claudaze

[claudaze]

mdni +18. [ dubcon ]ㅤㅤeunseok x reader x sungchanㅤ:ㅤafter rejecting eunseok, you become the obsession of both him and his dark magic-using friend, sungchan — and if they can’t have you alone, they’ll take you together ;)

you were supposed to fall for him, not in a pleading, love-struck kind of way — no, not for a boy like him. not for someone like eunseok, who’s always had the power of quiet seduction, the smirk that says “I know you want me,” and the cruel habit of being right about it.

he doesn’t try. he doesn’t chase, girls come to him, they stay, they beg, except you didn’t. you gave him your number out of politeness. your smile was sweet, but your voice was careful and measured.

and when he asked you out the next day, low voice, leaning close, lips brushing the shell of your ear — you tilted your head and told him no. just like that. no. no one’s ever told him that before. he thought it was a joke, a power play, a test. it wasn’t. you walked away like he didn’t matter.

something inside him split. not in a violent way. it wasn’t rage, he didn’t break anything, he didn’t scream, but his skin buzzed for days. his head wouldn’t stop replaying the sound of your voice, your smile — your disinterest.

the word no wrapped in lace, tucked into the corner of your lips like you’d kissed the denial before you gave it to him. it made him sick. not because he hated it, but because he wanted it again.he wanted it to unravel. he wanted to watch it crumble. he wanted to watch you come undone — by him.

he tried everything, the glances, the casual touches, the charming laugh that always worked. you kept smiling, kept laughing, but never leaned in the way everyone else did. your warmth didn’t stick to your eyes when you looked at him. you treated him like a person. not a god. he hated it. he loved it. he lost sleep over it.

and when the madness started to take hold, when the idea of you stopped being a thought and became a need, he reached out to the only person who might understand.

sungchan. oh sungchan. he was always quiet about his obsession. eunseok had noticed it once or twice, the way sungchan’s gaze lingered when you left the room, the way he always seemed to know where you were, what you liked, and what made you laugh. he never said it aloud. not even once.

but when eunseok said your name, dropped it like it was a secret he couldn’t keep anymore, sungchan looked at him like he’d just trespassed.

“…her?” a pause. a flicker of something ancient in his eyes, eunseok didn’t know then what it meant, not fully.

but sungchan smiled after a long moment — slow, crooked, almost sad. “you can’t have her.” eunseok’s voice was steady. “then help me take her.”

there’s a book sungchan keeps hidden. not in his room, not in a drawer — but buried, behind an old shed, locked in a carved box made of something that isn’t quite wood. it smells like ash when he opens it. it hums under your name. it’s alive. he started studying it because of you. the magic inside it doesn’t do silly things like charms or levitation.

it sinks teeth into memory. it rearranges desire. it binds. you’re not supposed to use it on someone who hasn’t invited it. it’s not clean, it stains things. but sungchan never cared about rules. and now eunseok doesn’t either. not when it comes to you.

you don’t notice anything, at first. why would you?you’ve always liked the sound of their voices. always found yourself watching their hands, wondering what they’d feel like. it was just passing curiosity, right? you were just bored.

but lately.. it sticks. you see eunseok in your dreams — not doing anything, just watching, arms folded. smiling like he knows everything you’re thinking. he never touches you, but you wake up wet anyway.

and sungchan — he starts appearing when you’re alone. at the library. in the hallway. his voice sounds like it’s layered, like he’s speaking in two tongues. you don’t remember giving them a piece of you, but they have it now. and they’re ready to collect.

it’s not an ambush, they waited. they’re patient, they watch you wear yourself thin wondering why you’re always thinking about them, why you can’t stop imagining them, why your body gets hot when you hear their names. they give it time — until your walls start to flicker, and then they come.

it’s dark when you wake up. there’s pressure on your wrists, velvet-soft rope tied to the headboard, firm but not cruel. your skin tingles. the room smells faintly of something sharp, incense and burnt air.

“you’re awake.” it’s eunseok. close. on your left. sungchan’s already at your side, fingers smoothing down your thigh like it’s the most natural thing in the world. his eyes glow in the dim light, silver threaded with something darker.

“don’t scream,” he murmurs. “you won’t want to.”

“we won’t hurt you,” eunseok says, lips grazing your jaw. “we love you too much for that.” you try to speak — to ask what this is, why you’re here — but nothing comes out.

your voice is gone, melted away by something warm and invisible. “shh,” sungchan whispers. “we’ve been patient.”

“you need this,” eunseok breathes against your skin. “don’t you?” and maybe it’s the magic. maybe it’s the madness. but your thighs are already pressing together.

your body shouldn't feel like this. tied up, pinned down — you should be scared. you should be screaming. but instead your thighs are aching, your breath is shallow, and there's something coiling in your stomach that has no name. something low and hot and hungry.

eunseok brushes hair away from your face with reverence, his touch is delicate, devoted even. like you’re holy, like he’s worshipping you, but behind his eyes, there’s no innocence. there never was. just hunger wrapped in silk. just obsession dressed up as affection.

his hand trails down your collarbone, then pauses — thumb barely grazing the edge of your bra. he’s watching you so intently it makes your skin burn.

“say stop,” he murmurs, “and we’ll stop.” but you can’t. not because you’re forced. not even because of the spell. you don’t want to. sungchan is watching you too — eyes low, half-lidded, lips parted like he’s trying not to ruin you too fast. you catch the shape of his hands on your thighs. long fingers inching closer to where your body is already pulsing, already desperate.

you want to beg. you can’t form the words. and they love that. eunseok presses a kiss to your neck — slow, open-mouthed. he moves downward, kissing along your chest like he’s savoring every inch. and when he finally pulls your bra down, he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years. “she’s so fucking pretty,” he mutters, more to sungchan than to you.

sungchan hums low in his throat, his fingers slip under your panties. stroke. and god — he’s already got you dripping. “mm,” he whispers, “you’re soaked.” you want to close your legs, but he keeps them spread. easily. his strength is effortless. his magic pulses under his skin.

when he slides two fingers inside, it feels like he’s touching the part of you that’s been waiting for this since the first time he said your name. eunseok moves to your chest — his tongue circles your nipple, slow and warm, while sungchan curls his fingers up inside you.you moan — raw and helpless — and that sound ruins both of them.

“again,” eunseok breathes. “say it again, angel,” sungchan murmurs. “let us hear how much you want it.” you whimper when sungchan twists his fingers just right, and eunseok presses his lips back to your breast, sucking softly, almost sweetly, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your pleasure.

you tried to speak, not to stop them — but to ask for more. the ropes are warm now, thrumming against your skin like they're alive. like they want you to give in. you tug at them, not to escape, just to feel the resistance. it makes you wetter. “please—” it comes out hoarse. eunseok looks up at you, flushed and smiling. “what was that, baby?”

“use your words,” sungchan says, now teasing your clit with slow circles, the pads of his fingers wet with you. “you know how.” you swallow hard. whine through your teeth. “I want—”

“us?” eunseok finishes. “you want both of us, don’t you?”you nod. violently. shamefully.but that’s not good enough. “say it,” sungchan orders. his voice is velvet and sin. “I want both of you,” you gasp. “please—please, I want—” your voice breaks when sungchan sinks back in — and eunseok kisses you like he’s claiming your mouth, your mind, your soul.

you’ve never been touched like this, not worshipped, not owned. not shared by men who want every inch of you burned into their bones.

you don’t even register the moment you’re untied. your hands fall limp at your sides. your body is so warm it feels like you’re floating. eunseok is already lining himself up between your legs, his cock thick, leaking, twitching with restraint. he looks like he might lose it the second he’s inside you. but he doesn’t rush, he cups your face, leans in, nose brushing yours.

“i’m never letting you go,” he whispers, and then he pushes in. he groans, loud, unfiltered. the sound is almost pained. you’re soaked, but still tight, too tight for how deep he goes. it’s overwhelming. electric. like your body has been waiting for him and only him.

“fuck, you feel unreal,” he chokes out. “so warm—so soft—” sungchan is beside you, stroking himself slowly, watching your mouth twitch, your breath catch. his lips find your shoulder, your throat. he licks your skin like he’s tasting something forbidden.

