#jisung drabble

[studio-dreamie]

park jisung drabble

emo!park jisung x sunshine!reader

jisung was the type of guy who would show up to class and go straight to the back with no expression on his face. and once that bell rang, he was the first one to leave.

wired headphones would always be dangling out of his ears, across his shoulder was his overused grey messenger bag with holes from pencils and multicolored spiral notebooks that were battered and bruised, ready to fall out.

everyone thought he was a loner. i mean, come on, look at him. a random dude who would thrive during 2012 tumblr era. someone who never seemed to care about academics, consistently wearing all black, emo music blaring out of his headphones that people nearby could hear every lyric and chord.

so imagine the surprise when people saw you waiting for him outside the classroom one day. one of the sweetest girls on campus, always helping out with tutoring and extracurriculars, the complete opposite of him.

his face was in confusion as he walked up to the girl who was looking down and just playing with her fingers. "baby, what are you doing here, i usually pick you up," he said, interrupting her out of her daze. you instantly smiled, "hi jisung. i know. my class ended early so i wanted to pick you up this time" you said lightly poking at him. his expressionless face begins to fall as the corners of his lip can't help but rise, and a small blush arises on his cheeks.

jisung takes your hand in his as both of you start walking out of the building. ongoers tuning into the conversation, intrigued by the sight in front of them. "what was that song your played in the car last time, it's been stuck in my head" she asked looking up at him, "which one" he asks with a bit of a pout. "the one that goes like.." you start humming a familiar tune. "oh, time bomb by all time low" he answered. "oh my god! i know them, i used to wear one of their band shirts growing up," you said, jisung couldn't help but smirk and reply "damn if you still wore that, we would have gotten together a lot sooner,". you playfully hit him with your free hand, "shut up," you say with a smile.

the band shirt you wore was your older sister's. everyday, you thank god for your older sister's emo phase, because of that, you knew half the bands jisung always listened to on the drives together. jisung also thanks your sister, because if it wasn't for you saying you liked the linkin park song he was listening to that day you were tutoring him, he would have never been able to look up from his paper and notice the way your eyes beamed at him and that infectious smile that he has come to love.

and once people got a closer look, they noticed he was never that lonely after all. aside from all the damage it captures, on the side of his bag, there was a calico critter, perfectly intact. amongst all the silver necklaces he wore, there was one specific couples one with half a heart waiting to be attached to its other.

.

a/n: got the inspo for this from this tiktok

[studioeisa]

i love your writing !! 🥹 for the jealousy prompts, han and “i don’t blame them of course, but you’re mine”?

★ jisung x makeup artist!reader ┆ word count: 1.1k ┆ part of my closed jealousy drabble game.

ⓘ established/secret relationship, fluff.

There's a certain level of tenacity needed to survive dating an idol.

You've known this since day one, since the unassuming Tuesday afternoon where Jisung had shyly asked you if you wanted to make it official. In the industry, 'official' and 'public' were two completely different promises.

You're not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, though. You love Jisung. He loves you. That should be enough, right?

At least that's what you try to remind yourself as you steel yourself for another award show. It's the Asia Artist Awards this time, one of the bigger ones that Jisung has always admitted to having mixed feelings about.

For a celebrity, your boyfriend sure did have an aversion to crowds.

He's gotten good at masking it, at least. You watch from the wings as he glides down the red carpet with the rest of the band. Not a thing is out of place. His hair is flawless; his suit is pressed. Most importantly, his makeup is immaculate, although that's to be expected when the one doing your makeup is someone who knows your features well.

Jisung does everything that he has to. He puts on a photo-ready smile. He waves to fans, makes hearts with his hands for the cameras. When the boys step aside for interviews, he does that, too— slides in a wisecrack, nods in all the right places.

It's mesmerizing, seeing him put on a show, and it's a show that everybody eats right up.

"He's popular today," one of your fellow makeup artists notes with amusement.

You follow her gaze. She's right. The screams for Jisung's name are a little louder. The cameras flash brighter when he moves. Even the interviewer seems particularly enamored, laughing loudly at Jisung's quips and resting a casual hand on his shoulder.

The flash of annoyance that you feel is assuaged when Jisung takes an infinitesimal step away, feigning like he's leaning into Minho instead.

"He is," you finally respond in an even tone, even though the word doesn't quite encapsulate it.

Your boyfriend is more than popular. He's a goddamn star. Everybody can see it, and so everyone wants a piece of him.

Once the boys' five minutes of fame are over, they slink off to a secluded area for retouches. The atmosphere and the lights always call for quick touch ups. A little bit of blush there. A brush of powder here.

Immediately, your team descends on them. Each boy has an assigned artist. When you make your way to Jisung, the shift is palpable.

Blink and you'll miss it. Jisung goes from his idol persona to somebody tired, somebody drained from all the interaction, to someone who is looking at the love of his life. His eyes light up. His shoulders ease. The corners of his lips tug upward in a fond, giddy grin, and you can't help the way you smile as well.

"Hey, you," he breathes, years worth of affection packed in a simple greeting.

"Hi," you say back. "Your lip gloss is smudged."

He chuckles, as though he's amused you're going straight to business. There's not much room for you to be the couple that you want to be. Not when you're in a public place, when he's still got an entire show to sit through and a stage to perform.

The two of you have managed to strike a balance, find your happy middle. Jisung toed the line more often than not, but he knew better than to push the envelope when it was your careers on the line.

He stays still as you go to fix his gloss. He physically can't help but tease, though, his mouth moving against the pads of your fingers.

"You would know a thing or two about smudging my gloss," he mumbles, his voice low enough for just the two of you to hear.

You shoot him a glare. He throws you an exaggerated wink.

This is the Jisung that you knew, the Jisung behind the scenes. Cheerful despite his exhaustion. Awkward in his flirtation but never any less sincere.

You rummage through your kit for concealer. It's not unusual for the artists to be well-acquainted with the boys, and so small talk was typically accepted. Your voice is perfectly casual and conversational as you comment, "You're getting good reception today."

He doesn't miss a beat. "Yeah, well, maybe it's 'cause I have a good makeup artist."

Your lips twitch like you're holding back a smile. Jisung looks like he already won an award for the night at the mere sight of it.

"Just 'good'?" you tease, working on reapplying concealer under his eyes.

"Mmm," he hums. "Meant to say 'the best'."

Even though you give him an eye roll in response, the two of you know that you revel in his affirmation. It's why he's so generous in doling it out.

Jisung sounds like he's treading gently as he question, "You okay, though?"

You return his question with a distracted one of your own. "Why wouldn't I be?" you ask, still focused on smoothing out some of the blemishes around his nose.

There's a moment where Jisung contemplates whether he should go on. You can tell by the way his teeth briefly sink into his lower lip, the way his eyebrows furrow for a moment. His next words are calculated, careful.

"The 'good reception' thing," he says slowly. "Is that about all the— uh, fans?"

The question is vague, but you've known Jisung for long enough to know what he's implying. A part of you melts at how ready your boyfriend is to give you assurance, even if both of you are on the clock.

"I don't blame them, of course." Your own words are matter-of-fact as you step back to survey your handiwork. Voice still pitched for just the two of you, you go on, "But you're mine."

Jisung looks like you've struck him between the eyes. It draws a laugh out of you. You're never outwardly possessive, not the type to kick up a fuss over his thousands of adoring fans or fellow idols, and so it's a bit of a rare treat.

"I'm—" he starts so sputter. "You're—"

"Jisung-ah!"

Chan's distant call barely snaps Jisung out of his flustered state. You have to give your boyfriend a light shove, just to encourage him to get moving.

"Later," you say. A promise.

He doesn't respond immediately. It seems like his brain has stopped working, and when it boots up, he manages a panicked squeak of, "Later!"

Jisung stumbles off, nearly tripping on his own laces. You put your hand to your mouth to hold back your giggles.

He will have to go face everyone else with his cool and collected persona. He will have to go be HAN of Stray Kids, will have to rap and joke and perform.

But there is also a Jisung that you love, a Jisung that's yours, and it's enough. It's more than enough.

[zeroseuniverse]

Second Chances

Word Count: 689 Summary:Jisung didn’t chase after you. He let you go. And that, more than anything, hurt the most. Pairing: Jisung X Reader

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The night you confessed to Jisung, the sky was painted in hues of deep indigo, the stars barely visible against the glow of the streetlights. It had taken weeks—months, even—of debating, of overanalyzing every moment spent together, every glance, every lingering touch that made you think, Maybe he feels the same way.

But you had been wrong.

"I… I don’t feel the same way. I’m sorry."

You had smiled, even as your heart cracked, even as everything inside you screamed at how unfair it was. You nodded like it was fine, like your world wasn’t caving in, and walked away before he could see the tears threatening to spill.

Jisung didn’t chase after you. He let you go.

And that, more than anything, hurt the most.

Years Later

The scent of coffee and warm pastries fills the air, the hum of soft conversation creating a familiar background noise as you sit in the small café, scrolling through emails. It’s just another day, another mindless routine—until a voice you haven’t heard in years cuts through it all.

“you?”

You freeze.

Slowly, you glance up, and the world shifts beneath you.

Park Jisung stands just a few feet away, looking at you like he’s seen a ghost.

He’s taller now, broader, no longer the lanky boy you once knew. His jawline is sharper, his features more defined, but his eyes—the same warm brown that once felt like home—are unmistakable.

A rush of emotions—old heartbreak, nostalgia, resentment—threatens to drown you, but you push it down. You refuse to let him see how much he still affects you.

“Jisung.” You say his name like it’s just another word, like it doesn’t carry the weight of a thousand unspoken memories.

A flicker of something—regret, maybe—crosses his face. “I can’t believe it’s you.”

You glance at your watch, feigning indifference. “Well,it is. I should get going—”

“Wait.” His voice holds a quiet desperation, his hand twitching at his side like he wants to reach for you but knows he has no right. “Can we… talk?”

You should say no.

You should walk away, just like he did all those years ago.

But you don’t.

Instead, you inhale sharply, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “What is there to talk about, Jisung?”

He flinches, like he wasn’t expecting you to call him out so directly. “I—I just… I know it’s been years, but I—” He swallows hard. “I regret what happened. How things ended between us.”

You raise a brow, crossing your arms. “You mean when you rejected me and never spoke to me again?”

He winces, running a hand through his hair. “I was an idiot.”

You scoff. “I could’ve told you that.”

His lips curve into a sad smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I didn’t know what I was feeling back then. I thought I was protecting you. Protecting our friendship.” He lets out a quiet laugh, bitter and self-deprecating. “Turns out, I just ruined everything.”

You watch him for a long moment, your heart warring between anger and something dangerously close to sympathy.

“What do you want, Jisung?” You finally ask, your voice quieter now.

He hesitates, shifting on his feet like he’s debating how honest to be. And then—

“You.”

The single word hangs in the air between you, heavy with years of regret, of missed chances.

Your breath catches. “Jisung…”

“I know I don’t deserve a second chance,” he says, stepping closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “I know I hurt you. And if you tell me to walk away right now, I will.” His voice is softer now, almost pleading. “But if there’s even a small part of you that still cares… I want to make things right.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, your carefully built walls trembling.

Because despite everything, despite the years and the pain, you had never quite stopped wondering—what if?

Maybe this time, it’s his turn to fight for you.

And maybe this time, you’ll let him.

[fatalhoon]

— [ 1:08 am ]

w.c 2.4k

jisung x reader , tooth rotting fluff

alcohol consumption, kissing, lots of blushing and giggles

in the beginning of your relationship with jisung, it was admittedly a bit difficult to show affection towards each other in the presence of others, especially your shared friends.

in fact, it was those friends who had to force the both of you to make any moves in the first place, which was no easy task in itself. you and jisung were both extremely shy individuals, and despite your huge crushes on one another, you had convinced yourselves that it was ultimately better to admire from afar in order to stay safe from the humiliation of rejection.

after the initial meeting orchestrated by haechan where you’d painfully awkwardly confessed your mutual feelings, you'd danced around each other for a few days, sending only shy smiles and waves to one other. a little while later, you’d finally mustered up enough courage with the help of jaemin to ask jisung out on a date. a heavy blush colored his cheeks, and he agreed through a very cute, nervous grin. a week passed and he’d asked you on a second, you the third, and eventually, you became a couple. the whole world (your friends) rejoiced.

a few weeks in jisung asked if he could hold your hand, and though both your palms were practically trembling and you couldn’t bring yourselves to look directly at each other due to your extremely red faces, your fingers fit together perfectly and your heart felt warm and fluttery. not too long after, you had to assure jisung that it was okay for him to sit on your bed the first time he’d visited your bedroom (and again, when you told him you didn't just mean the edge of the bed.) it took a while for you to act like a couple, or at least a “traditional” one; you just had to work at your own pace.

four months later and its mark’s birthday party; a huge gathering with tons of people and very loud music that made the area humid and the bass rumble up through your legs. you and jisung had arrived together, mingling with mutual friends mixed with a few new faces, and although it was a good time, jisung noticed how your fingers gripped his arm a little tighter than usual and how your breath shook when you pressed yourself up against him in the crowded space. quickly escorting you outside for some fresh air, he suggested a quiet night in instead, and though you apologized for stealing him away from his hyung’s celebration, the shake of his head and his kind smile told you there was no need.

so now you sit back at the dream dorm together alone, really alone, for the first time. though you know your friends truly do mean well, the lighthearted teasing and cutesy cheek squishing every time you and jisung did something “adorable” wasn’t exactly the best for breaking you out of your shells. with no prying eyes trying to witness every milestone of the budding relationship of the groups resident youngest, a sort of weight is lifted from your shoulders and the atmosphere feels refreshing.

“jisungieee,” you impatiently call out to your boyfriend in a sing-songy cadence, leaning your heavy head against the back of the sofa, rubbing at your eyes with a pair of clumsy hands. the bottle of sparkly pink wine (of which neither of you knew exactly who it belonged to, but made a mental note to buy a new one later) you both shared has undoubtedly started to take a toll on you, and by the sound of it, it’s done the same to jisung.

“yeeees?” he mimics your tone, albeit an octave lower, as he shuffles back in from the kitchen, carrying a box of crackers and two bottles of water under one arm and shoving a handful of said crackers in his mouth with the other. you shift around to watch him giggle cutely as he almost trips over his own feet, dropping everything clumsily onto the couch and climbing over the arm rest to plop down beside you. he snuggles down into the cushion, draping the shared blanket over his pajama clad legs.

jisung doesn't notice as you lay your head back again and blatantly admire him. maybe its the alcohol that’s made you confident enough to do so, but you can’t bring yourself to help it. your eyes trace the side profile of his face, admiring the way his lips pout a little as he chews his snack and how his tousled hair bunches up on his forehead when he lifts a hand to push his glasses up the bridge of his cute little nose. for what feels like the thousandth time you lose yourself in thoughts of just how beautiful he is, and question just how you landed yourself in the sweetest relationship with the sweetest boy. your friends are annoying for sure, but you guess you do have them to thank for the best thing thats ever happened to you.

jisung cracks open one of the bottles and tilts his head back to take a drink. just as he takes notice of your stillness and looks over at you, his cheeks puffed up water, you snap your head forward, a small knowing smile on your lips and a heat on your cheeks. you don't see it, but jisung’s face mirrors yours as he screws the cap back on.

“your turn, pretty boy,” falls quickly and quietly from your lips and you drop the controller on his leg, nodding towards the tv screen in front of you thats lit up with bright colors and blaring the upbeat music of the low budget party game you both decided to play. it takes jisung a second to take in what you said but when he does it seems like he’s momentarily forgotten how to breathe. he sputters just a bit from the sharp intake of air that betrayed him, instinctively burying his face in the collar of his hoodie to cough up the bit of water that went into his lungs, and he looks at you.

“hmmf?” he mumbles out a muffled noise of confusion.

“what?” you ask, tilting your head. you hear him swallow nervously as he stares at you like a deer caught in headlights. the words had fallen past your lips before you could stop them, and you had almost forgotten you'd even said them as you hadn’t even really expected his ears to catch it. you nearly backtrack, worried that you made him uncomfortable, but you see his cheeks flush pink above where his collar sits just below his nose, and his eyes are so soft as they scan your face. the liquid courage you drank pulses through you again. you meant it, so why take it back?

you give him a small lopsided grin. you reach up to gently grab his hands and pull them down to bring his whole face back into view.

“pretty,” you say sweetly. “you’re my pretty boy.”

jisung’s mind stutters for a moment. his eyes are slightly cloudy, big and brown and as sweet as a doe, and you see the telltale hint of a smile.

you mindlessly twist the strings of his hoodie around your fingers, so lost in the moment you almost forget where you are. jisung’s head feels heavy and he doesn’t realize that he's leaning forward until he catches himself with two hands on either side of your lap, making both of you flinch a bit in surprise. you breathe out a shy laugh in tandem, a small ‘sorry’ falling from his lips. as you feel his hands grip softly around the blanket at your sides, yours find themselves pressed to his chest below his collarbone, and you take notice of the way you can feel how fast his heart is beating even above his chest.

you’re so close to each other, and you're not exactly strangers to the proximity, but there’s an energy buzzing around you like it never quite has before.

“can i kiss you?” jisung asks just barely above a whisper, as if he hadn't almost just done so accidentally.

you nod your head. he leans in further, slowly, the ghost of his lips brushing ever so gently against yours. the rapid beating of your own pulse in your ears nearly deafens you, and right now you're so unabashedly unaware of everything that isn't jisung. a small peck here and there is the most you've shared up to this point, but in this moment your mouths are slightly open, eyes locked on each other, rose wine tinted breath heavy and hazy in anticipation for the moment that you meet in the middle.

you both jump at the sudden clatter of the controller from your game long forgotten falling to the floor, the movement of the joystick lighting the muted screen again and making the music louder. you let out a squeak, your hands flying up to grab jisung by his shoulders while his immediately find your waist. your noses knock together and you let out a surprised noise at the same time. a beat of silence passes, and after realizing what happened, a spell of nervous drunken laughter simmers between you.

jisung takes in upon himself to rest his forehead against yours, and your arms find their way further around his frame to rest at the back of his neck and pull him closer into you. you sway softly side to side with the weight of each other, intoxicated giggles still bubbling in your chests and you feel a little more relaxed holding onto one another.

feeling the heat of the moment overwhelming you, you can’t help but to grip the base of jisung’s neck and tug him forward and capture his lips in a kiss. his breath falters for a fleeting second, fingers gripping your hips just a little tighter. you chuckle on his mouth, pulling back just enough to disconnect and you can feel his heart sprinting in his chest the same as yours.

jisung swallows the tension in his throat. he rests his forehead on yours again, his breath shaking with nerves. when one of your hands glides up into his hair, carding through the strands with a featherlike touch, he sighs dreamily, just a small puff of soft hair that hits your wet lips. he relaxes enough to let himself reach up to cup your jaw, tilting your face to kiss you at a deeper angle. its your turn to be caught off guard; your lips fit together in a way that immediately makes your head spin with full bliss, completely entranced in the feeling of him pressed against you and your lips moving in sync.

