Toshyun Writes

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[toshyunnn]

Hello Friends!

After a week and a half of waiting, I have finally been let back into this account! However, I have actually been posting on a new main account, so this blog will become inactive. If you enjoyed these three stories you can find me over there @toshyun!

Thank you for the support :)

[toshyun]

Afterglow

IVE's An Yujin x Male Reader

4.4k words

Hello all! I present to you my submission for our server's latest prompt challenge, where my task was to write a story using the time of sunset, and the added challenge of "The story must open with the end of the time duration, then rewind to the beginning and play through again".

Hope you guys like it <3

~~~

"You lasted longer than I thought you would," she says between breaths, and even now—completely fucked out, thighs still trembling—she's got that fucking pleased little smirk on her face.

You don't have the energy to respond, just managing to flip her the bird while you stare at the ceiling, pulse still racing. 

There are scratches down your back that sting when you shift position, her nails having carved you up badly when you'd finally pinned her against the mattress.

The sheets are ruined—no saving them. Not with the mix of sweat, cum, and whatever's left of Yujin's makeup smeared across the fabric. She's sprawled beside you, chest still heaving, her hair a complete disaster fanned across the pillow. Her sundress is crumpled by the door, one strap torn clean off.

Yujin rolls onto her side to face you, and you can see the aftermath of everything that just happened all over her body. Her lipstick is smeared from her mouth to her jaw, dark bruises already forming on her neck and collarbones. Cum is still leaking from between her thighs, making a mess on skin that's flushed and marked with your fingerprints.

"Worth it though, right?" She traces a finger down your chest, lazy and satisfied, like she's admiring her handiwork.

"You're impossible," you finally manage.

"You love it."

She's not wrong.

~~~

Six hours earlier, you'd been stupid enough to think this would be a normal date.

Yujin had texted you that morning with a simple "pick me up at 2 <3" and you'd thought—fine, easy. Lunch, maybe walk around, watch the sunset over dinner. Standard relationship stuff. You should've known better the second you pulled up and saw what she was wearing.

The sundress is light blue, thin cotton that does absolutely nothing to hide the fact she's not wearing a bra. It hugs her waist before flowing down to mid-thigh, and when she bounces over to the car, you can see everything move in ways that make it very clear she planned this outfit specifically to fuck with you.

It's working.

"Hi baby," she says sweetly, sliding into the passenger seat and leaning over to kiss your cheek. Innocent enough, except her hand lands directly on your thigh and stays there while she buckles her seatbelt.

"You're evil," you tell her.

"I'm adorable." She grins, adjusting the dress that's already riding up her thighs. "Where are we going?"

"That café you wanted to try."

The drive is only ten minutes, but Yujin makes it feel like an hour. Her hand doesn't leave your thigh, fingers tracing lazy patterns while she chatters about her week. Every time you glance over, she's doing something designed to distract you—adjusting her hair so the dress pulls tighter across her chest, crossing and uncrossing her legs, biting her bottom lip while she looks out the window.

At the café, she orders an iced vanilla latte and immediately wraps her lips around the straw in a way that's just absolutely not necessary for drinking coffee.

You watch her take a slow sip, eyes locked on yours.

"What?" she asks, like she doesn't know exactly what she's doing.

"Nothing," you mutter, taking a drink of your own coffee and trying to focus on literally anything else.

She leans forward on her elbows, and the neckline of her dress dips low enough that you can see the curve of her tits. "You seem tense."

"I'm fine."

"Mm." She doesn't believe you, and that little smirk says she knows exactly why you're tense.

You finish your coffees and decide to walk through the nearby park since the weather's nice and you're clearly a masochist. Yujin loops her arm through yours, pressing close enough that you can feel the heat of her body through that thin dress.

"Isn't this romantic?" she says, full of fake innocence as her free hand traces up your arm.

"Very," you say flatly.

She's already sliding that hand down, lacing her fingers with yours, bringing your joined hands to rest at her hip where the dress cinches.

The park is busier than you expected—couples on blankets, families with kids, people walking dogs. Yujin doesn't seem to care. She steers you toward a quieter path lined with trees, and the second you're out of immediate sight, she stops and turns to face you.

"I want a picture," she announces, already pulling out her phone.

"You take like fifty pictures a day."

"And I'm going to take fifty-one." She steps close, arm around your waist, phone up for a selfie. You're about to smile when her ass presses back against your crotch—a deliberate roll of her hips.

You grab her waist on reflex.

The camera clicks.

Wow. That is not a graceful expression.

"Perfect," she says, grinning at the photo before tucking the phone away.

She doesn't move away from you. You don't let go of her waist. She leans her head back against your shoulder.

"You're being very well-behaved so far."

"I'm being patient."

"And how long do you think that'll last?" She turns in your arms, and suddenly you're face to face with her, close enough to kiss. Her hands slide up your chest, fingers playing with the collar of your shirt. You can smell her perfume, feel her breath against your mouth.

"Yujin—"

"What?" Those big, innocent eyes blink at you, like she's never done a thing wrong her entire life. Her thigh presses between your legs, just enough pressure to make her point. "We're just taking pictures, baby."

Someone walks past on the main path and you step back, mostly to maintain some semblance of dignity in public. Yujin just laughs, bright and delighted, before grabbing your hand and pulling you back toward the park exit.

"Come on, I want to look at the shops before dinner."

The boutique she drags you into is small, full of expensive clothes and a bored-looking attendant who barely glances up when you enter. Yujin immediately starts browsing through racks, pulling out dresses and holding them up against her body.

"What do you think of this one?" A black one that would barely cover her ass.

"It's short."

"That's not a no." She grins and drapes it over her arm, moving to the next rack. You follow behind. Her fingers trail over the different materials, hips swaying just a little more than necessary.

She disappears into the dressing room with three dresses, and you lean against the wall outside to wait. The curtain doesn't close all the way—you can see flashes of movement, the sundress pooling at her feet. Then her hand appears, crooking a finger at you.

"I need a second opinion," she calls out.

You glance at the attendant, who's fully absorbed in her phone, and slip behind the curtain.

Yujin is standing in just her panties. Holding up one of the dresses in front of her body.

Not wearing it.

The dressing room mirror shows everything—the curve of her bare tits, those panties sitting low on her hips, the cheeky smile that says she knows exactly what she’s doing.

"Well?"

"You're not even wearing it," you point out.

"I wanted to see your reaction first." She drops the dress entirely, closing the small distance between you. Her hands find your belt, fingers tracing the leather. "Are you going to do something about it?"

"There's a person right outside."

"So you'll have to be quiet." She's already popping the button on your jeans, and fuck, her hand sliding into your boxers is not helping your resolve.

You grab her wrist, stopping her before this gets completely out of hand. "Get dressed. We have dinner reservations."

The look she gives you is pure frustration, but there's need underneath it. "You're no fun."

"I'm RESPONSIBLE."

"I don't like responsible," she pouts, but she lets you pull her hand away and picks the sundress back up. You slip out before you do something stupid.

She emerges a minute later. Doesn't buy any of the clothes she tried on.

She does, however, grab your ass when you're walking out of the store.

"An Yujin."

"Hand slipped!"

The restaurant is one of those places with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the water. You'd picked it specifically because Yujin mentioned wanting to watch the sunset over dinner.

Romantic as hell. Seemed like a good idea this morning.

You’re having second thoughts.

The golden light of the sunset coming through the windows catches in Yujin's hair when she sits down, makes her skin glow in a way that's entirely unfair. She's gorgeous in normal lighting, but with a sunset behind her she looks… unreal.

"This place is beautiful," she says, and she actually sounds genuine for once, looking out at the water where the sun is starting to paint the sky in shades of orange and pink.

"Yeah," you manage, trying to focus on your own menu and not the way the light is hitting her.

The waiter comes by and you both order—she gets the salmon, you get the steak, and she requests a wine she definitely can't pronounce but sounds expensive. (She knows you’re paying, after all).  She's suspiciously polite, ordering without any funny business.

Then the waiter leaves and you feel her foot slide up your calf.

"Yujin."

"What?" She’s staring at the sunset like she’s never done a thing wrong in her life.

"We're in public."

"I'm just getting comfortable." She blinks at you as her foot reaches your thigh and stays there, and you become very aware of how thin her dress is, how the sunset behind her makes it… almost see-through in places…

The wine arrives and she takes a slow sip, eyes on you over the rim of the glass. When she sets it down, her hand disappears under the table, and a second later you feel her fingers on your knee, sliding up your thigh with clear intent.

"Can't you just wait for the food," you plead, grabbing her wrist under the table.

"I'm not hungry for food." She leans forward, and the neckline of her dress dips dangerously low. The sunset behind her creates this halo effect that would be romantic if she wasn't currently trying to get her hand on your cock in a public restaurant.

You don't let go of her wrist, keeping her hand firmly on your thigh and nowhere else. "Behave."

"Make me," she says, and there's that fucking smirk again.

The food arrives. You let go of her hand so the waiter can set down the plates.

Yujin thanks him sweetly. He's barely gone before her hand is back—making it all the way to your crotch before you can stop her.

She palms you through your jeans, and fuck, you're already half-hard from her teasing all day. Her fingers trace the outline of your cock while she cuts into her salmon with her other hand like nothing's happening.

"How's your food?" she asks conversationally.

"Yujin, I swear to god—"

"You should try the salmon, it's really good." She takes a bite, and her hand squeezes you just enough to make you bite back a groan.

The sun is almost touching the horizon now, the entire sky turning brilliant shades of orange and red. The light hits her face and she looks like a fucking angel. 

An evil little cock-teasing angel who’s decided getting you off under the table is way more fun than eating.

"You're so hard already," she murmurs, leaning closer like she's sharing a secret. Her hand works you through the denim, and you're trying to keep your expression neutral while she's clearly enjoying watching you struggle.

"Stop," you say, but it comes out strained.

"You don't want me to stop." Her thumb finds the head of your cock through your jeans, rubbing in slow circles. "You've been wanting to fuck me since I got in your car."

She's not wrong, and you're done.

You grab her wrist, pull her hand away. Harder than necessary. "We're leaving."

"But we haven't finished—"

"Now, Yujin."

Pure triumph on her face. This is exactly what she wanted.

She doesn't argue, just grabs her purse while you flag down the waiter and hand him your card without even looking at the bill.

The sun is halfway below the horizon when you walk out, the sky on fire with color, and Yujin is practically skipping to the car.

She beats you to the passenger side, slides in with that pleased smile still on her face.

You're barely in the driver's seat. She's already leaning over the center console, hand on your thigh again.

"That was mean," she says, not sounding very sorry at all.

"You started it." You turn the key and pull out of the parking lot faster than necessary, and the sky is deepening now—brilliant orange fading to pink and purple at the edges.

"So you're admitting I won?"

"I'm admitting I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk."

The way her breath catches is supremely satisfying, but she recovers quick. "Promises, promises."

Her hand slides higher on your thigh and you grab it, pinning it in place. "You're going to make me crash."

"Then drive faster."

"You… want me to make our crash worse?"

"Just drive, idiot!"

The sunset is in your rearview mirror now, the sky ahead darker where night is already creeping in. You make it maybe two minutes before her other hand finds your belt, and you have to move your grip to catch that one too.

"Yujin."

"What? I'm just sitting here." She's absolutely not just sitting there—she's shifted in her seat so that dress is riding up her thighs, and when you glance over at a red light, you can see the lace edge of her panties.

"You're insane."

"You love it," she says again, and manages to get one hand free to palm you through your jeans. You're fully hard now, have been since the restaurant, and her touch makes you grip the steering wheel hard enough that your knuckles go white.

The light turns green. You have to let go of her to shift gears.

She takes full advantage—gets the button of your jeans open before you can stop her.

"Jesus Christ, Yujin—"

"Keep your eyes on the road, baby." Her hand slips into your boxers, fingers wrapping around your cock, and the feeling of her actually touching you after hours of teasing makes you groan.

You catch her wrist but don't pull her away, too far gone to pretend you don't want this. The sky outside is streaked with the last colors of sunset, deep purple and orange, and her hand is stroking you slowly while you're trying to drive through downtown traffic.

"Let me reiterate. You, me, a semi-truck, all meeting in less than a second if you don't get your stupidly smooth hand off my cock."

She laughs but settles back in her seat, pulling her hand away with clear reluctance. You make it three more blocks before you have to pull over at another red light, and the second the car stops you're hauling her in for a kiss.

It's messy and desperate, her mouth opening for you immediately, and your hand finds her thigh, pushing that dress up until you can feel the heat of her through those thin panties. She's soaked, and when you press against her she makes this needy sound that goes straight to your cock.

Someone honks behind you and you realize the light's green.

"Fuck," you mutter, pulling back and trying to focus on driving. Your hand stays on her thigh though, high enough that your fingers brush against the lace edge of her panties every time you shift.

The sun is gone now, just the afterglow painting the sky, and you can see your building up ahead. Yujin sees it too, and her hand goes right back to your cock, stroking you through your open jeans.

"Almost there," she purrs, and you don't know if she means the building or something else entirely.

You pull into your spot and kill the engine, and then you're both out of the car and you're crowding her against the door, kissing her hard while she fumbles with your keys. She gets the door open and you're inside, kicking it shut behind you, and her back hits the wall in the entryway.

"Now?" she asks breathlessly, and there's triumph in her voice even now.

You don't even dignify her with an answer.

The dress hits the floor before you've even moved away from the door, and Yujin's hands are already pulling at your shirt, yanking it over your head while you work your jeans down. She's in just those lace panties now, and you can see the wet spot where she's been soaked for hours.

"Took you long enough," she breathes, but you shut her up by shoving her harder against the wall and kissing her like you're trying to devour her whole.

Your hand slides between her legs, fingers pressing against the soaked lace, and she gasps into your mouth. "You've been wet all fucking day, haven't you?"

"Since the car," she admits, hips rolling against your hand. "Maybe before."

You hook your fingers in her panties and drag them down her legs, and the second they're off you're dropping to your knees. Her eyes go wide.

"Wait, I thought you were going to—oh fuck!"

Your mouth is on her pussy before she can finish the sentence. Tongue dragging through her folds.

She tastes as good as she looks.

Your hands grip her thighs, holding her against the wall while you eat her out like you're starving for it. Maybe you are, after the torture she's put you through today.

"Oh god, oh f-fuck, yes—" Her hands fist in your hair, and she's trying to grind against your face, shameless and desperate. You focus on her clit, sucking it between your lips, and her whole body jerks.

"Right there, don't stop, please don't fucking stop—"

You don't. You work her with your tongue until her thighs are shaking, until she's practically sobbing, and when she cums it's with your name broken on her lips and her pussy clenching against nothing.

She's still trembling when you stand up and kiss her, letting her taste herself on your tongue. "Bedroom. Now."

"Fuck the bedroom," she pants, already reaching for your cock. "Right here."

Her hand wraps around you and strokes, and you're so fucking hard it almost hurts. But you catch her wrist, spin her around so she's facing the wall, and kick her legs apart.

"You wanted this so badly," you growl against her ear, lining yourself up. "So take it."

You push into her in one thrust and she cries out, hands splaying against the wall for balance. She's so wet and tight that you have to pause, breathing hard, trying not to cum immediately like a teenager.

"Move," she demands, pushing her hips back. "Fuck me already."

"Greedy, aren't we?"

You pull out and slam back in, and the sound she makes is perfect—broken and needy and so fucking desperate. You set a brutal pace, one hand on her hip and the other sliding up to grip her throat, not squeezing, just holding her in place while you fuck up into her.

"Yes, yes, fuck, harder—"

The angle is incredible, and you can feel her getting wetter with every thrust, slick dripping down her thighs. Your grip tightens on her hip, hard enough to leave marks, and she loves it, pushing back to meet you.

"Is this what you wanted?" you ask, voice rough. "Teasing me all day just so I'd fuck you like this?"

"Yes," she gasps. "Knew you'd—ah!—knew you'd s-snap eventually."

You pull out suddenly. She whines at the loss.

Then you're turning her around, lifting her up. Her legs wrap around your waist automatically. You push back inside her, using the wall for leverage.

"Oh fuck, so deep—" Her nails dig into your shoulders, and you can feel her pussy clenching around you, tight and perfect.

You kiss her while you fuck her, messy and hard, and she's moaning into your mouth. The angle has you hitting the spot inside that makes her gasp every time, and her tits are pressed against your chest, nipples hard.

"Gonna cum again," she warns, "don't stop, please—"

"Cum on my cock," you tell her. "Let me feel it."

She does, her whole body tensing and then releasing, pussy spasming around you in a way that almost takes you over the edge. You carry her to the couch—fuck the bedroom—and lay her down, pulling out just long enough to flip her onto her stomach.

"Ass up," you command, and she scrambles to obey, presenting herself to you.

The view is impeccable—her pussy swollen and dripping, cum already leaking out of her. You push back inside and she moans into the cushions, and this angle lets you go even deeper.

You fuck her hard, hands gripping her hips. The wet sounds of your cock driving into her pussy fill the room.

She's babbling now—words barely coherent, just broken pleas and your name and "yes" over and over.

"So fucking perfect," you groan, watching your cock disappear into her. Wet coating your shaft. Dripping down to make a mess on the couch. "Look at you, taking it so well."

"More," she gasps. "Harder, p-please, I need—"

You give her what she wants, slamming into her with enough force that she has to brace herself against the arm of the couch. Her pussy clenches around you, still sensitive from cumming twice already, and you can feel how close you are.

Your hand slides around to find her clit. She practically screams, body jerking. "Can't, too much, I can't—"

"Yes you can." Your fingers rub tight circles. "Cum with me."

She's shaking, thighs trembling, and you can feel her getting tighter. You lean over her, changing the angle, and she sobs out something that might be your name.

"Gonna fill you up," you warn, thrusts getting erratic. "Gonna cum so deep inside you."

"Please," she begs, "please, I want it, want you to—fuck!"

She cums first, pussy spasming around your cock, and that's all it takes to drag you over with her. You slam in one final time and cum hard, spilling deep inside her while she moans. You can feel it flooding her, so much that it starts leaking out around your cock even while you're still inside her.

You stay buried in her for a long moment, both of you breathing hard, before finally pulling out. Your cum immediately starts dripping down her thighs, obscene and perfect, and she's so thoroughly fucked that she just stays there, ass in the air, too wrecked to move.

"Bed," you finally manage.

She makes a sound that might be agreement. You both stumble to the bedroom, collapse onto the sheets.

You should probably stop.

You don't stop.

You're on her immediately, pinning her wrists above her head, and she gasps when you push back inside her. She's oversensitive and so fucking wet—cum from earlier mixed with how turned on she still is—and the slide is almost too easy.

"Sure you can handle one more round?" she teases, but her legs are already wrapping around your waist, pulling you deeper.

"You started this," you remind her, rolling your hips. "We finish when I say we finish."

She moans, head falling back against the pillow, and you take the opportunity to bite down on her neck, hard enough to leave another mark. Her pussy clenches around you in response, and you can feel how swollen she is, how thoroughly fucked.

You let go of her wrists, brace yourself above her.

Her hands find your back. Nails dig in immediately, dragging down your shoulder blades as you thrust into her.

The sting is perfect.

"Fuck, Yujin—"

"Harder," she demands, and her nails scrape down your back again, definitely breaking skin this time. "Give it to me harder!"

You shift the angle, driving deeper, and she cries out. The bed frame is hitting the wall with every thrust, and the sheets are getting soaked beneath her—sweat and cum and her pussy dripping everywhere.

"Look at me," you tell her, and when her eyes meet yours they're glazed and desperate. "This is what you wanted all day, isn't it? To get fucked until you can't think straight?"

"Yes," she gasps, nails carving new lines down your back. "Yes, god, don't stop—"

You don't. You fuck her hard into the mattress, one hand gripping her hip while the other slides up to wrap around her throat. Not squeezing, just holding her there while you fuck her apart.

She's babbling again, that incoherent mix of your name and "fuck" and "please," and you can feel her getting close. Her nails are brutal on your back, scratching hard enough that you know you'll be marked for days.

"Gonna cum again?" you ask, and she nods frantically.

"Can't help it, you're so deep, I can't—"

"Do it," you command. "Cum on my cock one more time."

She does, and it's like her whole body seizes up. Her nails rake down your back viciously as she screams, pussy clamping down so tight around you that it's almost painful. The sensation drags your own orgasm out of you, and you bury yourself as deep as possible, filling her up for the second time.

You can feel it mixing with the first load, so much cum that it's leaking out around your cock, soaking into the sheets beneath you. When you finally pull out, the evidence is everywhere—her thighs covered in it, the sheets stained, her pussy absolutely wrecked and dripping.

You collapse beside her, and she immediately sprawls out, chest heaving. Her makeup is completely destroyed now, smeared down her face, and her hair is a disaster. She looks thoroughly, completely fucked.

Perfect.

Your back is on fire where she scratched you, and when you shift, the sting reminds you of every mark she left.

"You lasted longer than I thought you would," she says between breaths, and even now—completely fucked out, thighs still trembling—she's got that fucking pleased little smile on her face.