“you look ruined,” he breathes. “just like we imagined.”you don’t even have the strength to answer.eunseok moves slowly — long, deep thrusts that drag against your walls. his rhythm is patient. savoring. every movement is a promise.

every moan is a vow. mine. ours. sungchan kisses you. open-mouthed. tongue slipping between your lips like it belongs there.and when eunseok groans your name — when your body starts to shake around him — sungchan slips behind you, pulling you upright against his chest, arms around your waist as eunseok fucks you from below.

you’re cradled between them. touched from every angle. worshipped and ruined and kept. “you’re ours now,” sungchan whispers in your ear as you start to fall apart. “and we’ll never let you forget it.”

[claudaze]

omg hi. it’s been like 12 years ( okay 12 days but still ) since I last posted anything here 😭 life’s been crazy, I’ve been juggling school stuff + mainly pouring all my energy into this one fic I’m working on rn ( she’s driving me insane in the best way tbh )

but in the meantime .. my other drafts have just been rotting away in the dark LMAO. so I thought, why not post something ?? something finished ( ish ), fun ( dark mwehehe ), and kinda insane ( very )

ALSO !! to everyone rotting in my inbox ( yes I see you .. the asks, the msgs, the reqs ) — I am working on them okay I pinky swear 🤞🏻 I’m slow but I haven’t forgotten 🫶🏻

pls enjoy whatever I might post after this. I misssseeed posting smmm :( okay that’s it bye

[claudaze]

hi clau 🥴 (attempts to flirt and fails)

hi brie 🤭 ( blushes immediately because even your failed flirting makes my heart do backflips )

[claudaze]

oh my gosh clau where did you go...

nothing beats a jet2 holiday! ☺️ and right now you can save £50 per person! 😜 that’s £200 off for a family of four. 😰 we’ve got millions of free child place holidays available with 22 kg of baggage included. 🤗 but now with jet2 holidays! package holidays you can trust. 🙂‍↕️ atol protected. 👍🏻

[claudaze]

claudette. honestly if WE get one more group project I might start diagnosing our group members with stockholm syndrome bc this is borderline trauma

elowen. wen. riko. riri. koko. same. i’m just trying to survive this semester without becoming a case study myself 🙏🏻 we deserve honorary phd in emotional endurance loooooooooaoaoaol

[claudaze]

You seem like the perfect person to submit this to.. softdom!renjun and sub!reader where reader confesses innocently she wants to have his babies and it just ends up being the most wholesome soft love making ever😢

━━━𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗦, 𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗣𝗟𝗘𝗧𝗘𝗟𝗬 ⤿ ( 黄仁俊 )

cw. ⋮ smut .ᐟ breeding kink, praise, creampiiie, he makes love to u !! gentle ㅤdom renjun supremacy. mdni. ﾒ 紀要

���作者 : okay okay listen.. i know this took forever and somehow ended up short after all that build-up LMAOO 😭 BUT softdom!renjun makes my brain melt into applesauce so i had to take my time <3 pls imagine him rubbing ur tummy after and whispering “my pretty mama” uGHGHHG ok i’m done bye 🏃‍♀️💨

it’s raining again, your house smells like chamomile and clean laundry, and the only light in the room is coming from the single warm-toned lamp in the corner, painting everything in soft gold and honeyed shadows.

you’re sitting between renjun’s legs, his back propped against the headboard, both of you under the same oversized throw blanket. your head rests against his chest, his hoodie swallowing your frame.

his fingers draw slow, sleepy shapes into your thigh as some old ghibli movie plays muted in the background. neither of you are paying attention to it anymore — not really.

not when everything already feels so.. still. sacred. like if either of you moved too fast, you’d scare away whatever spell has settled between you.

he smells like detergent and skin and the faintest trace of the cologne you gave him last christmas. the one he swears he only wears when he misses you — even though you live together now. even though you’re never apart long enough to miss each other properly.

it’s quiet, in that way only two people in love can share. like the silence has become its own language. like your breath rising and falling in tandem is the only conversation that matters.

and then you say it. not on purpose, not with planning, not even with hesitation.

“i wanna have your babies someday.”

and the thing is — you don’t even realize you said it out loud. not until you feel him still behind you. not until his fingers go still on your leg, his breath catching quietly somewhere just above your head.

you blink, frozen. your heart lurches, like maybe you said too much. maybe you crossed some invisible line between softness and too much softness. between intimacy and the kind of vulnerability that makes people flinch.

"what did you say?" he asks, but not in the way that makes you panic. he sounds calm. careful. like he heard you but wants to be sure he heard you right.

your fingers curl into the fabric of his hoodie. you could lie. laugh it off. pretend you were talking about something from the movie or a line from a podcast or — anything else.

but you don’t want to lie. not to him. not now. so instead, you breathe out quietly. let your voice stay small.

“i said.. i want to have your babies someday.”

and then softer, more to yourself than to him :

“i think about it sometimes. not on purpose. it just.. it just happens.”

you can feel the heat blooming in your cheeks like secondhand embarrassment, even though there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. but it feels too intimate, too exposed. like you just handed him your entire heart in one soft whisper.

you wait for him to laugh. to shift. to say something casual to bring the mood back to normal. but instea, he exhales. and then tightens his arms around you.

"fuck," he says under his breath. not because he’s frustrated—but because it hit him like a wave he wasn’t ready for. “baby..”

you tilt your head slightly, just enough to glance up at him from where you’re resting. his lips are parted. his eyes are soft in that way they get when he’s overwhelmed by how much he loves you. like he’s soaking in the moment, unsure if it’s even real.

“say that again,” he whispers.

you blink. “what?”

“that you want to have my babies.”

you bite your lip. cheeks burning. but you say it again anyway.

"i want to have your babies, renjun."

and this time, you say it with intention. not just a confession, but a truth. one that’s been sitting in your chest quietly for months, wrapped in daydreams and little secret smiles during coffee runs and grocery shopping.

every time you see him crouch down to tie a kid’s shoe or press a sleepy kiss to your shoulder when you’re cooking. every time he reaches for you in the middle of the night like his body forgets how to be without yours.

it isn’t about the idea of a child — it’s about him. you want him to be the father of your kids.

you want the kind of life where you’re brushing your teeth side by side and arguing about who forgot to buy milk, where you’re folding tiny socks together on a sunday morning and he’s reading bedtime stories on the floor while your toddler clings to his hoodie sleeves.

you want his laugh to echo through the rooms of a home you build together. you want all of him, and all the quiet, beautiful things he’s never known he deserves.

and right now — you just want him to know that. he exhales again. his hand slides up your spine, curling into the back of your neck, grounding you.

“you’d be such a good mama,” he murmurs. “i think about that too sometimes.”

you look up at him, blinking. he smiles — small and kind and so full of emotion it makes your throat tighten.

“like… i’ll be at work, or drawing, or in the car.. and my brain just goes there. like, damn. i could come home to her. to our baby. i could have a home full of both of them.”

his voice is rough now. not with arousal — but with emotion. like he’s holding it together by a thread.

“i think about you sitting by the window, holding them,” he says, his thumb brushing your jaw. “i think about kissing you while they nap in the other room. about coming home with toys you said not to buy and watching you pretend to be mad.”

you laugh softly — because of course he would. and then you feel it. his hand, resting gently over your stomach.

“sometimes i think about you like this,” he says. “just like this. laying on me. full with our baby. glowing. soft.”

you can’t breathe. not really. not with how he’s looking at you. not with the weight of his hand and the warmth in his voice.

“you’d be so good to them,” he whispers. “you’re already so good to me.”

you turn toward him fully now, sitting up, straddling his lap under the blanket. your hands find his cheeks, holding his face like he’s something delicate.

“i’d want it to be you,” you say. “it’s always been you.”

his eyes shine. “can i—?” he starts, and stops. you know what he’s asking. you see it in his expression. you nodded and he kisses you.

not rushed. not hungry. but like it means something. like every inch of his mouth belongs to yours. like he’s sealing a promise into your skin.

the kiss deepens, slow and syrupy, and he lets his hands roam carefully — down your back, under your shirt, until his palms are flat against your spine and you’re chest-to-chest, heartbeat to heartbeat.

you whimper softly against his mouth, and he swallows it with a sigh.

