── .✦ pairings: Yeon Sieun. Ahn Suho. Oh Beomseok. Park Humin. Go Hyuntak. Kang Wooyoung. Geum Seongje. Na Baekjin. Baek Dongha. Do Seongmok. Jeon Yeongbin. Yeongi x gn!reader
contains. fluff. whc characters showing possessiveness when they get jealous. rude!Gotak. everyone else is sweet (I have one sided beef with him for a while — idk why) wuhluhwuh
warnings. none wc. 1.9k
note. we are back on track. thanks to everyone for 1.5k!! let’s see if I still got it
YEON SIEUN
likes having you sit on his desk when you’re talking to someone
“You totally did cheat, though.”, you half-heartedly accused your class-mate, a little envious to see him achieve a higher grade than you.
He just shook his head as he explained to you one more time how hard he’d been studying.
Sieun was characteristically quiet behind you, just the faint shuffle of papers gaining your attention. You whirled around to see the space he’s made for you by swiping all his workbooks to the side so you could sit.
You pointed him a look but he kept his head down. With a light chuckle, you planted your palms on the wood and heaved yourself up to sit, legs bouncing in the air. “It makes sense that Sieun gets better grades cause he’s smarter than all of us together, but you on the other hand..”, you trailed, glimpsing at your boyfriend to see a subtle lift in the corner of his lips as he continued rehearsing his vocabulary.
AHN SUHO
arm around your shoulder
You were casually chatting up a guy from your class, asking him for details about his sneakers because Suho’s birthday was coming up and you thought that the shoes would be a nice fit on him.
“It’d be cool if you could just send me the link.”, you suggested, jumping as a heavy arm ranked around your shoulders.
“What are we talking about?” Your boyfriend’s voice sounded casual, yet his demeanour was everything but, the act itself an obvious display of belonging. “Nothing.”, you just quipped, motioning with your head for the classmate to dip.
He obliged, muttering a quick goodbye, and instantly Suho’s grip around you loosened, the tick in his jaw still very evident to you.
OH BEOMSEOK
holds your hand, fidgets with your ring
Your head rested casually on Beomseok’s shoulder, eyes fixed on Yeongbin, half listening to a story you’ve heard before. His gaze kept snapping towards you while he was talking, adding substitute to the tale, hands motioning.
Beomseok was following his friend’s eyes, the hint of a glare sparkling in his own as he dropped his hand to lie next to yours, casually grabbing it before interlacing his fingers with yours. „You okay?“, you asked him in a whisper, but he just hummed.
A light tickle against your middle finger had you glimpse down, a smile tugging on your lips as you watched him roll your ring between his fingers.
PARK HUMIN (BAKU)
back hug
The evening had just set, light gusts of wind tugging on your clothes as you threw another ball, biting your lip in concentration. You held your breath as the basketball bounced against the basket’s board, swirling one round against the rim before dipping right in, the net carefully guiding the rubber ball back to the ground.
A cheer erupted from around you, your friends impressed by your first score. You jumped in excitement. Gotak was the first to close the distance, giving you a high five as he grinned down on you.
Baku, on the other hand, engulfed you in a hug, both arms draped around your front as he pressed your back into his chest.
Your heart skipped a beat at that, the embrace pushing the air out your lungs.
GO HYUNTAK (GOTAK)
drapes his jacket around your shoulders
You checked your phone for a new message, but there was still none from your boyfriend. You sighed, leaning back on your chair.
The sun had dipped low but the heat still radiated off it, gleamy rays of light swathing you in. You had agreed to meet up at this convenience store but it looked like Gotak was running late, so you rose from the chair and padded back into the store.
When Gotak had finally arrived, seemingly a little out of breath — hinting that he had run to get there faster, you were too indulged in your conversation with the clerk to notice his arrival. And you were laughing.
Gotak stepped up to you with his jaw clenched, startling you as he tossed his jacket over your shoulders. Your head snapped back to him at once, smile faltering as you took in his expression.
“I’m not exactly cold.”, you let him know, tugging on the polyester as you tried to pull it off, but Gotak wasn’t having that, pulling it tighter around your body as he placed a hand on your lower back.
“I didn’t exactly ask.”
KANG WOOYOUNG
got you a necklace with his initials on it
Wooyoung‘s gaze was burning holes into your skin, but you refused to look over to him, a smile tugging on your lips.
The guy in front of you was on an even level with you since you were sitting on the kitchen table, originally waiting for your friend to return from the bathroom, so your group could head to the club (cause house parties are just pre-game).
It took less than two minutes for a guy to approach but less than one for your boyfriend to come up. The guy in front of you startled as Wooyoung had appeared, yet he refused to leave.
The skin on your neck tingled where his fingers brushed your hair to the side, the fluoroscent light catching the metal acronym in a gleamy glow. KW.
The other guy‘s expression dropped as he put two and two together, spinning on his heels to approach someone else.
„You‘re so lame.“, you cooed, affection laced in every word.
GEUM SEONGJE
pulls you to sit on his lap
Ever since Seongje had lent you his Wii-U, he hadn’t seen the device anywhere besides your hands.
You couldn’t help it, the games were too good and the endless opportunities to play a 1v1 was just appealing to your competetive spirit.
You were enthralled in your game and Seongje barely paid attention to you, just pointing you a quick glance as he saw you standing right before the seat instead of just sitting down. (It was getting too heated — you had to stand to win).
As you let out a laugh, throwing your head back slightly, you re-gained his attention. He ripped his headphones down to his neck as he inspected your screen. He had assumed your airpods were due to listening to the soundtrack, not for chatting.
“Who-“, he cut himself — you couldn’t hear him either way.
He huffed, wrapping both hands around your hips to pull you down on his lap. You barely reacted, eyes locked on the tiny screen. He wrapped his hands around you and brought his ear next to you, trying to filter out a voice from the spill of soundtrack spilling out the buds. He couldn’t really make out any voices, except-. There. A laugh. Rich and loud. That one friend of yours.
He clicked his tongue, leaning back in his seat before returning his attention back on the game he forgot to pause.
NA BAEKJIN
death stare at whoever you’re talking with + physical barrier
You were scrolling Tiktok on Baekjin’s couch, casually sprawled onto the leather as you swiped to the next video, unwitting to the volume that was pulsing out of the speaker.
Baekjin fixed you with a stare, but merely shook his head as you kept scrolling, oblivious. Then the door snapped open and a few guys you couldn’t place spilled inside. Like it was your cue, you rose from your position and padded over to your boyfriend, putting your body behind his chair like it was shielding you from the encounter.
Whatever the guys wanted, was a matter of a few minutes and as soon as they left, you tucked your chin on Baekjin’s shoulder, placing a quick peck on the side of his face.
Back in the days he would jut his chin towards you or wave you over but over the time you had learned to distance yourself from anyone who came through that door.
With a stretch of your limbs you rose back up, heading for your usual spot, but your boyfriend grabbed your wrist to halt you in your step.
“Lower the volume.”
BAEK DONGHA
hand on your waist
There was a new food truck in your city, offering stuff you hadn’t seen outside your phone before, so naturally you had to try.
Dongha was on the phone beside you, discussing some union-related business, as it was your turn. You stepped up, placing your order and when you looked up and met a familiar face, you laughed. The vendor was a classmate of yours.
Dongha’s head whirled towards you, eyebrows knitted as his gaze darted from you to the uniformed guy.
Without further ado, he ranked one arm around you, hand digging into your hip as he continued the phone call, smiling proudly hence you didn’t even react to the possessive act.
DO SEONGMOK
hand in your front pocket
“He’ll be here any minute.”, you assured your boyfriend, earning a silent nod. Just as you lowered your arm, your phone’s screen lit up with a new notification.
“He’s here.” Your eyes were scanning the place, craning your neck to look past people, hoping to catch a glimpse of your friend.
A tap on your shoulder had you whirl into the opposite direction, lips split into a smile as you recognised the familiar face. He held his notebook to you with his arm stretched, but your fingers merely graced the paperback before a big hand slipped into the front pocket of your jeans.
Seongmok pulled you back against his chest with a light grab on your thigh, his fingers raising goosebumps across the same path as the cold seeped through the thin layer of cotton that seperated the denim from your skin.
He used his free hand to grab the notebook off your friend, nodding once as he held it to your chest for you to grab.
JEON YEONGBIN
head on your lap
Yeongbin was half asleep when you stumbled into your own room, doing a double take as you caught him sprawled on your sheets, face buried in your pillow.
„I can‘t give you attention, right now.“, you sneered. „I have a group project.“ Yeongbin groaned at that, lifting his head just enough to look at you.
„Invite them over.“
You didn‘t really see any reason as to not do it, preferring your home to any cafe.
Your project partners arrived shortly after and you immediately got to work. Yeongbin causally greeted the people he knew from shared classes or the hallway, but found himself irritated every time someone hogged your attention. In his mind they were feigning needing something.
You were sitting cross legged on your bed while the rest of the group had occupied a spot on your carpet, only one of them bold enough to sit in your chair, spinning around every once in a while.
Yeongbin was laying behind you, casually coming up behind you until he could nestle on your side, dipping his head to rest it on your thigh. Your hand found his hair immediately, fingers intertwined in his hair as you started to caress his scalp.
