#txt x reader

[ochacoca]

never seen a more accurate thing on tiktok

[dearjiwon]

EXTRA CREDIT ──── choi soobin.

── .✦ (🥥) who would've thought that a late night tutoring sesson with the schools biggest nerd, soobin, turned into a night even more exciting. turns out, he has an even bigger surprise than his brain.

pairing: big dick virgin!soobin x fem!reader

word count: 4.8k

"content warning 18+ [ MDNI! ], switch!soobin, fem reader, big dick virgin!soobin, nerdy dirty talk, he researched ab sex, nerd!soobin, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, riding, creampie, aftercare”

you invited him over because you were failing math.

there wasn’t anything romantic or flirtatious about it at first — just a silent cry for help written in red marker across your test papers, the kind of desperate slope only someone like choi soobin could pull you from.

he was quiet in class, but always had the right answers. you’d never seen him speak above a whisper, never seen him look anyone in the eye for more than a second, and yet he always left the lecture room with perfectly annotated notes and the air of someone who carried his self-worth in decimal points and weighted averages.

so you messaged him one night — a simple, “can u tutor me?” — and he agreed with alarming speed.

showed up three days later at your apartment like a boy heading into battle, papers in one hand and a mechanical pencil tucked behind his ear, even though you weren’t going to a classroom.

he barely spoke as he stepped inside, his oversized hoodie swallowing his frame and his backpack clutched so tightly in his hand you worried the strap might snap.

“hi,” he said, voice soft, and then added, “i brought… some topic breakdowns. just what i thought would be most helpful.”

you took the stack of papers from him, letting your fingers brush his as you did — just enough to make him freeze.

“thanks, soobin. you’re a lifesaver.”

“it’s no problem,” he replied, though his voice cracked a little halfway through, and he cleared his throat like it embarrassed him.

he stood awkwardly in the middle of your room until you gestured toward the bed. “we can work there. my desk’s a mess right now.”

he nodded too quickly, walking over with that stiff, careful posture that always made him look like he didn’t know what to do with his limbs.

he perched on the very edge of the mattress, knees pressed together, bag in his lap like a shield.

you were already sprawled out beside him, legs crossed, chin in your hand, flipping lazily through the printouts he brought. he’d highlighted things in different colors — pink for formulas, green for common mistakes, blue for examples — and even used sticky tabs to mark each section.

you smiled a little. “damn. you really prepped for this, huh?”

“i didn’t want to waste your time,” he said, not meeting your eyes. “i mean, you’re busy. i figured i should… y’know. make it count.”

your gaze lingered on his profile for a second — the soft curve of his cheek, the glasses sliding slightly down his nose, the way his lashes caught the light like they didn’t belong on a boy. “you’re cute when you’re nervous,” you said.

his ears flushed pink immediately, and he opened his mouth to say something but couldn’t find the words.

instead, he ducked his head and pulled out a worksheet from his bag, mumbling something about “starting with derivatives.”

for a while, you worked. or at least, you tried to. he was focused, explaining things in his soft, careful voice, gesturing with a pen as he talked.

but the more you listened, the less you heard — your brain slowly replacing the numbers and variables with the warm hum of his voice, the gentle slope of his mouth, the way his fingers tapped the edge of the paper like he needed the rhythm to keep from spiraling.

you weren’t sure when it shifted.

maybe it was when he leaned in to correct your equation, his shoulder brushing yours, and didn’t pull away. maybe it was when your knees touched under the blankets, and neither of you moved. maybe it was the way the air felt heavier now — less like study session, more like waiting for something to happen.

soobin must’ve felt it too. his words started stumbling. he explained one formula three times and still got lost halfway through, cheeks flushed, pupils dilated.

his hand hovered a little too long when he passed you the pen. when your thighs pressed together again, he sucked in a breath and didn’t let it out for four seconds.

you turned slightly to face him, setting your notes aside. the room was quiet now.

just the soft tick of the wall clock and the low buzz of tension coiling between you like a wire being pulled tighter and tighter.

he was looking at your mouth.

you didn’t speak. neither did he. the moment didn’t need narration — it just hung there, charged, inevitable.

and then it snapped.

your lips met his like gravity had pulled them there — sudden, unspoken, too natural to be a mistake. his breath hitched immediately, eyes fluttering shut like a reflex.

he tasted like vanilla and nerves, soft and shaky against your mouth, and when your hand came up to cup his cheek, he made a sound, barely audible, like the beginning of a whimper, and leaned into it like he’d been waiting all night.

you deepened the kiss slowly, letting it unfold, letting him adjust. he responded with this aching softness, fumbling but eager, his fingers curling into the bedsheets like he didn’t trust himself to touch you yet.

he wasn’t practiced, his lips moved like he was still learning. but he kissed you like he meant it. like he felt it.

you pulled back just slightly, breath tangled with his, your foreheads nearly touching.

his eyes stayed shut and he swallowed hard. “is this okay?” he whispered.

you nodded, brushing your thumb over his flushed cheek. “mmhm.”

he opened his eyes then, wide and vulnerable, and you could feel how hard he was trying to stay calm. how the tension in his shoulders hadn’t fully left. like he was waiting for the next step but terrified to ask for it.

but you didn’t rush. you just leaned in again, slower this time, and kissed him like there was nothing else you wanted to do tonight.

and this time, he kissed you back like he believed it.

but the kiss had unraveled something in both him and you.

he was still leaning into you like he hadn’t realized it was over, lips parted, breath catching at the edges, glasses slightly fogged from how close you’d been. you could see the color bleeding up his neck in slow-motion, creeping past his collar like his whole body was flushing from the inside out. he looked dazed. pink. utterly stunned.

you wondered, for a moment, if he’d ever been touched like this before.

but then he blinked, slow and heavy, and something in him cracked open.

he kissed you again, unsure, but full of need. like he’d been holding it back for too long. his hand twitched, then moved up — resting on your waist like he was afraid he’d break something, fingers brushing the hem of your shirt.

you climbed into his lap without thinking. not rushed. not performative. just a natural shift, a quiet surrender to gravity and tension and everything that had been simmering between you all evening.

he made a noise, sharp and startled when your weight settled on him, and his hands flew to your hips like instinct.

you could feel him underneath you already, half-hard and growing fast, and the realization sent a low throb through your stomach.

“fuck,” he whispered before he could stop himself.

you stilled. “hm?”

he looked horrified. “n-no, i mean— i wasn’t— that wasn’t—”

you tilted your head, amusement curling at your lips. “you okay, soobin?”

his throat bobbed. he didn’t answer. just stared at you like you were something holy and terrifying.

then, voice barely a whisper: “i’ve never done this before.”

you blinked. “like… never?”

he shook his head. “n-no. not even close.”

you felt your expression soften, and you leaned in to kiss him again, gentler this time. “you want to stop?”

he hesitated — not with fear, but with something more fragile. like he was trying to trust himself to speak.

“…no. i want to—” he paused, breath shaky. “i want to. just— it’s my first time, not my first time… knowing.”

you blinked again and chuckled slightly. “what?”

he turned bright red. “i… studied.”

you stared.

he flailed. “not in a weird way! i just— i didn’t want to be bad at it. s-so i read stuff. books. forums. diagrams— i even watched videos sometimes but only for like— like educational purposes—”

you blinked again. slowly. “…so you watched porn. like, for science.”

“i wanted to take notes,” he said, sounding genuinely defensive.

you laughed. couldn’t help it. he looked so earnest about it — like he’d genuinely sat down with a browser tab open and a pen in his hand, analyzing thrust angles.

“you’re unreal,” you said softly.

“i just didn’t want to disappoint anyone,” he mumbled, eyes downcast.

you reached down and took his hand, guiding it under your shirt. he froze, mouth open slightly, and his fingertips trembled against the skin of your waist.

“you won’t,” you promised. “you’re already not.”

his breath hitched. he looked up at you like you’d just rewritten the rules of the universe.

you started to grind your hips, slowly, experimentally — not enough to overwhelm, just enough for friction.

just enough for your shorts to tug against his sweats and for the growing heat between you to become unmistakable.

and god, he was big.

you could feel it — not in a vague, flattering way, but in a real, holy-shit-how-are-you-expected-to-fit-inside-me way.

every roll of your hips brought him further into focus, your body reacting before your brain could even catch up. he was so hard already, twitching beneath you, and he hadn’t even touched you properly yet.

“s–shit,” he gasped, eyebrows scrunched. “this— this isn’t in the articles—”

you snorted. “what, grinding?”

“n-no— i mean— yes, but not— not like this—”

you kissed him again, harder this time, swallowing the way his voice caught in his throat. your hands pushed his hoodie up slowly, palms skimming over warm skin, and he shivered when you reached his chest.

he looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself. like every second of contact was tripping a wire in his system.

you whispered against his lips, “you’re gonna let me ride you, right?”

his eyes rolled back so fast it was almost funny. “god— y-yeah. anything. anything you want.”

you reached between you, slipping your hand under his waistband — and what you found made your breath stutter.

he was thick. heavy. the kind of size that made your thighs clench just imagining it. no wonder he’d studied. no wonder he was scared.

you looked at him, slightly stunned. “jesus christ, soobin.”

he blinked, confused. “w-what? is it— is it weird? i read that some people have curve—”

you cut him off with a kiss, messy and open-mouthed, and his hands clutched at your waist like he was trying not to fall off the earth.

“it’s big,” you muttered. “like… really fucking big.”

he made a sound you couldn’t describe — somewhere between a choke and a moan.

you stripped slow, teasing, sliding your shirt off and watching his eyes widen as more skin revealed itself.

he stared like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to look. like he wanted to memorize it but felt guilty for trying.

you helped him out of his clothes next, pulling his hoodie over his head and tugging his sweats down far enough for him to spring free.

he gasped when the air hit him. flushed deep pink from tip to base. twitching slightly in time with his heartbeat.

and yeah. huge.

he tried to say something, but it came out garbled. you didn’t let him speak — just kissed him again, sweeter this time, pressing your body against his until he was whining into your mouth.

“lie back,” you whispered, and he did.

you climbed on top of him slowly, positioning yourself, and when the tip nudged against you, both of you gasped.

you took your time, letting him feel every inch of you — the stretch, the slide, the warmth — and his jaw dropped like it was all short-circuiting him.

“ohmygod,” he moaned, hands flying to your thighs. “ohmygod, it’s so warm— it’s— fuck—”

you bottomed out and paused, letting him breathe. he was gripping you like he was afraid he’d float away, eyes glassy, hips twitching up just barely.

“you okay?” you whispered, brushing his sweaty hair from his face.

he nodded, but he looked wrecked already.

“i-it’s so much,” he choked out. “i d-didn’t think it’d feel this good— i thought— i thought i’d last longer—”

you started moving, and he whimpered.

