doriku

[doriku]

Thank you for providing us with wonbin content i legit had butterflies in my stomach you write SOOOO well and vivid love you <3 🩷🩵

thank you sm omj !! i’m really just out here rambling ab wonbin being the most boyfriend boy ever and it makes me so happy to know it actually gave you butterflies 🩶 ily more mwah mwah take all my love rn

[doriku]

ㅤ𖹭 #𝗪𝗢𝗡𝗕𝗜𝗡 ::ㅤ𝗗𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗛𝗜𝗠 𝗪𝕺𝗨𝗟𝗗 𝗜𝗡𝗖𝗟𝗨𝗗𝗘⠀⠀【...】

ㅤㅤ𝑛. ⠀﴾⠀cw. 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳. pure fluff but there’s a lil kissy kiss thing at the end h e h e . . ;b⠀━╋⠀﴿⠀ 𝖻𝖿!𝗐𝗈𝗇𝖻𝗂𝗇 ⎯⎯ 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋.

⠀͙ࣳ #𓂃 𝗆𝗐𝖾𝗈𝗂 ⁝ 𝑟𝑖𝑟𝑖 speaks . . SO ! this is the last upload for today 😿 sadly I gotta get back to my studies .. cognitive distortions and attachment styles are calling BUT ANYWAY ! hope you enjoyed this before I go back to analyzing behavior instead of writing abt it lol

he looks unbothered but is secretly the clingiest guy you’ve ever dated : wonbin seems chill. he's got that effortlessly cool, slightly sarcastic aura that makes people assume he’s emotionally detached or doesn’t need anyone, but the second it’s just the two of you ? this boy melts. he’s the type to sit cross-legged on the couch with his head in your lap, fiddling with your fingers while you scroll through something. hugs from behind when you’re cooking. whines a little when you don’t cuddle him first. he won’t say he misses you, but he shows up with your favorite snacks and stays longer than he meant to. if you ever pull away first, he looks up like “wait, where are you going? I didn’t say you could leave.”

he always acts like you're the one who's obsessed.. but it’s so clearly him : he teases you like it’s his full-time job. calls you dramatic when you ask for a kiss, tells you you’re “so clingy” — but meanwhile, he has your selfies saved in a hidden album and checks your texts the second they come in. will text “you miss me?” and when you say yes, he just types “knew it 😏” — but he’s smiling into his pillow like an idiot. he plays the nonchalant card but if you’re busy for too long, he gets genuinely pouty and types out a message like “wyd” then deletes it and sends “u good?” instead, pretending he wasn’t just staring at your name for five minutes.

dates with him are quiet but intimate : record stores, late-night walks, sneaking into a closed skatepark just to sit on the ramps and talk about the future. he doesn’t like big, crowded things — prefers the kind of dates where time slows down. he’ll pick a flower off a bush and tuck it behind your ear. he’ll pull you close on park benches and let his arm stay around you long after it’s comfortable. he’s not trying to impress you, he just wants to exist next to you, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. when the sun hits just right, he’ll take a photo of you and save it quietly. when you notice and ask what he’s doing, he just shrugs and says “you looked nice. had to.”

he gets weirdly possessive in subtle ways : not in a jealous, overbearing way — but in a quiet, protective, “you’re mine and I don’t need to explain that” kind of way. you could be talking to someone else and he won’t interrupt, won’t act immature.. but his hand will find yours. his thumb will rest on your wrist. and when you’re walking through a crowd, he’s always behind you with a hand on your lower back, steering you through. if someone crosses a line, he doesn’t argue, just pulls you in closer and says “let’s go.” and when you’re alone, he mutters things like “you don’t have to talk to people like that when I’m around.”

he has the softest 2am voice and it’s UNFAIR : when he’s half-asleep, his voice goes lower and raspier, and everything he says suddenly sounds five times more intimate. late-night calls turn into confessions. he mumbles “you’re the only one that makes me feel like this” and sighs like he’s scared to admit it. his words slow down, but they hit harder. when you’re lying in bed next to him, and he’s barely awake, he whispers things into the dark like “don’t go anywhere, okay? I don’t think I’d be fine if you left.” and then pretends he didn’t say it in the morning.

he’s lowkey a tease but only for you : wonbin’s sense of humor is dry and sneaky — he’ll drop a flirtatious comment with a straight face and act like he doesn’t know what he’s doing. touches the inside of your thigh with his hand when you’re sitting close. grazes your waist when he passes behind you. raises a brow when you shift away, like “what? you’re jumpy.” and if you ever try to turn the tables and fluster him ? he’ll bite his lip and chuckle, lean in close and whisper, “careful. you won’t win.” and you won’t. not when he’s got that lazy smirk and slow blink that makes your brain go static.

he sends you songs instead of paragraphs : he’s not the most verbal with emotions, but he feels everything deeply. he won’t send long romantic rants, but he’ll send you a song at 3am and say “this made me think of you.” or he’ll text lyrics like “you look like you should be mine” and leave you wondering if he wrote it. he keeps playlists for you: one for when you’re sad, one for when you’re in love, one that’s just called “you <3.” when he misses you, he sends a song with no context, but the message is always loud.

he stares when you’re not looking ( and sometimes when you are ) : he’s a quiet observer. watches you tie your hair, take your jacket off, laugh at something dumb — and doesn’t say anything, just keeps watching. sometimes when you catch him, he doesn’t even look away. just keeps his gaze steady and says “i like watching you.” it’s not creepy, it’s just honest. when he stares too long, you ask “what?” and he just shrugs and says “you’re the kind of pretty that doesn’t make sense.”