You don't have the energy to respond, just managing to flip her the bird while you stare at the ceiling, pulse still racing.

~~~

Sorry for the wait! I have a big project waiting to go, and also maybe another Twice smut that should be out within the next week or two :)

Read on Fanprose here!

[toshyun]

Tempo

Twice's Kim Dahyun x Male Reader

3.4k words

Thank you to @mintwithchoco and Woolly for organizing another round of prompts! This one was so much fun, and the moodboard is so freaking pretty :)

"This is the wrong chord."

Dahyun doesn't even look up from the piano keys, but you can hear the smirk in her voice.

"It's literally not," you say, leaning over her shoulder to point at the sheet music on the stand. Your chest brushes her back. She doesn't move away. "See? Right there."

"Mm, nope." She plays it again, deliberately hitting the same note. "This one's better."

"Better is a matter of opinion."

"Well my opinions are always right, actually." She tilts her head, glancing up at you with that fucking grin. "But sure, tell the trained musician how music works. I love that for me."

You've been doing this for three hours now. It's past midnight, the studio dark except for the warm glow of the desk lamp and the monitors across the room casting everything in blue. There's coffee going cold on the mixer board, her phone face-down next to your laptop, her jacket thrown over the chair you're not sitting in because you've been standing behind her at the piano bench for the last forty minutes.

Helping, you'd call it.

She'd call it being an ass.

…well she's not entirely wrong.

"Play it your way then," you say, stepping back just slightly.

She does. Fingers moving across the keys, and yeah—fuck, she's right. It does sound better. The melody opens up, flows more. You're not telling her that though.

"See?" She's looking at you now, eyebrow raised. "I'm a genius."

"You're a pain in my ass."

"Wow, rude. And after I so generously graced your studio with my presence." She's laughing as she says it, turning back to the keys. "Could be literally anywhere else right now. A club. A bar. My bed, sleeping like a normal person."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because you just kept on BEGGING and BEGGING me."

"I sent one singular text you dumbass."

"Desperate energy," she says, playing a few random notes. "I could feel it through the screen. It was tragic, really."

You move back behind her, hands coming to rest on the edge of the bench on either side of her hips. Not touching. Close.

"Try it again from the top," you say.

"Bossy tonight aren't you?"

"You love it."

She snorts, but her shoulders shift back slightly, pressing into your chest just for a second before she straightens. Testing. Always testing.

You think she is, at least.

"I tolerate it," she corrects, fingers hovering over the keys. "Big difference."

But she plays it. From the top, the whole section, her hands moving with the kind of confidence that still gets you every time. She's good. Better than good. And she knows it, which somehow makes it worse.

Or better.

You haven't decided yet.

"There," she says when she finishes, twisting around to look at you. Her face is close now, too close, and neither of you moves. "Happy?"

"Getting there."

"Wow, high praise. I'm blushing over here."

Your hands are still on the bench. Hers are in her lap now, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. Her knee bounces once. A nervous habit she doesn't think you notice.

You notice everything.

"One more time?" you ask.

She studies your face for a second, something flickering in her expression before the grin comes back.

"You're lucky I like you," she says, turning back to the piano.

Don't overthink it. She doesn't mean it like that.

She plays it three more times. Each one just slightly different, testing different versions, and you stay right where you are. Close enough that when she leans back to think, her head almost touches your chest.

Almost.

"It's missing something," she complains, frowning at the keys. "the transition into the chorus feels so weird."

"It sounds great you idiot."

"It does not! it's—" She plays the section again, stopping right where it moves into the next part. "See? It's clunky. Awkward!"

You're uh… not really listening to the music anymore. Way too focused on the way her fingers move, the little crease between her eyebrows that forms when she really thinks, and how she bites her bottom lip when something's not working.

"Maybe switch the bass note?" you offer.

"Tried that already." She huffs, playing it again. Still not happy (of course). "God this is so fucking annoying."

"Take a break."

"Can't. This shit is going to drive me crazy if I don't figure it out."

Well. That's Dahyun. Relentless (stubborn beyond belief) when she's stuck on something. You've seen her spend hours on a single measure before, refusing to move on until it was perfect. It drives you fucking nuts, yes. But it's also part of why you like working with her.

Part of why you like her in general.

Let's not think about that.

"Here," you sigh, reaching over her shoulder. Your arm brushes hers. "Try this."

You improvise a transition with your right hand, changing one note. She watches, then plays it back herself.

"Oh." Her face lights up. "Wait, that's—yeah. That works!"

"Told you—"

"If you say 'told you so' I will slap you." She glares at you. "You changed like one note."

"One important note!"

She rolls her eyes, but you can see a grin forming. "Fine. You're a genius too. We're both geniuses. Happy?"

"Yup! Thrilled!"

She plays the whole section now with the change, and it really does work. Connects so much better. She looks satisfied, her shoulders relaxing slightly.

"Okay, again but slower," you say. "You're rushing."

"No I'm not." She narrows her eyes at you.

"Yes you are, you jackass. Right here." You lean in closer, your hand hovering over hers on the keys. "Feel it. One, two, three…"

She plays it again, and yep, she's still rushing. Way too stubborn to admit it though.

"Dahyun."

"What?"

"Slower."

"This is slow, idiot."

"This is you being stubborn."

She turns her head slightly, and suddenly her face is right there. Only a few inches away. You can count the individual eyelashes under the light. Her lips part like she's about to say something.

She doesn't.

Just looks at you.

Your hand is still hovering over hers. You should move it. Should step back. Should give her space to breathe, to think, to do anything other than stare at you like… that.

You don't move.

"Show me then," she says quietly. Her voice has lost that teasing edge you're so used to. It sounds almost nervous.

It’s making you nervous.

You swallow. "Okay."

Your hand covers hers on the keys. her skin is warm, fingers smaller than yours, and you guide her through the section. Slowly. One note at a time.

She's not… watching the keys…

You can feel her looking at you instead, and it's taking every fiber of your being not to turn your head, not to close that tiny, minuscule gap in between you.

"Like that," you manage to croak out.

"Yeah." She whispers weakly. "I got it."

But neither of you move. Your hand stays over hers, her body angled toward you, and the studio suddenly feels much smaller. Warmer. The hum of the equipment fades into meaningless background noise.

"You're in my space," she says, but there's no bite to it. No underlying complaint. Just an observation.

"Do you want me to move?"

She should say yes. You both know she should say yes.

"I didn't say that."

Fuck.

Your thumb brushes across her knuckles. The slightest touch. Testing.

She doesn't pull away.

"Dahyun—"

"Play it with me," she interrupts. her eyes are still on yours. "The whole section. Together."

It takes you a full second to process what she said. Music. Right. That's what you're doing here.

"Yeah," you clear your throat and blink a few times. "Okay."

You shift to stand directly behind her, both hands coming to the keys on either side of hers. She's surrounded by you now. Your arms bracketing her, your chest against her back, and when she leans into you this time you pause.

There's no way that's accidental.

You start playing. Her taking the higher notes while you handle the bass line, every brush of your fingers against hers feeling so very deliberate.

She makes a small sound when your hands overlap on a chord. Not quite a gasp. Softer, but similar.

The song ends but you keep your hands on the keys. Keep her caged between your arms.

"That was good," she manages to get out.

"Yeah."

She's quiet for a moment. Then she shifts, leaning back until her head rests against your chest. Tilting her face up to look at you.

Upside down. Eyes dark. Lips parted ever so slightly.

"Hi." She manages a small smile.

"Hi," you say back. Your voice comes out weird. Strained.

She's never looked up at you like that. Upside down, head against your chest, and you know she can feel the how fast your heart is beating.

"So um." She bites her lip. "This is—"

"Mhm."

"We should probably—"

"Yep."

Neither of you finishes a sentence. Neither of you moves.

Her hand comes up, ever so slowly. Fingers brushing against your jaw. Just barely. Testing.

"Can I—" she starts, then stops. Swallows hard. "Is this okay?"

You can't really form words right now. You're barely able to think. All you can do is nod.

She makes this small sound. Almost a laugh, but nervous. And then she's shifting. Turning. Standing up from the bench—her hand gripping your arm for balance, and in a blink she's facing you.

She's close. Closer than she's ever been, really. You can see the nervousness in her eyes now, the way her chest rises and falls just a little too fast.

"Hi," she says again. Quieter this time.

You're still frozen. Hands at your sides like an idiot, brain still trying to catch up with what's happening.

Her head is tilted back to look at you properly. Staring up like she's waiting for you to do something.

You should uh—but she's right there—does she want you to—

"If you don't kiss me in the next seven seconds, I'm going to lose my fucking mind," she whispers.

Like splashing you with cold water, her words finally reach you. Your hands find her waist and she rises up on her toes, and you're leaning down, and then—

Oh.

Fuck.

Her lips are soft. Warm. She makes this tiny sound against your mouth, maybe out of surprise, and her hands come up to grip your shirt. Pulling you closer (or pulling herself up, you can't really tell).

It's everything you've been dreaming about for months. Wondering about. Trying not to think about late at night when you should definitely be working, not pining over the gorgeous woman that is Kim Dahyun.

She kisses you like she's been waiting for this too. A little bit hesitant at first, testing, but then she tilts her head and suddenly it works. Your hand slides up her back, the other tightening on her waist, and it just feels like everything pauses around you.

She pulls back. Just barely, enough to catch her breath.

Her eyes flutter open slowly.

"Oh," she breathes.

"Yeah," you croak for what feels like the umpteenth time.

She just holds that eye contact. Searching your face for something. Her lips are slightly parted, a little swollen already.

"That was—"

"Dahyun." Your voice comes out rough. "Stop talking."

She grins. Still breathless, cheeks flushed. "Make me."

What are you going to do, deny her?

You kiss her again and this time there's no hesitation. Your hand tangles in her hair and she gasps into your mouth. When her tongue brushes yours you taste mint gum and something sweeter. Her chapstick maybe. Your brain really shouldn't be spending valuable processing power on figuring it out.

Her fingers slide up to your neck. Into your hair. Nails scraping lightly against your scalp.

Fuck that feels good.

Then she's pushing, and goddamn she’s a lot stronger than she looks.

You stumble back and your legs hit the bench and you sit down hard. She follows immediately, climbing into your lap, straddling you.

Fuck.

She settles her weight on your thighs and the position puts you eye level now. Her hands frame your face, thighs warm on either side of yours, and when she kisses you this time it's different. Hungrier.

"Better," she murmurs against your lips. "Much better."

You can feel everything. The warmth of her through her jeans. The softness of her thighs pressed against yours. How she fits against you when she leans in, chest to chest, and kisses you deeper.

Your hands find her hips. Gripping probably too tight but she doesn't seem to mind, just makes this small sound and shifts closer.

She rolls her hips slightly. Testing. And you can't help the way your body reacts—blood rushing south, cock hardening in your jeans. There's no hiding it. Not with her positioned like this, pressed right against you.

She feels it. Has to. The way you're getting hard beneath her.

She pulls back just enough to look at you. There's something in her expression—nervousness, sure, but also a strong look of desire.

"Is this—" She's breathless. "Are we—"

"I really hope so," you manage. Because what else is there to say? The girl of your dreams is currently grinding on your lap, hair fucked up, makeup getting smudged.

She's never looked more beautiful.

She kisses you again. Slower this time but somehow more intense, deliberate. Your hands slide under the hem of her sweater, just barely. Fingers brushing against bare skin and she shudders, arching into the touch.

Her skin is so warm. Soft. You've imagined this (you can't help where your mind goes late at night), but reality is much, much better. The way she reacts to your touch, the little gasp she makes.

"Your hands are freezing," she mumbles against your mouth.

"Sorry."

"Didn't say stop, did I?"

There's the Dahyun you know.

Your hands slide higher, palms flat against her back, feeling the way her muscles shift when she moves. She's still kissing you, getting bolder now, tongue sliding against yours while her hips rock forward slightly.

The friction makes you groan into her mouth. You're fully hard now, straining against your jeans, and she's grinding against you like she's testing how far this goes.

"Dahyun—" You pull back just enough to breathe. "We should—fuck, we should probably talk about this—"

"Later." She cuts you off with another kiss. Her hands are everywhere—in your hair, on your shoulders, sliding down your chest. "We can talk later. Right now I just—I need—"

She rolls her hips again, more deliberately this time, and the sound you make is just flat out embarrassing.

"Yeah," she breathes. "That. I need that."

Her hands slide down your chest, fingers finding the hem of your shirt. She pulls back just enough to yank it up and over your head, tossing it somewhere behind the piano bench.

"Off," she says breathlessly, and goes right back to kissing you.

Your hands find the bottom of her sweater. She raises her arms and you pull it off, breaking the kiss for just a second before her mouth is back on yours.

She's in a black bra. Simple, but the way it holds her—fuck. You can't help but stare.

You might be drooling. Should probably check.

"Eyes are up here perv," she says, noticing. There's that grin again.

"Shut up."

"Make me."

"You need a new comeback."

You kiss her harder, hands sliding up her sides, thumbs brushing against the underside of her breasts. She gasps into your mouth, arching into the touch.

Your fingers find the clasp of her bra. Fumbling with it (when did you get so bad at this?), and she laughs softly against your lips.

"Need help?"

"I've got it—"

It comes undone. Finally. She pulls back just enough to let it slide down her arms, and then she's bare from the waist up in your lap.

Fuck.

Her tits are perfect. Nowhere near huge but perfect for her frame, nipples already hard, and you can't help yourself—leaning forward to take one in your mouth.

"Oh—" She gasps, hand flying to the back of your head. "Fuck, yes—"

You suck gently, tongue circling her nipple, and she makes the most incredible sound. Her hips roll forward, grinding against you, and your cock throbs in response.

"Need you," she breathes. "Please, I need—"

You switch to her other breast, hand coming up to palm the one you just left. She's squirming in your lap now, making these desperate little sounds, and it's driving you insane.

"Stand up," you manage, pulling back.

She does, climbing off your lap, and immediately goes for your jeans. Unbuttoning them with shaky fingers while you work on hers.

Somehow you both manage. Jeans on the floor, then underwear, and then she's bare in front of you. All of her. Smooth skin and soft curves and you can see how wet she is, thighs already slick.

"Come here," you say, voice rough.

She climbs back into your lap. Straddling you again, but this time there's nothing between you. Just skin on skin. The heat of her pussy pressed right against your cock.

"Fuck," you both say at the same time.

She reaches down between you, wrapping her fingers around your cock, and you nearly lose it right there. She strokes once, twice, then lines you up with her entrance.

"Ready?" she whispers.

You nod. Can't form words.

She sinks down slowly. Taking you inch by inch, and oh my god—

Tight.

So fucking tight and wet and warm. Her walls stretch around you as she lowers herself, and the sounds she's making—little gasps and whimpers—are going to live in your brain forever. If you could record this moment just for that, you'd cherish it forever.

Hm. Maybe next time.

"Holy shit," she breathes when she's fully seated. "You're—fuck, you're so deep—"

You grip her hips. Trying to hold still, let her adjust, but it's taking everything in you not to move.

She starts rocking. Slow at first, just rolling her hips, and the friction is incredible. You can feel every inch of her wrapped around your cock, so slick and perfect.

"Dahyun—" You're not sure what you're trying to say.

"I know," she gasps. "I know, me too—"

She picks up the pace. Bouncing now, hands braced on your shoulders, and you watch her tits bounce with each movement. Watch her face—eyes closed, mouth open, completely lost in it.

You thrust up to meet her. Matching her rhythm, and she cries out.

"Yes—fuck, right there—"

Your hands slide from her hips to her ass, gripping tight, helping her move. She's so wet you can hear it, obscene sounds filling the studio with each thrust.

"So good," she's mumbling. "Feels so fucking good—"

You lean forward, capturing her mouth in a messy kiss. All tongue and teeth and desperation. She moans into your mouth, hips moving faster.

One of your hands slides between you, finding her clit. You circle it with your thumb and she breaks.

"Oh fuck—oh fuck, I'm—"

"Yeah?" You're close too. Can feel it building. "Gonna cum for me?"

"Yes—don't stop, please don't stop—"

You keep the pressure on her clit, keep thrusting up into her tight pussy, and she shatters. Her whole body goes rigid, walls clamping down on your cock so tight it almost hurts, and she's crying out your name.

The feeling of her cumming around you, squeezing and pulsing—it's too much.

"Dahyun, I'm gonna—fuck, I'm—"

"Do it," she gasps. Still riding out her orgasm. "Cum inside me, please—"

You do. Burying yourself deep as you can and letting go. Your cock pulses as you empty yourself inside her, hot and thick, and she's still grinding against you, milking every last drop.

"Fuck," you gasp. "Holy fuck."

She collapses against your chest. Both of you breathing hard, sweaty, her pussy still fluttering around your softening cock.

For a long moment, neither of you moves. Just sitting there on the piano bench, tangled together, trying to remember how to breathe.

"So," she finally says against your neck. "That happened."

You laugh. Can't help it. "Yeah. That definitely happened."

She lifts her head to look at you. Hair a mess, makeup smudged, cheeks still flushed.

Gorgeous.

"Worth ruining the piano bench?" she asks.

"So worth it."

She grins. Kisses you softly. Then winces slightly as she shifts.

"Gonna feel that at practice tomorrow," she mutters.

"Sorry."

"Didn't say I was complaining." She's still smirking. "Just stating facts."

You brush some hair out of her face. She leans into the touch, eyes softening.

"We should probably talk about this," you say quietly.

"Probably," she agrees. Then pauses. "Later though?"

"Later."

"Good." She settles back against your chest. "Because I'm not moving yet."

Neither are you.

[toshyun]

Finally

ARTMS' Jeong Jin-sol (Jinsoul) x Male Reader

4.8k words

Commissioned Fic

"—and then she's begging me to go harder, like actually begging, so obviously I—"

"Oh my god, shut up." Jinsoul throws a pillow at your head from across the couch. "Seriously. Shut the fuck up."

You catch it, grinning. "What? You asked how my weekend was."

"I asked if you did anything interesting. I didn't ask for a play-by-play of you fucking some random girl." She's glaring at you over her glasses, that annoyed look she gets when you've pushed too far. You've seen it a lot lately.

"It was pretty interesting," you say, because you can't help yourself. "Very interesting, actually. Want me to describe—"

"No." She cuts you off, going back to her phone. "I really, really don't."

This is routine by now. You tell her about your latest hookup, she gets annoyed and tells you to shut up, you tease her about being prudish, she throws something at you. It's been like this for months, ever since you started actually having success with dating apps.

Jinsoul's your best friend. Has been since college, back when you were both awkward and single and spent weekends gaming instead of going out. Difference is, you eventually figured out how to talk to girls. She... didn't. Still hasn't, as far as you know.

Not that she's bad looking. She's hot as hell, objectively. But she's also got this whole nerdy, keeps-to-herself thing that apparently doesn't translate over very well to the dating scene. Oversized hoodies, glasses, constantly has her nose in a book or her laptop.

You watch her scroll for a second, then decide to go for it.

"It was Chuu, by the way."

The scrolling stops.

Not dramatically, she doesn't gasp or drop her phone. Her thumb just... stills. A half-second pause that she covers immediately by scrolling again, slightly too fast now.

"Okay," she says.

"Just thought you'd want to know."

"I really didn't."

"She says hi, actually."

"She does not."

"She didn't," you admit, "but she did ask about you after. Like genuinely asked, not small talk. Wanted to know if you were seeing anyone."

Jinsoul's jaw shifts. Just slightly. "Cool."

"I told her no. That you don't really—"

"Cool," she repeats, louder.

You should stop. You know you should stop—you can read Jinsoul better than anyone and every signal she's giving is the polite version of I will actually get up and leave. But there's a different feeling tonight. Usually her annoyance is surface-level, the kind she shakes off in ten minutes. This is something else. She's not looking at you at all now, which she usually does even when she's pissed, because Jinsoul's the type to maintain eye contact out of sheer stubbornness.

"She's a good time," you say, mostly just to see what happens. "Really good, actually. Very—"

"I know what Chuu is like." Flat. Quiet.

Interesting.

"Do you?"

"She's my friend." She finally looks up, and there it is—not quite anger, something more complicated than that sitting right behind her eyes. "Can you please just talk about literally anything else."

"Sure." You shrug, lean back into the couch cushions. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Anything."

"Okay. Did you finish Horimiya?"

"Yes."

"Was it good?"

"Yes."

"Cool." A pause. "Chuu told me she—"

The second pillow hits you square in the face.

You're laughing before it even falls to your lap, fully delighted, and you hear her exhale hard through her nose—that sound that means she's trying not to smile and winning by the smallest margin.

"You're insufferable," she says.

"You love me."

"Genuinely debatable right now."

The TV's got some cooking competition running on mute, and for a few minutes you actually let it sit quiet. Jinsoul pulls her knees up to her chest, hoodie sleeves pulled down over her hands, and goes back to her phone. Normal. Routine. Except she's sitting a little more coiled than usual, and twice you catch her starting to say something and swallowing it.

The third time, it comes out.

"Was it actually her?"

You glance over. "What?"

"Chuu." She isn't looking at you. "Was it actually her or are you just saying that to be annoying?"

"Would I make that up?"

"Yes."

"Fair. But no. Friday night, after Heejin's thing." You watch her process that—Heejin's party, which Jinsoul left early, which Chuu stayed at. The math is easy and unpleasant and you can see her doing it. "It just kind of happened."

"Mm."

"She's really—"

"If you say really good one more time I'm going to kill you."

"I was going to say really into eye contact," you say, which is somehow worse, you can tell by the way Jinsoul's shoulders climb half an inch toward her ears. "Very intense. Very—"

"Stop." She puts her phone down. Not throws it, not slams it—just sets it face-down on the cushion beside her, which is somehow way more scary. "I'm serious. Stop talking about her."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to hear it."

"You've never wanted to hear it. That's never stopped you from—"

"I really don't want to hear it right now." Her voice has dropped. Different tone than the pillow-throwing, different tone than the eye-rolling. She's looking at you straight-on now, glasses slightly pushed up, jaw clenched. "Okay? Can you just—for once—drop it."

"Okay," you say.

Quiet.

The cooking show flickers. Someone on screen is upset about a soufflé.

"Whatcha gonna do about it?" you say.

You mean it as a joke. Mostly. The same way everything tonight has been mostly a joke. Mostly just pushing because she always shoves back and it's funny, it's always funny, that's the whole routine. Except she goes very still when you say it, and the stillness isn't the same stillness as when the phone-scrolling-stops.

She moves before you fully register it—just closes the distance between you two with absolutely zero hesitation, her hand grabbing a fistful of your shirt, and then she's kissing you.

It's clumsy. She comes in at a slightly wrong angle and her glasses bump your face and she makes this short frustrated sound against your mouth and corrects. The correction is worse, somehow—more direct, her fingers tightening in your shirt like she's worried you're going to pull back.

You are too stunned to do anything for about two full seconds.

She pulls back first. Barely an inch. Her eyes are open and she's watching you with this expression that is trying very hard to look like she does this all the time and failing completely—cheeks already going pink, breathing through her nose, waiting.

"There," she says. "That."

Your brain catches up.

Jinsoul's still watching you with wide eyes behind her glasses, her hand still fisted in your shirt, and you can see the exact moment where she realizes what she's done.

She starts to pull back. "I shouldn't have—"

You don't let her finish.

Your hand comes up to cup the back of her neck, fingers sliding into her hair, you take half a second to reach up and carefully pull those glasses off her face, setting them somewhere on the couch without looking. Then you pull her back in, properly.

"Oh," Jinsoul breathes against your mouth, and then she's kissing you back.

She tastes like the coffee she was drinking earlier, slightly bitter, and her lips are softer than you expected. Softer than Chuu's, softer than any of the girls you've ever mentioned over the last few months. The thought flickers through your mind and then disappears entirely because Jinsoul makes this small sound—not quite a whimper, not quite a gasp—and presses closer.

Her other hand comes up to your chest, not pushing, just resting there like she needs to steady herself.

You pull back just enough to look at her. "Jinsoul—"

"Don't." Her eyes are still closed, her breathing uneven. "Don't ask if I'm sure. Don't ask if this is weird. Just—" She opens her eyes, and there's something almost defiant in her expression, that stubborn way her jaw is set even as her cheeks are flushed pink. "I'm doing something about it. Like you said."

"I didn't think you'd actually—"

"Well I am." She kisses you again, harder this time, with more conviction, and her hand slides from your chest up to your shoulder, gripping tight. "I'm sick of hearing about Chuu. About all of them. I'm sick of you looking at me like I'm—like I'm just—"

She doesn't finish the sentence. Instead she shifts, trying to get closer, but the angle's wrong and she ends up half in your lap, knee digging into your thigh, and she makes a frustrated sound.

"Here," you say, and your hands go to her hips—the skin of her thighs warm under your palms. You guide her properly into your lap, her knees bracketing your hips, and the small pleased sound she makes goes straight to your cock.

She's straddling you now, sitting back slightly, and you can see the way her chest is rising and falling too fast, the way her hands are shaking slightly where they're pressed against your shoulders. She's trying so hard to look confident, to look like she knows what she's doing, but you've known her for years and you can read every tell.

"Have you ever—" you start.

"No," she cuts you off, and there's that defiance again, her chin lifting. "But I know—I'm not stupid, I know how this works, I've—" She fumbles for words. "I've watched porn. I've read things. I know what to do."

The admission is so earnestly Jinsoul—so thoroughly her brand of awkward honesty—that you have to fight back a smile. "That's not the same as—"

"I know it's not the same." Her fingers curl into your shirt. "But I want to try. I want—" She takes a breath. "I want you to stop looking at everyone else."

Oh.

Oh.

"Jinsoul," you say, and your hands tighten on her hips without meaning to. "How long have you—"

"Months." It comes out almost angry. "Months of listening to you talk about fucking other girls. About how good they are, how hot they are, what they let you do to them." Her hips shift, probably unconsciously, and the friction makes you both inhale sharply. "I didn't—I wasn't going to say anything. But then Chuu—"

She cuts herself off, but you can fill in the blanks. Chuu, who's her friend. Chuu, who she's probably compared herself to more than once. Chuu, who you described in vivid detail not twenty minutes ago.

"I'm sorry," you say, and mean it. "I didn't know—"

"Of course you didn't know. I didn't tell you." She's looking at you now, really looking, and her eyes are dark without her glasses. "But I'm telling you now. I want—I want you to f-fuck me. I want you to—" She swallows hard. "I want to know what it's like. What they get to have."

Your cock is fully hard now, and honestly probably has been since she first kissed you. There's no way she can't feel it pressed against her through your jeans. Her eyes widen slightly when she shifts and the angle changes, when she can feel exactly how hard you are.

"Is that—" Her voice is shaky. "Is that because of me?"

"Well," you say, manage. "It's not because of the cooking show."

The smile that crosses her face is small but genuine, pleased in a way that makes your chest tight. Then she's kissing you again, and this time there's less hesitation, more hunger. Her tongue slides against yours and she makes these breathy little sounds that drive you insane, her hips starting to move in small unconscious circles.

You slide your hands under her hoodie, palms flat against her sides, and she gasps into your mouth at the contact. Her skin is impossibly soft, warm, and when you drag your hands higher she arches into the touch.

"Can I—" You tug at the hem of her hoodie.

"Yes," she says immediately, and helps you pull it over her head.

She's wearing a simple cotton bra underneath, gray, nothing fancy. Somehow that makes it hotter—that she wasn't planning this, wasn't dressed for seduction. Just Jinsoul in her comfortable, everyday clothes, finally saying what she's been holding back for months.

You can see her nipples hard through the thin fabric, can see the way her chest is flushed, and when you run your thumb over one she makes a choked sound and her hips jerk.

"Sensitive," you murmur.

"I—yes—" She's breathing hard. "I don't—people don't usually—"

"No one's touched you here before."

She shakes her head, and fuck, the thought of being the first one to touch her like this makes something possessive appear in your gut.

You lean in, press your mouth to her neck, and she tilts her head back with a gasp. Her skin tastes like body wash, something clean and slightly floral, and when you scrape your teeth against her pulse point she whimpers.

"Oh god," she breathes. "Is it—is it supposed to feel like this already?"

"Like what?"

"Like I'm—" She can't seem to finish, her hips rolling against you with more purpose now, seeking friction. "It's too much. I'm already—"

You pull back to look at her, and fuck she's gorgeous like this—hair messed up, lips swollen, eyes half-lidded. "Already what?"

"Close," she admits, and she looks embarrassed about it. "I think—I've never felt like this before, I don't know if I'm—"

"You're turned on," you tell her, and slide one hand down to grip her ass, pulling her harder against you. She moans, full-throated and loud, and her hands scramble for purchase on your shoulders. "Really fucking turned on."

"I've been turned on before," she protests weakly. "This is—this is different."

"Because it's not just your hand this time."

She makes a strangled sound. "Don't—don't say it like that."

"Like what?" You're grinning now, can't help it. "You're the one who started this. You're the one who decided to do something about it."

"I know," she says, and then she's kissing you again, messy and desperate, her hips moving in a rhythm that's completely unconscious now, just chasing sensation.

You can feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of her shorts, can feel how wet she must be already, and when you rock up to meet her she breaks the kiss to gasp.

"Please," she says, and she sounds wrecked already. "Please, I need—I don't know what I need but—"

"I've got you," you tell her, and mean it. "I've got you."

"Bedroom," Jinsoul says suddenly, pulling back. Her lips are kiss-swollen, her pupils blown wide. "We should—the couch is—"

"Too small," you finish, because she's right, you're already half falling off it with her in your lap.

She climbs off you and immediately seems to second-guess herself, standing there in just her bra and sleep shorts, arms starting to come up before she forces them back down. You stand too, and her eyes track down your body, lingering obviously on the bulge in your jeans.

"Is it—" She swallows. "Does it hurt? Being that hard?"

"Little bit," you admit.

"Oh." She reaches out, hesitates with her hand hovering inches from your belt. "Can I—"

"Yeah."

Her fingers fumble with your belt buckle, shaking slightly, and she makes a frustrated sound when it doesn't immediately cooperate. You're about to help when she gets it, triumph flashing across her face as she yanks the belt free and starts on your button.

"I've got it," she mutters, more to herself than you. "I know how to—it's just a button, I'm not—"

The button pops free. She drags your zipper down and then pauses, staring at the outline of your cock straining against your boxers like she's not sure what to do next.

"You can touch it," you say.

"I know that." But she's biting her lip, hesitating in a way that's so clearly out of her depth that something protective rises in your chest.

You cup her face, tilt it up to kiss her again, softer this time. She melts into it with a small sound, and while she's distracted you slide your hands down her sides to hook your thumbs in the waistband of her shorts.

She breaks the kiss. "Wait—I should—" She takes a breath. "Chuu probably does it better. Takes her clothes off, I mean. She probably knows how to make it—"

"Stop." You cut her off. "I don't want Chuu right now. I want you."

"But you said she was—"

"I was being an asshole." You slide her shorts down and she steps out of them, standing there in just her underwear—plain gray cotton that matches her bra, and somehow that's hotter than any lingerie. "And you're—fuck, look at you."

She glances down at herself like she's not sure what you're seeing, then back up at you. "I'm not—I don't look like—"

"You look perfect." You mean it. She's all soft curves and pale skin, the slight swell of her stomach, the curve of her hips, thighs pressed together. "Absolutely fucking perfect."

Her breath hitches. Then she's pushing at your jeans, trying to shove them down your hips, impatient now. You help her, kicking them off along with your boxers, and your cock springs free.

Jinsoul stares.

"Oh my god," she says, very quietly. "That's—that's supposed to fit inside me?"

You can't help it—you laugh. "We'll make it work."

"How?" She sounds genuinely concerned. "I've used—I have a—but it's not—" She gestures vaguely at your cock. "That's bigger than—"

"We'll go slow."

"You didn't go slow with Chuu." It comes out before she can stop it, and she looks embarrassed immediately. "Sorry, I shouldn't—"

"Chuu isn't a virgin."

"Right." Jinsoul takes a breath, lets it out. Then, with visible determination, she wraps her hand around your cock.

Your hips jerk involuntarily at the contact and she makes a startled sound, almost letting go before her grip tightens. Her hand is smaller than yours, fingers not quite meeting around your girth, and the touch is uncertain, exploratory.

"It's hot," she says, wonder in her voice. "I didn't—it's really hot."

"Yeah." Your voice comes out strained.

She strokes experimentally, base to tip, and you groan. Encouraged, she does it again, twisting slightly on the upstroke like she's remembering something she read, and—

"Fuck," you grit out. "Where did you—"

"Reddit," she admits, and there's a hint of pride in her voice now as she strokes you again. "There were guides. I read—I wanted to know what to—oh."

You've slid your hand between her thighs, cupping her through her underwear, and she's soaked through the fabric. She gasps, her rhythm on your cock faltering as you press against her.

"You're so wet," you murmur, rubbing slow circles. "Fuck, Jinsoul."

"Is that—is that good?" She's trying to keep stroking you but her coordination is failing, her hips rocking into your hand instead.

"So good." You hook your fingers in her underwear. "Can I—"

"Yes, just—please—"

You pull them down and she steps out of them, then reaches behind herself to unclasp her bra with slightly more success than the belt. When it falls away you get your first real look at her tits—small, perfect handfuls with pale pink nipples that are hard and begging for attention.

You lean down and take one in your mouth.

"Oh fuck," Jinsoul gasps, her hand flying to your hair, gripping tight. "Oh fuck, that's—"

You suck harder, let your teeth graze, and her knees actually buckle. You catch her, guide her backward toward your bedroom, reluctant to take your mouth off her but needing somewhere better than the hallway.

She falls back onto your bed with a bounce, sprawling there completely naked, hair fanned out, chest heaving. For a second she just stares up at you standing over her, and you can see thoughts racing across her face—nervousness, want, that stubborn determination.

Then she spreads her legs.

"Okay," she says, and her voice only shakes a little. "I'm ready. Just—you should probably—" She gestures between her legs. "I read you're supposed to—before the actual—"

"You want me to eat you out first."

Her face flushes the brightest red you've ever seen. "If you want. I mean, the guides said it helps with—for virgins—"

You're already kneeling between her legs before she finishes stammering. "Jinsoul."

"Yeah?"

"Stop thinking about guides." You press a kiss to her inner thigh and she shudders. "Just feel."

"Okay," she whispers. "Okay."

You drag your tongue up her slit and she nearly levitates off the bed.

It's heaven between her legs, your face buried in her pussy, tongue working her clit while she makes increasingly desperate sounds above you. Her thighs are trembling on either side of your head, her hands fisted in your sheets, and when you slide one finger inside her she clenches around you so tight it's almost concerning.

"Oh god oh god oh god—" It's all running together, her hips rocking up to meet your mouth. "I'm gonna—I think I'm—"

You curl your finger and she cums with a sharp cry, her whole body going rigid before she's shaking through it, pulsing around your finger. You work her through it until she's pushing weakly at your head, oversensitive.

When you pull back and look up at her, she's staring at the ceiling with wide eyes, chest heaving.

"That was—" She tries to form words. "Holy shit."

"Good?" You're grinning, can't help it.

"I think I blacked out a little." She props herself up on her elbows to look at you. "Is it always—do people always—"

"Not always." You crawl up her body, settling between her legs. Your cock brushes against her and she gasps. "But yeah, it can be."

She reaches down between you, wrapping her hand around your cock again, and guides it to her entrance with more confidence than coordination. "Okay. I'm ready now."

"Jinsoul—"

"I'm ready," she insists. "Just—go slow? Like you said?"

You line yourself up, pressing just the tip against her, and even that has her breathing changing. "If it hurts—"

"I know. I'll tell you." She wraps her legs around your hips, trying to pull you closer. "Please just—I need—"

You push in slowly, just the head, and she makes a sound that's half-gasp, half-whimper. Tight doesn't even begin to cover it—she's gripping you like a vice, her body resisting even as she's trying to relax.

"Breathe," you tell her, holding still. "Just breathe."

She takes a shaky breath, then another, and you feel her relax incrementally. You push in another inch and her nails dig into your shoulders.

"Okay?"

"It's—" She swallows hard. "It's a lot. You're really—fuck, you're really inside me."

"Just a little bit." You kiss her jaw, her neck, trying to help her relax. "We can stop if—"

"Don't you dare." Her legs tighten around you. "Keep going. I want—I want all of it."

You push in further, slow and steady, and she's making these small wounded sounds that you're pretty sure are half-pleasure, half-overwhelmed. When you're about halfway she tenses up again.

"Hurts," she admits quietly.

"Need to stop?"

"No. Just—hold on." She takes a few breaths, adjusts her hips slightly. "Okay. Keep going."

You sink in another inch and she whimpers. "God, is there more? How much—"

"Almost there."

"Jesus christ." But she's trying to relax again, breathing through it. "Chuu took all of it right away, didn't she."

Even now she's thinking about that. "We're not talking about Chuu right now."

"But she did, didn't she? She probably—"

You thrust the rest of the way in and Jinsoul's words cut off in a sharp gasp, her eyes rolling back.

"There," you grit out, because fuck she feels incredible. "That's all of it."

"Oh my god." She's panting, her body stretched tight around you. "Oh my god that's—you're—I can feel you everywhere."

You hold still, letting her adjust, and after a moment she experimentally rolls her hips. The friction makes you both groan.

"Okay," she breathes. "Okay you can—you can move."

You pull out slightly and thrust back in, shallow, testing. She gasps but doesn't tell you to stop, so you do it again. And again. Building a slow rhythm that has her making these breathy little sounds on each thrust.

"Is this—" She can't seem to finish sentences. "Am I doing it right?"

You're not doing anything," you point out, and she makes an indignant sound.

"I'm supposed to—the guides said—" She tries to move her hips to meet your thrusts and the angle goes wrong, making her wince. "Fuck, how do people—"

"Stop thinking," you tell her, pinning her hips down. "Just feel it."

You thrust deeper and she moans, her head falling back. "Oh fuck that's—right there—"

You angle your hips to hit that spot again and she practically sobs, her pussy clenching around you. You can tell she's close again, her body drawn tight, sounds getting higher and more desperate.

"Touch yourself," you tell her. "Your clit."

Her hand slides between your bodies obediently, fingers finding her clit, and the added stimulation has her gasping. You pick up your pace, fucking into her harder now, and she's meeting you as best she can, all awkward enthusiasm.

"I'm—" Her words dissolve into incoherent sounds. "Please don't stop don't stop don't—"

You don't stop. You fuck her through her second orgasm, feeling her tighten and pulse around your cock, and the sensation combined with her wrecked sounds pushes you right to the edge.

"Jinsoul—" It's a warning. "I'm gonna—where—"

"Inside," she gasps. "I'm on—birth control—please—"

That's all you need. You thrust deep and cum hard, spilling inside her while she makes soft satisfied sounds, her hands stroking through your hair.

For a long moment you just stay like that, both breathing hard, sweaty and stuck together.

Then Jinsoul laughs.

It's breathless and a little disbelieving, but genuine. "Holy shit."

"Yeah," you agree.

"That was—" She's still trying to catch her breath. "Way better than the guides made it sound."

You pull out and immediately there's the wet sound of cum leaking out of her onto your sheets. Jinsoul makes a surprised noise, propping herself up to look down.

"Oh gross," she says, but she's still smiling. "It's just—coming out."

"Yeah, that happens."

"The guides didn't mention—" She pokes at your chest. "You couldn't have warned me?"

"You told me to cum inside you!"

"I was caught up in the moment!" She's laughing though, even as she's trying to clench her thighs together to stop the mess spreading. "Oh my god, do you have tissues or—this is going everywhere—"

You grab the box from your nightstand and hand it to her. She immediately stuffs a wad of tissues between her legs, looking completely unself-conscious about it in a way that's so perfectly Jinsoul it makes you grin.

"Stop looking at me like that," she says, but there's no heat in it. "This is your fault."

"You literally asked for it."

"Shut up." She throws a used tissue at you and you dodge, both of you grinning like idiots.

When she's cleaned up enough to move without dripping on everything, she shifts to lie on her side facing you, sheet pulled haphazardly over her waist. Her hair's a complete mess, lips still swollen, and there's a hickey blooming on her neck that you definitely remember making.

"So," she says.

"So."

A pause. Then: "You're not gonna tell me about this one, are you."

You snort. "What, brag to you about fucking you?"

"Would be weird," she admits. She's quiet for a second, then: "Was I better than Chuu?"

"Jinsoul—"

"I'm just asking." But she's biting her lip, trying to look casual about it and failing.

You reach out and tuck her hair behind her ear. "You were perfect."

"That's not an answer."

"Yes it is." You lean in and kiss her, soft and brief. "And I'm not talking about other girls anymore. Kind of ruins the mood when you're right here."

She processes that, and slowly, that pleased smile from earlier returns. "Good."

"Good?"

"Good." She shifts closer, throwing a leg over your hip despite the mess, despite everything. "Because if you do, I'll just have to do something about it again."

You laugh. "Is that a threat?"

"It's a promise."

And when she kisses you this time, there's no hesitation at all.