“let me make love to you,” he whispers. “please.” you nodded again, more breathless this time. and just like that — the spell shifts. the warmth of the room turns heavier. the silence deepens.

your bodies press closer, the blanket slipping away as he lays you back against the pillows. he kisses you again, then lower. and lower. and the world narrows to the sound of your name on his lips.

he lowers his mouth to your skin with such tenderness it makes your heart flutter — soft, featherlight kisses trailing from your jawline down to the hollow of your throat.

each press of his lips feels like a quiet vow, like he’s memorizing every inch of you, cherishing you without rush or demand. his breath fans over your skin, warm and steady, and the way he tilts his head just so to catch your scent makes you dizzy in the best way.

his hands move with reverence, slow and deliberate, fingers gliding over your ribs and sides like he’s tracing a map of your body, learning the curves and hollows that make you uniquely you.

when he reaches your breasts, his touch shifts just slightly, still soft, but with an undeniable possessiveness. his palms cup them gently, thumbs brushing over your nipples with the kind of care that makes your breath hitch.

he doesn’t rush, he doesn’t squeeze or pinch, he simply worships, worships the softness, the heat, the way your skin flushes under his touch.

you feel the delicate ache building in your chest — the way he praises you without words, just in the way his eyes darken with desire and affection.

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through your chest. it isn’t just about your body. it’s every part of you — the vulnerable parts, the strong parts, the parts that only he sees.

his hands slide under your shirt with a practiced ease, peeling it away slowly so the cool air brushes over your bare skin. you shiver, not from cold but from the weight of his attention, the way he makes you feel like the most precious thing in the world.

his mouth follows, pressing kisses down your chest, trailing a path of fire and featherlight touches that make your skin tingle.

when his lips close around your nipple, suckling gently, it’s like a spark igniting a slow, steady burn deep inside you. his tongue flicks softly, his teeth barely grazing, and your body responds instinctively — hips arching, fingers tangling in his hair, breath coming faster. you want to soak up every second of this reverence, this worship. this love made flesh.

he trails kisses lower, fingers sliding down your sides until they reach the waistband of your underwear. he pauses there, looking up at you with a soft, almost shy smile, as if asking permission with his eyes. you nod, your pulse racing.

he pulls the fabric down with careful tenderness, revealing the slick heat of your wetness. his fingers brush over your folds, slow and exploratory, pressing lightly against your clit with a thumb that moves in small, measured circles. the sensation is exquisite — neither too gentle nor too rough. perfect.

“you’re so beautiful like this,” he says, voice husky with emotion and desire. “so soft, so perfect for me.”

his fingers part your slick folds, tracing your slit with reverence, teasing the sensitive skin until you’re gasping. he slips two fingers inside you slowly, giving your walls time to adjust, curling them just enough to make you ache deliciously.

he watches your face, reading every flicker of sensation, every breath and moan, adjusting his pace to your body’s language. as his thumb circles your clit, pleasure blossoms in your core, slow and deep.

your mind drifts to the future — how your body might change carrying his children, how you’ll hold those tiny lives close, how you’ll learn to be patient and gentle and fiercely protective, just like he is with you now. you want to be a good mother for him, for your family. to build a home full of love and warmth, just like this moment.

he groans low in your ear, voice thick with need. “you’re mine,” he says again, possessive but soft. “mine to love, mine to fill.”

his fingers pull out just as he lines himself at your entrance, the thick head of his cock teasing your folds, slick and warm. he waits for your nod before sliding inside — slow, deep, and utterly consuming.

you gasp, the fullness overwhelming but so right. his hands grip your hips gently, holding you steady as he buries himself inch by inch. the weight of him presses into you, grounding and tender.

he starts moving with careful, deliberate strokes, not fast or rough but with a rhythm that says i’m here, i’m yours, i want to cherish you.

“you’re so tight,” he breathes, eyes dark and soft. “so perfect for me.”

his hands explore the curves of your waist, the swell of your hips, the smooth skin of your thighs. his touch is reverent, worshipful, like you’re the most sacred thing he’s ever held.

your legs wrap around him instinctively, pressing into his hips as your bodies move together in slow, perfect harmony.

“imagine our kids,” he murmurs against your skin, voice low and full of wonder. “running around, filling this house with their laughter.”

you close your eyes, picturing it vividly — tiny footsteps, sticky hands, sleepy morning cuddles.

“you’d be the best mama,” he says, voice breaking slightly with emotion. “i can see it so clearly.”

his hips thrust deeper, slower, his breathing ragged but controlled.

“you’re so good for me,” he groans, lips brushing your ear. “so good and mine.”

you feel tears prick your eyes — not from pain but from the overwhelming flood of love and promise.

“come for me,” he commands softly, “come on my cock.”

you did, your body unraveling around him as your orgasm crashes through you, wild and tender all at once.

he follows, his release hot and deep inside you, holding you through every shudder, every breath, every whispered word of love.

"my pretty, very pretty, soon to be mama."

he pulls you close, skin slick and warm against skin, heartbeats syncing as you lay tangled together, already dreaming of the family you’ll build, the babies you’ll have, the love you’ll share — forever.

[claudaze]

clauud!! can I req a lil drabble for sohee ? I don’t even care what the plot is, I just need that boy written. plzs feed me claud claud claud 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

━━━𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗩 𝗟𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗦 ⤿ ( 이소희 )

cw. ⋮ suggestive .ᐟ vocal coach!sohee, vv suggestive yes, i believe in dom-ish sohee.

📨 . . claud

[12:26 pm]

. . hiiiii i hope this 𝗳𝗹𝗮𝘀𝗵 𝗳𝗶𝗰 ( instead of drabble ) was enough for u ! idk if it’s long or short or just the right amount but i tried omg i was literally writing this while also juggling a renjun req at the same time OKAY 😞🙏🏻 also the rest is totally up to ur imagination hehehe

“you’re breathing wrong again,” sohee says, voice low — velvet and heat and something unreadable woven into his tone.

he’s not even looking at the mirror like you are — he doesn’t need to. he hears everything. every break in your pitch, every flutter in your breath. and this time, he’s close enough to feel it too.

you’re not sure what gives you away. maybe it’s the shaky exhale, or the way your shoulders tense at his proximity. or maybe it’s just him — too damn observant for his own good. he never misses a thing.

a beat of silence, and then you hear the soft pad of his footsteps behind you. he steps in slowly, deliberately, each step a quiet warning.

your breath hitches by the time he stops just inches away — not quite touching, but you feel his presence like static before a storm. the air between your bodies sharpens with anticipation. then his hand moves.

it’s smooth, practiced — like he’s done this a thousand times — and yet it still manages to knock the wind from your lungs. he places his palm flat under your ribs, the warmth of it bleeding through your thin shirt, firm and steady.

“from here,” he murmurs, voice lowered enough that it practically buzzes against the shell of your ear. his other hand comes up to your upper back, fingertips grazing along your spine before resting at your side. “you’re too tense up top. breathe from your diaphragm, not your chest.”

your muscles lock instinctively beneath his touch — like your body knows better than to trust itself in this kind of proximity. his fingers are calloused in all the right places, grounding you and unraveling you all at once. you try to follow his instruction. you really do.

but every breath feels like a fight. you’re more aware of your own body than you’ve ever been — of the way your lungs expand, of the quiver in your stomach beneath his hand, of the heat pooling between your legs that has nothing to do with nerves.

he feels it. you know he does. his thumb shifts slightly, trailing an idle stroke just below your ribs.

“don’t hold it in,” he murmurs, tone teasing. “i can feel when you’re faking.”

you turn your head slightly, trying to shoot him a half-hearted glare. “i’m trying.”

he hums, amused — and then leans in so close, his breath brushes your neck.

“try harder, baby.”

the word lands like a spark in your bloodstream — casual, too practiced to be innocent. you should say something. should pull away, set a line, anything.

but you don’t.

you take another breath instead. this time deeper. slower. focused from where his hand rests against your stomach.

the sound that leaves your mouth is fuller. rounder. practically perfect.

sohee hums, pleased — and for a moment, it sounds like pride. but when he speaks again, it’s something else.

“there she is.”

his thumb strokes a slow, deliberate arc. just once. but it’s enough to make your skin shiver.

“see how much better that is?” he murmurs, his lips brushing just near your ear again — closer than before. “you just needed a little push.”

your chest rises with another shaky inhale, this time from something far more dangerous than nerves.

“is this part of your usual coaching method?” you ask, trying for lightness, even as your voice betrays you with its breathless lilt.

sohee smiles, soft and dangerous. that lazy, slow-burning curve of his mouth that feels like a dare every time you see it.

“only with students who tempt me.”

your eyes widen — the air between you folding in on itself.

“test me,” he adds, voice dipping impossibly lower.

and then — he moves.

his hand, the one on your stomach, slides higher. up along your torso, fingers grazing under your ribs, slow enough to feel every rise and fall of your breath. still not indecent. still not quite inappropriate.

but every part of you is screaming.

he leans in again — not as a coach now, but as something far more dangerous. his mouth hovers at your jawline, lips grazing but never pressing. not a kiss. not an accident.

a warning.

