass, and you feel his gaze sweeping over your arched figure appreciatively. His hands land on your hips, moving your panties to the side again and circling his fingers around your entrance; you squirm in anticipation, and he chuckles.
"Don't tell me you're getting impatient?" he coos, his fingers dipping in teasingly before going up to circle your clit, "such a greedy girl."
He's only gliding his tip across your slit now, slapping the head of his cock against your clit to watch your squirm— but even so, you can feel how big he is, can feel the thickness of his length as he thrusts between your thighs, continuing to hiss quietly in your ear each time his tip catches against his entrance.
"Taehyun, stop teasing…" you whimper, leaning your head against Beomgyu's chest; his hand comes up to caress your head affectionately.
"M'kay baby, I'm sorry," Taehyun is surprisingly quick to give in to your commands, lining himself up before beginning to push into your cunt— though he's not as long as Beomgyu, he's definitely thicker, with a curve that aims straight for your sweet spot; your body tenses instant, mewling pathetically the moment Taehyun nestles perfectly into your cunt, drawing out a curse from him as you flutter around his length.
"Feels good?" he asks, running a hand down your spine, pushing against the small of your back to make you arch for him a little more, "You feel so perfect baby."
Slowly, he begins to move, listening for the way your breath hitches and your moans break when he slams back in and grinds against you. He lets you savor the stretch, rolling his hips into you and hitting spots that make you see stars. Slowly, he begins to speed up, until his hips are smacking against your ass and you're getting jolted against Beomgyu. It feels amazing— though as you peek over your shoulder, you find Taehyun focusing on the way your cunt takes his cock, his brows furrowed in frustration and his body tense.
"M…more…" you can't help but murmur, the pace he set too safe for your liking— the moment the request registers in his brain, Taehyun is reaching out for your hair, using it as leverage to pull you back against him, your back arching as he continues to fuck you.
"More?" he asks, his thrusts becoming rougher, "how do you want it, baby?"
"I—" the words die on your tongue the second his hand falls to your throat again, squeezing just enough to have your brain cloud up, "I don't want you to hold back."
"Are you sure?" his voice is strained, and you feel the tension melt away from him the moment you nod, "god, you're such a perfect little angel."
You feel the shift instantly; his hands are greedy as his fingertips sink into your skin, restricting your oxygen and grabbing your hips to fuck back against him. He shifts into something more possessive, eager to claim you as he fucks you rough and deep— his mouth doesn't leave your neck once, sucking and sinking his teeth into your skin, murmuring praises all the while. Your eyes are hazy as they flutter open, widening at the sight that you're met with.
"God, you two look so— so good," Beomgyu moves like a man possessed, his hand wrapped tightly around his cock that's gotten hard again. His eyes are cloudy as they run a path through your face, to where Taehyun hides in the crook of your neck, down your body and to where the two of you connect; when he catches the way his cum is getting fucked out of your cunt and mixing in with both your arousal, his cock twitches in his hand and he groans. "So pretty…"
"Fuck, you're hard again?" Taehyun rests his chin on your shoulder, breathing out a laugh before squeezing your throat, "baby, wanna help him out?"
It feels like your body is moving on its own accord; your hand is wrapping around Beomgyu's cock, your thumb swiping over his tip to collect the pre-cum that leaks out and using it to make the glide along his length smoother— his breath hitches, dizzy at the sight of your hand wrapped around his cock, the size difference enough to get him close.
"Oh, you're so good— just like that, fuck, baby," he whimpers, watching your face closely, "you're so pretty, look so good taking his cock— are you gonna cum?"
You're surprised he was able to pick up on it just from watching you— he's moaning as soon as you nod, as though recalling the feeling of your cunt gushing around him. His voice is rough as he purrs out praise to you, telling you how beautiful you look and urging you to cum with him— when you squeeze him particularly hard and swipe your palm over his tip, he lets out a broken whine of your name; Taehyun's hands tighten on you, pulling you back with a low growl.