“yaahh!! cute!!”

at the sound of chenle’s voice breaking through the atmosphere your heart makes a monstrous leap that has you pulling back from your boyfriend and diving in to hide your face in his chest. equally embarrassed, jisung grabs the blanket and flings it up to cover the both of you. you can hear the bustle of your inebriated friends arriving back home from the party and chenle gushing about what he’d just witnessed, a chorus of equally excited hoots following behind him.

there's just enough dim light leaking through the threads of the blanket to see jisung’s face, still only inches from yours. he's flustered, you can tell, but his smile is so loving you could almost forget the embarrassment flooding through your body. he presses another bold kiss to your lips.

“we’ll never live this down,” jisung groans quietly.

“how do we get out of here?” you ask honestly, knowing that your friends will all have their cameras ready to capture your guilty faces.

an idea seems to pop into jisung's head just then.

“how well do you think we can make it to my room without being able to see?”

he gives no explanation as he’s pulling you onto your clumsy feet and tugging you into his side with a protective arm around your shoulders, but you catch on quickly as he urges you to start walking with the blanket still cloaked over the both of your heads. you stumble so awkwardly across the living room in a trek to jisung’s bedroom that its impossible to even attempt a straight line, boisterous laughter emitting from the both of you as you nearly crumple under each other’s weight more than a few times. you practically knock into every square inch of wall down the hallway and upon finally reaching his door you all but tumble inside.

jisung slams the door closed and locks it behind him, letting your shield of a blanket fall to rest on his shoulders. he leans against it and lets out a heavy sigh, comically wiping sweat from his forehead with a “whew!” you look at each other, giggling at the way your hair is mussed up and your faces are flushed in the light from the street lamp peeking in from the curtains. you let yourself fall against him, wrapping your arms snugly around his waist. he grins, leaning down to press a series of ticklish kisses against the side of your neck, making your face scrunch up in laughter.

“i think they're finally asleep,” jeno whispers to the group a short while later, pressing his ear against the door and listening for any sounds.

it takes half of the boys to figure out how to open the door, but when they do, what meets their eyes makes all six of them melt and they have to physically stop themselves from making a scene.

you and jisung fell into a deep sleep, your chests rising and falling with steady parallel breaths. you’re wearing his shirt and a pair of his flannel pants, snuggled up into his side, head nestled in the crook of his neck and a leg draped across his waist. jisung's arms wrap around your torso, his head resting on top of yours, his cheek squished up against your hair.

“ohhh, they’re gonna hate us,” renjun chuckles evilly, creeping forward to snap several pictures at multiple angles.

the group chat in the morning is surely a mess.

[niki-phoria]

METAL MOUTH

pairing: jisung x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff word count: 639

includes: reader has lip piercings (implied to be snake bites), nervous jisung, not proofread and i don't have any facial piercings so pls forgive any mistakes !!

summary: jisung likes your piercings - maybe just a little more than he likes you.

jisung is staring at you. you can feel it. his gaze never leaves your face as he watches you carefully adjust the thin metal rings piercing through your skin through your bathroom mirror. 

wide eyes meet your own when you turn around to face him, softly chuckling at the way the boy startles. “what?” you playfully cock your head at him; a smirk tugs at the corners of your lips. “is there something on my face?” 

“no,” jisung replies, softly shaking his head. he slips fully into the room, letting the door quietly shut behind him. despite now being face to face, jisung’s gaze still lingers on your lips for just a few seconds too long to be totally platonic.

hesitantly, he raises a hand up until his fingertips are mere centimeters away from the metal. “what do they feel like?” he finally murmurs after a period of silence. 

“i’ve had them for so long they just feel normal to me,” you shrug. “i only really notice them when other people bring them up - or when i’m doing something near my mouth, like brushing my teeth or something.” 

“i guess that makes sense," jisung hums. you ignore the disappointment that courses through you when he lets his hand return to his side - widening the space between you once again. "did they hurt?”

“not much,” you shrug. “cleaning them everyday was a pain, though.”

“sometimes i fall asleep without taking my makeup off,” he chuckles. “i don’t think i’d be able to handle the upkeep.”

“you get used to it,” you smile. “have you ever thought about getting any yourself?”

“sometimes. never seriously though.” 

you nod in acknowledgement, leaning back against the bathroom counter. in the momentary silence, jisung finds himself staring at your lips once again - more specifically at the thin rings looped around your mouth.

“you look really nice.” the words escape his mouth before he realizes what they are. you softly smile at him as his face flushes a bright red; jisung’s mind races to come up with an excuse. “your piercings - i mean.” 

“so you don’t think i look nice?” you tease.

jisung bites his bottom lip. “of course you do,” he finally murmurs. “do they affect kissing?”

you freeze. wide eyes meet your own before jisung quickly takes a small step backwards away from you. he stares down at his feet with overly flushed cheeks. 

excuses fall from his lips in waves before you take a step closer, limiting the space between you once again. jisung pauses when you reach up to cup his cheek with your hand. “i’m not sure,” you murmur. there’s a beat of silence before you speak again. “...i’ve never kissed anyone before.”

“do you want to?” his voice is so quiet you almost miss it entirely. the feeling of your heart beating so rapidly in your chest is almost overwhelming. 

“yeah,” you finally whisper. “i’d like that.” 

your eyes flutter closed as jisung slowly begins to lean in. your breath hitches in your throat from the anticipation before he finally presses his lips against yours. 

jisung’s lips are soft - softer than yours. your bodies move in an unconscious rhythm as you slowly continue to limit the amount of space between you. his touch is gentle as he rests his hands on your waist; your arms snake around his neck, just barely beginning to tangle into his hair.

you only pull away when the lack of air begins scratching at your lungs. you’re all but panting as jisung leans in, resting his forehead against your own. “so?” you whisper with a shy smile. “how does it feel to kiss someone with piercings?”

“it’s better,” he breathlessly chuckles. “way better.”

your rebuttal dies on the tip of your tongue when jisung leans in, pressing his lips against your own once again. 

if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, consider checking out my nct dream masterlist <3

[iknow-youknow-hyunho]

🌌🌫️🌌🌫️🌌🌫️🌌🌫️🌌🌫️🌌🌫️🌌🌫️🌌🌫️🌌🌫️

minho's eyes were beautiful in the same way black holes were: dark, and vast, and made you afraid to get too close for fear you might be sucked too far in to ever escape. still, there were constellations sprinkled across them; something sparkly and horribly inviting. deceptively safe. made it impossible to stay away.

jisung's eyes shone in a different way. it was like they were full of clouds, in that they could also make you leave the ground; you'd find yourself floating if you looked into them too long. but somehow you knew there'd be a safe, soft place to land still, something to cushion your fall if you flew too high.

both made it hard to breathe, in their own exhilarating way.

sometimes jisung couldn't breathe in a bad way, when the air got too thin in his head. he'd inhale only flat air and minho would have to remind him how to take deep breaths.

when jisung felt too sensitive – when the clouds thinned and the sun attempted to burn his eyes – minho was there with the galaxy, his endless night. a cover of safety. a velvet blanket dotted with diamonds, blocking out the harsh light. a darkness in which he would let nothing get to jisung, always by his side.

jisung thought that black holes were misunderstood sometimes. he thought that they could be a beautiful place, one you didn't want to escape.

and nowadays he and minho could get lost in each other easily without being afraid. it wasn't something they'd expected, or planned.

but why fear falling when you already have?

🌌🌫️🌌🌫️🌌🌫️🌌🌫️🌌🌫️🌌🌫️🌌🌫️🌌🌫️🌌🌫️

A/N: I wrote this after seeing that picture of Jisung, and my brain just instantly went: head in the clouds. I need to write him a million love poems. Turned into a Minsung drabble instead. <3 hope u enjoyed.

[skzophreniic]

⍣ ೋ cw: explicit sexual content, neighbors to lovers, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), reader first orgasm, soft dom Han Jisung, emotional vulnerability, praise kink, mention of toxic relationship, slight exhibitionism (thin walls), slight degradation of ex-boyfriend, aftercare, fluff, soft angst (parental neglect), mdni

notes: in which han jisung hears you faking your orgasms through the walls of your apartment--and things spiral from there.

The walls in this building are a joke.

Half an inch of drywall. That’s all that separates his shitty one-bedroom from yours. He’s counted.

It’s not like he meant to know so much about you. He’s not trying to eavesdrop on every late-night argument, every hungover FaceTime call, every time you drag your heavy Econ textbook across the floor.

He just lives here.

And unfortunately, so do you.

Jisung never asked for the proximity. He never asked to know the way your voice rises when you're tipsy or how you only sing when you thinks no one can hear. But he does. He knows. He knows you eat too many frozen waffles and tha tyour microwave beeps twice before you remember to take shit out. He knows the name of your boyfriend, the sound of your laugh when you’re trying too hard, and worse—

The exact pitch of your moans when you’re faking it.

Because you fake it. Every damn time.

And he would know. He’s had the misfortune of being hard at 2AM with your paper-thin walls pressed against his back and that sorry excuse for sex filtering through his second-hand studio monitors like a mockery of porn.

It’s always the same: breathy gasps, your boyfriend’s awkward grunting, the bed springs squeaking like hell, and then—

“Oh my god, yeah, just like that...”

Flat. Perfunctory. The kind of moan that sounds practiced. Rehearsed. Completely unconvincing.

Jisung rolls his eyes and turns the volume up on his mix.

Not because it bothers him. Not because he cares.

It’s just distracting.

He’s got better things to do than think about the pretty girl next door faking orgasms like it’s a part-time job.

Like finish this track. Like land an actual gig. Like figure out how the fuck he’s going to keep affording rent in a city that eats people alive and doesn’t even burp after.

He’s not interested.

He’s not.

Except—

Sometimes he wonders what it would sound like if you meant it.

What you’d sound like if someone took their time. If someone made you come for real, dragged it out of your with fingers in your hair and lips on your neck and the kind of steady, brutal rhythm that doesn’t stop until you’re shaking.

What you’d sound like if it were him.

Jisung curses under his breath and drags his headphones off.

His eyes are dry. His dick’s half-hard. His track’s going nowhere.

Cool.

Maybe he just needs to… do something. Anything. Something mundane. Something that reminds him he’s a functioning adult with a trash bin and a spine and better things to focus on than the soft moans of the girl next door and the way they don’t sound quite right.

He grabs the overstuffed trash bag by the door, ties it with too much force, and makes a beeline for the hallway before he can talk himself out of it.

The fluorescent lights hum. The elevator’s broken again. Everything smells vaguely like burnt toast and someone’s fruity shampoo.

This building is hell.

He loves it.

Jisung drops the bag down the chute, lingers a second too long just to feel the rush of cold air against his face, then heads back.

He’s barely two doors away from home when he sees you.

You’re standing outside your apartment, arms crossed over your chest, loose sweatshirt slipping off one shoulder like it’s been a long night. Your boyfriend—Jason? Jared? Justin?—is leaning in too close, his mouth moving fast. Jisung can’t make out the words, but the tone’s familiar. Sharp. Defensive.

The boyfriend tries to kiss you.

You turn your face away.

Jisung doesn’t mean to stop walking. His feet just… do.

“I said I’m tired,” you mutter.

“Oh, you’re tired?” the guy snaps, way too loud for this dingy little hallway. “You weren’t tired twenty minutes ago when you were riding my dick, were you?”

Jesus.

Jisung should keep walking. Should disappear into his apartment and mind his business like he always does.

But instead, he just—

“Hey.”

His voice comes out cracked around the edges, like it hasn’t been used in a while. Which is accurate. He hasn’t really spoken to anyone in three days. Not unless you count the talking he does into the mic when he’s laying down verses at 3AM.

You both turn to look at him.

Jisung tries to smile.

It’s more of a grimace.

“You, uh…” he clears his throat, glancing at you instead of the walking ego next to you. “You okay?”

You hesitate.

The boyfriend doesn’t.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Jisung shoves his hands deeper into his hoodie pocket. “Neighbor.”

The guy blinks, then laughs. “Oh. So you’re the one blasting that emo SoundCloud shit through the wall every night?”

Jisung winces. A breath stutters out of him like he’s been lightly slapped.

Then he notices it—you wince, too. The tiniest flicker of guilt flashing across your face, so fast he almost misses it.

And yeah. Okay.

That stings more than it should.

“I didn’t say it was shit,”you mumble under your breath, clearly meant only for your own conscience.

“Don’t worry,” Jisung says quickly, forcing a light tone as he scratches the back of his neck. “It’s fine. Totally fair. Some of my stuff is… uh. Kinda dogshit.”

The boyfriend grins like he’s just won something.

“Glad we agree. Thought I was gonna have to explain how sound works to a wannabe DJ.”

Jisung opens his mouth—then closes it again.

Not worth it.

Definitely not worth it.

Except you’re still looking at him. Still standing there with your arms folded tight, sweatshirt slipping down further. And your face—

There’s something in it. Not pity. Not sympathy.

More like… regret.

He hates that it softens him.

The boyfriend, oblivious, barrels on. “Anyway, next time you feel like giving a concert at four in the morning, maybe wait until someone asks.”

“Next time you feel like giving headboard percussion lessons at two,” Jisung mutters, “maybe make sure she actually comes.”

The words leave his mouth before his brain catches up.

Instant silence.

You gasp. Cover it with your hand, like you’re trying not to laugh—or scream.

The boyfriend just stares at him.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

Jisung shrugs, already stepping toward his apartment door. His hands are shaking a little, but he keeps his voice light.

“I mean, the moaning’s impressive. Real Oscar-worthy shit. But you’d think a guy who talks that much would at least know when he’s not doing it right.”

“You little—”

“Hey, man.” Jisung turns back for half a second, nodding at him with a crooked, tired smile. “If I can tell through the wall that she’s faking it, that’s not on her. That’s on you.”

He shuts the door behind him before the guy can even finish winding up his insult.

Click.

Deadbolt.

Silence.

Except for the thundering in his chest.

Jisung exhales hard, forehead thunking against the door. “What the fuck did I just do?”

He sinks down to the floor like his legs have given up. Which, to be fair, they kind of have.

This isn’t him. This isn’t what he does.

He doesn't talk back. Doesn’t mouth off. Doesn’t insert himself into other people’s messy lives—especially not yours. He barely speaks to delivery guys. Half his social life happens through a pop filter.

And yet.

“You’d think a guy who talks that much would at least know when he’s not doing it right.”

God. It was kind of funny.

But still—Jesus.

Jisung scrubs both hands over his face, embarrassment curling in his gut like a hangover.

Across the wall, he hears footsteps. Muffled shouting. The boyfriend’s voice, sharp with wounded ego. And then—

The unmistakable slam of a door.

Silence.

No more voices. No more fake moans. No more anything.

Jisung doesn’t move.

Eventually, when the silence stays long enough to feel safe, he hauls himself up off the floor. Brushes dust from his sweats. Tries not to replay what he said out loud like a greatest hits compilation of shit he absolutely should not have said out loud.

____________________________________________________________________________

He sleeps like shit.

Of course he does.

And when morning comes, it hits in a wave of cheap sunlight and neighborly noise.

He hears your usual routine unfold with near-perfect familiarity: fridge door opening, kettle clicking on, cabinet slam (twice—you always forget which one holds the instant coffee). Muffled cursing. Zipper. Then keys jingling against the lock.

He listens as you step out, lets the door fall shut behind you, and walks down the hall toward the stairs.

Everything is the same.

And none of it is.

Because this time, when you leave,your footsteps pause right outside his door.

Just for a second. A breath.

Then gone.

He groans and pulls the blanket over his face.

The rest of the day moves in its usual haze. Jisung does what he always does: noodles with a half-finished beat, eats instant ramen over the sink, ignores three texts from Chan asking for an update on the mix. His headphones stay around his neck most of the day, never quite getting used.

By sunset, the hallway is quiet again.

The beat he’s working on is shit. He knows it’s shit. He keeps tweaking it anyway.

It’s not even music anymore. Just sound. A bunch of clunky, disjointed loops that won’t glue together no matter how many times he messes with the tempo.

He’s just about to scrap the whole thing when—

Knock knock.

He freezes.

It’s soft. Measured. Hesitant.

He doesn't move right away—just sits there in his desk chair like someone just rang the doorbell in a horror movie. Then he leans back slightly, just far enough to peek over the edge of his laptop.

Another knock.

His heart does something stupid.

He stands. Pads barefoot to the door. Checks the peephole.

Of course it’s you.

You’re standing there in leggings and an oversized hoodie, arms cradling a plastic container like its armor. Your hair's pulled back, face bare. You look—

Small.

Unsure.

You lift one hand and knock again, even softer this time.

He hesitates a second longer, then opens the door.

Not all the way. Just a crack.

Your head jerks up. You blink. “Hi.”

He blinks back. “Uh. Hey.”

You shift your weight. “Can I—uh, are you busy?”

He opens the door a little wider, eyes flicking down to the container you’re holding. “No. I mean. Just… failing at music.”

That gets the faintest smile out of you.

“Right. Yeah. I, um…” You hold out the container. “These are for you.”

He stares. “Cookies?”

“Apology cookies.”

There’s a beat.

Then:

“I didn’t bake them,” You admit. “But I did walk two blocks to the overpriced organic place to get them. So. Effort was made.”

He blinks down at the container again, like it might disappear if he stares hard enough.

“Effort noted,” he mumbles.

You shift again, hugging your arms tighter. “You don’t have to eat them. I just—felt weird not saying thank you. Or sorry. You didn’t have to do what you did last night.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, well. Felt weird not saying something. So.”

You stand there in the doorway for a second, both of you clearly unsure of what to do now that the thing you came to say has been said. He should probably invite you in. Or take the cookies. Or smile, or make a joke, or something.

Instead, he clears his throat.

You jump in to fill the silence. “Also, just so we’re clear—I didn’t actually mean the SoundCloud thing. That was… low-hanging fruit.”

He raises an eyebrow. “So you’ve listened?”

That earns him a flush, bright and instant. “Not on purpose.”

“Wow.” He presses a hand to his chest. “What a glowing endorsement.”

“I’m just saying—I wasn’t trying to be a bitch. That wasn’t fair.” Your gaze softens. “Your stuff is good. Better than good, actually. The one with the—uh—strings and that lo-fi beat underneath?”

His eyebrows raise. “Track twelve?”

She nods.

His stomach flips. It’s ridiculous. But that track had been sitting unfinished for weeks, like something he wasn’t sure anyone but him would ever care about. And now she’s standing here—face bare, voice quiet—quoting it back to him like it meant something.

He doesn’t know what to say.

For someone who spends hours arranging syllables and syncopation for fun, it’s laughable how words immediately bail on him when they might actually matter.

“You, uh…” He shifts the container to one hand. “You’ve got a good ear.”

You smile. It’s small. A little sheepish. “I’ve got shit walls.”

That makes him laugh—quiet and surprised.

“I should let you hear more sometime,” he says, before he can talk himself out of it.

You tilt your head. “Yeah?”

“I mean—only if you want to. No pressure. I just thought…”

He trails off, scratching at the seam of his sleeve.

“I’d like that,” You say.

And he doesn’t know what to do with the warmth that blooms in his chest. It’s not huge. It’s not loud. But it’s there—steady and unexpected, curling under his ribs.

“Cool,” he says, voice softer now. “I’ll, uh. Let you know next time I make something new.”

You nod, then shift your weight backward—just enough to start retreating. But not before your eyes flick to his again, briefly, like you want to say something else.

He thinks might.

But all you do is smile—small and real—and take one step back towards your door.

“Goodnight, Han.”

His name on your lips feels like something it shouldn’t. Like a secret.

He nods. “Night.”