“breathe for me again,” he says, almost like a dare. “deeper this time.”

you obey. out of instinct, or desperation, or something you won’t name. you fill your lungs like he taught you, but it’s harder now — the air is thick, your skin hot, and the only thing grounding you is the weight of his palm.

you feel your knees begin to buckle. it’s subtle, but enough for him to notice.

sohee’s arm moves without pause — he catches you by the waist, one hand splayed across your hip, holding you up like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“you’re so tense,” he murmurs. “you always get like this around me?”

you exhale his name — not a moan, not quite a whisper. just a breath that sounds like surrender.

“sohee..”

the name hits the air like static. he hears it. feels it. smiles like he owns it.

“you’re so cute when you try to behave,” he murmurs, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. his knuckles graze the curve of your cheek, soft and lingering. he doesn’t kiss you, but he could have.

and when he finally steps back — pulling all his heat, his gravity, his weight away from you — it feels like something physical has been ripped from your body.

you’re still catching your breath when he grabs his water bottle from the desk and leans back, as if nothing happened.

“again,” he says casually. “one more time, baby. from the top.”

you stand there, dazed. breathless. burning. he’s already across the room, leaning on the desk, sipping from his water bottle like nothing happened.

but the heat between your legs, the throb in your pulse, and the sound of his voice in your head? yeah. that shit is permanent.

[claudaze]

I absolutely LOVE how your blog looks

Teach me your ways💋

HELPPPPP 😭 u're way too sweet omj i’m gonna start thinking i invented pixels if u keep this up

[claudaze]

just came to say that i stalk your page every day to see if you've updated your aesthetic and literally everytime i look im blown away. current aesthetic literally makes me feel like i'm in an alternate universe and everything is futuristic and me and mark are trying to save the world, i cant explain it LMAO. you ate DOWN, i literally have nothing but positive things to say and please don't get me started bc i'll never stop 😀

anyways i'll stop yapping. I LOVE UUUUU ☹️🤍🤍

PAIGEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE OMFG?????????? ARE U REAL RN?????????? 😭😭😭😭😭 I’M ACTUALLY ON THE FLOOR KICKING MY FEET CRYING THROWING GLITTER AND HUGGING MY PHONE THIS IS NOT A DRILL. U’RE BACKKKKKK U’RE REALLY BACKKKKKKKKKKKK 🩵

DO U UNDERSTAND HOW LOUD I SCREAMED WHEN I SAW UR NAME I HAD TO PACE I HAD TO BREATHE INTO A PAPER BAG. U’RE SO SWEET I’M GNA EXPLODE. I LOVE UUUUU MORE AAAAHHHHHH pls never stop yapping EVER !!

[claudaze]

wth... why is your theme so majestic.....

MAJESTIC IS SOOO CRAZY TO HEAR RN 😭 like be fr lyv that word ‘bout to go on my tombstone now

[claudaze]

CLAUD ! I AM BACK ! THIS THEME ?? OH MY GODDDDD 😩 it's so pretty too, blue and white is one of my favorite color combos ngl but ! the entire theme is soooo freaking pretty i am literally obsessed with your banner 😭 i see you never miss my love oh god 🤍🤍

BRRRIEEE AAAA literally the kindest soul everrrr i’m gonna sob !!!! pls reveal how u be sensing my theme changes in REAL TIME like LIKEEEE 😰 ??? i was still MOVING THINGS AROUND last time and u already messaged me like 🕵️‍♀️🔍 icl though .. i live for it. ur approval is my final okay 🩵

[claudaze]

HELLO ‼️‼️‼️⁉️ I JUST READ THIS AND I’M BARKING??? SCREAMING?? DOING CARTWHEELS IN TRAFFIC??? NOVA. NOVA NOVA NOVA. WHAT DID U PUT IN THIS. I’M SWEATING. I’M HYPERVENTILATING. i laughed i screamed i had to PAUSE and STARE AT THE WALL. u cooked !! u gourmet meal’d !!! u michelin star chef’d !!!!! WHAT THE HELL 💔💔💔💯💯😖😖👅

SEX EDUCATION .ᐟ ( markhyuck x reader )

synopsis. mark is a virgin, the only virgin in the NCT fraternity house. it’s borderline embarrassing, so who better than to ask his roommate (who is very much not a virgin) and his overzealous girlfriend for some help?

rating. mature. (minors + ageless blogs dni)

warnings. dirty talk (bucketloads of it), voyeurism/exhibitionism, references to religion, spanking, cunniligus, meanie hyuck + inexperienced mark, humiliation kink, degrading, pet names (babygirl, baby, slut, princess), hyuck is very very condescending, mark knows most of what he knows from porn

author’s note. i have no excuse for my actions. i even winced when proofreading this because this is so so fucking dirty… but i must give the people what they want. it kinda veered away from the whole megaperv!haechan idea but i promise you he will be revisited because megaperv!haechan haunts my waking thoughts 😋 pleaseplease leave comments i love reading them hehe

might have edged @claudaze for this fic to the point where sis was fighting sleep… when you wake up n see this i hope i have done your vision justice :3 also @yvvnii commented on my original thought post for this as well 🙂‍↕️ i hope you like this baby AND @cigsaftersuh also asked to be tagged :3 should i start an official taglist… 🤔

“So… you want me to teach you how to have sex?” 

Mark Lee is in a dire situation. At the age of 22, he’s in college, taking a course in astrophysics and engineering. He’s lived a pretty normal life so far, done everything a frat brother should, except for one thing. 

Mark Lee, aged 22, has never had sex. 

It’s not something he particularly wants to be ashamed of. Given his religious nature, he should be satisfied with his virginity, should be proud that he’s saving himself until he meets the right woman. He could go on and never find a wife, and he would happily die a virgin, but he’s a frat brother, and a virgin frat brother is the last thing he wants to be. 

As of late, he’s been partying like a fool. He shouldn’t be– parties aren’t really his scene anyways– but he does anyway, hoping that at one of them, he’ll get drunk enough and finally break his chastity with a girl he’ll never talk to again. But he can’t even bring himself to drink alcohol, let alone get drunk, and every party ends with him going home early, stone cold sober and still, unfortunately, as virgin as he was before the party started. 

It’s sad. He shouldn’t be bothered by it at all, but when he sees his housemate Jaehyun bring home yet another girl (the 3rd one this week?), he gets jealous, because whilst his frat brothers are fucking like rabbits, he’s getting just as much action as a stone on the side of an abandoned highway. It’s gotten to the point where his roommate, Donghyuck, begs him to get out of the house, because he has his own girlfriend, and he can’t bring her home if his virgin roomie is wallowing in self pity under the covers every weekend. 

He doesn’t know that the reason why Mark doesn’t get any action is because he doesn’t know how to, not because he’s unattractive, because he is attractive.

The Nu Chi Theta house is one of the most popular frat houses on campus, with every girl (and even some guys too) wanting to sleep with at least one brother once in their life. There’s no shortage of hot guys in the house, and it's rumoured that to even secure a place in the house, you have to pass some kind of frat house beauty test. It’s ridiculous, and when Mark received his acceptance letter, he couldn’t believe it. He thought it would be an opening for him, a way to get invited to crazy parties and unlimited hookups, a way to finally stray from the cuffs of religion his parents were so insistent on keeping him locked up with.

What he didn’t think about, however, is how hard it would be to let go of said religious cuffs without feeling insanely guilty when he so much as strayed from the path his parents had set out for him. 

No drinking, no partying, and definitely no sex. That’s what they told him before he left, and whilst he’d shrugged it off at the time, those words followed him years later, right up until he finally decided that enough was enough. 

After walking in on Donghyuck and his girlfriend making out on his bed, he knew he had to do something, which leads him to his current situation.

“Mark, be serious with me right now.” Hyuck raises his eyebrow and tilts his head, and Mark physically curls in on himself. “You’re telling me… that you’ve never had sex because you don’t know how to?” 

“Yes, and now I’m asking you to teach me how to. I’ve seen– heard you and your girlfriend. You guys aren’t exactly… discreet.” 

“Yeah, that’s because she doesn’t want me to be discreet. She likes it when everyone knows who’s fuckin’ her.” 