"So fucking noisy," He snarls, glaring at Beomgyu, "moaning like a whore."
"Can't help it," Beomgyu isn't the least bit apologetic, a coy smile tugging at his lips, "you'd get it if you saw what I see."
You feel your peak building up suddenly, your moans picking up and alerting the two— while Taehyun seeks out your broken pleas for him to fuck you harder, Beomgyu continues to ramble on, though it becomes nonsensical as his own climax approaches. Behind you, Taehyun huffs, his hand leaving your throat and shooting out in front of you.
"Shut the fuck up," his voice is stern, and you're both leaning forward so Taehyun can shove his middle and ring finger into Beomgyu's mouth— to your surprise, Beomgyu moans. "I don't wanna hear another word from you."
Drool begins to pool at the corners of Beomgyu's mouth, and he stares down at where you're sandwiched between them with low-lidded, foggy eyes— Taehyun's fingers push down against Beomgyu's tongue, and before he can so much as moan, he's cumming in your hand.
It's warm and sticky as it falls against your hand, arm, and shirt— you gasp, continuing to pump his cock as your own climax hits, squeezing down on Taehyun so tightly you're triggering his own orgasm shortly after, his teeth sinking into your shoulder once more to muffle the loud moan that escapes him, thick cum flooding into your cunt as his hips rut into you, riding out your orgasm and ensuring that none of his cum goes to waste. When he finally comes up from your neck, it's to whisper praises in your ear, his free hand coming up to tilt your head back to him so he can kiss you.
It's gentler than you anticipated, but he's just as needy to taste you— he pants against your mouth and bites your lips teasingly, snaking his tongue inside and devouring your whole. You don't know how long you spend like this, with his cock bottomed out inside you and his lips glued to yours; you're only able to snap out of your daze when you hear Beomgyu let out a shaky sigh.
The two of you snap your heads back to Beomgyu, who you realize with a giggle still has Taehyun's fingers in his mouth.
"You didn't need to do that y'know," Beomgyu mutters after Taehyun has pulled his hand away, but there's no heat behind his words. Considering the clear affect it had on him, you'd call Beomgyu a hypocrite— but you'll keep it to yourself for the sake of keeping peace.
"Whatever," Taehyun says. He presses a kiss on your neck, pulling out slowly, the two of you hissing when you feel his cum begin to leak out, "you okay?"
"Yeah," your voice unexpectedly hoarse, "just… sticky."
Beomgyu smiles sheepishly. "Sorry 'bout that."
"We need to get out of here," Taehyun adjusts your clothes, moving onto his with a sigh, "but who the hell could we call? Not even maintenance is here right now."
You and Taehyun fall silent, lost in thought and weighing your options— you think of the coworkers you're closer to, but you either don't have their number or know they wouldn't answer, either because they're mad at you or don't want to ruin their Friday night. It seems Taehyun is coming to the same conclusion as you, because he lets out a long, frustrated sigh. Maybe you'll have to call a non-emergency line… though you really don't know what they'd think if they found you in your current state…
Beomgyu, who had been scrolling on his phone casually, brings it up to his ear. You and Taehyun watch in anticipation.
"Hey Yena, you busy?" you can faintly hear the sweet voice of Yena, the secretary that always strays from the front desk to personally deliver Beomgyu's lunch orders and lingers around to make meaningless conversation with him. "That's great— listen, me and two others got stuck in the archives closet."
"…I did, but then this shelf got tipped over and a box almost fell on— anyway. I know it's a huge favor to ask, but would you be able to come in and let us out of here?"
There's a pause. Beomgyu sees the way you tense, and he places his hand on your waist reassuringly.
"I'll buy you dinner."
Another pause ensues. Then, a coy smile is spreading on Beomgyu's face, and he's cooing a soft thank you into the phone.
"She'll be here in fifteen."
You and Taehyun sigh dramatically, and you're leaning back against him as you finally relax. But Beomgyu's conversation lingers in your mind, and you can't stop yourself from frowning.
