#whc

[melonalemonade]

shse aquarium date anyone?

[esaestrellaeramilujo]

WHC Boys | How he makes love vs how he fucks headcanons

Summary: headcanons of how this boys will make love vs. fuck you rough

Warning: +18, smut, oral, praise, aftercare, jealousy, masturbation, fem!reader.

Idea credit: megumour on tumblr

Note: English is not my first language so feel free to tell me if there are any mistakes.

𝒀𝒆𝒐𝒏 𝑺𝒊-𝒆𝒖𝒏:

How does he make love?

❥ Si-eun is incredibly observant and quiet. When he’s being gentle, his touch is light... almost delicate.

❥ He isn’t the type to say "I love you" a thousand times, but he will constantly check in, asking if you want to do this or if you like that. His tone remains flat, yet he can’t quite hide how nervous he actually is. His kisses are brief and precise, scattered across your face and the base of your throat.

❥ To him, oral sex is a way to study you. He needs to figure out the exact pressure and rhythm that pushes you over the edge. He takes mental notes of your physical reactions; it’s his way of ensuring your happiness.

❥ His favorite position for making love is a reclined cowgirl. He loves it when you’re on top but leaning down against his chest, burying your face in his neck and letting him take the lead.

❥ He’ll wrap his arms firmly around your waist, pinning you against him as he begins to sink into you, tilting his hips up with slow, deliberate thrusts.

❥ He’d say things like:

“You’re shaking.”

“Don’t pull away.”

“Do you like it like this?”

It’s all very logical, but whispered in his low voice, it feels incredibly intimate.

❥ Aftercare is the most important part for him, especially since he grew up feeling lonely and overlooked by his parents. Afterward, he’ll stay glued to your side, likely bringing you water or food without you even asking. He doesn't say much, but he’ll let you fall asleep on his chest while he silently strokes your hair.

On the other hand… how does he fuck you rough?

❥ It doesnt happen often, it just doesn't align with his usual personality or the nature of your relationship.

❥ If he takes the initiative, it’s usually because he’s been under extreme pressure. He isnt angry with you, and he makes sure you know it’s not your fault... he just needs to burn off the pent-up adrenaline.

❥ If you take the initiative, its usually after he's had to fight to protect you. You simply find it hotter when your quiet boyfriend lets his more violent side slip through.

❥ If he’s jealous, he’ll be rougher in bed, though you’ll likely never know jealousy was the catalyst. Si-eun is guarded and a man of few words; he’d never admit to feeling insecure.

❥ Don’t expect cheap degradation, he’s too smart for that. Instead, he’ll say things that prove he knows you better than anyone:

“Did you really think you could pretend you don’t like this?”

He isn’t mocking you, he’s just exposing the truth of your desire with his signature coldness.

❥ The pace stays slow, but the force behind his thrusts increases. He knows exactly where to push to cause the most pleasure. He doesn’t like leaving marks (or being marked), but he might leave faint bruises from biting your shoulders.

❥ He’s fascinated by seeing you... his shy and quiet girlfriend, go completely irrational for him. He won’t overstimulate you until it hurts, but he’ll certainly keep going until you’re begging.

❥ Si-eun has deceptive physical stamina. Though he looks fragile, he can go for a long time without reaching his own peak.

❥ When he wants to go hard, he likes pinning you against the wall. It lets him move your body however he wants. His hands would be busy: one likely cupping your breast and the other gripping your hip firmly... never to actually hurt you, but to guide you.

𝑨𝒉𝒏 𝑺𝒖-𝒉𝒐:

How does he make love?

❥ When Su-ho decides to be gentle, everything slows down, as if time stops in his room. His touch is firm but warm, he loves tracing your body with his fingers, marvelling at how soft your skin is.

❥ He’ll whisper things like “You’re beautiful,” or just mutter your name in that signature deep voice of his. His kisses are slow and deeply calm, usually starting on your forehead and the tip of your nose before moving down to your neck.

❥ Since he’s always active, working or training, his stamina is enviable. He’ll touch you with technical precision, he needs to make sure you’re properly prepped because he hates the idea of causing you any unnecessary pain.

❥ He gives the best head of your life because he’s dedicated. He genuinely enjoys it because, to him, seeing you come is the ultimate win.

❥ Missionary is his favorite. Its simple, comfortable, and lets him control the depth... plus, he gets to look you in the eyes the whole time. He’ll stroke your face with his thumb while he’s inside you. He isnt much of a hair-puller during sweet moments, he prefers keeping you flushed against him.

❥ He’s a man of few but very direct words:

“Don’t stop.”

“Do that again for me.”

He keeps that playful, ironic tone he uses with his friends, so if he sees you’re totally lost in the pleasure, he might drop a smug: “Am I really that good?”

❥ Su-ho is fiercely protective, so afterward, he’ll wrap you in his arms or a blanket. He’s usually exhausted, so he’ll likely pass out as soon as he gets comfortable.

On the other hand… how does he fuck you rough?

❥ Rough sex with Su-ho doesn't come from a place of malice; he has a strong sense of justice and isn't abusive. It usually happens when built-up desire simply overflows.

❥ It’s rarely about jealousy since he’s quite confident, but if someone has been bothering you, that protective energy transforms into an overwhelming physical intensity in the bedroom.

❥ He won’t degrade you, but he will tease you:

“Is this what you wanted when you were looking at me like that earlier?”

“Bet you can’t handle much more.”

It’s a power play where he knows exactly which buttons to push.

❥ The pace is rough, fast, and passionate. Thanks to his martial arts training, his body control is incredible... he’s fast and strong, but never reckless. He does like leaving marks; he sees it as a silent way of marking his territory. But if you dont like it, he won’t do it.

❥ His stamina is legendary. He just doesnt get tired. Doggy style is his favorite for dominating you because it gives him the perfect angle to be rough. He loves the view and the ability to apply rhythmic force, using his hands to grip your hair or hold your hips. In this mode, he isn't there to cuddle, he’s there to claim.

𝑶𝒉 𝑩𝒆𝒐𝒎-𝒔𝒆𝒐𝒌:

How does he make love?

❥ Generally, Beom-seok is very gentle. His way of showing affection is almost painfully shy and needy.

❥ His touch is hesitant at first, as if he’s waiting for you to reject him or for things to turn sour. Once he feels secure, he lets go and caresses you without breaking eye contact. He loves hearing how good he makes you feel.

❥ He whispers things like “Dont leave me” or “You’re the only thing I have,” constantly seeking validation. His kisses are soft, concentrated on your hands or your neck.