Mark winces. How can Hyuck talk about you like that when you aren’t even here? He wishes that he doesn’t turn out like that, and then he remembers who he’s being taught by, and it makes him feel sick to his stomach. 

Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe he shouldn’t be asking for help, maybe he should just find a video about it on Pornhub and try his chances from there. 

“If you’re having second thoughts, I can tell you that the hub won’t solve your problem.” It’s almost like Hyuck is a mind reader. “You’ll end up embarrassing yourself, and Taeyong will end up having to kick you out. If anyone finds out one of the NCT boys is a virgin and learnt how to fuck from the worst porn site on earth…” It's Hyuck’s turn to wince. “Look, I’ll teach you. Hands-on experience and all.”

“You mean…” 

Hyuck smiles, and Mark asks himself what exactly he’s gotten himself into. “I’ll let you fuck my girlfriend.”

You would do anything for your boyfriend. If he asked you to rob a bank, you’d hand bejewel a balaclava with pink rhinestones and shoot down the clerk with a matching gun. If he asked you to walk around campus on a leash, you’d happily get on all fours. 

So, when he asks you to start flirting with his roommate, you do so with a smile on your face. 

Mark Lee is cute. You’ve seen him around a couple of times, all baggy hoodie and reading glasses, barely saying a word to anyone and keeping to himself in his room. He’s the kind of guy you can’t help but become curious about, and one day, you ask Hyuck about him. 

“He’s kind of a loser,” he tells you between leaving kisses on your neck. “You don’t need to worry about him.” 

“But he doesn’t seem like he has a girlfriend.” You pull away and hold your boyfriend’s face in your hands. “I have a couple of friends who would drop dead at the chance to fuck an NCT guy. If he wants a girlfriend, I can get him one.” 

“It’s not a girlfriend he wants, baby, it’s sex.” 

“There’s a party next week. He can find a hookup there.” 

Hyuck scoffs. “You’re so dumb. He’s a virgin, and if he wanted a girlfriend, he wouldn’t even know how to bag himself one.” The smile he’s wearing is dangerous, and you raise your eyebrows. “Which is why…” His hands slide up your waist and slip under your baby tee. “... I need you to do me a favour.” 

That favour is the reason why you’re currently posted up against the kitchen counter in the NCT house, licking a popsicle like it’s the most delicious snack on Earth whilst staring holes into Mark from across the kitchen. You know he’s avoiding looking at you, which is why you walk up to him and tap him on the shoulder, wearing a knowing smile on your face.

“Just because Hyuck’s my boyfriend, doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. I mean, I’m friends with practically every guy here!” You widen your eyes like a doe and wrap your lips around the top of the popsicle, reveling in the way Mark gulps nervously, his Adam’s apple bobbing and eyes glued to the bright red trail of juice dribbling down your chin. “You can talk to me, y’know.” 

You take a step closer, and that seems to be Mark’s breaking point. He sharply turns on his heel and all but runs out of the kitchen, abandoning the glass of water he was nursing on the counter. You bite off the tip of the popsicle, smiling happily to yourself as you skip after him.

When Mark gets back upstairs, Hyuck is waiting for him, sitting cross legged on his bed with a smile on his face, one akin to the one you were wearing in the kitchen. You…

“I knew you’d end up running away from her. You’re more of a loser than I thought you were, dude.” 

Mark’s jaw drops to the floor. “She was in on it? And you never thought to tell me?” 

Hyuck shrugs. “She was giving you an example of how a girl would approach you at a party if she wanted to fuck you.” He eyes Mark up and down before snickering to himself. “Clearly, you failed.” 

“It was a test? And she knew?!” Mark is panicking now. His secret is basically out of the bag; you’re going to tell all of your friends that there’s a virgin in the NCT house, and they’ll tell their friends, and then he’ll get kicked out and have to live with his parents, a pious virgin for the rest of his life. 

Ironically, Mark grips the cross pendant hanging from his neck. Hyuck catches him doing it, and quirks an eyebrow. “You think God’s gonna tell you how to fuck? You have got to be kidding me.” 

“Maybe I don’t need to lose my virginity. Abstinence doesn’t sound that bad, I mean, I’ll become a priest, live in peace for the rest of my life and-” 

Mark is cut off by a sharp slap around his face. “Don’t go into religious psychosis over some pussy. I’ll still teach you, but it might be a little harder than I initially thought.” His eyes narrow, and Mark gulps again. “I didn’t think my girlfriend licking a popsicle would scare you that much.” 

“I scared him?” Mark feels like he’s just been dragged into hell by his collar, because you’re standing by the door, the popsicle and any traces of it gone from your face as you stare at him incredulously. “Oh- I didn’t mean to! I was just doing what you told me to do.” 

“And you did it very well baby.” Hyuck is approaching you, and you resume wearing that pleasant smile, allowing him to slip his arms around your waist and lead you into the bedroom, swiftly locking the door behind you. “And now, you’re gonna do something else for me.” 

Mark watches the way the two of you interact, and he hates to admit it, but he’s jealous. You look at Hyuck like he’s your everything and you’re absolutely entranced by him, gaze never breaking, even when his wandering hands slip under your skirt. He doesn’t pay any attention to the rapidly forming erection in his loose joggers when you and Hyuck start kissing, his hands full of ass pulling you closer into him. It’s borderline disgusting, the way your eyes roll back under your lids, and he really should close his eyes, but-

“D’you think he’s motivated enough now, princess?” He’s snapped out of his trance by the two of you staring at him, Hyuck’s face flushed and your chest heaving gently, lashes fluttering as you take in the sight of Mark standing there, hard as rock and red as a tomato.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, smiling. “Should I-”

“No.” You stop in your tracks, watching as your boyfriend sits down on the bed, spreading his legs and patting his thigh as a motion for you to take a seat. “You sit down too, Mark.” He looks up at his confused roommate. “Class is now in session.” 

If Mark told himself several hours ago that he would be watching his roommate talk dirty to his girlfriend, he would’ve laughed, and then spat out his coffee. He can only watch as Hyuck pulls you forward in his lap, paying no mind to the way your skirt bunches at your hips and displays your ass in a thong that leaves little to the imagination. 

“First things first…” Hyuck looks at Mark from his side of the room, his hands stationed on your thighs straddling his lap. “You need to get the language down. It’s part of foreplay, you got that?” Mark nods. “Good. Now…” Hyuck kisses you fleetingly on the lips before looking you in the eye. “You have to tell her she’s a good girl. Most girls are into that sort of thing.

“Tell her what you wanna do to her.” Hyuck pulls your hips forward on his lap, and you groan. “Tell her you wanna fuck her, that you wanna make her feel good, better than she’s ever felt.” Your lashes flutter, and although Mark can’t see your face, you smile, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend’s neck. “See? She likes it, don’t you, pretty?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, grinding down onto him more. “Want you to fuck me.” 

Hyuck laughs. “This isn’t about you. This is about Mark.” He looks past you again at his roommate, who looks like he wants to be swallowed alive by the ground. “Are you learning anything?” 

He gulps before reciting what he’s learnt. “Talk dirty to her. Tell her what you want to do to her, that you want to…” Hyuck raises his eyebrow, a signal for Mark to continue. “...that you want to… fuck… her.” He smiles, and Mark sighs a sound of relief. 

This is difficult for him. He’s awkward, because it’s generally awkward to watch his roommate have borderline sex with his girlfriend, the same person who just gave him a raging hard on from licking a popsicle. He’s also undoubtedly jealous, because even though he doesn’t know the first thing about having sex, he wants to have sex with you, but it seems like Hyuck is doing a better job at riling you up than he ever could. 

“See how I’m touching her?” Mark redirects his focus to where Hyuck’s hands are, and it looks like he’s everywhere. “I’m not giving her what she wants just yet. I have to tease her, make her want it.” He looks back at you “Do you want it, baby?” 

You pout. “Quit teasing me!”

You’re so cute. Mark understands why Hyuck would go for a girl like you– you’re too easy; easily obeying, easily teased, easily fucked. You’re perfect for a guy with a crazy sex drive, and he’s perfect for a girl who loves to devote herself to her boyfriend. You’re a perfect couple, and Mark can feel the jealousy begin to ebb its way back into his system. 

“Don’t worry, Mark. You’ll get a turn soon enough.” Hyuck taps the back of your thigh and you nod, climbing off of his lap and onto the bed. He doesn’t have to say anything, but you know exactly what he wants you to do, pulling down your skirt and bending over on the bed, ass up in the air and head buried in the pillows. “Get over here. Look at what all those things I told you about do to her.” 