"You're going to dinner? After all this?"
Beomgyu perks up, radiating with a smug joy. "Awe, you jealous?" You scoff, crossing your arms and looking away. "c'mon, don't be like that sweetheart."
He cups your face, urging you to look at him. When your eyes meet his, he gives you a proud smile.
"I never said I was going with her."
Taehyun scoffs.
"Besides," Beomgyu's eyes run down your figure, darkening when they stop at your soiled shirt, "I think it's better we finish where we left off, don't you think?"
Taehyun's hands snake around your waist, hugging you close as he nestles his head on your chin. You can already picture the coy smile he must have on his face.
"That I can agree with."
"As nice as that sounds," you reach forward to grab a fistful of Beomgyu's hair, yanking it just to see Beomgyu's face twist with pain. "You've had Yena's number this whole time? And you knew she'd answer?"
"Well— I mean— I didn't think she'd actually—"
"Liar," you scowl, pulling a little more at Beomgyu's hair— he yelps, though you know it's all a facade. "You're such a perv."
Taehyun tuts, disappointed. "What d'you say we leave without him instead?"
"Sounds good to me."
Beomgyu pouts, looking like a kicked puppy. "Guys, no, don't do this to me."
"You really think you deserve to come with us after you had us stuck here for no reason?" Taehyun asks. Beomgyu can only give him a pathetic, pleading look.
"You want us that bad?" you ask, and he eagerly nods. A small smile tugs at your lips. "Then show us."
"Go on," Taehyun coos, "beg."
Despite the limited light that leaks through the cracks of the door, Beomgyu's eyes shine with need. His hands inch toward you, landing on top of Taehyun's as he closes the space between you three.
Yeah, you couldn't have asked for anyone better to get stuck in this dingy closet with.
puppy!gyu who is always licking and biting you, chewing on your fingers, and gnawing at his toys. it gets a little embarrassing when you explain to your coworkers that your puppy keeps biting and that’s why you’re hands are covered in teeth marks. but, his silly mouth habits are good for something else too!!
💌: this fic is just pure self indulgence bc i am deeply in love with puppy!gyu. sorry not sorry. i have 2 other puppygyu ideas in my drafts so lmk if you guys want them!!
genre: puppy hybrid!beomgyu x fem!reader smut
wc: 3.6k
warnings: sub!beomgyu, puppy!beomgyu, use of names puppy/baby/good boy, begging, gyu cries cuz he’s so needy, oral (f!receiving), mentions of masturbation (m!receiving), fingering, gyu gets praised a decent bit, reader is lowkey sort of taking advantage of gyu, gyu is super inexperienced and doesn’t really understand what he’s doing
part 2
Beomgyu is a good, sweet puppy.
Most of the time, at least.
Ever since the day you brought him home from the shelter he’s been completely glued to you.
Always curled into your side, draped across you somehow, finding his way into your space like he belongs there.
You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve come home from work only to find him already asleep in your bed, tangled in your blankets and drooling onto your pillow as if it were his own.
Waking him up is always the same.
A sleepy blink, a soft whine, and then suddenly he’s clinging to you, arms wrapped tight as he buries his face into your shoulder, mumbling about how much he missed you soooo much.
You’d think you’d been gone for weeks with how he acts when you come home. And without fail, it never takes long before he starts pressing little, careless licks along your neck.
When you lightly tug at his hair to pull him away, he resorts to your cheek instead. Completely ignoring your words.
“Gyu, no licking.”
You say it every time. You mean it every time.
But he just can’t help it! It’s just how he shows affection, any other puppy hybrid would do it.
Still, there are moments where his tongue lingers a second too long in the wrong place, and you feel your face warm before you can stop it.
A reaction you’re quick to shut down, brushing him off before he can notice and ask questions he wouldn’t even understand.
You know it’s probably wrong for your body to react this way, but every time you simply tell yourself, “It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose.” and you leave it at that.
Never bothering to read further into it.
