[vanesycho]

taglist rules masterlist kink. m.list 𐐪

isfj | she/her | 19 | you can call me 'v' or 'vivi'

everything belongs to vanesycho on tumblr. please don't copy or translate my works！

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[vanesycho]

Heyyyy v

I’m just going through my following list and sending a message to anyone who hasn’t been “active” for a long time. Hope everything has been okay or semi positive. I know people got lives to live but you never know who needs a little check in. If you’re reading this, remember to stay strong, in the end it’ll be worth it 💙🩵.

heyyyyy

it really means a lot to me that you wrote this, so thank you so muchhh 🫶 everything is going really well actually, and I still use tumblr quite a lot, but I just don’t really feel that urge to write anymore. what can I say, it was a good era lol. and I guess when other things in life start taking over, my motivation for writing slowly faded too

thanks again for your message, I really appreciate it, love you🥹🤍🤍🤍

[vanesycho]

• jake + fem!reader • friends to lovers, soft angst, suggestive themes, emotional tension. 0,7k

“you always do this,” you murmured under your breath. “do what?” jake asked, voice matching your low tone, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips—like he already knew exactly what you meant. "look at me like that.”

a soft chuckle brushed past your ears, barely audible. jake didn’t take his eyes off you, and you could feel the weight of his gaze as you focused on the ceiling—on anything but him. you didn’t want to see the way his eyes lingered, too much and not enough all at once. “you want me to stop?” he asked.

silence. you didn’t answer.

he didn’t push.

Instead, he sat in the quiet with you, just… watching. like he could read everything you were thinking simply by the way your lashes trembled or how your breath caught for half a second longer than it should’ve.

but the silence didn’t last long.

jake let out a quiet chuckle to himself, the sound slicing through the stillness of the room like it didn’t belong there—but somehow made perfect sense. you frowned lightly, eyes darting to him with a flicker of confusion.

“I’m sorry... it’s just—” he exhaled a half-laugh, head tilting slightly as if the words themselves amused him too much “—the way you pretend we’re just friends. It’s funny.”

your breath caught in your throat. for a split second, your chest stalled. “…aren’t we?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper as your gaze snapped back to the ceiling.

this time, his laugh was lower.

darker.

dangerous.

It rumbled from deep in his chest, the kind that made the heat of the room feel different—less cozy, more charged. the kind that made goosebumps rise along your arms, even in the warmth.

“then stop letting me touch you like this.”

your breath hitched the moment his fingertips slipped under the hem of your hoodie—barely there, but enough to send a signal straight to your spine. the sharp inhale you couldn’t hide only fueled him more. you could feel him leaning closer, his voice lowering with every word.

“stop leaning into me every time you get cold.”

his breath ghosted over your neck, searing hot in the otherwise quiet room. his lips hovered just above your skin, so close you could feel the shape of them even without contact.

“stop calling me at 2AM just because you can’t sleep.”

you bit your lip, jaw tensing with frustration. not at him. but because he wasn’t wrong. that’s what made it worse.

you finally turned to face him, unable to ignore the tension anymore. his eyes held a kind of depth you couldn’t quite name. dark, unreadable, pulling you in.

“If it’s not mean anything,” jake murmured, voice low and laced with something heavy, “then don’t look at me like that.”

his gaze flickered between your lips and your eyes, like he couldn’t decide where to land. like he wanted to say more, but knew this alone was already too much.

jake shifted on the bed, slow and deliberate, eventually settling himself above you. he didn’t move right away, just looked at you. watched the way your hair lay where he’d just run his fingers through, how peaceful you looked underneath him. then, his gaze dropped to the hoodie you were wearing—of course, it was his.

you didn’t move—you couldn’t. you didn’t want to pull away, but taking the first step felt too terrifying.

so jake did it for you.

he leaned in, slowly, resting his head against your shoulder. the fabric of the hoodie—his hoodie—had already soaked in your scent. he inhaled it.

“don’t treat me like I’m just some guy,” he murmured. his hand slid under the hem of the hoodie again. he didn’t go any further—just rested it there, needing the feel of your skin. “not when you’re lying in my bed like this, in the middle of the night.”

his voice wasn’t sharp. It was raw. laden with emotions he clearly hadn’t meant to show but couldn’t hold back anymore.

your throat tightened. words still refused to come. jake lifted his head, his eyes locking on yours. lips parted slightly as he whispered,

“If I'm wrong… just say it."

his eyes flicked to your lips. licked his own lips instinctively. with a flicker of courage, he leaned in—not enough to kiss you, not quite. but close enough for you to feel his breath brushing against your mouth, warm and trembling.

“because I don’t know how much longer I can take this…”

If you enjoyed it, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments and see a reblog! thank you so much for your support!

taglist: @laylasbunbunny @inishij @kimuranirisi

[vanesycho]

• jay x fem!reader | oral(f receiving), finger licking, cum play, multiple orgasms, strong language 0,5k word

Your legs are still shaking. They’re spread open across the bed, knees barely holding their position, chest heaving like you ran a marathon barefoot through hell..

And Jay?

He’s kneeling at the edge of the bed, still perfectly composed, not a hair out of place. Fully clothed, broad shoulders framed by the dark fabric, one hand resting casually on his thigh while the other wipes at his mouth only to smear more of you across his lips. Like he didn’t just ruin you with his mouth—like watching you tremble apart beneath him was nothing more than his favorite pastime.

Your breath hitches when he leans back slightly on his heels. His tongue darts out, lips glistening. You can still feel him on you. The way he groaned into you, voice vibrating against your flesh, still echoes in your ears. The way he looked up while his mouth was buried between your thighs, like you were divine, like worship was the only thing he knew.

And then, his fingers. Two of them, slick and shining. He brings them to his lips.

Slowly. Deliberately. Almost cruel in the way he stretches out the moment.

You watch—frozen, dripping, panting—as he licks. them. clean. Tongue curling around each digit, savoring you like you’re something rare, something worth tasting again and again.

His eyes? Never leave yours.

“Mmh…You taste better than I imagined.” His voice is low, gravelly, the kind of tone that rumbles through your chest and coils hot in your stomach. The moment you hear it, something stirs violently inside you—your pulse skipping, thighs clenching helplessly against the sheets.

It’s not just the words. It’s the way he says them. Lazy. Certain. He already knew you’d be this good, you were made for him to devour.

“That look on your face."

"Say thank you.”

You blink. You didn’t know if it was because you had cum twice in a row, but it takes a moment—too long—for the meaning to register.

“What?” you whisper, breathless, wide-eyed, as though you can’t quite believe he expects you to find the strength to speak.

He crawls up. Slow, towering over you,palms landing on either side of your head. His face is right above yours now. Hair slightly messy. Eyes devouring. "I made you come twice with my mouth, and all you did was lay there, crying my name. Say thank you.”

The knowing grin on his lips made you forget to speak. Of course he was sure of himself, it satisfied his ego to know that his cock wasn't even necessary to make you cum multiple times, that your body could unravel under just his mouth, his hands, his gaze.

“Thank you…” you whisper, voice trembling, barely audible.

“Good girl.” And just like that, his fingers return to your lips. He taps once, daring you to obey. “Now suck.”

You do. Of course you do. You taste yourself on him, sweet and salty, and it drives you wild knowing he’s the one who made it all happen.

And when he moans softly, watching your lips wrap around his knuckles, that low, rumbling sound vibrating through your chest?

Yeah.

You realize you’re completely his.

If you enjoyed it, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments and see a reblog! thank you so much for your support!

taglist[open]: @laylasbunbunny @kimuranirisi @inishij @deliciousmagazinequeen

[vanesycho]

• s.coups + fem!reader • cockwarming, soft dom!cheol, teasing, orgasm denial, begging, heavy tension, sub!reader 0,6k

“twitch again and I’ll pull out. you want that?”

but of course—your body betrays you. It’s not an act of defiance, not some bratty pushback. It’s desperation. he’s been inside you for too long—warm, thick, unmoving— pressing so deep it’s like your body doesn’t know how to handle it anymore.

every second he stays buried inside, your mind slips further. the stillness is unbearable, maddening, like being held right at the edge and never allowed to fall.

a soft whimper slipped past your lips, barely a sound, but more than enough for him to hear. his smile curved instantly, slow and amused, spreading across his lips like it had been waiting there the whole time. he didn’t bother hiding it—he never did.

no, he loved this part.

watching you fall apart, squirming with the need for more, while he stayed perfectly still inside you... it thrilled him. every helpless little sound you made reminded you who was in control—and that thrill? that was everything to him.

“please…” your voice cracked, barely more than a breath. “want to move…”

his grip on your hips tightened. firm, grounding, impossible to escape. “shh… don’t even think about it,” he murmured, voice low and steady against your ear. “you said you could take it, didn’t you?”

you buried your face into the crook of his neck, your body trembling with restrained need. his skin was hot against yours, every shallow breath brushing across your collarbone, making your nerves jolt.

the wetness between your thighs was overwhelming—slick, desperate, and far too much for this kind of stillness. his cock sat heavy and thick inside you, pressing right against that devastating spot, and yet… he didn’t move. not even an inch.

the sheer absence of motion made it worse. It turned your desire into a slow, burning ache that bloomed deep in your belly.

you clenched around him helplessly, needing something—anything—but he stayed painfully still, as if dragging out your desperation was just as satisfying as finally giving in.

being filled by him like this, completely motionless, felt like torture. a slow, beautiful kind of suffering—pleasurable, yes, but maddening enough to leave you trembling on the edge of breaking.

hands? resting on your thighs like a king. not moving. just staying there, his thumbs rubbing lazy circles. his voice like velvet with venom.

“I’m not even moving and look at you. breathing like I’m fucking you.”

when you finally pulled back from his shoulder and looked up at him, your eyes were glassy—filled with a raw mix of pain and pleasure.

sweat clung to your neck, small beads trailing down your skin as your lips parted, maybe hoping for a little mercy?

he chuckled—quiet, low, indulgent.

his fingers slid beneath your chin, lifting it gently. his thumb brushed across your lower lip, slow and possessive, like he was testing how much more you could take.

then he leaned back. relaxed, perfectly in control.

“poor baby… already shaking?”

his voice was nothing more than a whisper, rasping from the back of his throat, thick with amusement.

cheol stayed quiet for a moment, just listening—soaking in the soft, pained whimpers falling from your lips like it was the sweetest melody he’d ever heard.

his eyes darkened with amusement, a lazy smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, completely unbothered by your unraveling.

then—barely there—his hips shifted. just a tiny roll forward. barely enough to register… and yet, the fullness inside you moved, and the sudden sensation knocked the air right out of your lungs. your breath caught. your nails dug into his skin.

silence again.

until he leaned down, lips brushing your ear, voice low and unrelenting.

“If you want me to move… beg.”

a pause.

“and if I like how you beg...I’ll let you come.”

If you enjoyed it, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments and see a reblog! thank you so much for your support!

taglist: @vernorica123

[vanesycho]

chan + fem!reader • warning! slow burn sensual smut. use of aphrodisiac. soft dom!chan. oral(f receiving). dry humping. light kink (breeding kink implied). • 4,6k • m.list

Teaser ⟩ a candle lit during a power outage filled the room with a soft vanilla scent—completely unaware of the aphrodisiac hidden within. as the night grew warmer, so did chan’s need, his hands wandering with a desperate hunger he couldn’t deny.

the sound of rain tapping against the window pulled your attention away from your phone. It was pouring, like the sky was dumping buckets, and yet chan was still locked away in his studio. you didn’t want to go to bed without him, so you decided to wait—but his work was taking longer than expected.

a flash of lightning suddenly lit up the entire room, followed by a loud clap of thunder that echoed through the walls. you decided to check on him one last time, but as soon as your feet slid off the edge of the bed, darkness swallowed the room whole.

the power had gone out.

the house, already quiet, grew even more still, but the silence didn’t last long. footsteps made their way to your door, slow and steady, and moments later, chan stepped into the room—with the flashlight on his phone lighting his path.

despite how tired he looked, his lips curled into a soft smile the second he saw you. “I almost thought you cut the power just to stop me from working,” he teased lightly, stepping closer. he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead—and somehow, the simple warmth of his lips against your skin made the heaviness in your chest loosen for a moment.

“I guess it’s finally time to use those candles we bought,” chan said, his voice suddenly excited. you let out a quiet laugh—he always had a thing for scented candles, always talked about how those sweet, hazy scents helped him relax during stressful work nights.

you followed after him as he left the room, his flashlight guiding you to the kitchen. he rummaged through one of the drawers for a while—until he finally pulled out a few candles, smiling softly as he found the ones he’d been looking for.

lifting one up, he brought it closer to his nose, inhaling the familiar scent before handing it to you.

he watched you closely as you leaned in toward it. “like it?”

a soft vanilla aroma spread around you, not too strong, but enough to gently tickle your nose, and make your head feel just a little hazy. “mhm...yeah,” you nodded, meeting his eyes, “It’s already warming me up somehow.”

after lighting the second candle, chan joined you on the bed, the soft glow and warm scent wrapping around you like a blanket. you felt a deep sense of calm settle in, the room quiet except for the rain tapping gently against the windows.

a comfortable silence lingered for a while—

until you felt his hand resting over yours.