And then you turn. Cross the narrow hallway back to your apartment, keys already in hand. you hesitate at the door for half a second—he notices that, because of course he notices that—then slides the key in, disappears inside, and lets the door fall shut behind you with a soft click.

He watches the empty hallway for a beat longer.

He stares at his own door for a moment after he closes it, forehead pressed against the wood like the words you left behind are still floating in the air.

Goodnight, Han.

He hadn’t realized how nice his name could sound until you said it like that.

It echoes in his chest. Warms something that’s been cold for a while.

When he finally moves, it’s slow. He sets the cookies on the kitchen counter, grabs a pen, and flips open the nearest notebook—one he’s barely touched in weeks.

And he writes:

Track idea: starts quiet. Voice sample, maybe hers? Lo-fi beat behind it, soft keys. Let it build. Don’t let it rush. Let it breathe.

He underlines let it breathe three times.

Then he puts his headphones on.

And for the first time in a long time—

The music comes easy.

______________________________________________________________

You never planned on being friends with Han.

The boy next door with the quiet mouth and loud headphones. The recluse who only seemed to exist in studio beats and half-heard melodies through the wall. You knew his name before you knew his face—Han, printed on a mailbox slot too narrow.

Now he nods at you in the hallway. Smiles, even. You’ve learned that they’re rare, his smiles���crooked and shy, like they’re still trying to figure themselves out. You’ve started waiting for them.

Some mornings, you catch him in the elevator, hoodie pulled over messy hair, a takeout coffee in one hand and sleep in his eyes. You say hi. He says hey. He always holds the door for you.

It’s nothing. But it’s not nothing.

And then, one night—it’s something.

It starts with your friend’s voice, high and nervous. “I swear I had your keys. I swear they were just—fuck, okay, check your bag again—”

You’re too drunk to care. Or think. Or stand up straight

Your bag is wide open on the hallway floor, a war zone of receipts, gum wrappers, lip glosses with no caps, and an unopened pack of hot sauce packets you swear you didn’t steal from Taco Bell. Your friend is crouched beside it, frantically digging like she’s searching for buried treasure.

And that’s when the elevator dings.

You don’t even bother turning around. You’re too busy trying to balance one heel on top of a rogue pack of gum like it’s a tightrope.

Your friend, however, freezes. Then straightens sharply, whisper-hissing, “Oh shit—it’s your neighbor.”

You blink. “Which one?”

“The hot one.”

That gets your attention.

You turn—wobble—and there he is: Han. Grocery bag in one hand, hood halfway off, hair a little windblown. His eyes flick from your friend to you, then to the scene at your feet: your life in full chaotic display.

He pauses. Then says, with the softest little blink of disbelief,

“Uh… everything okay?”

You blink right back at him.

Then lean toward your friend—not subtly, not gracefully, and definitely not quietly—and whisper at full volume:

“You’re right, he is hot.”

It echoes.

Down the hall. Into the vents. Probably into the next dimension.

Your friend claps a hand over her mouth.

Han stares at you, frozen mid-step, grocery bag dangling like it no longer belongs to him.

You sway slightly. Flash him a winning, drunken grin. “Hi.”

His ears go pink.

He recovers with a cough and a quiet, “Hey.”

Your friend steps in, trying to salvage the moment. “She, um… lost her keys. And maybe her filter. And maybe also her last three brain cells.”

“I have at least five brain cells,” you argue, eyes still locked on Han like you’ve just spotted the last bottle of tequila on Earth. “Maybe six.”

“Okay,” your friend says sharply, grabbing your arm before you can say anything worse. “She’s drunk. She needs to sleep. You’re right next door. I trust you, I think. Will you—can you—?”

“I’ve got her,” Han says, voice gentle. Too gentle. Like he’s trying not to laugh but also trying not to die of second-hand embaressment.

He steps forward, freeing his hand long enough to steady you when you stumble again. His grip is warm, careful. You immediately lean into it like he’s a weighted blanket.

“Wow,” you murmur. “Strong and polite. A dangerous combo.”

He just smiles—shy and crooked, the way he always does when he doesn’t know where to put his face. “You good to walk?”

“No promises.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘maybe,’” he says, easing your arm over his shoulder.

Your friend sighs, already backing toward the stairs. “If she tries to seduce you, just tell her she cries at Disney movies and once got drunk and tried to fistfight a traffic cone.”

“I won, though,” you shout after her.

Han chuckles.

Your friend throws one last suspicious look over her shoulder, mouthing to Han, text me from her phone if she throws up, before disappearing down the stairwell.

And now it’s just you and Han.

And the heat of your skin pressed to his side.

And the wild, buzzing thought in your brain that you’ve never been this close to him before.

He shifts his weight. Glances down at you.

“You seriously okay?”

You nod. “I feel great.”

“You say that while using me as a crutch.”

“Yeah. But like—a sexy crutch.”

He laughs, head ducking slightly like he’s embarrassed for both of you.

But he doesn’t let go.

And he doesn’t stop smiling.

Han’s arm stays steady around you as he unlocks his door, grocery bag still dangling awkwardly from one wrist. He guides you inside carefully, flicking on the lights with his elbow and nudging the door shut behind you.

You blink, taking it in through a haze: tiny apartment, warm lighting, a bunch of wires and gear by the desk, no couch in sight.

He catches you swaying and steers you toward a plain padded chair by the wall. “Here, sit for a sec.”

You plop down like a ragdoll.

Han crouches in front of you instantly, gently tugging your heels off one at a time like he’s afraid you’ll tip over trying. “You good?” he murmurs, setting your shoes aside neatly. “Anything feel weird? Dizzy?”

You grin at him. “You’re so worried.”

He flushes instantly. “I just—yeah. I mean. You’re really drunk.”

“Yeah, but like, in a fun way.”

“Still,” he mutters, already handing you a bottle of water from the counter. “Drink this. Slowly.”

You take it. “You’re like a… a boyfriend. But like, a really responsible one. Like—tax-paying, call-my-mom-for-me energy.”

Han snorts and gets up, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, you’re done talking now.”

“I’m not!” you call after him as he sets the grocery bag down. “I’m very interesting!”

He just shakes his head, trying (and failing) to hide his smile.

When you blink again, he’s in front of you, holding out a hand. “C’mon. Bed’s this way.”

You pause. “You only have one bed.”

His ears go pink. “You can take it.”

You squint. “Where are you gonna sleep?”

He shrugs, awkward. “Floor. I’ve got blankets.”

“That’s tragic.”

“I’ve survived worse.”

You pout but don’t argue as he pulls you gently to your feet again. You’re warm, wobbly, still clutching the water bottle like a security blanket, and when he steers you toward the bed, you barely resist at all.

He helps you sit, then hands you a second pillow and adjusts the blanket like he’s not trying to combust over how soft you look there. He’s halfway to standing up again when you tug the edge of the blanket higher and murmur:

“Thanks, Han.”

He’s still standing near the edge of the bed, half in the dark, blinking at you like you’ve just short-circuited every single brain cell in his head.

His voice is a little uneven when he says, “Y-Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

You smile at him, all cozy and soft, limbs draped across his sheets like you belong there.

He doesn’t even know where to put his hands.

“I, uh—” He scratches at the back of his neck. “I still have a bit of work to do. Just mixing something. I’ll, um. Be over here.”

You blink up at him. “What kinda work?”

“Music stuff.” His voice cracks a little, and he clears his throat immediately. “I won’t bother you. You can—yeah, you can just pass out. All good.”

“You don’t mind me on your bed?”

Han stares at you for a second too long.

Then jerks his gaze away. “No. I—I mean. No, definitely not. Like, at all.”

He fumbles over to his desk, nearly knocking over a pair of headphones, and drops into the chair like his legs have forgotten how to bend properly.

You snuggle deeper into the mattress, dragging the blanket over your legs with a dramatic sigh. “This is comfy. You have good taste in sheets.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, clicking around on his laptop even though the track’s already loaded. 

You giggle.

He pretends not to notice.

You don’t see it—but his eyes flick to you constantly. Quick little glances when you shift, or sigh, or tuck your face into the pillow like it’s your new favorite thing. He can’t not look.

You yawn, cheek squished into his pillow. “You smell nice.”

He makes a sound that’s somewhere between a cough and a quiet plea for mercy. “You should, uh. Try to sleep.”

“Mhm.”

You don’t move.

Just keep lying there. All sweet and sleepy and tangled up in his blankets, on his bed, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

And even though he should be focusing—he really, really should—

Han can’t stop smiling.

He turns back to his screen and presses play, the familiar beat fills his headphones, looping low and steady.

It’s not done—not even close. The layers are uneven, the bass too soft, the melody still fighting to find its place. But it’s something. And tonight, it’s the only thing keeping his hands busy while his mind refuses to stop thinking about you in his bed.

You’re quiet for a while.

He thinks maybe you’ve finally fallen asleep. You haven’t said anything in minutes, and your breathing’s slow, almost even. He lets himself glance over his shoulder.

You’re still awake.

Eyes open. Watching him.

You shift slightly under the blanket, cheek still pressed into his pillow. Your voice is soft, drowsy. “Can I hear it?”

He blinks. “What?”

“The track you’re working on,” you murmur. “Can I listen?”

Han’s heart does a somersault. Or maybe a backflip. Hard to tell through the static in his chest.

He turns fully in his chair. “Now?”

You nod, slow and lazy. “You promised. You said I could listen next time you made something new.”

Right. He had said that.

But not this one.

Not track twelve.

He fidgets with the headphone wire. “It’s not that one.”

You blink at him, confused.

“The one with the lo-fi strings,” he explains, voice quieter now. “Track twelve. I still haven’t finished it.”

“Oh.”

You don’t sound disappointed. Just curious.

He rubs a hand over his face, then offers a crooked little smile. “But you can hear this one. If you want.”

You nod again, eyes fluttering half-shut like the night is finally catching up to you.

He hesitates.

Then gently unplugs the headphones from the jack, letting the soft sound of the track fill the room.

It’s quiet. Dreamy. Bare bones but beautiful—slow, pulsing synth layered under a simple piano loop. There’s a vocal sample buried under the mix, something wordless and airy, like a breath that never ends.

You close your eyes fully this time, listening.

And Han watches you—watches the way your body relaxes into the sound, how your lips part just slightly, like the music is pulling something from you even in sleep.

He turns back to the screen, fingers hovering over the trackpad.

You speak again, barely above a whisper.

“It’s sad,” you murmur.

He doesn’t answer.

“Not in a bad way,” you add quickly. “Just… it sounds like it’s missing something. Like it’s looking for something.”

Han swallows.

Yeah.

That’s exactly what it is.

He stares at the waveform on his screen and says, very softly, “I think it’s trying to say something I don’t know how to say yet.”

You don’t reply. Not right away.

When you do, your voice is already trailing off into sleep. “You don’t have to say it. It’s already in the music.”

And then you're still.

Breathing even. Eyes shut.

Han doesn’t move for a long time.

Just sits in the soft blue glow of his screen, heartbeat slowing down to match yours, wondering how the hell he’s supposed to finish a song when the thing it’s missing is falling asleep five feet away.

______________________________________________________________

It’s been months since that first night.

Since the couchless sleepover, since the drunken key fiasco, since you fell asleep to the sound of his unfinished song.

And in that time, Han has come out of his shell in the slowest, sweetest way possible.

At first, he was shy. Still the hoodie-wearing recluse with his eyes glued to Ableton and his words tucked somewhere behind clenched teeth.

But then he started showing up more. At your door with takeout. With headphones and half-finished demos. With quiet, tentative smiles that stretched wider the more you smiled back.

You got to know him.

He told you about Malaysia—about sticky summers and midnight noodles and the way his parents still call twice a week even though they’re oceans apart. He told you how he moved to Korea for college, studied for a year, and then dropped out when he realized his brain was wired for sound, not textbooks.

You told him about your life, too—your parents and their ever-shifting conditions for love, the apartment they still pay for, the degree you’re grinding out just to prove something. To who, you’re not even sure.

And Han—turns out he’s kind of a chatterbox. Once he’s comfortable, the boy talks. About anything. About everything. With his hands, with his whole face. About samples and synths and the absolute travesty that is powdered parmesan.

Now, it’s like this: casual, constant, inevitable.

You crash at his place sometimes—not because you're locked out, but just because. Sometimes you bring your laptop and do homework on his floor. Sometimes you nap in his bed while he works. You keep a toothbrush there now. A hoodie of his has quietly migrated to your closet.

You even invited him to your graduation this spring. “It’s not like my parents are coming,” you’d shrugged, and Han had just blinked at you, then said okay, like it wasn’t the biggest fucking deal.

He still blushes when you call him hot. Still won’t take the bed when you stay over. Still treats you like you might disappear if he lets himself want too much.

And today, you’re at your place—your couch this time, legs tangled together on either end, killing time the way only two people who are too comfortable with each other can.

Lazy game of truth or dare. No real stakes. Just soft laughter and shared snacks and the kind of questions that teeter between teasing and tender.

Han’s fingers are brushing against your ankle, casual and unthinking. The popcorn bowl is somewhere on the floor, long forgotten. You’re both half-reclined, cozy and loose, a tangle of limbs and friendship that’s been threatening to become something else for weeks now.

You’ve already dared him to do his worst celebrity impression, and he’d made you sing a jingle from one of your old childhood commercials. The kind of dumb, lazy game that only works when you trust someone enough not to twist the blade when things get close.

Now it’s his turn.

“Truth,” you say, yawning, stretching like a cat in the sun. “I’m feeling vulnerable.”

He gives you a look. One brow raised, fingers tapping thoughtfully against his thigh. “Okay. What was your best orgasm?”

You blink.

Then laugh.

He flushes instantly. “Shit—was that too far? I thought we were in the spicy round.”

“No, no,” you say, waving a hand, trying to keep your smile light. “It’s fair.”

But you don’t answer right away.

You sit there for a second, fiddling with the hem of your oversized sleep shirt. His question settles somewhere low in your stomach—not uncomfortable, just… exposed. Like a truth you’ve learned to laugh off before anyone can look too closely.

You glance at him, then say it—half-teasing, like a joke you’ve told a few times before.

“I wouldn’t know.”

Han blinks. “You wouldn’t—?”

You shrug. “Never had one. Not a good one. Not any, actually.”

There’s a pause. His brows lift, lips parting slightly, but you beat him to it with a raised hand and a crooked grin.

“I know, I know. Tragic. I’m either defective or cursed. It’s a toss-up.”

He doesn’t laugh.

You thought he might—just to lighten the mood. Maybe roll with the joke, keep it casual.

But Han’s expression softens instead. Slowly. Like he’s putting something together.

But Han’s expression softens instead. Slowly. Like he’s putting something together.

“That’s not funny,” he says, voice quiet. Barely a wrinkle of sound between you.

You blink. “It’s kind of funny.”

“No, it’s not.” He leans in a little, eyes searching yours. “And it’s definitely not true.”

You hold his gaze for a beat longer than you mean to. “Tell that to every guy I’ve slept with.”

He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t flinch. Just says, soft but certain, “They don’t count.”

Something in your chest pulls tight.

You sit back, let out a soft exhale through your nose. Try again, lighter this time. “I mean, at some point, you start to wonder if it’s just you, right? Like maybe I missed a biological memo.”

“You didn’t,” he says, firm now. “You just haven’t been with someone who cared enough to figure you out.”

You snort softly, eyes dropping to his lips before flicking back up. “What, and you do?”

His breath catches, just slightly. But he doesn’t flinch.

“Yeah,” he says. Simple. Sure. “I do.”

You go quiet.

It’s not the answer that surprises you—it’s how steady he is when he says it. Like it’s not even a question in his mind. Like he’s already imagined it, already decided what he’d do if you ever let him.

That steadiness makes your throat go tight.

“Okay,” you say, voice quiet. “Then what would you do?”

Han shifts slightly, eyes locked on yours, his expression unreadable. Focused.

“I’d start slow,” he says, and it doesn’t sound like a line—it sounds like a plan. “Let you get used to being touched in a way that’s not… performative.”

You blink.

He leans in, just a little. Not close enough to touch. Not yet.

“I’d watch your face,” he continues, softer now, “and actually pay attention. I’d figure out what makes you squirm. What makes your breath catch. What makes you ask for more.”

Your pulse thrums at your throat, hot and sharp.

“I’d talk to you,” he murmurs. “Tell you what I’m doing. Tell you how fucking good you look while I’m doing it. Make sure you know every second that it’s about you.”

Your pulse thrums at your throat, hot and sharp.

You don’t say anything. You can’t.

Because Han is looking at you like he already has you spread out in his mind. Like he’s memorizing every microreaction, storing them away like he might need them later. Like he’s already tasting the sound you’ll make when he finally breaks you open.

Your voice comes out low. Barely there.

“That’s a lot of attention for one orgasm.”

Han’s mouth twitches. Not a smile. Not quite yet.

“I’m not aiming for one.”

You feel it in your chest—in your spine—the way his voice sinks into you. Low. Purposeful. Like he’s already in your skin, like the words themselves are a touch.

You can’t breathe.

He’s so close now, and still—still—not touching you. He could. He should. Your body is already leaning into the heat of him, legs still curled beneath you, the hem of your sleep shirt brushing high on your thighs. But he doesn’t move.

“Have you… done this before?”

He blinks. “Made someone come?”

You nod, quick, almost shy.

“Yeah.” His mouth lifts at one corner. “Why?”

You hesitate, eyes flicking over his face. “I… thought you were a virgin.”

Han blinks. Then he laughs—a soft, breathy thing that curls low in his throat.

“Wow,” he murmurs, rubbing the back of his neck, his cheeks already going red. “That’s, uh… new.”

You’re not teasing anymore. Not really. Not with the way your eyes keep flicking over him—his mouth, his hands, the pink creeping up the slope of his neck. Not with how you’re sitting up straighter, how your thighs squeeze just slightly together without meaning to.

He notices.

And it flusters him, of course it does—he’s Han, after all. All nervous energy and soft-spoken charm. But there’s something else underneath it too. Something steady. Something you didn’t see before.

“You really think I’ve spent this much time listening to you fake it through the walls and didn’t fantasize about doing it better?”

Your breath catches. Hard.

His gaze doesn’t drop. Doesn’t falter.

And suddenly, you’re seeing him for what he is—really seeing him.

The slightly older boy next door. The dropout with big hands and bigger dreams. The quiet music producer who hides behind humor but notices everything. The same Han who always opened his door, always gave you the bed, always walked on the street side of the sidewalk—but now you realize he’s been wanting you the whole time.

And you missed it.

You look at him now—and you feel it.

The shift.

Because he’s still Han. Still hoodie-clad and sweet and overly cautious.

But he’s also a man.

And god, it’s hitting you all at once.

The way his eyes haven’t left your mouth. The way he says things like I’m not aiming for one with such quiet, devastating confidence. The way he can be so careful with you and still make your skin burn like he’s already touched you everywhere.

You swallow hard.

“So,” you murmur, voice dipping low, “you’ve done this before.”

His fingers twitch where they rest against his thigh. “Yeah.”

“How many girls?”

He blushes harder at that. Clears his throat. “I mean, not a lot.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“I’m not—” he fumbles, flustered now, voice high-pitched with embarrassment, “—like, I’m not some sex god, okay?”

You giggle. Can’t help it.

He glares, weakly. “Don’t look at me like that.”

You lean in. Let your voice soften. “Like what?”