❥ Beom-seok is surprisingly good at giving oral. He’s deeply obsessed with your taste. He does it to please you, but also because it makes him feel useful. There’s always a shadow of insecurity, worrying if he’s doing it well enough, but your reactions are usually enough to reassure him.

❥ His favorite position is missionary, but with him clinging to you tightly. He needs the eye contact and the feeling of your weight to convince himself that you’re choosing him.

❥ He’ll rarely grab your neck or hair when making love, those gestures remind him too much of the abuse he’s suffered.

❥ Afterward, he feels safest. He’ll stay wrapped around you in silence, likely hiding his face against your chest with a small smile.

On the other hand… how does he fuck you rough?

❥ Rough sex with Beom-seok doesn't usually stem from healthy passion, but from frustration or jealousy. If he feels sidelined or thinks you’ve paid attention to someone else, he will use sex to reaffirm that you belong to him.

❥ He’s the type to take out his daily pent-up rage on you. In these moments, he can become unrecognizable. He won’t use cruel insults, but he might mock your need for him as a way to project his own insecurities: “You know nobody else is ever going to love you like this, right?”

❥ The rhythm is erratic and a bit clumsy, driven by a mix of desire and anger. He likes leaving marks, especially bites or hickeys in visible places, to "mark his territory." There’s no romance here, it’s a physical manifestation of his anger at the world.

❥ In public, he wont show his jealousy. He’ll be quiet and distant. But in private, he becomes suffocating. Sex becomes a way to punish you for making him feel excluded.

❥ He’s prone to overstimulating you. He enjoys the physical control. He might even ignore your pleas to stop for a second, getting lost in the sensation of power that comes from having you at his mercy.

❥ His stamina is lower when he’s angry. The adrenaline and lack of emotional control mean he burns out faster than usual, leaving him vulnerable and sometimes immediatey regretful after he finishes. He prefers positions where he doesn't have to look you in the eye.

𝑱𝒆𝒐𝒏 𝒀𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈-𝒃𝒊𝒏:

How does he make love?

❥ Yeong-bin has a very fragile ego. When he makes love to you, his primary goal is seeking your validation.

❥ His touch is possessive, he loves running his hands down your back and legs to feel like you are his. He’ll whisper things like “No one will ever love you like I do,” projecting his need for control. He actually enjoys it when you challenge him.

❥ His kisses are intense and a bit desperate. He is the kind of idiot who leaves marks on your neck just so everyone knows you were with him.

❥ He likes to finger you at a fast pace, watching your face constantly to ensure he has power over your pleasure. Honestly, he’s not a fan of giving oral and probably isn't good at it. You’d have to beg quite a bit for him to even consider it.

❥ His favorite position is the mating press, with your legs over his shoulders. He craves direct eye contact because he needs to see that he has your undivided attention.

❥ After, he is surprisingly clingy. He seeks refuge in you, snuggling up and letting you stroke his hair. Deep down, he’s terrified of being abandoned or humiliated. Once things calm down, he’ll offer you food or a shower. He hates when you have to leave, so he’ll playfully demand that you stay the night.

On the other hand… how does he fuck you rough?

❥ Rough sex with Yeong-bin happens when he’s had a bad day or feels humiliated by others. He takes it out on you to reclaim the sense of power he lost on the street or at school.

❥ He says very degrading things centered on his authority:

“Who’s in charge here?”

“Look at you, begging for more.”

❥ He’ll mock you if he notices you’re enjoying the roughness, using it to inflate his ego. He prefers you to be submissive in this mode; if you talk back, he’ll only get angrier.

❥ The pace is unpredictable. At first, he’ll go slow just to make you wait. Then he’ll become rough and erratic. It’s a pure display of force. He loves leaving bite marks or finger bruises... to him, they’re trophies of his dominance.

❥ When he’s jealous, he’s the type to wrap an arm around your neck in a suffocating way to mark his territory in front of others. In private, that jealousy translates to extremely possessive sex. He enjoys pushing you to your limit and then stopping just to watch you beg.

𝑲𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑾𝒐𝒐-𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈:

How does he make love?

❥ It doesn’t happen often, but when he lets his guard down, Woo-young treats you like his only safe haven. His touch is firm, and his hands, usually balled into fists, open up to trace your jawline with agonizing slowness.

❥ He’ll tell you things like “Stay like this,” or “Just look at me.” It’s possessive, but in a soft way. His kisses are deep, like he’s finally catching his breath.

❥ He is fairly neutral about giving oral, but since you told him you like it, he’s determined to be the best at it. Plus, he’s realized it’s a great way to relax you so you can take him more easily later.

❥ He’ll masturbate you with a steady rhythm, watching your face to see exactly what makes you lose it. He’ll start with one finger and slowly add more, testing how much you can take.

❥ He likes any position that allows for maximum body contact. He loves missionary for the control, spooning so he can whisper in your ear, and he loves it when you mount him so he can hold you. He just needs to confirm your attention is 100% on him.

❥ While he’s inside you, he’ll interlock his fingers with yours against the pillow or hold your face. He never lets go. He loves telling you how much he likes you, but in a rougher way:

“You’re incredible.”

“Look at what you’re like for me.”

❥ Aftercare wasn't a thing for him until he met you. Now, he finds it vital, though he’d never admit it. He feels vulnerable after making love, so he’ll bury his face in your neck for minutes at a time.

On the other hand… how does he fuck you rough?

❥ Rough sex usually stems from frustration. Woo-young has a serious problem with losing. If he’s had a bad day or felt inferior, he’ll use that fire in bed to feel powerful again.

❥ In this mode, he is a natural teaser. He’ll ask if you can keep up with his pace or if you’re ready to give up yet. He’ll tease you about your moans:

“Is that all you can handle?”

“Are you going to come that fast?”

❥ It’s not cruel, just a playful superiority that drives you crazy. The rhythm is rough and passionate, almost like he’s sparring with you.

❥ He’s fascinated by leaving marks. Bite marks on your collarbones or finger marks on your hips so that, the next day, you remember exactly who you belong to.

❥ When he’s jealous, his silent and dangerous vibe doesn't change... it just intensifies in the bedroom. He becomes much more vocal about the fact that you are his.

❥ He loves making you beg for an orgasm and will demand that you do so, threatening to pull out and leave you hanging. He’s never actually done it, but you’re not about to test him.

❥ His stamina actually increases when he’s rough. He can go for several rounds without losing intensity.