This way you wouldn’t stand up again.
YEONGI
making you crowd her space
You were sitting on your desk, casually chatting up a classmate when Yeongi returned from the bathroom. Her eyes narrowed immediately at the sight of you talking to someone else than her.
She stalked over to you in a few strides, coming to a halt right before you, but as your friend glanced at her in a confused matter, you kept taking, wrapping you legs around her torso as you pulled her back against your chest, tucking your chin on her shoulder.
The bell announced the end of the break and you all moved from your clusters to get back at your assigned seats. As you loosened your grip on your girlfriend, she turned to you with a scowl.
“Don’t talk to other people.”
“Leave me alone.”, you pressed through a chuckle, lightly kicking at her before sliding down the desk and heading for your chair.
A/N: Comissioned by @tojii11 ... as always I'm not responsible for the media you consume.
Since you've known him as of late, lying has become almost as voluntary as breathing. It should scare you, how fluidly a lie slips past the confines of your lips. Making you more and unrecognizable to even your own self.
"I'm tutoring late tonight."
"I’m studying at the library,"
“I'm having dinner with a friend.”
You didn't have many of those. Had your parents been the caring type they might have known that friends were a luxury you could not afford.
Still, it bothered you that you were making excuses for him. You were helping yourself get extorted everytime you stole for him and everytime you didn't let a living soul know.
The first few times were as difficult as it ever got. But the more you were forced to work for him, the more he corrupted you-the more that infection spread until it became all you were.
"What do you need that much money for anyway?" You squeeze your phone tighter with one hand while the other sits in your blazer pocket. You maintain a calm, controlled gait as you walk out of the school gates, surrounded by your peers dressed in the same uniform walking in clumps of groups- little ecosystems that they formed to help manage their anxieties. You wish you had their problems: Boys. Makeup. Parties.
You wish you had your own little ecosystem. A group who'd be more concerned with strengthening your mental health, not deteriorating it.
"You think school trips to Bali are gonna be cheap?" It was always easier to lie to her over the phone or through text. There was something biting in your mother's eyes that you couldn't always face. Something that would eat you alive if she found out you've been working for the kind of people you're working for.
"Backtrack on the attitude," her words snipe you through the receiver like barbed wire, "It's just strange that they're organizing a field trip in the height of your assignments like this..."
"It's an incentive I guess. They're telling us about it now for extra motivation to see this exam season through.." lies lies and more lies. Your mouth is full of them.
"I don't know if I want you to be thinking about a trip to Bali during all this work... have you been improving?"
There was no improvement with her. Only perfection. She tried your whole life to wipe you squeaky clean until you were spotless. If only she knew that over the past year you've acquired a spot almost impossible to scrub away. He's irremovable. Or at least you thought he was...
"When did you say your field trip was? Perhaps your father and I will tag along, make a family vacation out of it. We never see you anymore because you're always studying and Bali is lovely all-year round-" while your mother talks, your heart sinks and panic festers. You try to focus your steps on making it across the road, down a path you've walked all year.
"Mom, please don't be embarrassing."
"How am I being embarrassing?"
"You'll be the only parent there." Above you, the afternoon sun sits snugly against the horizon, guiding you down a decrepit lane. Stray cats and empty soju bottles litter the street the farther you walk from the safety of the school grounds. You're getting closer and you needed her to send the money.
"It's my money. I can do with it as I please."
You scramble your brain, searching furiously for a lifeline.
"It's just..." More and more lies, "This trip is actually just Geo-camp. Our teachers planned a few cave explorations. We're gonna check out the different stalactites and stalagmites-your presence might hinder my concentration-"
In the distance, the warehouse looms and your fist in your blazer pocket begins to coil.
"Why didn't you say so in the first place instead of wasting my time?” Your mother tsks, “I've sent the money to your account."
"Thank you ma'am..."
The call ends abruptly, void of any warmth. Void of any love. You pull your phone away from your ear and your nerves settle as you see the money reflecting. You suddenly feel bigger than this warehouse- bigger than life itself- like you're armed and ready to take on anything this rabid dog might throw at you.
You tilt your head back to watch the clouds disappear behind the iron roof and you steal your nerves. Word on the street is that this place once belonged to Baek Jin before his untimely disappearance. Until, naturally, a wolf came in and marked it as his own...
The nearer you get to the slightly opened door, the clearer the sound becomes: You hear the sound of a broken man groaning and your body has a visceral reaction. By now you recognize the sound of a fist slamming against human flesh and bone. You know what that sounds like and it haunts you through those quiet moments at night when it was just you and your memories. You fight the urge to stop walking, something in you tugging and begging to just walk away. It's either this or remain a slave for the rest of your foreseeable future.
That thought is enough to have you sucking in one final breath of air before waltzing into the warehouse. It's dark, the air damp and stuffy with little to no circulation. Despite the location, the interior is somewhat tidy and were it not for the man kneeling and bleeding on the floor, you might have thought the place fitting for any dignified bachelor.
“I didn't expect to see you today,” Seongje addresses you the moment you step in. His fist is paused in mid air and it's pulled back as if you'd just saved the man on the floor from experiencing one final blow.
He smiles at you, as if he didn't have blood on his knuckles. As if he didn't have a man on his knees, pleading for his life. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” Seongje asks, before digging his fingers into the boys scalp. You hide your trembling hands in the pockets of your blazer and you appear as unaffected as you possibly can when Seongje tilts the man's face to look up at you. “This is Eungmin. He's very cute, very small.” Seongje smiles. “Eungmin is getting beat unconscious because he's been stealing some of my money for himself, isn't that right, Eungmin-a?”
The man’s left ise completely disappeared under a swollen mass of flesh. His skin is broken in several places- all is red and yet he still tries… “P-please-” his words are slurred. You can tell he's getting closer and closer to blacking out. His brain can't comprehend the words leaving his mouth and it's far too painful to watch. “My grandfather's sick and- I needed the money-”
“Sob, sob, sob, stories, Eungmin-a,” Seongje lets go of the man's head before tucking his hands into his pockets. Eungmin sways from side to side as Seongje rounds his bruised and battered body, tsking lightly like a scolding parent.
Before you're made witness to any more bloodshed, possibly even a murder, you grab your phone out of blazer pocket and with trembling hands you press a few buttons on your screen.
Seongje's phone buzzes and he pulls it out of his pockets. He taps away at the device with bloodied fingers, his orange windbreaker stained with the same blood and for a moment, all is quiet.
Seongje stares blankly at his screen.
“What's this?” He asks without looking up.
Something in you tells you that you have the upper hand. Power has shifted, even minutely and it gives you the courage to reply back, “It's an incentive.”
Seongje's dark eyes finally flit up to you and you're arrested by that wolfish grin. “Big words.” He smirks. “You want a promotion or something?”
You ready your voice. “Actually, Seongje, I’m looking for a way out.”
More silence but this time, it's fucking suffocating. Even the man on the floor, the man who's experienced the very worst of Seongje's wrath has his mouth slightly open from shock.
“I never want to steal for you again. I never want to do anything for you again.” You find your voice in the rubble of your pain and all your anxieties that have gone unnoticed by the adults around you. “I never wanna see you again.”
He nods slowly. “I hear you.” Seongje's voice is calm. So calm it births a sliver of hope inside you: Maybe he'll just accept the money and you might actually be free. You could go back to being a girl forgotten by the rest of the world but this time, it'd be on your own terms. You'd love to be invisible again. Invisible girls don't get extorted like this.
“It's just… I'm really sensitive-”
The very moment those words leave his mouth, the moment a glimmer of a smile flits onto your lips, Seongje delivers a bone-cracking punch to the man's jaw.
You gasp and cup your mouth with both hands. Shocked.
The man slumps over, face hitting the floor. Knocked out cold.
“This is interesting.” Seongje says but you can't look away at the man laying on the ground. His body twitches periodically until there's barely any movement at all. Were you looking at someone passed out or were you staring at a corpse?
Soengje doesn't care about either outcome because he's already lighting a cigarette, standing as if pondering something else entirely.
“Where'd you get this money from?”
“D-Does-” you swallow thickly, “-it matter?”
He nods his head slightly before sticking the cigarette on the tip of his lips, “I could buy a million cig packs with this. The good kind too,” he chuckles, “Fuck, I could buy a fucking factory-”
“It's not that much-”
“Are you rich?” He asks suddenly, ramping up your nerves as he tucks his hands in his pockets to stalk closer towards you. “Have I been extorting a princess this whole time and I didn't know it?” You make your body an iron rod- your face cold. Something like him can't sense discomfort or he'll play with it.
“Not rich,” you say, “Just desperate…”
His feet stop directly in front of you and you keep your gaze there. Not daring to look up at him until he brings his own index finger under your chin, tilting it up.
“I like that word… Desperate.” He blows out a plume of smoke but not in your face. The small, gentlemanly act is almost laughable.
“Seongje, at this rate I'll be working for you for the rest of my life-”
“The rest of your life…” he nods slowly, looking away in a pensive manner before looking back at you, “That sounds fun, doesn't it?”
“Seongje- please just accept the money…”
“Are you calling me poor?”
“That's not what I'm saying at all and honestly, I feel like you know that's not what I'm saying-” your brows are furrowed, voice rising.