He shifts under your gaze, eyes flicking down again before returning to yours. “Like you’re surprised.”

“I am,” you whisper.

And you are.

Surprised by the heat in your belly. Surprised by the tension in his jaw, the way he’s not looking away now. Surprised by the fact that the Han you thought you knew—the one who panicked over burnt rice and once apologized to a houseplant—is sitting in front of you, cheeks flushed, voice low, practically thrumming with restraint.

And the restraint is unraveling. You can see it. You can feel it.

His hand is still resting on his thigh. Tense. Useless.

You want it on you.

He must know, must feel the shift in the air, because he breathes out through his nose—shaky, controlled—and finally moves.

Not to kiss you.

Not yet.

Just slides closer, knees brushing yours. Hands braced on either side of your thighs like he’s holding himself back from climbing into your lap. Like if he gets too close, he won’t be able to stop.

His voice is soft when it comes. Careful.

“I don’t wanna mess this up.”

You blink. “What?”

“This,” he says, eyes darting between yours. “You. Us.”

Your heart kicks.

“I’m serious,” he adds. “If you want me to stop, I will. Even if I’ve already started. Even if you change your mind in the middle. I need you to know that.”

You just look at him.

At his flushed cheeks, his trembling fingers gripping the couch cushion, the way his eyes won’t stay still—darting to your mouth, your thighs, your eyes again.

You don’t know how to say what’s clawing up your throat. Don’t know how to explain that you’ve never felt like this. Like you could fall apart and not have to put yourself back together alone.

So instead, you reach for him.

You thread your fingers through his, bring his hand to your thigh—bare skin under the edge of your sleep shirt—and press it there, warm and waiting.

His breath stutters.

“Okay,” you whisper.

His breath stutters.

That’s all it takes.

His fingers flex against your thigh—just a twitch, nothing urgent. But the heat of them sinks in deep. You can feel how careful he’s being, how tightly he’s holding the leash on himself, like he doesn’t trust what’ll happen if he moves too fast.

You tilt your hips slightly. Just enough.

He moves.

Slides his hand higher, beneath the hem of your sleep shirt. Knuckles grazing soft skin, the inside of your thigh, and you’re already trembling. The anticipation is thick—so much thicker than anything that’s come before it. Your body’s aching and he hasn’t even touched you where you need it yet.

Han breathes out slowly. You can hear the effort it takes not to rush.

His fingers reach your panties.

They’re soaked. Clinging to you. And he makes a sound in the back of his throat when he feels it—somewhere between a sigh and a groan, like it’s hurting him, how wet you already are.

“You’re shaking,” he whispers.

“I’m trying not to.”

“You don’t have to,” he says, and leans in to kiss the corner of your mouth. “You can just let me take care of it.”

And you do.

You sink into the cushions and let his hand keep climbing. Let it trail over skin that’s already too hot, too tight, too aware. The hem of your shirt rides up over your hips as he moves, exposing soft skin and damp fabric.

He touches you through your panties first. Just a single stroke—up and down, slow, deliberate.

You jolt.

Your thighs twitch. Your hips tilt into his hand before you even mean to.

His fingers are steady. Gentle. No fumbling, no testing limits just to say he did. He strokes over the soaked cotton with maddening patience, slow enough that your body’s buzzing before he even slides them aside.

He strokes over the soaked cotton with maddening patience, slow enough that your body’s buzzing before he even slides them aside.

When he does, it’s with a breathless little sound—almost like awe.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, voice low and tight. “You’re so wet already.”

You shiver.

He doesn’t ask permission again. He doesn’t need to. Your legs fall open on instinct, your body already offering itself up like it’s been waiting for this. For him.

He dips his fingers into you with quiet care—just the first two, slow and unhurried, and it’s so much. Not just the stretch, not just the slick slide of it—it’s the way he groans like he can feel how good you feel around him. Like your body is turning him on just by existing.

“Holy shit,” he breathes. “How has no one made you cum?”

You whimper.

“Seriously,” he says, fingers curling slightly inside you, rubbing against that spot that makes your toes curl. “You’ve got the prettiest fucking pussy I’ve ever seen. Wet and warm and just—fuck, baby.”

Your hips jolt when he says it—baby—and he notices. His mouth quirks.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, watching your face like it’s giving him instructions. “You like that. Being talked to while I fuck you with my fingers?”

You moan—helpless, high-pitched—and your hand shoots down to grab his wrist.

He stills immediately. “Too much?”

You shake your head. Or maybe you nod. You don’t even know anymore—your brain’s barely holding on, your body dragging you under, soaking up everything he gives like it’s the first drop of water in a drought.

He watches your reaction like it’s gospel. Like every twitch and gasp is holy.

“Thought so,” he says, and starts to move again—slow, controlled pumps of his fingers, careful not to lose that rhythm now that he’s found what works. The way your walls clench when he curls. The way your hips chase him when he retreats. The way your breath hitches when his palm drags across your clit just a little too hard.

And god, he uses it all.

“Fuck,” he mutters, eyes glued to where he’s working you open. “If this pussy was mine, I wouldn’t be able to leave you alone.”

You gasp.

“I’d keep you like this every night,” he says, voice thick now. “Stuffed, dripping, begging for it. Just like this.”

You keen, head falling back against the cushions, thighs straining around his wrist. Another twist of his fingers, another filthy curl, and you’re spiraling again—clenching, grinding, chasing something you’ve never actually caught before.

But it’s still not enough.

Close, so close. You can feel it in your gut, in the burn behind your eyes, in the way your whole body draws tight like a wire about to snap. But then it slips, slithers away like it always does, leaving you aching and wrung out and panting like you’ve been running in circles.

Han doesn’t stop.

He slows, sure. Eases off that pressure like he knows—like he felt the way you were peaking and watched it fall apart all over again.

Your breath stutters. Your hands tremble where they’re gripping the couch cushions. Your whole body shakes with the frustration of it.

Han looks fucking thrilled.

“Shit,” he whispers, eyes glued to the slick mess between your legs. “You’re gonna be a fucking problem, huh?

You whimper—shaky, half-desperate—and try to pull your legs closed, but his free hand slides up your thigh and keeps them open. He’s still panting, still hard in his sweats, and yet somehow entirely focused on you.

Your voice comes out broken. “I can’t—fuck, Han, I was so close—”

“I know, baby,” he murmurs, leaning over you. His fingers finally slip free, soaked and shining, and he brings them to his mouth like it’s nothing. Like tasting you is just a thing he does between breaths. “You’re so fucking pretty can’t believe no one’s ever made you come.”

He sucks one finger between his lips, humming low in his throat, and your entire body jerks.

He grins around his knuckle. Blushy. Sweet. Still Han, somehow—except his eyes are dark now, slow-burning, locked onto you with intent.

And when he speaks, it’s not teasing. It’s reverent.

“I knew you’d taste good,” he murmurs, dragging his hand down your thigh again. “Didn’t think you’d ruin me this fast, though.”

You squirm, still reeling from the touch of his fingers, still aching from how close you came—how it slipped just out of reach. Your panties are somewhere around your knees now, tangled and damp, and your thighs are trembling despite the warmth of the room.

But Han doesn’t give you time to settle.

He drops back down between your legs like it’s instinct.

Like he belongs there.

You brace for it—his mouth, his tongue—but nothing prepares you for how intentional it is.

Because when he licks you, it’s not just lust. It’s devotion.

The first press of his tongue is slow, hot, drawn out like he’s tasting something forbidden. It drags through your folds, slick and maddening, before he pulls back just slightly and exhales a shaky breath against your cunt like it’s worship.

“Fuck,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “You’re so fucking sweet. So wet—dripping for me, baby.”

Your hips jerk. A soft moan tears from your throat, helpless and startled.

He hums at the sound. And then his tongue is on you again—lapping, curling, sliding in lazy circles around your clit, not rushed, not rough. Patient.

But it’s overwhelming.

Too much and somehow still not enough.

You gasp, spine arching. Your thighs twitch against his shoulders again and he presses his hands there—holding you open, keeping you still. His grip is firm, grounding. Gentle only in contrast to the way he eats you.

He groans low when your hips roll, when your slick coats his lips and chin. Like it turns him on more than anything else. Like this is the part he needs.

He devours you like he’s starved for it.

Like he’s been thinking about this—you—for longer than he’s willing to admit. Tongue slow but deliberate, savoring every stroke, every gasp you give him. He doesn’t speak now, doesn’t need to. The sounds alone—your moans, the wet suck of his mouth, the way your breath stutters every time he flattens his tongue against your clit—say enough.

But it’s your reactions that do it. The way your body jumps every time he moves just right. The way your hands scramble for the couch cushions, for him, like you don’t know what else to hold onto. The way your thighs clamp around his head when he groans into your cunt.

That’s when he realizes.

You’ve never been eaten out before.

It hits him all at once—in the way you shiver, in the way your body doesn’t quite know how to take the pleasure he’s giving. There’s something raw about it. Uncharted. Holy.

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t tease. Just lets the knowledge settle deep in his chest like a vow.

So he slows down. Not to drag it out—to care. To guide you through it.

He pulls back just slightly, presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another one, lower, softer. You can feel his breath against your skin, shaky and uneven, like you are unraveling him just by letting him do this.

He kisses down, worshipful, open-mouthed presses of tongue and lips trailing toward where you’re slick and trembling—until he’s back on you, groaning deep in his chest like he needs this to survive.

He laps at your cunt like a man obsessed. Messy, wet, obscene.

His tongue flicks fast over your clit, sloppy and relentless, and when you whimper—high and panicked—his hands tighten on your thighs, dragging them wider, pushing you open like he can’t get enough. His nose presses into the soft swell of you and his mouth won’t stop.

And god—god, the noises.

The slick suck of his mouth, the soft wet licks between your folds, the broken, wanton moans he keeps letting out like your taste is fucking euphoric.

Your thighs are trembling against his cheeks, toes curling against the cushions, hands fisting in the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to this plane of existence. Every time you start to come down, he drags you right back up—tongue flicking, then flattening, then sucking.

You’re soaking him. You know it. Can feel the slick mess coating his lips, his chin, now—but he doesn’t care. Doesn’t even flinch. Just dives in deeper, grinds his mouth against you like it’s the only thing that matters.

And maybe it is.

You’ve never made sounds like this before. Never felt anything like this. It’s a full-body unraveling—pleasure so raw and high-pitched it’s almost unbearable. You can’t even find words anymore. You try—gasp out his name, maybe a plea, maybe a warning—but it’s just breath. Just noise.

He hears it anyway.

Groans in response, and the vibration shoots through you—tightens every nerve, every muscle. You feel it everywhere. In your spine, in your belly, in your fucking teeth.

He licks through your folds like he’s trying to commit the shape of you to memory, tongue dragging over your clit in slow, hard laps now—intentional, devastating. One hand lets go of your thigh to slide underneath you, to lift your hips, tilt you toward his mouth like an offering.

Like you’re his altar and he’s ready to worship.

You don’t even realize you're crying until the tears hit your cheeks—silent and sudden, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of it, the depth of it, the relentlessness of him.

Jisung doesn’t notice.

Or maybe he does and just thinks it’s holy.

Because he’s still moaning against your cunt like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Like this is salvation. Like this is his first time, too.

The warmth is unbearable. Sharp and sweet and all-consuming, climbing up your spine in thick, molten waves that won’t stop—won’t let you go. Your muscles are locking up, your breath catching in your throat, your fingers cramping from how tight you're clenching the cushions.

You’re going to break.

You know it.

You want to.

And he just keeps going—tongue pressed flat and firm against your clit now, dragging in slow, filthy circles while his lips suck softly, reverently, like he’s trying to love you apart piece by piece.

You feel it snap somewhere deep inside you.

The heat—the ache—the need—it peaks.

And then it bursts..

Your thighs clamp around his head, your hips jerk off the couch, your moan rips loose from your throat like you’ve been silenced your whole life and this is the only language your body ever needed to speak.

You’re cumming. Hard. Helpless.

Everything pulses—your cunt, your chest, your fingers. Every nerve is alight, every inch of you clenched and shaking, your whole body seized in the grip of something so big you can’t name it.

And Jisung doesn’t stop.

Not when your legs twitch.

Not when your body tries to squirm away.

Not even when you sob his name, high and wrecked, too sensitive to breathe.

He eats it up. Literally.

Groaning low in his throat, nose pressed to your mound, tongue still working your clit like he wants to wring another orgasm out of you before this one’s even ended. You try to stop him, legs trembling, fingers pushing at his hair with barely any strength behind them.

But he just moans again, long and loud and ruined, the vibration shooting straight through your core.

“H-Han—” you gasp, voice cracked and teary.

But he can’t stop. He won’t.

You’ve broken open for him—shattered for him—and it’s like something inside him snapped too. His mouth keeps moving, lapping through your folds like he’s addicted, like he needs the taste of you to live, sucking every drop from your body like he’s trying to memorize it.

You try again to push him off. This time with real effort. A desperate shove, your fingers fisting in his hair and yanking—not hard, not mean, but urgent.

“Han, please—”

He finally pulls back.

Gasps.

His chest is heaving. His mouth is slick and swollen, the lower half of his face soaked in your release, and he blinks up at you like he forgot where he is.

“Shit—fuck, I’m sorry, I���” he pants, voice wrecked, dazed.

Then he looks down.

And groans.

Because you’re still dripping.

Slick pooling out of you, slow and obscene, catching the light as it runs in glistening streaks down the curve of your pussy and the swell of your ass, soaking the couch beneath you.

And he can’t help himself.

His hands slide up your thighs again—possessive, reverent—and before you can stop him, he leans back in.

One long, filthy lick—from your entrance to your clit—slurping up everything you spilled. He moans as it hits his tongue, deep and satisfied, and swirls it around like he’s tasting honey.

He pulls back just far enough to look at you.

Face flushed, lips swollen and slick, chin glossy with your release. His eyes are glassy—fucked-out and starving and soft in a way that shouldn’t match the filth of what he just did to you. But somehow it does.

Somehow, it makes it worse.

He’s panting like he just ran miles. Sweat dampens his curls, his hoodie clings to his chest, and his cock is still straining hard against his sweats—visibly aching. But he doesn’t even look at himself. Doesn’t even care.

He’s still looking at you.

At the mess he made.

At your cunt—pink and soaked and fluttering with aftershocks, spread open on the couch like he carved you out just for him.

And he fucking smiles.

“Jesus,” he breathes, dragging his thumb along your inner thigh, slow and lazy, eyes still locked on the slick between your legs. “You’re unreal.”

You’re still trembling—wrung out, flushed, completely silent now except for the shattered sound of your breath.

But he isn’t done.

Not really.

Because then his thumb moves—trails closer, closer, until it’s swiping through the slick seam of you, collecting it, spreading it.

You flinch, hips twitching, breath hitching on a wrecked little gasp.

He freezes.

“Sorry—shit, sorry,” he murmurs, voice gone soft in the edges. “You’re probably so fucking sensitive right now.”

You nod, dazed. Barely. You’re not even sure you meant to.

But his eyes drop back down—and the sight of your cunt twitching under his touch, the way slick is still dripping out of you, slow and shiny, pooling where your thighs meet—

It short-circuits whatever restraint he had left.

“Can I…” he starts, already leaning in again, lips parted, breath ragged. “Just—one more taste, baby. Please.”

And before you can answer, he’s there again.

Licking into you.

Tongue flat and greedy, slow and deep, sliding through the wreckage he left behind like he needs it to breathe. He moans—loud—when it coats his tongue, when it drips down his chin, when he presses another kiss to your clit like he’s thanking it for everything.

You can’t stop shaking.

From how tender he’s being while still devouring you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. From how overwhelmed your body feels—stretched between too much and not enough, oversensitive but still wanting.

He doesn’t rush now. Doesn’t try to make you cum again.

This is different.

It’s reverent. Like he’s cleaning you up with his mouth, dragging his tongue through every slick drop, pressing soft kisses into the mess like he’s trying to soothe the tremble in your thighs.

You whimper, just once—raw and hoarse.

That’s when he stops for real.

You sigh into his mouth, quiet and trembling, the kind of sound that only comes when everything inside you is raw—peeled back, exposed, open. He swallows it like it’s precious. Like it matters.

His hand at your waist shifts, pulling you gently forward until your chest brushes his. You’re still bare from the waist down—thighs sticky, breath uneven—and he’s still clothed, still hard, still aching beneath his sweats.

But he doesn’t grind against you.

Doesn’t ask for anything.

He just holds you.

Your knees fall around his hips, lazy and loose, and his thumb strokes the hinge of your jaw—slow, absent, like he needs the contact to stay calm.

The kiss deepens. Not with hunger. With heat. With reverence. His lips move against yours like he wants to memorize the shape of your mouth, your breath, the taste of your tongue mixed with your own arousal.

You break first—pulling back just a fraction to breathe, eyes fluttering open.

He’s already looking at you.

And there’s something in his gaze that wasn’t there before. Something stunned. Struck. Soft.

He whispers, “You okay?”

You nod. Maybe too fast. You feel stripped down to something small and shaking, something new—but his hand doesn’t leave you. His thumb still brushes your cheek. His chest still rises and falls like he’s feeling everything with you.

You whisper back, “I didn’t know it could feel like that.”

Jisung exhales a laugh—wrecked and wrecking.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, leaning forward again to press a kiss to your cheek, then another to your temple. “Then I guess we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

You don’t even realize you’re smiling until he kisses it. Presses his lips right there, at the corner of your mouth, so gentle it makes your eyes sting all over again.

There’s a beat of silence—thick and golden, warm between the ruined rhythm of your breathing.

Then he asks, quieter this time, “Can I hold you for a while?”

And god. You’ve never wanted anything more.

______________________________________________________________

The crowd pours out of the auditorium like a tide—caps slightly askew, diplomas clutched tight, families gathered in little clusters of congratulations and cameras. Laughter. Shouts. The click of heels and the flutter of gowns. You scan the crowd, heart racing, eyes darting.

And then you see him.

Leaning awkwardly against a tree, holding a slightly crumpled bouquet of grocery store flowers and dressed in the nicest outfit you’ve ever seen him wear. Still a hoodie—because he’s him—but it’s black and clean and zipped halfway up over a plain white tee. His hair’s been pushed back, curls tamed, face soft in the sunlight.

Like he wanted to look good.

For you.

You run.

Full sprint, no hesitation. Laughing, radiant, the hem of your gown flying behind you. And Jisung barely has time to react before you crash into his arms—legs wrapping around his waist, face buried in his neck.

He catches you without thinking. Arms locked tight around your back, holding you like the whole world could fall away and he’d still have you.

“Jesus—hi,” he breathes, stunned, grinning into your shoulder. 

“You came,” you whisper, pulling back just enough to look at him, eyes glassy and sunlit.

“Of course I came,” he murmurs, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “I wouldn’t miss this.”

You swallow, smile trembling just a little. You’re still holding your cap too tightly. Still searching the crowd behind him, over his shoulder, behind trees and between cars—hoping.

And Jisung sees it.

Sees the flicker in your expression when you realize no one else is coming. No familiar voices calling your name. No parents weaving through the crowd, late and disheveled but here. Nothing.

Just him.

You try to play it off—force a smile, tilt your head.

But Jisung just exhales, jaw tight, eyes warm and sharp.

“Hey,” he says softly, tipping your chin up. “Fuck ‘em.”