Of course, Beomgyu doesn’t know why you pull away.
To him, it’s simple. He loves you, and this is just how he shows it.
The licking isn’t even the worst of it.
He bites too.
Not enough to hurt or break skin, just enough to get your attention.
Teeth pressing into your arm or leg when you’re not giving him the attention he so desperately wants.
He just wants you to look at him, to touch him, to focus on him, anything at all as long as he gets your attention.
Even when he’s just bored, your hands are usually the first thing he reaches for. Absentmindedly chewing on your fingers like they’re just another one of his toys.
Which, to be fair, he goes through quickly.
You’re pretty sure you’ve replaced at least three this month alone.
It’s cute, sure.
Endearing, even.
But that doesn’t stop it from being a little embarrassing when your coworkers catch sight of the faint teeth marks scattered across your hands, raising their brows and asking if you got attacked by something.
You always laugh it off. Awkwardly smiling while trying your best to explain that your puppy just has a bit of a biting problem.
—
By the time evening settles in, everything is quiet.
You’ve been home for a few hours now, the weight of the day finally starting to melt off your shoulders. Your apartment is warm and dimly lit as the TV hums softly. The first thing you deemed interesting enough to watch playing in the background.
Beomgyu is curled up beside you. Head in your lap, body angled toward you, as close as he can get without sitting on top of you.
The same as almost all your evenings go.
You’ve been running your fingers through his hair for a while now. slow, absent strokes that match the rhythm of the quiet room. His eyes are half-lidded and relaxed, completely content like this is all he needs.
After a while your hand slowly comes to a still, resting on Beomgyu’s cheek as you brush your thumb up and down a few times before completely stopping.
You had only stopped for a moment, but that’s all it takes.
It’s subtle at first. The faint shift against your palm, the light pressure of his teeth as he starts to chew, slow and absentminded, like he barely even realizes he’s doing it.
You don’t even bother looking away from the TV.
“Gyu,” you murmur, voice soft. “Stop biting.”
“Not biting.” he mumbles back, muffled against your hand.
You glance down at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth despite yourself.
He’s not even pretending to watch the show anymore. His entire focus is on your hand, brows slightly furrowed in quiet concentration like this is the most important thing he could be doing right now.
You shift your hand just enough to run your finger lightly over his teeth.
“Are you teething or something?” you tease.
“I’m not a baby.” he mumbles, a small pout pulling at his lips.
You let out a quiet laugh, scratching lightly behind his ear in apology. He leans into it without hesitation, eyes fluttering shut for a second before you move again, sitting up just slightly.
He follows your movement immediately, sitting up as well as he watches you.
You lean forward, reaching for your drink on the coffee table, twisting the cap open as your attention drifts further away from the show playing on.
Just before you could bring the bottle to your lips, a sudden, sharp scream cuts through the room from the TV.
It startles you enough that your hand jerks, the bottle tipping just slightly. Before you can even register what happened, you can feel cold liquid all over your lap.
“Shit-”
You barely have time to react before Beomgyu already has.
By the time you even look down, he’s already leaning in, tongue brushing over your skin as he starts cleaning up the mess like it’s the most obvious solution to this problem.
And to him, it is.
He does this all the time.
Any spill or drop of anything, no matter how big or small, he’s always quick to take care of it before you even think to grab a towel.
So at first, you don’t think anything of it.
You just let him.
But he doesn’t stop at just the tops of your thighs, his tongue trailing up dangerously close to the place where you can feel a faint familiar heat start to make itself known.
And suddenly, you’re very aware of where he is.
Your breath catches, heat creeping up your neck before you can stop it, and this time you react quickly. Your hand coming down against his head to gently but firmly push him back.
“Gyu-”
He stops immediately.
Not because he understands, nor does he want to stop.
Just because you told him to.
He looks up at you, eyes wide and soft, head tilting slightly to the side in quiet confusion.
You avoid his gaze almost instantly, your voice coming out softer than you meant it to.