he's not good at big romantic gestures but he's excellent at the quiet ones : he won’t show up with flowers every week or scream his love from rooftops. but he’ll remember the exact way you like your coffee. he’ll hold the umbrella over you, not himself. he’ll charge your phone for you without being asked, buy you that thing you mentioned once in passing. he’ll learn your routines and sync up without ever saying why. and when you realize it’s love ? it’s not because he said it, it’s because he showed you a hundred tiny times and never asked for anything back.

you’re his safe place : he doesn’t open up fast — not because he doesn’t want to, but because he’s used to handling everything himself. but one night, he’s sitting next to you, and something shifts. he talks about his fears, the pressure, the insecurity. and he doesn’t look at you while he says it, like he’s afraid you’ll change your mind about him. but when you don’t flinch, when you reach for his hand instead? he swallows thickly and breathes out like he hasn’t in weeks. you don’t have to say much. just stay. and when you do, that’s when he knows: you’re home.

and then there’s the kind of kissing that makes you forget what day it is : wonbin kisses like he’s memorizing you. he doesn’t rush, doesn’t just go for your mouth — he touches your face first, traces the side of your jaw with his thumb, and waits for your eyes to close before leaning in. sometimes, he pauses right before your lips touch, breath mingling with yours, like he wants you to feel every second of it. and when he does kiss you, it’s slow. deep. unhurried like he’s got nowhere else to be. one hand on your waist, the other behind your neck, pulling you in just a little more. he kisses you again before you can even pull away. and again. until you’re both dazed and pressed together and his voice goes all low and soft when he says, “you’re driving me insane. you know that?” it’s never just about heat with him. it’s about being close. about feeling understood. about letting the world blur until it’s just your mouth and his hands and the silence between heartbeats. and if it’s late, the kind of night where the lights are off and his hoodie is hanging halfway off your shoulders — he’ll lean in again just to whisper, “stay with me a little longer.”

[doriku]

ㅤ𖹭 #𝗣𝟭𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗠𝗢𝗡𝗬 ::ㅤ𝗧𝕰𝗠𝗣𝗧𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝗔𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗘𝗔𝗖𝗛⠀⠀【...】

ㅤㅤ𝑛. ⠀﴾⠀cw. 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁. semi-pub sex, unprotected sex, oral, body worship, creampie﹙?﹚,﹙slight﹚overstimulation⠀━╋⠀﴿ ⎯⎯ 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋.

⠀͙ࣳ #𓂃 𝗆𝗐𝖾𝗈𝗂 ⁝ 𝑟𝑖𝑟𝑖 speaks . . every part is like 1.3k–1.7k words approx ( yes I counted bc I care ) apparently I can’t stfu when it comes to p1h boys being hor🦵🏻 on a beach ok bye ૮( ˶˃ᆺ˂˶ )

KEEHO

keeho’s the type who plays it cool until he really can’t. like, he’ll be cracking jokes, teasing you in front of the others, making sarcastic comments about sunscreen brands — until he sees the way your swimwear clings to your hips when you come out of the water. then it’s over. he’ll try to be subtle about it. leaning back on his elbows as he watches you towel off, sunglasses hiding the way his eyes drag over every inch of skin. but you notice. you always notice. especially when his jaw flexes and his leg starts bouncing, like he’s trying to stay calm. "come with me for a walk," he says eventually, voice low and too casual. like it’s no big deal. like he isn’t walking five steps ahead to hide how hard he’s getting in his board shorts. when you finally catch up, he grabs your wrist and pulls you down the path behind some dunes. the second you’re out of sight, he’s on you — palms on your waist, teeth on your neck, breath warm and desperate.

“you have to stop looking at me like that,” he mutters against your skin. “i’m one second away from doing something really fucking dumb.” you tell him to do it. and that’s all he needs. he pushes you gently against a tree, kisses you like he’s starving. his hands slide under your top, thumbing over bare skin, dragging goosebumps in their wake. he murmurs filth into your mouth, half-laughing at how breathless you get from just a little teasing. "this is a bad idea," he says, tugging down your swimsuit, his tone betraying how badly he wants it anyway. he fingers you first — sloppy, slow, his knuckles brushing places that make you whimper into his shoulder. he lives for that. for how wet you get just from the anticipation. he brings his fingers to his mouth, sucks them clean while watching your eyes roll back.

“you taste like the ocean,” he grins, “but sweeter.” when he finally slides in, it's hot and messy and fast — hips stuttering, hands gripping your thighs like he’ll lose it if you let go. he tries to be quiet. really tries. but when you moan his name and claw at his back, he groans against your throat, whispering, “fuck, you’re gonna get us caught.” you don’t care. neither does he. and when it’s over, when your legs are shaking and his forehead is pressed against your shoulder, he just laughs softly and says, “worth every grain of sand in my ass.”