❥ When he’s in this mood, he wants you on your knees. He’ll use one hand to grip your hair and guide you. It gives him total control over your body. He’ll tilt your head back to make you look at him, relishing the sight of your flushed face and arched back, knowing he’s the one who put you there.

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑯𝒖-𝒎𝒊𝒏:

How does he make love?

❥ Baku is all pure love and warmth. With you, he’s incredibly careful, as if he’s terrified of breaking you with his large hands. His caresses are slow and steady; he loves tracing the line of your shoulders and back.

❥ He’ll whisper how much he adores you and how lucky he feels to have you. His kisses are deep, but he loves peppering your forehead and the tip of your nose with them between soft chuckles.

❥ He loves giving oral. It’s in his nature to be service-oriented with the people he loves. He’ll stop every now and then just to look you in the eyes and make sure you’re okay. To him, prepping you properly is an extension of taking care of you, but he ends up enjoying it as much as you do because seeing your pleasure is his greatest reward.

❥ He doesn't have a favorite position, anything where he can face you works. He craves eye contact and constant physical proximity.

❥ He loves the feeling of your breath against his neck... it always makes him smile. He’ll use his hands to cup your cheeks and tuck your hair behind your ears with a tenderness he shows no one else.

❥ He says sweet, slightly clumsy things like, "You're so amazing," or "I can't believe you're actually here with me." He’s very vocal about how much he admires you.

❥ During aftercare, he’ll carry you to the bathroom, help you clean up, and then wrap his arms around you like a human shield. He’ll likely order takeout, and you’ll fall asleep cuddled up while binge-watching a series.

On the other hand... how does he fuck you rough?

❥ When it happens, it’s never out of malice. Baku is deeply compassionate and would never take out external frustrations on you.

❥ Rough sex usually happens when he’s afraid of losing you... maybe after a heavy fight or when he sees that look of mixed anger and pity on your face after he’s been hurt in a brawl. It’s a release of raw, passionate energy.

❥ He’s not the type to degrade you, even then, but he will tease you about how much you tremble under him or how your eyes roll back. "Look at you... did you really need me that badly?" he’d murmur with an arrogant but lustful smirk.

❥ The pace is rough, passionate and powerful. However, there’s always a hint of romance in the way he seeks you out for a kiss in the middle of the chaos.

❥ And yes, he absolutely loves leaving marks all over your body. Baku is territorial but not toxic. In intimacy, he becomes much more dominant and possessive, claiming every inch of your skin to remind you who you belong to.

❥ He has incredible stamina and uses it to overstimulate you, he wants to see how much you’ll beg. But if he senses you’re actually in pain or truly distressed, his protective instinct kicks in immediately, and he’ll stop to comfort you.

❥ His favorite position for going rough is prone bone. He loves heavy body contact, pinning you down and taking you from behind. He’ll use his free hands to cup a breast or tilt your jaw back to force you to look at him.

𝑮𝒐 𝑯𝒚𝒖𝒏-𝒕𝒂𝒌:

How does he make love?

❥ Gotak is a ball of energy in daily life, but in bed, he’s surprisingly attentive. His absolute priority is making sure you feel cared for. His touch is warm and heavy with affection. He’ll whisper things like: "You're safe with me," or "You're the best thing I've got."

❥ His kisses are slow and deep, always lingering on your forehead or neck.

❥ He touches you with a playful curiosity, watching every reaction to learn exactly what makes you tick. He’s incredibly proud of his oral skills. If you finish just from his tongue, his ego hits the roof, and he’ll give you the most radiant smile in the world.

❥ He loves it when you mount him. First, because he needs to see you... Gotak is all about that visual connection. He also loves the skin-to-skin contact. Finally, he likes giving you control at the start, only to take it back once you’re tired.

❥ Afterward, you both usually pass out instantly from exhaustion. Aftercare for him is simply tangled limbs and deep sleep.

On the other hand... how does he fuck you rough?

❥ This happens fairly often, mostly because Gotak has a short fuse and you often offer to let him "take it out on you." He hates that phrase, but he loves what it leads to: hours of intense sex.

❥ He isn't the type to use cruel degradation, but he’ll talk back: "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" or "I bet you can't handle much more than this."

❥ Gotak has incredible tenacity, so the rhythm will be fast and unrelenting. He loves leaving marks, though he keeps them in places only the two of you can see.

❥ If he’s jealous, he gets very physical and much more possessive. He’ll claim you with a force that ensures the other person’s name is the last thing on your mind.

❥ Overstimulating you isn't always intentional, it’s often just a byproduct of how long it takes him to reach his own peak. You’ll be going until your legs give out and he’s still not tired.

❥ His favorite position for rough sex is from behind... whether it’s against a wall, over his desk or on all fours. He just loves the sight and feel of his body slamming against yours. He’ll grab your hair to pull your head back for a rough kiss or grip your hips so you can’t escape his pace.

𝑮𝒆𝒖𝒎 𝑺𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈-𝒋𝒆:

How does he make love?

❥ Just because he’s being "gentle" doesn't mean he’s going to be soft. It just means he takes his time to analyze your reactions. He studies your body and uses that knowledge to make you lose your mind.

❥ His touch is slow and provocative. During foreplay, he simply cannot keep his hands still. He’s not one for traditional sweet talk; instead, he’ll whisper how much he loves being the only one who gets to see you like this.

❥ His kisses are deep and possessive, mostly concentrated on your neck and jawline... marking his territory while enjoying the skin-to-skin contact.

❥ When he touches you, it’s with a torturous calm. He can spend minutes just teasing you, watching every reaction. He’ll often demand you say things like, "I'm yours."

❥ I don't think he’s naturally a fan of giving oral, but he’d give in without hesitation if you asked. You’ll have to teach him exactly what you like, and luckily, he’s a fast learner. His favorite part? Hearing you beg for more and watching his glasses fog up.

❥ His favorite position is having you on top. After the oral, he’ll let out a tired sigh and sit back against the headboard. He loves the visual of your chest against his face. He’ll smirk like an idiot when you take his face in your hands and smother him.

On the other hand... how does he fuck you rough?

❥ Rough sex is more frequent and usually follows a fight. It’s not about hate, but he needs to release that savage intensity to feel alive.

❥ His words get sharp. He’ll tease you and can be slightly degrading in a playful way that baits you into challenging him. If you push back in a way he doesn't like, though, he gets genuinely riled up.