“oh— oh fuck—” he cried, head falling back against the pillow. “you’re s-so— it’s too good— oh god— i’m gonna— i’m—”

you weren’t even bouncing yet. just rolling your hips, slow and deep, letting his cock drag against every inch of your walls. his eyes fluttered, his chest heaved, and he let out a sound that didn’t even sound human.

“such a good boy,” you whispered, to which he moaned in response. the prettiest noises leaving his mouth as you praised him.

he couldn’t stop shaking underneath you. soobin was all heat and trembling muscle, wide eyes flickering open only to shut again in dazed desperation.

his chest heaved with every shallow breath, slick with sweat, lips parted in a silent plea as your hips rolled down again — slow, deliberate, like you were memorizing the way he stretched you open.

his hands had settled at your waist, not gripping, not guiding — just holding, fingers splayed across your skin like he didn’t want to forget the shape of you. like he wasn’t sure this was real.

every time your cunt dragged down his cock, his stomach fluttered, tightening like a wire being wound tighter and tighter with no end in sight.

he was deep. impossibly so. every inch of him filled you, pressed inside with this perfect fullness that made your vision blur. the curve of his cock nudged something devastating with each movement, and yet the stretch never dulled — not even as your walls grew slicker, your legs trembling from the slow pace.

you rode him with patience. not because you needed to go slow — but because he looked so wrecked.

his eyes glassy, his thighs twitching, mouth caught in a half-moan that never made it out. his expression was nothing short of reverent. overwhelmed. ruined.

you leaned over him, skin sliding against his as your hands braced at either side of his chest. the shift made your angle deeper, pulled a broken sound from his throat that made your core throb.

he tried to lift his hips, just a little, just to chase the feeling, but he couldn’t get the rhythm right, too stunned, too overstimulated, too caught up in the sheer reality of you.

the head of his cock dragged against your walls again, and your mouth fell open with a gasp — because he filled every inch, every curve, as if he was shaped for you alone. he was pulsing inside you already, and you hadn’t even given him permission to move yet.

his hands twitched, your body ached for more, and so you let him.

you shifted, just barely — lifting your hips until only the thick head remained inside you, holding there for a breathless second, watching his jaw slacken as if he’d lost something vital — and then you dropped down again, full weight, taking him all the way in one smooth thrust.

his back arched.

the sound that broke from him was nothing short of guttural — low and soft and strangled at the edges, like he didn’t know what to do with the sensation.

“mmh, i-it… it feels so good… don’t stop… please”

his fingers finally tightened on your hips, not hard, just grounding — and you felt him thrust up.

it was shaky. clumsy. but the strength behind it was unmistakable. he met your next roll with a sharp buck of his hips, and it landed deep, sudden, deliciously raw. your breath caught. his face contorted, eyes fluttering closed, lips trembling.

he did it again. and again.

beneath you, soobin moved like he didn’t even know he could. the soft whimpering boy who’d watched porn for research was gone — replaced by something unfiltered, frantic.

he thrust up into you with so much need, so much pure instinct, that you nearly collapsed against his chest.

he was so warm. so deep. every time you sank back down on his cock, it filled you to the hilt. every motion sending waves of heat through your spine, your stomach, your lungs.

you clenched around him without meaning to — too full, too sensitive — and he gasped like he’d been punched, arms tightening around your waist. he sounded like he was breaking. like it was too much.

you rolled your hips down hard, once, and he cried out.

not loud. not dramatic. just this fragile, broken sob of pleasure that slipped out past gritted teeth as he tried to keep fucking you through it. tried to keep his pace even as his body started failing him.

he was close. you could feel it. his whole body trembling beneath you, stomach fluttering, cock twitching deep inside like he was aching to let go.

“w-wait… im gonna cum… p-please… don’t stop…”you ground down harder, deeper, faster — and he fell apart.

his hips jolted once, then twice, then lost all rhythm. his cock pulsed violently inside you, and then you felt it — thick, hot, the warmth of him spilling into you as his body seized and shuddered.

he buried his face in your neck, arms clinging to you like a lifeline, thighs shaking uncontrollably beneath yours as he came.

every pulse of his cock pushed his cum deeper, filled you more, the mess gathering between your thighs like he couldn’t help it.

his breath hitched, his mouth opened against your skin, and then the tiniest sob escaped — cracked and soft and overwhelmed.

he was crying again.

you held him through it, rocking your hips just slightly to ease him through the aftershocks. he twitched inside you, whimpering, helpless beneath the weight of it all. his hands gripped you like you’d disappear.

his cock throbbed inside you, overstimulated and soaked in your slick, and he just kept whimpering.

you pulled back to look at him.

his eyes were glassy, unfocused. his cheeks damp. he looked like he’d been cracked open from the inside out.

you leaned in and kissed his forehead, then his cheek, then finally his lips — soft and slow, grounding him.

his voice was barely there. “i— i didn’t mean to—”

you shushed him. “you did perfect.”

his lashes fluttered. his arms loosened. his body finally relaxed beneath you, sinking into the mattress, flushed and tear-streaked and filled to the brim.

he looked at you again, and you held his cheek. “you wanna go again?” you said, brushing your thumb across his face, catching a tear that fell earlier.

he nodded slowly, and he was still inside you when he started to move again.

his cock hadn’t even softened fully—still thick, still flushed a deep pink at the base, still twitching inside you from the overstimulation, but now he was shifting, testing, thinking through the daze. and that was the moment you knew, he wasn’t done.

his breath still caught every time your walls clenched, but he was moving—hips subtly lifting, grinding into you in soft, sticky rolls. the cum from his first release had made everything slick, slippery, messy—your thighs wet, your inner walls coated.

he was still nestled so deep you could feel him twitch against your cervix, and when he pulled back a few inches, a broken gasp slipped from your lips.

he froze, like he didn’t expect that sound. you felt his hands tighten at your waist.

“…i wanna try something,” he whispered.

before you could ask, he pulled out with a soft squelch, and you both moaned at the loss. but he didn’t waste time—didn’t even stop to overthink it—he just reached for you and flipped you, slow but firm, until your cheek was pressed against the pillow and your back arched, hips raised just enough.

you turned to glance over your shoulder, heart thudding.

soobin was flushed all the way down to his chest, hair stuck to his forehead, lips pink and parted—but his eyes had sharpened. still soft. still shy. but there was something new there now.

something focused.

his hand settled on your lower back, then drifted down to your ass, squeezing once like he was testing a theory. when he spoke again, his voice was low. almost dazed. “theoretically… this angle should stimulate the anterior wall more consistently.”

you blinked.

“…are you quoting a textbook right now?”

he pushed back in without warning—one slow, gliding thrust, his cock stretching you open again with a wet slide—and you choked on your own breath.

the stretch burned now, fucked-out and sore, but god, he felt so full. the second his hips pressed flush to yours, you felt your arms go weak.

“yeah,” he whispered. “i read about this. from the back, hips raised… it’s supposed to— oh fuck—”

he started moving before he could finish the sentence.

his thrusts were deeper this time. not rough, not fast—intentional. heavy. every motion angled slightly upward, every roll of his hips hitting that same devastating spot, over and over again.

you realized—somewhere between gasping into the sheets and gripping the pillowcase like it might save you—that he meant to do that.

“feels… right?” he panted, voice breathless. “am i… hitting it right?”

you couldn’t speak. could barely even moan. your body was melting around him, dripping slick and cum with every push, your mind already fraying at the edges from how deep he was.

his cock dragged against your walls with obscene precision—too precise, like he was adjusting his angle mid-thrust to line up with your reactions.

every time your thighs trembled, he leaned in further. every time you gasped, he whispered a frantic, “there—like that?” and did it again.

“fuck,” you managed, voice hoarse. “you— god, you feel so fucking good—”

he moaned behind you, and then his fingers curled around your hips to pull you back onto him harder.

the pace stuttered for a moment, but when he found it again, it was relentless. sloppier now, louder. the wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, each thrust jostling you further up the bed.

“read once,” he gasped, “that the g-spot’s like… five centimeters in… angled toward the belly button—f-fuck, wait—”

he adjusted again, slightly upward, and this time you cried out, legs buckling beneath you.

“there,” he whispered. “t-there it is. fuck.”

your entire body clenched. he felt it, gasped again, and leaned over you. now his chest was against your back, his breath warm and fast against your ear, hips still pistoning into you as he pressed you down with the weight of his body.

“you’re so—tight,” he breathed. “s-so warm— i can’t— i c-can’t stop—”

you weren’t stopping him.

your brain had shut off halfway through his nerdy monologue, somewhere between “g-spot location” and “angle of friction”. all you knew now was the way his cock dragged against your walls, the obscene squelch of your mixed arousal leaking down your thighs, the sound of his voice trembling as he kept going, even as his rhythm began to falter.

you could feel him close again. his thrusts started to stutter—less controlled, more desperate.

every breath came out choked. his grip on your hips turned vice-like, and his weight pressed you harder into the mattress.

“g-gonna cum again,” he whimpered, voice cracking. “inside, please, i can’t— i want— fuck, please—”

you let him. you even tightened around him on purpose. and that broke him.

his hips slammed forward one final time—deep and hard, burying himself to the hilt—and then he snapped, groaning into your shoulder as he came again, harder this time.

hot and messy, cock twitching wildly as his cum spilled out in thick spurts, dripping back down your thighs with every shudder.

he didn’t move for a long moment. just panted against your neck, body trembling, arms around you like a blanket.

still buried deep, still twitching from the aftershocks, still too full of sensation to pull out.

you were shaking too. used. sore. stuffed.

he kissed the back of your shoulder, then your spine. slow, reverent.

“…did i do good?” he asked softly, voice hoarse and breathless.

you turned your head enough to look at him.

he was flushed. swollen. smiling—barely.

you cupped his cheek, pulled him down into a kiss, and let him melt into you again.

you didn’t move for a while.

your body felt… gelatinous. boneless. like you’d been poured out, reshaped, and forgotten on warm sheets.

your thighs were trembling, too slick to close properly, your breath still shallow as you stared blankly at the headboard, brain empty except for the faint memory of being absolutely ruined.

and behind you—still pressed close, still inside—you could feel him twitching softly. Soobin’s arm was curled around your waist, his forehead damp against your shoulder, and his chest rose and fell in uneven waves as he tried to catch his breath.

“…i think i broke you,” he whispered.

his voice was so soft, so tentative, that you let out a shaky laugh despite yourself.

“maybe just… a little,” you mumbled, voice hoarse.

he didn’t respond right away. just let out a breath that was almost a whimper, and very slowly, he pulled out.

the sound was obscene—wet and slow and too much. his cum spilled out in thick, creamy rivulets, already smeared down your inner thighs, soaking the backs of your legs and your sheets.

he groaned under his breath the second he saw it, like even looking was too much for his nervous system to handle.