“So I'm delusional then?” He asks with a smile.
“Why do you get off on making yourself a victi-” his hand contracts around your throat and it tightens.
“Lemme stop you from saying what you wanna say because you really won't like the outcome.”
He squeezes one more time in warning before letting you go
“Why would I let you go? You're so perfect for me. We work well together.”
“Seongje, Please-”
“Shh… shh… shh…” he lets the cigarette hang off the side of his mouth before cupping both of your cheeks with both hands. He pushes back a stray braid and you tremble under the weight of not only his hands, but his gaze. His eyes are two endlessly cold voids. You don't wonder what's behind those eyes because you bet there's nothing there.
So focused, you've become, with Seongje's eyes, you barely notice his hand slithering down your neck. He feels you, touches you like he's just discovered something new…
“You've just made me more money than any of these useless scumbags ever have…” He stands closer and you watch as he opens his mouth to let the cigarette fall to the floor. You hear his foot stomp on it but your eyes are hazy with tears.
“I pride myself on being a good businessman… Letting you go?” He tsks, “That's not very good business.”
“Please, Seongje-”
“I do believe in rewards though so…” he lets his hand roam lower and lower. On its way down, he squeezes you tit through your shirt, causing a small gasp to slip through.
“Is it okay?” He asks in a low voice, “That im touching you like this?”
He waits patiently for a response that never comes. Truth is, you're completely and utterly overwhelmed. Caught in a web of feeling good and fucking terrible.
A tear falls.
“Shh,” he pats down your hair while all too slyly inching his hand up your skirt. “Seongje will make you feel better-”
You could tell him to stop, but your mind is clouded with all sorts of contradictions. You can't lie some more and say you don't find him even a little bit attractive. Isn't it fucking terrible how that works? This man has tormented you and yet-
“You're so wet, Princess,” you open your legs wider, only flinching when his fingers rub against your clothed cunt. You don't have the energy to look up at him, but you notice the visceral reaction his body is having from all this.
Over his shoulder, you notice the bloodied man unconscious on the floor.
“You just became wetter-” he whispers into your ear before cursing ever so lightly as his finger pushes aside your panties. You notice his movements becoming less controlled, far more hungry and you begin to pull away.
“Say it.” He urges, before fisting your neck in one tight grip. “I need you to say it.”
In a moment that feels unreal, Seongje pushes you backwards, forcing your feet into motion until he has you firmly pressed against a wall. “Say we work well together- tell me-”
You can't very well say much of anything because he's already sinking his index and middle finger into your cunt. Your mouth flies open and you're caught in a silent cry.
“Fuck- Look at how well we work together…” he says, bringing his fingers up to the light. He watches your slick coat, his fingers and something in you coils with disgust and immense pleasure.
His eyes immediately snap to you the second a small moan croaks out.
“F-Fuck-” you gulp in all the air you possibly can when his grip around your throat loosens. There's absolutely no space between you as he crowds you against the wall, staring down at you with the bad fluorescents reflecting against his glasses.
“You don't get to do that… You don't quit on me. I quit on you.” He's forcing his hand between your legs, this time he fucks you properly. Your cunt clenches around his fingers and a tear falls.
“Say sorry.” He taunts with another manic smile flitting across his face, “I want you to take my fingers and tell me how sorry you are-”
“F-Fuck Seongje-” your hips snap awards and you stare up at him with watery eyes- watery eyes that havr his cocktail straining against his pants. He brings you in close by the nape of your neck while he forces you down until your clit meets the palm of his hand.
“You keep looking at me like that and I'm gonna cum. And I hate cumming first.”
“Shit…” your eyes roll to the back of your head as you force yourself to grind down on his fingers. His hand around your throat is the only thing keeping you somewhat upright. You've slipped into that mental soace where you'll embarrass yourself to achieve orgasm. You needed this.
And him.
“What a greedy slut, huh? Tell me you're done with me. I want you to say it again-”
You can't say much of anything because you grab ahold of his wrist, keeping his fingers inside you as your orgasm crests and breaks.
You're screaming wildly, devoid of all rational thought, unprepared by the fact that a bleeding man still lays forgotten on the cold floor. All you feel is him. Jts all him and its suffocating.
You've quite literally found yourself in the clutches of a sadist and he's guiding You gently through your orgasm… patting your head down lightly like you were a delicate baby bird.
synopsis: seongje turning into a whining pathetic masochist after his girl slaps him in an argument. lol.
cw: MDNI, aged up obviously, slapping, spitting, choking, biting, handjob, thigh riding, overstimulation, masochism, sadism, seongje crying lowkey, pet names
you wanted to see him like this. it was rare but the rarity of it was what got you going; seeing seongje below you, whimpering like a pathetic dog. you were in complete control and there was nothing more you enjoyed than abusing it.
after an aggravating argument with the poor guy under you, you lost your composure, ready to walk out of the door until seongje grabbed your wrists, dragging you back into his room. his domineering presence, threatening and intimidating, pushing you against a wall. in times like these, you felt helpless. you hated how he towered over you with that malicious glint in his eyes, teasing at you, pointing a finger at you with that shit-eating cheshire grin on his face. the smell of cigarettes clawed at your throat, punching you in the lungs. and that’s all seongje needed to have you cornered and submit to him.
but today, today was not the day. today he failed to do that. today you were the one to push at his chest until you cornered him into a wall and when he tried to stop your one hand, you used the other to slap his face. you didn’t mean to be violent nor did you mean to hurt him. you were just overwhelmed with the heat in the room and your anger and just him.
it was just one painful slap.
that one painful slap turned something in your boyfriend. something dark. something dangerous. as if he were possessed by a demon, his head slapped to the side, he laughed, adams’s apple bobbing and shoulders shaking. when he turned to you, your stomach churned in fear and anticipation— a sadistic coil. you were enjoying it. so was he.
“did you just slap me, sweetheart?” he raised a brow, that same snarky glint in his eyes.
“i did.” you breathed, staggering a little back from him seeing the maniacal, livid look in his eyes that could devastate a whole audience.
“my baby girl just hit me.” he stated to himself.
his eyes dead on you. the shift in atmosphere weighed down on you. it was hot and fuzzy and you couldn’t ignore the desire and need in your stomach from the way he gazed at you. seongje tilted his head back with a airy chuckle before coming to an abrupt stop. another look at your eyes and then at your lips.
“do it again.” he ordered, “slap me.”
“w-what?” you wavered, unsure of what just came out of your boyfriend’s mouth.
with another step back you watched him pull himself off against the wall to lunge at you. no second to breathe or grasp onto what just happened, seongje was onto you. he bit your bottom lip with a low groan. he glided his tongue over the bite before smacking another kiss to your parted mouth. it was more a kiss to your teeth than it was to your lips that were slightly trembling from the shock. he pulled away, breathless and red, sweat forming on his temple. a swift slide of his fingers and his glasses were off and thrown onto the night stand.
“don’t make me ask again, y/n.” he purred, his breath tickling your cheeks, “slap me.”
it took you a minute to register it all and you came to the realization that he’d probably do anything to get slapped in the face by his pretty girlfriend right now and you’d take advantage of that. take advantage of him. work him dry.
“what if i said no?” you asked, biting your bottom lip gentler than seongje had.
seongje tilted his head to the side in amusement, a low chuckle barreling in his chest, the fluorescent light revealed the red mark from your palm on his chisled face. his jaw was taut. that hunger in his eyes only raging by the second. every breath he took came out shallow as if he were holding himself back. you jutted your jaw out in false confidence, wanting to tease him more; get on his nerves until he broke.
“geum seongje. if you want me to slap you get on the bed.” you demanded with a light nudge on his shoulder.
you stood face-to-face with him with a smirk threatening to creep up your face. you enjoyed the slight, barely noticeable surprise in his face. it turned you on.
“don’t make me ask again, seongje.” you mocked him, “get on the bed.”
“okay. whatever you say, darling.” he complied with a nod and a smirk.
once he was on the edge of the bed, you swiftly straddled his laps, pushing him in the shoulders until he fell flat on his back with a low cuss. he raised a brow in question, amused, watching you crawl over him. your hair falling over his face as you bit his earlobe, a low teasing moan escaping your lips. by now, you could feel his hard-on pressing the side of your inner thigh through his sweatpants. you used your knees to push it down on his cock, earning a low groan.
“what do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, snaking his hands over your waist to stop you but you pinch him away earning another pained groan.
“you wanted this. so, take it.” you spoke through gritted teeth, grabbing his hard on with your hand “you’re so hard. just by this? you’re pathetic.”
“fuck— are you—“ you undo the strings in his sweat pants, pulling it down with his boxers, springing his twitching cock free.
pre-cum dropped from his tip, causing you to giggle. you sat between his thigh, lightly rubbing your clothed clit against it.
thwack.
you spit on your hands, making a lubricant to use to rub on his hot cock. your strokes are slow and calculated, your fists balling on his cock as you pumped agonizingly low. seongje’s brows furrowed in frustration wanting more. he bucked his hips into your fist only to get slapped in the face. hard.
“sh-shit, baby, could you go faster?” he asked, his voice cracking.
“tsk. that’s not how you ask, now is it?” you tutted, shaking your head in teasing disappointment “say please like a good boy. hmm?”
you stopped moving your hands. waiting for his plead. continuing to rub yourself against his thigh.