~~~

Hello all! I am indeed alive. I am proud, and a little nervous, to say that this is my first commissioned post! My commissions are now officially open on my Ko-Fi.

If you feel like throwing money at me for a fic, feel free to take a look and add my discord :)

Once again thank you all for supporting the stuff I put out <3

[toshyun]

Backlash

Le Sserafim’s Huh Yunjin x Male Reader

5k words

You hit send on the last tweet and lean back, grinning at your phone screen.

"y'all really thought yunjin's high notes were good?? lmao the girl sounds like a dying cat. she should stick to looking pretty (barely) and let the real singers handle it"

The replies are already rolling in. Death threats, mostly. A few promises to plant a bomb in your mail. One person saying they're going to cut your brake lines. 

The usual.

You scroll through them with satisfaction, occasionally quote-tweeting the most unhinged ones with a skull emoji or a simple "mad cause I'm right huh?"

It's been a good night. You've been at this for hours—Le Sserafim's performance at the awards show was a goldmine. Yunjin's voice cracked during the bridge, Sakura tripped while dancing, and Chaewon sneezed mid-note leading to a beautiful freeze frame. You've picked apart every second of it across multiple threads, each one racking up thousands of interactions.

Your follower count has jumped by three hundred. Your notifications are a never-ending stream of fury.

God, this is so easy. 

You screenshot a particularly violent death threat—someone promising to find your address and "gut you like a fish"—and post it with the caption: "damn, lesserafim stans can't take some criticism nowadays"

You finally set your phone down around 2AM, still filled with the joy that comes from successfully pissing off thousands of people with no repercussions. Your mentions are a dumpster fire. Your DMs are full of threats.

You sleep like a baby.

~~~

You wake up to nothing.

No sound, no obvious reason. Just that animal-brain instinct that something is off.

Your room is dark. The only light comes from your phone charging on the nightstand, a faint glow that barely illuminates anything. You blink, disoriented, trying to figure out what woke you—

There's someone in your doorway.

Your heart drops into your stomach.

A figure, standing completely still. Just stanced up in the darkness like something out of a horror movie, silhouetted against the dim hallway light. Tall, slender, and unmoving.

You make a sound. Not words, just a confused grunt, and you're starting to sit up when the figure moves.

Fast.

She launches herself at you, (you barely have time to register it's a she), before the weight hits you, knocking you back down into the mattress. Hands grab your shirt, yank you upward, and then there's a fist connecting with your face.

Pain explodes across your cheek. Your head snaps to the side.

"You piece of shit—"

Another hit. This one catches your jaw and you taste copper, feel your teeth cut into the inside of your mouth. You're still trying to process what the fuck is happening when she hits you again, and this time survival instinct kicks in.

You shove. Hard. Catch her off-balance and she stumbles back off the bed, and in the split second of space you scramble up, hands raised.

The hallway light is just bright enough now that you can see her face.

Holy shit.

"Yunjin??"

"Yeah." She steadies herself, and even in the darkness you can feel the fury radiating off her. "Surprise, asshole."

This isn't real. This can't be real. You're still asleep, having some fucked up nightmare brought on by all those death threats—

She comes at you again and you dodge, barely, feeling her fist whistle past your ear. Your back hits the wall. She's fast, faster than you expected, and she's aiming for your face again but you duck and her knuckles crack against the wall behind you.

She swears—in English, then Korean—and you use the opening to shove past her, trying to get to the door, but she grabs the back of your shirt and yanks. You go down hard, knees hitting the floor, and then she's on top of you, trying to pin you down.

"You fucking—stay still—"

"Get off me you stupid—" You twist, manage to throw her off-balance enough to roll, and suddenly you're the one on top, straddling her, and you grab her wrists to stop her from hitting you again.

She bucks. Hard. Almost throws you off, and you have to use your weight to keep her pinned. But she's strong, core tight from years of dancing, and she's gets a leg up between you and kicks. 

You go flying backward, hit your dresser, and the impact knocks the air out of your lungs.

Can’t breathe. Can’t think. Just scramble to your feet as she gets up too, and you’re both standing there in your bedroom, breathing hard, and this is insane. This is fucking insane.

“How did you—”

“Shut up.” She spits blood—you must have gotten her mouth at some point—and wipes her lips with the back of her hand. “You’ve been running your mouth all night. Thought you were safe, huh? Thought you could just say whatever the fuck you wanted?”

“It’s just—it’s just Twitter—”

“Just Twitter?” She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “You’ve been doing this for months. Every performance, every interview, every goddamn thing we do, you’re there talking shit. Making up lies. Calling me—”

She comes at you again and this time you’re ready. You catch her arm, use her momentum to swing her around, and she slams into the wall. Not hard enough to really hurt, but enough to stun her for a second.

You should run. You should be running right now, getting the hell out of your apartment, calling the cops—

But you don’t.

“You can’t just break into someone’s house—”

“Watch me.” She pushes off the wall, grabs you by the collar, and this time when she punches you, you feel something in your nose crack.

Blood. Immediate and hot, pouring down your face, and the pain is blinding. You swing wildly, more instinct than aim, and connect with something soft. She makes a sound—hurt or surprised, you can’t tell—and her grip loosens.

You shove her. She stumbles backward, trips over something on your floor, and goes down. You’re on her immediately, pinning her shoulders, and for a second you think you’ve won—

Then she gets her legs up, wraps them around your waist, and flips you.

You land hard on your back, all the air driven out of your lungs again, and then she’s straddling you. Sitting on your stomach, weight pressing down, and when you try to buck her off she leans forward, plants her hands on your chest, and puts all her weight on you.

Can’t move. Can’t breathe properly with her pressing down on your ribs.

“Fucking stay—” She’s breathing hard, hair falling out of its ponytail, and there’s blood on her mouth. Her lip is split. There’s a bruise forming on her cheek where you must have caught her. “Stay down.”

You try to buck again. Can’t. She’s got you pinned completely, thighs tight around your sides, and every time you try to move she just presses down harder.

Both of you are fucked up. Your nose is definitely broken, blood still pouring down your face, and your cheek is swelling where she hit you first. Your ribs ache. Your jaw throbs. There’s blood in your mouth, on your shirt, dripping onto the floor.

She’s not much better. Split lip still bleeding, bruise darkening on her face, and when she shifts her weight you see her wince. You must have gotten her ribs or stomach at some point.

For a long moment you just stare at each other, both trying to catch your breath, and the adrenaline is starting to fade enough that reality is setting in.

Huh Yunjin. From Le Sserafim. Is sitting on top of you. In your bedroom. At three in the morning.

After beating the shit out of you.

“Worth it?” she asks, and her voice is rough. “Was it worth it? All that shit you said?”

You should apologize. Should beg her not to call the cops, not to press charges, should do literally anything except what you actually do.

“I mean,” you say, and you can hear how nasal your voice sounds with your broken nose, “I wasn’t wrong about the high notes.”

Her eyes widen. Then narrow.

“Are you fucking serious right now?”

“Just saying. The criticism was valid—”

She punches you again. Not hard—she’s tired, you can tell—but enough that your head snaps to the side and fresh pain blooms across your already-fucked face.

“You never learn, do you?” She’s leaning over you now, face close to yours, and you can smell her—sweat and perfume and copper from the blood. “You just can’t shut the fuck up.”

“It’s a personality flaw,” you mutter.

She shifts her weight, adjusting her position, pressing down harder to make sure you stay pinned, and—

Oh.

Oh no.

Your body has apparently decided that this—getting beaten up by a K-pop idol who broke into your apartment—is somehow sexual. Because you’re getting hard. Right now. With her sitting directly on your lap.

Please no. Not now. Not—

She freezes.

Felt it. She definitely felt it.

Her eyes widen, then drop down to where she’s sitting on you. Back up to your face.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“It’s not—” You start, but you’ve got nothing. No excuse. Your body has betrayed you in the most mortifying way possible.

She stares at you for a long moment. Then she shifts her hips deliberately, grinding down once, and the pressure makes you gasp despite yourself.

“Oh my god.” A laugh escapes her, disbelief mixing with something else. “You’re actually hard right now. I just beat the shit out of you and you’re—”

“It’s not on purpose—”

“Doesn’t matter.” She grinds down again, watching your face, and you can’t help the way your hips twitch up involuntarily. “This is what gets you off? Getting your ass kicked?”

“No, I—fuck—” You try to buck her off but it just creates more friction and you both feel it. “It’s just adrenaline or—”

“Adrenaline.” She’s smirking now, despite the split lip, despite the blood. “Sure. That’s why you’re getting harder.”

She's not wrong. You are. And she’s still sitting right on it, can feel every time it twitches, and the humiliation is somehow making it worse.

“So here’s what’s going to happen.” She leans back, hands still planted on your chest, and the shift in angle presses her directly against you. “You’ve been running your mouth for months. Talking shit, acting tough behind a screen.”

“That’s not—”

“Shut up.” She presses down harder and your breath catches. “You’re going to shut the fuck up for once and let me talk.”

You close your mouth.

“Good boy.” The words are mocking, but there’s an edge to them now. “You wanted my attention so bad? You’ve got it. But I’m in charge now.”

Your heart is pounding. You can’t tell if it’s fear or something else.

“Here’s the deal.” She shifts her weight again, a slow roll of her hips that has you biting back a sound. “I came here to beat some sense into you. Clearly that didn’t work, since you still can’t shut up.”

“I mean, the high notes really were—”

She puts her hand over your mouth. Presses down.

“Stop. Talking.” Her other hand slides down your chest, over your stomach, and stops at the waistband of your sweatpants. “Since violence didn’t teach you a lesson, let’s try something else.”

Your eyes widen.

“What, scared now?” She’s not smiling, but there’s something sharp in her expression. “You talk so much shit online. Let’s see if you can back it up in person.”

She takes her hand off your mouth.

“This is insane, you broke into my fucking ho—"

“And you spent months harassing me online.” Her fingers slip under your waistband. Not moving yet, just resting there. “So we’re both doing insane shit tonight. Difference is, I’m the one on top.”

You should be protesting. Should be pushing her off, getting away, anything but lying here while she—

Her hand wraps around your cock.

“Fuck—” The word escapes before you can stop it.

“See? You can say something other than criticism.” She strokes once, slow, and your hips jerk up despite yourself. “Hard as fuck too. This really does it for you, huh?”

“It’s not—” But you can’t finish the sentence because she’s stroking you properly now, hand moving in steady pumps, and it’s been so long since anyone else’s hand—

“Not what?” She tilts her head, watching your face with that same intense focus she had while hitting you. “Not turning you on? Because your cock is saying different.”

You bite your lip, trying not to react, but she sees it. Sees the way your breath is coming faster, the way you can’t quite control your hips, and she laughs.

“This is perfect.” She lets go—you actually make a disappointed sound—and sits up properly. “You know what? I came here pissed. Wanted to make you hurt.”

She reaches down, grabs the hem of her shirt.

“But this?” She pulls it over her head, tosses it aside. Black sports bra underneath, and even bruised and bloody she’s—fuck. “This is better.”

You’re staring. Can’t help it. Her abs are visible even in the dim light, definition from years of training, and there’s a bruise forming on her ribs where you must have gotten her. Somehow that makes it hotter, proof of the fight, proof this is real, not just some weird wet-dream—

“Eyes up here.” She snaps her fingers. You meet her gaze. “Here’s how this is going to work. I’m going to fuck you. You’re going to take it. And maybe—maybe—if you’re good, if you shut the fuck up for once, I’ll let you cum.”

“You can’t just—”

“I can.” She reaches for your sweatpants, starts pulling them down. You lift your hips automatically and she notices, smirks. “See? You want this.”

She’s not wrong.

Your cock springs free when she gets your pants down to your thighs, and the way she looks at it—assessing, considering—makes you throb.

“Not bad,” she says, like she’s commenting on the weather. Then her hand is back on you, stroking firm and steady, and you can’t stop the groan that escapes.

“That’s better.” She shifts forward, still straddling you but positioned differently now, and uses her free hand to push up her own shorts. No panties underneath. You catch a glimpse—she’s already wet. 

“Like what you see?” She’s watching you watch her, and when she runs a finger through her folds, coating it in wetness, you actually whimper. “Yeah. You do.”

She brings that finger to your mouth.

“Open.”

You do. She slides her finger between your lips and the taste hits your tongue—salt and something sweet and undeniably her. You close your lips around it automatically, sucking, and her eyes darken a little.

“Fuck,” she mutters. “Okay. Okay, here’s—”

She pulls her finger out, positions herself properly over you, and—

“Wait—” You manage to get out. “Are we really—”

“Damn fucking right we are.” She’s already lining you up, tip pressed right against her entrance. “I’m not stopping now.”

“This is a stupid—”

“So is harassing someone online until they break into your house.” She sinks down.

Just the tip at first. The heat of her is overwhelming, tight and wet and perfect, and you both make sounds—her a sharp inhale, you something closer to a whine.

“Fuck, you’re—” She adjusts her angle, sinks down another inch. “—bigger than you look.”

“Is that a compliment or—”

She drops all the way down.

The sensation of being completely inside her hits you both. She gasps, head falling back, and you can’t breathe, can’t think, can only feel how tight she is, how wet, how she’s clenching around you like her body is trying to pull you deeper even though there’s nowhere left to go.

“Oh fuck,” she breathes. “Okay. Okay, this is—”

She lifts her hips. Drops back down. Finds a rhythm.

You’re inside Yunjin.

That thought keeps trying to surface through the haze of sensation, but she doesn’t give you time to process it. She starts riding you immediately, no warm-up, just lifts her hips and drops back down in a rhythm that’s confident and deliberate.

“Fuck—” You grab her hips instinctively and she slaps your hands away.

“No touching.” She pins your wrists above your head with one hand. Stronger than she looks, and you’re still weak from the fight. “You don’t get to touch until you earn it.”

“That’s not—ah—” She clenches around you mid-sentence and your words dissolve into a groan.

“What was that?” She’s smirking, bouncing on your cock with steady rolls of her hips. “Couldn’t hear you over all that moaning.”

“I wasn’t—” But she does it again, drops down hard and grinds, and yeah, you’re definitely moaning.

“That’s what I thought.” She releases your wrists but the warning is clear. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

You grip the sheets instead, knuckles white, because watching her ride you is going to make you cum embarrassingly fast. Her tits bouncing in that sports bra with each drop, abs flexing as she moves, the way her face is flushed despite the cool confidence in her voice—

“Still think my performances are shit?” She punctuates the question with a hard drop that has your cock hitting deep. “Still think I can’t deliver?”

“That’s—that’s not the same—”

“Not what?” Another bounce. The wet sound of her pussy taking your cock fills the room. “Not the same as singing? You’re right. This is better.”

She’s soaking wet. You can feel it dripping down your balls, coating your thighs, and the slick sounds are obscene. Each time she drops down there’s a squelch that should be embarrassing but just makes you harder.

“God, you’re so wet,” you manage.

“Yeah, and?” She doesn’t slow down. “Beating your ass got me worked up. This is just—fuck—convenient.”

“Convenient,” you repeat, and even now you can’t help yourself. “Sure. That’s why you’re riding me like you’re trying to break my—”

She slams down hard enough that your back arches off the floor.

“Like what?” Her voice is dangerous. “Finish that sentence.”

You don’t. Can’t. She’s clenching around you rhythmically now, and combined with the riding it’s too much.

“That’s what I thought.” She leans forward, hands on your chest, and the angle change makes you hit even deeper. “You’re all talk. Can’t back it up.”

That pisses you off more than it should.

“I’m not the one who—” You grab her hips despite the warning, pull her down as you thrust up, and she gasps. “—who broke into someone’s house because of mean tweets.”

“You—” She tries to slap your hands away but you hold on, matching her rhythm with your own thrusts. “Let go—”

“Make me.”

Wrong thing to say. She immediately adjusts, plants her feet flat on the floor, and starts really riding you—hard, fast drops that have your cock slamming into her, and you can’t hold on. Can’t do anything but grip her hips and take it.

“Fuck—oh fuck—” Your voice breaks.

“Yeah, not so talkative now, are you?” But her voice is breathy too. She’s getting close, you can feel it in how she’s tightening, how her rhythm is getting erratic. “Gonna cum already? That fast?”

“No—” Lie. You’re absolutely about to cum. Your balls are tight, pressure building at the base of your spine, and every time she drops down on you it gets worse.

“You are.” She grinds down, circles her hips, and you can feel every inch of her wrapped around you. “I can feel it. Your cock is throbbing.”

“So is your pussy,” you shoot back, and her eyes flash.

“Shut—ah—shut up—”

“That the best you got?” You don’t know why you’re still talking. Some self-destructive part of your brain that won’t let you just take it. “Thought idols had stamina. You’re already—fuck—”

She cuts you off by riding you harder. Faster. Her thighs are shaking with the effort but she doesn’t stop, just keeps bouncing on your cock with wet slaps that echo in the room.

“Still talking?” She’s panting now, sweat dripping down her neck, her stomach. “Let’s see—see if you can talk with your mouth full.”

She leans down and kisses you.

It’s not romantic. Still tastes like copper from both your split lips, mixing with spit, and it’s more teeth than anything else. But it shuts you up effectively, and she takes advantage—speeds up even more, chasing her own orgasm while kissing you hard enough to bruise.

You’re not going to last. Can’t last. The pressure is too much, building and building, and your thighs are tensing, hips trying to thrust up but she’s got you pinned with her weight.

“Don’t you dare,” she mutters against your mouth, like she can feel how close you are. “Don’t you fucking—”

Too late.

Your orgasm hits and it’s overwhelming, starts at the base of your spine and explodes outward. Your cock pulses inside her, once, twice, pumping cum deep into her tight pussy, and you’re groaning into her mouth, hands gripping her hips so hard you’re definitely leaving bruises.

She doesn’t stop moving. Keeps riding you through it, rolling her hips to milk every pulse, every spurt, and you can feel it—feel yourself emptying into her, so much cum that it’s already leaking out around your cock, dripping down your balls.

“There it is,” she mutters, breaking the kiss. “Fucking finally.”

But she’s still going. Still bouncing on your cock even as it starts to soften, oversensitive and almost painful, because she hasn’t finished yet. Her hand slides between your bodies, fingers finding her clit, and she rubs quick circles while your cum squelches out with each movement.

“Wait—too much—” You’re squirming now, the overstimulation making your nerves scream, but she doesn’t stop.

“Deal with it.” She sits up properly, really working her clit now. “Not done yet—fuck—almost—”

You grab her thighs—fuck the rules at this point—and help, pulling her down each time even though it hurts, and the wet sounds are even louder now. Your cum mixed with her wetness, coating everything, making a mess on your stomach, the floor.

“Fuck, look at you,” you manage, voice wrecked. “Taking my cum and still—still—”

“Shut up, I’m close—” Her fingers move faster, more desperate. “Shut up, shut up—”

She cums with her head thrown back, a sharp gasp that turns into a moan, and her pussy clamps down so tight on your sensitive cock that you actually whimper. You feel her pulsing, clenching rhythmically, and more wetness floods out—hers mixing with yours, running down your thighs in warm rivulets.

Her whole body shudders through it. Thighs trembling on either side of you, abs clenching, and she’s making these small desperate sounds that she probably doesn’t realize she’s making.

When she finally stops moving, you’re both gasping for air. Again.

---

She collapses forward onto your chest, and you can feel your cum leaking out of her, dripping down onto your stomach in warm streaks. Neither of you move for a long moment, just breathing hard, and you can see everything from this angle—her pussy still stretched around your softening cock, the creamy white mess where you're connected, how her thighs are shaking.

"You came so much," she mutters, and you can hear the disbelief in her voice.

"Yeah, well—" You shift slightly and more leaks out. "Your fault."

She lifts her head to glare at you, and even fucked out and messy she's gorgeous. Sweaty hair stuck to her forehead, lips swollen from kissing, that bruise on her cheek somehow making her hotter.

"My fault? You're the one who—"

"Who got broken into and assaulted?" You can't help yourself. "Yeah. Terrible person, that's me."

Her eyes narrow. "You're still talking shit."

"It's what I do."

She tries to slap you. You catch her wrist, and suddenly you're wrestling again—weaker this time, exhausted and slippery with sweat and cum, but she's trying to pin you and you're not letting her.

You get a leg up, use the leverage to flip her.

She yelps as her back hits the floor, and then you're on top of her, pinning her wrists, and the position change makes your cock slip out completely. More cum spills out of her pussy, thick and white against her thighs, and you can't stop staring at it.

"My turn," you say.

"You can't even—you already came—"

She's right. You're soft, spent, but watching her underneath you like this—hair spread out on the floor, tits heaving as she catches her breath, your cum literally leaking out of her pussy—your body is apparently capable of rallying faster than expected.

"Give me a minute," you mutter, and you lean down to kiss her neck, her collarbone, working your way down.

"What are you—"

You kiss her tits through the sports bra, then lower, down her stomach. She's so sweaty you can taste salt on her skin, and there are bruises forming where you grabbed her earlier. 

When you reach her thighs, you can see the mess up close. Your cum dripping out of her swollen pussy, coating her inner thighs, and without thinking you lean in and lick a stripe up her thigh, tasting yourself mixed with her.

"Oh my god—" Her hips jerk. "What the fuck—"

"Cleaning up my mess," you say, and do it again on the other thigh.

"That's—you're—" She can't seem to finish a sentence, just watches as you lick your own cum off her skin, and her pussy clenches, pushing out more.

By the time you've cleaned her thighs, you're half-hard again. And she notices.

"Seriously?" She props herself up on her elbows to look at you. "Already?"

"Told you to give me a minute." You grab her hips, flip her over onto her stomach. "Hands and knees."

"Bossy now?" But she gets up, positions herself on all fours, and the view—fuck. Her ass in the air, pussy swollen and used and still leaking your cum, and when she looks back at you over her shoulder there's a challenge in her eyes.

"You gonna just stare or—"

You line yourself up and push back in.

She's so wet from the cum and her own arousal that you slide in easily despite being only half-hard, and the sight of your cock disappearing into her used pussy makes you throb. You can see everything from this angle—how stretched she is, the white ring of cum forming at the base as you bottom out, the way her ass looks pressed against your hips.

"Fuck—" She drops her head down, elbows on the floor. "So full—still so full of your cum—"

"Yeah?" You pull out slowly, watching your cock emerge coated in white, then push back in. "You like that? Like being full of my cum?"

"Shut up—" But her pussy clenches around you.

You start moving properly, finding a rhythm, and it's messy. Each thrust makes wet squelching sounds, cum being pushed deeper or forced out to drip down her thighs, and your hands are gripping her ass, fingers digging into the muscle.

"This what you wanted?" You're breathing hard, exhausted but can't stop. "Wanted to put me in my place?"

"You're still—ah—still talking—"

"Yeah, and you're still taking my cock." You slap her ass—not hard, you're both too tired for that—but enough to make it jiggle, to leave a red print. "So who really won here?"

She laughs, breathless and surprised. "You're unbelievable."

"You broke into my house."

"You harassed me for months."

"You're riding my dick anyway."

"Fuck you."

"You are," you point out, and thrust harder to emphasize it.

She moans, loud and unrestrained now, and you can see her face turned to the side, eyes closed, mouth open. She's close again—you can feel it in how she's tightening, how her back is arching to take you deeper.

"Touch yourself," you tell her. "Make yourself cum on my cock."

She does, hand sliding between her legs to rub her clit, and the added pressure makes her pussy clench even tighter around you.

"Fuck—fuck, I'm gonna—"

"Do it." You're close too, somehow, despite having just came. "Cum for me."

She does. Her whole body goes rigid, a sharp cry escaping her, and you feel her pussy spasm around your cock, trying to milk you even though there's probably nothing left. You keep thrusting through it, drawing it out, watching her fall apart.

You don't cum again—can't, you're completely spent—but you keep going until she's pushing back at you weakly, oversensitive.

When you pull out, the sight is obscene. Her pussy is gaping slightly, cum pouring out in thick streams, coating everything, and her legs are shaking so bad she collapses flat on the floor.

You collapse next to her. Neither of you move for a long moment.

"Okay," she says finally, voice hoarse. "Okay, that was—"

"Yeah."

She sits up slowly, wincing, and you watch as she tries to find her clothes. Her shorts are soaked through with cum and sweat, but she pulls them on anyway, then her shirt.

"I'm gonna feel this for days," she mutters.

"Good."

She looks at you, and despite everything—the fight, the mess, the insanity of it all—she's almost smiling.

"If you keep tweeting," she says, heading for the door, "I'm coming back."

"Promise?"

She doesn't answer. Just leaves, and you hear your front door close.

You lie there on your bedroom floor, covered in sweat and cum and completely destroyed, and grab your phone.

847 notifications.

You open Twitter, look at your drafts, and close the app.

Maybe you'll give it a rest for tonight. 

Then again… you are free tomorrow.