“you’re cold,” he said softly, pulling you closer to his chest. he guided your hand over his heart, fingers intertwining as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

In that moment, you both quietly thanked the power outage. as if the universe had turned everything off just to make room for this.

“your skin... it’s so soft.” his voice came out barely above a whisper. his thumb continued to caress the back of your hand in slow, almost reverent circles. but something shifted—like the gentle touch wasn't enough anymore.

his fingers traveled upward, brushing past your wrist with featherlight strokes, gliding along your arm with deliberate slowness. when he reached your shoulder, he paused for a moment—then changed direction, sliding down along your side until his hand slipped beneath your shirt.

the sudden contrast of his warm palm on your bare waist made you inhale sharply, your breath hitching in your throat. the scent of vanilla that once felt comforting now wrapped around your senses more densely, almost dizzying.

you blinked, realizing the drowsiness from earlier had completely dissolved.

and It wasn’t just you.

beneath your hand, you felt his chest rise and fall—uneven, shaky, like he was trying to suppress something. your eyes met his, and in an instant, his gaze dropped to your lips. “something...” he muttered, voice hoarse, thick with tension. “It’s burning inside me.”

a tremor rippled through him as he exhaled—

not from fear, but restraint. like he was fighting the instinct to pull you closer, to drown in whatever was growing between you.

you weren’t any different from him. the heat pooling between your legs was almost dizzying, making it hard to keep your body still. your senses felt heightened—like every breath, every touch, was amplified and humming under your skin.

chan noticed the way your body tensed beneath him, and without a word, he gently laid you back against the mattress, sliding on top of you with careful precision. his hands braced on either side of your head, framing your face in the flickering glow of candlelight. the shadows danced across his features, but it was his eyes that truly pulled you in.

“do you feel it too?” his voice was low, gravelly, as if each word scraped against the edge of restraint. his gaze was locked on yours, but there was a tremble in his eyes—not his hands, not his breath—just his eyes. he looked torn. like he was fighting something inside him—a need, an ache, that had started small but was now unbearable.

something was crawling under his skin, not just lust, but something deeper, something possessive… addictive. the scent, the warmth of you, the way you looked at him—it was undoing him slowly.

his fingertips hovered near your cheek but didn’t quite touch. the space between you buzzed with tension, thick and electric. It felt like…if you reached for him, just once—he’d give in entirely. but for now, he was holding on by a thread.

waiting.

needing your permission to fall apart.

you didn’t answer. there was a burning lump in your throat, like your body was reacting faster than your words ever could. so you simply nodded—just the slightest movement. but it was enough for him.

chan’s breath hitched, his chest rising in one deep inhale as he closed his eyes. something shifted. he moved slowly, his hand sliding down to your wrist. even that soft touch made your whole body flinch, from the sheer sensitivity that had taken over you. everything felt amplified. It was like every nerve was tuned to him.

he wrapped his fingers around your wrist, not harshly, but firm—like he needed to keep you grounded, like he was afraid you'd slip away if he let go.

then, he leaned in. you felt his breath ghost across your neck, hot and slow—and your own breath stuttered in your chest.

“my heart’s racing,"

he whispered, voice nearly cracking under the weight of it. his eyes were shut, his lips barely grazing your skin as he breathed you in. “I feel like I’m touching you for the first time…”

the brush of his nose against your neck made your thighs press together, a quiet plea your body whispered before your voice could.

“chan…” his name slipped out, soft and broken—barely a breath. but even that was enough to draw a low, guttural sound from deep in his throat. you heard the muttered curse under his breath, thick with restraint.

he lifted his head. his eyes met yours—blazing, dark, desperate.

and there it was.

a single bead of sweat rolling down his temple, catching the flicker of candlelight as it fell. but you knew. that heat wasn’t from the room. It was from him. from whatever it was coursing through his veins, setting him on fire.

he leaned in closer, one hand planted firmly beside your head, the other still wrapped around your wrist like a lifeline.

“I can’t—” his voice cracked, low and wrecked. “I can’t hold back much longer.”

just after those last words left his lips, chan leaned in and captured your mouth with his. the kiss was messy—rushed, almost desperate. he moved like he was chasing something he couldn’t quite reach, each press of his lips followed by a shallow breath, only to dive back in like it still wasn’t enough. his hands didn’t move much, but his mouth said everything; hungry, breathless, wanting.

when the kiss finally broke with a soft, wet sound, his lips didn’t stop. they traveled down to your chin, then dipped lower to your neck. you felt him there—teeth grazing the skin, a delicate bite that sent a wave through your body. his breath was scalding hot against your throat, so vivid it made your pulse thrum louder. you closed your eyes, letting yourself melt into him completely, silently offering your body up to be explored. and he did—like he’d waited too long for this, like he wasn’t just touching your skin, but claiming every inch of it with reverence and quiet hunger.

his hands were restless, moving with a clear intention. before you knew it, they slipped under your shirt. the moment his fingers brushed over your already stiffened nipples, a low, satisfied sound escaped his lips.

he pulled back for a second, just enough to create distance, though the pressure below was already starting to ache. his hand found yours, guiding it slowly down—right to where he was hardest.

"can you feel that?" he whispered, voice barely audible yet full of desire. the second your palm cupped the heat of his arousal, he shut his eyes, exhaling a shaky breath that trembled between control and need. you nodded silently in response. "good," he murmured, lips curling just slightly. "now come here."

within seconds, you were straddling his lap, the heat of your body settling right over his aching length. the thin layers of clothing between you did nothing to dull the friction—if anything, it made everything worse. chan’s hands gripped your hips firmly, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp. he pulled you against him, grinding you down with a desperation he could barely contain. a guttural sound rumbled from his throat, low and raw. "f-fuck—" he choked out, his voice ragged.

the pleasure shot through him like lightning, overwhelming and fast and almost too much. the way your weight pressed down on him, how your heat aligned perfectly with his swollen arousal—it was driving him insane. for a second, he thought he might actually come undone right there, just from the pressure, from the way you fit against him like that.

every breath he took was heavy, laced with need. his head dropped against your shoulder as he muttered, “fuck, why does this feel so... intense?" for a moment, he seemed lost—like he couldn’t quite place what was happening to him—but the hunger in his eyes said it all. he didn’t want to stop. not now. not ever.

he wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to stop. every time your clit brushed against his hardness, a sharp pulse throbbed deep inside you, demanding more. you couldn’t hold back, your hips began to move slowly, tentatively at first, then with growing confidence.

chan clenched his jaw, fingers digging harder into your hips as if trying to anchor you down. your name slipped from his lips, not as a plea but almost like a reprimand—like you were doing something you shouldn’t, and he was supposed to warn you.

"If you keep going—" he warned, voice low and strained, "I’m gonna... come right here, in my pants."

gross, chan thought, a flash of embarrassment prickling through him at the idea of coming just from the friction—without a single finger inside his pants. but his body didn’t care.

It was too warm. too damn hot.

every piece of fabric on him suddenly felt heavier, like a suffocating weight pressing down, making it impossible to think clearly.

chan’s pre-cum seeped slowly through the fabric, warm and slick, pooling in places that made it impossible to think straight. his breath was shallow, unsteady as a bead of sweat traced a slow path from the curve of his neck down to his collarbone. he inhaled deeply, trying to steady himself, but his mind was already consumed.

his hands slid from your hips up to your shirt without hesitation, gripping and pulling it up. you raised your arms to help, your bare skin coming into view, heart pounding against his gaze.

a shaky breath escaped him as his eyes locked onto your chest. unable to resist, he took you beneath him again, his gaze never leaving your breasts. fingers toyed with the edge of your shorts, exploring with deliberate intent while his lips descended to your skin.

he licked your nipples slowly, tasting, teasing, then bit gently—soft enough to make you shiver but sharp enough to mark the moment. every sound you made, every subtle reaction of your body, was etched into his memory, fueling his hunger all the more.

his lips traveled downward, tracing a slow path to your stomach. he glanced up at you, eyes dark and intense, before murmuring a gentle command, “lift your hips, baby.”

you obeyed without hesitation, helping him pull your shorts and underwear down together. his hands reached your inner thighs, urging you to part them just for him.

a deep sigh escaped him as his eyes took in the glistening wetness, illuminated softly by the flickering candlelight. you caught the subtle swallow he tried to hide, the raw hunger barely contained beneath his calm exterior.

then he leaned down, fingers sliding out slowly from your slit to feel just how wet you were. his two thumbs gently parted your lips. he didn't care how messy or soaked you were. he wanted more. a slow drip of spit slid down, warm and deliberate, and at the touch of his breath, your hips jerked involuntarily.

chan bent to the spot where his saliva had landed, dragging his tongue over you in a slow, hungry lick from bottom to top. a satisfied sound rumbled deep in his throat as a subtle vibration pulsed through your pussy, sending shivers that echoed deep inside you.

his tongue lingered around your entrance, circling it with slow, deliberate motions, tasting you like something forbidden and sacred. then, as if the need consumed him whole, he buried his face deeper between your thighs, like he wanted to disappear inside you.

your moans came out louder, less controlled. your chest rose and fell rapidly, the heat overwhelming, his mouth relentless. there was a rhythm to his tongue, steady and calculated, but maddening—perfectly torturous.

when he finally pulled back for just a moment, you saw it—the glistening shine on his lips, your wetness coating him like proof of his obsession. he looked wrecked. chest heaving, pupils blown wide. and then, in a rough growl that came from deep in his throat, he muttered, completely undone "you're dripping… fuck, you're soaking my face."

and still, his fingers dug into your thighs like he never wanted to let go, like your taste was the only thing keeping him grounded.

"come on my face, yeah?" he asked in a single, ragged breath, his voice cracked open with desperation. his eyes —those eyes— never left yours, dark and heavy with hunger, dragging every last bit of restraint out of you. something stirred deep inside you at the way he looked at you like you were the only thing he’d ever crave. everything already felt too much, too warm, too intense...and his gaze made it impossible to hold on.

and despite asking, he didn’t wait for an answer.

he dove back in. tongue relentless, lips messy, completely lost in the taste of you. your hands found his hair, fingers curling, hips moving without thought. the pressure in your core tightened, unbearable, unbearable, until—

your breath shattered.

It hit all at once, like a wave crashing through you, body seizing as you cried out, a broken moan torn from your throat. he didn’t move an inch, didn’t ease up, not even as you came. Instead, he groaned into you, deeper than before, letting your release coat his face. you could feel how soaked he was, how wet everything had become —his mouth, his chin, the noises he made— obscene, low, needy.

when he finally pulled back, his chest was heaving, lips swollen and glistening, jaw tight like he was barely holding it together. he looked up at you like he’d just been baptized, completely wrecked. “you’re so beautiful when you fall apart for me.”

he whispered—his voice low, reverent. the corners of your lips lifted ever so slightly at the praise, a breath of calm wrapping around you both, if only for a heartbeat.

but then you felt it—his bulge, twitching and throbbing beneath the strained fabric of his pants, pressed firm against your thigh. that quiet moment shattered in the heat pooling between you.

a soft grunt left his lips, and he pressed his forehead to yours, breath hot and uneven. “I can’t—fuck, I can’t keep these on,” he muttered, almost to himself. desperation dripped from his voice.

he pulled back just enough to shove his pants down with shaky hands, underwear following fast, revealing just how painfully hard he was. his cock sprang free, flushed, veined, the tip glistening from how worked up he’d been just from pleasuring you.

“I need to be inside you,” he growled, voice tight and raw. “I’ve waited long enough…”

he lined himself up, the tip of his cock brushing against your entrance—hot, leaking, throbbing with the kind of need that made his breath catch. his eyes fluttered closed for a second, fighting the urge to just sink in all at once.

but he didn’t. he couldn’t. not when you were looking up at him like that. not when every shaky breath of yours curled around his ribs like a soft plea.