THEO

theo is patience and pressure all at once. he’s calm, quiet, lets the others run wild in the water while he lounges on the sand beside you, warm and golden under the sun. he watches you more than anything else — hidden behind sunglasses, biting back smirks every time you stretch or adjust your bikini or lick salt off your lips without even thinking. you can feel it in the way he touches you, subtle at first. a hand resting low on your back. fingers brushing your thigh just a little too close. leaning in to say something, lips grazing your ear like he knows exactly what it does to you. “you’re driving me crazy,” he says lowly, voice all grit and velvet. “keep looking at me like that and I’ll lose it.” you laugh, thinking he’s teasing. he’s not. by the time the sun starts to dip and the rest of the group gets distracted with volleyball and snack runs, he leans into you with that familiar calm intensity in his eyes and murmurs, “come with me. now.”

he leads you behind a rocky bluff near the edge of the beach — secluded, shaded, soft sand under your feet and the crash of waves muffling the sound of your breathing. and before you can even ask what he’s doing, his hands are on your waist, his mouth on your neck, and the way he says, “been waiting all day to have you like this,” sends heat straight through you. he takes his time. always does. his hands are slow but firm, dragging up your thighs, slipping under your swimsuit with practiced ease. his voice is low and constant in your ear — dirty, tender, breathless. “look at you,” he groans, fingers sliding through how wet you already are. “can’t believe I get to touch you like this.”

he eats you out with pure devotion, kneeling in the sand like it’s sacred. eyes locked with yours, tongue deep and slow, hands gripping your thighs like they’re his anchor. he moans into you when you tug his hair, low and guttural and so needy. and when you try to squirm away, overwhelmed, he just pulls you closer and says, “don’t run, baby. I’m not done.” he makes you come like that, once, maybe twice — legs trembling, one hand clutching the rock behind you, the other tangled in his hair. and then he finally stands, tasting you on his lips, dragging down his swim shorts as he presses your back to the rock.

“gonna be quick,” he says, voice thick and strained. “I need you so bad.” he pushes in slow, watching your face the whole time, kissing your shoulder, your neck, your mouth — soft to balance the stretch of him filling you so perfectly. and then he fucks you. deep, steady strokes that make your toes curl and your head fall back. he holds you up with both arms, cradling you like you’re something breakable even while he’s ruining you.

“you feel too good,” he groans, hips snapping harder. “I’ll never get enough of this.” you’re both sweating, sand sticking to skin, the ocean roaring behind you, and still — he slows down halfway through, just to watch you. to take it all in. your pretty fucked-out face. the way you moan his name like a prayer. the way you look like you’re about to cry from how good it feels. he kisses you through the aftershocks, holds you close as you both catch your breath, his forehead pressed to yours, voice rough with love when he says, “you’re mine. always.”

JIUNG

jiung doesn’t play fair. not when he wants you. especially not when he knows he can’t have you yet. it starts when he sees you in your swimsuit — hair damp, skin glowing, that little smile on your face like you don’t even realize how insane you’re driving him. he’s quiet about it, at first. gives you a look over his sunglasses that burns hotter than the sun on your skin. licks his lips. smirks when you catch him staring. “you’re seriously wearing that in front of everyone?” he teases, voice low enough just for you. “baby, you’re evil.”

and it only gets worse. he walks behind you in the sand, hand brushing just beneath your ass as if by accident. whispers things into your ear when no one’s looking. “bend over like that again and I’ll fuck you right here.” he’s not kidding. he gets bold when the sun starts to drop, shadows stretching longer, everyone too busy with their own thing to notice how restless he is, how his hand keeps finding your thigh, how he won’t stop biting his lip.

“come here,” he finally says, grabbing your wrist, tugging you away from the bonfire and into the dark. you end up hidden behind a sand dune, lit only by the faint glow of the moon and the gold of the fire flickering in the distance. it’s warm, quiet, just the sound of waves and your heartbeat hammering in your ears. he crowds you against the dune, one hand cupping your face, the other already sliding under your bikini bottoms.

“knew you were this wet,” he groans, forehead pressed to yours, breath hot. “you’ve been begging for it all day.” and you have. he kisses you like he’s starving, messy, desperate, teeth clashing. his fingers slide through you so easily it’s obscene, and he watches your face the whole time, eyes dark and locked in.

“say it,” he whispers. “say you want me.”

“I want you,” you pant, and he groans low, like it physically hurts him. he doesn’t even bother getting fully undressed, just pushes your bikini aside, yanks his shorts down far enough, and pulls your leg up around his waist. and then he’s in you, thick and hot and deep, both of you gasping like you’ve been holding your breath all day. he thrusts hard, fast, hips snapping into you like he means it. “you’ve been teasing me for hours,” he growls into your neck. “now take it. take all of it.”

he grabs your ass, pulls you closer, grinds his hips slow and deep just to watch your legs shake. “so good for me,” he murmurs, licking into your mouth. “so fucking tight. so fucking mine.” you’re gasping, moaning, nails digging into his shoulders, and he’s loving every second of it—fucking you like he wants to ruin the memory of any other touch, like this is the only thing that matters in the world. when you come, it’s with his name punched out of your lungs, and he groans into your skin, hips stuttering as he follows with a low, filthy moan that you swear echoes across the water.

he doesn’t pull out right away. just holds you, both of you breathing hard, forehead to forehead again, fingers still gripping your thigh. “you’re mine,” he whispers, brushing his lips over yours. “gonna take you again when we get back. over and over until you can’t walk.” and you know he will.