❥ The pace is fast, passionate, and absolutely draining. He alternates between violent thrusts and a torturous slowness. He loves edging you just to see how much you can take before you break and beg to come.

❥ He loves leaving evidence: bite marks on your shoulders and finger-shaped bruises on your thighs that last for days.

❥ If he’s jealous in public, he’s cold and dismissive, keeping a heavy hand on your waist to mark his territory. In private, that coldness vanishes and turns into hours of sex that leave you on the verge of tears, ignoring your pleas to stop just so he can push you through one climax after another.

❥ He has superhuman stamina. He doesn't tire... in fact, the more you struggle, the more energy he seems to get. His favorite position is doggy style, but he’ll pin your hips down to keep you as flat as possible against the bed. He’ll grab your hair to force you to look back at him or grip your neck to remind you who’s in control.

𝑵𝒂 𝑩𝒂𝒆𝒌-𝒋𝒊𝒏:

How does he make love?

❥ When Baek-jin decides to be gentle, his usual coldness shifts into a meticulous focus on every inch of your skin. His touch isn't random, his long fingers glide over your collarbones and thighs as if he’s memorizing your anatomy.

❥ He leaves lingering kisses on the curve of your neck while whispering how perfect you are for him.

❥ He finds a quiet satisfaction in making you lose your composure. He takes all the time in the world with oral and manual play, ensuring you’re more than ready for him.

❥ Missionary is his favorite, but he’ll always ask you to wrap your legs around his waist to pull you closer. He insists on uninterrupted eye contact. While he thrusts rhythmically and deep, he will interlace his fingers with yours or cradle your face, forcing you to look at him as he confirms you are his.

❥ Words are scarce but heavy with meaning. He’ll praise your body’s response in a low, raspy tone, telling you how much he loves how receptive you are only for him.

❥ Aftercare is an extension of his need for order and protection. He’ll wrap you in the sheets or carry you to the bath with a delicacy that contrasts sharply with his public persona.

On the other hand... how does he fuck you rough?

❥ Rough sex isn't a daily occurrence, he usually vents his frustrations elsewhere. But if someone has tried to get too close to you, the "inevitable" is coming. He won't make a scene in public... he will just watch you with a glacial intensity that warns you the real conversation will happen behind closed doors.

❥ His rhythm is slow and punishing, a way to remind you who has absolute authority in the relationship. He uses his stamina to keep you on the edge, ignoring your pleas for him to go faster.

❥ He enjoys how your body shakes under his. He’s an expert at orgasm control, stopping the moment you’re about to peak just to watch your face contort in frustration. He’ll keep you in that state of absolute need until he decides you’ve learned your lesson.

❥ He prefers doggy style or any position where he can pin you down firmly. He loves the sight of your arched back and your hands immobilized against the mattress, using his strength to set a rough, breathless pace.

𝑩𝒂𝒆𝒌 𝑫𝒐𝒏𝒈-𝒉𝒂:

How does he make love?

❥ When he’s gentle, his mocking attitude turns into hypnotic focus. He treats you with unexpected delicacy, tracing your skin with his fingertips. His words are slow, whispered promises about how much you belong to him.

❥ His kisses are deep and show a devotion he’d never reveal in public. He’ll focus on the corners of your mouth and the arch of your neck, wanting to show you he only has eyes for you.

❥ Foreplay is essential. He enjoys the patience of prepping you, watching your face with that signature smirk, though this time it’s softened with genuine affection. He loves the power he has over your pleasure.

❥ Missionary is his favorite because of the eye contact and the ability to pin your hands above your head. He loves feeling your heartbeat against his and having one hand free to caress your cheek while telling you how beautiful you look when you're about to come.

On the other hand... how does he fuck you rough?

❥ Rough sex with him is intense. Forget any trace of tenderness. It usually happens because of accumulated tension or a spike in jealousy. He needs to re-establish his possession over you in a physical, overwhelming way.

❥ His language turns much cruder. He’ll mock how much you love the roughness and use degrading talk, calling you his "slut" or reminding you that no one else knows you like he does. He loves seeing you lose control and uses it to tease you further.

❥ The pace is relentless, it feels like he’s hammering you into the mattress. The only "romance" you’ll get is a bite on the shoulder or marks hidden where only the two of you know they exist.

❥ He is toxic to the point of getting into physical altercations with anyone who flirts with you. In private, that energy means the control is entirely his. He’ll overstimulate you until you’re begging for him to stop.

❥ Since he’s used to fighting and staying on his feet, he can go for hours without flagging. His favorite positions are doggy style or against a wall, where he can see your whole body and keep a firm grip on your hair or neck.

[nadloves]

MY FAVORITE WEAK HERO CLASS 1 & 2 FANFICT

Yeon Sieun

Yeon si-eun x reader

LOVE LESSONS

unspoken

After School Surprise Pt 1 , Pt 2

You 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝖨 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎

Don’t leave me behind

PARTY ON YOU Pt 1 , Pt 2 , Pt 3

sidelines

Not just friends

homework and heart

UNREQUITED Pt 1 , Pt 2

Ahn Suho

Oh Mama!

“Strike for Strike”

Stay a little longer

Just strong enough to love you

Go Hyuntak

go hyuntak boyfriend hcs

Not his girlfriend

Reconnection Pt 1 , Pt 2 , Pt 3

go hyuntak boyfriend hc's

Sickeningly in love literally.

Na Baekjin

before the storm

still, i choose you

Geum Seongje

Advice.. Pt 1 , Pt 2 , Pt 3 , Pt 4

collarless

let love bleed red

„Bite The Blade” Pt 1 - 8

❝ Love ❞ Pt 1 - 5

+ DISCOVER YOUR SECRETS Pt 1 - 5

+ YOU CARE SO MUCH

+ SIX FEET OF SMOKE AND SILENCE

Park Humin

Taking care of you

Oh Beomseok

afterglow

[chanifesto]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 mr. fix it | yeon sieun

pairing: yeon sieun x afab!reader (weak hero)

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

───── how do we feel about starting a taglist?

© chanifesto

[honeyscara]

❝ Teasing ❞ – Geum Seongje

-weak hero

Synopsis: You send your boyfriend an 'innocent' picture just to tease him

Content/content warnings: Explicit content, 18+ MDNI! Seongje × fem!reader, seongje being dominant, dirty talk, overstimulation, light restraint, strong language, soft aftercare.

~4k words Whc masterlist

Seongje sat straight-backed in the bowling room, the fluorescent lights above casting a cold glare on the polished table. His sharp eyes remained fixed on the flow of conversation, the words bouncing back and forth between Baekjin and some other union guys.