“oh my god,” he said, eyes wide. “i—fuck, i didn’t mean to—there’s just—so much—”

you flopped onto your back with a wince and watched him sit up on shaky legs, completely naked, flushed red from head to toe, hair a mess. his dick was still red and slightly twitching, glistening at the tip from whatever hadn’t managed to stay inside you.

he scrambled for his hoodie, dragging it on clumsily and then half-tripping as he grabbed his backpack off the floor.

“d-don’t move,” he babbled. “i’ve got—uh—one sec—”

you blinked. “soobin… what are you doing.”

he held up a pack of wet wipes.

“…why do you have those?” you asked.

he looked mortified. “i-it’s for glasses! and, um. keyboard dust.”

but he was already kneeling between your legs, gingerly nudging them apart with the back of his hand.

his face flushed impossibly deeper at the sight—your swollen folds, the sheer amount of cum, the fact that he put it there.

you watched his throat bob as he took a breath and started cleaning you.

gently, carefully.

he touched you like you might break, using slow, soothing strokes, barely applying pressure.

when the wipe brushed over your entrance and another trail of cum spilled out, he made a tiny noise in his throat and mumbled, “oh my god—i’m so sorry—”

you couldn’t stop smiling, too wrecked to be shy, too full of affection to care. “you’re apologizing for fucking me now?”

“i-i just—i should’ve warned you. or slowed down. or—” he paused, looking deeply concerned, “—maybe done a few more warmup exercises—”

you reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping the endless spiral of his thoughts. “soobin.”

he froze. eyes wide.

“you were perfect.”

he blinked, like you’d just told him he aced an exam he forgot to study for.

“…r-really?”

“really.” you tugged him closer. “come here.”

he climbed onto the bed clumsily and wrapped his arms around you.

you let your head rest on his shoulder, body melting into the warmth of him as his fingertips gently traced circles over your spine.

he pressed a soft kiss to your temple. then your cheek. then, with shaky hesitation, to your lips.

“…you feel okay?” he murmured against your mouth.

“sore,” you admitted. “but in a good way.”

his ears went pink. “i didn’t think it’d… i mean, you were so tight, and i thought—i mean, i calculated it before, but actually being inside—”

you laughed again, too tired to tease him. “soobin.”

he looked at you, dazed and flushed and in love with you, probably.

you kissed him again.

and this time, he smiled against your lips. soft. warm. nerdy.

“…can i write about this in my notes?” he asked suddenly, like he couldn’t help it.

and you burst out laughing.

[suunani]

feel it grow together [ choi soobin ]

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.

📜 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗿𝗲𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 <𝟯 !!

[overtheggum]

huening's (very much) real girlfriend

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.”

“I’m not following,” Kai said calmly.

“You’ve never watched shoujo anime,” Soobin continued, pausing deliberately, “like. Ever.”

Kai shrugged. “What if I like romance anime?”

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.

“Oh my—” Beomgyu’s voice cracked mid-sentence. “WHAT—”

The scream echoed down the dorm hallway.

And just like that, Kai knew.

The moment wasn’t just ruined.

The entire dorm was about to know.

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.

[inkriki]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝒻reaky 𝓉exts ⌖ ⌗soobin

[fairyofshampgyu]

☆ On Hiatus ?!

genre: college au, manhwa artist au, crack, smut

pairing: nsfw manhwa artist ! beomgyu x fem student ! reader

warnings: sub beomgyu, virgin beomgyu, dom reader, loss of virginity, hand job, beomgyu has sensitive thighs, kinda thigh kink, ear licking, marking, cum eating, grinding, riding, use of pet name ‘puppy’, degrading, praise, hand holding, hating men lol

synopsis: your favourite femdom manhwa goes on hiatus, leaving you heartbroken. You join your uni’s manga club in hopes of finding something else fun to do. Unbeknownst to you, your favourite author is sitting amongst you.

word count: 6.3k

You’d recently joined your university’s severely underfunded manga club under the guise of picking up a new hobby. And whilst it was partially to pick up a new hobby, there was another underlying reason you probably wouldn’t tell anyone else about; You were grieving.

‘Rotten Peonies.’

The greatest piece of erotic femdom manhwa to ever grace the digital shelves, in your personal opinion. It was your favourite manhwa of all time and it was everything you could possibly ever want in a piece of media, as if it were a rare fruit hand picked specially just for you, that it was pretty uncanny how much it suited just to your own taste buds.

You waited eagerly every week to read the latest chapter and it was what kept you going when uni life and just every other aspect of life got too hectic, too stressful, too…much. It was your escape and you were so attached to all the characters by now, but mostly the male lead, Choi Taekbae. From his pretty character design with the shaggy wolfcut, brown doe eyes and rosy cheeks, to his funny, playful, golden retriever-esque personality, and the way he orbited around the female lead like a lovesick puppy, he was completely your type to the T. And the way he acted around and treated the female lead, submitting to them, letting them do whatever they wanted to him, never ceased to make you giggle and sigh out at your screen.

Taekbae was completely unlike how real men were and the manhwa was made totally catered towards the eyes of women: gorgeous art style and fashion, well thought out characters, real chemistry, and just the good amount of filthy. It understood what women actually wanted to see. Unlike all that other grotesque, borderline pedophilic slop men wrote. With the highly unrealistic female characters reduced to boobs ridiculously the size of hot air balloons, yet they always had a stick thin figure somehow, body proportions way off to be real. And of course, they always had to make them act child-like too, always in need of saving by their way too muscular toxic, alpha man. That’s why you liked ‘Rotten Peonies’ and taekbae so much, it was refreshing.

Real men will always end up disappointing you one day. You lived by that, you’d seen it happen many a times, had it happen to yourself a few times too. They’ll let you down, they’re all the same, some just take longer to show their true colours. It’s only a matter of when it will happen, not if.

You did not know who the writer was, appearing under a pen name ‘CBG’, but you’re so certain it’s a woman because there was no way in hell a man would ever have the capabilities to write such a masterpiece. A very cool, very feminist, very cultured, intellectual woman with impeccable taste. You admired her art and looked up to her so much.

But it wasn’t just how deliciously drawn the panels of Choi Taekbae were when he was getting fucked with pretty, teary eyes—which you meticulously saved to your camera roll—that you were drawn to by now, the plot was captivating and you were also incredibly emotionally invested and attached to the storyline as well. Surprisingly, the story was quite sweet and butterflies-in-your-stomach inducing, making you also read it for the cute, romantic moments between the main characters, while cursing the universe for not handing you your own Taekbae.

Which is why your stomach had completely dropped, utterly devastated after you had eagerly anticipated the latest chapter like you usually do, giggling into your pillow and kicking your feet at taekbae until the very end, then biting your nails at the very tense cliffhanger. It’s alright, you just have to wait one week, you’d told yourself. You’d absentmindedly scrolled down to read the author’s note, and thats when you saw the two words that shattered your entire world:

On hiatus !

‘Sorry I’m just not having much inspiration at the moment to continue anymore!’

No, no, no. This can’t be. What were you supposed to look forward to anymore?! Some series’ remain on hiatus for so long and never end up coming back. What if CBG never writes for it ever again? What if you never find out what happens next, what became of Taekbae and the female lead? What were you supposed to do without seeing new panels of taekbae anymore? Were you supposed to just keep on living? Without closure?

So, maybe you are being a little bit too dramatic, but it doesn’t matter, your beloved manhwa!

You were beyond distraught, completely devastated, which led you to joining your uni’s manga club in the mean time to cope. At least it would have you looking forward to something else every week. You also just wanted to learn about the actual process of making comics, since you always found it intriguing how your favourite author could even possibly make such art, could evoke so much emotions from you with a single panel. And who knows, maybe you could even create your own little stories and characters, your own world to escape to sometimes.

Being at the manga club had made you completely empathetic towards your favourite author. You could perfectly understand why they might have went on a hiatus now, it was hard work and there was a lot that actually went into it. And, despite there being not many members, it was very insightful. You were starting to enjoy it a lot, picking up a new hobby instead was actually really fun. Or, it would have been.

“So do we get free snacks, or was that false advertising or something?”

Choi Beomgyu.

“They’re not technically free.” Kai, your club president, had explained politely, still giving him a friendly smile. “Everyone takes turns each week to bring in snacks or bake them for all the members to eat.”

“Cool.” He’d leaned in, ripping open a packet of crisps with ill manners, not bothering to listen for the rest of the meeting.

That was your first impression of him, and you can’t say you’ve seen him in a better light, in fact, it only consolidated your thoughts about him. He’d joined around the same time as you and he was pretty insufferable. He was lazy, never took the lessons seriously like how you did, irritatingly, inexplicably handsome—not that it matters—and he made the most annoying, eye rolling commentary and jokes ever during the sessions.

While the rest of you actually tried to analyse storyboarding techniques, effects, and how to create and draw backgrounds, beomgyu spent most of the club meetings sprawled across the folded chairs, legs spread wide and munching on snacks obnoxiously loud, saying stupid things for attention like, “Do you reckon Shonen writers have a kink for dead parents or…? Like, why do they always have to add that?” You’d watched, eye twitching as his crumbs scattered over the stack of carefully arranged Shonen volumes on the table. Why he was here, at your nerdy little club, you didn’t know.

Actually, you were absolutely sure he was only here for the free snacks, which it wasn’t like that was just a mere speculation anyway, the dead giveaway being that he’d eat and shamelessly pocket away half the snacks on the table.

He was exactly the type of man you hated in this world, that made you pray, hopefully, somewhere out there in this world, there could be a choi taekbae.

Kai cheerfully clapped his hands today, earning everyone’s attention. “Alright, everyone! We’re going to pair up and try to create a short one-shot manga based on the shoujo genre. Doesn’t need to be perfect, it’s just for fun and to show to everyone else next week!”

You sat straighter in your chair, excited at the sound of the project. It was totally up your alley, maybe you’d even make something inspired by Rotten Peonies, something worthy of CBG herself.

But, with you and beomgyu being the newbies, of course, everyone had made their own tight knit group of friends by now, already pairing up with their best mates, which unfortunately left just you and choi beomgyu on your own. You look around the room desperately crazed, frantically hoping there was someone else left on their own, but to no avail, there was no one else you could work with.

And so, you were forced to partner up with him. This was going to be utter hell.

“Guess we’re partners.” Beomgyu smirks, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair. “Don’t worry. I’m a creative genius. You’re in good hands.”

You scoff incredulously at him. “Yeah, right.”

That’s how you ended up at beomgyu’s dorm, sitting cross legged on his bed, a notebook between you as you both tried to brainstorm ideas together.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” You ask, narrowing your eyes as beomgyu tapped his pen on the paper repeatedly with creased brows in exaggerated concentration.

“Yes,” Beomgyu says confidently. “Actually, I’m pretty experienced.” He looks up at you with infuriatingly self assured eyes, twirling the pen around his fingers, doing, admittedly, pretty impressive pen tricks. “It’s my passion.”

You don’t believe that, leaning back and crossing your arms at him. “Well, do you even know what shoujo is?”