“I’m gonna go slow, okay?” he whispered, voice thin and trembling. “wanna feel every inch of you…”

one hand gripped your thigh, anchoring himself, while the other gently caressed your cheek—his thumb brushing over your lips like he was grounding himself through touch.

and then, so slowly it made your breath hitch, he pushed in. just the tip.

a low moan spilled from his mouth, half-choked, needy and raw. “fuck—so warm… you’re gonna ruin me already” he murmured, barely above a whisper, like the words weren’t even meant to be heard.

he paused, panting softly as he tried not to lose himself right then and there. his fingers dug into your skin as he pressed in a little deeper, inch by inch, reverent, almost shaking. he whispered again, like it still hadn’t fully hit him. “feels too good…”

his hips trembled, not from movement, but from restraint. every time he sank deeper, it was followed by a quiet, desperate sound—something between a sigh and a moan—like your body was unraveling him second by second.

chan stayed still inside you for a moment, not daring to move. his fingers gently caressed the softness of your hips, forehead resting against yours, breaths tangled in the warm space between. chest to chest, skin slick with sweat, the silence around you was only filled by your shared, shaky exhales.

the candle’s flickering light danced lazily across the walls, casting golden shadows that curled and slid along chan’s back. every time the flame wavered, the glow would shift, revealing the tension in his shoulders, the way his muscles strained from holding back.

you had just come undone from his mouth—your body still trembling, overly sensitive. so when he slid into you, slow and deliberate, the stretch was overwhelming. your eyes fluttered shut, lips parted with a breathless gasp. the fullness was too much. too intimate. too good.

he noticed.

"too much?" he whispered, his voice strained, as if he was barely holding himself together. “fuck. you’re so tight, I can feel everything…”

his own sensitivity showed all over his face. his brows were furrowed, lower lip caught between his teeth. he’d been waiting—aching—for this, and now that he was finally inside, every second was electric. but he still didn’t move. his hands just roamed over you softly, and he leaned into your neck, breathing you in.

“just… let me stay here for a second,” he mumbled, voice hoarse. “I can’t move yet, I’ll fucking lose it.”

your chest was rising and falling quickly, body still buzzing with leftover waves. the pressure between you both was intense—almost unbearable in the best way. his breath grazed your skin as he clung to the moment, buried in you, not even fully inside yet, but already trembling from the closeness.

and then—the candle flickered again, the flame making a soft crackling sound just as chan began to move. carefully. gently. but with something trembling beneath the surface, something desperate.

he pulled out slowly, barely halfway, just to ease back in again, deeper this time. the stretch burned just right, your walls fluttering around him, still soaked and pulsing from before. you gasped, hands gripping his arms, fingertips sinking into the muscle like you needed something to hold onto before you lost yourself again.

“c-chan,” you whimpered, voice shaking. “too deep…”

he froze instantly, chest heaving against yours, clearly affected by the sound of your voice—by the way you said his name. his hand found your jaw, tilting your face to look at him.

“tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered, breath warm against your lips. “I’ll stop—fuck, I’ll stop if you need.”

but you didn’t want him to stop. not even close. you shook your head, a soft breathless, “don’t,” escaping your lips.

that was all he needed.

he rolled his hips again, still slow, but firmer now. every thrust was calculated, intentional. he wasn’t slamming into you. no. he was feeling everything. memorizing everything. letting himself get drunk off the tight heat around him, the way you clenched every time he pushed a little deeper. the candlelight flickered again, briefly illuminating his flushed face, the raw emotion in his eyes.

“oh my god..” you breathed out, arching your back, your body moving to meet his rhythm without even thinking. he groaned softly, lips ghosting over your collarbone. “you feel so fucking good… fuck, baby, you're perfect—just like that, yeah?”

his thrusts grew slightly faster, a little deeper with every push. you felt everything. the wetness. the fullness. the way he pulled out almost completely before sliding back in with a soft, desperate sound caught in his throat.

“please,” you whispered, voice cracking. he looked up, eyes wild and glassy, breath caught. “what do you need, sweetheart?” he asked, barely able to speak through how much he was holding back.

“you. just—don’t stop.” and he didn’t. his rhythm built slowly, pressure curling deep inside you with every thrust. he reached places that made your toes curl, your eyes roll back. each movement was rougher, needier. controlled at first—but clearly unraveling.

“you’re taking me so well,” he murmured into your skin. “so fuckin' tight around me… it’s driving me insane.” you moaned his name again, and it nearly broke him.

your body trembled beneath him, every thrust pushing you closer to that dizzying edge. your nails dragged down his back, leaving faint red trails he wouldn’t mind seeing the next morning. “chan— fuck— I’m gonna—”

“I know, baby,” he gasped, voice cracking as he tried to keep his pace steady—but it was slipping. “I feel you. you're so close… I can feel it.” his hips snapped forward harder now, rhythm reckless, losing any restraint he had left. the slap of skin meeting skin echoed louder, messier, more desperate. his breath stuttered against your neck as he muttered broken praises—"so good," "so tight," "my pretty baby taking it all"—like a prayer on repeat.

“you’re squeezing me—fuck, just like that—don’t stop, please don’t stop—” his voice cracked on the last word, and his hand slid down between your bodies, fingers finding your clit. “let go for me, sweetheart. wanna feel you come on me again. need it.”

your legs wrapped tighter around his waist instinctively, pulling him impossibly close as your climax finally crashed over you—sharp, electric, overwhelming. you cried out his name like it was the only word you knew, body spasming beneath him, and he nearly collapsed from the way you pulsed around him.

“shit—fuck—” he groaned, losing rhythm entirely as you clenched down, milking every last bit of control out of him. he buried his face in your neck, breath hot and ragged, hips stuttering.

“where do you want it, baby?” he rasped, voice barely holding together, needy and frantic. “tell me. please."

his rhythm turned frantic, deeper, rougher, chasing the edge with all the restraint of a man starved. your body was still trembling from your orgasm, oversensitive, twitching with every thrust—and he could feel it. feel how you clenched around him, how your walls fluttered, inviting him in deeper, tighter.

“shit—baby—” he hissed, voice cracking into a moan. “you’re gonna make me—fuck—”

he barely managed to lift his head, his gaze locking with yours, pupils blown wide, lips parted and trembling. “wanna come inside,” he breathed. “let me… wanna fill you up. need to—fuck, I need to.”

you nodded, barely coherent, breath catching. “yes, please… inside, chan.”

that was it. he let out a raw, guttural sound—somewhere between a sob and a growl—as he sank deep and stilled, buried to the hilt. his body tensed above you, head dropping to your shoulder as his hips twitched through the release. warmth flooded into you as he came, wave after wave, chanting your name like a lifeline.

“you’re mine,” he whispered, breath shaky. “fuck.. I’m so deep in you… you take it so well. you’re meant for me.”

you could feel every throb, every pulse of him inside, and it only made you cling tighter. the air was thick with the sound of your breaths, your heartbeats syncing, bodies tangled, still trembling from the intensity.

after a moment, he raised his head, kissed your temple with a soft hum. “you okay, baby?” he whispered, voice hoarse and full of warmth.

and god, despite the sweat, the mess, the ruined sheets—everything felt perfect.

the air felt heavier now—not from lust, but from the silence that came with release. the rhythm had slowed, and so had time. your skin buzzed with the aftermath, oversensitive, warm, kissed all over with sweat and love. chan collapsed beside you with a soft groan, still catching his breath, hand reaching for yours instantly, fingers locking like it was instinct.

neither of you spoke for a few seconds. just… breath. the kind that came from letting go too much and feeling too much.

he nuzzled into your shoulder, hair damp, his voice barely a whisper. "you okay? was that… too much?" you shook your head softly, too blissed out to form words. so instead, you turned, tucked your nose under his chin, and let out a hum—content, safe, full.

“I can’t believe we actually—” he started, then cut himself off with a sheepish laugh. you felt it rumble in his chest before he said, “I think I literally begged you to come on my face. that—uh. that happened.”

you burst into a breathy laugh, your body jolting slightly from the sudden movement. “yeah, you were kind of…” you paused, pretending to think, “feral.”

chan groaned and covered his face. “nooo, don’t remind me. that damn candle or whatever was in that incense—pure evil.” you looked over. the candle on the desk flickered innocently, as if it hadn't just witnessed the filthiest hour of your lives.

“It’s still going,” you teased, “should we be scared?”

“we should file a restraining order.” he deadpanned.

but then, he got quiet again. and his hand came up to trace slow circles on your side, his voice barely a breath. “but seriously… you’re so beautiful when you fall apart for me.” the words hit different now. no lust behind them. just warmth.

and for the first time since it all started, your eyes met in the dim candlelight—no tension, no rush. just two people wrapped up in each other, sweaty, tired, and impossibly soft.

If you enjoyed it, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments and see a reblog! thank you so much for your support!

taglist: @velvetmoonlght @laylasbunbunny @inishij @m-325 @itvenorica124

[vanesycho]

han jisung + fem!reader • warning! smut, manipulation, emotional abuse, toxic dynamics. • 1,5k • m.list

Teaser ⟩ you're stuck in a cycle with him—late-night calls, empty promises, and the kind of love that hurts more than it heals. he says he’s not ready, yet he always finds his way back into your bed. and you let him, every time, hoping it’ll mean something more.

a/n | edited and reposted it, still not happy with the result but yeah, enjoy reading!

"hello?" you didn’t answer. you didn’t need to—the laughter, the pounding bass of the music, the clinking glasses… it was loud enough to speak for you. a sigh slipped through the phone, low and tired. "don’t go anywhere. I’m coming." you smiled, bitter and practiced. he always said that. like love only showed up when you were falling apart. like you had to be broken enough for him to remember you existed.

there were always sweet words in the air. floating, delicate, almost believable. and you knew—god, you knew—they’d only shatter later. but even then, you still wondered when he’d disappear again. because he always did. and yet you couldn’t enjoy a single moment without waiting for the ending.

to you, he was a coward. terrified of anything real, of anything that demanded consistency. he never wanted to stay. but his touch…his touch told different stories. and you were so starved for the fairytale that you clung to his hands like they meant something. like they meant forever. the lies were dressed in warmth, and it was easier to believe them than admit you were alone.

and when you asked for more…when you wanted clarity, something steady—you got the same answers every time.

"I'm not ready for this."

"just give us a little more time."

the hand that wrapped around your arm pulled you out of your thoughts. you didn’t even need to look. you knew it was him. “can you walk?” you just nodded. you weren’t drunk. not really. It was never the alcohol that made your head spin. It was him.

jisung kept an arm firm around your waist, guiding you like he was afraid you’d disappear. when you both got in the car, he didn’t start it right away. his hand gripped the steering wheel—tight, unmoving. his mouth opened, like he had something to say, but the words never came. he hesitated. maybe it wasn’t the right time. maybe he didn’t know how to say it. so he drove in silence, and the quiet filled everything he couldn’t.

though the silence felt like hell, the ride home was short. jisung walked you to the door. you opened it—but before you could step inside, his hand landed on your wrist. “can I come in?” his voice was barely more than a whisper, trembling even though he knew your answer. he always knew. he just asked to make himself feel better. to pretend like this was mutual. like it was your choice, too.

you didn’t say anything. you just left the door open behind you. your steps were slow, almost lazy, like your body was there but your mind wasn’t. jisung followed. he watched you.

you didn’t speak.

you didn’t look back.

and that silence? It started to eat at him.

he sat on the edge of your bed, eyes glued to the trail of clothes falling from your body—one by one. when his hands finally reached your waist, you didn’t flinch. you just turned to face him. his eyes lifted to meet yours, searching for something—anything. “please,” he breathed, “don’t stay silent like this.”

your emotions were spiraling, like a storm you couldn’t calm. you couldn’t think straight when he was around. what you wanted—what you knew you should do—was scream at him, curse him until your throat burned, and shove him out of your house for good.

but then his hand moved.

warm. gentle. too familiar.

It slid slowly across your waist, over bare skin.

and just like that, your thoughts scattered. “It’s okay,” he whispered, lips grazing your ear. “I’m here, hm? you don’t need to hide your feelings from me.” god, he always said the right things. even when he didn’t mean them.

you flinched. tried to pull away from his intoxicating touch. but your feet refused to move. because you didn’t know when you’d see him again.

your hands moved to his shoulders,hesitant, trembling. and the ghost of a smile curled on his lips. he didn’t dare break eye contact. "just like that,” he whispered, his voice sinking straight into your spine like warm poison. his grip on your waist loosened, only to travel lower, his fingertips trailing slowly, achingly, down your thigh. you shuddered.

and when your hips finally settled on his lap, your throat clenched around a hard swallow. because you knew. you knew exactly what was about to happen. again.

another night.

another repeat.

another cycle you swore you’d break but never did.

one of his hands kept grazing your thigh, light, lazy, cruelly gentle. the other moved to the back of your neck, fingers curling like a promise. his breath brushed your lips—warm and familiar. “I feel like you want me to stop,” he murmured, almost like a challenge. “but your silence is confusing me.”

because your brain was screaming at you to stop—telling you this was wrong, that you'd just end up hurting all over again. but your body? your body was already burning for him. needing him. craving the twisted sense of love he always left on your skin.