Mark almost hesitates, but when he sees Hyuck scope the meat of your ass before pulling the cheeks apart, his moves are almost robotic, and what he sees almost sends him into shock. 

He’s never seen a pussy in real life before, only in the videos, and even then he can’t bring himself to look properly. Watching pornography is basically a sin, so he only watches the censored ones, and when he comes face to face with your pussy, he feels like he’s about to explode. 

You’re still wearing your underwear. That much is apparent given the lace decorating your hips, but your cunt is so wet, it’s all but swallowed the seat of your panties, and your labia bulges around the pink fabric. It’s much more lewd in person, and Mark is frozen in his place, mouth open with no sound coming out. 

“Say something, loser. Isn’t she pretty?” 

Mark gulps before speaking. “Y-yeah.” His voice cracks, and you giggle, the syrupy sound going straight to his dick. 

“He’s so nervous,” you breathe, swaying your ass in his direction. “Such a virgin.” 

He should be embarrassed. He should really leave, let Hyuck do whatever he wants to you behind closed doors and forget this ever happened, yet he feels nothing of the sort, instead sitting down on the bed and placing a shaky hand on your ankle. “I-” 

“You what?” Hyuck sounds pissed, which is odd considering this was his suggestion. “Say something. She’s not gonna sit and wait for you forever. My girl has needs.” 

My girl. Mark gulps again. “I… I kinda wanna… eat her out.” 

Whilst you moan a little and shove your face deeper into the pillows, Hyuck claps Mark on the back, and his annoyance is replaced with a smile. “There he is! Do you want me to teach you, or do you think you got it?” 

Cunniligus is his favourite type of porn. He would rather die than admit it, but when Mark fantasises (and trust, he does), he imagines himself in between a pair of thighs, and his mouth attached to a juicy pussy. He never thought he’d get the chance, but with the way your hips sway gently, he just wants to grab onto you, pull your panties aside and-

“Do it.” It’s your voice that echoes in his head now, and he finally looks at your face. Your eyes are filled with lust and you bite down on your bottom lip, lashes fluttering as an invitation. “C’mon Markie, don’t think about it, just-” 

You’re cut off by a pair of fingers massaging your cunt. Hyuck pulls aside the seat of your thong, and gestures to your dripping arousal. “You heard her. Dig in.”

He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, because if he does, he’ll be breaking a plethora of rules set out for him since birth. This is someone else’s girlfriend, a stranger if anything, but all that fades away when he hears your reaction to Hyuck’s fingers slipping into your needy pussy. Your back arches, and you whine out like a mantra, but it isn’t the name of your boyfriend. 

It’s Mark’s name that you whine, gasping when you feel a harsh slap on your ass. “That’s not my name, pretty. Unless you want my loser roommate that bad?”

This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wro-

Mark’s lips make contact with your pussy, and he’s gone. 

He’s a messy eater, inexperienced for sure, but the feeling of his hot tongue on your folds has you collapsing into the bed. Mark’s tongue is everywhere but nowhere all at once, and when his hands come up to grip your ass, you melt into his touch. 

“There you go.” Hyuck’s voice mingles with your moans in his ear, and Mark groans. “Seems like she likes you.” For him, this is all a show, watching his loser virgin roomie tongue fuck his girlfriend. Hyuck always knew you were a slut, but he never knew you would fall this far, drool staining his pillowcase as you grind desperately onto the tongue of a guy who had never seen nor touched a pussy in his life. 

“When she’s moaning like that, it means she’s close.” Mark’s eyes flick up to his roommate, his hands still superglued to your ass and tongue still buried deep into your cunt. “Remember what I said about teasing? Can’t make her cum yet, or she’ll be too tired for what comes next.” 

What comes next? Mark’s rhythm is interrupted by Hyuck’s comment and he pulls away, licking his lips and wiping the sweat from his brow. “Do you mean…?” 

His roommate nods with a smile. “I do mean that. I’d go first but– and I hate to say this– you were so good at eating her out that if I fuck her now, she’ll cum way too early.” 

“Need it so bad…” Both boys look at you, and one scoffs whilst the other gasps. You’re a mess, probably more of a mess than Mark. Blackened tears run down your cheeks, your lipstick is smudged and drool trails down your chin as you look back at the both of them. “Want you both. Please.” 

“Both?” Mark balks. He didn’t even know that was possible. 

“What a fucking slut.” Hyuck slaps your ass and you groan, a tear running down your cheek and a dribble of arousal running down the back of your thigh. “You don’t get both regularly, but suddenly you want two cocks instead of one? C’mon, babygirl. Don’t be greedy now that Mark’s around.” 

Ordinarily, Mark would never be able to talk to anyone like that, let alone a girl, but when Hyuck says it, it sounds so natural, and your reaction is very different to what he would expect. You arch your back, eyes rolling into the back of your head. 

You like being degraded. That much is clear from the way you chase after Hyuck’s snide comments, the way you bite your lip whenever he calls you a slut. Mark raises his eyebrows. 

“She likes it when you talk dirty to her,” he whispers, looking at his roommate. “Is she… is she always like this?” 

“Always has been, and probably always will be. Why do you think she agreed to this whole thing?” Your boyfriend cards his fingers through your hair before pulling you up so that you’re flush against his chest, ass brushing against his erection through his jeans. “She wanted to humiliate herself in front of you, Mark. She wanted you to know how needy she is. For her, it was never about helping you.” Mark watches the way you shudder when Hyuck’s hand trails down your belly, fingers resting just above the peak of your clit. “Pretty girl’s always wanted to be stuffed full with another cock. And she’s always wanted it to be you.” 

Mark’s breathing is shallow. You knew he was a virgin, but you wanted him anyway, wanted to see him crumble and let himself go. 

Instead of being weirded out by this information, his lip quirks up in a smile. “Is that so?” 

Your eyelids flutter. “Y-yeah. Thought you were p-pretty.” 

His head tilts, and he’s suddenly filled with a wave of confidence. “Really? Or did you just like the fact that you would be the one to take my virginity? Isn’t Hyuck enough for you, princess?” 

The room falls silent, save for the intermingled sound of shallow breathing. Hyuck is shocked that Mark would ever say something like that, let alone use that tone, but when the shock subsides, he smiles. “Why don’t you show her how much of a slut she is?”

Mark smiles at his roommate, reveling in the way you shudder against him. “I’d love to.”

© PUPPYSUH 2025 — do not copy, repost or translate my works without permission.

[claudaze]

BRING THIS FINE SHIT BAAACKKKKK 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔 his straight era 🥀 GIVE ME THAT OREO HAIRED RENJUN BACK NEOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW !!!!! .

[claudaze]

no no.. i’m not going insane.. no 💔 NO 💔 suddenly i can’t write anymore 💔

[claudaze]

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH SO THIS IS WHAT U MEANT WHEN U SAID U'RE GONNA FEED ME SJDJSDJSJJDJDJFHFA UGGGGGGHH ( riri. dear riri. WHEN I CATCH U RIRI. )

cw.ㅤ҂ 𝗺𝗱𝗻𝗶.ㅤ[ㅤ﹙heavy﹚angst, hurt w no comfort, unprotected sex, fwbsㅤ]ㅤㅤ ֗ ִᝰ ּ ۪ㅤㅤhow can we go back to being friends when we just shared a bed?

you lie there, half-naked in tangled sheets, eunseok's warmth still lingering on your skin like a ghost that refuses to leave. your eyes fixate on the back of his silhouette, the way his bare shoulders curve slightly forward as he perches at the edge of your bed like he doesn’t know whether to stay or disappear.

and maybe he doesn’t. you can’t decide which would be worse. the silence stretches too long, too painfully familiar, and in it, you feel everything you’ve ever left unsaid clawing its way up your throat.

you want to speak, scream, confess — but your lips stay pressed shut. what’s the point? you’ve done this before. over and over. this never-ending loop of blurred lines, midnight visits, and aching mornings after.

he always leaves like this. like a memory slipping through your fingers. and you always let him. but tonight, the ache feels heavier. maybe it’s the way he held you, just a little tighter. maybe it’s the way he looked at you right before he kissed you like he didn’t want to let go.

or maybe you’re just tired — tired of pretending you’re not breaking a little more every time he zips up his jeans and walks away without looking back. you whisper his name, fragile and quiet, and it slices through the air like a wound being reopened.

eunseok. he doesn’t respond at first, just tenses like the sound of you might make him unravel. but eventually, he turns his head, eyes flicking to you in the dark. there’s a flicker of something in them — guilt, maybe. regret. or worse, indifference masked as kindness.