Your breath hitches—more from the way he says it than what he says. No apology. No pity. Just truth, blunt and biting and yours.

“Fuck ‘em,” he says again, firmer this time. “They don’t get to take this from you.”

And something in you cracks. Not the kind that breaks—the kind that lets light in.

Your cap slips from your hand to the pavement. You don’t even notice. You just lean forward and let your forehead rest against his, eyes fluttering shut as the noise of the world fades away.

“I thought it wouldn’t matter,” you whisper. “That I didn’t care.”

He nods like he already knew. Lets his hand fall to the small of your back, thumb tracing slow circles through the fabric of your gown.

“But it does,” you admit.

“Of course it does,” he murmurs. “You deserved more than this.”

You pull in a shaky breath. Exhale. Nod against him.

And then you laugh—quiet, almost startled. “God, you look nice.”

He pulls back just enough to give you a crooked smile. “You noticed?”

You sniffle, wiping under your eyes. “You did your hair.”

“I used product and everything,” he says solemnly, and that makes you laugh for real this time. His face lights up at the sound. Then, like he remembers something, his eyes go wide and he fumbles for something in his pocket.

“Wait—here. Got you something.”

You raise a brow as he pulls out a pair of slightly beat-up white AirPods and holds them out like they’re wrapped in silk.

“Your... earwax?” you tease, voice still thick, but lighter now.

Jisung groans, face going red. “Just put them in, smartass.”

You give him a look, lips twitching like you’re holding back another laugh, but you take them. Slip them in with practiced ease, still smirking, still sniffling a little.

And then—

You hear it.

Soft at first. A low, warm hum of synth. That familiar piano progression you’ve heard a hundred times echoing from his bedroom speakers, half-finished and always evolving. A quiet heartbeat of static underneath, the sound of something personal, unfinished—

But not this time.

Now it’s whole.

The bass comes in slow. The melody rises. The rhythm finds its footing like it’s been waiting for you.

Then his voice.

His voice.

Low. Raw. Stripped back and unfiltered, like he recorded it in the middle of the night, barefaced and half asleep. It’s not polished. It’s intimate. Each lyric laid out like a confession, like he’s pressing it directly into your chest.

You freeze.

Your mouth parts, but no words come out. You just stare at him—eyes wide, breath caught, the world suddenly nothing but him and the song in your ears.

Jisung watches you closely, fidgeting, clearly trying to read your face.

“I, uh… I finally finished it,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Track 12. I—kind of stayed up all night working on it. Wanted you to be the first to hear it.”

You swallow hard. “You—wrote this… for me?”

He nods, sheepish. “Well, yeah. Who the fuck else would it be for?”

You blink at him, still stunned, still half-floating somewhere between the melody and his smile.

The music wraps around you like a secret, like sunlight through a window. His voice in your ears. His eyes on your face. His hands fidgeting at his sides, picking at the edge of his hoodie sleeve, suddenly nervous like he didn’t just lay his heart bare in a three-minute track.

And then he says it.

Quiet. Almost like it slips out.

“I’m in love with you.”

Your breath stutters.

He panics a little, eyes going wide, hands gesturing now like he’s trying to physically catch the words and shove them back into his mouth.

“I mean—not in like, a weird, ‘I wrote you a song and now you have to marry me’ way. I just—I’ve been in love with you for a while, and I didn’t know how to say it. And then I kept not saying it, and then you let me eat you out on your couch and I was like, oh cool, guess I’m definitely in love with her—”

You stare at him.

Mouth slightly open. Ears still ringing with his voice from the track. Face flushed from the heat of him and the way he’s unraveling in front of you, hands flailing, words tumbling out too fast, too honest, too him.

“And now I’m saying it,” he rushes on, breath hitching. “And maybe it’s too soon or maybe it’s stupid but—fuck, I don’t care. I love you. And I don’t just mean in the afterglow, post-head, 'wow-she’s-so-pretty-when-she’s-cumming' kind of way—which, like, you are—but I mean in the real way. In the way where I think about you all the time and you’re in my music and my coffee and my fucking laundry detergent because you smell like it now—”

You cut him off with a laugh—soft and stunned, the kind that comes from something blooming too fast in your chest. Your hands reach for him instinctively, palms pressed to his chest like you’re trying to slow his heart down, or maybe match yours to it.

Then lean up and kiss him.

He melts into it—hands landing on your waist like he’s afraid you’ll float off if he doesn’t hold you down. His mouth is soft, a little shaky, like he still can’t believe this is happening. Like he’s kissing you with both hands behind his back, offering up his heart like a truce.

When you pull back, your forehead rests against his.

You’re smiling. He is too, in that breathless, stunned way—like you’ve both finally exhaled.

“I’m in love with you too,” you whisper.

He chokes out a sound. Somewhere between a laugh and a gasp. “No shit?”

You nod. “No shit.”

Jisung blinks, then grins—slow and wide and boyish.

He just stands there, still holding you, like his body hasn’t caught up with what just happened.

Like he's trying to memorize this moment—your smile, your closeness, the soft heat of your hands resting over his heart.

He opens his mouth like he wants to say something else. Closes it again.

Then settles for a quiet, breathless, “...Okay.”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “Okay?”

He nods, dazed. “Yeah. Just… okay. Everything’s okay now.”

You lean into his chest, let your head fall to his shoulder. He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for months. His arms wrap around your waist again, this time more certain. More steady.

And for a moment, neither of you says anything.

The crowd is still bustling in the background. Cameras flashing. Tassels swinging. Parents calling names that don’t belong to you. The sound of it used to sting—but not now. Not with him holding you like this. Not with the song still echoing in your ears, a private chorus written just for you.

You glance up. “So what now?”

He looks down at you, still smiling like he doesn’t know how to stop.

“We go home,” he says. “Order too much food. Fall asleep on the couch. Pretend we’re not both crying during The Office reruns.”

You snort. “That’s your big plan?”

He leans in, nudges your nose with his. “No,” he murmurs, softer now. “My big plan is to love you for a really, really long time.”

Your heart stutters.

And it’s so simple—so quiet, so uncomplicated—but it wraps around you like warmth, settles deep in your bones like something you forgot you were allowed to want.

You tip forward and kiss him again, just once. Just enough.

“Sounds like a good plan,” you whisper.

He grins. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Eventually, your fingers find his, threading together as the crowd begins to thin. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, grounding and sure.

You glance down at the flowers, still clutched in your other hand—slightly crushed, petals soft and folding in from the heat. But they’re yours. Someone showed up. Someone stayed.

You’re walking away with his hand in yours, the sun dipping low behind you, the final track still playing softly in your head.

It ends the way all good songs do.

Quiet.

Certain.

Yours.

[sugrclip]

haechan forcing jisung’s head firmly between your folds with the most devious smile ever ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა. your cute little black laced panties, with the cutest pink bow to top it off pushed over to the side by haechan— whose fingers were tangled in ji’s hair as he went in on your cunt. completely pussy drunk and messy, your arousal all on his chin and nose.

“you love how he eats your pretty little pussy? huh doll?” haechan would ask, he would be so mean. laughing when your thighs would start trembling. “please make him stop- can’t take it . . .”

“you wanna stop?” he didn’t ask you, no, he asked a pussy drunk jisung— to which he, of course, shook his head no. sucking your sensitive clit into his mouth, causing you to cry out. attempting to push his head away, haechan slapped your thigh harshly, gripping your hands in his firmly. “give him what he wants, i don’t think he’s stopping any time soon.”

now on your fourth orgasm, back to back, barely minutes in between them. your juicy, lipgloss-covered bottom lip quivered as it felt like your nerves were on fire affecting every part of your body up to your lips, begging haechan to give you a break but he just laughed in your face. your nails instantly gripping the sheets when he let go of your hands, trying to twist your body away. but two pairs of hands holding you down . . . was something else.

“hyung, look at how she’s gripping my fingers,” jisung grunted in awe as if it was the coolest thing he’d ever seen. always talking as if you weren’t there in front of them.

“fuckkk you’re gripping him. so fucking pathetic, i thought you were done?” haechan would mumble out staring at your pussy as if he would start devouring you at any second now.

jisung dived back in, you could’ve swore he moaned. the dazed look in his eyes from your pussy alone scared and awed you. tongue fucking you at one moment then his fingers curling at your g-spot with sucks and slurps to your sensitive nub the next.

“‘m coming again ji~” you hiccuped, haechan sneaking his hands up to press just above your pelvis making you loosen up your muscles and spongy, warm walls. it was as if your insides were on fire, caving in to utter weakness. “no wait-”

squirting in return. you let out choked gasps, tugging jisung’s hair . . . anything to get him away. you mewled as you watched him hold out his tongue in hopes of catching some of the liquid in his mouth. haechan slapped your clit repetitively to prolong your orgasm and out of reflex your hand went to his wrist harshly pushing it away, making him laugh at you.

the sight of jisung licking your folds gently, taking in the essence of what he had just done made you shudder. lucky for you they let you lay and pant for a couple of seconds. preparing yourself for haechan who was ten times worse and always refused to let up— to the point where jisung sometimes got worried.

haechan then went to spit on your pussy, it dripping down your glossy folds like honey. “fuck he ruined you,” he whispered laying soft puckered kisses on your swollen clit and puffy folds. jisung going up to suck at your pert nipples lazily. you were so utterly exhausted that you attempted to close your legs from a touch so soft. “when did our doll become so slutty.”

he’d degrade you making you pout and deny, feeling so humiliated. shushing you when you’d try to reply making you feel even more dumb. “dolls don’t talk back.”

[jj-one]

2:09 AM.

this is smut, do not interact if under 18

your boyfriend’s feeling extra needy for you tonight, and who were you to say no?

pairing: han jisung x reader, established relationship genre/tags: fluff + smut, marking, somnophilia, slight dubcon, soft dom!jisung, fingering, piv, unprotected s*x, slight breeding kink words: 2.0k

[ note. ] — this is a revamp of a fic that i’ve wrote months ago but i actually never posted it on this acc sooo yeah. ik i usually write ji as a sub but him as a dom hits different too >.<

The moon looks extra beautiful tonight. Streaks of pale light bleeds into the sheer, ivory curtains— it’s soft, milky glow cascading over your shared bedroom. It was mostly quiet, aside from the whirring hum of the ceiling fan and faintly audible breaths from his left side as Jisung temporarily rose from the tangled sheets.

It’s already past 2 am, sighing out in annoyance when he checks the time that’s flashed on his phone screen. He couldn’t bring himself to fall asleep no matter how hard he tried, only growing more frustrated as he’s been attempting to do so for the past hour or so.. His eyes greeting the wall with nothing but empty blank stares, sleep was deemed impossible to obtain by now and as many times he closed his eyes they still wouldn’t remain permanently shut.

He rolls over in defeat once again. Facing to the left of him was the most precious, angelic little being he’s ever seen, casting his view over to his sleeping beauty of a girlfriend who’s peacefully dozing off into dreamland. Oh, how he’s always been so envious of your ability to fall asleep in an instant.. you were just the sleepiest girl that could easily try and catch a nap just about anywhere. But oddly enough— he always found that quality of yours to be quite endearing.

Jisung could simply stare at you all day with no complaints. He couldn’t help but admire the way you looked in any state you were in, even whilst in your deep slumber. In his eyes, you were the true embodiment of perfection. Looking adorable as ever with your hair splayed all over the pillow, clutching onto your favorite stuffed animal that you always went to bed with.

Though he was unable to physically fall asleep, he surely was mentally exhausted. His brain still a bit foggy, dreading when it’s time to get up in the morning for work when he’s so badly craving a part 2 of the 3-hour fuck sesh you both had the night before.

A trail of faint markings were embedded into his chest— some that were barely noticeable on his neck and several scratches left on his back from the aftermath; recollections of your pretty moans echoing throughout the room made his cock stir, getting uncontrollably horny all over again.

Too bad you had to be asleep..

It’s like the universe is punishing him, taunting him for some unknown reason. Not only can’t he fall asleep, but now he’s plagued with all kinds of other sinful thoughts and it’s only fueling his insatiable desire for you. The more he thinks about it, the more sexually frustrated he’ll become.

He could easily take care of this ‘problem’ of his by doing it himself, right? Sure.. but it won’t be nearly the same. He needs to touch you, feel every inch of you, have you under him with your face all smushed in the pillows as he fucks his cock deeper into you.. or he could simply eat you out until you begged for him stop like he did last time.

Either way, all he wants is you.

He gets closer, reaching over to brush some strands of hair out of your face, smiling to himself when you snuggled up into his hand— still sound asleep. Your lips smack together a little, body shifting underneath the covers, completely oblivious of what’s going on.

Jisung slowly lifts up the comforter, revealing your pretty figure, the thin, slip dress you wore leaving little to the imagination. It’s silky fabric riding up as you tossed and turned during the night, completely exposing your lower body. He bit his lip at the sight behold him, wanting nothing more in this moment is to grab your thighs and have them spread open for him.

He’d do many ungodly things to you if you were awake right now..

He tried to be good, letting a few minutes pass by. He tried to ignore it— this ache in his chest, in his cock, and in his hands that won’t stop twitching with the need to touch you. Jisung feels like the worst kind of man for staring at you like this, hard as hell, desperate, breath shaky from the way your body torments him without even trying.

But then, he remembers the late night confession you gave him a few weeks ago. When you were half asleep, talking in hushed whispers while tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I’ve always had this fantasy… where you fuck me in my sleep. Like.. I’m just lying there and you can’t help yourself. You’re so needy you wake me up with your cock inside me.”

Jisung nearly choked on his own saliva when you said it. Eyes wide, brain malfunctioning.

You even giggled afterwards like it was nothing, teasing, “you’d never actually do that though, would you?”

But he knew by the way you were looking at him. You wanted it.

And tonight— he’s weak.

+

As his hand shifts underneath the hem of your nightgown to caress your thighs, he tries convincing himself that this was as far as he’ll take it.

“Fuck..” he whispers to himself, brows furrowed. “What’re you doing, Jisung…”

He leans down, kissing your bare skin. “You’re gonna kill me,” he murmurs against you.

But your soft sigh as you turn slightly— it’s encouragement enough, and as more delicate kisses are planted to your shoulder, slowly working his way up to your neck, how you’re lying there so pliantly for him. It only makes him want to do more, see how far he can take this before you actually do wake up.

He’s gotten a bit overtly comfortable now as he traveled to your upper body, leaving no surface of you untouched. He’s fondling one of your breasts with his free hand, the pad of his thumb softly grazing over your nipple. You don’t make any sudden movements— still blissfully unaware of what’s happening.

He nuzzles his face into the crook of your shoulder, stifling a groan when he grinds his clothed dick against your ass. He’s back to holding your waist, but that didn’t last very long before he gets distracted by something else.

Eventually, he found his fingers inching closer to your core, circling your clit over the thin lining of your panties. He hissed at the feeling of how wet you are, even while you’re asleep your body subconsciously adheres to him, as if it knows who it belongs to.

“Just a little…” he mutters, voice laced with guilt and temptation.

He slid the extra layer of fabric to the side, collecting more of your arousal before plunging one of his fingers inside, watching with hungry eyes as it disappears in and out of your dripping cunt. The sounds of your wetness only making him more painfully hard, rutting up against you like a dog in heat and he’s absolutely shameless about it at this point. All he wants is to bury his cock between those soft, pretty thighs of yours..

It’s only a matter of time until he finally caves in. And it wasn’t long before he found himself rubbing his cock along your folds and caught his tip in your entrance, sliding in with ease from how soaking wet you are. You make a soft, unconscious noise, hips shifting closer. Your cunt clenches tight around his cock, warm and slick, and he nearly moans out loud from the feel of it.

“God- how are you always this tight?” He grunts out, pressing soft kisses into your neck as he pushes in slowly, inch by inch, his eyes scrunched shut as he sinks into your heat. “You’re not even awake and you’re already making me lose my mind…”

He grips you tightly but not enough to leave any major bruising, he’s still gentle with you, keeping your hips flush against his as fully bottoms out, too deep in concentration to focus on anything else. He barely even notices when your eyes cautiously flutter open, a gasp slipping from your breath when feeling the unexpected intrusion, your warm walls pulse around him, adjusting to the stretch.

You let out another small noise. It might’ve been a moan, a word, or his name, whatever it was— it was the least bit coherent. You were still drowsy and disoriented, but once the initial shock wore off you found yourself relaxing into him again; bathing in his warmth, letting his desires roam free.

Jisung kept groping your tits as he fucks you from behind, lightly twisting your nipple to make you even more delirious for him. You simply could do nothing but lye there and take it, fighting the urge to fall back asleep mixed with the overwhelming pleasure that he’s giving you.

“Baby..”

You stir against him, lazily grinding against him to match his movement. Your sleepy voice sounding much cuter, and a lot more innocent than the actions he’s performing.

“Yeah?” He rasps, voice thick with desire, never letting up on his ministrations, his hips snap back and forth, this time with a little more force— but remains gentle with his words. “Is this.. okay?”

He might’ve been a little late with that question.. but nonetheless, you still appreciate the sentiment of it. You simply respond to him with a hum of compliance, feeling in a state of euphoria as you arch into his touch, feeding off of all the soft praises he’d whisper in your ear. You’d do anything for Jisung, not because he was just your boyfriend, but because it’s him— you trust him more than anything in this world. There were no limits when it comes to your love.

“Cum inside, please,” you desperately whine, your cunt cinching around his thickness when he repeatedly thrusts in your sweet spot.

You felt so needy for him. You always did. Even as you’re getting dicked down by him right now you still call out to him— begging for more. A mutual neediness amongst each other.

“You really wanted this, huh?” He breathes out, voice breaking. “Me waking you up with my cock already inside you? No warning. Just full, stretched, dripping…”

You moan helplessly, nodding.

He laughs— breathless, disbelieving. “You’re so fucking dirty.”

“You were already so wet before I even touched you. Like your pussy was waiting for me.”

His pace quickens. The sound of skin slapping echoes faintly in the room, muffled by the sheets. Every thrust pushes you further up the bed. You gasp and try to stifle your moans in the pillow, but it’s no use.

“Look so pretty when you’re all fucked out like this,” he growls, one hand grabbing your hip, the other fisting your hair and pulling your head back. “Maybe I’ll make this a habit.”

You whimper something incoherent to that, and he chuckles darkly.

He shifts his angle, hitting deeper, harder. Your body jolts with each thrust, legs trembling now.

Jisung could feel himself nearing the edge, and your pleas for him to cum inside was only making his high approach faster.. he sighs, “Wan’ me to give you a baby? Make you a mommy?” It might’ve been a question but he already knew the answer, he didn’t need to hear a response.

“Yes, please..” you manage to say as tiny whimpers and moans fall from your lips, attempting to catch your ragged breaths.

You don’t care about the consequences that come with your decision, you’ll bear those repercussions later. For now though, all you want is for him to milk every last drop of his cum inside you.

“It’s okay baby, just let go..” he talks to you with the sweetest, honey laced voice, coaxing you through your orgasm, “I got you… I got you.”

Your mouth flew permanently agape, in a cloud-like haze as your own orgasm washes over you, all while at the same time having your insides plastered with thick, white ropes of Jisung’s cum.

Your whole body is shaking but you’re brought a source of comfort when several fleeting kisses saturate your back, leading them up to your neck once more to litter faint love bites. You’re left feeling more exhausted than you were before, cuddling with your boyfriend who seems to also be just as worn out as you.