“p-please.” his voice came out ragged and broken. you slapped him in the face again, his face turning red. his hair a tousled mess.
“say it louder, boy.” you urged. relishing in the desperate look in his eyes. he looked completely gone.
“fuck— please— go faster!” he begged swallowing hard.
“atta boy.” you took that chance to grab his throat with one hand to squeeze it hard with no mercy until he started to audibly choke and gasp. with the other hand you started stroking harsher and faster, making him twitch and whimper with a choke.
you squeezed his cock harder and his throat. thumbing his tip to make him more sensitive, his eyelashes lined with tears that you had never seen before and your thighs clenched agaist his thighs, rubbing onto your clit in an overwhelmingly hot sensation that made you moan a little too loud. seongje struggled in your hold, gasping for air when you let go of his throat. relentlessly, you pumped his cock upwards and down until hot, white spurts of cum splattered out onto your wrists and hand. but you didn’t stop. you forced your weight onto him, riding his thighs until you reached your own climax and closed your eyes to feel the sensation take over you. your panties were soaking wet, clit sensitive causing you to twitch and writhe over your sensitive boyfriend who looked like he was about to cry.
tears and drool fell down his beautiful face. his brown hair a mess, and his taunting smirk replaced with parted lips that released whimpers and low, guttural groans. he tried to grab onto your wrist one more time only to get slapped hard in the face by you. your hands pumped mercilessly on his cock, his body twitching and shaking from overstimulation.
a cry escaped his lips “gosh, y/n. slap me again. i love it when you slap me. please.”
“yeah? you like it? open your mouth.” you said, bringing your hand up to his throat. he complied, opening his mouth. a glob of your spit trickled sloppily down his mouth, some of it splattering onto his bottom lips “swallow.”
he swallowed hard, an embarrassing high-pitched moan leaving his mouth as he pleaded for you to slap him and you did. he pleaded again. slap. slap. slap.
“o-oh my god—ngh—“ he gasped with every sensation that struck every vein in his body, “feel s’good. fuck— just like that, baby, just like that.”
“f-fuck—i’m gonna— i’m gonna cum— i’m gonna cum!” he whined, holding onto your wrist for support. his eyes rolled back, mouth parting open into a silent moan. his deep voice now a pitch higher.
he came undone for a second time. bucking his hips up into your fist in desperate attempt to ground himself.
a thick rod of his white cum spurt out of his veiny cock. seongje drawled out a long shuddering sigh, whimpering thanks yous. his face contorting from the soreness of getting slapped over and over. poor boy looked used up. flushed red and droopy eyed. seongje laid breathless and used up below. a look of surrender making its way into his eyes as if to say “you won”. the asshole smirk of his wiped right off.
hi r u doing smut fics? but anyways if u do pls make about how whc 2 characters would react if you give them a bj 🤭
anyways i luv ur whc fics keep it up thanks xoxo
weak hero class headcanons — going down on the boys of weak hero class 🔞
synopsis — how the boys of whc... well, anon’s ask is pretty self-explanatory
pairing/s — (all the whc boys here are in senior year/18+) sieun x reader, suho x reader, baku x reader, gotak x reader, juntae x reader, baekjin x reader, seongje x reader, beomseok x reader
a/n — >< everyone’s been waiting for something a bit more... out there for the whc boys, and since i rarely do smut, this was definitely a challenge !! i hope everyone has a fun time. disclaimer: this is pure smut, mdni. if you’re a minor in the taglist, don’t interact pls. i removed who i know are under 18, but might have missed some.
masterlist | join the taglist | request a fic
⤷ yeon sieun
he doesn’t say a word when you kneel, just watches you with that intense, unreadable stare. it’s not until your lips wrap around him that his breath hitches—barely audible, but sharp. his fingers curl into the arm of the couch, the only giveaway that he’s actually unraveling.
you go slow, wanting to see what kind of reactions you can pull from him. he swallows hard. his thigh twitches. then, finally, a sound—low and breathy: “don’t stop.” he doesn’t guide you. doesn’t push. but when his hand cups your jaw, there’s something raw in it—like he’s grounding himself with you. he finishes with a tight exhale, eyes fluttering shut, and when he comes back down, he murmurs, “come here,” like he’s desperate to hold you, to take back the control he just gave up.
⤷ ahn suho
he watches you kneel in front of him, his expression shifting from surprised to almost amused. “you sure about this, baby?” he asks, voice still calm, but you can hear the hint of anticipation beneath it.
but the moment your mouth wraps around him, his teasing demeanor fades. “f-fuck—wait—” his hand flies to your hair instinctively, not rough but firm, guiding you just the way he wants. his hips buck upward just a little as he tries to hold himself together, but it's clear he's losing it.
"shit, you feel so good," he groans, voice thick with need. “y-you’re gonna make me—” he cums with a sharp gasp, eyes fluttering shut, his grip tightening in your hair as he shudders. afterward, he pulls you up into his arms, kissing the top of your head with a soft laugh.
“you have no idea what you just did to me,” he whispers, his breath still unsteady, holding you close like he never wants to let go.
⤷ park humin (baku)
“oh my god, wait, wait—holy shit—” he’s already whining before you even start, half laughing, half panicking. you press your mouth to his length and he melts, one hand flying to his hair like he needs to pull it to stay conscious.
he talks through the whole thing—loud, flustered, ridiculous. “you’re so hot, oh my god, i can’t—babe, babe—your mouth is actually insane—” he keeps trying to look down at you, like he doesn’t want to miss a second. every time you suck a little harder, he moans like he’s being possessed.
“i’m gonna cum, oh fuck, i’m—ah, shit—” he whimpers, hand flying down to cover his mouth as you take all of him in. afterward, he lies flat on the bed, panting. “i literally saw god. was that even real? or did i hallucinate?”
⤷ go hyuntak (gotak)
he doesn’t say a word—just watches you silently, jaw clenched. when your lips wrap around him, he inhales sharply through his nose, gripping the edge of the couch so hard his knuckles go white. his voice comes out low and strained—“don’t tease. if you’re gonna do it, do it.” and when you take him deeper, a groan rumbles out of his chest—so deep it makes your thighs clench.
he doesn’t fuck your throat, doesn’t move much at all—but you can feel the tension in his body like a live wire. he cums with a stifled grunt, holding your head there as he spills down your throat. afterward, he leans back, breathing heavy, eyes glazed. “…fuck. that was something else.”
⤷ seo juntae
he looks like he might pass out when you kneel—eyes wide, hands flying up like he’s about to protest but forgets how. “w-wait, you don’t have to—i mean, if you want to, i’m not gonna stop you, but—” and then your mouth is on him and he chokes on a gasp. his hands hover awkwardly in the air for a second before he grips the blanket, knuckles white.
“ohmygod—th-that feels—” his voice is high, barely coherent, broken between moans and shaky breaths. you glance up and his face is flushed, lip caught between his teeth, eyes behind his glasses already watering. he cums with a whimper, hips bucking up with his thighs trembling, immediately covering his face. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to go that fast, i just—holy shit, you’re really good at that.”
⤷ na baekjin
he doesn’t speak when you kneel, but his expression changes—sharpening, almost curious. maybe a little hungry. he stays perfectly still as your mouth wraps around him, but his breathing falters, eyes darkening as he watched his length disappear against your lips, hand twitching once before it settles gently on your head. he groans—quiet but intense, jaw clenching every time your tongue swirls around him. “fuck,” he mutters under his breath, hand tightening in your hair.
you feel his thighs tense under your touch, and his voice breaks when he tells you, “just like that.” his body shivering as you hollow your cheeks. he cums with a gasp, hips barely jerking, breath catching like he didn’t expect it to hit so fast. after, he helps you up, kisses you slow and deep, he touches your jaw gently and pulls you into his arms, forehead to yours and whispers, “thank you, darling.” like you just saved his life.
⤷ geum seongje
he smirks the moment you drop to your knees, eyes glinting with something dark. “damn, baby. didn’t think you had it in you.” but when your mouth sinks down on him, that smirk vanishes—replaced by a look that’s feral.
his hand fists your hair, not rough at first, but when you moan around him? he pulls—hard. “fuck—keep doing that,” he growls, “you look so good like this. fuck, you’re mine.” keeping you there as his hips twitch forward. he pulls—not to hurt you, but to keep you there, like he needs it. his other hand wraps around the back of your neck, firm and possessive, holding you close as he thrusts shallowly into your mouth.
“look at me,” he growls. “i said—look.” his pupils are blown wide, gaze locked on yours like you’ve got him under a spell. “you’re fucking perfect like this,” he pants. “mine. you get that? mine.”
“fuck, you’re gonna make me—” he cums with a sharp gasp, head tilting back as his muscles tighten, breath ragged. the moan he lets out is raw, needy, almost desperate—the kind that lingers in your ears long after.
and afterward, he yanks you into his lap, kissing you sloppily, breathing you in like he needs you to live. “don’t ever do that for anyone else,” he whispers against your lips, “i’ll lose my fucking mind.”