“Yeah, Shoujo is catered towards girls-” He says, looking pleased with himself but then breaks off, frowning as if struck by a revelation, tossing the pen onto the bed and suddenly getting up. “Wait a sec.” Before you could ask what he’s doing, he hops off the mattress and disappears for a bit into the kitchen without another word. A few minutes later, he returns triumphantly with a pack of gummy sweets, chewing on them.

You raise a brow at him.

“What? I love gummies.” Beomgyu tilts his head, muffled with his mouth disgustingly full with them, cheeks all round and puffed.

“At this age?”

He shakes his head at you, tutting. “Wowww. You’re ageist. I’m going to twitter and I’m gonna cancel you.”

“They’re way too sweet for anyone who’s not nine.” You roll your eyes and retort.

He makes a deeply offended look your way and plops himself back down onto the bed, stuffing four more of the sweets into his mouth all at once, not even bothering to ask you if you’d like them too, or asking if you’d like to eat or drink anything for that matter. Some host he is.

“Right. Ideas?” You sigh, waiting for him to diligently chew the sweets he’d gobbled up at once before he can speak again, his mouth still full and frankly, looking like he was struggling.

Finally, beomgyu swallows with a cartoonish gulp and then brightens up instantly. “We should make a parody of shoujo tropes. It’s usually romance, set in high school, there’s holding umbrellas out for the heroine, someone gets sick and the other nurses them back, school trip to the beach, someone confessing during firework festivals, an annoying ex comes back from the dead, they’re locked in a storage room, there’s only one bed, blah, blah, you know all that stuff.”

He’s strangely pretty informed on this. You nod in approval, a parody could be a good idea. You’re a pretty competitive person, and whilst it’s not even being judged, you still have this need to be the best out of everyone else and to impress your club president. “Uh huh. Okay. We need character ideas.”

“Well, there has to be a hot guy. Girls love that.” Beomgyu draws a large, lopsided stick figure on the paper, labelling it ‘HOT GUY.’ He grins stupidly and shoves the notebook proudly towards you. “This is our male lead. This is Hot Guy.”

You stare at it, unimpressed. “I don’t think we can hand that in. I’m gonna be honest.”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes, “Obviously not. We just need to figure out who he is first.”

“A cliche bad boy?” You suggest.

Beomgyu dramatically scribbles ‘BAD BOY’ drawing out an arrow from the stick man.

You pinch your nose bridge. You don’t think you’ll get a lot done today. “Let’s give him a name then.”

“Timmy.”

“WE’RE NOT CALLING HOT GUY THAT.”

“What? Timmy is iconic. I’d swoon over him.” Beomgyu theatrically places a hand over his chest in mock sincerity.

Shaking your head, you grab the notebook and pen out of his grasp, ignoring the accidental brush of his warm, soft fingers against yours- Clearing your throat, you cross out Timmy and write Seojun instead.

“I still think it’s a good name. Timmy…” Beomgyu mutters mournfully.

You ignore him. “Okay we need to give Hot Guy Seojun a personality.”

Beomgyu pouts but perks back up and contemplates, tapping his chin and looking up to the ceiling in deep thought. “Maybe…everyone thinks he’s this bad boy but he’s actually not at all, what if he’s actually a scaredy cat? Shy? If it’s a parody, what if we reverse the stereotypical gender roles? Make the female protagonist the bolder one?

“Ooh. That’s kinda good.” You nod, eyes lighting up, slightly impressed that he could even form any ideas. “Write that down.”

The both of you get excited now, beomgyu clearly very happy that you liked his suggestion, smiling back at you with little crescent moon eyes. You draw out arrows, bouncing ideas back and forth, adding traits to your male protagonist, what he likes and dislikes, what he could look like, what he could wear. Once you were done, it was time to properly sketch Hot Guy Seojun out.

“I’ll do it,” Beomgyu volunteers, snatching the pen before you could argue. You watch him fully skeptical, ready to mock whatever doodle he comes up with, expecting another one of his lopsided stick figures. But once he’s done and pushes the notebook pridefully your way to see, you’re taken by complete surprise.

Because it was good, like, really good.

A very handsome man with messy hair, fox like eyes and a sharp jawline stares up at you from the page, a drawing exactly like how you’d expect a male lead in a comic to look like. His art style was surprisingly so pretty, it almost reminded you of CBG’s, but it’s probably a common style. Clean, expressive, precise. His line work and perfect inking had this polished look to it that you’d only ever seen in actual professional manhwas and mangas.

“…You can draw?!” You blurt out, astounded.

Beomgyu tilts his head innocently, feigning offence. “Of course I can. I said I was experienced. This is my passion.”

“Why did you join the manga club?” You query, still in awe at his drawing skills.

Beomgyu shrugs, spinning the pen in his hand. “I like making comics in my spare time but I’ve been struggling with it lately. Thought if I joined I could learn more and get my motivation back maybe. What about you?” Beomgyu asks curiously, “Why’d you join?”

“My favourite manhwa series went on hiatus.” You confess. “I didn’t have anything else fun to do anymore so I joined the club because I wanted to learn about the process and maybe make my own.” But you couldn’t refrain yourself, once you started talking about it, you couldn’t stop, couldn’t help but go on a long, impassioned rant. “—She left us on such a big cliffhanger! And the main guy, Taekbae, oh my god, he’s my favourite character ever, he’s literally perfect and so cute and funny and my type and-”

Suddenly beomgyu pauses mid pen spin, eyes slowly going wide. You were too busy, gesticulating animatedly to notice though. “You’re a big fan, huh?” Beomgyu asks carefully, slowly.

“I’m her biggest fan,” you declare. “I was so heartbroken when I saw the hiatus note.”

“Huh.” A grin slowly spreads across his face, “Yeah… i’ll get to it eventually.”

You blink at him. “Huh?” What was this dude even going on about?

He leans forward, looking insufferably smug. “You’re talking about Rotten Peonies. I’m CBG.”

You stare at him. He stares back. Then you snort, incredulous. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious!” Beomgyu says, still grinning. “CBG. Choi. Beom. Gyu. That’s me. I drew it, idiot.”

“No. No, you didn’t.” This was a very weird joke of his. But then again, you’ve never quite understood his type of humour. Although, you don’t know how he knew you were talking about Rotten Peonies, though saying taekbae’s name might have given it away. Still, why would he even know that?

“Yes I did.”

“You didn’t.”

“Did.”

“No.”

“I literally did!”

“Prove it!”

Exasperatedly, beomgyu flips to a blank sheet and in a minute, sketches out an exact perfect replica of a Rotten Peonies panel of taekbae and the heroine. “Believe me now?”

You gape. “Okay…that’s…scarily accurate. But this still doesn’t actually prove anything. You just copied it out.”

Beomgyu sighs, getting up to rifle through a folder on his desk. Out came piles of drafts, storyboards, covers. He even pulls up his publishing account on his laptop, in which you can clearly see he was the author.

Your jaw hit the floor. “Holy shit—” You just blink at him, utterly dumbfounded, brain short circuiting.

He was CBG.

How was that possible?

CBG was a girl! Okay, it was never actually stated, but how can a man write so much emotional depth, actual good erotica? And most of all, Choi Beomgyu, the guy who manspreads and leaves crumbs all on the shonen mangas, who makes the dumbest commentary?!

Then, you grab his shirt in both fists, eyes wild, shaking him hysterically, “YOU MUST WRITE THE NEXT PART! I HAVE TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS AFTER THEIR ARGUMENT ABOUT BEING MORE THAN FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS AND THE WHOLE SHIT WITH BAEKHYUNG!”

“Wha-hey! Okay, okay.” Beomgyu flails and yelps, slightly freaked out by you. “You’re…very intense.”

“I’ve been going insane.” You snap, still clutching onto his shirt, just accepting the maddening information you found out, there were more pressing matters here, your beloved manhwa was on the line.

Beomgyu sheepishly sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Honestly, I’ve been struggling with the sex scenes. They feel… I dunno. Unrealistic? Like I’m not doing it right.”

You knit your brows, you’ve never thought that. Everything was perfect. “Why do you think that?”

“Because I don’t…” Beomgyu hesitates, cheeks blooming pink. “I…I don’t…”

“Don’t what?” You press him.

Beomgyu sighs again. “I don’t actually know what it’s like..” he winces, ears also going a very vivid, bright shade of red.

Your eyes go wide. “No way. You mean, you’re a virgin?”

“Shut up.” Beomgyu mumbles, completely embarrassed and averting your gaze.

You laugh so hard your sides hurt. “You’ve been drawing porn this whole time, and you’ve never even had sex?”

Beomgyu groans, burying his face in his hands which only makes you giggle even more at him. It’s quite cute.

And that’s when it hits you.

The wolfcut. The shy, embarrassed flush. The way his puppy eyes dart away like he’d die of shame. You gasp. “OH MY GOD. Taekbae’s literally just a self-insert because you can’t get laid! You mean I’ve been thirsting over your self-insert this whole time?!

Beomgyu’s head shoots up, furrowing his brows in denial. “What-NO! Self insert?? No, he’s nothing like me.”

“You literally gave him your hair!”

“That’s a coincidence!”

You arch a brow, unimpressed, giving him a stern, deadpan look as if to say ‘come on, it’s so obvious.’

He deflates under your gaze. “Well, okay, maybe a little-”

You cross your arms and huff, but you’re heavily amused right now, narrowing your eyes as you stare at him cryptically, slowly grinning. You just thought of an absolutely brilliant idea. “So…what you’re saying is that you’d write again, get inspiration, if…someone actually fucked you?”

Beomgyu opens his mouth then closes it, utterly speechless.

“Fine. I’ll do it.” You shrug.

“You’ll—what?!”

“I’ll pop your cherry. You better write that next part.”

You could tell he was nervous, practically hyperventilating, chewing on his bottom lip raw.

“Relax, beomgyu.”

“I am!”

“No…you’re not. I know I’m hot and all, but breathe.”

You sat behind him, your chest pressed against his back, your legs spread as he sat in between them, your breath tickling the side of his neck and making goosebumps arise on his skin and his whole body, visibly shuddering. Beomgyu squeezes his eyes tightly shut.

You sigh, placing your hand onto his thigh thinking it’d calm him but it only makes him jolt violently. You try again, voice softer, rubbing slow circles on his skin. “If it’s too much you’ll tell me, okay?”

Beomgyu’s throat bobs, his sharp adam’s apple moving up and down as he nods, a little more relaxed, but still only a little. “Mmh.”

You bring your hand to hold his bare cock, thumb pressed on his slit, very lightly, only slightly, swirling your thumb around on his fat, pink, leaky tip. The effect is immediate, beomgyu sucks in a shaky breath, gazing down at what you’re doing to him, so flustered at the sight. You try to calm him down some more, trying to loosen him up as he sat so stiffly, so on edge, only keeping those light, slow ministrations for him to be able to get used to it. Your other hand combs gently through his soft hair, massaging his scalp as he leans into your touch.