INTAK

intak’s always had a thing for teasing in public. doesn’t need a bed. doesn’t need a room. doesn’t even need privacy, really. just needs you. and the second he sees you stretched out on a towel in that tiny bikini, eyes closed, chest rising with every lazy breath — yeah, he’s done for. he straddles the line between playful and dangerous real fast. he lies down beside you, one arm propping his head up while the other lazily drapes over your stomach. “you’re doing this on purpose,” he murmurs, voice close to your ear. “looking like that, laying here like you want me to drag you off somewhere.”

you peek at him through your lashes, smiling like you’re innocent. he scoffs under his breath and slides his hand lower — over your stomach, under the knot of your bikini bottoms, just enough to make you gasp. “yeah?” he whispers. “you gonna let me?” you nod, eyes wide, thighs already pressing together. he waits until it’s darker, until the others are distracted down the beach. then he grabs your hand, pulls you up, and leads you down a quiet stretch of sand — until the voices are gone, and the only sounds are the ocean and your heartbeat thumping behind your ribs.

he turns to face you, cupping your jaw with both hands, eyes on your mouth. “been thinking about you all day,” he says, brushing his thumb over your lip. “how you’d sound if I fucked you right here.” he kisses you slow — lips soft but heavy with intent, mouth pressing yours open so his tongue can slide in deep. his hands drop to your hips, fingers tugging the strings of your bikini bottoms loose like he’s done it a thousand times. he drops to his knees in the sand before you can speak. looks up at you like you’re already trembling for him. then pulls your bikini aside and drags his tongue through your folds, slow and firm, until your legs nearly buckle.

“hold onto me,” he mumbles against you. “don’t fall.” he licks you like he’s got nowhere else to be, like the ocean isn’t crashing beside you, like he’s meant to be on his knees between your thighs. he flicks and circles and sucks on your clit until your hips jerk and your fingers are tangled in his hair, pulling. you came like that, right against his mouth, with your whole body twitching, and he groans like he’s the one falling apart.

“so sweet,” he breathes, licking you once more before standing. “I’m not done.” his swim trunks drop in one smooth movement, and then he’s pushing you down onto the sand, your legs around his waist, cock heavy against your entrance. “you want it?” he asks, teasing his tip through your slick folds. “I want it,” you pant, and he smirks before thrusting in — slow and deep until you’re gasping, clawing at his back.

he fucks you like he’s showing off. hips rolling into yours with that dancer rhythm, body flexing perfectly with every movement. “god, you feel so good,” he growls into your ear. “tight little thing — been waiting all day for this pussy.” you moan for him, back arching off the sand, and he fucks you harder — hips snapping, breath ragged, one hand gripping your throat just enough to make your head spin. “you’re mine,” he hisses. “say it.”

“I’m yours,” you cry out, and he groans, pounding into you so deep it makes your whole body shake. he comes with a low, broken sound, collapsing over you with his lips against your neck, still grinding his hips to push it all in. he doesn’t pull out right away. doesn’t move. just kisses you, slow and sweet, and whispers, “next time I’m fucking you in the ocean.”

SOUL

OH MY GOSH MY BABY SOUL #2 :( !!!! soul has been watching you play around in the water all day — laughing, splashing, ducking under waves like you’re some wild thing made of sun and salt. he’s quiet about it, just smiles when you glance his way. but there’s heat behind his gaze. something you feel every time your eyes meet. by the time the sun starts to dip, he’s twitchy. sitting beside you on the sand, eyes fixed on the horizon, but his fingers won’t stay still. they brush your thigh. your hip. the back of your neck.

then, without warning, his lips are at your ear. “come with me.” his voice is low. controlled. but there’s a shake in it. like he’s trying not to fall apart. he grabs your hand and walks you past the rocks, where the sand turns smoother and no one’s around. the wind picks up. the waves crash louder. and he pulls you in, just enough to get your legs wet. lets the water lap at your calves while he stands behind you, arms around your waist, breath hot against your neck.

“been thinking about you,” he whispers. “all day. the way you look in that bikini. the way your skin tastes when it’s salty.” his hands slide up your stomach. then higher. cupping your breasts under the wet fabric while his thumbs circle over your nipples. “you feel that?” he murmurs. “you feel what you do to me?” his hard cock is pressing against your ass now, straining through his swim shorts.

he grinds just enough for you to feel it. and then he’s turning you around, kissing you like he’s desperate. wet, hungry, needy. his hands grip your hips like he’s holding back. “tell me you want it,” he says, lips brushing yours. “here. with the ocean around us.”

“I want it,” you whisper, already trembling. he moves quickly — pushing your bikini bottoms to the side and lifting your leg over his hip, so he can slide his cock between your thighs. he doesn’t fuck around. he pushes in slow, letting you feel every inch, until you’re full and gasping and clutching at his shoulders. his eyes never leave yours. not once. “you’re perfect,” he breathes. “tight. warm. mine.” he fucks you like the waves are chasing him, rocking into you with smooth, deep thrusts, water splashing around your ankles with every movement. the sound of your bodies moving together is filthy, echoing in the open air. he groans when you clench around him, fingers digging into your waist. “god, I could stay inside you forever.” you’re moaning for him now, eyes glassy, head tilted back while he thrusts harder. deeper.

the rhythm picks up. your leg trembles around his hip. and when he reaches between you to rub your clit, you came hard, back arching, mouth open, voice swallowed by the ocean. he follows seconds later, panting, lips on your collarbone as he fills you up, still holding you tight. when he pulls out, he tucks your bikini back in place with shaking fingers, kisses the corner of your mouth, and whispers, “next time? I want you underwater.”

JONGSEOB

aaaa seobbie > < you notice the shift in jongseob after lunch. his jaw’s tight. his tongue’s pressed to the inside of his cheek. and when you bend over to pick something up, his gaze lingers too long — locked on your ass, lips parted, hands flexing at his sides like he’s dying to touch. he doesn’t say much. just watches. watches as you stretch out on the towel, watches how the sunscreen gleams on your thighs, watches you lick salt off your fingers like you don’t even know what you’re doing to him. but you do. oh, you do.