⤷ oh beomseok
he stares when you kneel in front of him—eyes wide behind his glasses, mouth slightly parted like he can’t believe what’s about to happen. “a-are you… really gonna—?” his voice is so quiet, it barely comes out. he shifts back on the bed like he doesn’t know where to put his hands. but he doesn’t stop you—he can’t. and the moment you wrap your lips around him, he breaks. “f-fuck—wait—” his head falls back instantly, a choked gasp punching out of him as his fingers grasp at the sheets.
his glasses slide down a bit, his breath stuttering as the heat rushes straight to his face. he whimpers when you take him deeper, soft and sharp, his thighs trembling slightly as he tries so hard not to move. “you look so good like this,” he pants. “fuck, you’re gonna make me—” he cums suddenly, hips twitching up into your mouth before he can warn you. it’s high-pitched, needy, almost embarrassed as he moans through it—his glasses fogged, his whole body tensed and shaking. afterward, he reaches for you with trembling hands, pulling you against his chest like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. “how am i supposed to act normal after that?” his usually deep voice is slightly higher now, still recovering from the high.
if u liked this, a reblog would be greatly appreciated to help my work reach other people as well >><< !! thank u thank u sm
A lot of people seem to think Sieun's and Suho's relationship is just sweet and lovey dovey and nice, and completely miss the darker, violent side of their connection. For hurting Sieun, Suho breaks Yeongbin's hand like nothing and sits there completely unbothered while that boy cries in pain at his feet. For hurting Suho, Sieun smashes Wooyoung's ankle with a dumbbell and leaves him screaming on the floor, utterly uncaring. Both are capable of great violence and are deeply obsessed with each other to the point of unleashing it on others with no fucks given.
synopsis: yeon sieun was notoriously known as your program’s tech handyman. when he wasn’t hunched over calculus problem sets, sieun was busy fixing his peers' laptops, for a price of course—one that was nonexistent for you because you seemed to make his software hard.
genre: another smutty university au
word count: 6.9k
warnings: [MDNI!] explicit sexual content, grinding, making out, oral (f rec.), pussydrunk!sieun, piv sex, protected sex, many consent checks, sieun is so so gone for you, you are literally his pretty little angel, if devotion was a person it would be him, sieun can’t figure out his goddamn integral
reader notes: written with afab reader in mind. reader has breasts and a vagina. reader is described to look ‘small’ at one point. all characters are consenting and over 18 yo.
this fic was requested – thank you so much, i loved coming up with the concept .ᐟ
۶ৎ 𝑙𝑒𝑒'𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑢𝑑𝑒 ࿐ park jihoon uggghhhh need need need him. had the most exquisite time picking out the concept pictures.
“You broke it again?”
His voice sounds flat, but there's a tinge of hope, a sense of subdued anticipation perking his last few syllables.
Sieun stares at the half-solved integral on his desk, phone pressed to his cheek, screen cold against his skin, fingers loosely gripping the sides. The warm glow of his lamp casts a nimbus over the mess made of a barely punched in calculation and his calculus textbook, pages worn from flipping back and forth between the chapter problem sets and appendix answers. Outside his window, the campus sky is dim, too gray for six in the evening.
“I didn’t break it!” Your voice crackles through the line, scratchy with frustration. Sieun can hear your breath over the receiver, rough and rushed.
“It just won’t turn on,” you continue, “I don’t know what happened. I just opened my tabs, and then—dead.”
He exhales. “And you tried plugging it in?”
“Yes, Sieun. I tried everything you taught me—nothing worked,” you huff, “I have an essay due Monday, and everything I need to write it is on this damn laptop.”
You sound slightly breathless, your voice hoarse with the kind of air that clings to lungs on chilly evenings. Wind rushes past the speaker, muddling your words with static. Sieun’s ears pick up on this.
“Where are you,” he asks, dull, but more abrupt than intended.
You’re silent for a few beats.
“Outside.” Another gust of wind bleeds through the receiver.
He feels the warmth of perspiration prick across his palms. “Where?”
The brisk, hollow rustle of plastic, and then, “Walking to your dorm.”
Sieun feels his breath dissipate in the back of his throat.
“I’m sorry,” you start. Sieun squeezes his eyes upon hearing these words in your soundwaves, words he thought were too unnecessary when masked in your voice.
“I saw the forecast, there’s going to be rain—shoot, I forgot my umbrella, I knew I was forgetting something—anyways, I figured I'd head over to yours before it hit,” there’s an unmistakable sincerity in your voice, “I really need you right now, Sieun.”
Need to murder him, he thought. Clearly, that was more fitting for the illusive objective of your last sentence, one that roused his hand to the back of his neck, called his fingers to smooth over his golden skin, wailed for them to curl against his flesh in hopes of helping him get a grip of himself. Literally.
He sighs, half flustered, half enlivened. “You’ll be here soon?”
“Yeah, just five minutes more.”
There’s a pause. “Okay.”
A quick exhale breaks past your lips, a restrained puff of air that had been trapped in the back of your throat, waiting for a green light to let it loose. “Thank you, Sieun.”
He can still feel the ghost of icy plastic against his cheek when you cut the call. Unfocused eyes cloud over the sheets and pens and smudged writing lazing atop his desk.
Of course.
Of course you’re coming over. Because why wouldn’t you? Your laptop’s dead, and he’s the tech guy, and this is just what happens. He fixes things.
And right now, you need him to fix your things. He couldn’t help but feel his heart jump at the idea, an eagerness creeping into his chest, fogging up his lungs and grabbing hold of the air that dared to escape up his trachea.
Sieun, as cold as he seemed, felt warmth fixing your things, like he’d swallowed the sun and it dissolved into his blood. Unlike the peers on your campus, he does it for you free-of-charge—hell, he thinks he’d pay you just to let him fidget around with your laptop’s battery that burns to touch or the program functions you can’t seem to figure out even after using the ‘help’ tab. He’d never admit to it though.
Not yet, at least.
His eyes flicker to the unfinished problem adorning his notebook, numbers and symbols half-formed, abandoned mid-line. The solution sits just out of reach.
Much like you.
His unfinished integral mocks him.
Your cheeks are flushed, supple and radiant, the dermal symptom of cool drizzle and dewy autumn air. Sieun’s eyes surf the strands of your hair, glinting from subtle rain droplets that catch even in the dim fluorescent light of his dorm hallway.
You look small like this in his doorway, backpack straps sagging over your shoulders, your sweater sporting little wet spots that are sure to smell like petrichor. Your hands tightly clutch a white plastic bag to your abdomen, the vertices of a cardboard box poking out at him.
You smile at him, small and sweet and a little flustered. “There was some drizzle when I turned onto your lane.”
Sieun’s gaze, currently traveling across the ridges tenting your plastic bag, snaps to your face.
“Oh.” It’s a soft expression, a barely-there phoneme he manages through concern for you—how dare the clouds cry over your angel face?—and some muffled curiosity.
Sieun just can’t help the fall of his gaze. He stares blankly at the bag in your hands. He’s not surprised when you take notice.
“It’s brownie mix!”
He peers at you again.
“Brownies?”
You grin sheepishly, fiddling with the plastic handles. “Yeah, I thought, well– you work so hard, you deserve a fun break, one you can get a sweet treat out of!” You pause. “And, I guess it’s also thanks for my laptop. You’ve saved me a lot of money I already don’t have, more than once now.”
He’s still staring at you, face blank, unreadable, lips sealed in a line, but his eyes gleamed. Whether it was annoyance or humour, you weren’t sure, but his dreamy, tired eyes gleamed.
Your eyes go wide. “Oh gosh, I should’ve asked you if brownies were okay. They looked so good on the box, I just had to pick them up. You could be allergic to chocolate, or maybe you don’t even like brownies–”
“Brownies are cool.”
Sieun watches your lips halt their rambling, configured mid-sentence, before they slowly spread into a toothy grin, one that radiates a warm feeling into his bones and almost—almost—makes his lip twitch up to match yours.
All you needed to do was force start.
That’s all.
No hardware to trifle with, no delinquent software meddling with your computer programs.
All Sieun had to do was press a couple buttons in tandem before your screen lit back up to life, resurrected from its cry of wolf.
Your cheeks had heated, bashful from your ignorance, but also a little humoured.
They blazed further when you caught sight of the calculus massacre on his desk, hurried apologies spilling past your pretty lips to wash out the guilt that crawled up your chest.
Sieun reassured you all was well—It’s fine, I was almost done anyways—with a look in his eyes that had you capitulating to his sincerity.
“Can I repay you with brownies?” you had prompted, fingers twiddling behind your back as if it would have subliminally helped rouse the answer you sought after.
Sieun slowly flattened your laptop to a shut before his Bambi eyes peaked at you and whispered exactly what you needed to know, exactly what you wanted to hear.
So, you’d both clambered in his tiny, cozy dorm kitchen, ingredients and bowls and utensils scattered across granite, instructions serenading the walls in your voice, Sieun’s hands working to mix the dark sea of cocoa batter.
You had assumed the role of a conductor but managed to pull a mess over you like a magnet. Whatever hadn’t been mixed into the warm batch of brownies basking atop Sieun’s countertop had found consolation on your being—cocoa powder and melted butter and drying batter decorated your skin and sweater.
Sieun thought it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen.
Of course, Sieun had missed any defiant ingredient attacks entirely.