“M-more…” beomgyu speaks up after a while, faint but needy, feeling a lot more comfortable now.

You stilled. “You sure?”

He nods so quickly you almost laugh, and so you slowly start sliding your hand up and down, smearing the slickness on his length. Beomgyu’s thighs tremble, a little closed whimper escaping from his mouth. Your free hand grabs onto his thigh again, digging your nails into the pretty plushness, partly to stop them from shaking, but also because you heavily enjoyed his reactions when you touched his thigh.

“Jesus, are your thighs that sensitive?”

Beomgyu attempts to shake his head, but you can see the way his eyes already glaze over just from your slow movements on his dick and your hand gripping his thigh, “N-no-!” You rake your sharp nails down them, dragging and leaving a little trail of faint, reddened lines onto the skin that was once unblemished. A squeaky, startled noise leaves beomgyu’s mouth at that, bucking into your hand, hips jerking. You want to leave his thighs filled with all sorts of marks and scratches and bites and kisses, they’d look prettier like that.

You hold onto his thigh harder, squeezing the flesh, bringing your pace on his dick a little faster and your hand wrapping a little tighter around his girth. Beomgyu clasps a hand to his mouth, eyes squeezed shut in overwhelming pleasure and trying to quiet down the loud moan he just let out.

“Why are you slapping your hand to your mouth? We’re at your dorm?”

“O-oh right…” Beomgyu removes his hand from his mouth, placing his hand down and balling it into a tiny little fist on his lap instead, still trying to fruitlessly suppress all the noises he’s making, incredibly shy and bashful and you can’t help but giggle at him. The next noise that spills out of him is a strangled whimper, caught halfway between embarrassment and overwhelming pleasure.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s just you and me here. No one else can hear.” You coo at him, bringing your hand to play with the soft locks of his hair once more, “I want to hear your pretty moans. Don’t hide them.” You ghost your lips over his neck, gently placing kisses on the delicate column of his neck, but of course, his neck is sensitive too.

You lick a slow stripe up the side of his dainty neck, watching the way he shivers as you chuckle, now sucking hickeys onto it, seeing how they slowly appear on his skin like ink blotches seeping into paper, violet and maroon and magenta, an assortment of colours on his porcelain complexion.

His fairy-like ears are so cute too, so red, and small, you catch his ear lobe in between your teeth, pulling and tugging and then licking a stripe along them too as beomgyu’s squirms and whimpers at the feeling, sucking nastily on his ear, watching him writhe.

You pick up the pace of stroking his cock, pumping him up and down, thumbing at the slit, twisting your fist at the base, and it’s all too much for him, breath faltering with every stroke. He throws his head back, resting it on your neck, succumbing into you and slumping onto your own body, you’re basically holding onto him, definitely not stiff anymore. His deep chesty, restrained moans, becoming breathier and whinier as times goes on, losing himself completely, “H-hahhh…” beomgyu pants as you whisper a mix of filthy words and praises into his ear.

Another grab at his thigh and digging your sharp nails deeper into them, and you feel the spurts of his cum reach your hand with a ragged cry. He orgasms fast, but that’s what you expected anyway, he’s a virgin after all. Beomgyu turns his head, hiding his face and panting into your neck, “Woah…t-that was…”

You scoop up his pretty cum onto your index and middle finger, bringing it to his face, “Open your mouth, puppy.”

Beomgyu widens his eyes, but the pet name clearly fries his brain, because he accepts, opening his mouth for you obediently. Of course being called puppy gets to him, it’s obvious, if not for the light pet play that appeared pretty often in the manhwa he wrote. Beomgyu’s tongue peeks out, letting you stuff your fingers into his mouth, he looks at you as he wraps his lips around them, sucking and licking his own cum clean off your fingers, doing it so well, moaning around your fingers, his eagerness and the way his eyes were fixed on you filthy and obscene but so sexy.

The sight was too familiar. You’ve seen this in Rotten Peonies with taekbae, his puppy eyes looking up at the female lead as he diligently sucks on her fingers, swallowing his own cum, you’ve saved it to your camera roll, added it to your hidden file. This was so strange. You can’t say you didn’t like it though. Especially now that you’re seeing the resemblance with takebae and beomgyu, god this freak was really just writing his own fantasies.

“You’ve been dreaming of this haven’t you, virgin?” You tease but beomgyu just nods, unable to say anything. “Pathetic.” You spit out, as if the sight of him wasn’t making your pussy flutter and making you so incredibly soaked through your pants, as if this wasn’t everything you’ve pretty much wanted in real life.

You pull your fingers out of his mouth slowly, watching the connecting string of saliva from his mouth and your fingers stretch. Then you grab his shoulders, pushing him down onto the bed and you crawl on top of him, straddling him. He immediately tenses again, getting nervous all over.

You take your bottoms off, leaving you in your underwear and you seat yourself on his bare cock, sliding your clothed pussy on his sensitive dick. Beomgyu nearly chokes, breath catching in his throat.

You roll your hips lazily, moving and grinding against him over and over, your own lips parted as the friction bumps with your clit, your panties drenched by now and leaking onto his own wet dick. Beomgyu’s head falls back into the pillow, throwing his forearm over his face, other hand curling into the sheets tightly, clearly not being able to take it.

“Beomgyu,” you murmur, grinning at his fucked out expression. “Take my shirt off.”

Beomgyu freezes like a cute little deer in headlights. Slowly, awkwardly, he tugs at the hem until you help him yank it over your head. He freezes again when faced with your bra, staring dumbly, seemingly bewildered.

“And my bra.” You deadpan.

He reaches up, attempting to, nervously fiddling with the fabric.

“Are you serious right now?”

“I’m trying!” Beomgyu protests and whines. And after far too long, the clasp finally comes undone. At the sight of your tits, beomgyu’s mouth falls open, flustered beyond belief and eyes completely glued to them in awe, like he’d never seen boobs in his life-which, you guess he hadn’t.

“You’re so hot. So pretty…” He doesn’t even move, still staring and gawking at your breasts in disbelief.

Rolling your eyes, you grab his hand and press it firmly to one of your breasts to which he lets out a gasp. “You’re allowed to touch, you know.”

“O-okay…”

Beomgyu cups one of your tits in his hand, still in awe, squeezing inexperienced, too timid, too unsure, just little presses and squeezes, bringing his thumb to slowly brush over, feeling your nipple, and gaping. “It’s so soft…and squishy.”

You laugh, almost, fondly at him. He writes and draws all this filthy shit, and yet he acts like this. “You’ve drawn countless panels of porn, how are you so clueless?”

Beomgyu furrows his brows, his face on fire. “Drawing and doing are two very different things you know!!”

You giggle once more at his expression, voice dripping with mockery. “Come on, even taekbae knows this much.”

He just hides his face in his hands, those small, little breathy moans and gasps still escaping him as you continue to hump his dick, grinding down on him, sliding your clothed pussy along him.

“Aw, my dumb little virgin. You want me to fuck you? Do you wanna know what it feels like to be inside me, hm?” you purr, leaning down just enough so your breath ghosts against his ear.

Beomgyu just nods along to your words stupidly like a bobblehead, moving his hips mindlessly with yours, speechless and unable to speak up, eyes half lidded and his thick long lashes fluttering.

You grab his chin in your hand, grinding down harder on him for emphasis. “Use your words, dumb puppy.”

“Please,” he blurts out immediately, voice cracking so high, “please, wan’ you to fuck me…Want you to take me.”

“You wouldn’t be cumming inside me within seconds like a little virgin, would you?”

“No, nonono.” Beomgyu shakes his head wildly, “Promise I won’t. Want to be inside, please. Please?”

The desperation of his voice goes straight to your core so you lift yourself off him to rid yourself of your drenched underwear, discarding it carelessly. His big eyes follow every single one of your movements like a starved, waiting dog, gaze snapping back up to you when your hand wraps around his cock. You grab his dick, using the head to rub your clit, drawing little stuttered gasps from his lips, sliding him over your slicked entrance and folds, the feeling of your pussy actually on his dick, too much for him already, his hips twitching helplessly beneath you. Beomgyu mewls, head thrashing against his pillow. “O-oh—fuck—please—”

“Are you really sure, beomgyu?” You ask him again, gently, sincerely, scanning all over his face for any uncertainty.

“Yeah, yes-want it so bad.” Beomgyu pants needily, hips jerking up desperately just at the thought.

You inspect his face once more for any hesitation and then take a hold of his dick, hovering, just about to sink down on his fat tip, the head of his cock pressing right against your entrance, and suddenly, he panics.

“Fuck, fuck, shit, okay. I’m kinda scared.” Beomgyu comically breathes in and out, his heart racing, bracing himself.

But you find it quite endearing and entertaining, laughing softly at his expression. “Scared of what?”

“I don’t know!”

“Do you want to be inside me or not?”

“Fuck, I do.” Beomgyu whines, seemingly in a dilemma.

You lean down, staring at him assuring and serious, cupping his face, pressing his hot cheek to your palm and you feel him melt and relax instantly at your touch. “It’s okay gyu, I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. You have to tell me though.”

Beomgyu nods, looking into your eyes too. “Y-you can do it. I want you to.” he says finally, voice trembling but certain.

So, you ever so slowly, sink down all the way onto his dick, inch by inch until he’s buried inside to the hilt. It knocks the wind completely out of beomgyu, gasping for air, throwing his head back so theatrically, moaning out so long and loud, it doesn’t sound like it could be real, straight pornographic, his entire body arched. “Ohh. oh my g-Oh my god…”

“Is this okay?”

“Y-yeah…ffuck…”

Beomgyu reaches his hand out like a man drowning, grasping and taking a hold of one of your hands in his, and interlocking them as if grounding him, holding onto it so tightly as he tries to catch his breath, panting deeply. You don’t move, waiting for him to get used to the feeling of being inside your pussy first.

“Shit, ‘m okay. You can keep going.”

You swivel your hips around him, then leisurely, for his sake, start riding him. Beomgyu reacts to everything, every roll of your hips, every shift of angle, sending him spiralling further, literally so sensitive it’s unreal, every sensation so new to him, his appearance and the noises he makes are priceless, cute, deep, yet whiny little cries slipping past his lips.

As time goes on, and you quicken your pace, bouncing on his sticky dick, still holding his hand, beomgyu is long gone, not knowing how to endure being fucked. The most dumbest, debauched, dreamy expression taking over his entire face, genuinely drooling, dribbling down from the corner of his mouth and onto his chin. Apparently, you’d fucked him so dumb already.

“Puppy, does it feel good?” You taunt, even though his expression was already answer enough.

It takes beomgyu a while for him to even register you’d asked him a question, and an even longer while to actually formulate an actual thought and an answer to it.