Before drifting back to sleep, you hear a soft-spoken exchange, almost undetectable when he mumbles the words against your skin; but you could still make out exactly what was said.

“I love you.”

[sunshineangel0]

kim seungmin + corruption kink/oral fixation/innocence kink

“You ever had someone go down on you before?”

The question lands like a slap—low, smug, right against your inner thigh as Seungmin’s mouth moves higher, leaving a trail of heat with every kiss.

You shake your head, breath stuttering, heart pounding so loud you’re sure he can hear it. “N-no…”

He chuckles. Quiet, pleased. His lips brush your skin again, softer this time. “Yeah. I figured.”

You’re already spread out for him—laid back, trembling, soaked through your panties like you’ve been waiting for this moment your whole life. Like you were made for this. And maybe you were.

Seungmin drags a hand up your thigh, slow and easy. Like he has all night to take you apart.

“You always get this wet just from someone talking dirty?” he murmurs, eyes flicking up to catch your reaction. “That innocent little brain of yours must be short-circuiting right now.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer. Just slides his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, lets them snap back against your skin with a soft pop before tugging them down—inch by inch, deliberate, like he’s unwrapping a gift.

The second you’re bare, he freezes. Stares. And then exhales like it physically knocked the wind out of him.

“Fuck. Look at you.” His voice drops lower, almost reverent. “Dripping and untouched. You’ve really been keeping this all to yourself?”

Your face burns, but you nod—shaky, exposed, helpless under his gaze.

He grins. “That’s adorable.”

Then his expression shifts—his smile softens into something darker, more dangerous. Like he’s already ten steps ahead, imagining everything he’s going to do to you.

“I’m gonna ruin you,” he says, steady as ever, voice calm and precise like he’s delivering a fact. “You realize that, right?”

You nod before your brain can catch up.

“Good girl.”

He doesn’t waste another second.

The moment his mouth touches you, everything else disappears. His lips are soft, tongue slow, licking into you like he’s savoring every inch. Long, teasing strokes that make your toes curl and your spine arch.

You gasp—sharp and high—and he groans like that sound alone is enough to get him off.

“Mm, fuck,” he mutters into you, voice muffled by your pussy. “Knew you’d taste sweet. But this? Shit. You’re gonna ruin me right back.”

He starts working you over like it’s a challenge. Like he needs to know exactly how to break you with just his mouth.

Your hands find his hair, gripping tight, not to pull him away—but to keep him right there.

“Already shaking,” he murmurs, tongue flicking your clit in short, fast strokes that make your legs jerk. “How’d you go this long without someone doing this to you? That’s criminal.”

You try to answer—anything—but all that comes out is a whimper.

“Don’t worry,” he soothes, dragging his tongue lower, then back up in one slow, filthy lick. “I’ll make sure you never go without again.”

He grips your thighs, pulls you closer, his mouth greedier now—messy, wet, loud. The kind of head that feels like worship and destruction at the same time.

“C’mon, baby,” he whispers against you, voice too tender for how rough his tongue is working you. “Let go. Wanna hear you fall apart.”

It takes one more flick—perfect and precise—and then you’re gone.

You cry out, hips bucking, thighs closing in around his head. He groans, sucking you through it, like he loves the way you shake, the way you moan his name like a prayer.

When you finally go limp, chest heaving, he pulls back—face soaked, lips shiny, eyes blown wide.

He licks his lips slowly, smirking. “Pretty little virgin pussy,” he says, voice rough. “You think I’m stopping after just one?”

He moves up your body, mouth finding your neck, fingers already sliding between your thighs again.

“No, baby. We’re just getting started.”

©sunshineangel0 𖹭 if you liked this work, please consider reblogging, commenting or liking! xoxo franzi 💋

skz general: @velvetmoonlght @scarlet789 @estella-novella @nightmarenyxx @channiesluvrclub @slut4junho @bobaluvzz @channiesbaby1433 @wonniesjungdimple @mythicmochi

(if you wanna be added to the taglist comment below!)

[meenaxskz]

it glows in the dark (bf!han jisung x reader)

drabble | bf!han x reader au genre: light smut | crack warnings: mature suggestive content | language Summary: han bought fluorescent green glow-in-the-dark condom and a smiles like he just cured world hunger. you? you’re just trying not to pass out laughing. a/n : i wanted to make all the members but i can only imagine jisung doing this kind of things lol

You’re straddling him on the bed, lips on his jaw, everything moving fast.

“God, I missed you,” he breathes, hands gripping your hips.

“I missed you more...”

And then mid grope, he goes :

“WAIT. WAIT. WAIT.”

You freeze. “What?!”

He wiggles out from under you like a lizard “I HAVE A SURPRISE.”

You blink. “Unless the surprise is your d—”

“TA-DAAAA!”

He holds up a shiny silver packet.

You squint.

“…No.”

“Oh yes.”

It’s fluorescent green. With a label that proudly reads:

GLOW UP: For When You Want Your Dick to Be the Night Light.

You stare. He grins like a kid who just won at a claw machine.

“IT GLOWS. BABE. IT GLOWS IN THE DARK.”

You cover your face, already laughing.

“Why would you BUY that??”

“Because I CARE about SEXUAL INNOVATION.”

“Because you’re an unhinged menace”

“Because imagine this: the lights go out. BOOM. Green saber. Science fiction but sexy.”

You wheeze. “You’re insane.”

He winks. “You ever wanted to say 'Omg, I saw stars' during sex and actually mean it? Because I can give you glowstick dick.”

You fall off the bed.

---

The room is pitch black.

Except for the fluorescent green light glowing from one very specific area.

You’re on your back, trying to compose yourself.

Jisung is above you, dick fully luminated, posing like a Marvel villain.

“Prepare yourself” he whispers dramatically “for the GLOW OF PASSION.”

You choke. “Jisung—please—”

He thrusts once. You scream laughing.

“You’re glowing like a nuclear noodle!”

“Shhhhhh” he whispers, pressing a finger to your lips. “Let me light up your life.”

You slap his chest. “I can’t take you seriously.”

He gasps. “Is that what you’d say to green lantern in bed?!”

“Jisung I’m BEGGING YOU-”

He sits back on his heels, still very much illuminated and way too proud.

“Okay, but like...look at it. This is peak performance.”

“It’s radioactive! You look like your dick went to Chernobyl.”

“Why are you being mean to me in my moment of power?!”

You try to straddle him. You really try.

But you’re shaking from laughter.

Hands on his shoulders. Face buried in his neck.

“I’m trying to ride you, I really am-”

“Then ride the lightning, baby.”

You lose it.

Collapse on top of him, wheezing into the sheets.

He flops dramatically onto the bed with you.

The room now filled with the low green glow of his still very much ready junk.

Silence.

Then softly:

“…This was supposed to be the hottest night of our lives.”

You turn your head. “It is. You just accidentally made it sci-fi.”

He sighs. “Next time I’m buying the color changing one.”

You pause. “THERE’S A COLOR CHANGING ONE?!”

He grins. “We’re gonna need sunglasses for that one.”

⤷ main m.list ❟

DISCLAIMER : This blog and all related content (fics, fake texts, headcanons, imagines, etc.) are entirely fictional and created for entertainment purposes only. I do not know Stray Kids personally, nor do I claim any of this reflects their real personalities, actions, or relationships. All characters and their personalities—including Meena King—are original creations.Please enjoy responsibly and remember : real people = real boundaries.

[seungfl0wer]

*Our Toy*

Paring: OT8 x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut (literally just straight porn no real plot)

Warnings: Multiple orgasms, Multiple partners (basically Polly), Restraints, slight degrading, Lots of pet names, Creampie, unprotected sex, face fucking, Double Penetration, oral (both M/F receiving), tit smacks, overstimulation uhm?? I know I definitely probably missed some

Side note wrote this 2 days apart cause of work and I was half asleep for some of it so I hope it came out not jumbled around like it seems in my head.

Kink(s): Free Use + Sharing is caring lol

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(The highly requested part two is here!)

-🩵

You have basically just become the boys’s fuck toy. What started off as a thought with bangchan ended up with you being free use for the rest of the members. What a good leader right? Letting them have fun with you to ease their stress, i mean in his own words “how can i keep such a beautiful thing like you only for myself?” Is Chan your boyfriend? Yeah. And the others? They basically are too. Are you complaining though? 8 attractive men horning after you wanting all your attention and love?

——————

You were sprawled out on the couch staring blankly at the tv as Felix laid on the other side of you. He had his arms lazily draped around you half watching the tv half asleep. As his eyes flickered open and close you moved yourself feeling yourself falling off the couch. You pushed your body back into the half awake boy, ass pushing firmly against his pelvis. He left out a soft whimper at the feeling, you not meaning it in anyway besides trying to get situated. He kissed your neck sweetly his arms pulling you into him even more as he slowly started to hump you. “Ah- lix” you said voice almost a whisper.

“I’m sorry do you want me to stop?” He asks his voice hazy. You shook your head no making him sigh out of relief. He placed his hands on your hips pushing his ever growing bulge against your clothed ass. His kisses were becoming sloppier as he started to suck at small spots. Both of you letting out barely audible moans at the friction. “Lix” you whimpered becoming needy. He ran his hands over your body, they caressed your breast playing with your nipples. “How do you get me so horny so fast” he whined against your skin.

His words made you giggle a little moving your hips back to meet his movements “same reason you get me soaked so fast” your words made his head reel. He pushed down his pants sprinting his cock free as he pulled yours down just enough to push his cock In. It nestled between your folds as he kept rutting into you. Your slick lubing him up as he moved. “Shit- there’s- there’s no way I’m lasting long.” He whined out. He gripped you tightly as he moved between your soaked lips.

As he slid in bottoming out you heard a door open, jisung rubbing his eyes as he came out for a drink. Felix didn’t stop though he started to move slowly but deeply into you letting out Low groans. Jisung raised an eyebrow, sipping on his drink he made his way to the living room. His eyes lit up seeing the sight below him “shit- you two are hot as fuck.” He smirked. “Lixie you sound like you’re bout ready to bust” he teased the other boy.

“Agh well- yeah she’s so- fuck- fucking warm” he said rolling his head back to look at the boy “she cum yet?” He questioned coming around to the other side. Looking at you both for an answer. “We just- started” you said breathily. Jisung smirk grew “let me help then. I mean Felix is already so close beautiful let me help you cum”

Before he even had an answer from either of you he was pulling down your shorts more. Greeted by the sight of how soaked you were, his band mates cock fucking into you so nicely. Fuck. Fuck did you look so good. He attached his lips to your clit quickly like a hungry animal he started to suck. Your head flung back giving Felix a better angle to kiss your neck. As he pumped harshly into you, the man below you eating you like a feral animal your high was approaching fast. “Jisung she’s close- god her pretty pussy is clenching so tightly around me- fucking hell she’s gonna milk me good.”

Jisung groaned hearing this moving his hand down to pump his own member as he kept giving your clit all the attention it needed. Felix pounding sloppily now into you as his high was close too. The scene unfolding was straight out of some porno. “Cu- fuck I’m cuming!” You practically screamed out cuming all over Felix’s cock as Jisung lapped up as much of your juices as he could. Felix was quick behind you as he reached his high fast feeling your warmth coat his cock as your walls clenched tightly around him. He came deep inside of you his body stuttering.

Jisung continued to suck at your overly sensitive clit before moving himself “want to stay in with me lix?” He asked the boy who was breathing heavily behind you. “Fuck yeah” he panted. He moved you a bit trying to keep Felix buried deep in you. As he got you positioned he let his cock rub against you spiting on his tip before meeting it at your entrance. Your head was spinning with so much pleasure and of course you weren’t gonna protest. He pushed into you slowly all three of you moaning out.

The feeling of Felix still inside of you, him being limp now but the extra girth driving you insane. Jisungs movements were fast and deep pushing around Felix’s cum with every thrust. “You two are so fucked out it’s so cute” he said his voice a bit shaky. “Y/n fuck you feel so good” he whined out. Felix brought his hand up to play with your clit as jisung leaned down to kiss you sloppily. His tongue instantly darting into your mouth as he sucked your lip between his teeth. Biting it ever so gently. “Jisung!” You moaned into his mouth. Your hands flung around him nails digging into his back.

“Feel good?” He said between kissed. You nod yes as he continued “gon cum on my cock next beautiful? Please- let me feel it” he moaned out letting his body fall to yours as his thrust were becoming erratic. “Ji- close ah just like that. Felix don’t stop” you barked out at the feeling. Body shaking intensely as your high crashed over your walls now clenching around both of the men. Jisungs body stuttered at the feeling dumping all his cum deep inside of you. It mixing with Felix’s and your owns.

Felix went to grab a rag to help you get all cleaned up the 3 of you sitting there heads still reeling. “How about I order some food?” Felix offers. You nod slowly laying your head down on Jisungs shoulder. “Food sounds perfect.” You said eyes half awake.

——————

Sitting in the kitchen arguing back and forth with Minho you rolled your eyes at him. “Oh whatever” you say getting up to walk out before he’s pinning you against the wall. “Excuse me?” He said eyebrows furrowed looking at you. “Is that how you talk to me now hmm? Has it been that long since I’ve punished you?” He spat brining his hand up to your face to make you look at him. You choked out a small “I” before he was pulling you down to the guest room.

He pushed you to the bed back hitting the soft mattress as he rummaged for something. Your eyes widened as you saw him pulling out the restraints. “Minho- I’m sorry” you stutter out “to late kitten” he said with a smirk “gonna ruin you till you remember who you’re talking too” he said restraining your limbs. He pull down your pants, ripping your shirt off before getting on top of you. He had already pulled his pants down you not realizing it until his cock was staring right at you.

“Open that brat mouth!” He growled making you whimper but quickly doing as he said. He gave you no mercy pushing all his length into you. He roughly fucked your face, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You gagged around his him making him chuckle “you can take it all I know you can kitten” he coo’d. He thrusted in and out of your mouth drool falling down your chin. “Fuck- there’s my kitten” he said in a low groan. His head fell back as he used your mouth mercilessly he could feel his high coming but he didn’t wanna cum just yet. Not before he could burry his cock deep into you.

He pulled out of your mouth with a popping sound, positioning himself at your entrance he looked up at you with hooded eyes. Seeing your face covered in drool made him smirk “such a messy kitten.” He said wiping it away. As he did so he slid his cock ever so slowly into you, hitting deep. He almost always could find the right angel to hit your G-spot. He started to fuck you sloppily knowing his high was already close. He slapped your breast slightly leaving a nice red print before he moved his hand to your throat.

You moaned at the pain, it feeling so pleasurable to you. Your walls clenched around him making him grunt in response “ah kitten gonna cum already?” He teased when you didn’t respond he let another smack to your breast. “I asked you a question” he growled out “uh fuck- yes m’sorry” you replied quickly this time. “Who says you’re allowed to?” He grinned that devilish bunny grin before drilling you hard. Your head was so empty at this point “p-lease” you cried out feeling yourself reaching your high.

He thrusted in a few more times before spilling his cum deep inside of you. His thrusts almost all but stopped making you whine. “Awe did kitten not get to cum? Maybe next time you’ll think twice about picking an argument with me.” He stated as he pulled out of you. The emptiness leaving you a whinny mess “no please-“ you cry out a pout plastering your face. “Don’t worry someone will come help you.” He said as he snapped a picture of you sending it to the group chat titled: Free Use.

“Maybe I’ll come get you when they’re done” he said as he shut the lights off closing the door behind him. You were so frustrated at this point pulling at the straps. A few minutes had passed before you heard someone enter the room it was hyunjin coming to see you. “Hey there my love” he hummed looking over your body. “Whatcha do to make Minho do this?” He said teasing you, he quickly leaned down to kiss your soft lips. “He said I was giving him attitude.”You pouted.

“He’s probably right you do, do that a lot” he chuckled kissing you again “he didn’t let you cum did he?” He asked now making his way to your heated core. You shook your head no looking as the man moved “ah want me to help you love?” He said his voice soft. You nod “please” your voice barely audible at this point. He smiled unzipping his pants he had on, discarding them somewhere in the room. “Gonna help me cum too?” He said softly as he ran the cock head up and down your still soaked folds. “Y-yes” you stuttered out.

“That’s my girl” he said getting his body underneath of you. He angled himself just right before pushing up into you. His arms wrapped around your body pulling you as close as possible before fucking you like som horny rabbit. “Ah hyune” you moaned out his body already twitching at the feeling. “Shit- the picture he sent out was so fucking hot-“ he said pulling you into a sloppy make out session. “I could- could have came just at the sight- fuck y/n you’re so fucking hot” he moaned out his words running together.

He moved his hands down to your chest playing with your nipples as he sucked one breast. Hyunjin was always so passionate and loving during sex. When situations were like this though? He was extra loving. His goals was always to just please you, make you cum first and then finish himself. Normally when you came is when he was letting himself go.

Hyunjin pulled away from the kiss pulling your bottom lip between his teeth with a soft bite. “God- y/n I can’t get over how perfect you are” he said through breaths. He ran a hand down to your clit now making perfect circles as he thrusted sloppily into you. He bottomed out hitting your g-spot swiftly. You both let out sinful moans, the sounds of you both filled the room in such harmony. “Gon cum on my cock pretty? Gon make a mess?”

You nod yes your mind completely and utterly (and literally) fucked. Your mind was so blank from the pleasure and over stimulation your body shook. “That’s it my love cum all over me, I’ll fill this cunt in return hm?” He rambled. He leaned back a bit as he watched you take his cock in and out so nicely. His high coming fast as he felt your walls clench around him. “That’s it- fuck yes- cum for me baby” he groaned.

Your head flung back finally getting the release you so desperately needed. Gushing around his cock he spilled deep into you filling you with all of his. He wrapped his arms around you kissing you lovingly. “You ok love?” He asked trying to still catch his breath. “Mhm” you nodded giving his cheek a soft peck. The door cracked open “she still in there?” A familiar voice asked “I don’t know dude go in and check.” Another voice said. Hyunjin chuckled a bit “I think you have some more hungry men coming for you.”

As moved away from you, your head still in the clouds from him he kissed your forehead. “I’ll tell them to go easy” he said sweetly chuckling as he opened the door “be gentle guys” he said patting the two younger boys. “I will I don’t know about this freak though” Jeongin laughed poking at Seungmin.

“Look at what that bratty little mouth gets you into” Seungmin laughed looking down at you. “Maybe this was her plan?” Jeongin added. The other boy shrugged at his words “probably she’s a little whore” he said leaning down to you. “Didn’t ask Minho about the restraints?” He added. Jeongin nodded “yeah, he said to let her off but to make sure she’s ruined first” he grinned.

Jeongin went to untie your legs Seungmin having other ideas first. He dropped his pants straddling your chest like Minho had before. “Open up pup I got you a bone” he chuckled at his words. Your mind was still in space your mouth opening out of reflex. “Good girl” he said pushing the tip into your mouth. “Don’t you wanna untie her hands first?” Jeongin asked looking up at the other man. He shook his head quickly “no she can keep her hands tied until I have my fun”

Seungmin was using your mouth, fucking into you not as rough as Minho but just about. He was hitting the back of your throat precum dripping from it. He took your head pushing it roughly as he fucked into you. Jeongin on the other hand was leaving sweet kisses to your thighs as he pulled his own pants down. He grinned his cock up and down your folds “you’re such a mess baby, you’ve taken what 2 loads already? You really are gonna be full.” He said his eyes half open.