Then his phone buzzed.

Just once—short, deliberate. Barely noticeable to anyone else. But to Seongje, it was immediate. His fingers twitched subtly, reaching under the table to check the notification. One glance at the screen and his composure cracked, if only for a second.

It was from you.

He tapped it open.

A photo. A very familiar shirt. His shirt. The crisp white of his school uniform, oversized on you, buttoned only halfway. And nothing else in sight.

His breath caught in his throat.

The image was innocent enough—if someone didn’t know what they were looking at. But he knew. That was his uniform. That was his room. And that smug little smirk you wore in the photo? Fuck. you were doing this on purpose.

His jaw clenched, fingers tightening around the phone. You were messing with him. While he was in the middle of an important meeting with Baekjin of all people.

“Seongje?”

He blinked. Baekjin had stopped talking, his eyes narrowing slightly at Seongje’s sudden silence.

“I—” Seongje stood abruptly, sliding the chair back. “i need to take this”

He didn’t wait for a reply.

The moment he was out the door, he was already calling you, the phone pressed tight to his ear, his free hand raking through his hair as he stalked down the hallway.

The line clicked. “You think you’re fucking funny?” he muttered, voice low and dangerous.

Your laugh spilled through the line, light and sweet with a devilish edge. Seongje pressed his lips into a thin line, already feeling heat crawl up the back of his neck. He ducked into a quiet stairwell, leaning against the concrete wall, one hand braced against it as if the cool surface could ground him.

“You're not even wearing anything underneath, are you?” he asked, voice rough now, lower, darker. The image of you in his shirt—bare, a few undone buttons, that smirk—burned into his mind.

You sighed dramatically through the speaker. “Mmm… maybe just your cologne,” you murmured. “Smells like you. Feels like you too. Kinda wish it was you though…”

His grip on the phone tightened.

“Y/N,” he warned, but his voice betrayed him—already thick with need.

“What?” you purred. “You’re the one who left me all alone… I got bored. Thought I’d remind you what you’re missing.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, lips twitching into a smirk. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“Am I?” you whispered, sultry and sweet. “If you were here… what would you do, Seongje?”

He tilted his head back against the wall, jaw clenched. There was a long pause. You could hear the way he breathed—deep, heavy, trying to keep control.

His reply came slow, deliberate. “I’d make sure you couldn’t walk by the time I’m done.”

Your breath hitched, and he heard it—grinned at it.

“I’d pin you right against the bed wearing only that damn shirt,” he went on, voice now a smooth growl.

“And I wouldn’t even take it off. Just push it up, make you beg for more, make you say my name until your throat’s sore.”

You were silent now, biting your lip. The tension was electric even through the phone.Then Seongje chuckled—low, cocky.

“What? Quiet now? Thought you wanted to play.”

Your voice came out breathless, almost a whimper. “Seongje…”

He ran a hand through his hair again, composing himself just enough to speak clearly. “Just wait till I get back. Stay in that damn shirt and don't touch yourself,” he added firmly. “That’s mine to take care of.”

And before you could respond, the line cut—he’d hung up.

But not before whispering one last promise:

“Hope you can still talk by the time I’m done.”

.

.

.

Your heart had been racing since he hung up.

You did what he told you—stayed in his shirt, bare and mind spinning. The silence after the call was deafening, filled only by the distant ticking of the clock and the heavy thump of your pulse in your ears. Every second that passed just built up the tension, the anticipation.

Then came the knock. Sharp. Urgent.

Before you could fully process it, you were already moving, bare feet against the floor, hand trembling slightly as you reached for the door. You opened it—

And then you couldn’t even breathe.

Because Seongje didn’t say a word.

He didn’t smirk.

Didn’t greet you.

He grabbed you.

One arm snaked around your waist and shoved you inside as his other hand slammed the door shut behind him. The next thing you knew, your back hit the wall with a dull thud and your breath caught in your throat. His mouth was right there—hovering, dangerous, lips parted just slightly as his eyes scanned you, slow and hungry.

“You’re so fucking bold, huh?” he breathed out, voice low and rasped with restraint. “Wearing my shirt, sending me that shit during a meeting?” He laughed, but it wasn’t amused—it was dark, crazy, hungry.

His hands slid under the hem of the shirt, fingers grazing your bare skin. “You think I wouldn’t lose my fucking mind the second I saw that? You wanted me like this, didn’t you?”

You barely managed a word before his lips ghosted over yours—close enough to feel, not close enough to satisfy.

He smirked, tilting his head. “You gonna answer me, or you already too dumb to think?”

One of his legs slid between yours, pressing in just enough to make you shift, and his grip on your waist tightened.

“I rushed here,” he muttered, eyes dropping to your lips. “Didn’t even end the meeting with Baekjin. Just got up and left like a fucking maniac.”

Then, a pause—his eyes flicked back up to yours.

“Now you’re gonna pay for it.”

And with that, Seongje crashed his lips into yours like a wave breaking against a cliff—unrelenting, wild, needy. There was no softness in the way he kissed you, just raw heat and the taste of revenge for the hell you’d put him through. His hands gripped your hips with bruising force, pulling you flush against him like he couldn’t stand a single inch of space between your bodies.

You gasped into his mouth, and he took it as an opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue sliding past your lips with a growl low in his throat. He tasted like mint and something darker—bitten-back frustration, lust sharpened into chaos. The wall was cold at your back, but Seongje’s body was burning.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered against your lips, breathless as he kissed down the side of your jaw, his voice ragged. “Do you know what you did to me?”

You whimpered when his teeth grazed your neck, and he chuckled—completely unhinged and loving it.

“You remember what I said on the phone?”

You nodded, breath shaky. “Y-Yeah.”

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear as he whispered, voice dark and dangerous.

“Good. ‘Cause I’m about to do every single fucking thing I promised.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you again—his grin crooked, pupils blown wide, hair falling into his eyes.

“And baby, I hope you’ve got all night.”

Before you could even catch your breath, Seongje grabbed you by the back of the thighs and lifted you with ease. You yelped, arms instinctively wrapping around his shoulders as he carried you through the hallway like you weighed nothing, his mouth still attacking your neck with feverish kisses and the occasional bite that made your toes curl.

“You’re mine tonight,” he growled into your skin, lips dragging hot along your collarbone. “Mine to ruin, mine to fuck senseless, mine to hear screaming my name.”