“no. I want you,” you whispered, your voice barely steady before you crashed your lips against his. jisung didn’t see it coming, he froze for a second, but then he kissed you back like he’d been holding it in for weeks. his hands were everywhere, desperate, like he was trying to memorize the shape of you all over again. your own fingers slipped under his shirt, searching for warmth, for comfort, for anything real. his grip tightened on your hips, pulling you down onto him, and when you felt him hard and ready beneath you, the moan that left your lips was pure surrender.

jisung pulled away just enough to guide you down onto the bed, his hands never leaving your skin. his shirt was off in seconds, discarded somewhere on the floor, both of you moving too fast for a night that was supposed to be yours. but it felt rushed, reckless… like something forbidden, like the thrill of getting caught was part of the pleasure.

he hovered above you, his breath mingling with yours, and this time his lips moved slower—pressing soft kisses to your skin as if he was afraid you might break. “let me take care of you,” he murmured, voice low and warm. another kiss followed, this time to your jaw. “just give yourself to me.” a final kiss landed on your neck, sending a chill down your spine as your body arched up to meet his.

you’d heard those words a hundred times before, but still, you let them in, hoping that if you didn’t think too hard, maybe the regret wouldn’t hit as hard later.

“jisung… please…” you whispered, your voice trembling with need. your body was on fire, the dull ache between your thighs now impossible to ignore. jisung leaned in, pressing one final kiss to your lips before slipping off his pants, not wanting to make you wait a second longer. the sight of his swollen cock, already dripping with pre-cum, made your breath hitch. every part of you was screaming for him.

he lined himself up at your entrance, pausing just long enough to lock eyes with you, as if silently asking for permission he already knew you'd give. then, he slowly pushed the tip in, his breath hitching at the sudden warmth. “fuck, I missed this feeling,” he moaned, voice low and desperate.

you both let out a breathy moan as he sank in deeper, inch by inch. jisung leaned over you, his forehead pressed to your neck, one of his hands searching for yours in the dark. the fullness, the heat, everything about him was overwhelming. It made the world blur.

“I love you so much,” he whispered against your ear. “I need you to believe me… y-you’re the only one I’ll ever come back to.” he pulled back slightly, his grip on your hand tightening. “you’re on my mind...every single night.”

your eyes welled up with tears, though you weren’t sure if it was from the overwhelming pleasure or the unbearable truth that his warmth would be gone by morning. you didn’t speak, words felt pointless. jisung knew that, too. so he just held you close, letting his voice be the only thing grounding you.

his thrusts grew harder, deeper. the way your walls clenched around him made his breath stutter. “jisung…” his name fell from your lips, half a moan, half a cry.

“shh, I know, baby… just come for me, yeah?”

your moans tangled together, bodies moving in perfect, desperate sync. jisung shut his eyes tightly, biting his lip to hold back. he made sure you reached your high first—watching you fall apart beneath him—before pulling out with a strained groan and spilling himself across your stomach.

after a while, he lay down beside you, his body heavy with exhaustion. his arms instinctively found you, pulling you into him while your eyes stayed glued to the ceiling. the blanket he tugged over both of you was cold, making your body shiver for a moment.

jisung smiled softly and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “get some sleep,” he whispered. you wrapped your arms around his waist, quietly desperate, maybe if you held him tightly enough, he wouldn't be able to leave in the morning.

as your eyelids grew heavy and you drifted into sleep, the last thing you heard was a gentle, "I love you." and god, how you wished it were true this time.

If you enjoyed it, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments and see a reblog! thank you so much for your support !

taglist: @velvetmoonlght @laylasbunbunny @emkvlixsx @inishij

[vanesycho]

Big admirer of your work

omg thank you so much love🥹🤍🤍

I'm so glad you like it🫶🏻

[vanesycho]

Umm, as a full-chested girl...I'm gonna need you to write about bf Hyunjin not being able to keep his hands off reader, please and thanksss :) ❤️

I'm not sure if you're able to see links, but this is the TikTok I saw that inspired this idea. Oh, to be Han 😔

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP865Q7J4/

• warning! non-explicit (but heavily suggestive) content. includes breast worship, groping, biting, and obsessive touches. • m.list / 0,8k word

a/n | I'm sorry it took so long..enjoy reading!!

you were sitting cross-legged on the bed, casually scrolling through your phone, completely lost in your own little world. you didn’t notice the pair of eyes shamelessly lingering on your body—more specifically, your chest. hyunjin licked his lips absentmindedly, a soft exhale leaving his mouth. he didn’t even realize he was biting down on his bottom lip at the thought of sinking his teeth into your nipple, clearly outlined through the fabric of your shirt.

“you good?” your voice pulled him out of his trance. he blinked and looked up at you. “h-huh? yeah.” you raised your brows, skeptical. “I’m not dumb enough to not notice your eyes all over my boobs.” he froze for a second, then let out a sheepish half-smile—caught red-handed. “can you really blame me? you’re walking around the house without a bra, your strap’s slipping off your shoulder, and honestly—your tit’s one breath away from popping out—” he paused mid-sentence to take a deep breath, the tension clearly getting to him.

then, without warning, his fingers slipped under your shirt, reaching for your breast with a kind of hunger that made you chuckle. you didn’t stop him—in fact, you found it endearing. he always got so needy when it came to your chest, and that level of obsession was... honestly kind of adorable.

hyunjin squeezed the soft flesh in his palm a couple of times, slow and possessive, letting his hand linger there. his thumb brushed over your nipple, then started gently rubbing, drawing lazy, teasing circles. you noticed his breathing getting heavier, his gaze darker with each passing second.

It didn’t take long before he gave in completely. he moved to sit in your lap, his hands gripping the hem of your shirt. he looked up at you, silently asking. you helped him pull it off, lifting your arms above your head.

the moment your bare chest was revealed, his lips parted like he’d just unwrapped the most precious gift. his eyes glazed over, half-lidded and heavy with need. “you have no idea what you’re doing to me…” he whispered, almost to himself.

then he leaned in. his tongue flicked across one nipple—slow, wet, and deliberate—just once, sending a shiver down your spine. a second later, his lips closed around it, sucking hard enough to make your back arch with a sharp gasp. his hand found your other breast, fingers kneading and massaging it with a warm, firm grip. there was no rush in his touch, only hunger, and a kind of worship that made your skin burn.

he bit down slowly—just enough to make you gasp, never enough to truly hurt. “so soft,” he murmured against your skin, switching sides with deliberate slowness. his lips glistened with spit as his tongue dragged lazily across your skin, hot and slick. “you’re not leaving this bed today,” he breathed, eyes locking with yours as he sucked hard again, teeth grazing your sensitive skin just enough to make you whimper. “not when these beauties are out. not while I’m here.”

his hands moved like he had all the time in the world—slow, warm, unashamedly greedy. he cupped both of your breasts again, thumbs circling your nipples with slow, calculated pressure, his eyes following every twitch, every little arch your body made under his touch. you whined beneath him, your body writhing in response, but he only smirked, lowering his head once more.

“so responsive,” he whispered, lips grazing the curve of your breast before he moved to suck just below your collarbone, a fresh mark blooming under his mouth. “I could do this all day…” his thumbs were quickly replaced by his mouth once more—open-mouthed kisses turned into wet, languid licks, then into sharp bites, like he was trying to memorize the way you felt in his hands, trying to swallow your shape. he sucked hard again, the pressure leaving behind another angry red mark. his tongue followed, slow and hot, sliding over the spot as if both apologizing and teasing, both softening the sting and keeping the fire alive.

he used both hands to push your breasts together, burying his face between them and moaning like he was the one being touched, your breath hitched. “fuck—can’t stop touching you,” he groaned, voice low and rough, full of frustration and obsession. when his teeth grazed your nipple, your fingers tangled in his hair and tightened. “shit—careful.”

hyunjin pulled back for a second, pressing a soft, slow kiss to the spot he’d bitten, like a silent apology. then he leaned up and captured your lips. “I’m sorry, baby… I just lose myself when it comes to your tits.”

before you could slip your shirt back on, he laid his head against your chest again, eyes fluttering shut for a moment of peace. you laughed quietly when his hand absentmindedly grabbed your breast again. such a baby.

If you enjoyed it, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments and see a reblog! thank you so much for your support!

taglist: @velvetmoonlght @laylasbunbunny @emkvlixsx

[vanesycho]

I just want to let y'all know I opened a taglist

If there are any groups/members you would like to tag, you can fill out the form

thank you!!

[vanesycho]

• warning! threesome, fingering, vaginal sex, clit slapping, overstimulation, oral fixation(finger sucking), dirty talk, slight choking, cum play / cum tasting • 1,2k • m.list

being with hyunjin and chan looks so fun and nice on the outside. who doesn't like the attention coming from two gentle and sweet men? chan's sweet words...hyunjin's soft touches...that's how your day goes!

most of the time.

"last time doll. come on, we know you can do it." you didn't know how many times you'd heard it, 3? 5? yet somehow they found a way to put their hands on you. hyunjin expertly fucked you with three fingers between your legs, as your back was pressed against chan's chest, torturing your clit with his fingers. "It’s… too much…" you barely managed to whisper, voice trembling as a loud moan tore from your lips. hyunjin’s fingers curled perfectly against that devastating spot inside you, making your entire body tremble—not just your legs, but every nerve lit up from the intensity. the pleasure was relentless, drowning you with each slow, deliberate motion.

"stay still." chan's voice was rough, commanding—sending a shiver straight down your spine. his free hand pressed firmly against your stomach, pinning you back against his chest, holding you in place as if your body wasn’t already trembling beyond control. the constant assault on your g-spot had your legs tightening involuntarily, your lungs forgetting how to breathe. hyunjin let out a low, throaty moan when he felt you clenching, knowing you were right on the edge. "fuuuck yeah… that’s it, baby. I wanna see you fall apart." chan’s fingers are still on your clit, rubbing tight circles over the most sensitive part of you—deliberate and devastating. your moans only made his cock throb harder, his breath hot and ragged right beside your ear. "you’re gonna make me lose my mind." your thoughts blurred into static—nothing existed but them, the pleasure, and the way your body pulsed under their touch. It didn’t take long before you shattered around hyunjin’s fingers, a cry escaping you as your head fell back onto chan’s shoulder, your body going limp from the release.

but chan didn’t stop—his fingers kept circling your clit, relentless and precise. when you instinctively tried to clamp your legs shut, hyunjin’s hands shot out to stop you, keeping you wide open for more. then chan shifted tactics. he began lightly slapping your clit with the tips of his fingers, fast and cruel, sending sharp jolts through your already trembling body. you whimpered—broken and tearful, the sensation too much to bear, yet impossible to escape. "no-"

"shh"

he kept going for a few more torturous seconds before finally easing off and guiding you to lie back on the bed. chan settled between your legs without a word, eyes locked on your soaked core, while hyunjin moved to the head of the bed. he gently grabbed your chin, tilting it up as his thumb traced your trembling bottom lip. "open your mouth, baby." you obeyed, lips parting softly—and he didn’t wait. his thumb slipped past your lips, pressing down on your tongue as he made you suck it slow and gentle. the sight of you like that, eyes dazed and lips wrapped around him, had hyunjin smirking in delight. the soft whimper you let out around his thumb made his eyes darken, his thumb pressing deeper just to feel your reaction again.

chan spread your legs with ease, his gaze dark as he used two fingers to part your soaked folds. a low, satisfied sigh escaped him at the sight of your glistening arousal. once he’d had his fill of looking, he pulled his hand away and lined up his cock at your entrance, dragging the thick tip through your wetness. you felt the pressure building—his size pressing right where you were already so sensitive—and tried to speak, to tell him you couldn’t take any more. but hyunjin’s thumb was still in your mouth, muffling every desperate sound. "hm? were you trying to say something?" hyunjin teased, voice smooth as silk. he slowly pulled his finger out—but just as your lips parted to form words, chan buried himself inside you in one sharp, devastating thrust. a strangled moan escaped instead, your back arching as your walls clenched tightly around him. the way you responded—how your body trembled and clung to his cock—made hyunjin grin as he trailed his fingers down your chest, grazing over every trembling inch of you. "oh fuck—you're hugging me so good baby… you're so good" chan groaned, hips pulsing forward as he sank even deeper.

he didn’t even give you a moment to adjust. he immediately started to move, thrusting into you with steady, unforgiving strokes—burying himself to the hilt every single time. each thrust was deep, precise, dragging moans from his throat as the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed loudly through the room. he grabbed your legs and lifted them, folding you slightly as he leaned over—forcing your bodies impossibly close. that position made everything more intense, and chan knew it. a teasing smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he noticed the glossy tears pooling in your eyes. "aw… is it too much, baby? can’t take it, huh?" he murmured mockingly. meanwhile, hyunjin was still at your side, eyes locked on your face as he gently pinched and played with your hardened nipple. he wiped away a stray tear with his thumb before leaning in, his lips brushing your cheek in mock affection. "too bad," he whispered into your ear, voice low and laced with mischief. "we haven’t even gotten what we wanted yet…"

chan’s breath was growing more erratic, short gasps leaving his lips with every deep thrust as he filled you over and over again. the helpless whimpers and tearful cries slipping from you—because you were just too sensitive, too overstimulated—only spurred him on. a low growl rumbled in his throat as he tossed his head back, eyes fluttering shut in sheer bliss. “It won’t take long… I’m so close,” he muttered under his breath, voice laced with desperation. his pace grew rougher, hips slamming into you with reckless hunger. “fuck—gonna fill that tight little pussy of yours,” he gritted out, his chest rising and falling rapidly from the effort. you could barely process his words—your own orgasm was building fast, but your body was too worn out, too overwhelmed. you didn’t even have the strength to speak; your mouth hung open in silent moans, eyes hazy, every nerve ending on fire.

hyunjin’s hands were roaming all over your trembling body, fingertips ghosting down your sides and up to your head—tracing every inch of skin he could reach. when your moans began to rise in pitch, signaling just how close you were, he leaned down and captured your lips without warning. his tongue slid into your mouth, slow and intentional, curling around yours with a needy kind of affection that made your stomach flutter. one of his hands found its way to your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. he groaned softly into the kiss, your noises muffled against his mouth, the vibration of your shared moans heating up the air between you. "cum with me, baby… yeah?" chan’s voice cut through the haze, breathless and commanding. "make a mess for us. you can do it." you could barely breathe, the weight of hyunjin’s kiss and the relentless rhythm of chan’s thrusts pushing you right to the edge. hyunjin finally pulled back, his lips dragging against yours as he bit down hard on your bottom lip—right as you were about to fall apart completely.