“By the time we are done she’s gonna be gushing with all of our cum.” He hissed. You moaned against his cock eyes fluttering open and close. The three of you letting out soft moans and grunts. Jeongin started to play with your clit making your back arch and legs shake a bit. You were so overstimulated already you didn’t know if you could take it anymore. “Fuck you’re taking my cock so well such a good little pup hm?” He said sliding his hand down your neck and back up.

“I can’t hold out any longer dude” Jeongin said as he pushed himself into you. You let out a muffled moan around seungmins cock making the man’s head fall backwards in pleasure. “Fuck-“ he spat out. Jeongins movements were fast and sloppy. His thrusts spilling the others’s cum out of you. The sound of his ball slapping your wet cunt filled the air. You were getting used so well.

“Ah fuck baby you’re so fucking wet” jeongin moaned out. “Yeah she likes being out little fuck toy huh? Like us using all your holes like this? Filthy little mutt” Seungmin babble on. You could only reply with a moan in confirmation. When people say your mind goes blank from pleasure this is what they mean. Your head was so empty only thoughts of them. “Fuck dude I’m close, let’s switch” Seungmin asked pulling out of your mouth. Drool ran down your chin, lips swollen from all the abuse to your mouth.

Jeongin nodded switching spots with the other man. Jeongin wiped the drool from you kissing your forehead softly. He removed your hand restrains letting your them fall to your sides. “Wanna open for me baby?” He coo’d. You were about to nod but Seungmin had mercilessly pushed deep into you fast. Bottoming out quick as he hit the back of your walls. Hit cock head hitting your g-spot as he pushed in and out of you. You left out the most desperate whine making jeongin smirk. “Give me your hands baby I’ll keep you here.”

Jeongin interlocked your fingers together as he pushed the tip into your mouth. He let you take your time with him knowing you were already through the wringer today. “My sweet baby, you’re doing so well” he praised you letting go of one of your hands to wipe away a hair.

Seungmin was in his own little world right now as he fucked brain dead into you. He was going stupid, pounding deep into you. “Shit- you gonna cum? You’re clenching so much around me fuck- gonna- agh- not gonna-“ seungmins words ran together as his high was at its peak. “Your pussy is sucking me so good. My dirty little pup gonna take all my cum?” He said tongue hanging out. He started to leave circles on your throbbing clit making your body jolt. As it did you took all of jeongin into your mouth deep. “Ah- fuck-“ he groaned out.

“Y/n!” Seungmin almost screamed out as he dumped all his cum inside of you. You could feel his ball releasing all of him inside of you. “Shit- I’m close” Jeongin said as he listened to you moaning from the feeling of being stuffed again. “Dude I don’t think I can move” Seungmin said his chest heaving. Jeongin nodded pushing in and out of your mouth a bit rougher now chasing his own high. “Fuck- listen keep playing with that perfect clit.” Jeongin demanded which Seungmin happily obliged.

You could feel yourself coming undone and in a matter of seconds your high was crashing around you yet again. This time it was more intense. Your body shook eyes pricked with tears as Jeongin came half way in your mouth the other half on your chest. “Shi- I’m sorry” he mumbled out. All three of you were panting trying to catch your breath. Minho had come to knock on the door “alright guys let y/n have a break” he said softly standing in the doorway now. Jeongin went to grab you a towel as seungmin wrapped his arms around you.

He peppered small kisses to your shoulder “such a good girl, you’re such a good girl” he repeated trying to sooth you from your high. After getting cleaned up and everything the boys laid beside you curled up into their arms. Minho smiled at the scene pulling the covers over you all kissing your head softly. “Get some rest kitten”

——————

You had surprised Chan at the studio with some of his favorite food. You both sat and chatted while you devoured the delicious food. “Chan you still here?” A voice asked as the door opened. “Oh hey y/n! Wait! You brought food and didn’t ask me to come down” he whined. Chan and you both chuckled “don’t be silly Binnie I brought you some too!” You said pulling a bag from the side. “I figured you were here” you said smiling passing him the bag. The three of you sat and chatted before the two men went about their work.

You sat there on your phone just scrolling until you saw something pop up. You giggled a little sending it to Chan who looked at it right away. He turned around with a shit eating grin “first why is this popping up for you and two come take your place princess.” Chan moved his chair back placing one of the hoodies he has draped over the other chair on the floor. Changbin tilted his head “what are you doing?” He asked curiously. Chan doesn’t say anything just shows him the picture. It’s a picture of someone on their knees under the desk with a massive cock in their mouth as the man above does work. The caption reads: Two Kinds of work loads.

Changbin shook his head chuckling a bit. “Y/n sometimes I think your sex drive can out match all of us” he laughed harder. You roll your eyes “so you’re saying you don’t want me to do it to you too?” You said teasingly. He coughed his words getting stuck in his throat “I- that’s not what I said” Chan laughed this time pointing at the other man “you got him all flustered y/n”

You got into position under the desk Chan having his pants down just enough for you to get to his half harden cock. You gulped back saliva your moth watering at the sight. “All mine” you said giving his head soft kisses. “All yours princess” he coo’d back at you. You slowly started to take his length as he tried to focus on working. Changbin had moved his chair close to you looking down at you with hooded eyes. You smiled letting your free hand lay on his bulge that was growing in his pants.

A few minutes went by Bins aching cock tight in his pants. He moved your hand softly to the side before pulling his joggers down his thick cock sprung out dripping with precum already. You moved from sucking Chan to sucking Bin letting your hand play with Chans long veiny cock. Both of the sexy men above you let out small grunts and groans as you had your fun below the table. A bit into this switching back and forth you were back at Chan. His hands reached down pulling your head fully down his cock, making you gag.

He let out the most sinful noise, your already dripping core clenching around nothing at the sound of him. You looked up at him eyes glassed over. He smiled down at you “c’mere princess let me make you feel good.” He said bringing you up as he cupped your face “lay on the couch” he said fondly as he stripped you of your bottoms. He licked his lips as he started down at your core dripping with arousal. “Shit-“ he let out softly before diving into your dripping cunt. He sucked harshly at your clit pushing 2 fingers into you.

He pumped his arm into slowly but deeply, arching his fingers in you hitting all your sweet spots. You left out sweet moans gripping onto his head. You looked over at the other man who was sitting there mouth open as he jerked himself off. “Bin- c’mere” you said voice hot. It took him a moment to realize what you had said before quickly getting up. He kneeled beside you “yes bunny?” He asked sweetly. You open your mouth slightly looking up at him with puppy dog eyes “wanna make you feel good”

Bin was slowly fucking your mouth, he was so gentle and tender as he did so. While he was doing that Chan was getting pussy drunk. He was devouring every inch of your body trembling under him. You pulled away from bin for only a second “close” you groaned out. Chan picked up his pace fucking his hand into you more as he felt your walls clench around them. You gripped onto bins hands making him melt into you as you came undone.

Bin sat on the couch holding you up as he moved you on top of him. His cock poking at your entrance, Chan also positioned himself about you. “Princess if you can’t take us both you tell me ok?” Chan said softly looking down at you. You nodded yes in agreement, you’ve done this before but with a different smaller member. Bin was really girth and putting it together with Chan long cock was, well let’s just say an automatic orgasm.

Bin pushed into you first moving a bit before Chan joined in. Both cocked filled your pussy so full. So so full. “Fucking hell” you moaned out grabbing onto Chan quickly. After they gave you some time to settle that was it. All three of you were so desperate, searching for you won highs as you fucked. The sounds of you pussy being violated like this were hot but not hotter that the sounds of the two men. God. Was it hot. They fucked into you good and deep hitting your g-spot stretching your hole.

You felt your body getting tight again feeling those wires about to snap once more. Your pussy gripped around them so tightly making them moan in response. “Y/n ah fuck close” bin babbled “gonna fill you” he said holding onto you tightly. Chan wasn’t doing much better every movement brought him closer and closers. His body shaking as he pushed deep into you. “Y/n- fuck I love you augh princess I love you so much.” He said with a long groan.

Chan brought down his hand to play with your clit as changbin started to play with your breast. At the stimulation you gasped nails digging into Chans back. Your body shook hard as those wires broke one by one. “Cuming!” You almost screamed out creaming around both of their cocks. The feeling making changbin buck his hips one more time before spilling inside you. Chan road out your high as his crashed, his cock twitching as he dumped himself into.

Changbins muscles gave out as you all tumbled to the couch. You all sat there panting, you feeling all the cum drip down your leg. “Here- princess” Chan breathed out taking tissues to clean you up. “My pretty bunny” bin said kissing your neck. “She did so well hmm?” He asked looking at Chan “she did so very well” he said kissing you cheek.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

[jeondesu]

ೀ⋆ 📚 THE PERFECT PAIR !

── ✧ ˚. ꒰ 𝓹airing ꒱ ˒˓ nerd!han jisung x popular!f!reader 𝓰enre/𝓽ags. college au, fluff, angst (kinda but not rlly), minor profanity, jisung is the cutiest pie ever oml 𝔀ords. 2.3k

[ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆. ] — omg, i just realized i haven’t posted an actual written fic on here in FOREVER that’s crazy, we need to change that. but n e way, this is actually for @sta4, i’m so sorry this took a gazillion years (pls forgive me) and i rlly hope you liked it <3

“Be honest… do you think she noticed?” Jisung looked visibly in distress, his face drained of all color as if he’d just witnessed a paranormal sighting in his own dorm.

“Dude she definitely saw it, you blew it. Big time.” Jeongin states matter-of-factly, as if it were the end all be all.

Jisung slumped backwards, sinking into the mattress, dark brunette strands tumbled haphazardly over the pillow as he stared up at the ceiling. He’d been overthinking and analyzing every little detail for hours since that fleeting encounter you had with him in class this morning. He didn’t want to believe a word his friend was telling him, still latching onto a sliver of hope that you hadn’t took a peek at his laptop screen before he slammed it shut the second you walked up to him.

He grimaced at the thought of you taking note of his Goku wallpaper, everything happened so fast, he wasn’t given much time to react— though he’s almost 99% positive you hadn’t caught sight of it.

You approached him with a confident stride, your head held high, even adding a little wave which he barely registered as being directed towards him. He thought he was hallucinating from being so sleep deprived, staying up all night playing video games might’ve finally took a toll on him— but as he blinks again to snap out of his ‘dream’, you’re still standing right there.

Jisung was more than confused why you of all people would want to talk to him, praying by some miracle you couldn’t detect how much of a nervous wreck he was on the inside, forcing a stiff smile as he tried his best to play it off like he totally wasn’t losing his mind.

The strong scent of your perfume lingered in the air, making it even more of a struggle for him to breathe, let alone speak, but he couldn’t shake off the embarrassment. If you knew how much of a weeb he truly was, he’d probably never show his face around you or on campus ever again.

“Okay, maybe there’s a possibility she may have seen it, but only for a split second! Otherwise, I think I played it cool.” He recants, brushing off his friend’s lack of verbal support, “I was in the middle of an intense game of Tetris and she asked for my notes!”

Jeongin shrugs, “Okay, so..? That doesn’t suddenly make her interested in you.”

“Yeah it does, because she asked me specifically out of everyone else so that’s gotta mean something, right?” He reaffirms, the hopeful tone in his voice laced with sheer desperation.

Jeongin shifts slightly, leaning further into the comfort of his gaming chair, not even bothering to pause his game of League of Legends to entertain his friend’s delusions. He didn’t mean to crush Jisung’s ego with his cynicism but he had to be realistic.

“You sound like those giddy high school girls who just interacted with their crush for the first time.”

Well, he wasn’t lying, he surely did feel like one. Ever since you spoke to him earlier all he could think about was you— nothing else occupied his mind. He couldn’t concentrate on a single thing, couldn’t retain any of the information he read as he studied, or even play League which was his favorite game of all time. He was deeply, utterly infatuated and his thoughts were scattered all over the place.

Jisung sinks his teeth into his lower lip, swallowing an unnecessarily thick lump that’s been sitting in the back of his throat, “Look, all I’m saying is I don’t think I totally blew it. She even winked back at me when she left! She’s into me, I can feel it.”

Jeongin chuckles at his friend’s sudden newfound confidence but still remains unconvinced.

“We’ll see about that tomorrow when she ignores you and forgets that you even existed.”

+

The next day in class, Jisung is doing everything he can to try and maintain a nonchalant demeanor but it wasn’t working— at all. He’d completely thrown his ‘cool’ act out the window the minute he accidentally locked eyes with you, not even noticing how he’s been anxiously bouncing his leg underneath the desk.

He could’ve sworn you were an otherworldly being, he didn’t even feel adequate enough to be sitting in the same room as you.

You had sat a couple rows ahead of him, he preferred to always sit in the back along with Jeongin. He couldn’t help but stare, you were simply nothing short of perfect— lost in a trance as he watched you absentmindedly twirl the pencil you had borrowed from him along with his notes from the day before.

You had jotted down a few things in your spiral notebook, but it seemed as though you weren’t paying much attention to the lecture, copying most of your friend’s notes who sat beside you, every so often you’d be giggling at something she whispered to you— having been shushed by the professor more than once already.

Class went on as usual— it dragged on slower than it normally did, but maybe that was because Jisung kept zoning in and out. He didn’t take very many notes since he already knew most of the material like the back of his hand, but he still pretended to anyway, scribbling nonsense in the margins just to keep his hands busy, not even realizing that he’s wrote your name several times with hearts surrounding it, flipping the page immediately before Jeongin could notice what he’d been mindlessly up to.

Once class was officially over, everyone scrambled out of their seats to rush out of there as quickly as possible. Jeongin had one more class left that took place in ten minutes, bidding his goodbyes before he dashed out the classroom. Jisung slung his bag over his shoulder, getting ready to leave— until you appeared from seemingly out of nowhere, the sweet scent of your perfume infiltrating his senses once again.

Holding your notebooks flat against your chest, your delicate, freshly manicured hand tapped his arm lightly— just enough to get his attention. As if you didn’t already have it given to you on a silver platter.

He froze in place, still recovering from the shock of the events that unfolded from yesterday.

“Hey Jisung, I was wondering if-”

“Yes.” He blurts without hesitation before you could even finish your sentence, instantly regretting everything— oh how he wants to bash his head against the wall repeatedly at this very moment..

You could see the desperation seeping through his pores, but you don’t point it out. It was honestly kind of cute to you and you found it endearing how timid he’d act around you, a stark contrast from most of the frat boys you’d often interact with.

He attempts to save himself by quickly rephrasing his words, only to come off as more socially inept than he already is. “S-sorry.. it’s been a long day for me. Uh, what did you need..?”

You giggled softly, “I was wondering if you could help me with statistics? Unfortunately I’m not doing very well and can’t afford to flunk this semester, so I was hoping you could tutor me?” Your eyes beamed at him as if they held a million galaxies in them.

“Y-yeah, sure. I can help!” He awkwardly responds, adjusting his thick framed glasses by pushing them up with his index and middle finger.

A smile spreads across your face upon hearing that, “oh, awesome!” You weren’t expecting him to readily agree on the spot, but it worked out in your favor perfectly. “So, what days are you free?”

24/7. Every hour. Every minute. Every second. He would simply rearrange his whole life for you.

“Usually I’m free on Tuesdays or Thursdays, sometimes Wednesdays but it depends,” he answers, trying to sound as if he’s been asked this a million times before. “But.. if none of those days don’t work for you, I can work something else out.”

That was a total lie. There was nothing he needed to work out.

“Oh and weekends are kinda iffy for me,” he added.

Yet another lie. He was quite literally always free.

“Tuesdays and Thursdays works out perfectly for me, actually!” You take up his offer right away, “how does tomorrow after school at my place sound?”

You spoke so casually, completely unfazed, as if you weren’t actively flipping his entire world upside down. He simply nodded. Somehow managing not to freak out instead of dropping to his knees in front of you like some lovesick puppy.

“Cool! Wanna exchange numbers?” You calmly suggest while pulling out your phone from the back pocket of your jeans.

Jisung nervously gulped, his throat going dry yet again as he slowly feels himself about to have a mental breakdown.

You wanted his phone number?

Now he’ll really get the last laugh when he rubs it in Jeongin’s face that he’s got one of the prettiest and most popular girls at school’s number. You switch phones and he adds his contact information into yours to which you do the same for him.

Once you gave it back, his heart nearly leaps out of his chest when he sees the contact name you set in his phone: ‘y/n <3’

+

“C’mon y/n, we only have four more problems left.” Jisung is doing all he can to try and motivate you, pointing his finger at the next problem he urged you to solve but you groaned in response.

You invited him over to your dorm while your other roommate would be gone for a couple of hours, opting to study in your room rather than the common area. Your room was on the smaller scale, but still had a warm and cozy atmosphere to it. Movie posters and fairy lights lined the walls of your side, along with dozens of little random trinkets you’ve collected over the years as decoration, and succulent plants sat on the window sill. The vanilla candle you burned added a nice touch, it was calming, tranquil— exactly how Jisung imagined it to be.

“I can’t do this anymore..” you draw out a heavy sigh, looking at the equation as it were in a third language. Math has always been your Achilles heel, it was your least favorite subject and you barely passed by the skin of your teeth each time.

“My brain’s going to explode if I continue this for another minute,” you couldn’t even force yourself to power through, you were beyond over it. Yes, you were being a little overdramatic, but you got the point across— you needed a well deserved break.

His hand accidentally brushed up against yours to grab a colored pencil, “okay, if you really need a break then let’s take one and I’m sorry if I’m overwhelming you in any way. I’ll finish the problem for you and we can stop for a while.” He writes the rest of the equation down on the worksheet and turns to you to hand the colored pencil back, hoping that you don’t notice his flushed exterior.

You lean your arm against the desk, resting the side of your face inside your palm, “can’t believe this is my life now.. studying for my stupid stats exams instead of having fun with my friends.”

Jisung couldn’t help but take some pride in himself for that, sure you may be just using him as a personal tutor but at least he’s getting to spend one on one time with you.

“So you chose studying with me over hanging out with your friends?”

He still couldn’t believe he was even here, he almost had a heart attack when you texted him first that same day you asked to exchange numbers. He would spend minutes contemplating over every little word, every punctuation, and if he wasn’t sure how to respond, he’d simply send you some weird meme that he found while scrolling on Reddit. His phone used to be drier than a desert, but now he’s checking it every 5 seconds in case he gets a new message from you.

“Yeah, I mean I could always see them another time but I refuse to retake this class again over the summer,” you shrugged, “plus you seem pretty cool, I like hanging out with you.”

Was he hearing things correctly? Did one of the most popular girls on campus just say that she likes hanging out with him? He truly felt like he was dreaming— yeah, he had to be dreaming.

“I didn’t think you hung out with guys like me..”

Your brows furrowed, glancing over at him as if he’d just said the most absurd news you’ve ever heard. “And what makes you think that?”

“Uh- I dunno.” He stammered, his eyes darting across the room, looking everywhere but at you.

Curse him for being so damn awkward… and curse you for being the prettiest girl he’s ever laid eyes on.

You couldn’t help but giggle, “I actually think you’re really cute,” you confess, choosing a less subtle approach about expressing your feelings, “you’re nice and super smart too, which most guys aren’t.”