He kicked the bedroom door open with his foot and didn’t slow down. The second your back hit the mattress, he was on you—hovering over you with that look in his eyes. That manic, beautiful kind of obsession that made your stomach twist and your thighs clench.

His hands yanked the shirt open, buttons popping and scattering across the sheets as he groaned at the sight underneath. “Fuck… just like that, baby. Just like I imagined.”

He didn’t give you a second to speak before pinning your wrists above your head with one hand, the other sliding down your body like he owned every inch of it.

“Remember what I said?” he rasped, lips ghosting over your jaw as his knee nudged your thighs apart. “How I’d pin you down, leave this shirt on, and make you beg?”

You nodded, chest heaving, lips parted in anticipation.

Seongje smirked—feral, cocky, dripping with heat. “Good. Then shut up and take it.”

And then he kissed you again—hard—as his body sank down against yours.

He didn’t waste time.

With your wrists still pinned above your head, Seongje leaned down and dragged his tongue slowly along the side of your neck, letting out a low, guttural groan that vibrated against your skin.

“Look at you,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear. “Already squirming and I haven’t even touched you properly yet.”

His free hand slid between your legs, palm pressing against the heat there through barely-there fabric. You bucked your hips up instinctively, but he just pressed harder—teasing.

“Uh-uh,” he clicked his tongue. “You don’t get to be impatient. You started this, baby. You don’t get to rush now.”

He kissed down your chest, nipping and licking as he went, only pulling away to rip the last remaining layer from your body like it offended him. His shirt hung open on your body, collar half-off your shoulder as you writhed beneath him, and he looked up at you with a crooked grin and wild eyes.

“God, you look so fucking good like this,” he muttered, sliding two fingers along your folds. “So wet for me already—were you touching yourself before I got here?”

Your breath hitched, and that was answer enough.

He laughed—deep and amused, but dark. “You’re unbelievable,” he growled,

Then his fingers sank into you—slow but deep, and you gasped, hips lifting off the bed, only for his palm to slam down on your thigh to hold you still.

“Stay the fuck down,” he snarled, pace quickening. “I said I’d make you beg, didn’t I?”

He curled his fingers just right, brushing that spot inside you that made your vision blur, and you cried out his name.

Seongje leaned down, licking over your bottom lip before biting it. “That’s it. Moan louder. Let the whole damn neighborhood know who’s making you feel this good.”

His fingers picked up a brutal rhythm, and you were already close—your body shaking, nerves on fire, your moans getting desperate.

But just when you were about to fall apart, he pulled away.

“Wha—Seongje!”

He smirked, licking his fingers slow. “Tasted too good to let you cum that easy, babe.”

Your body was trembling—slick, sensitive, and on the edge of unraveling. Every nerve screamed for release, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you looked up at him, eyes glassy with need.

But Seongje just watched you for a second—his head tilted, lips parted slightly, pupils blown so wide you could barely see the brown in his eyes anymore. His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, the veins in his forearms flexing as he braced himself above you, hand still glistening from your arousal.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice low and ruined, almost awed. “Completely wrecked and I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

He leaned in, dragging his fingers up your thigh—slow, deliberate, possessive. “You feel that?” he asked, letting two fingers press lightly against your core again, not pushing in this time, just resting there to tease. “All this wet, this mess… this is mine.”

You whimpered, hips twitching, eyes begging for more.

That crooked, cocky smirk returned to his face—half dangerous, half starving. He leaned closer, his nose brushing yours.

“Good,” he whispered, his voice like silk over steel. “Because I’m about to ruin you.”

Then, finally, he sat up just enough to reach down—and with slow, sharp precision, undid his belt. The leather unbuckled with a soft snap, followed by the low clink of metal that made your breath hitch. His eyes never left yours as he slid the belt out of its loops, letting it drop to the floor with a heavy thud.

“I’ve been thinking about this since the second you sent that photo,” he muttered, his tone dark and husky. “And now that I’ve got you right where I want you…”

His fingers trailed down your chest again, this time with intent.

“Now I’m gonna fuck you like I promised”

He shoved his pants down just far enough to free himself, thick and already rock hard, veins prominent, tip flushed and glistening. The sight alone made your thighs tremble—and Seongje noticed.

“Shit, you’re shaking already?” he huffed out a laugh, gripping himself at the base and giving a slow, teasing stroke while watching your every twitch. “Poor baby. You gonna cry when I stretch you out?”

Your breath caught, and he grinned like the devil.

He settled between your legs, grabbing your thighs and dragging you down the bed until your hips were at the edge of the mattress. “Keep those eyes on me,” he growled, lining himself up. “I wanna see your face when I slide into this perfect pussy.”

And then—fuck—he pushed in.

He didn’t go slow. No warning. No mercy.

You gasped—back arching, mouth falling open—as he bottomed out in one deep, possessive thrust that stole every thought from your head.

“Shit,” Seongje groaned, voice cracking with restraint. “You’re so fucking tight—gripping me like you missed this.”

He gave you no time to adjust. He pulled back and snapped his hips forward again, setting a brutal rhythm that made the bed frame slam into the wall and your moans turn to choked cries.

One hand grabbed your throat—not squeezing, just resting there, claiming—and the other pressed down on your hip, pinning you in place as he fucked into you like a man possessed.

“This what you wanted, huh?” he growled between ragged breaths. “You wear my shirt, send me that filthy little pic while I’m in a fucking meeting, knowing damn well I’d lose my mind?”

His hips slammed into yours harder.

“You wanted this,” he hissed, leaning down, sweat-slicked skin against yours. “Wanted me out of my mind, fucking you into the mattress like an animal.”

You couldn’t even answer—just desperate moans and breathless nods as he ruined you in the best way possible. Seongje kissed you again—biting your lip this time, tongue sliding hot and needy into your mouth as he fucked you through every word he promised on that call.

“I told you,” he whispered against your lips. “You were gonna regret teasing me.”

Then he slammed into you again, and again—and you knew…You were going to feel this for days.

"Fuck– seongje.."

You were already falling apart—legs shaking, throat hoarse from moaning his name like a prayer, your nails digging into the sheets for any kind of grounding. But Seongje wasn’t even close to done.

He could feel your walls fluttering around him, could see the way your eyes were rolling back just before you came—and he loved it.

“Fuck—there it is,” he hissed, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to look at him. “Cum for me. Right now.”

And you did.

Your body arched violently, pleasure crashing through you in waves, pulse pounding in your ears, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes from the sheer intensity of it all.