“I can clean it,” you murmur. “It’s fine.”
You hear a small, almost pitiful whine leave him.
His brows pull together slightly, lips pressing into a faint pout as he looks back down at your lap, then up at you again, confused.
Because this doesn’t make sense.
You always let him do this.
So why not now?
Before you can even get up to get a towel or a change of clothes, Beomgyu’s tongue is right back on your thighs.
Like I said, he’s a good puppy most the time.
You gasp softly at the feeling of his warm, wet tongue against you again. His hand landing on your knee to pry your legs open, determined to clean you up.
He really was just trying to help you clean your mess!
Sure, he was being a bit of a brat about it, but he’s a brat about lots of things when he doesn’t get his way.
But the second he got your legs open enough for him to lick up the liquid that had fallen to the insides of your thighs, his breath hitched.
Beomgyu isn’t a complete stranger to pheromones. He remembers smelling them from a female hybrid whose crate was next to his for a few days back when he was in the shelter. But what he could smell coming from you completely flipped a switch in his brain.
Without even thinking, his face was suddenly pressed against your core, desperately sniffing trying to figure out why your scent is making him feel so, so dizzy. Intoxicated, even.
Your eyes went wide at his new found interest, hands flying to his head to try to push him away once again.
It takes a few tries, especially as he digs his hands into your legs to keep himself anchored in place. But eventually you manage the strength to move him away.
The words “bad puppy” leaving your mouth as you try your best to sound composed, earning you the most pathetic whine you’ve ever heard leave Beomgyu’s mouth.
You’ve never seen him this way before, his eyes completely blown out and full of need, his tongue darting to keep in the drool that threatens to spill from his mouth, his hands squeezing into you as if you might disappear if he lets go.
You would almost feel bad for him if you weren’t so focused on keeping down the filthier-than-you’d-like-to-admit thoughts that were flooding your brain.
And maybe if it weren’t for said thoughts, you’d have noticed the way he was gently thrusting into nothing against his pants sooner.
The moment you did however, the prettiest little “please…” fell onto your ears. Full of nothing but need and desperation.
Your eyes move back up to Beomgyu’s face upon hearing his voice, his eyes all teary now and eyebrows furrowed.
His eyes move back and forth between your own as he doubles down.
“Please… ‘m sorry, I don’t wanna be bad… but it hurts so much…” he manages to get out between sniffles.
Small tears are slipping down his flushed cheeks now as you bring your thumb up to wipe them.
Your gaze softens as he leans into your hand, hiccuping small mumbles of apologies, ears low against his head.
“Shh, it’s okay baby. What’s hurting?” you coo at him, no longer putting in much effort to push away the lewd thoughts corrupting your mind.
“Hurts… down there…” he whines, squeezing his eyes shut as his hips continue their sloppy uneven movements.
You hum in response, not exactly sure what to do next.
Before you can begin figuring that out, Beomgyu softly pleads “Help please…” in the most pitiful voice.
He doesn’t seem to even fully understand what he’s asking for.
All he knows is that his head is spinning.
And that the ache in his boxers is so painful.
And that he wants you to fix it, whatever that may mean.
You pause for a moment, considering your options.
You could help him, or maybe you could try to teach him how to take care of it himself.
Either way, playing dumb or backing out was no longer in the equation for you. Especially not while your sweet puppy is begging for your help.
Your gaze drops down again as you think.
You watch as his body continues to react, hips rutting up at nothing even when he’s trying so hard to stay still for you.
Help
The word rings in your head once again.
That’s all this is.
And that’s what you continue to tell yourself as you slowly move your hands away from Beomgyu.
Legs spreading just slightly as he looks up at you with big, eager eyes.
His crying slows as he looks at you patiently, waiting for any kind of approval. You’d be proud of him for waiting if this were a normal night.
You’re not really sure what exactly he wants, but you’re also not stupid.
He’s obviously turned on and hard to the point where it’s hurting him.
You could pull his pants and boxers down and touch him.