The two of you stayed in silence for what seemed like an eternity before he grew the ability to choke up a response, his ears burning the deepest shade of crimson, “Well.. thank you.”

“I mean it.” You solemnly replied, “Also, I think your Goku wallpaper is really cool.”

So you did notice it after all. But you didn’t care, you took interest in him because he was authentically himself, you liked him exactly for who he is— he’s never pretended to be something that he’s not.

Before you even gave him the opportunity to speak, you decide to lay it all out on the table. Harboring no regrets. “I like you a lot, Jisung.”

He paused, still trying to process everything that’s been thrown at him in a matter of seconds, but he could no longer deny the way he felt. The corners of his lips curled upward, his gummy smile making an eventual appearance, knowing exactly where this leads after he says those final words.

“I really like you too, y/n.”

it’s literally 3 am and i am SO SLEEPY, but i had to finish this for you guys <33 pls lmk if you liked this, likes/comments/reblogs are much appreciated tysm !! ( *ﾉ ▽ﾉ) ✧･ﾟ

[niki-phoria]

pairing: jisung x 8th member!gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: nightmare comfort word count: 598

includes: reader is implied to be shorter than jisung, idk if jisung still sleeps on the couch or not but just go with it, written with male reader in mind

a/n: still debating whether or not i want to start writing for dream so until i make up my mind enjoy a fluffy jisung drabble bc i'm in love with him <33

it feels like a weight has been pressed against your chest. the air has been forced out of your lungs, leaving you desperately gasping for air when you’re finally released from the monsters plaguing your own head. a thin layer of sweat covers most of your skin - a physical reminder of the discomfort that still lingers.

you push the covers off of your body before glancing over at where renjun is still peacefully sleeping on the bed across from you. the familiar sight brings you a small amount of comfort, though you find yourself longing for something else. someone else. 

the floor feels cool against your bare feet as you swing your legs off of the side of the bed. you shake off the last of your doubts as you stand up, quietly making your way over to your bedroom door and disappearing from the room.

the trek through your hallway is a short one. you run your fingers along the wall beside you as you carefully make your way through the dorm, careful not to trip on anything that could be unexpectedly in your path. 

you find jisung laying on the couch, wrapped up in a thick blanket. despite his overly long limbs being curled up slightly to accommodate for the small amount of space, his limbs sometimes slip off of the edges. 

he stirs when you softly chuckle at the sight, rolling over to flip onto his side. “y/n?” jisung mumbles. blinking up at you through tired eyes he watches as you cautiously take another step across the hardwood floor in his direction. your steps are feather-light - almost as if you’re worried of disturbing him from his rest. 

jisung props himself up on his elbow, squinting at you in the darkness. despite the dim lighting, he can recognize the loose fit of a t-shirt you must’ve stolen from him. 

“come here,” he gestures. the blanket that had previously been wrapped around his body pools around his lap as he outstretches his arms towards you. catching your bottom lip between your teeth, you quickly make your way over to the couch. jisung shifts to the side before all but pulling you down so you’re sitting down on the cushions beside him. 

his hands feel warm against your skin as jisung brushes his fingertips against your cheek. you coil into his touch, eyes fluttering shut at the desperately needed comfort. “what’s wrong?” he whispers. his voice has dropped dramatically, barely audible despite the silence. 

“nothing. just a… stupid nightmare.” 

a slight frown tugs at the corners of jisung’s lips. he reaches out with his left hand, gently tugging your body even closer towards him. you’re quick to reciprocate, wrapping your own arms around his waist and leaning your head against his shoulder. 

you can feel the hesitation in each of jisung’s movements as he cautiously begins to rub a comforting hand against your back. you find yourself chasing after his warmth almost unconsciously - chasing after the safety that always seems to come with being wrapped up in his arms. 

a few comfortable minutes of silence pass before jisung speaks again. his voice is soft as it cuts through the quiet - the words quietly mumbled into the crook of your neck. “do you want to talk about it?” 

“no,” you murmur, relaxing further against his touch. sleepiness slowly begins to creep up on you once again as your eyes slowly begin to flutter closed. “just wanna stay with you. if that’s okay.” 

“of course it is,” he smiles, leaning down to press a chaste kiss against your forehead. 

if you want to support me please consider leaving a like, comment, or rebloging !! and if you enjoyed this fic check out my txt or enha works :))

[luvyeni]

[ req? yes / no ]

𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗘 ──────── after you brought a new bikini for your trip jisung urges you that if it hurts so much … take it off.

( 対 ) park jisung + fem. reader wc. 0.5k genre · contains! public sex , pool sex , unprotected sex mature content. / back to library

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 yeni’s note .ᐟ i was so shocked seeing this .. i was like jisung park? jisung park who barely shows skin😭

huffing as you made your way to the heated pool, jisung was already swimming around , the sun shining on his bare back. “what’s wrong?”

you sat down on the edge of the pool; the boy swimming up to you, resting his arms on your thighs. “i bought the wrong sized bathing suit, this one is like three sizes too small.” you sighed , tugging at the bikini top. “my boobs are falling out.”

he looked at the top; with a smirk on his face. “i’m surely not complaining.” you scoffed , he chuckled softly. “ji , i’m serious, it's uncomfortable.” you whined annoyed , the boy wrapped his arms around your waist. “then take it off if it’s uncomfortable.” he said , the water dripping from his hair onto your legs. “i’m not gonna take it off jisung.” he winced hearing his full name. “we’re outside.”

“in a private space; no one can see you.” he reassured. “if you want to take it off.” his arms reaching up to the strings , pulling at it so it unraveled. “take it off.” biting his lip as you slowly took it off letting it fall , your boobs falling perfectly in his eyes. “good girl.” he picked you up , guiding you into the water , wrapping your legs around his waist. “you’re so pretty.”

“you’re enjoying this too much.” jisung smiled against your neck , sucking little red marks on your skin. “of course i am , i’m on vacation with my hot girlfriend who is topless in a pool with the sun beaming on her pretty body; i could die after this vacation and i would be okay with it.” you rolled your eyes. “so dramatic.”

his hand that was on your waist , traveling down where you were connected, your hips bucking up. “i’m so hard right now.” he whispered , moving your bikini bottoms to the side. “then stop talking and fuck me.” he kissed your lips; pulling his shorts down enough to pull his hard cock out. “fuck ji.” you whined. “hurry up and put it in.”

both of you moaning as he slowly pushed himself inside you. “fuck you feel so good.” he groaned , your arms wrapped around his neck as he held you tightly , fucking up into you. “ji , fu-fuck , fuck go faster.”

he pushed you against the edge of the pool , rutting his hips faster, his cock head kissing your gspot repeatedly , you were moaning loudly; the sweet was private but people could definitely hear what you two were doing — but with the way jisung was fucking you, his lips wrapped around one of your buds , his big hand massaging your other boob; you really couldn’t care. “fuck ji , ji i’m gonna cum !” you shrieked , your manicured nails digging into his wet skin. “fuck!”

“cum , cum all over my cock.” he groaned , you tightened around him , head thrown back as you came. “oh fuck.” he gasped. “fuck that’s it i’m gonna cum.” he groaned. “fuck i’m cumming.” pressing his lips against yours as his cock twitched , shooting ropes of cum into you , he let out a loud sigh , riding his high. “fuck i love you so much.” his forehead was pressed against yours. “i love you too ji.”

he stayed inside you; holding your body up as he floated around the pool. “i don’t want to go back home , wanna stay here with you forever.” he said , smiling, cradling his cheek in your hand. “we still have 2 days left.” you said , he smiled nodding.

“guess we’ll just have to make the bed of it.”

©️MAZEOFYENI

[nitadllyss]

The wrong pill.

Plot: Han takes a pill for his training, not realizing it’s viagra—let alone on the day he was going to see you.

Genre:smut, nsfw, Erotic Romance, PWP.

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, use of Viagra, sex under its influence, oral sex (m!receiving), no condom use, semen, penetration (m/f), praise, etc.

----------------------------

Han had been fighting hard with the staff to be able to show off his body and tattoos. For this reason, he was preparing physically with great dedication. He never skipped a day at the gym, and it was obvious how much more muscular he had gotten.

He was now getting ready to train with Changbin. They were at his house, since Han had stayed over the night before; it had been too late for him to return home. To prepare his pre-workout shake, he used Changbin's stuff.

"Where do you have the creatine?" Han asked while rummaging through the drawer where Changbin kept his supplements.

"They are the transparent capsules" Changbin answered, focused on making his own pre-workout shake.

Han took his shake followed by the corresponding pills.

Everything was going well during the training. He was really satisfied with the results he was getting. For him, gaining muscle was easier, so in a short time he could already notice a noticeable difference.

As he was training, his alarm went off to remind him to take his intra-workout pill. He was committed to getting good and fast results, so he never missed a dose of vitamins or supplements.

“Hey, Bin, do you have any intra-workout pills?” Han asked, a little worried when he realized he hadn’t brought any.

“I think there’s L-Carnitine in my bag. Check it out and take one,” Changbin said, pointing to his gym bag.

Han walked over, opened the bag, and saw a mess of pills. Changbin definitely needed to be more organized. He assumed it was one of the white capsules, so he wasn’t too careful when taking one.

About 40 minutes later, after finishing his workout, he headed home. He was excited because he would see you today. They were having a sleepover. They weren’t a couple or anything, just best friends… although Han had been in love with you forever.

As he arrived, he started to feel strange. He was sweatier than usual, and as he looked in the mirror, he noticed his neck and ears were red. He brushed it off and went to take a shower, making sure he looked good for when you arrived.

After getting ready, however, he noticed that his face was still red, his heart was racing, and most worryingly… he had an erection. And it wasn't a regular one.

He didn't understand why, but his erection was strong and persistent.

Just as he was trying to do something to disguise it, he heard a knock on the door. He felt a chill in his chest and his nervousness increased.

When he opened it, there you were, looking cute and radiant as always. But something was different. He no longer noticed how pretty your makeup or hair looked. He could only focus his attention on how your breasts stood out under the neckline of your blouse and how juicy your thighs looked under your skirt.

"Hey!" you greeted, smiling, and went over to hug him, like you always did.

"Hey, babe" he replied playfully, using the nickname he used to call you.

You smiled at him and walked into his house.

"I'm sorry if I look all dressed up, I just got back from an outing with friends. Could you lend me some comfortable clothes to sleep in?"

He felt his erection throb as he heard that. Just imagining you in his clothes was driving him crazy.

"Ah… yeah, yeah, I'll be right back," he stammered, hurrying to his room. He looked for one of his shirts and, upon returning, handed it to you.

You changed without a problem, leaving you only with the shorts that you were wearing under your skirt.

"Thanks, Ji," you said, turning around to show him how his clothes looked on you.

Was he drooling? He wasn't sure, but he was literally mesmerized by the way your breasts were poking out from under his shirt. He was going to lose control.

"Come on, let's find the movie," you said, sitting next to him on the couch and resting your head on his shoulder as he browsed through the options.

You picked a horror movie, his favorites. Han hoped it would distract him from you, but every time you freaked out and came closer, his erection throbbed harder. It had even started to hurt.

After a while, you went to the bathroom. When you came back, you froze.

Han was on the couch, rubbing the bulge in his pants, panting softly.

"Ha-Han?" you asked, approaching him cautiously. It was then that you noticed the wet spot on his clothes.

"Mmh… I'm s-sorry…" he mumbled, throwing his head back, unable to keep his hands away from his crotch.

"Han, wtf?", you said, a bit embarrassed, not fully understanding the situation.

"Please don't be mad… I don't know what's wrong with me, but it hurts so much…" he whispered with his eyes closed, wishing the earth would swallow him up.

Just then his cell phone rang. It was Changbin.

"Bro, I think you took one of my viagra pills. That, or one went missing… I hope it doesn't cause you too much trouble."

"Are you kidding me?" Han almost screamed. "Why the hell would you have that in your bag? Ahg, it would kill you!" He hung up the call, frustrated.

Now everything made sense. At least for him.

You, on the other hand, were still standing in front of him, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

Han looked up and let out a gasp as he watched you fix your eyes on his erection. His face flushed with embarrassment and he quickly placed a cushion on his lap.

"I'm so sorry..." he whispered, feeling like crying from both the shame and the pain in his pants.

"Don't worry... I'll leave so you can, uh... fix that..." you said, looking away, your cheeks flushing.

"Please... stay..." he asked almost in a plea.

You hesitated for a second, but seeing him like this, you couldn't help but feel a little sorry. And what was worse... you felt the wetness in your underwear since you noticed his bulge.

Han grunted as he felt you approach and pressed the cushion harder against himself.

“Does it hurt?” you asked, curious. You didn’t know if his gasps were from pain or pleasure.

“A lot…” he closed his eyes, rubbing himself more desperately.

You bit your lip. You hesitated for a moment before speaking.

"Would you...want me to help you?"

Han felt his breath hitch.

“You don’t have to… I don’t want you to be uncomfortable…” but his hips contradicted his words. Not to mention the way his cock thrashed around in his pants.

But instead of answering, you placed a hand on top of his and pulled the cushion off his lap.

“I want to do it,” you whispered before leaning in and devouring his lips.

You could feel him holding back in the kiss, making hesitant movements, so you went deeper, mixing your tongues and sitting on top of his lap.

He couldn't help but growl into your mouth, the firmness with which he held your hips applying pressure having that slight relief that at the same time made him thirsty for more.

They got lost in the messy kiss, Han was already more confident and in control of the situation. As he pulled away he bit your lower lip in an attempt to chase you.

"Han~" you began to move your hips in circles, enjoying how his body reacted, feeling him so firm under you.

Han was so lost, he felt very high.

He was drowning in your neck, licking and biting every trace of visible skin.

"Han wait" you pulled away from the addictive sensation of his hot and wet tongue on your skin.

"Do you want to stop?" He said a little worried and disappointed, leaving a little space.

"No, I just want to make you feel good" you smiled and gave him a chaste kiss leaving him stunned.

You climbed off his lap and knelt in front of him.

You gave his thigh a caress before pulling down his fly. Seeing the wet spot on his underwear made your mouth water. You gave his clothed cock a kiss and then a lick.

Han's hands clenching the couch, his white knuckles trying not to fuck your mouth madly.

You pulled his underwear down along with his pants to his ankles and felt the saliva pooling in your mouth.

His tanned cock with its red head very sensitive. It was shiny from the precum that bathed it excessively.

With your thumb you touched the slit of his head probing a little. You smiled at the gasps from him.

"Ahh~ Y/N don't play" he clenched his jaw a bit desperately.

You gave him a kitten lick along his length and then swirled around his tip, you felt that with so little he was close to his release.

You started jerking him off with your hands, mixing your licks and squeezes.

Han was literally struggling not to cum and that started to bother you. You took him in your mouth, sucking lightly and making a mess of saliva and his fluids.

“You look so cute like this,” he said, totally pleased by the way your chin was disgustingly dripping with saliva. His duality made you clench your legs, minutes ago he was all whiny begging like a bitch and the tone he let out was so different.

You let out a moan and took him deeper, making yourself gag.

"Mmh you like being good for me? I'm sure you were drooling seeing me hard" he put a hand on your head, gathering your hair in a handful.

You rolled your eyes and moaned again, not quite understanding if it was his tone that caused it or the simple fact of being him.

"You feel so fucking good, you have a very skilled little mouth" he threw his head back growling at your gasps.

Determined to make him cum you forced your poor throat accompanying with your hands squeezing and massaging his balls.

You felt his cock move in your mouth.

"Mmh Y/N w-wait" he tried to stop your movements, but you only stood firmer, watching him stagger was everything.

Out of instinct he pressed your head towards him, betrayed by his pleasure seeking body.

Then after a few more seconds he cum in your mouth with many thick loads straight to your throat.

The growl followed by a pornographic moan was beautiful. He threw his head back and let go of your head.

"Was it good?" You said smiling licking your cum stained corners.

"It was literally amazing" he smirked and covering his eyes with his arm.

"Thanks Y/N" he said looking at you and caressing your cheek with his thumb.

You snuggled into his hand lovingly until you saw him frown.

"What? You're still hard? How is that possible" you said stunned, he was still rock hard AFTER CUMMING.

"It's not really something I can help" he grimaced.

"It's a good thing" you said standing up.

"Hmm?" Han said confused looking at you.

"It would really be a shame if you left me wanting to fuck, I really appreciate that pill" you said biting your lip and pulling down your shorts along with your underwear.

Han followed your movements attentively, as if he was bewitched by your charm. Seeing your underwear on the floor he let out a gasp at the visible stain of arousal you had left.

"You're needy aren't you?" He smiled shamelessly as if it wasn't his cock that had been erect for over an hour.

He took off his shirt showing his tattoos, you had already seen them, but seeing them together with his needy cock is something different.

You followed his steps and undressed completely, he stretched out his hand, in a quick movement he left you on your knees on the couch, your face against the couch and your ass completely exposed to his mercy.

"I promise that after this I will take the time to adore you as you deserve" he said in your ear followed by a kiss on your cheek.

You felt your heart flutter.

"But now I'm going to use you however I want" he ran his tongue disgustingly across your cheek, dirtyly erasing the tender kiss he had left.

He took your moan as consent and positioned himself behind you.

"So cute, willing to help me even if she has to give me her body" he smacked your ass with his hard cock making you gasp. He bit his lip to stop himself from moaning.

He spit on your entrance and without preparation pushed the tip in stretching you deliciously.

You both let out a gasp, the desire that was there making the pleasure double.

"You're so tight" he pushed himself in a little further and you could only moan begging for him to bottom out.

When he reached his base you arched your back and threw your head back.

"You're being so good for me" he began to give slow but deep thrusts.

"You don't know how many times I masturbated imagining having you like this for me" he growled.

In response you moaned and clenched around him.

He put his hand on your head pushing hard against the couch and began to penetrate you faster and harder.

You just moaned with each thrust totally lost in the way you felt every inch of his cock in your insides, the pain of his grip on your head making it even more pleasurable. You were completely at his mercy.

He put his other hand on your hip, helping him thrust more violently, moaning and grunting at how close his climax felt.

And before he had a chance to pull out of you, he cum deeply.

Feeling his hot cum fill you and his grunt you joined him in the climax moaning and clenching yourself choking his member against your rubbery walls now painted white.

You were so exhausted you could only gasp waiting for him to pull out.

He was still buried deep appreciating the warmth of your shared orgasms.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't want to..." he said, still without leaving you.

It's like his brain works, but his body has control.

"Calm down, actually, I liked it" you said trying to get over the climb.

He withdrew from you slowly, making you feel every inch you were losing. When he pulled out completely he admired your stretched entrance dripping with your mixed fluids.

"Are you okay?" He came back to reality and approached your face to check.

" It was so good" you said smiling and a bit sleepy "so you masturbated thinking about me? That's interesting" you laughed mockingly.

"Shut up, there's no need to repeat that" he was blushing as if you hadn't fucked two minutes ago.

You lay down and looked at him a little worried about what would happen to you after that.

"Can we leave that talk for later?" Literally as if he had read your thoughts.

"What needs to be done now?" You said, not understanding why he was putting off the talk.

You then saw him turn bright red and look down at his cock. He was hard again.

This was going to be a long sleepover.

----------------------------

English is not my first language, so if you see a mistake, please let me know 🙏🏻.

I need more practice writing smuts :((

I have several Chan fics waiting to be reviewed before posting 🤭.

If you have any requests, send them💞.