“cumming, cumming—fuck—” chan’s cock twitched deep inside you as you exhaled a long, shuddering breath, his body pulling back slowly, savoring every last drop he’d given you. chan smiled, breathless and satisfied, watching the slick fluid glisten and drip from your slick folds. hyunjin leaned down, fingers tracing through the wetness between your legs, then teasingly slipped two fingers inside your still-sensitive hole. he brought them to his lips, tasting you slowly, eyes locked on yours, that faintly salty flavor drawing a low, pleased hum from him. “mm..should I eat you again?” you shook your head quickly, making both chan and hyunjin chuckle softly at your reaction.

chan reached out on one side, hyunjin on the other, pulling you into a warm, tangled embrace. you rested your head between their bare, heated bodies, a gentle smile spreading across your face as your eyes fluttered closed. the last thing you remembered before drifting off were their sweet whispers and soft kisses, wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth and love.

If you enjoyed it, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments and see a reblog! thank you so much for your support!

taglist:

[skyefiles]

birthday mayhem | l.dh

chaotic boyfriend!haechan x birthday girl!reader

❝ on your birthday, haechan messed up the delivery address and had to race across the city to get your gifts back. meanwhile, he sent you on a sweet treasure hunt with help from his friends, each giving you cute clues and little surprises. you visited your favorite spots, laughed a lot, and felt how much he really cares. in the end, you found him—tired, messy, and holding your cake and flowers—just before he got down on one knee to propose. ❞

genre. fluff & crack ⭑ word count. 7.5k + 9 screenshots

content. birthday chaos... a lot!, haechan, as always, dragging the boys into his mess, down bad!haechan, fluff fluff fluff, haechan is super dedicated and you're his queen

“No, you’re messing with me!” Haechan let out a strangled laugh, though there was no humor behind it—only rising panic curdling in his chest.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Lee, but we delivered to the address you provided,” the delivery man replied, voice steady and professional—completely indifferent to the full-blown crisis Haechan was having on the other end.

He gritted his teeth, fighting to stay calm. “Fine! Then give me the address. I’ll fix this myself.” His free hand clenched into a fist, nails digging into his palm.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we can’t disclose—”

“Mark, I’m gonna lose my mind—” Haechan hissed, shoving the phone into Mark’s hands before he did something regrettable, like throw it across the room.

Mark sighed and took over the call, already negotiating with the delivery guy while Haechan paced the living room like a man possessed.

How could he screw up something this important?

He double-checked everything!

Triple-checked!

And now—God—your gifts, your birthday surprise… everything he had spent weeks planning was falling apart.

The ring.

His heart dropped to his stomach.

That stupidly expensive, carefully chosen ring that was supposed to slip onto your pretty finger tonight—gone, sitting somewhere across town in the hands of complete strangers.

He squeezed his eyes shut, cursing under his breath.

He needed to fix this.

Fast.

“Okay, good news and bad news,” Mark said, turning around, holding the phone in one hand, his expression a strange mix of sympathy and amusement. “Which do you want first?”

Haechan was already sitting on the floor, his arms locked tightly around his knees, bouncing slightly like a stressed-out child. His face was crumpled with panic.

“Good first. Please. I need something good,” he muttered into the fabric of his jeans.

“Good news: he gave me the address.” Mark waved the phone triumphantly. “Bad news: it's on the complete opposite side of the city.”

The words hit Haechan like a punch to the gut. He actually winced, clutching his knees tighter. He could swear he heard a crack somewhere inside his heart.

“Oh my God…” he whimpered. “I’m the worst boyfriend in history…” His voice cracked pitifully as he buried his face between his knees. His shoulders sagged as he felt the sting of tears at the corners of his eyes.

Mark stared at him in disbelief. “Dude, I’m starting to think you care more about her birthday than she does.” He crouched down next to Haechan, who looked genuinely on the verge of collapse.

“Of course I do! The day my beloved queen, my goddess, the meaning of my whole existence was born. How could I not?” He said in a dramatic tone, hyperventilating.

Mark rubbed his temple. “Okay, listen. What if we distract her? Y'know, plan something while you run around picking up her gifts?"

A muffled sniff came from Haechan. “Like what…” His voice was hoarse and small, barely audible against his jeans.

Mark paused, searching his brain for something—anything—that wouldn’t result in Haechan combusting from stress. “Didn't you say once that you wanted to do a treasure hunt with her?” he offered cautiously. “Maybe… this is the perfect time? Make it feel intentional?”

He winced a little, expecting the suggestion to somehow make things worse.

But Haechan slowly lifted his head, wide brown eyes gleaming—not just from unshed tears, but from the unmistakable spark of an idea taking root.

A dangerous spark.

“Oh, no. You’re thinking too hard—” Mark muttered, but it was too late.

That mischievous glint was back.

The same one Haechan always got before dragging everyone into his wild, extra ideas.

A crooked, teary smile spread across Haechan’s face. “This is perfect.”

Mark groaned, getting to his feet, scrubbing a hand over his face in defeat. Still, he couldn't help the fondness tugging at his mouth.

“Gross, dude. Your nose is running.” He tossed a crumpled napkin from the kitchen counter at Haechan’s head, wrinkling his nose dramatically.

Haechan laughed weakly, wiping his face, then shot Mark a crooked grin—bright and boyish despite the chaos around him.

And just like that, the mission was back on.

Haechan bounced to his feet, buzzing with frantic energy, grabbing his phone and firing off frantic texts to the group chat.

They were doing this.

He was getting your gifts back.

He was making this the best, most unforgettable birthday of your life.

The soft golden morning light streamed gently through the sheer curtains of your bedroom, casting warm patterns across the walls. You stirred beneath the covers, blinking away sleep as your eyes adjusted to the brightness. The quiet hum of the city outside drifted in faintly through the window, grounding you in the gentle hush of a new day.

You sat up slowly, hands running through your hair as you stretched your arms above your head with a sleepy yawn. There was a certain stillness to the room—a kind that felt like a held breath.

Then, the scent hit you.

Warm, buttery toast. The sweetness of strawberries. A faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

Your chest fluttered with soft recognition.

Of course he was here.

It was your birthday. There was no way Lee Donghyuck—your chaotic, loving, occasionally over-the-top boyfriend—was going to let you wake up alone.

A smile tugged at your lips as you slid out of bed and padded across the cool floor, drawn like a magnet to the source of the scent.

And there he was.

In the kitchen, bathed in the soft glow of the morning light, Haechan stood by the table, carefully placing down two plates like they were fragile glass. He was wearing your favorite hoodie of his—slightly oversized, sleeves pushed up haphazardly. His hair was a little messy, like he'd barely run his fingers through it. But his expression… it was focused. Delicate. Like he was setting up a tiny celebration in your honor with the tenderness it deserved.

He didn’t notice you right away. Not until you leaned against the doorway, your voice still touched with sleep.

“Hyuck…”

His head snapped up.

His whole face lit up—instantly. That boyish grin bloomed like sunrise, and his eyes softened like they always did when they looked at you.

“You’re awake!” he grinned, already crossing the room to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “Happy birthday, sleepyhead.”

You wrapped your arms around his middle, melting into the warmth of his hoodie and the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat. He swayed with you a little, resting his chin on top of your head.

“You made breakfast?” you mumbled into his chest, your smile hidden against the fabric.

“Of course,” he said proudly, pulling away just enough to look into your eyes. “Only the best for the birthday royalty.”

You laughed softly, and he looked so proud of himself that your heart swelled.

The table was beautiful.

Pancakes with strawberries and powdered sugar. Toast with a tiny heart cut into it. A cup of your favorite coffee, made just how you liked it. And even a tiny candle stuck into a single croissant.

You sat down together, sharing soft bites, laughs between sips, kisses peppered on your face, and his pinky brushing yours like a quiet promise.

But after a while, you noticed him glance at the clock—twice. And his knee bounced under the table just a little.

“Hey,” you said gently, setting your fork down. “Is everything okay?”

He blinked, then gave you a sheepish smile. “Yeah—yeah, everything’s perfect. I just…”

He reached for your hand, warm and slightly calloused from guitar strings he plays so often. His thumb rubbed soft circles into your knuckles.

“I actually need to head out soon,” he said carefully, eyes watching your reaction. “But you don’t need to do anything yet. Just… stay in your cute pajamas and wait by the door, okay?”

You tilted your head, suspicious. “Why?”

He grinned, squeezing your hand. “Because Mark’s coming to pick you up.”

Your eyes narrowed playfully. “Mark?”

“Yep. And no, I’m not telling you what he’s doing,” he said before you could ask more. “All I’ll say is—it’s part of your birthday surprise. And I need you to trust me, alright?”

You pouted, and he groaned.

“Don’t give me that face, babe. It’s already hard enough to leave you when you’re sitting here looking all pretty and pouty.”

He stood up, kissing your temple, then your cheek, then your lips—quick, fluttering little pecks that made you giggle.

“Be ready when he arrives,” he said softly, brushing a hand down your arm. “You’re gonna have the best birthday ever. I promise.”

And with one last smile—wide and warm and so Haechan—he grabbed his keys and left with a wink.

And you?

You were left smiling into your coffee, already wondering what chaos he’d planned with his ridiculous, beautiful heart.

You didn’t have to wait long. Barely an hour after Haechan left, your phone buzzed with a message from Mark:

[10:03 AM] Mark Lee 🚗: “Get that pretty birthday self outside. Your knight in slightly wrinkled armor awaits.”

Laughing to yourself, you headed to your bedroom, threw on something cute but comfy—something you knew Haechan would love to see you in later—and stepped out the door.

Mark was leaning against his car in a hoodie and jeans, holding out a bouquet of mismatched wildflowers with a dramatic flourish.

“M’lady,” he said with an exaggerated bow.

“You’re such a dork.”

“It’s my birthday job,” he grinned, opening the passenger door. “Get in. Phase one awaits.”

You buckled in, still smiling as he pulled into traffic. The ride was filled with Mark’s usual nonsense—playlist shuffles between R&B and some chaotic EDM, his one-man commentary show about the drivers around him, and the occasional side-eye when you asked where you were going.

“You’ll see,” he’d say with a wink.

Eventually, you recognized the streets. Your eyes widened as he turned a familiar corner.

The café.

Your café.

The cozy little spot you and Haechan always visited. The one where the baristas already knew your favorite orders and where you'd spent countless rainy afternoons sharing pastries and playful banter in the back booth. The one where one of the baristas had become one of your best friends.

Mark parked and turned off the engine, grinning at you.

“Alright,” he said, turning to face you. “Go inside. They’re expecting you. Oh—” he reached into his jacket and handed you a small envelope, “—take this. You’ll need it after.”

Your heart was already fluttering as you pushed open the café door.

The familiar scent of roasted beans and sugar rushed over you. And waiting behind the counter was Jaemin, flashing you a mischievous smile. You hadn’t even realized he worked today.

“Happy birthday,” he said smoothly, handing you a small pastry box tied with a ribbon.

You blinked. “Wait—did you bake me something?”

“No,” he snorted, already wiping down the counter. “Haechan would fight me.”