You’d both picked up a piece each, melted chocolate furnishing your mouths while Sieun, starry-eyed and attentive, listened to you babble about your stress baking and how, no matter the many times you made something, you’d always be left with a bit of a messy souvenir from the process.
It was during this instance when the rain had hit.
Hard and harsh and pattering ferociously against the window of his measly living room. You and Sieun had snapped your heads at the sound, sticky embellishments of chocolate coating your fingers.
You’d looked so worried, so consumed in the thought of how you’d walk home through what was practically a typhoon. You hadn’t checked for a storm warning, all you’d known was a chance of rain. Your umbrella wouldn’t have stood a chance.
You’d looked so worried, so it felt almost natural when Sieun suggested you just stay over.
“...Really?” Your eyes were breaking past their sockets, and Sieun had nerely felt the weight of his words crash over him until your orbs softened and he saw the ghost of a smirk brush past your lips.
“Yeah, you can’t get home through that,” his voice had been tinged with his radiation of care for you. His eyes swept over your chocolate-covered frame. “You can use my shower if you want. I’ll give you some clean clothes to wear.”
You’d obliged. Quite happily.
And now, Sieun sat at his desk, unfinished integral staring up at him, the muted sound of his shower silking through the wall, almost louder than the merciless storm outside his window.
Sieun hadn’t touched his sheets or pens since he’d retreated to his room, changed into his own set of nightwear, and lowered himself into his desk chair. He couldn’t focus.
How could he? When you were just a dozen feet away, naked and wet under the rush of his shower.
He knew he shouldn’t think about it, begged himself not to, but when his mind slipped over the way you had chocolate powder flowering your neck and underneath your sweater, he couldn’t help but let his mind run, just a little.
Run over the way your fingers probably tucked under the bottom of your sweater, dragging it up along your beautiful body and over your head. What had you worn underneath? Had you even worn anything?
In Sieun’s little fantasy, you hadn’t. You’d been bare for him under your clothes, and he’d been ready, quick to ravish you, to kiss and suck and bite at your warm skin.
But, that was just a fantasy.
In reality, it didn’t matter whether or not you’d worn anything underneath your sweater. Sieun had just helped you out, made things a little easier for you, eased your anxiety by offering an innocent sleepover so you wouldn’t have to sacrifice yourself to what was the making of an ocean outside his dorm.
It didn’t matter, just like his integral, still unfinished. Deferred. Mocking.
The blood had barely made it to his cock before it was rushing back to his brain.
A couple minutes more of unsuccessfully undressing the math symbols littering his half-blank page and you were padding your way into his room, feet bare, heels marginally lifted off the cold floor of his dorm. Your clothes were folded, carried atop your forearms, and your cute body was swallowed in his t-shirt and shorts, sleeves too long, neck hole too wide, fabric swaying just over your knees with each of your scampered steps.
You gaze at Sieun from the edge of his bed, clothes now tucked away in your backpack, the hem of his shirt twirling in your fingers.
God, Sieun thought you looked ethereal, bare-faced and in his clothes. The warm, mellow glow of his desk lamp illuminates your face like a halo. Your sweet angel eyes are drowning him far past the storm outside.
Sweet oblivious angel eyes. If only they could see the mess he’d made of you in his head.
“Are you ready to sleep, or do you want to study some more?” Your voice is so soft, so melodious bouncing within the confines of his skull, and your eyes twinkle just right, brightened from his lamp and the mere cast of moonlight simmering through his window.
“I’m done,” Sieun starts, “You take the bed. I’m going to sleep in the living room.”
He’s about to push himself up when you cross your cute arms, defiant and determined. He watches your eyes narrow, eyebrows dip with a scrunch.
“Absolutely not!” you chide, your squint piercing. Sieun stares, half stood. He sits back down.
“It’s not fair to you! I showed up, practically unannounced, had you press a couple buttons on my laptop because I was too incompetent to figure it out myself, then made you make brownies with me against your will since you don’t take any economic compensation! And I know you’re not done with your problem set, I can see it from here. It’s exactly how you left it before we made those godforsaken brownies! I completely butted into your evening and messed up your studying, so you best believe you’ll be sleeping in your own bed and getting a good night’s rest!”
You puff at the end, like you’d said it in one breath, forearms glued to each other, fingers digging into your biceps.
Sieun is still staring at you, face blank, eyes gentle.
“You’re not incompetent.”
You blink.
“That’s not the point, Sieun.” You huff, pointing to his blankets.
“Now, get to bed.”
His eyes flick, your attention on his bed now shared. There’s an ease in the air, one that helps to hoist Sieun from his desk chair, click his lamp off, and carry himself over to the side of his bed. He lifts the corner of his duvet, slides underneath, and lets it fall over him. All without a peep.
His eyes scan to your frame, still at the edge of his bed, still in his too-baggy clothes, still looking too ethereal for him to indulge below the moonlight’s gaze, even in your quarrelsome stance.
You stare back at him.
“Okay… good.” You sound stifled, almost suspicious of his obedience.
Your arms unclasp, a little dazed at how fast he’d listened to you. With a hesitant scratch to your neck, you shuffle to what would be your side of Sieun’s bed, just for tonight.
Even though Sieun wishes it could be a less transient arrangement.
But he was doing this to help you.
Afterall, you’d looked so worried.
Sieun watches your warm body roll onto his mattress, feels it dip with your added weight from across. You shamble to face him, the duvet bunching in your hands, a relaxed, content tilt gracing your lips. Your cheek presses against the pillow, eyes squinting with warmth and kindness and gratitude and what Sieun could describe as a fatally contagious ray of tranquility.
You look so sweet like this, cuddled into his bed in clothes—his clothes—that swallow your body whole. The rain had slowed, granting permission to an even larger crowd of moonlight to flow over your face.
Sieun thought you were unreal, a mythical being from a dreamy world far beyond the current celestial limits.
A mythical being who saw him only for his technological abilities.
You were only here for tonight. Sieun was just helping you.
Because you had looked so worried.
So, he rolls onto his side, nearing the edge of the bed, hands tittering close to an abyss.
“Goodnight,” he grumbles. He doesn’t bother to pull the duvet to his front, lets it hang just over his side, as if any extra movement would make him appear more visible to you.
You gape at his back.
“Sieun!”
Sieun closes his eyes. Perhaps the world around him wouldn’t see him if he couldn’t see the world.
You puff, a frustrated push of air that has Sieun squinting his eyes shut further. He feels the duvet minutely ruffle behind him, feels the dip of the mattress sink gradually.
“I don’t get it, are you actually upset?” Although you were quiet, you sounded so disgruntled, confused. Sieun could only wish he was better at this so he wouldn’t have to bear your honey-like voice convey such emotion, like thrones stuck in a cloud.
But, Sieun was Sieun. A man of minimal words who spoke the truth and nothing but—until now.
“No, just trying to get a good night’s rest.” Just trying to keep my mind off you, so close, for just one night.
“Ugh! Will you just turn around so I can talk to you?”
Your hand reaches out and grips the collar of Sieun’s shirt, a tight grip pulling him towards you, a gentle grip to avoid attempted murder.
His eyes pop open, a hand catching onto the taut fabric around his neck. If there was the slightest chance Sieun’s conscious was to succumb to strangulation tonight, he thinks he’d only remember the warmth of your fingers fogging over the back of his neck.
Sieun yields to your force, falling onto his back. Why are you so damn strong?
With a hatch of his neck, his eyes find yours in the dark room, the patch of moonlight from his window dimmed from the roar of thunder and familiar strikes of heavy droplets against the glass.
There’s light provocation simmering through your face, playful like a child in a game of tag.
“Talk about what?” His voice is quiet but firm, his body a statue sandwiched between the mattress and sheets, daring not to move a millimeter.
You peer at him, words hanging along the tip of your tongue, as if debating whether they were worth speaking into the medium shared between your beings.
You decide they are.
“I know you take a fee from others when you fix their laptops.” There’s a quirk in his neck, a twitch at the corner of his lips that urges you further. “You’ve never taken one from me, even when I mention it. Why is that?”
Sieun feels a gradual quickening of his heartbeat at this concoction of your voice, and, like the start of a tornado, the thoughts in his head rampage into a whirlwind.
To be or not to be? Sieun, who previously seemed to lack any cognitive resources to solve his monster integral, was now calculating his next move with rigorous intricacy.
Maybe it was the kick in adrenaline that had him instigating your little game.
Sieun chose to be.
“Why do you think?”
Your eyes narrow in an instant, the entire play a chain reaction. Were you also debating your next actions, words? Were you also aware of the string snapping taut between you, tense and nearing a strong, sudden tear?
Sieun definitely was. Like always, he knew what he was getting himself into, knew he was igniting something far beyond repair, unlike the many laptops he’d resurrected.
Sieun knew what he’d started. He’d calculated it, perhaps from the very beginning, from the moment he uttered the word “stay.”
He was just helping you, for one night. Just one night.
You’d looked so worried, of course.
Perhaps Sieun had wanted your eyebrows to furrow from another force of nature—him.
Say something.
A quirk to your lips. Dark shadows in your eyes.
And a hand reaching out for his neck, this time to pull him to the plushest centre of your visage.
His lips graze the fullness of yours when you whisper in a breath.
“I knew to force start.”