“baby,” he finally murmurs, crouching beside you, voice rough, “come with me. just for a minute.” you barely make it past the dune before he grabs your waist and pins you against a palm tree, breath hot against your neck. “you’ve been teasing me all fucking day.” his hands are already sliding under the hem of your bikini bottoms, gripping your ass, grinding his hard cock against you through his swim shorts. “look at what you did to me.” you glance down, the outline is so obvious. thick and aching and twitching against your body like it’s been waiting for hours.

“take it out,” you whisper, and he growls. his hands move fast, tugging your bottoms to the side, shoving his shorts down just enough. his cock springs free, heavy and flushed, precum leaking from the tip. and he’s not wasting time. he wraps a hand around himself, lines it up, and rubs the head right against your soaked folds.

“you’re already this wet?” he smirks, dragging it up and down your slit. “fuck. i’m not pulling out.” then he pushes in. deep. slow. his mouth falls open like he’s trying to memorize how it feels. the stretch, the heat, the way your pussy pulls him in greedily. he grips your hips, leans his chest against your back, and starts thrusting — shallow at first, then deeper. rougher. filthy. every slap of skin sounds louder in the stillness behind the dune.

“you feel so fucking good,” he pants. “tight as hell. fuck, I missed this.” his hand snakes around to your front, fingers working fast against your clit. he knows exactly what to do, exactly how to make you fall apart for him. the pressure builds quick, your legs shaking, mouth open, whining his name like a prayer. “come for me,” he groans, voice cracking. “now. right now.”

and when you do, moaning, pulsing around him, going limp in his arms — he thrusts twice more and spills deep inside you, hips jerking, hands clutching your body like he never wants to let go. you’re both still catching your breath when he kisses the back of your neck, smile curling against your skin. “next time,” he mutters, “i’m fucking you in the water.”

[doriku]

riize as high school boyfriends pls jsjssjjss 😭 i need this level of delulu rn

-🩰

﹙𖹭﹚ ── 𝖱𝖨𝖨𝖹𝖤 𝖠𝖲 𝖸𝖮𝖴𝖱 𝖧𝖨𝖦𝖧𝖲𝖢𝖧𝖮𝖮𝖫 𝖡𝖮𝖸𝖥𝖱𝖨𝖤𝖭𝖣

ㅤㅤ𝑐𝑤.ㅤ[ fluff fluff, errr kissing cs they love ya .ᐟ ]

⠀͙ࣳ #𓂃 𝗆𝗐𝖾𝗈𝗂 ⁝ 𝑟𝑖𝑟𝑖 speaks . . aaa 🩰 anon !! this is sooo cute :[

SHOTARO

shotaro is the definition of a warm hug personified. he's that boyfriend who waits outside your class every day with a snack and a smile that makes your chest physically ache. always a little breathless from rushing, always brushing his fringe out of his eyes, grinning like he just won a prize when he sees you. he’s not the loudest or the flashiest, but he’s consistently sweet in ways that stick :D he sends you videos of puppies in the middle of the night. keeps every note you’ve ever passed him, even the dumb ones about lunch. he likes to hold your pinky instead of your hand when he’s shy. but when he’s feeling confident? arm around your shoulder, soft kisses on your temple, whispering, “you’re my favorite part of the day.”

he doesn’t care if you’re barefaced or late or ranting about group projects. he listens like everything you say matters. and when you vent about school stress, he doesn’t try to fix it — he just holds your hand tighter, kisses your knuckles, and says, “let’s skip school and become professional huggers. we’d make bank.” and on rainy days, he’ll show up at your door in a hoodie that’s too big, soaked sneakers squeaking, holding bubble tea in one hand and his playlist in the other. “movie day?” he asks, already kicking off his shoes. you let him in, of course. you always do.

he hums along to the movie soundtrack, sings softly under his breath until you fall asleep on his lap. and when your parents ask if he wants dinner, he answers with, “only if I get to stay a little longer.” and you swear you see your mom smile knowingly.

EUNSEOK

your elegant, unreadable boyfriend who makes heart eyes at you when you’re not looking and always smells like clean laundry !! dating eunseok is like having a secret — something private and precious and safe. he’s calm, composed, soft-spoken in class, but the second you’re alone? the teasing comes out. the subtle smiles. the way he brushes your hair back and murmurs, “you look tired. wanna nap on me?” : ( he remembers everything. the day you got your braces off. your coffee order. the name of the kid who made you cry in middle school. you never told him that one — he just knew.

he doesn’t flirt the traditional way. instead, he buys you those little fruit jellies you like. offers you his jacket before you ask. calls you “mine” in a whisper only you can hear. he’ll lean down in the hallway and go, “your collar’s crooked,” before fixing it, then winking like he definitely did that on purpose. his texts are rare but always thoughtful. a candid photo of the sky with “made me think of you.” a screenshot of an inside joke. a selfie with a sleepy smile and the caption, “missed you today.”

and when he kisses you, it's like everything around you stills. hands gentle on your cheeks, his forehead resting against yours as he breathes, “you make everything quieter.”

WONBIN

wonbin is the boy you shouldn’t fall for — the one who's too pretty for his own good, always leaning back in his chair with a lopsided smile and a pencil tucked behind his ear. but then he tugs your sleeve during lunch and says, “come hear something I wrote,” and suddenly, it’s over for you. he doesn’t talk much in class, but when it’s just the two of you ??? he’s hilarious. deadpan jokes, soft teasing, the kind of humor that makes you laugh until you can’t breathe. he acts all chill, but you catch him staring sometimes — eyes soft, mouth twitching like he’s memorizing your smile.

his love language is presence. he doesn’t text all day, but he shows up when it matters ! outside your cram school with snacks, at your club showcase with flowers he picked himself. and when he walks you home, he carries your bag and lets his fingers brush yours until you're brave enough to lace them together.in the music room, he lets you sit beside him while he plays guitar, humming under his breath until the melody turns into a love song just for you. and when you joke that he probably plays that for everyone, he just looks at you and says, “only you.”

he’s the type to act unfazed but blushes when you kiss his cheek. and if you fall asleep on his shoulder during study group ? he’ll sit there like a statue, too scared to move, staring down at you like you hung the stars. and when you ask what he’s thinking, he shrugs and goes, “just.. lucky I met you.”