You opened the box carefully—and inside was a tiny tart, your favorite. Nestled beside it was a folded note and a small square Polaroid.

Your heart squeezed.

It was a photo of you and Haechan—candid and warm, taken from a slight angle. You were laughing, hand half-raised like you were trying to block the shot, and he was kissing your cheek with his eyes scrunched shut in mock exaggeration.

You swallowed around the emotion in your throat and opened the note.

Clue #1: “Where we first danced in public, remember? I made a fool of myself, and you said it was the best thing you’d ever seen. Renjun’s waiting with your next surprise. P.S. Tell Jaemin he’s not allowed to flirt with you today. Birthday rule.”

You burst out laughing, folding the note as Jaemin raised his eyebrows.

“Tell him I said that’s boring,” Jaemin called out with a smirk.

“I’m telling him you said that,” you shot back, walking out with the Polaroid pressed to your chest, heart already glowing.

Mark was waiting by the car, biting into a croissant like this was the most normal day ever.

“Next stop?” you asked, sliding into the passenger seat.

He gave you a playful look.

“Let’s go see how good your memory is.”

And with that, the adventure continued—your heart racing with excitement and warmth, wondering what Haechan had planned next.

The car ride to the bookstore was filled with the kind of warm anticipation that buzzed quietly beneath your skin. You were holding the Polaroid in your hands still, glancing at it every so often like it might hold some secret code. Mark noticed, but didn’t say anything—he just smiled to himself, clearly enjoying the mystery as much as you were.

Eventually, he pulled up in front of the small independent bookstore tucked between a florist and a vintage clothing shop. You knew this place. You and Haechan had stumbled upon it during a rainy weekend stroll months ago, when you’d ducked inside to avoid the downpour and ended up dancing clumsily between the aisles while soft jazz played overhead.

It was the first time Haechan danced with you in public—a silly, half-spun waltz right by the poetry section.

Mark unlocked your seatbelt with an exaggerated click. “Your next prince is inside. I’ll wait in the car so you don’t feel like you’re being followed by a reality show.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately and pushed open the glass door, a small bell jingling above your head. Inside, the world smelled of old pages, leather bindings, and something sweet—like cinnamon tea.

You looked around slowly. The sunlight poured through the wide windows in gentle streaks, casting golden lines across the hardwood floor and dust particles that danced in the air like little bits of magic.

And there he was—Renjun—standing by the poetry section with a small book in his hand, flipping through it with exaggerated elegance. He glanced up the moment you entered, his lips twitching with the faintest smile like he’d been waiting longer than he’d admit.

“Took you long enough,” he said, slipping the book shut and tucking it neatly back onto the shelf. “I was starting to recite sonnets to myself just to stay awake.”

You laughed softly, walking over. “Please. You love this place more than your apartment.”

He gave you a playful side-eye. “I do, but I don’t love standing around like some enchanted librarian while Haechan plays romantic scavenger hero.”

“Enchanted librarian suits you, though.”

Renjun pretended to gag, but his smile broke through anyway. “Okay, okay. Enough stalling. I’ve got something for you.”

He stepped aside and motioned to a display table behind him. “He told me to pick a book for you. Said it had to be meaningful. I had like… a crisis about it.”

You walked over and found the table set with a single wrapped gift—book-shaped, of course. Beside it was another Polaroid, this time of you and Haechan sitting in this very bookstore, sharing a drink while he dramatically read poetry to you from a worn-out book. Your face was blurry from laughter, mid-giggle, and Haechan’s mouth was wide open mid-line, one hand over his heart.

You smiled, heart swelling.

“Go on,” Renjun urged. “Open it.”

You peeled the wrapping back carefully. Inside was a copy of your favorite childhood novel—the very edition you once told Haechan your mom used to read to you from. He had remembered.

Pressed inside the front cover was another note in his handwriting:

Clue #2: “You always said music speaks when words can't. So I figured your next stop should be somewhere full of voices—even if they’re not saying anything at all. There’s a boy there with headphones always around his neck and the softest smile I’ve ever been jealous of. He’s got your next gift. P.S. Don’t let him be too cool! Don’t look too much, love!”

Renjun snorted behind you. “He called me at 1am crying because the first book he picked had a tragic ending.”

You laughed so hard you had to sit on the edge of the table for a moment, wiping at your eyes.

Before you left, Renjun pulled you into a rare hug, squeezing you a bit and kissing your temple.

“Happy birthday, idiot. He really put his whole soul into this.”

You clutched the book to your chest and headed out with another layer of joy wrapped around your heart.

Mark was already pulling a U-turn when you slid back into the passenger seat.

“Next?”

“The music shop,” you said, smiling.

The bell above the music shop door jingled softly as you stepped inside, a familiar scent of wood, old sheet music, and something slightly metallic greeting you. The cozy space was dimly lit with warm lights, and for a second, it seemed quiet—until, suddenly:

Strum.

A sharp, playful chord echoed across the shop, followed by another. Then—

“Baaaabe!” Jeno’s voice rang out dramatically as he slid into view on his knees, electric guitar in hand, strumming a short, silly but somehow impressive solo. He ended the riff with an exaggerated flourish, grinning like a kid at a talent show.

“You’re finally here!” he said, still kneeling like he’d just performed at a sold-out arena. “And yes, I have been practicing that move for an hour waiting for you, thanks for asking.”

You giggled, unable to help it, covering your face briefly as your cheeks warmed. Jeno chuckled, slinging the guitar behind his back and getting up to dust himself off.

“Alright, alright, now that I’ve thoroughly embarrassed myself,” he said, stepping behind the counter. “Time for the real reason you’re here.”

He pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper, worn at the corners like he’d read it a hundred times. “Donghyuck told me to give you this only after I properly welcomed you, rockstar-style.”

You reached for the page with curious fingers, and when you unfolded it, your heart skipped.

It was a handwritten song—one Haechan had written himself. His unique scrawl filled the page in black ink, little hearts dotting the i’s, and a few musical notes dancing in the margins. The lyrics were gentle, full of intimate lines about quiet mornings, soft laughter, and the way you scrunch your nose when you're thinking. One particular line stood out:

"You are the chorus to every love song I never dared to sing out loud—until now."

Jeno leaned against the counter, watching you with a quiet smile as you read. “He really put his heart into that. Even recorded a demo, but I wasn’t allowed to show you. ‘Too cringey,’ he said.”

You were already biting your lip to fight the smile threatening to stretch across your face. Your eyes watered slightly—overwhelmed, touched, and just incredibly in love.

“Oh, and before I forget,” Jeno added, pulling another paper from his back pocket with a dramatic flourish. “Clue number three. You’re getting close.”

You took it, still holding Haechan’s lyrics carefully in the other hand.

Clue #3: “He says he doesn’t like sunshine, but you’ve seen the way he smiles when the light hits the trees just right. He’s waiting where the trees hum with wind, and kids run free—the park, of course. Your next gift is with Jaemin. P.S. Ask him about the time I challenged him to a cartwheel contest. I pulled something I didn’t know I had.”

Jeno gave you a playful wink. “Good luck, birthday girl. And give Jaemin my regards—but don’t believe anything he tells you about that cartwheel contest.”

You laughed, clutching the song to your chest and heading back out, already wondering what Jaemin—and your boyfriend—had planned next.

Getting back to the car, you slid into the backseat, looking at Mark in the rearview.

“He really outdid himself this time, huh?” you asked, still glancing at the song.

“I fear he did…” he chuckled, shaking his head. “This man loves you more than anything on Earth… You should’ve been used to it by now,” he started the engine, finishing his sentence. “And better be ready for the next birthday, because I’m sure he’ll prepare something even bigger.”

You laughed, knowing this will be true. “This man is only making me worry about his birthday…” you pouted, thinking about how you could do something that big for his birthday.

“Let’s be for real… you’re the only gift he needs, dude.” Mark turned at you. “May I know where we are going next?”

“The Park, my knight in slightly wrinkled armor.” you grinned mockingly as he laughed. “With Jaemin…?”

“Don’t mention it, but he forgot his stop. He wasn’t supposed to be at the café… It’s his day off…” he tells, a hint of embarrassment in his tone while you just laughed.

Yeah, your friends were really sweet.

While you were off following beautifully crafted clues, laughing with his best friends, and slowly unraveling the love-wrapped puzzle he’d orchestrated…

Haechan was sprinting across the city like a man possessed.

The sun beat down on his back as he power-walked through the second apartment complex he’d been to that day. His hair clung to his forehead, cheeks pink from heat and sheer stress. In one hand, he clutched his phone with the cursed email from the delivery service confirming the wrong address he’d given, and in the other hand, he held the bouquet that he’d already fought for at stop number one.

He had retrieved the flowers from a confused elderly neighbor who was more interested in his “soft cheeks” and “nice thighs” than the actual explanation of why he was there. She’d patted his face twice before letting go of the bouquet, claiming he reminded her of her second husband.

It was traumatizing.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part stood in front of him now—arms crossed, hip cocked to the side, sunglasses sliding down her nose. An immaculately dressed woman in heels and a silk robe, tapping her foot as she leaned against her doorframe.

Haechan had survived a lot in his twenty-something years of life. Awkward first dates. A shattered ankle during a dance rehearsal. Once, a bird flew into his open window and pecked his ear. But none of it—none—compared to this.

His heart thundered in his chest as he climbed the creaky stairs to apartment 3C, flowers crushed slightly in his grip and sweat trailing down his spine. He’d been to the florist. And now only one mission remained:

The Ring.

His final boss battle.

He knocked.

The door opened halfway, chain still latched. She peeked through—a woman in her mid-thirties, glowing skin, silk robe, fresh blowout. Sunglasses on indoors. She looked like the type who had a glass of wine with breakfast and named her dog something like Versace.

“Yes?” she said, lifting an arched brow.

Haechan offered the friendliest, tightest, most obviously-fake smile he’d ever forced. “Hi! Good afternoon. I’m really sorry to bother you, but there’s been a huge mistake with a package I ordered. The address was wrong, and the delivery was sent here instead of my apartment. And the package—it’s, um… it’s really important. It’s a ring.”

She didn’t blink. “I received a ring, yes.”

“Oh thank God, okay—” Haechan said again, for the third time, panting like he’d just run a marathon. “But that ring is not for you, ma’am.”

She huffed, raising an eyebrow like a queen being addressed by a peasant. “The label had my address.”

“Yes, because I messed it up!” he pleaded, gesturing to himself in wild frustration. “I’m the idiot here! That doesn’t mean the ring’s yours!”

“I assumed it was from my husband,” she cut him off, nails clicking against the wood of the door. “He travels often. Sends me gifts. I thought he was making up for last week.”

“What happened last week?”

“He told me I shouldn’t buy a second blender.”

Haechan blinked. “I—okay, yeah, anyway, that ring? Not from him.”

“You don’t know that,” she said, already starting to close the door.

“You don’t even know if he’s your husband?!”

She pouted. “You’re very aggressive.”

“I’m in love!” Haechan exploded. “Do you understand?! I am in love with a woman who makes me want to write songs and cook pancakes at 2am and—and commit federal crimes if someone doesn’t give me her ring back!”

That caught her attention. She tilted her head, intrigued. “...Federal crimes?”

“Ma’am,” he said, clutching his chest like he’d been shot, “that ring was custom-made. Do you know how many hours I spent choosing the band? The diamond? I was gonna give it to her during her birthday dinner. With the cake! That you also have, by the way! I made it myself! It has pink frosting and tiny letters that spell out her nickname!”

She tilted her head. “Hmm…”

Haechan threw a hand against it, heart pounding. “Please. Look, I’m begging you. It was meant for my girlfriend. It’s her birthday today. I’ve been running all over the city fixing this mess because I got the address wrong and I can’t—I won’t let her think I forgot, or didn’t care, or didn’t plan everything. I’ve got her friends helping me create this whole treasure hunt, and she’s following clues right now with the biggest smile on her face and—and the ring’s the last one. It has to be perfect.”

“Please,” he added, softly now. “It’s not just a ring. It’s her dream ring. I saved for months. I memorized her Pinterest board. It’s got this little wave etched inside because she said once that I reminded her of the ocean. I’ve never given someone something so important in my life.”

There was a long pause. She tapped her chin thoughtfully, eyeing him up and down.

“I see,” she said. “Well… that’s very romantic.”

“It is,” Haechan said with a breath of relief.

“But also,” she added, folding her arms, “how do I know you’re telling the truth? For all I know, you could be a con artist trying to steal gifts off people’s porches.”

“I look like I run a scam Etsy page, not a crime ring!” he sputtered.

She didn’t move. Instead, she reached for her phone.

“I’m calling my husband.”

“Oh, come on—” he complained exasperated.

“No. If it’s not from him, I’ll return it. If it is, I’m keeping it.”