"are you really going to leave again without saying anything?" you ask. you hate how small your voice sounds. how desperate. but what else is left? you gave him your body. your heart followed without permission.

all that remains now are questions you’re too scared to answer. he exhales a quiet laugh, one that’s more tired than amused. "what do you want me to say?" he replies, and it stings more than if he’d just lied. you bite your lip, eyes stinging.

"maybe that this wasn’t a mistake. that i’m not the only one who felt something." he looks away again. silence thickens between you like fog. you could drown in it.

he rubs his face, then his hair — just like he did the night he first kissed you, half-drunk and fully tempted. just like he did when he told you you meant something to him, only to disappear for three weeks.

"you know this isn’t fair," he says, and you almost laugh. "to who? you? or me?" you want him to say you. you want him to say it’s not fair to either of you because maybe then it would mean he cares. that this whole mess hurts him too.

he finally turns to face you, and his expression is unreadable. beautiful and distant. "to both of us." you shake your head. "then why do you keep coming back?" still, no answer. of course not. because answering would mean admitting something.

something real. something irreversible. and eunseok is nothing if not careful. you want to scream. instead, you whisper, "do you remember the first night?" he closes his eyes. of course he does.

it wasn’t supposed to mean anything. you were friends. you wore his hoodie. he sat too close. your knees touched. and you didn’t move away. his lips tasted like vodka and recklessness, and you let him kiss you anyway.

he told you not to overthink it. you laughed and kissed him harder. but then he stayed the night. held you while you slept. brushed his fingers through your hair like it meant something.

and maybe that was your first mistake — believing it could ever be more. hoping he might wake up one day and realize you weren’t just someone to fuck when the nights got lonely.

you stare at him in the dark. "stay," you say. one word. three syllables. everything you’ve never had the courage to ask until now. he doesn’t answer.

but he doesn’t leave either. instead, he crawls back toward you, slow and cautious, like he's approaching a flame that might burn him. he leans in and kisses you again — soft, searching, like he’s begging for something he’ll never let himself have. and you let him. you always let him.

this time, it’s slower. different. like he's trying to memorize you, or forget you. his hands find your waist, fingers tracing the outline of your hips as if learning them for the first time. he kisses your neck, your collarbone, your jaw.

you exhale, eyes fluttering shut as his hands move lower, palms dragging across your stomach. the room is quiet except for your breathing, his mouth, your skin. he parts your legs with reverence, as though he hasn’t already been here a dozen times before. as though this is sacred. maybe it is.

he slides his fingers between your thighs, already finding you soaked. your breath stutters, caught somewhere between shame and need, as he presses two fingers through your folds and groans under his breath.

he rubs slow circles into your clit with the pad of his thumb, and your body jolts, so sensitive it almost hurts. “you’re so wet for me,” he murmurs, almost in awe, like it’s the first time—like he hasn’t had you like this a hundred times before.

but it always feels like this. like something you shouldn’t want this badly. something that leaves bruises you can’t see.

his voice drops, rougher now. “you want me to stop?”

you shake your head instantly, breathless. “no. please.”

he leans over you, one hand planted beside your head while the other keeps touching you, sliding lower, slipping two fingers into your cunt with slow pressure.

you choke on a moan, back arching, eyes fluttering shut. he curls them just right, dragging over that soft, swollen spot that makes you whimper. he watches you fall apart beneath him like he’s collecting each piece. like he already knows he’ll leave you broken again.

his mouth grazes your jaw. “look at you,” he whispers. “falling apart like you still think i’m yours.”

you gasp, your voice cracking. “i never stopped thinking it.”

that makes something falter in him. his fingers still, and for a second it’s just the sound of your breathing, uneven and shallow. then he leans down and kisses you, hard and slow and aching.

his tongue slips into your mouth, claiming, desperate. he kisses you like a promise he never kept.

when he pulls his fingers out, you whine, but he’s already moving — kneeling between your thighs, stroking his cock slowly, watching you with a look that makes your heart stutter. “spread your legs, baby,” he says, low and serious. “wanna see you when i fuck you.”

you do as he says. because you always do. and when he finally pushes into you, it knocks the breath from your lungs.

he’s thick and heavy and so fucking deep. your cunt tightens around him instantly, greedy and aching and slick. he bottoms out slowly, letting you feel every inch, and the stretch is painful in that way you crave, like you’re being filled with all the things he never says.

“fuck,” he breathes out, gripping your hips hard. “you’re perfect. still so fucking tight.”

you’re already trembling beneath him, nails digging into his arms as he starts to move — slow at first, rolling his hips deep and steady, grinding against your clit with every thrust. he groans low, like he’s trying to hold himself back. “feel that? how good you take my cock?”

you nod, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. tears slip out from the corners of your eyes, and he sees them. his hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing them away even as he keeps fucking into you with that same devastating rhythm. “don’t cry,” he murmurs. “or do. i’ll still fuck you just the same.”

you sob softly, not from pain, but from the weight of it. of him. of every time you’ve begged for something more without saying a word.

his thrusts get a little rougher. not fast — never fast — but deeper, sharper, like he’s trying to leave something behind inside you. like maybe if he fucks you hard enough, slow enough, deep enough, he won’t have to say how much he wants to stay.

“say it,” he says, voice hoarse. “tell me it’s mine.”

“it’s yours,” you whisper, voice barely there. “i’ve always been yours.”

he leans down, forehead pressed to yours, chest brushing yours with every breath. “don’t say that,” he says quietly. “not when you know i can’t give you what you want.”

you hold his face with both hands, even as he’s still moving inside you, cock dragging in and out of your cunt like he owns it. “i don’t care,” you whisper. “just.. don’t stop. please.”

he kisses you again, and this one tastes like surrender. like maybe he wants to believe you.

you feel yourself getting close again — your body winding up, clit throbbing from the friction, your pussy fluttering around him like it doesn’t want to let go. you cling to him, arms tight around his neck, crying out softly every time his cock hits that spot deep inside.

he feels it. he always knows. “you’re gonna cum again, aren’t you?” he breathes, rutting into you harder now. “gonna cum all over my cock while i’m still inside you.”

“please,” you sob, nails dragging down his back. “please—i can’t—”

he grabs your face with one hand, thumb against your cheek, holding your eyes open. “look at me when you cum.”

and you did. you came with a broken cry, cunt clenching around his cock, your body shaking under him like something’s come loose. and he’s right there with you, fucking you through it, his voice raw and tight.

“fuckfuckfuck—gonna cum inside you,” he groans, hips stuttering. “gonna fill this pussy so full of me, you won’t forget. even if you try.”

he cums deep, cock twitching as he spills inside you with a long, shuddering groan of your name. his body collapses over yours, weight heavy, skin damp.

and still, he doesn’t pull out. not right away. he stays inside you, wrapped in the heat and silence and everything you couldn’t say before.

his cum leaks slowly down your thighs, mixing with yours, still so warm. he presses his face to your neck, breathing you in, like maybe he’s memorizing you. like maybe he knows this is the last time.

you stroke his hair, you didn’t say anything. neither does he. because words would break it. and you already know he’s going to.

afterward, he doesn’t pull away. he stays inside you. holds you. breathes against your neck like maybe he wishes he could stay. and for a moment, you let yourself believe he might.

his body leaves yours like an apology that comes too late, slow, almost reverent, but silent. and that silence is louder than anything. it sits between your ribs, pressed up against your lungs like grief, suffocating.

you feel the emptiness of him before you even open your eyes, and god, it hurts in ways you didn’t prepare for. you don’t know how to move. how to speak. how to pretend this was just sex when your whole body is trembling with the echo of him inside you.

you can still feel him everywhere. in the space between your thighs, in the raw sting of your skin, in the unspoken words buried beneath your tongue. he doesn’t say anything. doesn’t touch you. doesn’t look at you.

he just breathes like he regrets something, and you lie there, trying to piece together if he regrets what he did or who he did it with. you want to scream at him. or maybe beg. maybe both.

maybe fall to your knees and ask him why he always chooses to leave when you’re still trying to hold pieces of him inside you. your eyes trace the movement of his back, the way he pulls his shirt over his head like it’s just another day.

like this was just another night. and you wonder if it’s that easy for him, if he’s gotten used to detaching his body from his heart so cleanly that he can fuck you like he means it, then leave like it meant nothing.

you don’t have that skill. you never did. you let him crawl inside your chest and set up camp there. let him ruin you a little more every time he came back. you never learned how to love him halfway, and maybe that’s why it hurts so much. because he never stays long enough to love you fully.

you sit up eventually, dragging the sheet with you, pressing it to your chest like it could hold you together. your skin still smells like him. his cum is drying on your thigh, a sticky reminder of how deeply he’s inside your life, even when he pretends not to be.

the room is quiet, heavy with the weight of all the things neither of you will say. and when you finally speak, it comes out too soft, too broken to sound like anger.