Beomgyu’s eyelids droop heavily with pleasure, sweat beading his brow, slurring his words and his lisp fully coming out, “ughh is sso goood, ugh-ah, pussy sso perfect. It’s ssso…” he was meant to say more, but he doesn’t bother continuing, cutting himself off, his eyes flickering down, getting hypnotised, watching as your boobs jiggle with every bounce right in front of his face, wonderstruck by this. What a perv.

He looks just like how taekbae looks when he’s getting fucked right now, so delirious, he sounds so wrecked, definitely looks like it too. His messy, sweat ridden bangs of his brown wolfcut falling into his eyes. All you can see now are his glossy, glistening, plump, round lips parted and stustained in the perfect shape of an ‘o’.

This entire predicament is still so crazy to you, you’re basically fucking your favourite character in a way. You can’t believe he’s still CBG who you looked up to. The annoying idiot from your manga club who scoffs all the snacks. You also can’t believe you’re seeing Choi beomgyu like this, and you never thought he’d be a virgin.

“Will you kiss me?” That cuts your thoughts off.

“Huh?”

“Please. Kiss me?” Beomgyu looks up at you with devastatingly vulnerable, sparkly, round, big, eyes, his voice small. He looks like he’d cry if you say no to him, pleading at you, needing the intimacy.

You can’t say no to that, leaning down, you capture your lips with his, kissing him softly but messily, tongues tangling together. Beomgyu whimpers sweetly into your mouth, closing his eyes and so into kissing you, his hand that has been interlaced with yours this entire time, refusing to let go, squeezing even tighter as you ruthlessly ride him. Wet, filthy sounds of you fucking him take over the room, as well as a plethora of beomgyu’s pretty, euphonious moans he emits into your mouth that you gobble up, increasing in volume and reaching an octave higher, music to your ears.

You bite at his bottom lip, dragging your teeth and he pulls away for air, “y/n…I’m soo closee...” Incoherent words of begging and your name, falling past his lips, face contorted with overwhelming bliss and ecstasy. You clench around his cock so tightly on purpose, earning a mangled, raw scream from him and he cums immediately after, cumming so hard from being fucked for the first time and shooting a substantial amount of his load inside that it overflows, and when you pull yourself off, it all stickily oozes back onto and around his dick, his breath coming out in ragged sobs and gasps of disbelieved pleasure. “Fuckfuckfuck—” Beomgyu cries out, astonished and just totally overwhelmed with everything right now.

He doesn’t last long again, you not even being able to have your own orgasm, but you can’t even be annoyed at him. He’s so cute. His gorgeous reactions to everything and the way he was so sensitive was so much more worth it and rewarding than any orgasm, and even better than reading any of the manhwa panels, the images of beomgyu fully engrained in your head, it’s fine, you can get off to it later.

You let him ride it out, cooing soft praises for his first time, calling him a good boy and saying that he did so well as he clings to you. You pull him in for another kiss, thinking he’d appreciate it but he can barely kiss you back, his body literally limp and boneless. He still doesn’t let go of your hand, bringing his other hand up so he can hold your other one too, quietly whimpering into your mouth.

“Well,” you murmur when you pull back, still perched on top of his convulsing frame. “Was that inspiration enough?”

“Uh huh…” Beomgyu pants raggedly, a far away look in his eyes, barely conscious.

So, perhaps there are real men like taekbae out there. Well, only one.

Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷🌷! It’s incredibly discouraging and disappointing when fics have such little reblogs. At least send an anon in the inbox if you don’t want to rb, don’t just like. Feedback is always appreciated it makes writers want to actually write more :)

A/n: yipeee. I hope you guys like this 😭 idk if it turned out the way people were expecting but ! I think this would be a good series where they fuck so beomgyu gets inspiration and ideas for his manhwa 😭 but I’m not gonna write it loll.

[heejamas]

1980s HORROR FILM

#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 exhales slow, voice lower now. “you’re doing good. keep going.”

you swallow hard. “fuck, i—”

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 🖤

[lucidwntrr]

최수빈 ─── ୨୧ WHEN DID YOU GET HOT ?

request gone fic !! ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ :

you can't hold back when you ask, "how come you didn't tell me that you were moving?" soobin pauses, his head slowly lifting up to gauge your facial expressions. "i mean, i know we weren't super close but we were science partners and i was a little hurt when i had to find out from the teacher that you left." your voice gets soft to show that you weren't angry at him, just curious.

"i-" soobin's had comes out to comfort you, but he stops himself and drops it onto the bed and grips onto the comforter instead.

૮₍˃̵֊ ˂̵ ₎ა ──── ୨ৎ content: smut MDNI , wc: 6.4k+

fem!reader x soobin, virgin!soobin, nerdy soobin, he blushes a bunch, making out, handjob, cum-tasting, he stutters a bunch, glasses!soobin, beomgyu and taehyun cameo!, kind of premature cumming, this is kind of long i'm so sorry !

note from luna: a request that i got carried away with and took me super long to write (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥) , i really hope you enjoy it nonetheless (@mymelodying)

as far as you knew, the last time you saw choi soobin was your senior year of high school. you occasionally talked in the one class you shared together, science. he was your lab partner and you would often have to do experiments and assignments with each other, maintaining an 'A' average throughout the year. in class, soobin often kept to himself and was typically hunched over his work or books. he never spoke too much and when he did, he would stumble over his words and pink would dust his cheeks while he avoids any and all eye contact with you.

when you got the chance, you would often glance at his belongings. you heard the talks about him outside of class, the whispers in the hallways about how "weird" soobin was. the way he watches so many animated shows/films was obsessive, always nose deep in recent manga, mumbling to himself about the characters and major plot points. they would talk about the way he dressed, draped in over-sized hoodies and sweats, his glasses that were just a tad bit large on his nose and often slid down the bridge. you were endeared when you would catch him pushing them back up, a small smile creeping onto your face.

one day in class you took notice to the little stickers that littered his folders and notebooks, also the plush keychain that hung from his backpack. you thought it was cute how he showed his interests in little ways like that, especially since he wasn't able to talk about them to these judgmental students in school. you never thought it was strange like the other students saw it to be. but to soobin, your wandering eyes must have felt that way. he snatched up his things with shaky hands and shoved them in his bag, his face burning red. before you could get a word out, he sped-walked out the classroom and down the hall.

you and soobin never got close, never had the chance to. aside from playing with chemicals and writing scientific equations on a piece of paper, you didn't get to talk that much. here and there you would gather a little information about him, but he would often shut himself up from going on and on about his interests or life. he kept it short, like he was drawing a line between the two of you. it pained you a bit that he felt like he had to hold himself back, you noticed the light in his eyes when you would ask him a question and the way it faded when he caught himself. his eyes shaky and gnawing on his bottom lip, changing the subject to science-related topics.

the day before soobin left, it was a friday and you managed to get a smile from him. it was a stupid joke you made while doing an experiment involving looking at germs. you mustered up the courage to lighten the tense mood since you've been working for an hour on the assignment, jabbing soobin in the side before he pressed his eyes into the scope.

"hey," he turns to you, his eyes immediately shifting when they locked with yours. he stares at a corner of your face, but you were used to it. just like you were used to the pink that spread across his face whenever you would converse with him. "why did the germ cross the microscope?"

he furrows his brow and chews on his bottom lip, "w-why?" he stutters.

you hold back a laugh as you complete the joke, "to get to the other slide." you couldn't hold back for long as you burst out with laughter at how dumb the joke was, it wasn't even that funny. yet, you couldn't help yourself. soobin's eyes widen at the sudden loud sound, his face flushing as he turns away while trying to stifle a laugh. he looks into the microscope in front of him, but you don't miss the small smile that comes onto his face. nor the little dimple that appears on his cheek.

you were the last to know about soobin and his family deciding to leave the city for one that was three hours away from yours, which meant he would be transferring high schools. you didn't have a chance to say goodbye or thank you for all his help during the class as he just stopped showing up. you were pretty worried, it wasn't like soobin to miss a day. let alone it being three in a row, your anxiety was starting to eat you up and you decided to ask the teacher about him.

"you didn't hear, soobin transferred last week. friday was his last day."

it shocked you, he never talked about leaving. granted, you weren't the closest to him but you thought with the small-talk you often made he would mention something like that. or even bring it up the day before he supposedly left, the day you saw him smile for the first time. before leaving the classroom, you took another glance at the seat next to yours that was empty with something heavy weighing on your heart.

after he moved, it took about a month before you got use to his absence. everyday you walked into class your eyes would immediately fly to the seat he once sat in. you hoped that you would find him sitting there with his disheveled black hair, his glasses that were perched on his little nose, his lips that would be pursed in concentration as he worked out a problem in his study book. you would deflate when he wasn't there, shuffling to your seat and plopping down with a sigh.

you eventually got a new lab partner, beomgyu was his name, and the two of you would come to be good friends. often finding yourself doing the same things you would with soobin, plus some. hanging out with the boy after class and talking to him about his interests. sometimes you'd find that same glint in beomgyu's eyes that you saw in soobin and get sad, shaking the feeling off with a small smile.

you would eventually forget about soobin in the following months leading up to graduation, maybe not completely though . even though you knew he wasn't there, he couldn't possibly be, your eyes still searched the sea of graduation caps hoping to find those glasses and flushed cheeks you grew fond of.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

you and beomgyu walk into your first chemistry class of the semester together, shoulder to shoulder, and laughing about some video that he sent to you this morning. the two of you ended up getting accepted into the same college after vowing to never separate post-graduation. you were happy to know one person for your first year, and even happier that it was your best friend beomgyu.

you take a seat in the third row of the classroom with a sigh, beomgyu following and plopping down next to you. you turn towards beomgyu with a blinding smile and he playfully shields his eyes, making you push him. before you could strike up a conversation about your excitement, the professor walks in along with some straggling students who didn't want to be marked late on the first day. she was a short and limber lady, with a high bun resting on her head and circular glasses that framed her face well. she looked like the kind of professor that enjoyed her job.

she shut the door behind the last student to enter, before making her way to her desk. she fumbles around with her many folders and laptop, pulling up a slide show. the room is mute of talking, the only sounds being the shuffling of students reaching into their backpacks for their computers and pencils, prepared to take any introductory notes. as she sets up, the door to the classroom creaks open and everyone's heads turn in the same direction.

a boy with wired-headphones plugged into his ears walked into the room. he was wearing a black tight-fitted shirt that hugged his sides, it was tucked into his jeans that fit his thighs perfectly, his dark hair was mussed but in a stylish way. he grimaces and his face flushes when he realizes the squeaking of the closing door was bringing unwarranted attention to him, dimples that looked a little familiar appeared on his cheeks.

"class starts at eight, young man." the professor says, grabbing the remote that controls the screen now that her slides were pulled up. he turns in her direction, popping the buds from his ears and wrapping them around his phone, his face seemed to turn even darker and he sucks in his bottom lip. you cock your head to the side, the more you stare at him and watch his actions, the more familiar the boy looks. distant memories that you can't quite catch float around in your head.