Or you could just fuck him until he can’t think straight like your brain has been yelling at you to do since the moment he started licking at your thighs.
No, stop it. He’s crying and you’re thinking about fucking him, you perv.
So instead, you decide the best thing to do is to just stop stopping him.
Your thoughts are abruptly halted as you feel Beomgyu’s hand sliding up your legs, fingers stopping right at the edge of your shorts and tugging ever so slightly.
A soft whine slipping past his lips as he stares at your clothed core.
“Do you want me to take these off?” you ask softly, hooking your thumb into your waistband and watching for his reaction.
Beomgyu’s cheeks flush an even darker shade now. He nods quickly. Looking back up at you, ears perking up and tail slowly starting to wag.
You smile at him sweetly, still unsure of what exactly he’s gonna do to you.
Nonetheless, you find yourself sliding your shorts off and tossing them aside before you can think too much about what you’re doing.
Beomgyu wastes no time eagerly shifting closer to you. Hands resting on your thighs and squeezing lightly as if he’s trying to ground himself.
He still needs to be taught patience though, so you put a finger up and sternly tell him “wait.”
He pouts, but listens. Waiting patiently as his eyes flicker back and forth from your face to your panties.
The soft thud of his tail hitting the ground over and over slows a bit as you watch him.
You make him wait an agonizing 20 seconds before lowering your hand.
“Okay, good boy.”
He swears it felt more like 20 minutes, but he’ll do whatever you want right now. No matter how hard it is to sit still.
Beomgyu presses his nose up against your core again, a little more shy and hesitant at first.
That doesn’t last very long before he’s whining against you and pushing his face as close as he can get. The thin layer of fabric separating you making your scent so much stronger than it was earlier.
His head is spinning now. He has no clue what he’s doing or feeling, his body only moving on pure instinct.
You’re trying your best to not let small moans fall from your lips when Beomgyu begins licking right at your clit through your panties.
He’s a little rough and clumsy, not having the slightest clue what he’s doing.
But then again, he isn’t trying to give you head.
You almost feel slightly ashamed at how easily you’re reacting to his inexperienced tongue. But it’s been so long and he’s just so cute.
Beomgyu’s not picking up on your small noises at all.
How could he?
Poor baby is tunnel visioned onto your cunt.
Although, he does notice the way your scent increases the more he licks.
The thin veil of your panties separating him from you is driving him insane. He has half a mind to just pull them off, but he knows he’d probably get in trouble for that.
So instead, he uses all his strength to pull his face away from you. Leaning his head against your thigh and bringing his pretty fingers up to tug at the hem of your underwear.
He doesn’t need to say anything, the pleading look on his face accompanied by the small whimpers leaving his throat tell you everything you need to know.
For a second, you wonder if maybe this is going too far.
But the way he’s looking at you right now only solidifies that you already have gone too far.
You try your best to ignore your thoughts as you give him a nod of approval.
Beomgyu quickly pulls your panties down, only bothering to completely discard them from one leg. Leaving them to hang around your ankle before you kick them away.
His tail shoot’s up at the sight of your exposed cunt in front of him. His eyes might as well have giant cartoon hearts shooting out.
He hurriedly resumes his earlier position, tongue flat as it swipes across your entire core.
You let out a gasp, not able to contain yourself anymore. Feeling a little embarrassed when you notice Beomgyu’s ear perk up a bit at the noise.
The taste and smell of your slick against his tongue is unreal.
He thinks this must be what heaven is like.
He laps at the liquid slowly oozing out of you, not wanting to waste a single drop.
As cute as it is watching him be so entranced, your clit is feeling a bit neglected now. You know you’ll probably scold yourself for this later, but your hands are already tangling in his hair and pulling him up just enough for his tongue to land right back where you’re needing it.
Your head falls back as a moan leaves your lips.
Beomgyu looks up at you with sweet, curious eyes.
“Does it feel good?” he mumbles against your cunt.