SUNGCHAN

sungchan is that kind of boyfriend who’s everyone’s favorite but only cares about impressing you. he's popular without trying — tall, loud-laughing, always tossing a basketball or joking with teachers — but when you’re near ?? tunnel vision. everything else blurs. he flirts constantly. sends you dumb pick-up lines during class. dramatically offers his jacket when it’s mildly chilly. leans against your locker like he’s in a drama and says, “miss me?” even if he saw you five minutes ago.

he’s clingy but charming about it. will literally throw a fake tantrum if you forget to text him good morning. texts things like, “u like me right? say it or i’ll cry fr” and when you do say it, he replies with ten heart emojis and a selfie of him blowing a kiss. you’ll be walking home, his hand swinging in yours, and he’ll suddenly stop and go, “do you think we’ll still be together after high school?” and when you say, “yeah?” he beams so big you swear your heart skips.

he calls your parents sir and ma’am. helps your siblings with their homework. is unreasonably good with kids. but then he turns to you and whispers something stupid like, “you’re so hot when you’re mad at math.” and now you’re flustered and failing geometry.

he always makes you feel like you're the main character in a high school romcom. he’d dance with you in an empty classroom just because your favorite song came on. and when he kisses you ?!? he grins halfway through, because he's just that happy to be yours.

SEUNGHAN

seunghan is the boy who everyone thinks is a little mysterious, a little too cool, a little unreadable .. but the second you start dating him he’s a mess. a soft, lovesick, chaos-tinted mess. he’ll pretend to be unbothered in public, but the second you’re alone he’s flopping onto your lap like, “you didn’t text me for two hours. I almost perished.”

he’s sharp-witted, a little sarcastic, always teasing you like it’s his job. says stuff like, “you’re so annoying. i’m obsessed with you.” he’ll flick your forehead for stealing his fries but then feed you one himself. calls you a menace but refuses to walk to class without you.

he’s clingy in lowkey ways. his hand is always on you, your wrist, your sleeve, your pinky hooked with his. he’ll act like you’re the one who can’t live without him, but then he texts “come outside” at midnight just so he can see you for five minutes. and when you do ? he pulls you into the softest hug and mumbles, “okaaay. I can sleep now.”

his locker has little things of yours, your hair clip, a folded doodle you gave him, the bracelet you thought he lost. he keeps everything. never admits it. just goes “don’t look in there” and blushes if you catch him.

when he gets jealous, he tries to be chill but ends up weirdly petty. you’ll laugh at another guy’s joke and suddenly seunghan’s like, “wow. he’s hilarious. maybe he should be your boyfriend.” and you’re like, “are you twelve??” and he’s just crossing his arms, waiting for you to kiss his pout away.

but deep down ? he’s so soft for you. sends voice notes when he misses you. stares at you like he’s memorizing your whole face. and when you catch him doing it, he just shrugs and says, “you’re my favorite view.”

and if you ever say, “I don’t feel like myself today,” he’ll pull you into his arms and whisper, “you’re still my person. even on your worst day.”

SOHEE

sohee is your surprise boyfriend. the one who doesn’t talk much in class but texts you entire paragraphs at 1 a.m. he’s lowkey, mysterious, the type to keep his hoodie over his head during lectures — yet somehow, he always knows when you're upset. he doesn’t do PDA often, but when he does, IT’S LETHAL. slipping his pinky through yours during assemblies. tugging your sleeve when he wants your attention. standing too close in the hallway so his arm brushes yours with every step.

he sends you songs that feel like how he looks at you. doesn’t say much with his mouth, but his eyes are loud !!! always watching you, always soft. he has this habit of smiling to himself when you talk, like he’s memorizing everything. he’ll walk you home after cram school, not saying a word, just sharing his playlist. and when you reach your house, he pauses, takes off his headphones, puts one in your ear, and says, “wait, listen to this part. it’s you.”

and when he kisses you — finally, shyly — it’s behind the library, hands in his pockets, lips gentle and unsure, followed by a mumbled, “i’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

he acts cool, but his search history is full of “cute nicknames for gf” and “how to kiss without being awkward.” you catch him once, and he turns red to the tips of his ears. “don’t look at my tabs,” he groans. “I was being efficient.”