"s-sorry. it's not an excuse, but my alarm didn't go off." his voice was deep and smooth as he spoke, honesty laced in his tone as he apologized. all around you, the girls in the class started to whisper to their friends. presumably about his good looks, you would do the same with beomgyu if it weren't for you trying to wrack your brain trying to figure out why you think you've seen him before. he presses his lips together and bows his head awkwardly in apology. he starts to head for a seat, but he's stopped by the professor speaking again-

"i'll let it pass this time since it's the first day," she starts and he nods his head in acknowledgement, his grip tight on his bag-strap that was slung across his slim waist. "what's your name?" everyone tunes in, wanting to know the name of the handsome boy who would be in this class for the semester. he runs a hand through his hair, his eyes darting around the room and avoiding stares. "ah, c-choi soobin."

you freeze, your eyes widening at that name. choi soobin? like choi soobin that you went to high school with? choi soobin who suddenly upped and left one day? the same one who buried himself in over-sized clothing and his glasses that never sat on his nose right? that's the same guy who was standing in front of you, with fitted clothes, no glasses on his face, and a lot taller than what you remembered, that soobin?

your eyes follow him as he walks past you once the professor dismissed him to a seat that was a few rows behind you, you couldn't help it. you haven't heard that name in about a year and now he shows up again in the same college as you, in your science class? your eyes lock briefly when he goes by, his eyes immediately shifting away and his face going pink. you don't think he remembered you though, besides it's been a while and you also forgot about him until this moment.

all class, you could only think about the boy who you were semi-acquainted with in high school and how much he has changed. your body itched to turn around and catch a glance at him, figure out if it was actually the same boy you knew.

"you okay," beomgyu whispered to you, poking a finger into your side. you give him a nod before placing your face in your hand and gnawing on your bottom lip. you had to talk to him after class, right? you needed to know if he remembered you, thought about you even a little after he left.

you were lost in thought until the final minutes of class, the professor clapping her hands together sharply before clicking to the last slide. it was an announcement that she will be putting us in pairs, and we'll stay in that duo for the semester. you'll do labs, assignments, and presentations with your partner. it reminded you a lot of the class you took in high school.

"hopefully we're together." beomgyu whispers, crossing his fingers and you smile at him while also twining your fingers in hopes. we wait while professor starts calling out pairs, your heart beating fast. the both of you take a pause when beomgyu's name is called.

"choi beomgyu and-" he bites on his bottom lip and squeezes his eyes shut, grabbing onto your hand and holding it tightly in his. "kang taehyun." he deflates, throwing a pout at you and you caress his shoulder. he turns around and finds his partner who raised his hand. he gets up with his belongings and makes his way towards the boy and they immediately jump into conversation. you think he'll be alright and you shoot him a thumbs up when he looks your way with a soft smile.

you jump when your name is called next, snapping your head to the front of the room. hopefully whoever you get is nice and not someone who will slack off and make you do all the work, that's the last thing you want in a college-level chemistry class. "and choi soobin."

you eyes widen and your mouth drops open in shock. what are the odds that you and soobin would be in a science class together and be lab partners at that. it gave you a reason to talk to him again after some time, but you haven't thought about what you would say. how would you even bring up what you wanted to talk about?

when you turn around, soobin was already looking back at you. you couldn't quite read his facial expression, he looked a little surprised but also intrigued. he would shift his eyes away though, clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. you gathered your belongings and headed up the stairs to his row and taking the seat next to his.

you look at him from the corner of your eye, too scared to turn and look at him and just fidgeted with the pencil in your hand instead. you let the professor finish putting people in pairs, she tells the class to exchange info with your lab partners and get to know them as our first lab will be on thursday. there's about fifteen minutes of class left and she dismisses us to be able to converse.

slowly, you turn your head towards him. "hey,"

soobin jumps and rubs his hands anxiously over his thighs. he looks over at you and bows his head, before turning away again. he squeezes his eyes shut and says something under his breath you can't catch.

"uh, so… we should probably exchange numbers like the professor suggested since we're going to be together for a whole semester. and we might have to keep in contact with eachoth-" you started to ramble before soobin suddenly cut you off.

"did we go to high school together?" he asks, turning towards you. he quickly catches himself, his face burning and his eyes shifting away from your stare that felt too intense. he looks down at his lap, at his fumbling hands that were there. "ah sorry- i mean…m-more specifically did we have a science class together?" he mutters the last part.

you freeze, so he did remember you…"uh, yeah. we were lab partners back in high school." you answer his question while nodding your head.

there was the tiniest smile that came to his face, crooked and cute. "i thought so…" he mumbled more to himself. his hand comes up to his nose like he was going to push up his glasses, but his hand curls into a fist when he realizes they weren't there.

"what happened to your glasses?" you blurt out without thinking. soobin's drops his hand onto the table and his face turns a pretty shade of pink.

"my-my glasses? i, um stopped wearing them awhile ago. i wear con-contacts now." his hand scratches the back of his neck as he speaks and he clears his throat often the more he talks, like he was thinking of the next words to say as he said it.

"mmm," you hum in understatement. before you could ask another question, about why he left so suddenly without saying anything, it was the end of class. the professor would announce that while also telling us to pick up our homework for the day. a worksheet to get to know all about your lab partner, like we were in kindergarten again.

soobin packs up his belongings and you can't help but to notice the keychain that hung from his backpack, the same one from when we were in high school. you smile to yourself and soobin gets up, a quick and jerky movement that startles you a little.

"i-i'm gonna go now," he stiffly says, sliding behind you and starting for the stairs that leads to the door. you bite your lip, quickly getting up and packing your stuff to follow him. you can't let him get away that easily, not when you got the chance to finally see him again.

"wait-" you say, catching his hand that was on his phone and ready to unravel his headphones. he flinches away, snatching his hand back and leaving yours hanging mid-air. when you look at him, he was blushing, his eyes looking everywhere but at yours and his cheeks were puffed out.

"sorry i- i was just wondering if you wanted to get started on the homework?" you ask him, dropping your hand and clutching onto your tote bag. soobin taps the screen of his phone with his thumb to check the time.

he opens his mouth to speak but gets interrupted by someone slinging their arm over your shoulder and ruffling your hair. you knew it was beomgyu cause he was the only person that did that to you, the little punk.

"shall we grab some lunch, i'm starving~" he asks, pinching your cheek. he stops when he realizes that soobin is standing there, looking between the two of you with wide eyes. he particularly focused on beomgyu's arm that was around you, which striked you as odd.

beomgyu nods at him before shoving a hand out in front of soobin, "hi, i'm beomgyu! you must be soobin and this losers lab partner." you roll your eyes, shoving his arm off of you and making him pout. soobin tentatively takes his hand, shaking it almost robotically before letting go.

"so," beomgyu turns to you, bringing his face completely in your view. you notice the way soobin turns his head away, his face burning. "are we getting lunch or not?"

you lean back and gesture towards soobin, "actually, i was going to get started on the homework assignment with soobin." you smile at beomgyu who drops his obnoxiously and his eyes flicker towards the boy that was standing there shuffling on his feet. he looks back at you, wiggling his eyebrows.

you never talked to beomgyu about soobin, never felt a reason to. it felt better to keep those little memories you had to yourself, instead of loading all you grievance on someone you just met. so, to him it probably looked like you were looking for a hook-up.

"oh, that's cool! i'll just get lunch with taehyun and catch up with you later?" he taps your shoulder and gives you a shit-eating grin that makes you roll your eyes even harder than the first time. he skips away, smirking at you as he heads out the door to track down his new friend.

soobin looks at you, not for too long of course, before staring down to his feet or the ground beneath them you weren't too sure. he drums his fingers against his bookbag strap, the silence stretching on.

"uh, sorry about that…do you have any time to do the assignment right now?" you ask him.

soobin's head pops up and he seems to perk up a bit at the idea of you still wanting to hang out with him, "yeah down- i'm down!"

"we can go to my dorm, it's only a five minute walk from here. if that's okay with you of course!" you offer, pointing in the direction of your room. soobin blushes furiously, but nods his head in agreement. you smile, waving your hand and motioning for him to follow you.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

"me and beomgyu share this place, but he shouldn't be back for awhile. but you already knew that…"

soobin shucks off his shoes before looking around. it was a cozy and small dorm room that he can tell is properly lived in. plushies littered the couch, there were two mugs on the coffee table in front of it, he placed his shoes next to the others that were by the door. it smelt good too, like cinnamon and something else he couldn't name.

you watch as soobin scans the place, his head turning until it lands on you. he gets startled as if he forget that it was your place and that you were actually in it. you don't fight the giggle that bubbles up and comes out.

"we can go to my room, it's more comfortable." you smile at him and make your way down the hall and to the right where your room was, opposite of beomgyu's who was on the left. he follows you into the room and jumps when you shut the door.

you gesture towards the bed, "have a seat." he nods and rummages through his bag for the assignment, a clipboard, and a pencil to write with. he settles on the bed, but he doesn't move. he looks almost frozen as he sits there and you smile fondly at how shy he can truly be.

you sit next to him, climbing onto the bed and crossing your legs with the paper in your lap. soobin mirrors you, being sure to put a little bit of distance between the two of you as he does.

"i-i'm ready when you are." he says, scrunching his nose and pushing up imaginary glasses. your eyes linger on him a little longer than you intended, soobin's eyes shifting and his cheeks turning rosy as he clears his throat.

"right- um, first question is…what's your favorite thing to do?" you look up from the sheet for him to answer first.

"i would say m-my favorite thing to do is read or watch tv, it's what i do the most." he shrugs his shoulders while you write down his response.

"and what do you like to read and watch?"

"nothing much, just…what everyone else reads and watches." he answers, his hands fidgeting around his pencil.

"and what is everyone reading and watching?" you tease. soobin stutters over his words, his tongue felt tied as he tried to come up with a lie and think about what trending shows he's heard others talking about.

"i'm messing with you," you laugh, placing a comforting hand on his thigh. he tenses under you and you pull away, he immediately relaxes when you do. "but i did notice the jujutsu kaisen figure on your bag, do you like that show? it's anime, right?" soobin's eyes are wide when he looks at you, his mouth moving like a fish.

"you know about jujutsu kaisen? have you ever watched the show?" he sounded excited that someone recognized the figure, as if it wasn't one of the most popular ones out now. he had that same shine in his eyes that he did back in high school when he would talk about things like this.

you felt a little bad when you had to admit the truth though, "i've never watched it, but beomgyu always talks about it!" you try to make the situation a little better and give him a topic to bring up with beomgyu whenever he sees them again, maybe they can become friends too.

"oh…" he deflates, tapping his pencil against his paper.

"we could always watch it together, since we're going to be around each other the whole semester." you suggest to him.

"really? you would watch?"