But Seongje didn’t stop.

“Ah—wait—!” you gasped, trembling beneath him, overstimulated and still twitching.

“Oh no, sweetheart,” he growled, voice rough and wrecked as he kept thrusting into your oversensitive core. “You’re not done. I said I was gonna ruin you, remember?”

He was relentless—slamming into you at a punishing pace, watching your face twist in pleasure-laced agony. Your hands scrambled for his arms, anything to slow him down, but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head again.

“Take it,” he snarled, sweat dripping from his temple as he leaned in.

You were babbling now—words lost, cries spilling from your throat as the overstimulation pushed you past the edge again, this orgasm hitting harder, shaking your entire body.

“Fucking hell,” Seongje gasped, eyes dark, wild, obsessed. “You’re still clenching—shit, you like this, don’t you? Getting fucked dumb—my perfect little mess.”

You didn’t know how you had anything left to give. Your body felt like it had been set on fire and then thrown into bliss—shaking, overstimulated, soaked. But when Seongje leaned over you again, sweat-damp hair falling into his eyes, lips brushing against your jaw, you couldn’t help the way your hips lifted for him again.

“Good fucking girl,” he breathed, kissing the side of your face, still grinding into you—slower now, but deeper, cruel in how perfectly he hit that spot that made you cry out. “Still moving for me. You’re so damn pretty when you break.”

Your hands fumbled up his back, weak and twitching, fingers digging into his slick skin. “Seongje—s’too much—gonna—”

“One more,” he panted against your lips. “Just one more, baby. C’mon. Let me feel you fall apart one more time.”

And when he snaked a hand down between your bodies to rub your overstimulated clit—fast, precise, unforgiving—you screamed.

It hit hard, too hard—your thighs clamped around him, your body arching off the mattress like you’d been shocked, and your voice cracked into a sob as you came with a force that made everything go white.

Seongje cursed under his breath—“Fuck, fuck, that’s it—” and with one last, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you and came hard, groaning your name like it was the only thing keeping him together.

He stayed there for a moment—both of you breathless, tangled, and shaking—before he finally moved.

“Shit,” he murmured, brushing sweaty strands of hair from your forehead. His tone had changed now—lower, softer, laced with something achingly tender. “You okay, baby?”

You could barely nod, your voice gone, lips parted in a dazed smile.

Seongje pulled out slowly—whispering apologies as you whimpered at the sensitivity—and then reached down, gently wiping between your legs with the shirt he’d thrown off earlier. He kissed your thighs afterward like they were sacred, then crawled up beside you, arms wrapping around your spent body.

“Damn… look at you,” he whispered into your hair, pulling the blanket over both of you. “You’re everything”

His lips pressed against your forehead.

“I got you. Always.”

And he held you close, fingers tracing soft circles into your back as your heartbeat slowed, the world quieting into warmth and safety in his arms.

You didn’t know how long you lay there wrapped in him—your cheek pressed to his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, his fingers lazily combing through your hair. You’d melted into him completely, your body boneless and buzzing in the aftermath.

“You still breathing, princess?” Seongje murmured with a soft laugh, brushing a kiss to your temple.

You made a noise that was somewhere between a hum and a whimper.

“Didn’t mean to wreck you that bad,” he teased, shifting slightly so he could look down at you. “Actually… nah. I did. You looked so fucking good begging under me, baby.”

He grinned as you weakly smacked his chest, then caught your hand and kissed your knuckles. “Alright, alright. You earned it. Stay right here.”

Before you could argue, he was already sliding out of bed, grabbing a pair of joggers and padding out of the room—muttering something about "taking care of his girl."

Ten minutes later, he came back with a tray: cold water, your favorite snack, a warm damp towel, and the softest oversized hoodie he owned.

He placed the tray carefully beside you, then sat on the bed and opened his arms. “C’mere, baby.”

You let him pull you into his lap, hoodie first, then a kiss on your cheek, then he fed you a bite of the snack with a satisfied smile like he’d just scored a victory.

“You looked so pretty in my shirt earlier,” he said between sips of water he handed you. “But this look?” He ran a hand down your bare thigh, where it peeked out from under his hoodie. “Post-sex glow, legs shaking, wearing my clothes—fuck, I’m obsessed with you.”

You laughed tiredly, cheeks burning. “You’re ridiculous.”

Seongje grinned. “Only for you.”

He nuzzled into your neck, breathing you in, arms wrapped tight around you as he whispered, “No one else gets this. No one else gets you. I’m gonna take care of you so well, baby. Always.”

And he meant it.

Because to Seongje, spoiling you wasn’t just about snacks or kisses—it was about worshipping you in every way. Even if that meant holding you for hours, stroking your hair until you fell asleep against his chest, protected and loved, exactly where you belonged.

[sknyuz]

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

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[yvesinc]

- I have to go. - To those friends?

Weak Hero Class 2 (2025)

[yversz]

hi cecil! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

what about whc headcanons/short separated scenarios with maybe how the boys would react when they get caught making out with the reader by someone else? :P (for example seongje getting caught by baekjin in baekjin’s office or something bhaha, i’m sure you’re gonna have good ideas yourself!) id just ask to preferably include seongje and beomseok (っᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈ ς) tysm!!

⋆ WHC1&2︱HEADCANONS

🌿 whc boys being caught making out with you.

characters go hyuntak, oh beomseok, geum seongje

cws none, gender neutral reader

notes this was lowkey so fun to write, i hope u like it...... requests are open guys feed me feed me... we are the yverszlings, please feed us.... I might make a part 2 for this... follow me for a part 2 (im follower baiting)

taglist @ylvra @veezdiary @aliceskzfan @sunshine-sun42 @ggreadcghyeeas @oyasumiaikko hmu if you want to be on here

' we're all trapped in a maze of relationships '

🌿 GO HYUNTAK !

⋆ hyuntak doesn't make out in spaces where the two of you could get caught. there's no issue with small kisses and holding hands, but anything that goes too far, he prefers to keep in his room. but even there, he isn't safe from the embarrassment of getting caught..