Sieun isn’t spared a chance to retaliate his sockets stretching back when you press into him.
The dense pressure molds his own lips flush against yours, an electric fog swarming your face and down the flanks of your neck.
It’s a reflex, an abrupt, consuming, greedy reflex, when his arm curls over your back, big hand hastily grazing along your spine to knot into your hair.
Had Sieun fallen asleep?
This has to be a dream.
But your lips were too soft against his, too warm.
And your back curved so well along his forearm, strands so luxurious curled around his fingers.
Your hand on his chest, basking down his torso… Sieun believes he doesn’t possess even a speckle of the imagination required to muster a feeling as heavenly as that.
Definitely not enough to muster a feeling as heavenly as your hand sliding over him through his thin flannel pajamas.
You were a fallen angel who had come to play unsacred games.
And Sieun proved to be a worthy opponent.
His fingers grip around the base of your skull to pull you from his lips.
His eyes are heavy with a murmur of inquisition, flitting over your lips before boring into your own with words unspoken. You mirror his gaze with equal weight, savouring his quiet inhale when you push further down over his hardening curve, feathering your hand up to rest against the supple part of his abdomen.
“You know where this is going.” It was a statement, a quiet, breathless, almost restrained mutter carrying all the responsibility and uncertainty and anticipation littered within Sieun.
You gaze, knowing, unbothered.
“This is what you want? This is what you came for?”
“Yes,” you whisper, “Take it as part of my thanks.”
“I thought the brownies were your thanks.”
You smirk. “That was just the appetizer.”
Sieun scoffs quietly, a humble pfft to accompany the fingers gently rubbing over the bottom of your scalp, a means of easing into his next utterance.
You were drowning in his milk chocolate orbs, a velvety sea full of nothing but care and adoration and awe for you.
“Are you sure you want to go further?” Any quieter and the storm battering upon his window would have drowned his sound completely.
“Yes, Sieun.”
That was everything he needed to hear.
A gentle push to your neck has your lips pressing back into the plushness of his own.
It’s a slow kiss, chaste but blazing with the need you’d both been bearing for months. You move against the other, the ghost of anticipation urging you further into it.
Sieun definitely is not dreaming.
All his prior frustration, graced from his still unsolved practice set and the many long, agonizing weeks of indirect contact with you, melts away, leaving a tender warmth to dry in its place. Your lips feel as soft as—no, they were softer, so much softer, and warm like sun rays on cold skin—the many times he’d imagined the ghost of them wisping against his.
A transient ghost, barely lasting a mere tortuous ten seconds. He’d stop himself from savouring it, pry the ghost away before his hopes shot higher than the sky above him.
But now, you were here, tangible, with your mortal lips on his. They were so supple, so plush and warm and real. And they were flush against his. No one else but him.
Sieun had spent so long denying your fabricated being, the one who would distract him from his problem sets, urge him to isolate from the many gadgets his peers would throw his way in times of technological misfortune.
Sieun decided it was finally time to show you what your ghost had been doing to him.
He sucks in your bottom lip, hands grazing over your hips to pull you over his growing hardness with a delicate hold, treating your vessel like original vintage artwork. Fragile. Authentic. Godly.
The duvet shifts against your back while you shift over him, the core of your heat finding solace over his own. The hem of his borrowed t-shirt rides up your torso like it knows what’s coming.
It’s an abrupt, consuming, visceral feeling when you first connect with the stiff rod bulging against the stressed material of Sieun’s pajamas.
It’s the same for Sieun, so when a small groan muses from the depths of his throat at the feeling of your heat radiating along his length, he remains basking in its aftermath.
Lips still working into each other, you almost don’t acknowledge the slow, tantalizing roll of your hips.
Sieun does, and it drives him crazy.
Sieun, who was always so cool, composed, and distant was now growing hot and undone, all while pressing himself further into you, meeting you at an undefined middle, ridding any and all separation from your heating bodies from the insufferable vexation of need.
His hands knead into your hips, bearing your heat further along him, before they configure to push himself up while embracing you flush against his chest.
You’re consuming him, physically and mentally. Your lips on his, your body wrapped tightly around his own, hot cunt slowly grinding over the hard curve of his cock, a barrier of too much fabric plastered between your beings and pushing you both into frustrated desperation.
Your name, your scent, the suppleness of your skin, they all fog his head, conquer it with the ghost of you.
Both your mortal and immortal forms had possessed him, consumed him whole until he was nothing but a spec of utter devotion to you and you only.
Your hips grind again, slow, sinful, and Sieun’s breath stutters against your mouth.
You feel the shiver that rebounds through him like a tremor, feel the tight grip of his hands at your waist falter before steadying again, tighter this time, as if he needs to anchor you, or maybe himself.
His lips leave yours only to trail hot, desperate, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, your neck, your crescent of skin beyond the shirt’s collar, the devotion in each press of his mouth turning you molten.
“You feel…” he murmurs, barely audible, like he’s speaking to himself, “…too good. Too good to be real.”
You tilt your hips forward again, slower, answering him with equal desperation, and Sieun’s head tips back, a ragged exhale pulling from his throat. The sight strikes you—his lashes trembling, his brows knit together in pleasure so raw it borders on pain. He looks ruined.
Kiss-swollen lips and flushed cheeks, shades of pink colonizing his visage in the shower of eventide luminosity.
You don’t realize you’ve gasped until his gaze finds you again, pupils blown wide and gleaming with disbelief. His thumbs rub along your hip bones, a fragrant sensation even through the fabric of his shorts you adorned.
Your hands glide under his shirt, pushing up until he’s reaching for the edge himself, prying the shirt past his head and letting the fabric fall to the cold hardwood beneath his bed.
His hands slip beneath the hem of your own, and his touch is hesitant, wavering, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he reaches too far.
“Can I…?” he asks, voice husky and threadbare, already tugging at the fabric.
You nod. His hands glide up, slow and reverent, brushing over the curves and valleys he’s only ever imagined, each touch leaving heat in its wake.
He drinks in the sight of you like he’s been thirst-starved for days, gentle eyes falling over your face and down to your taut peaks. You weren’t a ghost anymore—you were a dream, glowing and radiant beneath the muted haze of damp moonlight.
And when your bare chest presses to his, skin to skin, nothing between you but the thundering pace of your hearts, Sieun chokes out a soft, desperate moan.
The ghost of you has vanished.
What remains is you—real and soft and warm and all his.
And he’s no longer a boy haunted by longing. He’s a man who’s finally allowed to feel.
Your fingers find the nape of his neck, weaving into the soft strands of his hair, and the sound he lets out—broken, hushed, completely unguarded—settles somewhere deep in your chest.
Sieun’s lips return to yours with more urgency now, less caution, the kind that only comes when desire and restraint blur into the same overwhelming thing. His tongue traces your bottom lip before slipping inside, gentle, exploratory, worshipping, like he’s memorizing you.
Every movement of his hips under you is hesitant but needy, as if he’s still trying to slow himself down, still trying to process that you’re not slipping away.
“You’re driving me insane,” he whispers against your mouth, voice hoarse and cracking like lightning behind the storm-glassed windows.
He kisses you again, softer now, almost like an apology for how his hands are now gripping at the swell of your thighs with mounting desperation.
Then, with a breath that shakes against your lips, Sieun pulls back. Only just.
“Lie back,” he murmurs, voice low, thick with something you’ve never heard from him before. Anticipation, maybe. Hunger, definitely.
You do, painfully unlatching from his warmth and sinking into the pillow behind you.
Sieun follows, crawling down the length of your body like a man crossing sacred ground, his drowsy gaze never leaving you. It lingers on the slope of your neck, the lines of your collarbone, the tender stretch of skin bare to the cool air of his bedroom. Each inch he memorizes like scripture, utterly fascinated and unspeakably enamoured.
“You’re…” he begins, almost too quiet to even comprehend, but trails off, like no word quite fits what you are to him.
And then you see it. The way adoration turns to ache.
A valley of creases between his brows, a marginal slit parting his pout, the quickened wisps of air trailing out of him. He’s wrecked, far past.
And you had barely touched him.
Sieun’s hands slide up your thighs, calloused fingertips brushing along the waistband of the very shorts he lent you, the ones riding too low on your hips, the ones he's dreamed about you in far too many nights to count.
He kisses the inside of your knee.
Then your thigh.
Then the soft dip just above your hip bone.
His hands move, thumbs hooking into the waistband. There’s a beat—one last, wordless check—and then he draws them down.
And stops breathing.
You’re bare beneath them. No panties. Just slick, glistening proof of how long you’ve wanted this too.
“Fuck,” he breathes, like it’s been torn from him. His jaw goes slack, eyes shadowed with affection and disbelief. “You didn’t wear—?”
He doesn't finish. He can't.
His hands twitch.
You’ve rendered Yeon Sieun speechless.
Sieun blinks once, twice, like he’s trying to process the sight before him, trying not to let it undo him entirely.
But it does.
It does.
He swallows hard, jaw flexing as his eyes drag along the slick sheen glistening between your thighs, warm and glimmering and pooling out of you sans constraint.
His hands settle on your hips again, firm, needy, desperate.
“You’ve been like this this whole time?” he whispers, voice hoarse, eyes flickering up to meet yours, the question half-shattered already. “Wearing my shorts… like this?”