ANTON

anton is the soft-spoken boy who everyone thinks is shy, until they see him with you. around others, he’s all hushed tones and awkward nods, but when it’s just you ? the warmth comes out. the boy who rambles about his favorite bands. who laughs so hard he hiccups. who always, always reaches for your hand first. he’s reliable in a way that feels rare. he walks you to class every morning, even if it makes him late. carries your bag without asking. has your favorite snack memorized and stocked in his locker “just in case you’re having a bad day.”

he sends you the best playlists — slow songs, comfort songs, songs that sound like laying in bed and talking about everything and nothing. and when he sends you one at 2AM with a message like "this one feels like us," you feel it in your chest. when you’re upset, he doesn’t pry. he just sits next to you, shoulder to shoulder, until you’re ready. and when you are, he pulls you close, presses a soft kiss to your hair, and says, “whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together.”

he’s the type to keep a photo of you in his wallet. to doodle your name in the margins of his notebook. to tell his mom about you over dinner. not in a big flashy way, just in the way that says you’re part of his life now, like it’s the most natural thing.

and when you look at him like he hung the moon, he blushes hard and mutters, “stop looking at me like that, I might combust.” but he doesn't look away :c

[doriku]

ㅤ𖹭 #𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗡 ::ㅤ𝗛𝗢𝗠𝗘 𝗜𝗦 𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝖄𝗢𝗨 𝗔𝗥𝗘⠀⠀【...】

ㅤㅤ𝑛. ⠀﴾⠀cw. 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁. manipulation, toxic relationship, dubcon elements, rough handling, emotional coercion, implied stalking.⠀━╋⠀﴿⠀ 𝖾𝗑!𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇 ⎯⎯ 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋.

you told yourself it was just closure. that it would be quick — that you’d say what you needed to say, then go. that if you didn’t let sungchan see you cry, it would mean he didn’t win.

you kept repeating that in your head as you walked the familiar path to his apartment, each step getting heavier, as if your body knew better than your heart what this really was.

you shouldn’t have come here. the hallway felt too quiet. the air too still. the second you raised your fist to knock, your pulse jumped like prey caught in headlights. it didn’t matter how hard you tried to steel yourself — your hand still trembled.

your fingers still clenched around your keys, digging into your skin, like the sharp metal might somehow protect you.

and when the door opened, when you saw him standing there in a black tee and grey sweats, damp hair falling over his forehead like he’d just stepped out of the shower, barefoot and quiet and so fucking calm — you forgot how to speak.

sungchan didn’t look surprised. didn’t even blink.

“…you came,” he said simply, there was no smile, no warmth. just that steady gaze, sharp and unreadable.

your voice barely scraped past your throat. “i won’t stay long.”

he stepped aside without a word. no resistance, no sarcasm — and somehow that made it worse. you crossed the threshold, keeping close to the edge of the room like some guest instead of someone who used to fall asleep in his bed.

you didn’t let your eyes drift to the couch. you didn’t sit. you didn’t breathe too deep because everything in here still smelled like him. behind you, the soft click of the door closing sealed you in.

you turned slowly, kept your back straight like it might stop your heart from caving in. “i just came to talk.”

he nodded once, like he was listening, like this was casual. he leaned a shoulder against the wall across from you, arms crossed, head tilted slightly — too at ease, too knowing.

you didn’t let that distract you.

“sungchan…” your throat felt dry. “this isn’t working.”

his brows lifted the faintest bit. “what isn’t?”

“this,” you said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “us.”

still no reaction. not the anger you’d braced for. not even confusion. just silence — practiced and calm, as if he’d already had this conversation alone, over and over, and now he was just waiting for you to catch up.

you tightened your grip on the keys again. “you’re controlling. you keep tabs on me. i don’t tell you where i’m going but you still show up. and…” your breath caught. “i found the photos, sungchan. the ones in your deleted folder. of me walking home. laughing. eating lunch with friends.”

he didn’t flinch. didn’t pretend not to know what you were talking about.

“you think that’s normal?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. “you think that’s love?”

his expression didn’t change. “i think that’s protection.”

you stared at him, hollow and stunned. “you followed me.”

“i made sure you were safe,” he said simply. “you forget to lock your door sometimes. you walk alone after dark. that guy on the subway never got your number because i was sitting five seats behind him.”

your stomach turned, icy and hot all at once. he pushed off the wall slowly and took a step toward you — deliberate, unrushed.

“you say it’s control,” he murmured, “but i’m the only one who’s ever paid enough attention to know you needed it.”

you stepped back instinctively. he followed, measured and calm. “this isn’t some kind of twisted care,” you whispered. he was close enough now that you could feel the heat radiating off him.

“isn’t it?” he said, tilting his head. “you said this isn’t working. but you didn’t say you stopped wanting me.”

his hand lifted — slow, telegraphed — and brushed the edge of your jaw. you told yourself not to react. not to lean into it. but your body always betrayed you with him.

“did you?” he asked quietly. “did you stop wanting me?”

you opened your mouth, but the words never came. he stepped closer again, hand settling on your hip, his voice sinking lower. “you’re not leaving.”

“don’t,” you whispered. “don’t do this—”

but he was already kissing you. it wasn’t soft, it wasn’t tender. it was possessive — hungry, desperate in the way only obsession can be.

he kissed you like he was reclaiming you — like he never believed you were gone in the first place. his mouth pushed hard against yours, tongue slipping in before you even had a chance to pull away, and your whole body arched in response.

you hated that it felt good. his hands found your waist like they never forgot the shape of it, and the next thing you knew, your back was against the wall.

his hips pressed flush to yours, and you felt him — already hard, already thick and heavy against your thigh, and your body gave itself away all over again.

“you missed this,” he breathed into your skin, lips trailing down your neck. he found that spot under your jaw, the one that always made your breath stutter, and sucked just hard enough to make your thighs press together.