~~~

Uhhh… long time no see! Sorry for going M.I.A on y’all I had another project to work on plus… well… life I guess. I hope y’all liked this one, thank you to @starconstruction for the original idea <3

[toshyun]

Delivery

TripleS' Ji Suh-yeon (Jiyeon) x Male Reader

4.7k words

The knock on your door comes right at 7:34 PM. You know because you've been watching the delivery tracker obsessively for the last fifteen minutes, stomach growling.

You open the door and—fuck.

This delivery girl is gorgeous.

Fucking stupidly gorgeous. Dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, fitted black polo, sharp features and full lips. That perfect mix between hot and cute that leaves your brain feeling a little fuzzy. She's holding your pizza box in one hand, phone in the other, looking completely professional.

"Large pepperoni?" Her voice is matter-of-fact.

"Yeah, that's me." You take the box. It's warm against your hands.

She's already swiping on her phone, pulling up the payment screen. "Comes to $24.20 with delivery."

You set the pizza on the entryway table. Pat your pockets. Empty. Shit. Your wallet is—where the fuck is your wallet? Probably in your bedroom. Or maybe the couch. Definitely not on you.

"Uh." You pat your pockets again like that'll make it materialize. "So funny story—"

She looks up from her phone. Waiting.

Your brain chooses this moment to be absolutely stupid. Maybe it's because you've been watching too much porn lately. Maybe it's because she's hot and you're flustered. Maybe you're just an idiot.

Probably that last one.

"I don't actually have my card on me right now," you say, and then your mouth keeps going without permission. "Is there maybe another way I could pay?"

It's a joke. Obviously a joke. You're going to laugh it off and go grab your wallet in like two seconds.

She doesn't laugh.

Just looks at you. Straight-faced. Expression completely neutral.

"Another way," she repeats slowly.

Oh fuck. Oh shit. Abort.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding—" You're already backing up, hands raised. "Bad joke, I'll go get my wallet right now, it's in my—"

"What did you mean?" She tilts her head slightly. Still no expression. "Another way to pay?"

Your face is hot. "It's stupid, it's this dumb trope from like, porn and stuff online, you know—" Why are you still talking? Stop talking. "The whole pizza delivery thing where the guy doesn't have money so they—and it's obviously not real, I didn't mean to—"

"So you were suggesting sex instead of cash." She says it like she's confirming your pizza order. Completely casual.

You want to die. "I wasn't—I mean, yeah, that's the trope, but I wasn't actually—"

"Okay."

Your brain short-circuits. "What?"

"Okay." She pockets her phone. Takes a step forward into your apartment. "Let's do that instead."

She's fucking with you. She has to be fucking with you.

"You're joking."

"Am I?" She takes another step. You take one back automatically. She's smirking now, just a little, and it completely transforms her face from professional to something that makes your pulse kick up. "You made the offer."

"I didn't—that wasn't an actual offer, I was joking—"

"Were you?" Another step. You're backing further into your apartment now and she's following, closing the door behind her with her heel. "Because you're still standing here. Haven't gone to get your wallet."

Fuck, she's right.

"I—"

"Here's what I think." She's close now. Close enough that you can smell her perfume, something light and sweet. "I think you made that joke because some part of you hoped I'd say yes. And now that I am saying yes, you don't know what to do with yourself."

Your back hits the wall. When did you run out of room?

"I don't—this doesn't actually happen in real life—"

"Doesn't it?" She's right in front of you now, looking up at you with dark eyes and that little smirk still playing at her lips. "Seems like it's happening right now."

Your heart is pounding so hard she can probably see it. "You're serious."

"Dead serious." Her hand comes up, fingers playing with the collar of your shirt. "Unless you actually want to go get your wallet? We can do this the boring way if you prefer."

This is insane. She's insane. This doesn't happen.

"What's your name?" you manage.

"Jiyeon." Her fingers slide down from your collar to your chest. "And you're going to want to remember that, because you'll be saying it a lot in the next hour."

Fuck it. Fuck it.

"Bedroom's down the hall," you hear yourself say.

Her smirk widens into a full grin. "Good choice."

She pulls you down the hall and you're stumbling after her like an idiot, brain still trying to catch up to what's happening. This is real. This is actually happening.

Jiyeon pushes you into your bedroom and you barely register the mess—clothes on the floor, unmade bed—before she's on you. Hands sliding under your shirt, pushing it up.

"Off," she says simply, and you obey without thinking.

Shirt hits the floor. She's looking at you now, eyes dragging down your chest, your stomach, lower. That fucking smirk is still there.

She's actually checking you out.

"Not bad," she says, like she's judging furniture. Then her hands are on your belt.

"Wait—" Your hands cover hers. "Shouldn't we—I mean—"

"What?" She looks up at you, tilting her head. "Having second thoughts?"

"No, I just—this is insane, you know that right? You don't actually have to—"

"I know I don't have to." She pulls your belt free in one smooth motion. "I want to. Now stop overthinking and let me work."

Your jeans hit the floor. You're standing there in your boxers, half-hard already, and she hasn't even taken off her shirt yet.

"That's not fair," you manage.

"What's not fair?"

"You're still dressed."

That smirk again. "So undress me."

Your hands are shaking when you reach for her. Stupid. You've done this before. But something about the way she's watching you makes you feel like a fucking virgin.

You grab the hem of her polo. She raises her arms and you pull it off.

Holy fuck.

Black bra. Simple, no lace or anything, but the way it's holding her—fuck. Her tits are perfect. Not huge but full, straining against the cups.

"Keep going," she says.

You reach for her jeans. Button, zipper, sliding them down her hips. She steps out of them and kicks them aside. Black panties matching the bra. Her legs are toned, thighs that you're already imagining wrapped around—

Focus.

"Lie down," she says, and it's not a request.

You sit on the bed. She pushes your shoulder and you fall back, head hitting the pillow. Then she's climbing on top of you, straddling your hips, and you can feel the heat of her through your boxers, through her panties.

She leans down and kisses you. Her tongue slides into your mouth and you groan, hands coming up to grab her waist. Her skin is soft and warm and she's grinding down on you, slow circles that have your cock throbbing.

"Already hard," she murmurs against your mouth. "That was fast."

"Your fault," you manage.

"Good." She sits up, still straddling you, and reaches back to unhook her bra. It falls away and her tits bounce free and you can't help but stare.

Perfect. They're fucking perfect.

She notices you staring and laughs. "You can touch them, you know."

You do. Both hands coming up to cup her tits, thumbs brushing over her nipples. They're already hard, pebbled peaks that make her breath catch when you circle them.

"Fuck," she breathes, grinding down harder. "That's good—"

You lean up and take one nipple in your mouth. She gasps, hand coming to the back of your head, holding you there. You suck and lick and she's rocking against you faster now, little sounds escaping her throat.

"Enough," she says suddenly, pushing you back down. "My turn."

She slides down your body. Hooks her fingers in your boxers. Pulls them down.

Your cock springs free and she pauses, just looking at it. You're fully hard now, tip already leaking, and the way she's staring is making you throb.

"Not bad at all," she says, wrapping one hand around your shaft.

The touch makes you gasp. She strokes once, twice, thumb swiping over the head and spreading the precum. Then she looks up at you with those dark eyes.

"I'm going to ride your face," she says casually. "And you're going to make me cum. Think you can handle that?"

Is she serious?

She's already moving, climbing up your body. Panties sliding off somewhere along the way. And then she's there, right above your face, her pussy inches from your mouth.

You can see everything. She's already wet, glistening, and the smell of her hits you—sweet and musky and making your mouth water.

"Well?" She's looking down at you, waiting.

You grab her thighs and pull her down.

Fuck yes.

The taste of her explodes on your tongue. Sweet and tangy and addictive. You lick up through her folds and she gasps, hips jerking.

"Oh fuck—" Her hands brace against the wall above your headboard. "That's it—"

You do it again. Slower this time, really tasting her. She's so wet already, coating your tongue, and you can't get enough. You find her clit and circle it, and her thighs tighten around your head.

"Fuck, right there—"

She's grinding down on your face now, using your mouth, and you're drowning in her. Your hands grip her ass, pulling her closer, tongue working her clit while she rides your face. Every breath is full of her scent, every sound she makes going straight to your aching cock.

"So fucking good with your tongue—" Her voice is breathy now, losing that confident edge. "Don't stop, don't fucking stop—"

You slide your tongue lower, dipping inside her. She's so tight, clenching around your tongue, and the moan she makes is desperate.

"Yes—oh god, fuck me with your tongue—"

You do. Fucking her with your tongue while your nose presses against her clit. She's dripping now, wetness coating your chin, your lips, and she's grinding so hard you can barely breathe but you don't care. All you care about is that taste, those sounds, the way her thighs are trembling.

"Gonna cum—" She's gasping now, rhythm getting erratic. "Fuck, gonna cum on your face—"

You focus back on her clit. Sucking it into your mouth, flicking it with your tongue, and she breaks. Her whole body goes rigid, thighs clamping around your head, and she cums with a sharp cry.

"Fuck—fuck—oh fuck—"

You can feel her pulsing against your tongue, gushing wetness, and you lap it all up. She's shaking through it, hands gripping the wall so hard her knuckles are white. You keep going, drawing it out, until she's pushing at your head.

"Too much—sensitive—"

She lifts off your face and collapses next to you on the bed, chest heaving. You're gasping for air, face covered in her, cock throbbing so hard it hurts.

Holy shit.

She recovers faster than you expect. Rolls over to look at you, takes in your soaked face and grins.

"Good boy," she says, and then she's kissing you. Tasting herself on your tongue. Her hand wraps around your cock again and you groan into her mouth.

"My turn," she murmurs, and before you can process that she's moving. Straddling your hips again, hand guiding your cock to her entrance.

Wait—

She sinks down in one smooth motion.

"Fuck!" You both say it at the same time.

She's so fucking tight. Hot and wet and squeezing your cock so tight you can't feel anything else. You grab her hips, fingers digging in, trying to process the sensation of being inside her.

"So fucking big—" She's panting, hands braced on your chest. "Stretching me so good—"

She starts moving. Slow at first, rolling her hips, and every movement has you seeing stars. Her pussy is gripping your cock so tight, so wet, and the sight of her above you—tits bouncing, head thrown back, lips parted—is almost too much.

"Jiyeon—fuck—"

"Yeah?" She looks down at you, grinning. "Feel good?"

"So fucking good—you're so tight—"

She picks up the pace. Bouncing now, really riding you, and the sound of skin slapping fills the room. Her tits are bouncing with each drop, and you can't look away. Can't think. Can only feel how fucking perfect her pussy feels wrapped around your cock.

"Touch me," she gasps. "Play with my tits—"

You do. Hands coming up to squeeze, to pinch her nipples, and she moans loud.

"Yes—fuck yes—so fucking deep inside me—"

She's taking your whole cock, every inch disappearing into her tight cunt, and you can see it—see where you're connected, see how wet she is, coating your shaft.

"Gonna make you cum," she pants, grinding down harder. "Gonna milk that cock—you want that? Want to cum inside this tight little pussy?"

Fuck. Fuck.

"Yes—god yes—"

"Then give it to me—" She's slamming down on you now, chasing her own pleasure. "Fill me up—want to feel you cum inside me—"

You're so close. Her pussy is clenching around you, so wet and hot and perfect. You thrust up to meet her, matching her rhythm, and she cries out.

"Fuck—yes—fuck me—"

It builds fast. Pressure coiling tight in your gut, balls tightening, and Jiyeon's moaning your name over and over.

"Cum for me—cum inside me—"

You do. Your orgasm hits like a fucking truck, hips slamming up as you empty yourself inside her. She grinds down, taking it all, and you can feel yourself pulsing, filling her, so much cum pumping into her tight cunt.

"Yes—yes—so fucking much—" She's still moving, milking every last drop, and her pussy is clenching rhythmically, squeezing you.

You collapse back, spent, and she slumps forward onto your chest. Both of you breathing hard. Your cock is still inside her, softening slowly, and you can feel the mess you made—your cum leaking out around your shaft.

She shifts slightly and more drips out. The sensation makes your breath hitch.

"Fuck," she murmurs against your chest. "That was good."

"Yeah."

She lifts her head to look at you, grinning. "You lasted longer than I thought you would."

"Thanks, I think?"

"It's a compliment." She kisses your jaw, then your neck. "Most guys would've blown in two minutes with me riding them like that."

Your hands are on her waist. Holding her. Her skin is so soft under your palms.

"Round two?" she asks, grinding down slightly. Your cock twitches inside her.

Something shifts in your brain.

"Yeah," you say, and your grip on her waist tightens. "But my turn now."

Her eyebrows raise. "Oh?"

You roll. She gasps as you flip her onto her back, pulling out in the process. More cum spills out of her, dripping onto your sheets, and she's looking up at you with wide eyes.

"My turn to be in charge," you say.

That smirk returns. "Took you long enough to find your spine."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

You kiss her. Hard. Claiming her mouth the way she claimed yours earlier, and she moans into it. Your hand slides between her legs, fingers pushing into her cum-filled pussy.

She gasps against your lips. "Fuck—"

"So fucking messy," you mutter, fingers working in and out. "Full of my cum and still so tight."

"Your fault—" Her hips buck up into your hand. "Came so much inside me—"

You pull your fingers out. They're coated in cum and her wetness mixed together. You bring them to her lips.

"Clean them."

She does. Takes your fingers in her mouth and sucks them clean, tongue swirling around them, eyes locked on yours the whole time.

Your cock is hardening again. Already. Watching her suck your fingers, tasting both of you mixed together, it's getting you hard again so fucking fast.

"Good girl," you say when she releases your fingers with a pop.

She grins. "What now?"

You grab her hips. Flip her over onto her stomach.

"Now I'm going to fuck that pretty throat of yours."

"Big words," she says. "Think you can back them up?"

You grab her hips and pull her to the edge of the bed. Her legs dangle off the side, toes barely touching the floor. Then you walk around to face her.

Your cock is right there, inches from her face. Fully hard again, tip already leaking.

"Open," you say.

She does. Mouth falling open, tongue out, and fuck—the sight of her like this. Ready and waiting.

You push in slowly. Just the tip at first, resting on her tongue. She closes her lips around you and sucks gently.

"Wider," you tell her. "I'm going to use that throat."

Her jaw drops open more. You grab the back of her head with one hand, the other braced on the bed beside her, and slap it a few times on her tongue.

Then you push in deeper.

The heat of her mouth hits you instantly. Wet and soft and perfect. You slide in further, past her tongue, and she gags slightly when you hit the back of her throat.

"Breathe through your nose," you mutter, holding there for a second. "Relax that throat."

She does. Takes a breath and you feel her throat relax around you. You push in more and she takes it, eyes watering but not pulling away.

"Good girl. Take this fucking cock."

You start moving. Slow thrusts at first, watching your cock disappear into her mouth over and over. Her lips are stretched around you, drool already starting to leak from the corners of her mouth.

"So fucking pretty like this," you grunt. "Mouth full of cock."

She moans around you and the vibration makes you thrust harder. Deeper. You hit the back of her throat and she gags, throat clenching around your tip, but you don't pull out. Just hold there until she adjusts.

"That's it. Choke on it."

You pick up the pace. Really fucking her throat now, both hands on her head, holding her in place while you use her mouth. She's gagging with every thrust, drool pouring down her chin, tears streaming from her eyes.

The sounds she's making—wet and obscene, gurgling around your cock—it's fucking perfect.

"Such a good little slut," you pant. "Taking my cock so deep in that throat."

Your balls slap against her chin with each thrust. She's trying to breathe between strokes, gasping when you pull back, and her hands grip the sheets.

You pull out completely. She gasps for air, drool connecting your cock to her lips in thick strings. Her makeup is ruined, mascara running, lips swollen and shiny.

"Fuck," she croaks, voice already rough. "You weren't kidding."

"I'm not done yet."

You push back in and she takes it. No hesitation. Just opens wide and lets you fuck her throat harder than before. You're not gentle anymore—don't need to be. She can take it.

The wet, sloppy sounds fill the room. Her gagging, your grunting, the slap of your balls against her face. It's so fucking dirty and she's loving it, moaning around your cock even as she struggles to breathe.

"Gonna cum soon if you keep that up," you warn, but you don't stop thrusting. "Want me to cum down your throat? Fill that belly with my load?"

She tries to shake her head but can't with your cock buried in her throat. Her hand comes up and pushes at your thigh.

You pull out. "No?"

She's coughing, gasping, drool everywhere. "Want it—" Another cough. "Want it in my pussy again. Please."

Fuck yes.

You pull her up by her hair. Not rough enough to hurt but enough to make her gasp. Then you're kissing her, tasting yourself on her tongue, and she moans into your mouth.

"On your hands and knees," you tell her. "Now."

She scrambles to obey. Gets on all fours on the bed, ass in the air, and looks back at you.

Her pussy is still a mess from before. Your cum has dripped down her thighs, dried in some places but still wet where it's leaking out of her. She's so fucking wet, glistening in the light.

You kneel behind her on the bed. One hand on her ass, the other guiding your spit-soaked cock to her entrance.

"Beg for it," you say.

"Please." No hesitation. "Please fuck me. Want that cock so deep inside me."

"More."

"Please—" Her voice breaks. "Need you to fuck me hard, wreck this tight little pussy, fill me up again with your cum—"

You slam in.

She cries out, back arching, and you're buried balls deep in one thrust. So fucking tight still, even with your cum already inside her. Hot and wet and squeezing your cock like she's trying to keep you there.

"Fuck!" She's gripping the sheets. "So deep—oh my god—"

You don't give her time to adjust. Just start pounding into her, hips slapping against her ass with each thrust. The sound of it echoes through the room—skin on skin, wet and loud.

"This what you wanted?" you grunt, fingers digging into her hips hard enough to leave marks. "To get fucked like a slut?"

"Yes—fuck yes—"

Her ass bounces with each impact. You watch your cock disappearing into her pussy over and over, coated in white from your first load mixed with her wetness. It's so fucking messy, dripping down both your thighs.

You lean forward, pressing her face down into the mattress. The angle changes and you go even deeper. She's practically screaming now, muffled by the bed, and her pussy clenches around you.

"So fucking tight," you pant. "Squeezing my cock so good."

"Harder—" Her voice is muffled but desperate. "Fuck me harder—"

You do. Pounding into her with everything you have. The bed is shaking, headboard hitting the wall, and she's taking every inch like she was made for it.

One hand slides up her back, feeling her arch under your touch. Her skin is slick with sweat. You grab a handful of her hair and pull, lifting her head up.

"Who's fucking you this good?" you demand.

"You—fuck—you are—"

"Say my name."

She does. Moans it over and over while you rail her from behind. Your name mixed with curses and desperate pleas for more.

Your other hand comes down hard on her ass. The slap echoes and she clenches around you, crying out.

"Again," she gasps. "Spank me again—"

You do. Over and over, watching her ass turn pink under your hand. Each slap makes her pussy clench, makes her moan louder, and fuck—she's loving this.

"Such a dirty girl," you growl. "Love getting spanked while taking cock?"

"Yes—love it—love your cock stretching me—"

You're getting close. That familiar pressure building in your gut, balls tightening. But you want to see her face when you cum.

You pull out. She whines at the loss but you're already flipping her over, pulling her to the edge of the bed. Her legs wrap around your waist automatically and you slam back in.

"Oh fuck—" Her head falls back. "Yes—"

This angle is perfect. You can see everything—her tits bouncing with each thrust, her face flushed and sweaty, her pussy stretched around your cock. And she can see you too, watch you fuck her.

"Look at me," you command. "Want to see those pretty eyes when I fill you up."

She does. Locks eyes with you and doesn't look away even as you pound into her. Her mouth falls open, desperate little sounds escaping with each thrust.

"Gonna cum," you warn. "Gonna fill this tight pussy with another load."

"Please—" Her nails dig into your back. "Want it so bad—need to feel you cum inside me again—"

You're so close. Her pussy is clenching rhythmically now, so wet and tight and perfect around your cock.

"Touch yourself," you grunt. "Cum on my cock."

Her hand flies between you, fingers working her clit frantically. Within seconds she's right there, you can feel it in how she's tightening around you.

"Fuck—I'm gonna—"

"Do it. Cum for me."

She does. Her whole body seizes up, pussy clamping down on your cock so hard you can barely move. She's crying out your name, shaking through it, and that's what pushes you over.

"Fuck—Jiyeon—fuck—"

You slam in deep and cum. Hard. Emptying yourself inside her for the second time, adding to the mess already there. So much cum pumping into her tight cunt, and she's still pulsing around you, milking every drop.

"Yes—yes—fill me up—so much cum—"

You keep thrusting through it, working every last bit out of your balls until you're completely spent. When you finally stop, both of you are gasping for air, sweaty and exhausted.

You pull out slowly. Cum immediately starts leaking out—your second load mixing with the first, dripping onto the sheets. There's so fucking much of it, coating her thighs, making a mess.

"Fuck," she breathes, looking down at herself. "You really filled me up."

"Twice," you point out, collapsing beside her.

She laughs, breathless. "Yeah. Definitely twice."

You both lie there for a moment, catching your breath. Her hand finds yours and squeezes.

"So," she says eventually. "Worth the twenty-four dollars?"

You laugh. Can't help it. "Definitely worth it."

"Good." She rolls onto her side to face you, grinning. "Because I'm keeping the pizza too."

She grabs your hand, thumb tracing lazy circles on your palm.

"Your sheets are ruined," she says after a moment.

You glance down. She's not wrong. There's cum everywhere—on the sheets, on her thighs, probably on you too. The whole bed is a disaster.

"Worth it," you say.

She laughs. Sits up slowly, wincing slightly. "Fuck, I'm gonna feel that tomorrow."

"Good."

"Cocky now, aren't you?" She stretches, arms over her head, and you can't help but watch. Even exhausted and covered in mess, she's gorgeous.

She notices you staring and smirks. "Already?"

"Just looking."

"Sure." She swings her legs off the bed, stands up. More cum drips down her thighs and she makes a face. "Okay, I need a shower. Where's your bathroom?"

You point. "Down the hall, first door on the left."

She walks toward it, completely naked and unbothered, and you just lie there watching her go. The confident sway of her hips, the curve of her ass, the mess you made dripping down her legs.

The shower turns on. You hear the water running, her moving around.

You should probably get up. Change the sheets at minimum. But moving feels impossible right now.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You grab it.

Three texts from your roommate:

dude are you alive

heard some WILD shit through the wall

staying at shion's tonight you're welcome

You laugh and toss the phone back down.