As she dialed, Haechan paced in circles outside her door, muttering dramatic curses to himself.

“Hello, babe,” she said sweetly into the phone, turning away slightly. “Did you send me a ring?”

Pause.

“No? Are you sure?”

Pause.

“A white gold band with a small sapphire detail inside.”

Longer pause.

“…No, don’t be mad, I thought it was from you!”

Haechan grinned.

Victory.

But then—

“What do you mean ‘give it back’?! It’s already in my jewelry box!”

Haechan’s head snapped up. He could hear the muffled voice on the other end, rising in pitch. She pulled the phone away from her ear, face souring.

Then she turned back to Haechan.

“Fine. I’ll return it. But you owe me.”

He blinked. “Owe you?”

“You interrupted my facial. I was mid-serum.”

“I—I can Venmo you ten bucks and a sorry emoji?”

She stared.

“…And I’ll leave a five-star Yelp review for your building?” he offered.

Finally, she huffed, disappeared inside, and returned with a sleek velvet ring box in one hand and the crumpled bakery box in the other.

“It’s not gluten-free, by the way,” she said, handing him the cake. “I checked.”

“I know.”

“But it’s really good,” she added. “Your girlfriend’s lucky.”

He took the box gently, like it was made of glass. The ring sat nestled inside, shining softly in the light.

“…So am I,” he murmured.

With a grateful bow, a muttered thank you, and a spin on his heel, Haechan bolted out of the building like a man on a mission.

Because now, finally—ring in hand, cake secured, though slightly violated, flowers salvaged—he was ready for the final reveal.

And nothing, nothing, could stop him now.

The soft breeze rustled through the trees as you made your way toward the wide-open park. Children’s laughter echoed in the air, mingling with the distant bark of a dog and the faint melody of someone playing guitar nearby. The path was lined with golden light, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows over the grass as it dipped closer to the horizon.

You didn’t have to search long.

There he was—Na Jaemin, leaning back lazily against a picnic table bench, hair glowing in the sun, a ridiculous birthday sash over his hoodie that read: “Agent of Love Delivery #4” in sparkly gold letters.

You couldn’t help but smile.

He spotted you, stood up immediately, and with a dramatic bow, held out his arms like a game show host. “You’ve made it, birthday girl!”

“Oh my god, Jaemin…” you laughed. “What are you wearing?”

“Haechan made me. He said it was either this or a banana costume. So if anything, I chose dignity.”

You snorted.

On the table behind him was a little box wrapped in peach paper and tied with a silver ribbon. Next to it, a mason jar filled with wildflowers and one of those tiny Polaroid prints—it was a shot of you and Haechan under a café umbrella, rain misting behind you. He had his arm around you, cheeks squished against yours, both your eyes crinkled with laughter.

“Okay, that’s cheating,” you whispered, already clutching the photo to your chest.

“Yeah, I know,” Jaemin smiled, sitting down beside you on the bench. “He kinda stacked the deck with that one.”

You opened the box next. Inside was a pair of matching beaded bracelets—simple, homemade, with tiny letter charms. Yours had the initials H + (Y) in tiny silver, and his had your name’s first letter alongside his. It was the kind of sweet that punched you in the chest a little.

Jaemin leaned his elbows on the table, watching your expression. “You like them?”

You nodded, biting your lip, a soft warmth blooming in your chest. “He made these?”

Jaemin nodded. “Stayed up till like four a.m. muttering about bead sizes and knot strength. It was like watching someone lose a game of Tetris in real life.”

You laughed, eyes still fixed on the bracelets.

“He really loves you, you know,” Jaemin added, gentler now. “Like, the mushy, ridiculous, ‘I’ll challenge my friends to public cartwheel contests’ kind of love.”

You blinked. “He what?”

Jaemin smirked, rubbing the back of his neck. “He was here this morning. Said the park was a ‘critical love station’ and dared me to a cartwheel contest to ‘fill the air with romantic energy.’ I think he pulled something, but refused to admit it.”

You laughed so hard you had to lean into the table. “Please tell me you won.”

“Barely,” Jaemin grinned. “I’ve got a trick knee. But I had something to prove.”

The two of you sat in the sunlight for a moment longer—you, sipping water Jaemin had thoughtfully brought, him watching the clouds like he was trying to spot hidden heart shapes.

Then he turned toward you with a glint in his eye.

“Ready for your next mission?”

You nodded, excited again.

Jaemin reached into his jacket pocket and handed you a folded envelope. Inside, a hand-drawn doodle of Haechan in stick-figure form, holding a giant tray of chicken nuggets like a trophy.

You read the clue aloud:

Clue #4 "Every birthday queen deserves a royal feast. A place with fries, shakes, and room to breathe. Two noisy gremlins await your arrival— One sings too loud, one eats like a rival. They’ve got your last clue and a sugary bite. Meet them at the mall, under the neon light."

“Chenle and Jisung?” you guessed, grinning.

Jaemin nodded. “Good luck getting a word in between them.”

You slipped the envelope into your bag, already eager to see what chaos awaited you next—and what Haechan had planned for the final surprise.

The mall was buzzing—kids darted around with ice cream cones, couples shared trays of fries under glowing fast-food signs, and the distant echo of someone playing piano on the lower level added a strangely dramatic soundtrack to your search.

But you had a mission.

You scanned the food court until you saw them: Chenle and Jisung, sitting at a table with a comically large balloon bouquet tied to it, one of which had your name spelled wrong on purpose (“HBD Y/N 🐸❤️”)—a Haechan joke if you ever saw one.

Jisung spotted you first. “She’s here!” he shouted, mouth half-full of fries, earning a scolding swat on the arm from Chenle.

“Swallow first, you trash goblin!” Chenle hissed, then turned to you with a blinding smile. “Happy Birthday, Birthday Girl!”

You reached them, immediately greeted by a cupcake shoved toward you with a plastic tiara balanced on top.

“You have to wear this,” Chenle grinned, holding up the tiara. “Haechan’s orders. He said if you didn’t, the whole thing would be null and void.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and placed the tiara on your head. Jisung clapped like you’d won an award.

“Now, before we give you the final clue…” Chenle paused dramatically. “You must pass…”

“…THE BIRTHDAY INTERROGATION!” Jisung declared, pounding the table.

“Oh god.” you murmured to yourself, expecting the worst ever from these two.

“Question one,” Chenle leaned in like a talk show host. “How annoying is Haechan on a scale from 1 to ‘I fear for his safety around sharp objects’?”

You snorted. “Solid eight and a half. But in an endearing way.”

“Respectable answer,” Jisung nodded solemnly, handing you a chicken nugget like it was a prize.

Chenle grinned. “Question two: Do you like cheesy love songs?”

You blinked. “I mean, yeah?”

“Good,” Chenle stood up, dusting off his hands like he’d just completed a job. “Because he wrote you a whole damn EP and plans to sing half of it in falsetto when you walk in.”

You laughed, covering your face with your hands. “You’re joking.”

“Unfortunately, no,” Jisung said. “We’ve heard rehearsals. It’s… passionate.”

“And loud,” Chenle added, handing you a small velvet pouch. Inside, tucked carefully, was a delicate key charm necklace—a symbol for the next stop.

Attached to the pouch was a final envelope. You unfolded it, heart skipping.

Final Clue “You’ve danced through laughter, photos, crumbs, and clues, Now it’s time to find the one who planned it all for you. Not a prince, but a loud-mouthed fool in love, Waiting where stars shine through the ceiling above. Penthouse suite, the view’s a delight— Come find me, my love. We’ll end the night right. 💛 — Your forever idiot, Haechan”

You held the note close to your chest, heart full.

“Ready?” Chenle grinned.

“Let’s go get your idiot,” Jisung added, wiggling his brows.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing the top floor of Haechan’s penthouse—and right in the center of the room stood your boyfriend, panting like he’d just outrun a bus.

And maybe he had.

His shirt was wrinkled and half-untucked, his hair disheveled and clinging to his forehead with sweat. In one hand, he clutched a sad-looking bouquet, the flowers clearly once beautiful but now crumpled from their journey—one was bent sideways like it had tried to escape. In the other hand was a slice of cake on a plastic plate, frosting sliding precariously off the side. Written in shaky red icing, clearly done in a moving car or under duress, were the words:

"HAPPY BRITHDAY (Y/N)"

He looked like a romantic wreck—disastrous but devoted, with the most relieved expression breaking over his face the second he saw you.

“Hey,” he breathed, voice raspy from the chaos of the day, “Surprise?”

You didn’t laugh at the misspelled cake. You didn’t point out the crushed petals or the fact that he looked like he’d been mugged by the wind.

You just ran straight into his arms, nearly knocking the plate to the floor as he caught you in a tight, sweaty, messy hug.

“I missed you so much today,” you murmured against his shoulder.

“I missed you more,” he whispered back, arms locking around your waist. “I swear I fought off at least two minor gods to get your cake back.”

“Oh my GOD, finally!” Chenle shouted from the couch. “You look like a wet dog, Lee Donghyuck.”

“I told you we should’ve wiped him down at the door,” Jisung added, wincing at the sight of Haechan’s ruined shirt.

“I think the cake’s bleeding,” Jaemin observed, poking the sagging icing with the end of a fork.

“Shut up!” Haechan barked over your shoulder, too tired to glare properly. “It’s romantic suffering, okay?!”

Mark walked over with a clean towel and patted Haechan’s face like a doting grandmother. “There, there. You did your best, champ.”

“I got the ring back,” Haechan mumbled into your hair, breath still fast. “That crazy lady tried to pretend it was hers—her husband chased me with a slipper, babe, I was nearly a crime statistic—”

“But you’re here,” you said gently, pulling back to look at him with a soft smile. “And you’re mine. And I love you.”

He stared at you for a second—dazed, overwhelmed, completely undone—and then gave you the most Haechan smile of all: crooked, tired, but absolutely bursting with affection.

“I love you more,” he said. “And next time, I’m triple-checking the delivery address.”

The boys groaned.

“You better!” Jeno called out, raising a soda can in mock salute. “Because none of us are doing this scavenger mission again!”

“Speak for yourself,” Jaemin said, smirking. “I got free cartwheels and cake out of it.”

“And I got to eat half the second cake,” Chenle added smugly.

“Wait, what—FIRST cake?” Renjun gawked.

But you were already pulling him by the hand toward the cozy setup at the balcony—a table full of candles, soft music, photos of your relationship strung like stars, and your friends shouting and laughing like they were born to make noise.

And amid the beautiful mess of the evening, you looked at Haechan—your ridiculous, stubborn, chaotic soulmate—and realized this was perfect.

Laughter still echoed from the living room—Chenle shouting over Jaemin about cake crumbs on the couch, Jeno and Jisung in a mock fight over the last soda, and Mark trying to get everyone to just sit down for one second.

But you and Haechan were out on the penthouse balcony, the door shut behind you, blocking out the noise.

It was quiet out here.

You leaned against the cool glass railing, the night breeze brushing your skin. Behind you, Haechan stood a step away, his hands stuffed in his pockets, face still flushed from the whirlwind of the day.

“Hey,” he said gently.

You turned, catching the way the city lights reflected in his eyes—warm, full of unspoken things.

He stepped closer, not saying anything for a beat. Just watching you. His breath slower now, but you could feel the tension humming beneath his skin, like something big was about to happen. Something he had been thinking about for a long time.

“I was gonna do this earlier,” he admitted softly, “but, you know… ring fiasco, stolen cake, getting chased with a slipper…” he rolled his eyes.

You laughed lightly, but your heart beat a little faster.

“But now…” Haechan exhaled and reached into his jacket pocket. Slowly. Carefully. His fingers shook a little as he pulled out a small velvet box—not in perfect condition, slightly dented from the day’s chaos, but clearly loved and protected.

He opened it with trembling hands. Inside sat the most beautiful ring—simple, elegant, glowing in the warm light of the city behind you.

“I bought this months ago,” he said, eyes never leaving yours. “I practiced speeches. Even wrote a dumb poem about it. Thought I’d have this perfect moment, you know? But today was anything but perfect.”

He laughed at himself, a soft, breathless sound. Then, his voice grew steadier. Lower. More serious.

“But I realized… I don’t care about perfect. I care about you. And I’d do this in a thunderstorm or while hanging from a helicopter if that’s what it took.”

He dropped to one knee, and suddenly the world around you fell completely silent.

Your breath caught.

His eyes were wide and shining, vulnerable in a way you’d only seen when he was really, truly open with you.

“I would chase down every wrong delivery, run across the city, fight a hundred angry husbands—hell, I’d go to the moon and back to bring you the stupidest plushie if it made you smile. Because you make my life feel like the best kind of chaos. The kind I want forever.”

He held the ring up to you with both hands, almost like an offering.

“Will you marry me?”

Tears welled in your eyes, heart thrumming wildly against your ribs.