You’ve been asked this exact question by various different men. But this is so much different. Those men knew what they were doing, and Beomgyu doesn’t have a clue.
It’s almost endearing, the way his tail starts to wag rapidly as you moan out “Mhmm, good boy. Keep- fuck- keep going”.
The moment he realizes this feels good for you too, you’re screwed.
He’s so very eager to please you.
He doesn’t understand what he’s doing, but he knows it’s making you happy and that he’s a good boy for doing it.
That’s all he needs to understand.
He’s a quick learner too. Mentally noting every little reaction or tug of his hair.
Soon enough, his clumsy and messy mouth is doing a lot more than just licking.
He’s sucking at your clit, pushing his tongue flat against it and shaking his head, lapping up the juices gushing from your hole.
When the tip of his tongue slides just barely inside of you, you let out a weak “Ah- Gyu-“.
He’s a bit confused, he thought you liked it better on your clit.
But he’s too far gone to think anything more of it before he’s shoving his entire tongue inside of you.
He stills for a moment, tongue prodding around inside of you.
He’s getting pretty good at this, but he’s still fairly clueless. So you take it upon yourself to start pushing and pulling his head back and forth until he quickly learns what to do.
His chin is wet and dripping as he fucks in and out of you with his tongue, tail thudding so loudly against the floor you’re a little worried he might hurt himself.
The slew of curses and moans leaving your mouth only spur him on.
All he wants is to be good for you, and for this to never end.
He pulls his tongue out of you and begins working on your clit once more.
You’re so dazed out you’re no longer even capable of worrying about what you’re doing. Instead, you’re worrying about how empty your hole feels.
You grab one of his hands that are still anchored onto your thighs, bringing his middle and ring finger into your mouth for a moment before pushing them inside of yourself.
Your eyes roll back as you hold onto his wrist and push his fingers in and out.
Poor puppy is so confused :(
His jaw is getting sore and he doesn’t understand why you’re fucking yourself with his fingers when he thought you liked his tongue.
But he won’t complain. Not when you’re mindlessly babbling on about how good he’s doing and how he’s such a good boy.
Your hand starts to slow and loosen its grip on his wrist now, getting a little tired. He’s quick to pick up on it and begin moving his fingers on his own.
He notices the way your breath catches when his fingers hit a spongy spot inside you, fastening his pace and curling his fingers to hit it over and over.
It’s almost scary how quickly he’s getting the hang of this. You’re so close to finishing all you can do is throw your head back and weakly moan out “Gyuuu”
Within seconds you’re coming undone all over his fingers.
And yeah, he could feel the way you tightened around him and how your legs begin to shake a little, but that doesn’t stop him. He doesn’t ever want to stop.
If you let him do this until his jaw and fingers physically couldn’t move anymore, he would do it in a heartbeat.
The overstimulation is beginning to be too much as his pace never falters.
You try to push his head away and gather the strength to mumble out “Gyu wait- ah- slow down-“.
But your words fall on deaf ears.
You all but shove him away as he finally lets go.
He looks up at you with a pout on his swollen and wet lips.
You smile softly at him.
“I’m sorry baby, it’s sensitive.” you say, ruffling his hair a bit as you catch your breath.
He continues his pout, but nods and stays put.
You take a moment and allow your eyes to run over his appearance.
His hair is a mess and his chin and cheeks are completely soaked.
Your eyes run down his body and land on his lap, where a large dark spot sits.
He must’ve came while he was eating you out.
He shyly looks away from you, noticing your gaze and moving his hand to cover his crotch.
You were so dazed out you didn’t even pick up on the way one of his hands left your thigh and began rubbing himself through his pants.
Or the way he whined and moaned against your cunt.
“Does it feel better puppy?” you say using your foot to move away his hand.
Beomgyu’s eyes sheepishly meet yours again as he nods.
“Yeah but," he frowns, "it’s all sticky now.”
You can’t help but smile a little at his words.
Maybe your sweet puppy’s silly licking habits have some good uses.