The shower shuts off. A few minutes later Jiyeon emerges, hair damp, using your towel. She's still naked.

"You have a washing machine?" she asks.

"Yeah, why?"

"My uniform's sweaty as hell. Mind if I throw it in?"

"Go ahead."

She disappears again. You hear the washer start up.

When she comes back, she climbs onto the bed—the dry corner that's not completely destroyed—and lies down next to you.

"So," she says. "This is weird, right?"

"Extremely."

"Good weird or bad weird?"

You think about it.

"Good weird," you decide.

She grins. "Yeah. Good weird."

You're both quiet for a bit.

"My shift ends in like an hour," she says eventually. "Technically I'm still on the clock."

"Seriously?"

"Yep. Longest delivery ever." She's trying not to laugh. "My boss is probably having an aneurysm."

"Are you gonna get fired?"

"Maybe." She doesn't sound concerned. "Worth it though."

"Keep saying that."

"Because it's true." She rolls onto her side to face you. "Besides, I know where you live now. Can always come back."

"For my amazing personality?"

"For the dick." She says it so casually. "Your personality's just a bonus."

You laugh. Can't help it.

"Same time next week?" you offer.

"Make it two days." She leans in and kisses you. Soft this time, almost sweet. "I'm impatient."

"I noticed."

[toshyun]

Walls

TripleS' Kim Nakyoung x Male Reader

3.6k words

The bass is what wakes you up. Not loud enough to identify the song, just this rhythmic thump-thump-thump coming through the wall. Your wall. The one your bed is pushed up against.

You grab your phone off the nightstand. 1:53 AM.

Are you fucking kidding me.

You lie there waiting for it to stop. It doesn't. Just keeps going, this steady pulse of bass that you can feel more than hear. You try putting the pillow over your head. Doesn't help. You can still feel it.

Five minutes. Ten. Your jaw starts hurting from clenching it.

The new neighbor. It has to be the new neighbor. You've seen her exactly once—helped hold the door when she was moving boxes in. Pretty girl. Smiled and said thanks. You'd thought, oh good, normal person.

Apparently fucking not.

The music finally dies at 2:26. You know because you check your phone again, like knowing the exact time makes it less annoying. It doesn't. By then you're too pissed off to fall asleep. Just lying there staring at the ceiling, imagining passive-aggressive notes in your head that you'll never actually write.

Work the next day is a nightmare. Four hours of sleep and your coworker keeps asking if you're okay. You keep grunting non-answers. You're not okay. You're exhausted and irritated and thinking about your bed, which is all you want for the next eight hours.

That night: nothing. Next night: also nothing. You almost forget about it.

Thursday she decides to start vacuuming at 11 PM. You turn the volume up. Doesn't help. The vacuum is louder. You turn it up again. Still can't hear the dialogue.

Who the fuck vacuums at 11 PM on a Thursday?

It goes on for twenty minutes. Your hands hurt by the end of it from gripping your laptop.

Friday night it's voices. She's got people over apparently, and you can't make out words but you can hear the constant noise of them. Talking, laughing, the sound of people having a grand old time when you're trying to sleep. It goes well past midnight. You've got shit to do tomorrow morning. You shove in earplugs and they're useless. Might as well be wearing nothing.

Saturday afternoon you see her checking her mail. You're coming back from the gym, still in workout clothes, and here's the opportunity for you to finally say something. Anything.

Hey, just so you know, the walls are pretty thin here. Easy. Normal neighbor conversation.

She looks up when she hears you coming and smiles. That same smile from move-in day. She's in leggings and an oversized hoodie, hair up in a bun, no makeup.

She looks really good actually.

Stop it.

"Hi!" Bright and friendly, like you're already friends.

"Hey." Comes out more clipped than you meant, but whatever.

She goes back to her mail and you unlock your door and go inside. The moment comes and goes. You could've said something. You didn't.

The weekend is quiet. Saturday night, Sunday, nothing. Maybe she got the hint somehow. Maybe she didn't realize.

Monday comes and you've almost forgotten about it.

You're lying in bed scrolling through your phone when you hear it. Not music this time. Not vacuuming. Something else. Quieter. It takes you a second to place it because it's not what you were expecting.

Oh no.

She's—is she—?

Another sound confirms it. Soft but distinct. A moan. She's moaning.

…what the fuck?

You freeze. Phone still in your hand, brightness way too high in the dark room, and you're hearing your neighbor get herself off through the wall. The very thin wall. The wall that apparently doesn't block any sound whatsoever.

This isn't happening.

It's happening. The sounds get louder. Less tentative. More obvious. There's a rhythm underneath—you don't want to think about what's causing that rhythm but your brain is very helpfully supplying possibilities. Her hand. Probably her hand. Maybe a—

Stop. Stop thinking about it.

But you can't exactly unhear it when it's five feet away through a paper-thin layer of drywall.

It lasts maybe ten minutes. Ends with this loud gasp that makes your face hot. Then silence.

You stare at your phone. The words on the screen aren't processing. Your brain is stuck on what just happened. On the fact that you just heard—

She doesn't know. She's new here, she doesn't realize the walls are this thin. That's it. That has to be it.

Except Wednesday night it happens again. 10:45 this time. Same sounds but more confident. Definitely louder. Like she's not even trying to be quiet anymore.

No way she doesn't know. These walls don't hide anything and she has to have been here long enough to figure that out.

Thursday evening you're taking trash out and she's coming back from wherever and you literally run into each other. She catches herself with a hand on your arm.

"Oh! Sorry, wasn't looking where I was going."

"It's fine." You step back.

But she doesn't move. Just stands there looking at you with these dark eyes. She's in an oversized sweatshirt and shorts, hair pulled back, no makeup. Looks good. Annoyingly good.

"You're in 7C, right? Next door?"

"Yeah."

"Nakyoung." She says it with this little smile. "Since we keep running into each other. Literally, apparently."

You tell her your name because it would be weird not to.

"Nice to officially meet you." She shifts the bag on her shoulder. "Sorry if I've been noisy, by the way. Old place had better insulation. Still getting used to it here."

There it is. Perfect opening. Yeah, actually, about that—

But something about the way she's looking at you. Like she's waiting. Like she wants you to say something specific and she'll know if you don't.

"No problem," you manage.

Her smile gets a little wider. "Good. Wouldn't want to be a bad neighbor."

She goes into her apartment and you're left standing in the hallway with a trash bag, feeling like you just failed some kind of test.

That night: nothing. Friday: nothing. Saturday: still quiet. You start to relax. Maybe that conversation worked somehow. Maybe she really didn't know.

Sunday night you're almost asleep when it starts.

Loud. SO much louder than before. Not subtle at ALL. She's moaning, gasping, and it sounds almost exaggerated. There's quite literally no way it's not deliberate.

And then you hear your name. Breathy and clear through the wall.

She just moaned your name while getting herself off.

You're at her door before you fully process the decision to move.

Don't remember standing up. Don't remember crossing your apartment. You're just there, barefoot in sweatpants and a t-shirt, knocking on her door.

Pounding, really. Like she did with the music that first night.

It opens fast. She was expecting this.

Nakyoung's standing there in an oversized t-shirt that hits mid-thigh, and you're trying not to notice that she's probably not wearing anything under it. Her hair's messy. Cheeks flushed. She looks—

Don't. Focus.

"Oh, hey!" Like she's surprised. Like she wasn't just moaning your fucking name through the wall sixty seconds ago. "What's up?"

"Are you serious right now?"

"What?" Big innocent eyes. She's leaning against the doorframe, completely relaxed.

"You know what."

"I really don't." She tilts her head. That same head tilt from the hallway. "Is something wrong?"

Your jaw is clenched so hard it hurts. "The walls are thin."

"Oh." She blinks. "Oh! Were you trying to sleep? I'm sorry, I didn't realize—"

"Bullshit."

Her eyebrows go up. "Excuse me?"

"You knew. You've known the whole time." You step closer and she doesn't back up. Just watches you with this little smile playing at her lips. "The music. The vacuuming. Your friends. And now—"

You can't say it. Can't say "you moaned my name while getting yourself off" because that makes it real.

"Now what?" she prompts. Still full of innocence.

"You know exactly what."

"Do I?" She's really enjoying this. You can see it in her eyes, the way she's biting back a wider smile. "Maybe you should explain it to me."

"Nakyoung—"

"Come inside." She steps back, pulling the door open wider. "We shouldn't have this conversation in the hallway."

Bad idea. This is a bad idea. You should go back to your apartment and deal with this like an adult tomorrow, maybe file a noise complaint with the building.

You walk inside.

Her apartment is the same layout as yours but backwards. Mirror image. There's clothes draped over her couch, takeout containers on the coffee table, her laptop open on the kitchen counter. Lived-in. Normal.

She closes the door behind you and suddenly you're very aware that you're in her apartment. That she's wearing just a t-shirt. That she was just—

"So," she says, leaning back against the door. "You were saying?"

"The walls are thin," you repeat. "You can hear everything."

"Everything, huh?" Her smile is getting harder to hide now.

"Yes. Everything. The music was bad enough, but then you—" You stop. Your face feels hot.

"I what?"

Fuck it. She wants you to say it, you'll say it. "You were deliberately loud. You wanted me to hear."

"Did I?" She pushes off the door, walking past you toward the kitchen. You catch her scent—something sweet. "That's a pretty big assumption."

"You moaned my name."

She stops. Turns around. "Did I?"

"You know you did."

"Maybe I was thinking about someone else with the same name." She's back to playing innocent but she's grinning now. Can't hide it anymore. "It's not that uncommon."

"Nakyoung—"

"You're cute when you're angry." She leans against the counter, arms crossed under her chest. The shirt rides up slightly. "All flushed and worked up. I like it."

Your brain short-circuits for a second. "What?"

"I've been trying to get your attention for two weeks." She says it casually. Like she's commenting on the weather. "You're completely oblivious, you know that?"

"I'm not—that's not—"

"First night I moved in, you held the door for me. Smiled at me. I thought, okay, cute neighbor, let's see where this goes. But then nothing. You barely looked at me in the hallway. So I thought maybe you needed a little push."

You're still trying to process this. "A push."

"The music was just to see if you'd say something. You didn't." She shrugs. "The vacuuming, same thing. Nothing. You just kept avoiding me."

"I wasn't avoiding you, I was trying to be polite—"

"Boring." She moves closer. "So I escalated."

"Escalated."

"Well, yeah." She's right in front of you now. Looking up at you with those dark eyes. "Had to get creative. And it worked, didn't it? You're here."

You should leave. This is insane. She's insane. "You're insane."

"Maybe." She reaches out, fingers brushing the hem of your shirt. "But you're still here."

"I came over to tell you to keep it down."

"Did you?" Her hand flattens against your stomach, through your shirt. "That's the only reason?"

Your body's already responding. You can feel yourself getting hard and she definitely notices, based on the way her smile widens.

"Nakyoung—"

"Tell me to stop," she says quietly. Her hand slides lower, not quite touching but close enough that you can feel the heat of it. "Tell me you want me to be quiet and leave you alone and I will."

You should. You should absolutely tell her that.

"I—"

She waits. Patient. Still smiling.

"Fuck it."

You kiss her. Or she kisses you. Someone moves first and then you're kissing her, hard, and her arms are around your neck and she's making this pleased little sound against your mouth. She tastes like mint toothpaste.

Her fingers tangle in your hair and you grip her waist, pulling her closer. She's definitely not wearing anything under that shirt. You can feel her pressed against you, soft curves and heat.

She breaks the kiss, breathing hard. "Took you long enough."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

You grab her hips and lift. She gasps, legs wrapping around your waist automatically, and then you're walking—where's her bedroom? There. You kick the door open and drop her on the bed. She bounces slightly, laughing, and then you're on top of her.

"Still want to make me shut up?" she asks, grinning up at you.

"So fucking badly."

"Then do it."

You kiss her again, harder this time. She arches up into you, hips rolling against yours, and you're already hard enough that it's almost painful. Your hand slides under her shirt, up her side, and she gasps into your mouth when you cup her breast.

No bra. Of course no bra.

You thumb over her nipple and she moans—actually moans, not performative like through the wall, but real and breathy and right in your ear.

"Fuck," she breathes when you kiss down her neck. "Yes—"

You pull her shirt up and off. She helps, arms over her head, and then she's naked except for panties. Black lace. You take a second to just look at her—flushed and breathing hard and staring up at you with dark eyes.

"See something you like?" Defiant even now.

"Shut up," you tell her again, and kiss down her chest. Take one nipple in your mouth and she gasps, back arching. Your hand slides down her stomach, over her hip, between her legs.

She's already wet. Soaked through the lace.

"Fuck, Nakyoung—"

"Told you," she pants. "Been wanting this—mmph—"

You rub her through the fabric and she bucks up into your hand. Her head falls back, eyes fluttering closed, and she's making these little desperate sounds that go straight to your cock.

"These need to come off," you mutter, hooking your fingers in the waistband.

She lifts her hips and you pull them down, toss them somewhere. Then she's completely naked and spread out on her bed and you're still fully dressed.

"Not fair," she complains, tugging at your shirt.

You lean back and strip it off. Sweatpants next. Your cock springs free—you'd gone to bed without boxers—and her eyes go wide.

"Oh fuck," she breathes, staring. "That's—okay. Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Definitely yeah." She reaches for you but you catch her wrist.

"You've been a tease for two weeks," you tell her. "You can wait."

"But—"

You spread her legs wider and settle between them. She realizes what you're about to do and her breath catches.

"Oh—oh fuck, you don't have to—"

You lick up through her folds and she chokes on whatever she was going to say. She's already so wet, and the taste of her makes you groan. You do it again, slower, and her hips jerk up.

"Oh god—" Her hands fly to your hair, gripping. "Fuck—"

You find her clit with your tongue and circle it. Her thighs are already trembling.

"So sensitive," you murmur against her.

"Shut up—ah—don't stop—"

You slide two fingers inside her while you work her clit and she nearly sobs. She's tight, clenching around your fingers, and when you curl them to hit that spot she cries out.

"Right there—fuck, right there, don't stop—"

You don't stop. You keep the pressure steady, fingers pumping, tongue working her clit, and she's falling apart. Her moans are getting louder, less controlled, and you think about how anyone can probably hear this in through the walls.

Good.

"I'm—fuck, I'm gonna—"

She cums with a sharp cry, thighs clamping around your head, pussy pulsing around your fingers. You work her through it until she's pushing at your head, oversensitive.

When you pull back she's sprawled on the bed, chest heaving, looking dazed.

"Holy shit," she mumbles.

You wipe your mouth. "Still want to be a brat?"

She grins weakly. "Maybe?"

"Wrong answer."

You flip her over onto her stomach. She yelps in surprise, then moans when you pull her hips up, ass in the air.

"Oh fuck yes—"

You line yourself up, rubbing the head of your cock through her wetness. She tries to push back, take you inside, but you hold her hips still.

"Impatient," you mutter.

"You just made me cum, I'm allowed to be—ah!"

You push inside in one stroke. She's so wet that you slide in easily, and she moans into the pillow, muffled and desperate.

"Fuck, you're tight—"

"You're huge—" Her voice is strained. "God, so full—"

You start moving. Slow at first, deep thrusts that make her whimper. She's gripping the sheets, knuckles white, and every time you bottom out she makes this breathy little sound.

"Faster," she demands.

"Ask nicely."

"I don't do nice—oh fuck—"

You slam in harder and she gasps. Then you slow down again, deliberate.

"That's not fair—"

"Neither is two weeks of you being a brat." You lean over her back, pressing her into the mattress. "You can take what I give you."

She turns her head to glare at you but it's undercut by the way she's panting, the way her pussy is clenching around you.

"Please," she finally says. "Please fuck me properly."

Close enough.

You grab her hips and really fuck her. Fast now, hard, your hips slapping against her ass with each thrust. The sound of it is obscene—wet and slick and punctuated by her moans. She's stopped trying to muffle them, face turned to the side, mouth open.

"That's it," you grunt. "Let everyone hear what a needy little slut you are."

"Fuck—yes—harder—"

You give her what she wants. The headboard is hitting the wall now, rhythmic and loud, and somewhere in the back of your mind you register that this is definitely audible in your apartment. In probably every apartment on this floor.

Don't care.

She's getting tighter, clenching around you with each thrust. "Gonna cum again—fuck, you're gonna make me cum again—"

"Not yet." You pull out completely and she whines at the loss, high-pitched and desperate.

"Why did you—"

You flip her onto her back. Her hair is a mess, lips swollen, eyes glazed. She looks fucking perfect like this.

"Want to see your face," you tell her, settling between her legs.

She wraps them around your waist immediately, trying to pull you back inside. "Then stop teasing and fuck me."

Still bratty even now. You lean down, bracing yourself on one arm, and guide yourself back inside with the other. From this angle you go even deeper and she gasps, nails digging into your shoulders.

"Oh god—"

You start moving again, slower than before. Rolling your hips, grinding against her clit with each thrust. She's writhing underneath you, trying to make you go faster.

"Please," she whimpers. "Please, I need—"

"What do you need?"

"You—harder—please—"

You lean down to kiss her, swallowing her moans. She kisses back desperately, all tongue and teeth, one hand tangling in your hair while the other claws at your back.

"This what you wanted?" you ask against her mouth. "When you were being loud on purpose? When you moaned my name?"

"Yes—fuck yes—wanted you to snap, wanted you to—ah!—to come over and fuck me just like this—"

"Greedy little thing."

"Only for you—" Her voice breaks when you hit particularly deep. "Fuck, only you, wanted you so bad—"

The admission makes something hot coil in your gut. You pick up the pace, really driving into her now, and she's moaning continuously, "yes yes yes" and your name over and over.

"Touch yourself," you tell her. "Want to feel you cum on my cock."

Her hand flies between you, fingers working her clit frantically. Within seconds she's right on the edge, you can feel it in the way she's tightening around you.

"Fuck—I'm so close—"

"Beg me to let you cum."

"Please—" It comes out as a sob. "Please let me cum, I need it so bad, please—"

"Because?"

"Because I'm yours—fuck—your needy slut who's been begging for this for weeks, please let me cum on your cock—"

Better.

You reach between you and brush her hand aside, rubbing her clit yourself. Hard, fast circles that make her eyes roll back.

"Cum," you tell her. "Now."

She does. Instantly. Her whole body goes rigid, back arching completely off the bed, and she's practically screaming your name. Her pussy clamps down on your cock like a vice and you have to stop moving or you'll follow her over immediately.

"Oh my god—oh fuck—" She's shaking through it, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes from the intensity.

You give her maybe ten seconds to recover before you start moving again. She gasps, oversensitive, but her legs tighten around your waist.

"Too much—"

"You can take it," you grunt, chasing your own orgasm now. You're so close, have been holding back, and the way she feels—tight and wet and still pulsing around you—

"Gonna cum," you warn her.

"Inside—" Her nails rake down your back. "Cum inside me, want to feel it—"

That does it. You bury yourself as deep as possible and let go. Your orgasm hits hard, pleasure whiting out your vision for a second as you empty yourself inside her. She's moaning at the feeling of it, at being filled, and her pussy is still fluttering around you, milking every drop.

"Fuck—fuck—Nakyoung—"

You collapse on top of her. Both of you breathing hard. Her hands stroke down your back, gentle now, soothing over the scratches she definitely left.

After a long moment she speaks.

"So," she says. "Same time tomorrow?"

You laugh breathlessly. "You're insane."

"You're still inside me."

Fair point.

You pull out slowly and she whimpers at the loss. Roll off her onto the bed. She immediately curls into your side, head on your chest.

"For the record," she murmurs, "the walls really are thin."

"I know."

"Your neighbors are definitely going to complain."

"Let them."

She grins against your skin. "Worth it?"

You look down at her—messy hair, flushed cheeks, satisfied smile.