"yeah," you answer honestly and watch with fondness as soobin smiles, sucking his lips into his mouth in an attempt to hide it. it reminds you of the day before he left, the same day you finally saw him smile.

you can't hold back when you ask, "how come you didn't tell me that you were moving?" soobin pauses, his head slowly lifting up to gauge your facial expressions and feeling the shift in the mood. "i mean, i know we weren't super close but we were science partners and i was a little hurt when i had to find out from the teacher that you left." your voice gets soft to show that you weren't angry at him, just curious.

"i-" soobin's hand comes out to comfort you, but he stops himself and drops it onto the bed and grips onto the comforter instead. "i wanted to say goodbye… i didn't even know we were moving until i got home that day." he mumbles with a small head shake.

"everything was already packed and they were loading up the u-haul truck. i hardly even had time to process it all and once i did i was in a new city surrounded by a bunch of new people. b-but believe me when i say i wanted to say goodbye at least…" and you do believe him. he sounded too sincere and his eyes reminded you of a sad puppy, his lower lip jutting out into a pout as he spoke.

he almost looked he wanted to cry and you couldn't have that, not over something so small. you were just curious as to why you never saw him again, you didn't mean to upset him in the process. you don't remember how or when but when you snap out of your thoughts, you're close to soobin. super close, with your hand pressed against the side of his warm face.

he was blinking at you wildly, his fingers gripped tight into your covers. you gasp, your eyes widening as you steal your hand away and pulling back. "sorry, i don't know why i just did that…"

"you-" soobin presses his lips together, furrowing his brows.

"i…?"

"you whis-whispered something,"

"what did i whisper?" you nervously ask.

he clears his throat, "you said that you missed me…"

you were taken aback, you didn't remember saying that but soobin said you did and he didn't have a reason to lie. did you miss him? when he left, you did think about him a lot. even after meeting beomgyu and graduating, there was little moments when he would pop into your mind and you would wonder how he was doing. if he was doing the same, thinking about you at that very moment.

you look at the boy who was so different from what you remembered. his muscular and toned body that was visible through his shirt, his legs that were a lot longer than before and encompassed by his jeans, his slender hand that held his pencil, his big and curious eyes that were no longer framed with glasses, his pretty and pink lips that were pouted so cutely. you wanted to lean in and kiss them-

your lips touch in a chaste kiss that lasts a second. when you pull back, soobin's eyes were squeezed shut and his lips were still protruded. you giggle, hiding your smile behind your hand and soobin's eyes crack open. he was blushing furiously and he had a sheepish look on his face.

"it's true, i did miss you…" you admit to him. you shove the classwork aside and crawl towards him. soobin's breath hitches when you start to come closer, his legs involuntary parting and allowing you to fill the spot between them.

you bring your faces close enough so that your breathes mingle between the little space there was. you slowly bring your hand up to his face again, your thumb rubbing under his eye. soobin's breath gets shaky as he lets your explore his face, gnawing on his bottom lip in nervousness.

you let your finger trace the bridge of his nose where his glasses used to be, "do you still keep your glasses around?" soobin brain was malfunctioning and he couldn't speak so he simply nods his head and points a trembling finger at his backpack that was on the floor. with a smile you hop off the bed to grab his glasses that were in a cute case before repositioning yourself to where you were.

you raise the glasses up to his face and gently slide them over his ears and up his nose. they were the same ones he had back then, except now they fit his adult features. they looked perfect on him, against the pink of his cheeks.

"so handsome," you mutter while continuing your evaluation of his face. letting your fingers trace the bow of his upper lip, soobin's stuttering breath making them moist. you look him in the eyes, "can i kiss you, properly?"

soobin swallows, his eyes sliding to the wall behind you. "i-i don't know how… i've never kissed somebody before." he whispers.

you were slightly taken aback, "really?" it was a little hard to believe that someone that looked like this has never kissed anyone. he shakes his head slowly, his nervous eyes finding their way back to yours. it was cute, the contrast between his striking visuals and his timid actions. and the fact that you were the first person to kiss him, be close to him like this, defile him was kind of turning you on.

with a gentle touch, you tap his lips. "just keep these open and follow my lead, hm?" soobin nods again, licking his lips and parting them, shutting his eyes as you move in close to him. you tilt your head to slot them together with his and soobin's fingers grip onto the blanket.

you take it slow and let soobin get the feel of making out, he's clumsy at the start of course. he can't quite find the right rhythm and sometimes he'll press too hard. he pulled back a little at one point and whispered against your mouth, "is that right?" you would grab him by the chin gently and hum in agreement before pulling him in again.

this time soobin melts into the kiss, finding the pacing easier this time as you capture his lips. wrapping an arm around his neck to keep him in place, sliding your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and making soobin shiver. his whole body squirms as your nails scratch his scalp gently, a tiny whimper slipping into the kiss.

the sound sent tingles through your body and you wanted- no needed to hear it again. you grip the hairs and tug them just a little, just enough to tilt his back and deepen the kiss.

"ngh," soobin moans into your mouth, his pretty lips opening wider. you place a hand on his chest, pushing him back onto his elbows. you slip your tongue into his mouth and soobin allowed you to explore his mouth, moving your tongue against his. he finds himself liking the way it feels, his body heating up, his pulse racing, and there was another sensation happening…between his legs.

he can feel the way your hand slides down his chest and tense tummy, heading right for the spot that was throbbing. his breath hitching when your hand ghosts over his crotch, your hand warm against the prominent bulge. his hips twitch up into your hand and he moans at the contact, the friction was delicious and he wanted to chase it.

it wasn't until you started rubbing at the same time as he grinds into against your hand. he found that the longer you did it, the better it felt and there was something coiling in his belly that made his breathing uneven and his body tingle. it scared him a little and he would pull away from the kiss, pushing your hand off of him, "wa-waitwaitwait-" he voice was breathy and his face was flushed, lips red and swollen.

"what's wrong?" you ask with concern, your hand that was just making him feel good was now rubbing his shoulder in comfort. soobin's skin was tingling with every graze, but it was bearable and not as intense as whatever just happened.

he ducks his head in embarrassment, his voice low when he speaks. "i-it's just that was my first time feeling something… like that."

"did you not like it? we can stop if you don't wan-"

"no!" he shouts, his head popping up and his eyes wild. "n-no it's not that i didn't like it…in fact i think i liked it too much. there was this feeling, right here." he points at his lower abdomen, right above his cock that was still hard and twitching in the constraints of his jeans.

"it was really intense and overwhelming, it scared me a little. it was too much, too fast," his speech is fast, his face burning all the while. you giggle a little and let your hand drop back down to his hard-on. soobin jerks, his legs twitching at your sides and lets out a breathy moan as his eyes flutter.

"what you were experiencing was getting close to having an orgasm. you've never touched yourself before?"

soobin's body felt like it was on fire, "no, never…"

"well," you lean into his neck, letting your breath ghost against the sensitive skin. soobin swallows when you trail your lips along the side. "would you like me to be the first to touch you there?" he moans while nodding his head, giving you the consent you needed to hear.

you unbuckle the belt that was around his slim waist, unzipping the zipper and sliding your hand into his pants. soobin watches with heady eyes, blinking slowly as if he didn't want to miss anything. you pull his cock from his pants, the tip was glistening with precum and you press a finger into the pool. you bring your finger to your mouth, lapping at the liquid.

"w-what are you doing, why would you eat…that?" soobin stammers, but his eyes were glossy as he watched you lick up his precum. it made his cock twitch between the two of you.

"it's sweet," you simply reply. "wanna try some?"

soobin tentatively nods, one small motion of his head and you kiss him. immediately, you push your tongue into his mouth while wrapping your hand around him and lubing him up with his own precum.

"uhn," soobin moans, his hips slowly raising up into your fist and his hand comes up to squeeze your arm tightly. it feels so good, he feels so good that he can't even keep up with the kiss. his mouth going slack as he continously moans and whines.

the air between the two of you is humid, soobin's glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose from the sweat building there. his hazy eyes looking at you through his almost fogged lenses, letting out an assortment of needy sounds.

you start to jerk him earnestly, letting your hand go up and down his cock at a quick and steady pace. drinking up all of the whimpers and pants that soobin feeds you. he leaks profusely over your first, a tell-tale sign that this was in fact his first time being touched.

soobin couldn't think, his brain was clouded and his skin was prickling with pleasure. he couldn't control his hips that kept thrusting up, chasing after that intoxicating feeling of your hand on him.

"i-" he gasps when he feels that coil in his tummy again, coming at him quicker than the first time. he doesn't think he can stop it this time though, his body tensing as the pleasure ramps up and his orgasm builds.

"you?"

"i don't think i can hold back -" he choked on his words, shaking his head. his eyes were shiny like he could cry at an moment from feeling so good. you let your hand graze his tip briefly and that seems to be soobin's breaking point.

"i'm- i'm gonna cum," he breaths, his eyes rolling back and his hips kicking upwards in one final thrust. his body twitches, a long and high-pitched moan of your name flowing from his mouth as he comes in your hand.

he tosses his head back, his one hand that was in the sheets so tight that his knuckles were white and his other hand that was on your shoulder was shaking. he felt like he could see white as he came, he felt light and dizzy as multiple spurts of warm cum landed on his shirt and jeans.

you stroke him while he comes down, his breathing heavy and his bottom lip was now sucked into his mouth as he tried to regulate himself. "wow," you smirk, admiring the amount of cum that landed on his clothes. soobin gets shy, his face burning as he turns his head away.

"i'm sorry - i didn't mean to cum so quickly…" he apologizes.

"you don't have to apologize for that." you reassure him, sticking a hand into his mussed hair before reaching down to push his glasses back up his nose and making him crinkle it cutely.

"it-it's embarrassing… cumming just from you touching me." he mumbles, his eyes downcast in shame.

"not embarrassing at all, it's hot." you lift his head up and make sure he's looking into your eyes, letting him know you were telling the truth. he swallows, his throat bobbing and he nods his head.

you laugh, letting his face go and grabbing some tissues from the bedside table. "but if you came that fast just from a handjob, i don't think you would've fared if we went all the way."

soobin's eyes go wide, whimpering when the soft tissue touches his sensitive cock. "i-i… i could've lasted longer!" he counters, a little frown on his face as he said it. you tuck him back into his boxers and zip his pants up.

"really?" you raise an eyebrow, tossing the dirty tissue aside and climbing into his lap. you settle down, pressed directly against soobin's sore cock and moving your hips a little. soobin moans, his hands coming to your waist while nodding his head.

"well, we have a whole semester to figure that out now don't we?" you smirk, as you hop of his lap and start to head out of the room. soobin watches with a furious blush on his face as you go.

"w-wait, my pants!" he calls out, leaping off the bed to remind you off his cum-stained pants he was wearing. he pauses though, looking down and groaning. he was rock hard again. "dammit," he mumbles while shoving a hand between his legs.

how was he supposed to survive chemistry like this?

© lucidwntrr est. 2025 - please do not steal, repost, or copy !