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ you were on top of hyuntak, his hands resting on your waist as he slid his tongue into your mouth, lips moving against each other.

he had asked you over with the excuse of studying together, although both of you knew that you wouldn't be able to keep your hands to yourself for long. it was always that way with him, after all, even when hyuntak tried his best to genuinely focus for once.

you moved your mouth to plant small kisses on his jawline, then down his neck before going up to his mouth again with a grin.

hyuntak mimicked your expression, a mischievous look in his eyes as he suddenly flipped you around, rolling on top of you before attaching his lips to yours again.

you laughed against him, arms wrapped around your boyfriend's neck as your hands found themselves in his hair, fingers gently scratching against his scalp as you kissed him.

there was a ring coming from the doorbell, but you both pointedly ignored the sound in favour of kissing, trusting his mother to open for whoever was standing down there.

you had both almost forgotten about the fact that someone could have entered the house— focus only on each other— until all of a sudden, hyuntak's door burst open.

hyuntak scrambled to get off of you the second he realised, staring at the intruder with swollen lips and messy hair that would have given away what you had been doing anyway, although it was rather obvious even without that.

"baku, you idiot!", hyuntak yelled as he took a pillow and threw it at his friend who was standing on front of you, who in return just swatted it away with a laugh.

"hi [name]", humin greeted you, taking the pillow from the floor and throwing it back at your boyfriend with twice the force hyuntak had thrown it with. this time it actually hit him.

it just made hyuntak more furious, who had already got up and started arguing with humin, trying to push him out of his room.

baku didn't seem to mind much, raising his hands in defeat as he stepped backwards, talking about how he would just text hyuntak later.

hyuntak closed the door behind him, sighing and turning back towards you once he was sure humin wouldn't come back.

you laughed at the annoyed look on his face, motioning for hyuntak to come back to you again, which he obeyed to without any complaints.

resting his head on your chest, he wrapped his arms around your body, quietly muttering about how much of an idiot humin was, before pressing his face against your body to stop himself from talking more and getting to worked up over it.

you brushed your fingers through strands of his hair as you watched his breathing slow down and his body relax into the touch, eventually closing his eyes after a while.

🌿 OH BEOMSEOK !

⋆ beomseok is... rather shy about kissing anywhere where the two of you might get caught, but sometimes there was simply no time to go home first to make sure no one would interrupt. sometimes he just needed you close.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ beomseok had been at the karaoke place with sieun and suho on a friday evening, but things had been off from the beginning.

not with the others. there was no issue with them, but rather with beomseok's mood today.

understatement, actually. he had been doing like shit for the entire week, and being with sieun and suho, while partly a relief, was simply too overwhelming to bare with right now.

that's why he had texted you.

just texted, not even with the intention of you dropping everything and coming to where he was, but you had done it regardless. had come for him, just because he wasn't feeling well. it's had brought a smile to his face, knowing how much you cared.

it's how the two of you had ended up just around the corner behind the vending machine.

it was rare for anyone to walk there, so it was quiet enough for beomseok to calm down, and also private enough for some kissing without having to fear getting interrupt.

you had your arms wrapped around his neck, back to the wall as beomseok's lips slowly moved against yours, not rushing at all. he wasn't eager to go back, and suho and sieun surely could manage without him for a while.

beomseok's arms were around your waist, holding you close to him, feeling the warmth of your body against his own.

it was relaxing. having you around, finally feeling at ease and like he didn't have to be on edge anymore. his worries were long forgotten when there were more important things to focus on.

well, that was until you did get interrupted.

it was a public space after all.

"beomseok, are you he— oh!"

suho was standing in the hallway now, the awkwardness of the situation reflecting on his face as beomseok quickly pulled away from you, almost jumping to the other side of the hallway.

his hands were behind his back, fidgeting with his fingers as he stammered to explain himself, although no actual words came out of his mouth.

you greeted suho with an awkward wave, eyeing your boyfriend who had decided to give up on speaking in favour of dragging his hand down his flushed face, avoiding eye contact with suho especially.

suho waved back, biting his lip as he looked at beomseok, obviously just as much at a lack of words than the other was.

"uh, I'll just go back to sieun and... leave you two alone—", he eventually said, already turning away, before stopping and looking at beomseok again.

"take your time and just bring [name] with you once you're done", he added, before finally walking off and leaving the two of you alone again.

you let out a small laugh, before carefully stepping closer to beomseok, intertwining your fingers with his as you pulled him towards you.

you brushed a few strands of hair out of his face first before speaking up again, giving him the time to calm down.

"let's just... go back to them and hope suho doesn't bring it up again", you said with a grin.

beomseok nodded in return, face still red but a small smile spreading on his face as he pulled you into another short kiss.

🌿 GEUM SEONGJE !

⋆ against common belief, seongje isn't necessarily fond of making out in public. he doesn't want anyone else to get to see you the way he does.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ the two of you hadn't seen each other in a while. the fault of seongje's stupid involvement with the union had kept him too busy to make some time for you, so it was quite a relief to finally get to see him after a long week.

well, it was in na baekjin's office, which still meant that the union would get in the way again soon, but you took what you got if it meant getting to see your boyfriend.

seongje's lips had been on yours the moment you two had had some privacy, pulling you on top of his lap as he sat down on the sofa of baekjin's office.

he was just as desperate to be close as you were, hands roaming over your body as he nibbled on your lower lip. his tongue slid into your mouth, making you gasp in response.

you were grateful to finally have seongje for yourself, bathing in the sound of the small sounds he let out. you smiled against his lips as his hand slid underneath your shirt, rubbing your back and making you shudder at the contact.

you had known what you had gotten yourself into by dating him— the violence he lived with and the danger of his involvement in all this— but you hadn't taken into account just how busy he could get. it was so frustrating sometimes, having to be satisfied with a few messages every few hours but nothing more.

you had simply missed him a lot.

it was easy to forget where the two of you were when you were together, but you were pulled out of the moment as the door opened, baekjin entering and simply staring at the two of you with a sigh.

you tried to get off seongje and sit down next to him, but he held you in place. his eyes followed baekjin who wordlessly sat down in his chair, taking out a few papers from a drawer as he got to work.

he did not bother granting you his attention, giving the two of you a few more minutes of time to yourself before he stole seongje away from you again.

it was surprisingly kind, although it didn't make the situation at hand less awkward.

seongje pulled you into another kiss, trusting that baekjin would not care enough anyway to look up and watch the two of you.

it was less heated than before, lips moving against yours in a gentle rhythm as his hand held the back of your head, holding you close.

it felt different with the knowledge that someone else was in the room, but you tried your best to ignore it in favour of focusing on your boyfriend.

baekjin cleared his throat after a few more minutes, your signal that it was time to stop and let seongje focus on 'more important' things again.

he finally let you get off him with an annoyed sigh, letting you lean against his shoulder as he turned towards baekjin to get to work.

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