"Yeah. Worth it."

~~~

Sorry for the long delay peeps! I keep on bouncing between stories, and I'm still working on a fluff I put off for far too long. For now, take a shorter Naky story to tide you guys over :))

Hope you guys enjoyed <3

[toshyunnn]

hello, can you make one for Chiquita?

firstly, sorry this account is inactive besides me reblogging my actual account, sorry!

second, fuck no. <3

third, find God <3 <3

[toshyun]

Obvious

NMIXX's Oh Haewon x Male Reader

5.5k words

"She was boring."

"Boring??" Haewon's voice pitches up half an octave, the way it always does when she's about to lose her shit at you. She's already sprawled out across damn near two-thirds of your couch, legs stretched out with her feet shoved under your thighs, and a takeout container balanced poorly on her lap. Pad thai, extra peanuts. She ordered for both of you before you even got home. "How was she boring?? She's a graphic designer who does rock climbing on weekends. That's like, the most interesting girl you've ever had a chance with."

You shrug, picking at your own noodles. "I don't know. She just... talked at me the whole time. About climbing grades and chalk bags and her gym's new route setter."

"Because you didn't ask any questions back!"

"I asked questions."

"'That's cool' is not a fucking question." Haewon points her fork at you accusingly. A peanut falls off and lands on your cushion. She doesn't notice. "You do this every single time. You just sit there and wait for the date to end instead of actually trying."

You flick the peanut onto the coffee table. "Maybe I'm trying with the wrong people."

"Oh my god." She drops her head back against the couch dramatically. "That's what you said about the last three. The barista was too talkative, the grad student was too serious, that girl from the bookstore was 'trying too hard'—your words, not mine."

"She laughed at everything I said. I wasn't even being funny!"

"You can be funny sometimes! It is pretty nice when you shut up though."

"Thanks."

"I'm just saying." Haewon scoops more noodles into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully before continuing. (With her mouth open, because she knows how much it grosses you out). "At some point you have to admit that maybe you're the problem. Not in a bad way! Just... you're picky."

She's not wrong. This is the fourth—no, fifth—setup she's arranged in the last two months, and you've found something wrong with all of them. Before that it was the clubbing phase, where she dragged you to three different places in one night and kept trying to push you toward girls on the dance floor. Then before that, the bar hopping disaster where you left after the second stop because there were too many people and the music was too loud and Haewon got annoyed that you were "wasting her effort."

She means well. You know she means well. Haewon "adopted" you four years ago—literally walked up to you in the campus library, declared you looked lonely, and inserted herself into your life with the kind of insane lack of social anxiety only extroverts possess. She's been trying to "fix" you ever since. Not in a malicious way. She just cannot for the life of her understand why you wouldn't want to be at a crowded theater on opening night or why you'd rather stay in than go to her friend's house party.

"Firstly, will you close your fucking mouth when you chew, you cow?" you start, pointing your chopsticks at her threateningly despite the smirk on her face. "Second, I'm not picky. I just know what I want."

"Okay, so what do you want?" She shifts, turning to face you fully now, pulling her feet out from under you to fold them underneath her. "Seriously. Describe your perfect person. Maybe I've been setting you up with the wrong type."

You pause, considering. You haven't really told her all of it before, not fully. "Someone who doesn't expect me to be someone I'm not, I guess."

"…well that's fucking vague. Keep going."

"Someone who gets that I don't always want to go out. Who's okay with just... this." You gesture vaguely at the apartment, at the two of you with takeout containers on a Friday night. "Someone who listens when I talk instead of just waiting for their turn."

Haewon is watching you now, her usual restless energy stilled.

"And like, someone who's funny. But not in a performing way. Just naturally funny, you know? Someone who makes me laugh without trying to."

"Uh huh."

"Someone who already knows me. Who I don't have to explain myself to every five seconds." You're picking up momentum now, the thoughts coming faster. "Someone who pushes me sometimes, but not in a way that makes me feel like I'm stupid. Like they see me and they're okay with that, but they also know when to tell me I'm being an idiot."

The apartment is very quiet suddenly. You look up from your noodles and find Haewon completely frozen, staring at you with an expression you've never seen on her face before. A look that makes you want to bust your ass laughing at her, if it isn't for the look in her eyes.

"What?" you ask.

She opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. "You're describing me."

The words just hang there. You open your mouth to argue, to say something, literally anything, but your brain has completely stalled out.

"You just described me," she says again, louder this time, sitting up straighter. Her takeout container tips and she catches it without looking, still staring at you. "Every single thing you just said. That's me."

"Haewon—"

"No, you shut up, let me—" She sets the container down on the coffee table too hard, sauce sloshing over the side. "I listen to you. I know you better than anyone. I push you but I don't try to change you, not really, I just want you to see that you're capable of more than you think you are." She's talking faster now, the way she does when she's figuring something out on the fly . "I'm funny, you laugh at my jokes all the time even when you're trying not to. And we do this—" she gestures wildly at the apartment, at the takeout, at the two of you, "—we do this like three times a week and you never complain about it."

Your heart is doing something weird in your chest. "That's not—"

"I told you to shut up." She shifts closer, her knee bumping into yours. "It is. It's me. You were describing me and you didn't even realize it."

You hadn't realized it. But now that she's said it out loud, now that she's sitting there looking at you like you're the stupidest person alive, you can't stop seeing it. Every failed date, every wrong person—none of them were Haewon. None of them knew that you fold your pizza or that you're weird about odd numbers or that you need at least twenty minutes of silence when you first wake up.

"Well… fuck." you say, very, very quietly.

"Yeah." Haewon laughs, but it sounds kind of breathless and almost nervous, which is wrong because this girl never gets nervous. "So what are we gonna do about that?"

"I don't—what?"

"What are we gonna do about it?" She's closer now, you didn't even see her move. Close enough that you can smell her shampoo, that coconut shit she's been using since sophomore year. "Because I'm sitting here realizing I've been setting you up with all these random girls when I—"

She stops. Bites her lip. You've seen her do that exactly twice before, both times before she did something completely impulsive and pretty fucking stupid.

"When you what?"

"When I want you for myself," she says quickly, and then she's kissing you.

It's not gentle or tentative or any of that movie bullshit. Haewon kisses you like she does everything else—fully committed, with no hesitation, her hand coming up to grab the front of your shirt and pull you closer. Your brain does that Windows blue-screen thing again where it just completely fucking blanks, and for a second you're just frozen with her mouth pressed against yours and your chopsticks still in your hand like an idiot.

Then your brain reboots and you drop the chopsticks and you're kissing her back.

She makes this sound against your mouth, something between a gasp and a laugh, and her other hand is in your hair now and she's practically climbing into your lap. You can taste the peanut sauce on her lips and it should be weird, this should be weird, this is Haewon, your best friend Haewon who you've known for four years and never once thought about like this—

Except that's a lie, isn't it? You have thought about it. Late at night when she's fallen asleep on this same couch during movie marathons, or when she shows up at your door at midnight because she had a bad date and wanted to complain about it to someone who actually listens, or every single time she laughs at something you said and looks at you like you're genuinely funny instead of just awkward.

You've thought about it and then immediately shoved it down because she's Haewon and she's your person and you couldn't risk fucking that up.

But she's kissing you now, so apparently she's been thinking about it too.

"Are you—" you start when she pulls back for air, but she cuts you off.

"If you ask me if I'm sure, I'm gonna punch you in the dick." Her pupils are blown wide and her lips are already looking darker and she's breathing hard. "I'm sure. Are you?"

You should probably think about this. You should probably consider the consequences and what it means for your friendship and all that responsible shit. But Haewon's in your lap now, her thighs on either side of yours, and she's looking at you like she's daring you to say no.

"Yeah," you say. "Yeah, I'm sure."

She grins, and it's that specific grin that means she's about to do something that will probably cause problems later but feels good now. Then she's kissing you again, harder this time, her tongue sliding against yours and her hips rocking forward just enough to make you groan into her mouth.

Your hands find her waist automatically, sliding under her shirt to touch bare skin, and she's so fucking warm. She shivers when your thumbs brush against her ribcage, arching into the touch, and you've never seen her like this—wanting something, wanting you, making these breathy little sounds every time you kiss down her neck.

"This is insane," you mutter against her collarbone.

"Yeah." She tugs your head back up to kiss you again, biting your lower lip just enough to sting. "Now are you going to keep overthinking or are you going to kiss the amazingly hot girl in your lap?"

You don't answer with words. You kiss her again, pulling her closer, and she makes this satisfied sound against your mouth like she's won something. Which, to be fair, she has.

Her hands are everywhere. In your hair, on your shoulders, sliding down your chest to grab at your shirt. She's impatient, tugging at the fabric like it's personally offending her, so you help her out and pull it over your head. It gets stuck on your ear for a second and she laughs, actually laughs while you're trying to be sexy, and somehow that makes it better.

"Smooth," she says.

"Shut the fuck up."

"Make me."

So you do. You kiss her hard enough that she gasps, your hands sliding up under her shirt to touch bare skin. She's so very warm under your palms, and when your thumbs brush against the band of her bra she arches into it.

"Off," she mutters, pulling back just enough to yank her own shirt over her head. No hesitation. Just Haewon being Haewon, direct and shameless. Her bra is light blue, something simple, and you're trying really hard not to stare but she catches you anyway. "You're staring."

"Yeah, no shit I'm staring."

She grins. Reaches back to unhook it herself because apparently waiting for you to figure it out would take too long. And then it's just Haewon, topless in your lap, looking at you like she's daring you to make the next move.

You've seen her in a bikini before. Pool parties, beach trips, that one time she dragged you to the lake at 6am because she "wanted to see the sunrise" (she fell asleep on the sand within twenty minutes). But this is different. This is her choosing to show you. Wanting you to look.

"You're overthinking again," she says. "I can literally see you thinking."

"I'm not—"

"You are." She takes your hands and puts them on her. No ceremony, no building up to it. Just her deciding that's what she wants and making it happen. "Stop thinking."

Your brain tries to comply. It's not easy when your hands are full of her, when she's making these soft sounds every time your thumbs brush over her nipples. She rocks her hips down against you and you're already hard, have been since she first kissed you, and the friction makes you groan.

"That's better," she says, breathless now. Her hands go to your belt. "This okay?"

"Very fucking okay."

She fumbles with the buckle. Her confidence wavers for just a second—fingers shaking slightly, taking two tries to get it undone—and that small crack in her composure does something to you. Makes it real. This is Haewon, nervous and wanting you, not just the perpetually confident girl who bulldozes through life.

You help her with your jeans. It's awkward, trying to shimmy them down while she's still in your lap, and you both have to stand up for a second to get them all the way off. Your knee hits the coffee table. She steps on the takeout container she set down earlier and there's a gross squelch.

"Oh, fuck, gross," she says, lifting her foot.

"You're the one who put it there."

"I was having an emotional crisis!"

You're both laughing now, standing half-naked in your living room with pad thai on her foot, and it's so stupid and so… Haewon… that you just kiss her again. She kisses back, still smiling, her hands on your face.

"Bedroom?" you ask against her mouth.

"Bedroom," she agrees.

You make it about five steps before she's on you again, pushing you against the wall in the hallway, kissing you like she can't wait the extra ten seconds it would take to get to the bed. Your hands find her ass and she grinds against you, her thigh slipping between yours.

"Someone's impatient," you mutter into her mouth, a smirk on your face.

"You have no fucking idea."

She bites your neck, right where it meets your shoulder, and your hips jerk forward. You can feel her grinning against your skin. She's enjoying this, getting you worked up, taking you apart in the middle of your own hallway.

"Bedroom," you try again. "Seriously."

"Fine."

But she makes you work for it, kissing you the whole way there, stopping every few steps to press you against another wall. Not that you complain, taking the time to get amazingly aquatinted with the surprisingly firm ass that this girl has been hiding from you. By the time you actually get to your room you're both breathing hard and you're pretty sure you're going to have bruises tomorrow from where she's been gripping your shoulders.

The bed is unmade. There's laundry on the floor. You didn't… exactly plan for this.

Haewon doesn't seem to care. She pushes you down onto the mattress and climbs on top of you, straddling your hips. Her hands go to the button of her jeans.

"You gonna help or just watch?"

"Hm… not sure." you say teasingly, "Watching the hot girl on top of me strip naked sounds pretty appealing right now."

"You motherfuck-" she raises a hand to smack you before deciding otherwise, "Help me out, you ass!"

You help.

Getting her jeans off is harder than it should be. She's trying to unbutton them while still straddling you, which doesn't work, so she has to shift to the side. You try to help but your hands get in the way of hers and she swats at you.

"I got it, I got it—fuck, these jeans are so tight."

"You're the one who bought them."

"They make my ass look good!"

"Can't argue with that."

"Perv."

She finally gets them unbuttoned and shimmies them down her hips. You help pull them off her legs, taking her socks with them because somehow socks during sex feels weird, and then she's just in her underwear. Light blue, matching her bra. You didn't think Haewon was the type to care about matching, but apparently you were wrong.

"Are you just gonna stare or are you gonna do something?" she asks, but there's no bite to it. She's looking at you with something almost nervous in her eyes, like for the first time tonight she's not entirely sure what happens next.

You reach for her. Pull her back down to you. "Come here."

She does, settling back in your lap, and when your hands slide up her thighs she shivers. Her skin is so fucking soft. You've thought about this before—in those brief moments you let yourself think about it—but imagination doesn't compare to reality. To the way she feels under your palms, so warm and real and responsive to every touch.

"You're being gentle," she says, and there's something in her voice you can't quite read.

"Is that bad?"

"No. Just... different. I thought you'd be more..." She trails off, her hands resting on your shoulders. "I don't know. Wasn't sure what to expect."

"I can be less gentle if you want."

"Maybe later." She leans down to kiss you, softer this time. "This is good."

Your hands map out her body. The curve of her waist, the flare of her hips, the smooth plane of her stomach. She's got muscle definition you never really noticed before—abs you can feel under your fingers, solid thighs from all those mornings she drags herself to the gym and complains about afterward. You're experimenting with her body, cataloging every response. The way she gasps when you squeeze her hips. The way she squirms when your fingers trail along her ribs.

"That tickles," she mutters.

"Yeah?"

"Don't you fucking dare—"

You do it again, just to hear her laugh, and she does. Squirms away from your hands with a breathless giggle that makes something warm bloom in your chest. She retaliates by biting your shoulder, not hard enough to really hurt but enough that you feel it. Enough that you're sure there'll be a set of bite marks there tomorrow. (You lowkey think she did it on purpose, marking her newfound territory. No complaints here).

"Brat," you mutter.

"You started it."

She's grinding against you now, probably without even thinking about it. Small movements of her hips that are driving you insane. You're still in your boxers and she's in her underwear and there's too much fabric between you but also maybe not enough, because the friction is so good it's almost too much.

"Haewon," you breathe out.

"Yeah?"

"I need—" You don't even know how to finish that sentence. Need to touch her more, need her closer, need to see if this is really happening or if you've lost your mind.

She seems to get it anyway. Slides off your lap just long enough to hook her thumbs in her underwear, and then she's pushing them down her legs. You watch, completely transfixed, as she kicks them off onto the floor with the rest of your clothes.

"Your turn," she says, nodding at your boxers.

You lift your hips and slide them off. Your cock springs free, hard and already leaking, and you watch her eyes track down to it. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips.

"Oh," she says quietly, almost to herself. Then, louder: "Okay. Yeah. That's... yeah."

"Wow. Feeling eloquent right now aren't we?"

"Oh fuck off." But she's grinning when she climbs back onto you, straddling your thighs. Her hand wraps around your cock and you nearly die on the spot. "Still think I'm eloquent?"

You can't answer. Her hand is moving, slow strokes from base to tip, and your brain has completely short-circuited. All you can do is groan and try not to buck up into her grip like a teenager.

"That's what I thought," she says, sounding smug.

You reach between her legs and find her wet. So very, very wet. She gasps when your fingers slide through her folds, her hand tightening around you.

"Fuck," she breathes.

"Yeah."

"Eloquent," she teases.

You find her clit, circle it with your thumb, and she rocks into your hand. Her head drops forward, hair falling around her face, and the expression she's making—lips parted, eyes half-closed—does something to you. This is Haewon. The Haewon, falling apart because of you.

"Inside," she says after a minute of that. "Want your fingers inside."

You give her what she wants. Slide two fingers into her and she's tight, so tight around you, her inner walls clenching as you work her open. She's still stroking you, her grip firm, her rhythm faltering every time you crook your fingers just right.

"God, that's—" She cuts herself off with a moan. "Right there, keep doing that."

You do. Find that spot inside her that makes her thighs shake, that makes her grind down harder on your hand. She's completely soaked now, her arousal coating your fingers, and the sounds she's making are going to live in your brain forever.

"I'm not gonna last," she pants. "If you keep doing that I'm gonna—fuck, I'm—"

She doesn't finish the sentence. Just clenches around your fingers and cries out, her whole body going taut. You work her through it, watching her face, watching the way she loses control. When she finally slumps forward against your chest, breathing hard, you carefully slide your fingers out.

"Holy shit," she mumbles into your neck.

"You good?"

"So good. Give me like... ten seconds to recover and then I'm gonna blow your mind."

You laugh. Can't help it. "No rush."

"Oh, there's definitely rush." She lifts her head to look at you, eyes dark. "Because I've been thinking about this for way longer than I've been willing to admit, and now that we're actually doing it I want everything."

"Everything?"

"Everything," she confirms. Then, with that grin that means trouble: "You got condoms?"

"Nightstand," you say, jerking your head toward it. "Top drawer."

Haewon reaches over, pulling the drawer open. She rummages around for a second, then another second, then looks back at you with this absolutely shit-eating grin on her face.

"You don't have any."

"What? Yes I do, I definitely—"

"Nope." She's full-on laughing now, holding the empty drawer open so you can see. "You're completely out. When's the last time you even used one?"

"That's—shut up."

"Oh my god, you really haven't been getting any action, have you?" She's enjoying this way too much, still straddling you, completely naked, while she roasts you. "How long has it been? Months? A year?"

"Haewon—"

"This is amazing. I've been setting you up with all these girls and you haven't even been prepared for if it actually worked out."

"Are you done?"

"Almost." But she's grinning as she leans down to kiss you. "It's fine. We don't need one."

That makes you pause. "What?"

"We don't need one," she repeats, rolling her hips against you. Your cock slides between her folds and you both groan. "It's fine."

"That's not—we should probably—"

"You worried about STIs? Because I'm clean, got tested like two months ago. You?"

"I mean, yeah, I'm clean, but—"

"Then what's the problem?" She rocks against you again and your brain is rapidly losing this argument. "Come on. Don't you want to feel me? All of me?"

Fuck. She's not playing fair. "Haewon, I really don't think—"

"I'll take care of it," she says, and there's something in her voice that makes you believe her even though you know you should push back on this. "Trust me. It's fine."

You should say no. You should insist on running to a 7-Eleven or something. But she's grinding against you, her pussy so wet that your cock is gliding through her folds, bumping against her clit, and the thought of being inside her without anything between you makes your decision-making abilities completely evaporate.

"Okay," you hear yourself say. "Okay, yeah, fuck it."

"That's my boy." She lifts up slightly, reaching between you to position your cock at her entrance. "Ready?"

You nod, not trusting your voice.

She sinks down slowly. Just the tip at first, and the heat of her is insane. Her pussy grips the head of your cock and you have to close your eyes because watching her take you might actually end this before it starts.

"Oh fuck," she breathes. "Oh fuck, you're—that's—"

She takes another inch. Then another. She's so tight that it's almost painful, her inner walls clenching around you as she adjusts. You grab her hips, trying to hold still, trying to let her set the pace, but every instinct is screaming at you to thrust up into her.

"Haewon," you grit out. "You feel so fucking—"

"I know." She sinks down further, taking more of you, and her thighs are shaking. "God, I know, you're so—nngh—you're stretching me so much."

Halfway now. Her head drops forward, hair falling around her face, and she's panting. You can feel her pussy fluttering around you, trying to accommodate your size, squeezing so tight that you genuinely might lose your mind.

"You okay?" you manage.

"So okay." She lifts up slightly, then sinks down again, taking even more. "Just—fuck—just give me a second."

You give her as long as she needs, even though your cock is screaming at you to move. Your fingers dig into her hips hard enough that you're definitely leaving marks, but she doesn't seem to mind. If anything, she rocks down harder, taking the last few inches all at once until she's fully seated in your lap.

"Oh my god," she whimpers. "Oh my god, you're so deep."

You're pretty sure you've stopped breathing. She's taken all of you, her ass resting against your thighs, and the feeling of being completely buried inside her with nothing between you is so overwhelming you can barely think.

"Move," you rasp. "Please, Haewon, you have to move or I'm gonna—"

She does. Lifts up slowly until just the tip remains inside her, then drops back down. The sound is obscene—slick and wet, skin meeting skin—and she moans so loud you're worried about your neighbors.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she chants, finding a rhythm. Rolling her hips, grinding down, taking you deep over and over. Her tits bounce with every movement and you can't look away. Can't do anything but hold on and try not to come immediately.

Your hands slide up from her hips to her breasts, squeezing, thumbs brushing over her nipples. She keens, her back arching, her pace faltering.

"That's—oh god, keep doing that."

You do. Play with her nipples while she rides you, watching the way her face contorts with pleasure. She's so fucking beautiful like this. Not the confident, brash Haewon who bulldozes through life, but this vulnerable version who's gasping and whimpering and falling apart on your cock.

"Harder," you tell her. "Want to feel you bounce on me."

She obeys immediately. Starts really riding you, lifting up and slamming back down, the wet slap of her ass against your thighs echoing through the room. Each impact drives you deeper, her pussy swallowing your cock completely, and the sounds she's making are absolutely filthy.

"Yes, yes, oh fuck yes—" Her words dissolve into incoherent moans. "So good, you feel so good, I can't—ahh—"

Your hips start moving on their own, thrusting up to meet her downward motion. The angle changes and she practically screams, her hands scrabbling at your chest.

"There! Right there, oh my god, right there—"

You hold her hips and fuck up into her, hitting that spot over and over. Her pussy is clenching around you rhythmically now, getting tighter, wetter, her arousal coating your cock and dripping down your balls.

"Touch yourself," you pant. "Want to watch you come on my cock."

Her hand flies to her clit immediately, fingers rubbing in quick circles. The visual of it—Haewon riding you, tits bouncing, touching herself while you're buried inside her—is almost too much to handle.

"Gonna—" She can barely get the words out. "Gonna come, I'm gonna—oh fuck, oh fuck, I'm—"

She comes with a sharp cry, her whole body seizing up. Her pussy clamps down on your cock like a vice and you have to stop moving entirely or you'll follow her over the edge. You can feel her pulsing around you, rhythmic squeezes that are absolutely destroying your self-control.

"Holy shit," she gasps when she can speak again. "Holy shit, that was—"

You don't let her finish. Flip her over onto her back, staying buried inside her, and she yelps in surprise.

"My turn," you growl.

Her legs wrap around your waist immediately, ankles locking behind you. "Fuck me," she demands. "Come on, fuck me properly."

You give her exactly what she wants. Start thrusting hard and fast, the bed frame banging against the wall with each movement. Her tits shake with the force of it and she's already moaning again, sensitized from her first orgasm.

"Yes, yes, just like that—" Her nails rake down your back. "Harder, give it to me harder—"

You hook one of her legs over your shoulder, changing the angle, and drive in deep. She practically sobs, her head thrashing on the pillow.

"Oh my god, you're so fucking deep, I can feel you in my stomach—"

The dirty talk is killing you. You can feel your orgasm building at the base of your spine, balls drawing up tight. You're not going to last much longer.

"Haewon," you warn. "I'm close, I need to—"

Her legs tighten around you. "No."

"What?"

"Stay inside." She's looking up at you with heavy-lidded eyes, lips swollen from kissing. "Want to feel you come inside me."

"That's not—we said—"

"I don't care." Her hips roll up to meet your thrusts. "Please. Want to feel it. Want you to fill me up."

Fuck. Your rhythm stutters, the mental image she's painting combined with the physical sensation of her pussy gripping you is too much.

"Haewon, seriously, I should pull out—"

"No." Her ankles lock tighter. "You're not pulling out. You're going to come inside me and that's final."

You try to pull back but she's got you trapped, her legs strong enough that you can't break free without really fighting her, and you're too close to the edge to think straight.

"Come on," she purrs. "Give it to me. Want to feel your cum."

That does it. Your orgasm hits like a freight train, pleasure whiting out your vision. Your cock pulses inside her, spilling directly into her pussy, and she moans like she can feel every spurt. You come so hard it's almost painful, emptying yourself completely, your hips jerking with aftershocks.

When you finally come back to yourself, you're collapsed on top of her, both of you breathing hard. Your cock is still inside her, softening now, and you can feel your cum starting to leak out around your shaft.

"Oh my god," Haewon says suddenly, her voice pitched high and panicked. "Oh my god, what did we just do?"

You lift your head to look at her. "What?"

"You came inside me!" She sounds genuinely distressed now. "Holy shit, you came inside me, I'm going to get pregnant, oh my god—"

Your heart stops. "You said it was fine! You said you'd take care of it!"

"I know what I said!" She sits up, pushing you off her, your cock slipping out with an obscene wet sound. "But I didn't think—oh god, there's so much—"

Panic is setting in now. "Haewon, I tried to pull out, you literally trapped me—"

"I wasn't thinking!" She's staring down at where cum is actively dripping out of her pussy, looking horrified. "Oh my god, my parents are going to kill me. Your mom is going to kill me. We're going to have to—"

"Okay, okay, let's not panic—" Though you're absolutely panicking. "We can get Plan B, right? That's a thing, we can—"

Haewon looks up at you. Then, slowly, a shit-eating grin spreads across her face.

"I'm fucking with you."

"...what?"

"I'm on the pill, you idiot." She starts laughing, full-on cackling at the expression on your face. "Have been for years. Birth control. We're fine."

The relief is so intense you feel lightheaded. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

"Your face!" She's still laughing, holding her stomach. "You looked like you were about to cry!"

"That's not funny!"

"It's a little funny."

"Haewon!"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry." But she's still grinning as she pulls you back down to her. "But seriously, we're good. I promise. I wouldn't have actually let you come inside if it wasn't safe."

You collapse next to her, adrenaline draining away. "You're the worst."

"But you love me anyway."

And fuck, you do. You really do.

[toshyun]

Behavior

IVE's Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader

5.3k words

The scream cuts through the surrounding noise of the restaurant like a knife.

"I said I wanted the table by the window!"

You're three tables away, finishing your own meal, when Jang Wonyoung—yes, the Jang Wonyoung—launches into what can only be described as a full-scale meltdown. She's standing now, chair knocked backward, pointing at the manager with one perfectly manicured finger.

"Do you have any idea who I am? Do you? DO YOU?"

The manager is stammering something apologetic. The staff are frozen. Other diners have their phones out, recording. This is going to be all over social media in about four minutes.

Your phone buzzes. A text from your contact at Starship Entertainment: She's doing it again. Please.

You sigh, setting down your fork. There goes your last night off.

"You're all incompetent!" Wonyoung is still going, volume increasing. "I will have every single one of you fired, I will—"

You stand up and walk over. She doesn't notice you until you're right there, and even then she barely glances at you before continuing her rant.

"—have this place shut down, my fans will—"

"Having fun?" you ask cheekily.

She whips around to look at you, eyes blazing. "Excuse me? Who the fuck are you?"

"Your new babysitter." You smile (half) apologetically, before you grab her around the waist and hoist her up over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes before she can process what's happening.

"What—put me down! Put me down right now!"

Her fists pound against your back. Her legs kick uselessly. She's tall—5'8"—but you've got the leverage and she's light enough that it doesn't matter. You nod a wordless apology to the manager and start walking toward the exit.

"I will have you arrested!" she shrieks. "I will sue you! I will—"

"Yeah, yeah, keep it coming. I've heard worse threats."

You push through the restaurant doors into the cool night air. She's still struggling, still yelling, drawing stares from everyone on the street. You spot the black company car idling at the curb and head toward it.

"Let me go, you fucking psycho!"

"Not a chance, princess."

The driver—bless him—has the door open before you even get there. You dump Wonyoung into the backseat with absolutely zero ceremony. She immediately tries to scramble back out but you're already sliding in after her, pulling the door shut.

"Drive," you tell the driver. He doesn't need to be told twice.

Wonyoung is glaring at you with enough venom to kill a small animal. Her hair is mussed, her designer outfit rumpled, and her face is flushed with rage.

"You have no right—"

"Actually, as of about fifteen minutes ago when Starship signed the contract, I have every right." You pull out your phone and show her the electronic signature on the agreement. "I'm your new behavioral specialist. Congratulations."

You give her some very authentic and heartfelt jazz-hands.

She snatches the phone from your hand, reads the document, and her face goes through several interesting color changes.

Huh. Didn't know skin could do that.

"No. Absolutely not. I refuse."

"You don't get a say."

"I'll fire you."

"You can't. Only the company can terminate my contract, and given how much they're paying me to fix your little attitude problem, that's not happening anytime soon." You lean back in the seat, completely relaxed. "So here's how this is going to work. You're going to go home, and I'm going to start doing my job."

"Your job?" She laughs, sharp and bitter. "And what exactly is your job?"

"Teaching you how to behave like an adult instead of a spoiled child throwing tantrums in public."

The look she gives you could melt steel. "I'm twenty-one years old—"

"Then start acting like it."

Her mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. You can see her searching for a comeback, for some threat that will make you back down. She's not going to find one.

"I hate you," she finally says.

"Aw gosh I just love you too, sweetheart. Now, are you going to walk into your apartment building like a civilized person, or am I carrying you again?"

The murderous silence that follows is answer enough.

~~~

She does, in fact, walk into the building like a civilized person. Barely. She's radiating fury with every step, and the doorman takes one look at her face and wisely decides not to make eye contact.

The elevator ride up to her penthouse apartment is silent except for the occasional sound of her grinding her teeth. You're scrolling through your phone, completely unbothered. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see her planning your murder.

Note to self. Don't eat or drink anything she makes. Second note. Check packages for pipe bombs.

The doors open. She storms out toward her door, fumbling with her keys because her hands are shaking with rage. It takes her three tries to get the key in the lock.

"Need some help with that?"

"Shut the fuck up."

She finally gets the door open and stalks inside. You follow, taking in the space. It's exactly what you'd expect—expensive, immaculate, probably costs more per month than most people make in a year. Floor-to-ceiling windows, designer furniture, all the usual spoiled-girl stuff.

Wonyoung whirls around the moment you close the door, pointing at you with that same accusing finger from the restaurant.

"Get. Out."

"Nope," you say, popping the "p".

"This is my home—"

"Which your company gave me full access to. It's in the contract." You pull out your phone again, but she swats it away before you can show her.

"That phone is expensive," you pout dryly.

"I don't care about your stupid contract! You can't just—"

"Throw a tantrum in a public restaurant? Scream at minimum wage workers? Make a scene that'll be trending on TikTok before you even get home?" You tilt your head. "Oh wait, you already did all that. That's why I'm here."

"You're here because Starship is full of controlling assholes who can't handle the fact that I have opinions—"

"You're here because you act like a spoiled brat and the company is tired of doing damage control."

Her face flushes red. "How dare you—"

"How dare I what? Tell you the truth? Call you out on your bullshit?" You shrug. "That's literally my job."

She takes a step toward you, getting in your face. Or trying to—you've got one whole inch on her and she has to tilt her head up just slightly. (A fact that you're loving, and you know she's hating). "I will make your life hell. I will make you regret ever taking this job. I will—"

"You're about to get spanked like the child you're acting like, is what's about to happen."

She blinks. "What?"

"You heard me."

"You—" She laughs, but it's disbelieving. "You can't be serious."

"Dead serious." You gesture to the couch. "Over my knee. Now."

"Absolutely fucking not."

"It's not a request."

She crosses her arms, chin lifting defiantly. "What are you going to do, force me?"

"If I have to."

She stares at you. You stare back. She's waiting for you to back down, to admit this is a bluff. You can see the exact moment she realizes you're not bluffing.

"You're insane," she says.

"And you're stalling."

She doesn't move. Fine. You walk over to the couch, sit down, and look at her expectantly. "Last chance to do this the easy way."

"Fuck you."

"Hard way it is."

You stand back up and she actually backs away, eyes widening slightly. "Don't you dare—"

You're faster than she expects. You grab her wrist and pull her toward you. She tries to fight it, but you've already got her positioned over your lap, face down, ass up. She's kicking and cursing, hands scrabbling for purchase on the couch cushions.

"Let me go! Let me go right now or I swear to god—"

You hook your fingers in the waistband of her designer pants and yank them down to her knees. She's wearing expensive lace underwear underneath. Those come down too.

The sudden exposure makes her freeze for half a second. "You did not just—"

The first smack lands on her bare ass and she yelps.

"What the fuck!"

The second one follows immediately. Then the third. You settle into a rhythm, alternating cheeks, not holding back. Your palm stings a little. Good—means you're doing it hard enough.

"Stop it! Stop it right now!" She's writhing in your lap, trying to twist away, but you've got one arm across her lower back holding her in place.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

"You can't—" Smack. "—do this to—" Smack. "—me!"

"Funny, seems like I can."

Her ass is already starting to turn pink. You can see her thighs trembling—whether from anger or exertion, you're not sure.

"I'll have you arrested for assault!"

"Good luck explaining to the police why you called them after your company-hired behavioral specialist disciplined you per your contract." Another smack, harder this time. "Clause seventeen, subsection three. You should really read things before your rep signs them."

She makes a sound of pure frustration, and then—is she trying to reach back and grab your hand? You catch her wrist easily, pinning it against her back.

"Let go of me!"

"Not until you calm down."

Smack. Smack. Smack.

Her ass is definitely pink now, bordering on red in some spots. She's stopped kicking as much, probably because her legs are tired. Her breathing is ragged.

"Are you done throwing your tantrum?" you ask.

"Fuck you," she gasps out.

Smack.

"Try again."

"I hate you—"

Smack. Smack.

"Still waiting for an actual answer!" you sing.

There's a long pause. You can feel her whole body tensed over your lap, rigid with fury and humiliation. Then, very quietly:

"...Yes."

"Yes what?"

Another pause. Her voice comes out strained. "Yes, I'm done."

"Good girl," you say teasingly.

You feel her twitch at those words. Interesting. You file that away for later.

You let her up. She scrambles off your lap immediately, yanking her underwear and pants back up with shaking hands. When she turns to face you, her eyes are glassy—not quite crying, but close.

"I hate you," she says again, but it sounds weaker this time.

"So you've mentioned." You stand up, brushing off your pants. "Tomorrow, same time. We're going to work on your public behavior."

"I'm not—"

"Yes, you are. Because if you throw another tantrum like tonight, we're doing this again. Except next time, I'll use a rice scooper."