And in that second, it didn’t matter that the cake was a disaster, or the flowers were half-dead, or that Haechan was still wearing mismatched socks.

Because here he was—yours, messy and beautiful and completely sincere.

“Yes,” you breathed, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Of course I will.”

He let out the loudest, happiest laugh—the kind that crinkled his whole face—before standing up and wrapping you in the tightest hug, spinning you around with such giddy energy you forgot your feet ever touched the ground.

Behind the glass door, a chorus of cheering exploded. You glanced back to see your friends pressed against the windows, jumping and shouting and slapping each other’s backs.

“HE IS ENGAGED!” Chenle screamed.

“Who’s baking the wedding cake?!” Jaemin yelled.

“I CALL BEST MAN!” Jisung cried, while Mark smacked him on the head.

But all you heard was Haechan’s voice, close to your ear, whispering:

“You just made me the happiest idiot on Earth.”

The penthouse had finally quieted.

After all the shouting, teasing, cake-smearing, and an impromptu dance battle that involved Jeno trying to moonwalk in socks and almost breaking a vase—everyone had left, or crashed in the guest rooms.

But Haechan stayed wide awake.

You found him in the living room after your shower, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a blanket around his shoulders, hair still slightly damp from when Jisung tried to pour soda over him "in celebration." He was scrolling through the photos from the day on his phone—zooming into your reactions, his friends’ dumb expressions, and a few blurry moments that somehow felt more special than the perfectly framed ones.

He looked up when you entered, and his face softened like it always did when it was just you two.

“Hey,” he murmured, holding his hand out to you.

You walked over, taking it, and he immediately tugged you into his lap, wrapping both arms around you tightly, like he needed to feel every part of this was real.

You leaned back against his chest, his heartbeat thudding steady and warm under your ear.

It was quiet. Safe.

After a long moment, he whispered, “You really said yes.”

You smiled softly, fingers tracing over the fabric of his shirt. “I really did.”

“Even after I showed up panting like a dog, with half a cake and flowers that looked like roadkill?”

You laughed, your head tilting to look at him. “Especially after that.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners, but they were glassy—emotions still high, the weight of the day slowly settling into him.

He pressed his lips against your temple, lingering there. “I wanted it to be perfect,” he said again, barely above a whisper. “I wanted everything to go right.”

“But it did,” you said, shifting to look at him fully now. “Because I got you at the end of it. A little sweaty, mildly traumatized, but still you.”

Haechan grinned, a breathy sound escaping him—part laugh, part disbelief.

“I think I love you more than I’m supposed to,” he said suddenly. “Like… dangerously. Like, I’d sell my liver on the black market if it meant getting you a second ring just to match the first.”

You snorted. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re marrying me,” he teased, eyes gleaming.

He brought your hand up to his lips and kissed the ring now resting there. Carefully. Reverently. Like it was a secret only you two shared.

After a long pause, he murmured, “I know I joke a lot. I mess up. I say dumb stuff all the time. But this…” His voice caught a little. “This is the most serious thing I’ve ever felt. I want to build something with you. A life. A forever. Even if we mess it up a little.”

You tilted his chin toward you, brushing your nose against his. “I don’t want perfect. I want you. Just like this.”

He kissed you—slow and full of everything he hadn’t been able to say with words. And when you pulled away, the grin returned, softer this time.

“Okay,” he said, tugging the blanket higher around both of you. “Then let’s mess up the world together.”

That night, you fell asleep curled into Haechan’s arms, your ring hand resting on his chest, the city lights painting lazy patterns on the ceiling. And for the first time in your life, the future didn’t feel like a question mark.

It felt like home.

BONUS:

☆ masterlist + notes. this one goes to my pretty @vanesycho my lovely birthday girl! hope you like it baby! i had so much fun writing it!!

★ @lyvhie @spacejip @zhapire @onriyuview @dinosaurtoothbrushwithninjasauce

[vanesycho]

dare I say best gift ever

I have a weakness for men who fall in love stupidly

and haechan is perfect for this idc

It was so much fun to read about this whole mess, it's all so cute and silly🥹

thank you so much again I love you🤍🤍😔

[jichandesuu]

it’s my wife’s birthday♡ @vanesycho

[vanesycho]

😭😭

love you so much🤍🤍🤍🤍

(⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠)⁠つ⁠⊂⁠(⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠)

[vanesycho]

I wanna eat out haechan for my birthday gift

[vanesycho]

MY V!!! YOU'RE BACK 😭😭😭😭

well I HOPE I'm back and won't go again lol

but I miss you so much😔 #yearningforyou

[vanesycho]

• bsf's dad!chan x f!reader | m.list

| It doesn't seem like a good idea to tease your friend's dad.

warning | smut(ofc), dirty talk, overstimulating, ruined orgasm

word count | 1,2k

from the moment your friend pushed you in front of him with a smile on her face and said "dad, she's the friend I told you about" you knew it wouldn't be your last time at this house. you briefly looked at the hand he extended to you and reached out the same. his hand, which was bigger than yours, tightly wrapped around yours "well, pleasure to meet you sweetheart"

and that was all. he rarely left his office for the rest of the day. so that's why you decided to go to him instead "um..if you want, i can take the coffee to him while you choose the movie." only you knew the desire to see him again behind the innocent eyes of yours "oh okay then" the cup in your hand brought a smile to your face, you soon found yourself in front of his office door and knocked.

after a while of silence, the door opened, chan raised his eyebrows in surprise when he saw you "oh- is there a problem young lady?" you briefly extended the coffee in your hand to him, your action made him smile sincerely, his narrowed eyes and the dimples you saw made you wet your dry lips. "wow, thank you, i really needed this actually."

at that moment, chan thought about how kind and ladylike you were, he loved that his daughter was making friends with such a nice person. the next time you came home, he always greeted you with a smile, not knowing the thoughts behind your gaze.

"oh fuck." said your friend "language." she rolled her eyes and mumbled "sorry dad— anyway i forgot to get the most important ingredient for the cake, i'll be right back." your gaze turned to him the moment she left the kitchen, he was at the kitchen counter, taking out the ingredients in the bags, you took the opportunity and stand up, approach him "you're someone to be proud of, you take care of your daughter all by yourself... but doesn't being alone get tiring?" chan stopped at the question directed to him and locked his eyes with yours "well...you get used to it, time flies when you're busy." he politely brushed it off, but that didn't end yet, your eyes began to scan him shamelessly from head to toe "i mean...you're a really nice looking guy. i'm surprised that you're not seeing someone." he pulled his eyes away from you with what he heard and cleared his throat, the tension on his face made your smile even bigger "thank you...but these are not things to talk about."

you knew it would be easy to tease him, you could see that he was trying to push himself back but his gaze, the change in his breathing gave it all away. he just didn't want to convince himself that he wanted you.

now, the face that greeted you with a smile when you came home had turned into a tense expression. he avoided being alone in the same place with you but you weren't going to give up, he understood that when you entered the room without knocking. "I would've preferred you knock on the door." the fact that he was still trying to sound distant made you laugh. you made sure to lean in close enough to him as you placed the coffee on the table. chan felt dizzy the moment he smelled your perfume, his eyes drifted to the open buttons of your shirt and down to your breasts, he let out a shaky breath "If you're really interested, I can show you more." he cursed under his breath. no, you were never the innocent and kind girl he thought you were. you were a young naughty girl who didn't know how to behave. and the first chance he got, he was going to show you what happened to naughty girls.

you had gotten him to the point you wanted him to be, so you decided to pay him another little visit. unannounced. the day your friend was out with her friends.

when chan opened the door, the person he saw while waiting for his daughter made him hold his breath for a moment, you went inside without waiting too long. the familiar scent of perfume made his head spin again as he closed the door behind him and followed you. your steps took you to his room "I assume you didn't come for my daughter." you raised your head towards him and tilted it slightly "right guess, she's with her other friends, what could I do...? I got bored so I thought I could at least see you, did I do good?"

he ran his tongue across his cheek angrily "you don't know how to behave yourself, do you?" he took a step towards you, hand gripping your arm tightly. his grip made you whine in pain at first, but he didn't stop. he kept walking until your foot hit the bed, losing your balance and falling backwards. you watched him as he leaned over you "I gave you plenty of time to stop didn't I? so what did you do? you ignored my warnings and did your own thing." you could tell how serious and angry he was. the coldness in his voice had literally given you goosebumps.

chan got up off you, so you propped yourself up on your elbows and looked at him. noticed his hands going down to his own pants "well then. you asked for it, you'll get it." after hearing that sentence, something inside you was awakened by how easy it was to get what you wanted.

but chan wasn't going to let you experience the pleasure fully.

a groan filled your ear as you beg "please..." but your begging only made him continue more "mm..what's that? wasn't you the one who wanted it? you worked so hard to get my cock in that tight little pussy didn't you? I'm giving you what you want." his big thick cock was filling your walls, your pussy was being destroyed with each hard thrust but you still hadn't come completely. "wanna..cum.." you weren't even sure If you were heard anymore because none of your pleas were working.

"you really think you deserve to cum? you horny naughty girl, shouldn't think there won't be any consequences for what you do." your legs were shaking, you were on the verge of tears from the sensitivity of your body.

chan felt himself close to cumming, his vocals increasing "fuck—" he was making sure you took the full length. your body started to tensed, felt close to cumming again " 'm close..wanna cum..fuck— please.."

chan held your hips tightly where you were sure there would be a mark "yes, fucking cum baby, you can cum on this cock yeah? c'mon, make me proud." after a few hard thrusts you finally came with a loud moan, then chan came on your stomach.

while you try to catch your breath, he leaned closer to your face and kissed your forehead "there you go. you better not test me again or it won't be good for you, understand?"

taglist:

[vanesycho]

Idk what the fuck I wrote just #squirtforhaechan

being friends with haechan wasn't as easy as it seemed. everything seemed normal and sarcastic in front of the others, but the moment the doors closed behind you, his hands would find your body. he would give you a small kiss on your neck and smile breefly as whipsering dirty things in your ear.

still, he couldn't stand seeing others around you, well.. no one else could touch his friend. he didn't believe anyone else could satisfy you as much as he did, he was the one who knew you and your body the best.

"oh are you gonna cum? should i let you? you were closer to jaehyun than you were today. do you really think he could satisfy you like this? you know this pussy was made just for this cock." his talking stopped being heard after a while, you didn't know how many times you came but haechan didn't seem to want to stop. he wouldn't stop until he was satisfied.

his favorite thing was to tease you in front of everyone. haechan is a total bastard. and he's proud to act like it.

while you were talking to yuta about something, you felt hands on your waist interrupting you "don't mind me, i just came to get my phone." he spoke while reaching for his phone, even though you tried to listen to yuta carefully at that moment, the hardness you felt on your ass made you take a deep breath. "you better finish talking and use that little mouth of yours for other things" he whispered in your ear, then slapped your hip a few times quickly. your gaze turned to him but he already left the room as if nothing happened.

he doesn't like to be distracted while playing games but if you do...that's when you better try not to pay attention to the cock inside you until the game is over.

"stay fucking still." he spoke while his fingers moved quickly on the keyboard. but you didn't know how much longer you could hold out, you were soaked, the fullness inside you was now reaching a level where it hurt "please.." you didn't know how much longer you had to beg but he didn't seem to care at all. on the contrary, he was trying to make you worse, he slightly moved his hips on the chair in order to fix his sitting position, causing a loud moan to come out of your mouth.

with the last round finished, he lowered his hands from the keyboard to your hips and rested them there for a while "fuck... i lost." he leaned his head back and closed his eyes in anger "fucking slut, you couldn't stop talking the whole game" the sentence he muttered to himself made you squirm in pain again, haechan let out a groan, then locked eyes with you "are you going to bother me again?" you shook your head quickly "n-no, no, please just...it hurts..i can't take it anymore" your eyes were filled with pain, the juices in your pussy were flowing from his cock, you were completely ruined. and this is instead of him feeling sorry for you, it was making him even more excited. a slight smile appeared on his face and he slapped your hips loudly "then you better start working those hips"

it doesn't matter to him where or when these things happen. if he wants it then, then it will happen.

you were leaning against the closed door, trying to keep your legs from shaking. you thought you were going to have a great time with johnny, mark and him but here you were. trying to hold back your moans as his fingers and tongue were relentlessly destroying your pussy "hyuck..." you had even lost the ability to talk. hand pulled his hair hard, make him moaned in pleasure against your pussy. you covered your mouth with your other hand to muffle your own voice but it was no use. his mouth was expertly sucking your clit, tongue thrusts made you arch your back, his two fingers were hitting your pleasure spot hard without a mercy.

you hadn't expected this to be the price you paid for just to get a drink of water. oh and if mark knew this right now, he would definitely never even set foot in his kitchen.