You don’t have time to answer.
Because Sieun leans in, drawn like a man starved, mouth ghosting just above your heat and breathing you in.
His composure fractures there.
A low, guttural sound breaks from his throat as he presses a slow, devoted kiss to your core. Just one.
Then another. Then again, deeper, wetter, until his tongue slides through your dampened heat with a shuddering groan of restraint and craving colliding all at once.
Your hips twitch and Sieun’s grip tightens instinctively, his fingers digging into your waist to anchor you to him like you might vanish otherwise.
His tongue moves again, slow and patient, still trying to worship even while losing his mind.
But you’re so wet, and he’s so gone.
Each soft moan that slips from your lips draws another shaky exhale from him, each roll of your hips a crack in his control.
He tries to keep it measured. Gentle.
But then he hears you gasp his name, all broken and raw, and something inside him snaps.
His pace quickens.
He licks into you deeper, more desperate, tongue flicking, flattening, circling like he’s chasing a high that stubbornly runs just a step out of his reach. His nose brushes your clit and he doesn’t even think to pull back.
He wants it all.
You feel his moan against you, deep and wrecked, and you realize:
Sieun isn’t composed anymore.
He’s hungry.
Possessed.
And completely, unbearably devoted to the taste of you.
You’re gasping now, each breath shallower than the last, and Sieun can feel you trembling beneath his palms.
It spurs him on, wrecks him in ways he never knew were possible.
His thumbs rub slow circles into your hips, as if to soothe you, steady you, but his mouth is relentless, nose tirelessly working into your nub. His tongue is languid one moment, then firmer the next, lapping through your folds with aching, focused precision, memorizing all that makes you fall apart.
You roll into a nimble arch, head tipping back, and your thighs quiver where they rest over his shoulders.
“Sieun—” you whimper.
His name breaks in your throat, and that’s what crumbles him.
He groans into you again, the vibration shooting straight through your core as he licks you harder now, deeper, more rhythmic, mouth coaxing you right to the edge, right to the place he’s been aching to take you.
His hands are cradling your hips now, keeping you spread open, helpless, vulnerable, his.
And then he whispers it, barely audible, a prayer into your skin.
“Come for me.”
Your breath catches.
“Let me taste all of you,” he mumbles again, like he’s asking for divinity, like your pleasure is holy.
And when you finally do, when your body tenses and your thighs clamp tight around his head and that beautiful cry of his name leaves your lips, Sieun doesn’t stop.
He groans into you, licking you through it, drinking it in like he’s never tasted something more sacred.
Like he’s never belonged more to anything—anyone—than he does to you in this moment.
And even after the tremors still, even when you’re limp and gasping and glowing beneath him, he keeps kissing you softly, as if he can’t bear to let you go just yet.
As if this is how he says I’ve wanted you like this forever.
You’re still panting when he pulls back, lips slick and pink, eyes hooded and blown wide with awe. He looks stunned. Disheveled. Like a man undone by worship.
But you, squirming and aching and desperate to have all of him, manage to find your voice.
“Sieun,” you whisper, reaching for him. Your fingers trail along his jaw, coaxing him up until he’s hovering over you again. “I want more.”
His breath hitches.
Your palm slides over his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath his ribs. “I want you inside me.”
Sieun stills completely.
And then his eyes close, jaw tightening as if your words alone could undo the last shreds of his composure.
“Fuck,” he breathes, voice rough with disbelief.
He kisses you, not hard, not hurried, but slow and deep, like it’s all he can do to keep from losing control. You savour the heady taste of your slick coating his lips. He presses his forehead to yours, and mutters shakily, “One second.”
You watch as he reaches for the drawer beside his bed and pulls out a condom from the crumpled blue box Hu-min had shoved at him weeks ago with a stupid grin and no explanation.
He’d meant to throw them out. He hadn’t.
He tears the foil open with controlled fingers and slides his flannels and boxers off his body, finally bearing himself free.
He’s thick, flushed, already leaking from the tip. He hisses under his breath as he rolls the condom on, fingers twitching like he’s barely holding it together.
When he settles between your thighs, eyes drowning in your sight, the air changes.
Gone is the boy who’s too quiet, too closed off, too powered from the urge of indignation.
What remains is Sieun drowned in passion, eyes wide and dreamy and dazed by the sight of you spread open for him, the warmth of your body beckoning his own.
“You sure?” he asks again, voice almost too tender.
You nod, pulling him down into a kiss, and guide him with a soft whisper, “Yes. Please, Sieun. I want all of you.”
He exhales shakily.
Then he lines himself just beyond your heat, and with a leisurely push of his hips, he slides inside.
You both gasp.
You’re hot and wet and hug onto his inching cock, and he sinks in like he’s always meant to belong there.
“God—” he grits, arms quavering on either side of you as he tries not to lose it too fast, forehead dropping to your shoulder.
“You’re…” His voice cracks. “So good. So—gosh, I don’t—”
You wrap your legs around him, anchoring him to you, and moan when he rocks forward again, deeper this time. You feel everything, every inch, every pulse, every lazed drag.
He starts slow, shallow, testing your fit, his own restraint. His hips roll into yours with a tender kind of ache, like he’s afraid to break you, like each inch of him inside you is a miracle he can’t fully comprehend.
But your body answers with desperate softness, clinging to him like silk caught in wind. You tilt your hips, chasing more friction, and whimper at the way his cock presses deeper, fuller, perfectly where you need him.
Sieun moans, a sound so broken and quiet it nearly guts you.
“Please,” you breathe, clutching at his back, your voice hitching with each movement. “Don’t hold back.”
His jaw clenches. His eyes flutter shut.
And then he moves deeper, hips rocking into you with a fluid rhythm that makes your breath stutter and your legs tighten around him.
The friction is delicious. The stretch, overwhelming yet cosmic.
Sieun presses closer, burying his face further into your neck, panting softly against your skin.
“You’re so—” He chokes on a groan as your walls flutter around him. “You feel unreal.”
You drag your nails lightly down his spine, whispering back between moans.
He fucks into you slowly, like it’s sacred. Each thrust is a vow, a prayer, an unraveling. His hands are everywhere—one gripping your thigh to anchor you to him, the other cradling your jaw like you’re too precious to let go.
Your body sings for him. You meet each movement with your own, hips rising to greet him, rolling and shifting to take him deeper, to keep him close.
Your moans mingle with his gasps, the heat between you building with every thrust, until there’s nothing left of restraint, only the desperate, languid drag of two bodies finding rhythm in devotion.
Sieun lifts his head to look at you—really look—and what he sees makes his hips stutter.
Your face, flushed and shining, lips parted, still pink and swollen, eyes glassy with bliss and admiration.
You’re breathtaking. And right now, you were his.
He moans again, broken and stunned, and leans down to kiss you like he’ll fall apart if he doesn’t, slow, messy, teeth grazing lips, all while his hips begin to move faster, harder, chasing something he’s never dared imagine before you.
Your bodies are slick with heat and need, the world around you reduced to nothing but the way he fits, the way he fills, the way he worships you with every thrust.
Sieun is whispering your name like a lifeline, like it’s the only word he knows, murmured into the skin of your throat, your jaw, your lips, as if it can tether him to reality while he teeters on the edge of something vast and consuming.
“You feel so good,” he rasps, voice hoarse and reverent. “So perfect—you’re perfect.”
Your back arches, body shuddering as he angles his hips just right, deep and slow and precise, hitting that spot inside you that makes gush over his length.
Your moans turn high and breathless, desperate.
“Sieun—” you gasp, legs tightening around his waist, pulling him in deeper. “I’m close—oh god—”
He knows.
He feels it, the way you start to flutter and squeeze around him, the way your breaths collapse into whimpers. And even through the haze of his own rising pleasure, Sieun slows down just enough to draw it out for you, to feel every quivering second of it.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers, breath stuttering. “Come, please.”
And you do.
It rushes over you in waves—white-hot, pulsing, unstoppable—your climax washing through your entire body with a strangled moan, your limbs tightening, your voice shaking as you cry out his name.
Sieun swears under his breath, something desperate and soft, and then he loses it.
The way you clamp around him, slick, pulsing, so warm, is all it takes to send him spiraling. His rhythm falters, hips stuttering, muscles trembling as the pressure finally breaks. He groans, deep and guttural, and spills into the condom with a few last shallow thrusts, his whole body curling into yours like he’s trying to fuse the two of you together.
And when it’s over, when the tremors in both your bodies begin to subside and your chests press together in exhausted, blissful rhythm, he stays.
Buried in you, breathless, consumed. His forehead pressed to yours, his lashes fluttering, lips ghosting your cheek.
And finally, his lips quirk at the corners, gracing his features with a small, gentle smile.
Because he decides he won’t be washing his shorts.
And he thinks he’ll get you to ruin another pair when you bring your laptop over for him under the guise of fixing it again.
৬ৎ 𝑙𝑒𝑒'𝑠 𝑝𝘰𝑠𝘵𝑙𝑢𝑑𝑒 ࿐ i decided for a soft, feral rendition of sieun’s university au. this will be the last weak hero fic i write before i move onto skz and atz! need more? you can read hyuntak’s version over here ⌯⌲ smart girl