Her face goes through several interesting expressions before settling on mortified rage.

Again with the skin colors. Is that just a 'her' thing or can every human do it?

"Get out," she whispers.

"Happy to. Don't forget—I'll be back tomorrow. G'night princess!"

You head for the door. Behind you, you hear her let out a scream of pure frustration into a couch cushion.

You're smiling as you leave.

This is going to be fun.

~~~ Day Three.

"I'm not doing this again," Wonyoung says the moment you walk through her door.

You're carrying coffee. Two cups. You set one down on her counter—the one that's definitely hers based on the just absolutely absurd amounts of different flavored syrup is in it—and take a sip of your own.

"You threw a tantrum at your stylist yesterday."

"She was trying to put me in something fucking hideous—"

"You called her a talentless whore and threw a shoe at her head."

Wonyoung's jaw sets. "She ducked."

"Barely." You gesture to the couch. "You know the drill."

She doesn't move for a solid thirty seconds, glaring at you with those pretty, dark eyes like she's trying to set you on fire with her mind. Then, with all the energy of someone walking to their own execution, she stalks over to the couch.

"I hate this," she mutters.

"So you've mentioned. Multiple times. Daily, actually."

This time she goes over your knee with slightly less fighting. Still cursing you out, still rigid with fury, but her pants come down faster. You're not sure if that's resignation or just her getting tired of the routine.

The spanking is just as thorough as the first time. Maybe more so, since she threw a shoe. Her ass goes from pale to pink to red, and by the end she's gasping into the couch cushions, thighs trembling.

"Are you done?" you ask.

"...Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I'm done," she grits out.

"Good girl."

That same twitch. A little shiver that runs through her whole body. You're starting to think that might be something important.

~~~

Day Seven.

She opens the door before you can knock.

"I didn't do anything," she says immediately.

"Jesus princess, I know. Chill out. This is a check-in."

"A what?"

"A check-in. To see how you're doing." You hold up a bag. "I brought breakfast."

She stares at you suspiciously, like you might have poisoned the pastries. Fair, given how much she's threatened to poison you.

"...What kind?"

"The kind you like. Your manager told me."

She hesitates, then steps aside to let you in. Progress.

You eat breakfast mostly in silence. She's watching you like a hawk, waiting for you to bring up some misbehavior, but you don't. Because she actually hasn't done anything wrong in almost three days, which just might be a personal record.

"Are you feeling okay?" she finally asks.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you're being... nice."

"I'm always nice."

She gives you a look that could peel the paint off of a car. "You spanked me two days ago."

"It was three days ago actually—"

The look intensifies.

"Because you earned it. You haven't earned it since." You surrender. "That's how this works. You behave, I'm nice. You throw tantrums, I correct the behavior."

She's quiet for a long moment, picking at her croissant. "This is weird."

"What is?"

"You. This. All of it." She waves her hand vaguely. "I thought you'd be like... I don't know. Mean all the time."

"Why would I be mean if you're behaving?"

She doesn't have an answer for that.

~~~

Day Fourteen.

"I wasn't that bad," Wonyoung argues as you sit down on her couch.

"You told a reporter to 'eat shit and die.'"

"He asked if I was dating anyone! For the fifth time!"

"And the professional response would have been...?"

She scowls. Over your lap she goes, pants down, and you notice she's wearing different underwear today. Still expensive, but... prettier? Is she picking out specific underwear for spanking sessions?

That's a weird thought. You file it away in the increasingly large "Wonyoung is Complicated" folder in your brain.

"This is humiliating," she mutters into the cushion.

"Yep. That's the idea."

Smack. Smack. Smack.

She's not fighting as much anymore. Still tense, still clearly very annoyed, but the kicking has mostly stopped. Now she just lies there and takes it, hands fisted in the couch fabric, making these little frustrated sounds.

"You're enjoying this," she accuses.

"The spanking? Sure. Your ass makes a very satisfying sound."

"That's not what I—" Smack. "—meant!"

You're pretty sure her face is as red as her ass at this point.

"Good girl," you say when you're done, and yeah, there's that full-body shiver again.

Definitely filing that away.

~~~

Day Twenty-One.

You notice it halfway through the spanking.

Wonyoung is over your lap, pants around her knees, and you're working through what's become an almost routine punishment for snapping at a staff member. Her ass is already pink, and she's doing that thing where she buries her face in the cushion and makes frustrated little sounds.

But something's different.

Your thigh, where her hips are pressed down, feels... wet.

You pause mid-smack. Wonyoung makes a small sound of confusion at the interruption.

You adjust your position slightly, and yeah. There's definitely a damp spot on your pants where she's been grinding against your leg. You can feel the heat of her even through the fabric.

Oh.

Oh.

Everything clicks into place at once. The shivers when you call her "good girl." The prettier underwear. The way she's stopped fighting as much. The way her breathing goes ragged during spankings now, and not just from exertion.

She's not just enduring this.

She's getting off on it.

"Wonyoung," you say slowly. "Are you wet right now?"

She goes completely still. "What? No. I don't—that's not—"

You slide your hand between her thighs and she gasps. Your fingers come away slick.

"Huh," you say mildly. "That's interesting."

"Don't—" She tries to scramble off your lap but you hold her in place with one hand on her lower back. "Let me up, this is—I'm not—"

"Relax." Your voice is calmer than you feel. Because this is a game-changer. This is so much better than you expected. "I'm not judging."

"You're—fuck—you're touching me—"

"Because you're soaking wet from being spanked like a brat." You slide two fingers through her folds again, just to watch her whole body jerk. "Which means we've been going about this all wrong."

"I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Sure you don't." You pull your hand away and let her up. She practically launches herself off your lap, yanking her pants up with shaking hands. Her face is flushed, her breathing uneven. "Here's what's going to happen. Tomorrow, same time. But we're trying a different approach."

"What approach?" She sounds suspicious and breathless and turned on, all at once.

"You'll see." You stand up, heading for the door. "Wear something pretty."

"I always wear something pretty, you asshole—"

You're grinning as you leave.

~~~

Day Twenty-Two.

She answers the door in a white silk robe.

Just the robe.

"This pretty enough for you jackass?" she asks, voice dripping with false sweetness and challenge.

"Perfect, actually." You step inside, and she backs up a step. There's something different in her eyes tonight. Still defiant, but with an edge of nervousness. Anticipation. "Living room."

"What are we—"

"Go."

She goes, and you follow. When she reaches the couch she turns to face you, arms crossed. The robe gapes slightly at her chest. She notices you looking and her chin lifts.

"So what's this 'different approach?'" she asks.

"Take off the robe."

Her eyes widen. "Ex-fucking-cuse me?

"You heard me." You sit down on the couch, legs spread, completely relaxed. "Take it off and come here."

"Are you insane? I'm not—"

"You were dripping on my leg yesterday from a spanking." You tilt your head. "Don't pretend you don't want this."

"I don't want anything from you—"

"Wonyoung." You let a hint of command into your voice. "Robe. Off. Now."

She stares at you for a long moment. You can see her brain working, trying to figure out if this is a test, a trick, something she can use against you. Then her hands go to the belt of her robe.

It falls open. She shrugs it off her shoulders and it pools on the floor.

Fuck.

She's wearing matching lingerie—black lace, expensive, the kind that probably costs more than your rent. Her body is just…ridiculous. Long legs, small waist, tits that are somehow perfect despite her frame.

"Happy?" she asks, but her voice wavers slightly.

"Very. Now come here."

She walks over slowly, stopping just in front of you. You reach out and pull her forward by the hips until she's straddling your lap. She gasps, hands going to your shoulders for balance.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Testing a theory." Your hands slide up her sides, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts. She shivers. "I think punishment is the wrong motivator for you. I think you need rewards instead."

"That's—" She cuts off with a small sound when you thumb over her nipples through the lace. "That's not true—"

"No?" You do it again and she rocks forward slightly, seeking more contact. "Then why are you already soaking wet?"

"I'm not—"

You slide one hand down between her legs, over her panties, and she's drenched. She gasps, hips jerking.

"Liar," you tease.

"Fuck you," she breathes.

"Maybe later." You rub slow circles over her clit through the fabric and watch her face. Her eyes flutter closed, lips parting. "Right now I'm going to make you cum until you can't think straight. And then we're going to see how well you behave after that."

"I hate you," she says, but it comes out as a moan.

"Sure you do, princess." You pull her panties aside and slide two fingers into her. She's so wet they go in easily, and she makes this choked sound, head falling forward. "Fuck, you're tight."

"Don't—ah—don't say things like that—"

"Why not? It's true." You curl your fingers to hit that spot inside her and she cries out. "You're so fucking tight and wet and you're about to cum on my fingers like a good girl."

She clenches around you at those last two words. Interesting.

"You like that?" You pump your fingers faster. "Like being called a good girl?"

"N-no—"

"Another lie." Your thumb finds her clit and she practically sobs. "It's okay, sweetheart. You can admit it. You can be good for me."

"I'm not—nngh—I'm not good—"

"You are. You're being so good right now. Taking my fingers so well." You lean in to speak directly into her ear. "Such a good girl."

She cums with a sharp cry, her whole body going rigid in your lap. Her pussy clenches rhythmically around your fingers, and you work her through it, not letting up until she's pushing weakly at your wrist.

"Too much—too sensitive—"

"I know, baby. I know." You ease your fingers out slowly and she whimpers. "But we're not done yet."

"What?"

You lift her off your lap and set her on the couch, then drop to your knees in front of her. Her eyes go wide.

"Wait—"

You hook your fingers in her panties and pull them down. She lifts her hips automatically to help, and then she's bare from the waist down, legs spread, pussy glistening.

"Oh my god," she breathes.

"Just relax." You kiss the inside of her thigh and she jumps. "Let me take care of you."

"This is—you don't have to—"

You lick up through her folds and holy shit. She tastes so fucking good, sweet and tangy, and you groan against her.

"Ahh~!" Her hands fly to your hair. "Fuck—fuck that's—"

You find her clit with your tongue, circling it slowly, and her thighs start to shake. She's still sensitive from the first orgasm, which means this is going to be quick.

"Oh god oh god oh god—" She's chanting now, hips rocking against your face. "Don't stop don't stop don't—nngh~!"

You slide two fingers back inside her while you work her clit and she nearly screams. Her nails dig into your scalp, probably leaving marks, but you don't care. You just keep going, keep licking and sucking and fingering her until she's trembling and gasping.

"I'm—oh fuck I'm—I'm cumming again—!"

She cums even harder than the first time, thighs clamping around your head, back arching off the couch. You can feel her pulsing around your fingers, hear her crying out, and you don't let up until she's pushing your head away.

"Can't—too much—please—"

You pull back and she's a mess. Hair disheveled, chest heaving, face flushed. There are tears at the corners of her eyes.

"You're so pretty when you cum," you tell her.

She makes a sound that might be a laugh or a sob. "You're insane."

"Maybe." You stand up, and she's watching you with heavy-lidded eyes. "But you're going to keep cumming for me anyway."

"I can't—"

"You can." You start unbuckling your belt. "And you will."

Her eyes drop to your hands, watching as you unzip your pants. When your cock springs free—you weren't wearing boxers—she stares.

"Oh fuck," she whispers.

"Like what you see?"

"That's... that's not going to fit."

You laugh. "It will. Trust me."

"I don't trust you—"

"Yes you do." You stroke yourself slowly and watch her eyes track the movement. "On your knees, baby."

She slides off the couch onto shaky legs, then drops to her knees in front of you. From this angle she has to look up, and there's something incredibly satisfying about having her below you like this.

"Open your mouth," you tell her.

She does. You guide your cock between her lips and she makes a sound, hands coming up to grip your thighs. You don't push too deep—not yet. Just let her get used to the weight of you on her tongue.

"Good girl," you murmur. "Such a good girl for me."

She makes a muffled sound and you feel it vibrate through your cock. Fuck.

"You can take more," you tell her. "Take more for me, baby."

She does, sinking down further, and when you hit the back of her throat she gags slightly. You pull back.

"Breathe through your nose. That's it. Good."

You set a slow rhythm, letting her adjust, praising her the whole time. And she responds to it, you can see it in her eyes. Every "good girl" makes her press her thighs together. Every word of praise makes her take you deeper.

"Fuck, your mouth feels so good," you groan. "You're doing so well."

She moans around your cock and you nearly lose it right there.

"Okay—okay stop—" You pull out and she gasps for air, a string of saliva connecting her lips to your cock. "Bedroom. Now."

She stands on shaky legs and you follow her to the bedroom, admiring the view. That ass, fuck. You're going to leave marks all over it later.

She climbs onto the bed and turns to face you, reaching back to unhook her bra. It falls away and you just stare for a moment.

"Stop looking at me like that," she says, but there's no bite to it.

"Like what?"

"Like you're going to devour me."

"I am going to devour you." You climb onto the bed, caging her beneath you. "I'm going to fuck you until you forget your own name."

"That's—" You kiss her and she melts into it, hands coming up to grip your shoulders. When you pull back she's breathless. "That's a big promise."

"I know." You line yourself up with her entrance. "Ready?"

"I—yes—fuck—"

You push in slowly and she gasps, nails digging into your skin. She's so tight it almost hurts, and you have to pause after just the tip.

"Oh my god oh my god oh my god—"

"Breathe, baby. Just breathe for me."

She takes a shaky breath and you push in further. Inch by inch, giving her time to adjust, praising her the whole way.

"That's it. You're doing so well. Taking me so well."

"Too big—you're too big—"

"You can take it. I know you can." You bottom out and she makes a choked sound. "There we go. Good girl. Such a good girl."

She's trembling beneath you, adjusted to your size. You stay still for a moment, letting her adjust, and then you start to move.

"Ahh~ ahh~ oh fuck~"

She's so wet that the slide is easy despite how tight she is. You set a steady rhythm, deep strokes that have her gasping with each thrust.

"Feel good?" you ask.

"Yes—fuck—yes it feels good—"

"Good." You angle your hips slightly and she cries out. "That the spot?"

"Yes! Right there right there don't stop—"

You don't. You fuck her steadily, hitting that spot over and over, watching her face. She's gorgeous like this—lost in pleasure, no bratty mask, just pure need.

"Touch yourself," you tell her. "Make yourself cum on my cock."

Her hand flies between her legs and within seconds she's clenching around you, cumming with a loud cry. Her whole body shakes and you have to grit your teeth to keep from following her.

"That's three," you manage. "Think you can give me another?"

"I can't—too much—"

"You can." You pull out and flip her over. "On your knees."

She struggles up onto shaky limbs, ass in the air, face pressed into the pillow. The sight of her like this—presenting herself, completely wrecked—does something to you.

You line up and push back in, and from this angle you go even deeper. She screams into the pillow.

"Fuck!" you grunt. "You feel so fucking good like this."

"Please—please—I can't—"

"Yes you can, baby. You're going to cum one more time for me." You reach around to rub her clit and she sobs. "Be a good girl and cum on my cock."

"Can't—too sensitive—ah! Ah! Ahh~!"

You fuck her harder now, chasing your own orgasm. She's clenching around you rhythmically, and you can tell she's close again despite her protests.

"Cum for me, Wonyoung. Cum for me like a good girl."

"I'm—oh god—I'm cumming~!"

She cums so hard she nearly collapses, and you have to hold her hips up. The feeling of her pussy spasming around you tips you over the edge.

"Fuck—I'm cumming—"

You bury yourself deep and cum hard, filling her up. She makes this broken sound as she feels it, her body going limp.

When you finally stop pulsing you collapse next to her. You're both breathing hard, covered in sweat. There's cum leaking out of her onto the sheets.

"Holy shit," she whispers after a long moment.

"Yeah."

She turns her head to look at you, and there's something different in her eyes. "Are we going to do that again?"

You laugh. "Definitely. But first you're going to prove you can behave for a full week."

"That's not fair—"

"Very fair, actually. Good behavior gets rewarded. Bad behavior gets punished." You reach over to brush hair out of her face. "Up to you which one you want."

She's quiet for a moment. Then: "...What if I want both?"

"Greedy."

"Is that a no?"

"That's a 'we'll see how it goes.'"

She smiles, and it's the first genuine smile you've seen from her.

Progress.

~~~ Three Months Later.

"Morning," Wonyoung says when you let yourself into her apartment.

She's at the kitchen counter in an oversized shirt—your shirt, you realize—drinking coffee. Her hair is messy, there are marks on her neck from last night, and she looks so very content.

"Morning." You grab the coffee she made for you. "Busy day?"

"Photo shoot at two. Interview at five. I'll be done by seven."

"Want me to come by after?"

"No shit Sherlock." She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. "I bought that thing you mentioned."

"What thing?"

"The...thing." Her cheeks go slightly pink. "For... you know."

Oh. That thing. "Adventurous."

"Shut up."

You laugh and pull her in for a kiss. She melts into it immediately, making a pleased sound.

"Behave today," you tell her when you pull back.

"I always behave now."

"Sure you do."

"I do! I've been perfect for weeks!"

"Three days ago you told a sasaeng fan to eat glass."

"That's different—they were following me—"

"I'm not saying it wasn't deserved." You kiss her forehead. "I'm saying watch your temper."

She grumbles but nods. "Fine. But you owe me later."

"Deal."

When you arrive that night, she's already naked, kneeling on the bed exactly how you taught her. Hands behind her back, thighs spread, head down.

"Good girl," you say, and watch her shiver.

Some things never change.

You undress slowly, letting her wait. When you finally join her on the bed she looks up at you with those dark eyes, and there's nothing but want there.

"Please," she whispers.

"Please what?"

"Please fuck me. I've been good. I've been so good."

"You have." You cup her face. "You've been perfect."

You fuck her slowly this time. Taking your time, praising her, making her cum twice before you even get close. When you finally do cum, buried deep inside her, she's sobbing your name into the pillow.

Afterward, she curls into your side, boneless and satisfied.

"Same time tomorrow?" she murmurs.

"Yeah, princess. Same time tomorrow."

[toshyun]