“i would’ve stayed,” you whisper, barely audible. “if you’d asked.” he doesn’t respond. doesn’t flinch. just stands near the door with his hand on the handle, his body tense like he’s already on his way out. like he’s halfway gone already. and maybe he is.

he says your name once — just once — and it sounds like an apology he doesn’t know how to finish. you don’t answer.

what would you even say? that you wish you hadn’t let him in again? that you can still feel his lips on your skin like a brand? that it’s going to take months — maybe years — to forget the way he looked at you right before he fucked you like it was the last time?

none of it matters. not now. not when the ending has already written itself, and you’re the only one still stuck in the middle.

you watch as he leaves. this time, there’s no hesitation. he opens the door, and the hallway light spills into the room, pale and cruel. he doesn’t look back. and something inside you breaks with the finality of it. you don’t call out to him. don’t chase. don’t cry.

you just sit there, still wrapped in sheets that hold the scent of his skin, in a bed that’s too big without him. and when the door clicks shut, you feel it echo through your chest like a gunshot. quiet. clean. final.

after he’s gone, you lie back down. stare at the ceiling like it might give you answers. but all it gives you is the sound of your own heartbeat, and the dull throb between your legs that still remembers him.

your body aches in places he touched like it misses him already, and you hate it. you hate that you still want him. that part of you is hoping he’ll come back even though you know he won’t. even though you know he never meant to stay.

the sun begins to rise. you watch it happen slowly, the light creeping in through the blinds, soft and unforgiving. the world keeps turning like nothing happened. like you didn’t just lose him all over again.

and when the tears finally come, they’re silent. not dramatic. not poetic. just tired. you press your hand against your chest like maybe you can hold the pieces together long enough to survive the morning. but even that feels like a lie.

you whisper his name once into the empty room. not loud. not with hope. just to hear how it sounds in the quiet he left behind. and then you say it — so soft it barely feels real.

“how the fuck do we go back to being friends after this?”

but the truth is: you already know. you can’t. and he never planned to. he fucked you like a memory and left you like a secret, and now you’re just one more thing he’ll never talk about.

[claudaze]

for the better - pt.2 : ex-boyfriend! sungchan ft. boyfriend! wonbin . cws : toxic relationship . oral (f) . wc : 1.1k+ . genre : angst + smut

EX-BOYFRIEND! SUNGCHAN who, didn't matter how much you loved him, was still a pain to be around.

sungchan was a perfectionist, meaning that every detail of every aspect of his very sad life had to go the exact way he thought was right. you pitied him, and his necessity to always make things exactly how he envisioned the right way for them to be, but you also hated him for it, for letting that part of himself that he should be aware he needed to work on affect your relationship. 

it was awful, any date that didn’t go according to plan, any present that he gave you that didn’t earn the reaction he wanted, anything and everything a reason for him to get angry, and blame you for “destroying” his perfect idea. you despised him for it, that being his main flaw — and you loved wonbin for being the complete opposite.

wonbin never made you feel blamed for anything, always being logical, saying that if things didn’t happen how you had planned, than it was for the better, a soft smile on his lips as he reassured you. he was sweet, as sweet as sungchan was when he wasn’t pissed off because of his perfectionist tendencies, and that was what attracted you to him, the fact that he was just like sungchan, except for the ugly parts.

they were eerily similar. they were both loving, doting boyfriends, both so caring and charming it was impossible for you not to fall for them, always touching you so sweetly, giving you the gentlest kisses and making you feel like heaven had fallen upon you — one single flaw the thing that differentiated them.

sometimes you wondered if that had been the whole reason you had fallen for wonbin in the first place, that question impossible to not arise taking into account the circumstances, making you ask yourself if you loved him because he was basically sungchan 2.0, the improved version of the original. you tried to stray away from such thoughts, sungchan and wonbin are nothing alike!, you’d think to yourself, trying to convince yourself of something you yourself didn't even believe.

it was the small things, sungchan used to bring you flowers on the last friday of every month, a way to commemorate more time spent together, he’d explain. wonbin did something weirdly similar, bringing you your favorite snack and meal at the moment whenever the 7th of the month you were in hit, symbolizing the day you started dating. and there were more similarities.

sungchan always gave you forehead kisses when you met up, for wonbin it was cheek kisses. sungchan knew your order in every place you frequented recurrently by heart, wonbin was quick to pick up that habit too. sungchan liked making little surprises for you here and there, wonbin would surprise you with random gifts sometimes. when you walked in public, sungchan always had to have his arm hugging your shoulders, meanwhile wonbin wouldn’t walk until your fingers were laced with his — and the list went on.

you tried to convince yourself you didn’t love wonbin just because he reminded you of sungchan, you really did, but it was damn near impossible, sungchan’s perfectionism the only thing that seemed to be truly different about them, wonbin not nearly as up-tight about things as your ex. wonbin never made you cry because it suddenly rained on the day you were supposed to have a picnic at the beach, finding a way to somehow blame you for the constant water drops covering the entire city’s ground. instead he’d smile, saying the weather was perfect for an indoor picnic with you two wrapped on a blanket while watching a movie and sharing your favorite snacks. wonbin also never made you leave his apartment in tears because you didn’t pay full attention to what he was saying and he had to repeat himself, that sort of thing reserved for sungchan, who’d get frustrated over how you didn’t care about a word he said like you were supposed to since he always listened to you attentively. that list also kept going on and on, making you try to, yet again, force yourself to believe that you didn’t love wonbin because he reminded you of sungchan, but because he was better than him. maybe not exactly an opposite, but different enough.

maybe they had similar habits, maybe they even touched you the same way, but they were still different enough.

sungchan loved eating you out, saying he loved how you twisted in pleasure for him. wonbin also loved lapping at your pussy, but because he loved how you tasted, how your clit twitched against his tongue in pleasure. sungchan loved the little whine and how you’d automatically bite your lip right after whenever he first pushed his fat cock into you, saying your so blatant bliss hypnotized him — and wonbin loved it too, but because of how perfectly you wrapped around his girth, as if your pussy was made for him. sungchan’s favorite position was having you laying down while he hovered over you, his torso almost glued to yours, adoring how he could so easily reach down and whisper filthy things in your ear while keeping his pace. wonbin on the other hand loved missionary but because he thought it was more intimate, because he could lock eyes with you, feel almost every inch of your body pressed against his as he whispered on your ear how much he loved you — every time his big cock pressed against your plush walls and he leaned down to say something, a part of you that you deeply hated immediately delivering flashbacks of sungchan doing almost the exact same thing. you hated it, but then pleasure would overtake you and thoughts of sungchan would fade to the back of your mind. 

even as you laid in bed afterwards, both breathless and drunk on pleasure, they both held you similarly, close to them, almost as if they were scared you’d slip away. maybe sungchan truly had been afraid you would slip away from his hands, your break up completely shattering his perfect future — something he made very clear when you left him — and maybe wonbin was also afraid you would slip away, but because he loved you, and he didn’t wanna lose the person he adore so much and so openly

after all, and after thinking about it for much longer than you thought you should, you decided that this was definitely for the better. sungchan could be great, his flaws what destroyed you two, and although wonbin also wasn’t some perfect being by any means, nobody even coming close to that, his flaws didn’t make you two grow apart — so what more was there to think about in the end?

[claudaze]

CLAUD THIS THEME ??? IT'S SOOOO PRETTY !!! AND OH MY GOD SOHEE ??? JUST TAKE ME 😩 PUT ME OUT OF MY MISERY AND TAKE ME 😩😩

HELLO ???????????????????? JSNXJZJSJSJSJ IDK WHY I AM BELUSHIN SO HARD RN 😞😞😞😞😣😣 the fact that u NOTICED that i changed my theme alr.. AND! AND! AND I’M EVEN MORE EMBARRASSED bc i was still editing the pics 💔