Maintenance

Babymonster’s Enami Asa x Male Reader

2.8k words

Special thank you to @prael for organizing this round of prompts!

~~~

You're three missions deep into a game you really should've stopped playing an hour ago when someone starts pounding on your door.

Not knocking. Fucking pounding.

You pause mid-reload, frowning at the screen. It's 2pm on a Saturday. You're in sweatpants that have seen better days and a shirt with a stain you're pretty sure is from Thursday's lunch. Nobody should be here.

The pounding continues.

"Alright alright, Jesus fuck, I'm coming (that's what she said)," you mutter, dropping the controller and hauling yourself off the couch.

You open the door and your brain immediately blue-screens.

Asa from 3B is standing in your hallway. 

Wearing nothing but a towel.

A white towel. Tucked under her arms, barely secure, showing way too much leg and the curve of her shoulders. She's dripping—fully dripping—water pooling on your doormat. Her hair is soaked, and there's shampoo suds sliding down the side of her face.

"My water's out," she says, like this is completely normal. Like she's not standing there practically naked. "Can I use your shower?"

You open your mouth. Close it. Your brain is trying to process several things at once and failing spectacularly. You're pretty sure you're doing a damn convincing cosplay of a fish out of water.

"I—what?"

"Water. Out." She tilts her head and more shampoo slides down toward her eye. She squints, annoyed. "Middle of washing my hair. Building maintenance isn't answering. So can I use your shower or not?"

"Oh. Uh. Yeah, of course, I just—"

She's already walking past you into your apartment before you even finish the sentence. Just strides right in, leaving wet footprints on your floor, completely unbothered by the fact that she's in a towel in her neighbor's apartment.

You close the door slowly, still trying to catch up to what's happening, decidedly looking anywhere besides your neighbor's… very attractive legs… 

Stop being a pervert.

"You live alone, right?" she asks, glancing around. Her eyes land on the pile of dishes in the sink, the controller on the couch, and the bag of chips you left open on the coffee table.

"Yeah."

I can tell, her eyes say.

"Good." She spots the hallway leading to what she correctly assumes is the bathroom. "That way?"

The fuck does 'good' mean?

"Yeah, second door, but—"

She's already heading that direction. You follow, because what else are you supposed to do? 

She stops at the bathroom door, hand on the handle.

"Towels?" she asks.

"Uh, cabinet under the sink. But you already have—"

"This one's wet." She says it like you're being slow on purpose. "I'll need a dry one after."

"Right. Yeah. That makes sense."

There's shampoo dripping dangerously close to her eye now and she wipes at it with the back of her hand, still holding the towel secure with the other. "You got conditioner?"

"I... don't think so?"

She looks at you like you've just admitted you don't own furniture. "What do you mean you don't think so?"

"I use, uh, the three-in-one—"

"Oh my god." She laughs and shakes her head. "Of course you do. Whatever, I'll survive. Thanks for this, by the way."

And then she's in your bathroom, door closing behind her, and you're standing in the hallway trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.

The water starts running and you're still standing there like an idiot.

You force yourself to walk back to the living room. You sit back down on the couch. Pick up the controller. Stare at the screen without actually seeing it.

There's a girl in your shower. A naked girl. Not even just a naked girl.

It's Asa. Your hot neighbor who you've exchanged maybe twenty-four words with total. Who you've definitely noticed in the hallway, in the elevator, that one time she was getting her mail in running shorts. And now she's naked in your bathroom, using your terrible 3-in-1 soap, probably judging every aspect of your life.

You unpause the game and die instantly because you're not paying attention. The water is still running and you're trying so very hard not to think about what's happening not even ten feet away.

"Hey!" Her voice cuts through the sound of the shower.

You duck and nearly drop the controller. "Yeah?"

"Your water pressure is amazing!"

"Oh. Uh. Thanks?"

What the fuck are you supposed to say to that?

"Way better than mine!" she continues, and you can hear the smile in her voice. She's genuinely enjoying this. "I might have to come over every time!"

She's joking. Probably joking. You hope she's joking because your brain cannot handle the thought of this becoming a regular thing.

The water runs for another few minutes. You're hyperaware of every sound - the shower shutting off, the cabinet opening (she's getting one of the towels), the bathroom door unlocking.

"Hey, do you have a—"

She opens the door and leans out, and your brain short-circuits for the second time today because she's wrapped in your towel now. Your dark blue towel that's way too big for her, tucked under her arms, her shoulders and collarbones still wet.

"—hair dryer?" she finishes.

You blink at her stupidly. "Huh?"

"Hair dryer. Do you have one?"

"Why would I have a hair dryer?"

She looks at your admittedly short hair, then nods like that's fair. "Right. Okay. I'll just..." She gestures vaguely at her wet hair.

"I have, uh..." You try to think. "A towel? Another towel?"

"That's fine. I'll just air dry." She steps fully out of the bathroom now, padding barefoot across your floor, leaving little wet footprints. "You mind if I wait a bit? I don't want to go back to my place like this."

"No, yeah, that's fine. Totally fine."

She settles onto the other end of your couch, tucking her legs under her, completely at ease in your towel in your apartment. You're still holding the controller, game paused, trying to figure out where to look that isn't directly at her.

"You can keep playing," she says, nodding at the screen. "I'll just sit here."

"Right. Yeah." You unpause and die immediately again.

She laughs. "You're terrible at this."

"I'm distracted."

"By what?" There's something in her voice that makes you look at her, and she's got this expression on her face that's not quite innocent. Like she knows exactly what she's doing. She tilts her head.

"By... the current situation."

"What situation?" She's absolutely fucking with you now. "I'm just sitting here."

"You're sitting here in a towel."

"Would you prefer I wasn't in a towel?" She grins slyly. "Because I can work with that."

Your brain stops functioning.

She shifts on the couch. Or at least you think she does—you're trying so hard not to stare at where the towel is tucked that you don't notice her getting closer until suddenly she's right there. Not on her end of the couch anymore. Right next to you, her thigh almost touching yours.

"You know," she says, and her voice has dropped lower, "I've been thinking."

"About what?"

"About how we live on the same floor." She leans in slightly. You can smell your body wash on her skin. "Same building. Same floor. Same water line."

Your eyes flick to hers. She's got this look on her face—amused, knowing.

"So if my water's out..." she continues, a shit-eating grin forming on her face. "Why isn't yours?"

Oh.

Oh.

"You—"

"There we go," she says, and then she's climbing into your lap.

The controller falls to the floor. Your hands automatically go to her waist—to steady her, to stop her, you're not sure—but she's already settling her thighs on either side of yours, towel riding up dangerously high.

"Is this okay?" she asks, but she's already leaning in.

"Yeah," you manage hoarsely. "Yeah, that's—"

She kisses you before you can finish. Her lips are soft and she tastes like your toothpaste (she used your toothbrush? Jesus). Then her hands are in your hair and you're kissing her back before your brain even has the chance to catch up.

She makes this little pleased sound against your mouth, pressing closer. The towel is the only thing between you and you can feel the heat of her through your sweatpants. Your hands tighten on her waist and she grinds down slightly, testing.

You groan into her mouth and she pulls back just enough to grin at you.

"Thought so," she says cheekily. 

Then she's kissing you again, harder this time. Her tongue slides against yours and her hips roll forward, grinding against the bulge in your sweatpants. You're already getting hard and she can definitely feel it.

"Asa—" you start, but she catches your bottom lip gently, tugging at it with her teeth and whatever you were going to say disappears.

Her hands slide down from your hair to your shoulders, then lower, fingers curling in your shirt. "Off," she murmurs against your mouth.

You help her pull it off, and then her hands are on your chest, tracing the lines of muscle. She pulls back to look at you properly, appreciation clear in her eyes.

"Not bad," she says.

"Thanks, I guess?"

She laughs, then kisses you again. This time when she grinds down you thrust up to meet her and she gasps, breaking the kiss.

"Bedroom?" you suggest.

"Not yet." Her hands go to the towel tucked at her chest. "I want you to touch me first."

She pulls the towel loose and it falls away.

Fuck.

You've thought about this—of course you've thought about this, she's gorgeous and lives twenty feet away—but imagination doesn't even come close to reality. She's right here in your lap, completely naked, skin still slightly damp from the shower.

Your hands move without conscious thought, sliding up her sides to cup her breasts. She arches into the touch, head falling back.

"Mmph~ yes," she breathes. "Like that."

You thumb over her nipples and they harden under your touch. She rocks her hips against you again, more deliberately now, and you can feel the heat of her even through your sweatpants.

Wait. Why should you just sit here and let her control everything?

The thought clicks something into place. Your hands tighten on her waist and you stand up in one smooth motion, taking her with you. She yelps in surprise, legs wrapping around your waist instinctively.

"What are you—"

You set her down on the couch, on her back, and settle between her spread thighs. "My turn," you say.

Her eyes widen slightly, then darken. "Okay then."

You kiss down her neck, her collarbone, taking your time. She's squirming under you, impatient, but you ignore it. Kiss between her breasts, down her stomach, lower.

"Oh fuck," she breathes when she realizes what you're about to do.

You kiss the inside of her thigh, then the other one, deliberately avoiding where she wants you. She makes a frustrated sound.

"Stop teasing, you fu—"

You lick up through her folds and she chokes on whatever she was going to say. She's already wet, and the taste of her makes you groan even louder than she does. You do it again, slower this time, and her hips jerk up.

"Ahhn~ fuck—yes—"

You find her clit with your tongue, circling it, and her hands fly to your hair. She's making these breathy little sounds, "ah—ah—" every time you hit the right spot.

"Right there," she pants. "Don't stop, please don't stop—"

You slide two fingers into her while you work her clit with your tongue and she practically sobs. She's tight around your fingers, already clenching, and when you curl them to hit that spot inside her she cries out.

"Oh god—nngh—oh fuck—I'm—"

She cums with a sharp gasp, thighs clamping around your head, pussy pulsing around your fingers. You work her through it until she's pushing at your head, oversensitive.

When you pull back she's sprawled on your couch, chest heaving, looking so very wrecked.

"Holy shit," she mumbles.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, a wide smile on your face. "Bedroom now?"

"Yes. Fuck yes." She sits up, then notices the bulge straining against your sweatpants. "But first—"

She drops to her knees on the floor and your brain short-circuits for the third time today.

"Asa, you don't have to—"

"I want to." She hooks her fingers in your waistband and pulls your sweatpants down. Your cock springs free—you weren't wearing boxers—and her eyes go wide. "Oh. Okay. That's..."

"What?"

"Nothing." But she's grinning as she wraps her hand around you. "No complaints here."

Then she leans forward and takes you in her mouth.

"Ohhhh fuck—"

She can't take all of you—you're too big—but what she does take feels incredible. Her tongue works the underside while her hand strokes what doesn't fit, and you have to brace yourself against the back of the couch to stay upright.

She pulls off with a wet pop, looking up at you with those big eyes. "Good?"

"You know it's good."

She smirks at that, then takes you back in her mouth, deeper this time. You can feel yourself hitting the back of her throat and she moans around you, the vibration making your hips jerk.

"Asa—fuck—if you keep doing that I'm gonna—"

She doubles down, sucking harder, and you have to physically pull her off before you lose it.

"What's wrong? Gonna blow a load down my throat already?" She pouts.

"Bedroom," you say roughly. "Now. Before I pump everything I have into that mouth of yours."

"Promise we can try that next time?"

Next time. Fuck.

"Yeah. Promise."

You pull her up and kiss her hard, tasting yourself on her lips. Then you're half-walking, half-stumbling to the bedroom, stopping every few steps because you can't stop kissing her.

You get her to the bed and she climbs on, crawling backward, completely unselfconscious in her nakedness. You strip off your sweatpants the rest of the way and follow her.

"How do you want me?" she asks.

"On your back. Want to see your face."

She grins and lies back, spreading her legs. You settle between them, lining yourself up, and pause.

"You sure about this?"

"If you don't fuck me in the next ten seconds I'm going to lose my mind," she says flatly.

Good enough.

You push inside slowly. She's tight—so very tight—and you have to go slow or you'll hurt her. She's making these little whimpering sounds, "oh—oh god—you're so big—"

You're halfway in and you pause, letting her adjust. She's trembling, stretched around you, and you lean down to kiss her.

"You okay?"

"Very okay. Keep going."

You push in the rest of the way and she moans, nails digging into your shoulders. Fully seated inside her, you have to stay still for a second or you're going to lose it immediately.

"Move," she pants. "Please move."

You start with slow, deep thrusts. She's so wet that the slide is easy, and the sounds are obscene—slick and dirty. She's moaning with every thrust, "yes—fuck—yes—"

"Harder?" you ask.

"Harder."

You give her what she wants. Snap your hips forward, really driving into her, and she nearly screams. Her legs wrap around your waist, heels digging into your ass.

"There—right there—mmph—oh fuck—"

You can feel her getting tighter, clenching around you rhythmically. She's close again.

"Touch yourself," you tell her. "Want to feel you cum on my cock."

Her hand flies between you, fingers working her clit, and within seconds she's cumming. Her pussy clamps down on you like a vice and you have to stop moving or you'll follow her over the edge.

"Oh my god—oh fuck—" She's shaking through it, eyes squeezed shut.

When she finally goes limp you pull out and flip her over.

"Ass up," you tell her.

She scrambles to comply, getting on her hands and knees, presenting herself to you. The view is incredible—her ass displayed, her pussy glistening and swollen from being fucked.

You line yourself up and push back in, and from this angle you go even deeper. She moans into the pillow, back arching.

"Fuck—yes—"

You grab her hips and really fuck her now. Hard, fast, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. She's moaning continuously, "ah—ah—ah—" with each thrust, and you can feel your orgasm building.

"I'm close," you warn her.

"Inside," she gasps. "Cum inside me—"

"Asa—"

"Please—wanna feel it—"

You reach around to rub her clit and she screams into the pillow, gripping your sheets, cumming again. Her pussy spasms around your cock and that's it—you're done. Your orgasm slams into you and you bury yourself deep, cumming hard, filling her up.

"Fuck—fuck—Asa—"

You can feel yourself pulsing inside her, pumping her full, and she's moaning at the sensation. When you finally stop you collapse on top of her, both of you breathing hard.

After a long moment, she speaks.

"So," she says, voice still muffled by the pillow. "Same time next week when my water mysteriously stops working again?"

You laugh breathlessly. "100%."

[toshyun]

Provocation

aespa's Ning Yizhuo x Male Reader

4.6k words

Yizhuo stretches in the passenger seat. That sigh—you know that sigh.

"Manager-nim." Sweet voice. Fake as fuck. "I was thinking about you on the way home."

You keep your eyes on the road. "Yeah?"

"Mm." She shifts. Skirt riding up her thighs, and she knows you noticed. "Must be lonely. Going home to that empty apartment again."

Your grip tightens on the wheel. Empty apartment. You had her bent over your kitchen counter yesterday morning, made her late to practice because she couldn't stop cumming on your cock. But sure. Empty.

"Real thoughtful of you."

Another sigh. Heavier. "When's the last time you even had sex? Like, good sex?"

She sounds so very genuine. So worried. Like she gives a shit about your fictional dry spell instead of the fact that your cum was dripping down her thighs two days ago.

"It must be frustrating," she continues. "Being alone like that."

Your cock twitches. She knows exactly what she's doing, and fuck her, it works every time. Those big concerned eyes, that worried little pout—meanwhile she's probably, no, DEFINITELY wet thinking about where this is going.

"I'm fine."

"Are you though?" Leaning forward now. Her top shifts and you catch cleavage. Absolutely not a coincidence. "I read this article about men who don't get regular sex. They get irritable. Unfocused. Their performance suffers."

Performance. That word just hanging there between you.

Your knuckles go white on the wheel. You don't respond.

"Nothing to say?" She settles back. That little bounce that makes her tits move just right. "I just worry, you know? Some of the other managers seem so... relaxed. Confident. Like Manager Kim—I heard he's seeing someone regularly."

Manager Kim. That smug asshole. Meanwhile according to Yizhuo, you're jerking off alone like some teenager. If he only knew you had her screaming your name last Thursday, makeup running down her face.

"Good for him."

"Right? Physical release is so important for men. That outlet, that—" She actually purrs it. "—pleasure. Not just..." Her fist jerks in the air. So crude. Deliberate.

Jesus Christ.

"Thanks for the concern."

"I'm serious!" Turning in her seat now. Full attention on you, and her skirt's high enough you can see lace. The same panties you pulled aside with your teeth two days ago. "It's not healthy going so long without companionship. Maybe I should set you up? I know some sweet girls who might like an older guy."

Older guy. Fuck her sideways. You're barely older than she is.

"I can handle my own dating life."

"But you're not!" Her voice kicks up, filled with artificial worry. "When's the last time you even tried? Actually talked to a woman, flirted, made her feel desired?"

Her hand lands on your arm. Light touch. Innocent. Except it shoots straight to your dick because she knows what her touch does to you.

"I prefer quality over quantity."

She laughs. Bright and mean. "Quality? You can't have quality if you don't have anything at all. And from what I can see..."

Her eyes drop to your lap. To where your cock is straining against your pants.

"...you're definitely not getting anything."

The car swerves. Just slightly. Her hand shoots to your thigh to steady herself—landing way too close to your erection.

"Careful!" Fake concern. Her thumb strokes across your pants. Could be played off as an accident. It isn't. "See? You're so pent up it's affecting everything."

"I'm fine, Yizhuo."

"Are you sure? Your body's telling a different story." Her hand stays on your thigh. Burning through the fabric. "Poor thing. Must be so hard acting normal when you're this needy. This desperate."

Desperate.

Your cock pulses and she definitely feels it.

"Maybe I could help." Her fingers trace patterns on your thigh. "I know some techniques. Things I've learned from more experienced partners."

More experienced partners. She's really laying it on thick now. Like her previous hookups ever made her squirt the way you do. Never made her beg until her voice gave out.

"Very generous."

"I mean it! I could teach you things. What women really want, how to touch them properly..." Her voice goes breathy. Fingers moving higher. "I've been with men who really know what they're doing. The kind who make you come so hard you forget your own name."

"You think I need a lesson?"

"Oh, I'm sure you have the basics." Patronizing. Sweet. Makes you want to bend her over the hood right here in traffic. "But there's more to it than just putting it in and hoping for the best. Technique matters. Stamina. Understanding a woman's body..."

She shifts again and—fuck. Her panties are wet. Dark patch spreading across the lace. The little hypocrite is getting herself turned on talking about your supposed inexperience.

"For instance." Still going, completely oblivious that you've noticed. "Most men don't realize the clit has over 8,000 nerve endings. They think they can just rub roughly and expect results. But it takes finesse. Patience..."

Her breathing picks up. Nipples hard under her top.

This is insane. Getting wet from her own story about teaching you to fuck. While her body proves how well you already know.

"Fascinating."

"Right? And oral sex—God, most men are terrible at it. No rhythm, no understanding. I've had to fake it so many times." She sighs, thighs pressing together. "But the good ones... they can make you cum with just their tongue. Make you shake and cry and beg."

Last Thursday. She’s talking about last Thursday. You kept her on edge for an hour before letting her cum so hard she nearly blacked out. She's describing this shit like it's some fantasy she's never had.

"Sounds nice."

"It is." Pure sin in her smile now. Pretense gone. "Just last week, actually. This guy I've been seeing... God. He knows exactly how to touch me, what I need. Fucks me so good I can barely walk the next day."

Your hands shake on the wheel.

She notices.

"You okay? You seem tense." Tongue darting out to wet her lips. Deliberately provocative. "Like you need to work out some aggression."

"I'm fine."

"Mm. Maybe you should try what my guy does when he's worked up. Takes all that tension and just... channels it. Into something physical. Something intense." Voice dropping to a whisper. "He gets so rough with me sometimes. So demanding. And I love every fucking second of it."

There. The crack in her act. The real Ningning underneath—the one who begs you to pull her hair, pin her down, fuck her like you own her.

But she catches herself. Expression smoothing back to concerned friend.

"Sorry. Probably shouldn't talk about good sex when you're not getting any."

Pause. Eyes meeting yours.

"Wouldn't want to tease you."

Tease. She said it. Admission hanging there, and for a second her mask drops completely. You see the hunger. The desperate need for you to snap.

"How thoughtful."

"I just feel bad. Here I am getting fucked stupid on a regular basis, and you're going home alone to jerk off to porn. It's so..."

"So what?"

"Pathetic."

The word lands. Something snaps.

Red light ahead. You brake hard. She jolts forward, seatbelt catching her with a click. Car behind you honks.

You’re past caring.

"You know what, Yizhuo?" Your voice comes out quiet. Dangerous.

Her eyes go wide. That gleam of satisfaction underneath—she knows she finally hit the target.

"What?" Breathless.

"You're absolutely right."

Light turns green. You don't accelerate. Sharp right instead. Then another. The route to an overlook burning itself into your brain as you take each turn.

"Where are we going?" Excited, not concerned.

"You said I need to work out some aggression. Channel my energy into something physical." Final turn onto a dark empty road. No streetlights. Just trees and darkness and the perfect place to remind her who she belongs to.

"I was just trying to help—"

"Oh, you've been very helpful, Ning." The nickname slips out and her pupils blow wide. "Real educational. All those stories about your mystery lover who fucks you so good you can barely walk."

You pull into the empty lot. Headlights cutting through darkness before you kill the engine.

Silence. Just both of you breathing hard.

"I guess I need to figure out," you say, turning to look at her fully for the first time since this started, "exactly who this incredible lover of yours is."

She stares. Chest rising and falling fast. The innocent act completely gone—just hunger and anticipation now. Lips parted, cheeks flushed. That wet patch on her panties definitely bigger.

"I don't know what you mean." Whisper. Transparent lie.

"No?" Unbuckling your seatbelt. Slow. Never breaking eye contact. "This mystery man of yours—does he know how you like your hair pulled? How you whimper when he bites that spot on your neck? How you get so fucking wet when he talks dirty?"

Each question makes her breath hitch. By the end she's panting.

"Does he know you play these little games when you want to get fucked? Act all innocent and concerned while you're soaking through your panties, hoping he'll snap and give you what you're begging for?"

"Manager-nim..." No pretense left. Pure need.

"Because if he exists, he should probably know his girl is a manipulative little slut who gets off on pushing buttons. Who pretends to worry about other people's sex lives while spreading her legs and hoping someone notices how wet she is."

Her moan is soft but unmistakable. Head tipping back, submitting to your words.

"So what do you think, Ningning? Should we find this mysterious lover? Or should we cut the bullshit and admit you've been trying to get me to fuck you since you got in this car?"

"Please."

One word. Everything in it—admission, surrender, desperate need.

But you're not done.

"Please what? Please help you find a real man who can satisfy you? Because according to you, I'm just some pathetic inexperienced loser who can't make a woman cum."

"No, I—"

"That's what you said. I need instruction. Should accept my limitations." Your hand reaches over, wraps around her throat. Light pressure. "Maybe you were right. Maybe I should just listen while you tell me more about how amazing your mystery lover is."

"Stop." Gasping. Grinding against the seat, body betraying exactly what she wants.

"Stop what? Stop believing your story? Stop thinking maybe you're right, that I couldn't possibly be the one making you scream my name three times a week?"

Her eyes snap open. Meeting yours with desperate honesty.

"You know. You know it's you. I'm talking about you."

"Do I? Because you seemed real convinced I'm some loser who couldn't find your clit with a roadmap."

"I was just—I wanted—" Struggling for words, brain scrambled by arousal and being caught.

"You wanted what, baby? Use your words."

She moans at the pet name, rubbing her thighs together.

"I wanted you to fuck me. Make you angry, make you snap, make you prove you own me."

There it is.

"And what makes you think you deserve that after twenty minutes of calling me pathetic and inexperienced?"

"Because—" Her hand slides over, palms your erection through your pants. "—you're hard as fucking steel and we both know you're about to remind me exactly who I belong to."

You're out of the car before you process moving. Door slamming hard enough to rattle the windows. Cold night air hits your face but does nothing to cool the fire coursing through your fucking veins.

Around to her side. She's watching through the window, eyes wide and hungry.

You yank the door open. She practically spills into your arms.

"Finally," she breathes against your ear, and that word confirms everything—the whole evening was designed to push you exactly here.

"Finally?" Spinning her around, pressing her back against the cold metal of the car door. "You mean finally you get what you've been begging for all night?"

"Yes." Gasping as your body pins her. "God, yes."

Your hands map her body. Rough. The body you know better than your own. You grab her face, force her to look at you, thumb tracing her lips.

"You want to know something about your mysterious lover, Ningning? The one who fucks you so good you can barely walk?"

She nods frantically, tongue darting out to lick your thumb.

"He's getting really fucking tired of your games."

Then you're kissing her. Devouring her. Nothing gentle about it—pure hunger, pure possession. Your tongue claims her mouth while your hands tangle in her hair. She moans into it, body melting against yours, finally getting what she's been craving.

When you break away, you're both breathing hard. Her lips already swollen.

"Turn around."

She complies immediately. Palms flat against the car door.

Your hands slide down her sides. She trembles. When you reach the hem of her skirt, you don't hesitate—shove it up to her waist. Those lacy panties that have been tormenting you all evening. Absolutely soaked through.

"Fuck, look at you." Running your fingers along the damp fabric. "All that talk about my pathetic sex life, and you're dripping wet just from thinking about me bending you over this car."

"Ahhn—" She moans as you press the fabric against her pussy. The friction makes her whole body shudder. "Please, I need—"

"You need what? Instruction from your experienced lover?" You hook your fingers in the waistband. Rip them down her legs in one motion. "Or do you need me to show you what this pathetic, inexperienced loser can do to your needy little cunt?"

The crude words make her gasp and push back against you, seeking contact.

But you're not giving in yet.

Your hand slides between her legs from behind. Fingers teasing through her slick folds. Not giving her the pressure she's desperate for.

"Oh God, please." Whimpering, trying to grind back against your hand. "Don't tease, just—"

"Just what? Fuck you? Right here where anyone could drive by and see what a desperate slut you are?"

Your fingers circle her clit. Once. Barely a touch.

She nearly sobs with frustration.

"Yes! I don't care, I need you inside me, need you to fuck me hard—"

"Careful what you wish for, baby."

You pull your hand away. Sound of your belt buckle makes her moan with anticipation. When you free your cock—hard and throbbing from an hour of her torture—she looks back over her shoulder with such naked hunger it nearly undoes you.

"Is this what you wanted?" Pressing the head against her entrance but not pushing in. "All that talk about men who know what they're doing—is this what you were really asking for?"

"Yes." Trying to push back, take you inside. "Fuck, yes, please just—"

You slam in. One brutal thrust, burying yourself completely in her tight wet heat.

The cry that tears from her throat is raw. Desperate. Echoes in the quiet night.

"Fuck! Oh fuck, yes!"

"Is this what your mysterious lover does to you, Ningning?" Pulling almost completely out. "Does he fuck you like this? Like he owns you?"

"You—" Gasping. "—you're the only one. Only you, always you—ahhh!"

You slam back in and the admission sends possessive satisfaction surging through you.

Set a rhythm. Hard. Punishing. Each thrust rocks her entire body, and the sounds she makes—breathless moans, desperate whimpers, your name falling from her lips like a prayer.

"That's right." Hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. "No mysterious lover. No one else who makes you scream like this. Just your pathetic manager who doesn't know what he's doing."

"Don't—ahhn!—don't stop." Voice breaking. "Harder, please, fuck me harder—"

You comply. Hips slamming against her ass with each thrust. The car rocks with the force. Somewhere in the back of your mind you register the ridiculousness—fucking your secret lover over the hood of your company car. But that thought drowns in the sight of her arching beneath you, the way her pussy clenches around your cock like she never wants to let go.

A pair of headlights sweeps across the overlook. Car on the winding road below. Instead of stopping, you fuck her harder.

Brief illumination lights everything up—her bent over your car, you pounding into her from behind, both of you lost in it.

"Let them look." Snarling. "Let them see how this slut belongs to me."

The exhibitionist thrill—her body convulses. Close already.

But you're not letting her cum yet.

You still. Buried deep inside her. She whines, tries to rock back, chase the friction.

"No—why did you stop—"

"Because." Pulling out completely. She actually whimpers at the loss. "We're not done yet."

You grab her waist, pull her away from the car. She's unsteady on her legs, looking back at you confused and desperate.

"Get in the backseat."

Her eyes light up. She scrambles for the door, yanks it open. You follow her in, the space immediately too small and perfect for what you need.

"On your back. Let me see you."

Ningning sprawls across the seat, skirt still bunched around her waist, top riding up. The moonlight coming through the windows catches her face—lips parted, pupils blown wide, chest heaving. She spreads her legs for you without being asked.

Fuck, she's perfect like this. Completely wrecked already and you're nowhere near done.

You settle between her thighs, running your hands up her legs. Slowly now. Let the anticipation build again.

"You know what your mystery man does?" you ask, fingers tracing patterns on her inner thighs. Getting close to where she needs you but not touching. "When his girl has been a manipulative little brat all evening?"

"What?" Breathless, hips lifting, seeking contact.

"He makes her beg."

Your thumb brushes against her clit. Feather-light. She gasps, tries to grind against your hand.

"Please—"

"Please what? Use those words you're so good at." Another barely-there touch. "Tell me exactly what you want."

"Your cock. I want your cock inside me again, want you to fuck me until I can't think—"

"Can't think about what? About all those lies you told me tonight?"

You push two fingers inside her. She's so wet they slide in easily, and the sound she makes is halfway between a moan and a sob.

"Yes—fuck—I'm sorry, I just wanted—" Her words cut off as you curl your fingers, finding that spot inside her that makes her see stars.

"Wanted what?" You work your fingers slowly, watching her face. The way her eyes flutter closed, how her back arches off the seat. "Wanted to piss me off? Make me jealous?"

"Wanted you to fuck me like this." She's grinding against your hand now, shameless. "Wanted you angry and rough and—oh God, right there—"

You keep the pressure steady, your other hand sliding up under her top to palm her breast. Her nipple is hard against your palm. You roll it between your fingers and she cries out.

"You like being a brat, don't you? Getting me worked up, pushing my buttons until I snap."

"Yes!" Not even trying to deny it now. "Love it when you get like this, when you remind me—fuck, I'm gonna cum—"

You pull your fingers out.

She actually whimpers, eyes flying open to glare at you with desperate frustration.

"You don't get to cum yet." You bring your fingers to your mouth, taste her. Her eyes track the movement, darkening further. "Not until I'm good and ready to let you."

"That's not fair—"

"Fair?" You lean over her, one hand braced on the seat beside her head. Your cock pressing against her entrance again, not pushing in. Just resting there. The head getting slick from how wet she is. "You spent an hour telling me I'm a pathetic loser who can't satisfy a woman. You think you've earned fair?"

"I didn't mean it." Her hands cum up to grip your shoulders. Nails digging in. "You know I didn't mean it, I was just—"

"Just what?"

"Playing a game. Wanted this. Wanted you." She rolls her hips, trying to take you inside, but you pull back just enough to deny her. "Please, I need you so bad it hurts."

The raw honesty in her voice breaks something loose in you.

"Then take it."

You thrust in hard and she screams. Her nails rake down your back as you set a rhythm—slower than before but deeper. The angle in the cramped backseat lets you hit spots that make her whole body shake.

"Fuck, you feel so good." The words come out before you can stop them. "So fucking tight around me."

"Only for you." She wraps her legs around your waist, heels digging into your ass, pulling you deeper with each thrust. "Only ever this good with you."

You capture her mouth in a kiss. Messy and desperate, all tongue and teeth. She kisses back hungrily, one hand tangling in your hair while the other stays clawed into your shoulder.

When you break away to breathe, she's staring up at you with something that goes beyond just lust. Something that makes your chest tight even as you're pounding into her.

"Say it again," you demand, shifting your angle to grind against her clit with each thrust. "Tell me who you belong to."

"You—" Her voice breaks as you hit that perfect spot inside her. "Fuck, I'm yours, only yours, nobody else makes me feel like this—"

"That's right." You can feel her getting close again, the way her pussy flutters around your cock. "My girl. My manipulative little slut who plays games because she's too bratty to just ask for what she wants."

"Guilty." She manages a breathless laugh that turns into a moan. "Gonna—fuck, I'm gonna cum—"

"Not yet." You still your hips. "Look at me."

Her eyes open, hazy and desperate.

"Ask me nicely."

"Please." No hesitation now. No games. Just raw need. "Please let me cum. I need it so bad. Need you to make me cum on your cock."

"Better." You resume your rhythm, harder now. Your hand snakes between your bodies to find her clit. "Cum for me, Ningning. Show me how good I make you feel."

It takes maybe three more thrusts before she detonates.

Her orgasm hits like a fucking freight train.

Her whole body goes rigid, back arching off the seat as she clamps down around your cock. The pressure is almost painful, her pussy spasming and milking you as she screams your name into the cramped space of the car.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck—" It's all she can manage, broken and breathless, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes from the intensity.

You don't stop. You fuck her through it, drawing out every wave of pleasure until she's shaking and sobbing beneath you.

"Too much—oh God, it's too much—"

"You can take it." Your rhythm doesn't falter. "You wanted me to fuck you stupid, remember? Wanted me to prove who you belong to."

She can't even form words anymore, just these desperate whimpering sounds that go straight to your cock. Her nails are definitely drawing blood on your back now but you don't care. All you care about is the sight of her completely wrecked beneath you, the feel of her tight and perfect around you.

Your own orgasm is building fast. The combination of an hour of her teasing and the way she's looking at you now—totally fucked out and worshipful—it's too much.

"Where?" you grit out, your thrusts getting erratic.

"Inside." She locks her legs tighter around you. "Want you to cum inside me, fill me up—"

That does it. You slam into her one last time and let go, burying yourself as deep as possible as you cum. The release is intense enough to white out your vision for a second, every muscle in your body going taut as you empty yourself inside her.

For a long moment, neither of you move. Just breathing hard in the steamed-up car, your forehead resting against hers, both of you trembling with aftershocks.

Eventually you pull out—slowly, carefully. The mix of your cum and hers starts dripping down her thighs immediately. She makes a soft sound at the loss but doesn't protest, just lies there boneless and satisfied.

You collapse back against the opposite door, trying to catch your breath. Your legs are shaking. When did you get this out of shape?

Well you did just fuck her senseless in a cramped backseat. That would probably take it out of anyone.

Yizhuo shifts, propping herself up on her elbows to look at you. Her hair is a disaster, makeup smudged, lips swollen. She's still got her top half-on and her skirt bunched around her waist.

She looks absolutely fucking perfect.

"So," she says, and there's that edge of mischief creeping back into her voice already. "Maybe you're not completely out of practice after all."

You can't help it—you laugh. The audacity of this girl, going right back to the bit even now.

"Get dressed before you leave a stain on my upholstery."

"Your upholstery?" She sits up, looking around at the steamed windows and disheveled interior. "Pretty sure that ship has sailed."

She's probably right. There's going to be no explaining this if anyone looks too close. But that's a problem for tomorrow.

Ningning finds her panties on the floor of the car—torn, basically unwearable now. She holds them up, examining the damage with an amused expression.

"You owe me new underwear."

"You owe me an apology for that entire car ride."

"Mm." She balls up the ruined panties and stuffs them in your jacket pocket. "How about we call it even?"

You watch as she tries to fix her hair using the reflection in the window, finger-combing through the tangles. It's a losing battle. She gives up after a minute, pulling it into a messy bun instead.

"I'm not wearing underwear for the rest of the drive, by the way," she says casually, smoothing down her skirt. "Just so you're aware."

"Yizhuo."

"What?" All innocence. "Just making conversation. Wouldn't want you to be surprised if we hit a bump or something."

You close your eyes. This fucking girl.

"You're already starting again."

"I have no idea what you mean." But she's smiling as she climbs back into the passenger seat, and when you follow her out of the backseat and get back behind the wheel, she immediately curls up against the door, looking thoroughly satisfied with herself.

You start the car. The engine turns over and you pull back onto the dark road, heading toward the city lights below.

"Next time," you say as you navigate the turns, "just ask."

"Where's the fun in that?"

You glance over at her. She's already got that look in her eye—the one that means she's planning her next game, thinking up new ways to push your buttons.

You're never going to have a moment's peace with her.

"I'm keeping the panties," you tell her.

"Pervert."

"Says the girl who just spent an hour trying to make me jealous of myself."

She giggles at that, and the sound fills the car. Light and carefree and so very her that you can't even be annoyed.

Your phone buzzes in the cupholder. Probably a message from one of the other members wondering where you two are. You've definitely been gone longer than a normal drive home should take.

Yizhuo reaches over and silences it without looking.

"They can wait," she says, settling back in her seat. "Drive slow."

So you do.