“don’t—” your voice cracked. “don’t make this into something it’s not.”

he grinned against your throat. “i’m not making anything,” he said. “i’m reminding you.”

and then he lifted you, arms locked under your thighs, like carrying you was second nature. you clung to his shoulders out of instinct, legs wrapping around his waist like they’d never forgotten where they belonged.

you knew you should push him away, but you didn’t. he carried you straight to the bedroom — not rushed, not fumbling, just moving like he knew you wouldn’t stop him. the room was exactly the same.

the sheets you used to sleep on. the pillows that smelled like his shampoo. the faint chill of the ac humming like white noise around the silence between you.

he laid you down like something precious and broken, and you hated how easily you sank into it.

your clothes came off piece by piece. he wasn’t careless — he was reverent. his hands slid under your shirt, over your ribs, taking his time as if relearning every inch of you.

his fingers were warm, calloused in the right places, brushing just under the swell of your breast, then dragging lower, making you twitch and ache before they even got between your thighs.

his mouth followed his hands — slow, open kisses pressed to your stomach, the inside of your thigh, then up, up, until he kissed your lips again like he meant to ruin you with it.

he knelt between your legs, breath shaky now, cock flushed and hard as it rested against your inner thigh. he held himself there for a moment, looking down at you with a gaze that almost looked soft — but there was hunger in it, a dark possessiveness that had never gone away.

“still so fucking soft,” he murmured. his lips brushed your ankle, then your calf, kissing his way up again. “still mine.”

he dragged the head of his cock slowly through your slick folds, teasing your clit with lazy circles until you whimpered. he pushed in just the tip, then pulled out again — once, twice — until your hips lifted on their own, chasing the stretch.

“you’re already dripping for me,” he whispered. “i haven’t even started.”

and then he sank in all the way. the stretch was deep, unbearable and perfect. you gasped at the pressure — it felt like too much, but your body opened up for him like it had never closed off.

his cock filled you entirely, thick and hard and aching with every twitch inside you. he didn’t move, not yet, his hand came to rest at your throat, gentle, grounding.

“say it,” he murmured. “say you’re mine.” but you didn’t. so he started to move. he fucked you slow. deep. long thrusts that dragged every inch of him along your walls.

your back arched. your breath caught. your eyes fluttered and he didn’t stop — didn’t speed up, didn’t get sloppy — he just kept going, kept pressing inside you like it was where he belonged.

his fingers tightened on your waist, his other hand sliding under your thigh to hold you open. the sound of it — your slick, the wet slap of skin — echoed through the room, filthy and loud. he groaned low in his throat when your cunt clenched around him.

“fuck, baby..” he leaned down, kissed the corner of your mouth, your cheekbone, your temple. “no one else gets you like this. no one ever will.”

you turned your head away. he grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him.

“say it,” he growled again. “or i’ll fuck you until you do.”

you didn’t speak. you only moaned. your hips moved against his, matching his rhythm, chasing your high.

he shifted suddenly — one hand hooked under your leg, folding it up to his shoulder. the new angle made you cry out. he fucked into you harder now, deeper, every thrust hitting that spot inside you that made your stomach clench.

your orgasm hit fast. your back bowed off the mattress, nails dragging down his arms as your cunt tightened around him, pulsing hard. your voice broke on a sob as your body trembled under him, overwhelmed and full.

he fucked you through it. didn’t stop, didn’t even slow.

“god, you’re still perfect,” he whispered against your neck. “you can lie all you want — your body never will.”

he kept going, chasing his own release now. his thrusts grew sharper, breath ragged as he slammed into you with growing urgency. his hand came back to your throat, holding, not choking — just keeping you right there beneath him, right where you belonged.

“gonna fill you up,” he panted. “gonna fuck it into you so deep, you’ll feel me for days.” you didn’t say a word. your body begged for him.

he groaned loud, low, as he came — buried deep, hips flush, cock twitching inside you as he spilled everything he had into you. it was hot, thick, warm, and you felt it all.

your body clenched again at the sensation, your mouth parted in silent shock. he didn’t pull out, of course he didn’t.

he collapsed over you, still sheathed deep, both arms wrapped around your waist like he was anchoring himself to your skin. you lay there with him inside you, still stretched, still full, as his breath slowed against your cheek.

and in the quiet, as your pulse steadied, as the fog in your brain started to clear, he kissed your jaw and whispered it again — soft, certain, final.

“see? you don’t need to leave. you were already home.”

[doriku]

ㅤ𖹭 #𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗞 ::ㅤ𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 𝗧𝗢 𝕱𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗦⠀⠀【...】

ㅤㅤ𝑛. ⠀﴾⠀cw. 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁. ﹙heavy﹚angst, hurt w no comfort, unprotected sex, fwbs⠀━╋⠀﴿⠀ 𝖿𝗐𝖻!𝖾𝗎𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗈𝗄 ⎯⎯ 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋.

ㅤㅤ .ㅤ( ℬ𝗔𝗖𝗞 𝗧𝗢 𝗙𝗥𝗜𝐸𝗡𝗗𝗦 )ㅤ'ㅤ, 𝒙𝒙ㅤㅤ#𝘚𝘖𝘔𝘉𝘙

❝ 𝗁𝘰𝗐 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.

[doriku]

⠀ᜒᜒᣞ🌸ᝓ᜔៝ キ 𝗠𝗪𝗘𝗢𝗜⁝𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝕷𝗜𝗦𝗧

ㅤ＃ some works on this masterlist may include mature or suggestive content. please check warnings, read responsibly, and take care of yourself (,,>﹏<,,)

### ◞ 𝗡𝗖𝗧 𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗠

ㅤ➞ㅤdreaming 'bout you !

���ㅤ마크 이ㅤmark lee

▹ㅤ黄仁俊ㅤhuang renjun

▹ㅤ이제노ㅤlee jeno

▹ㅤ이동혁ㅤlee donghyuck

▹ㅤ나재민ㅤna jaemin

▹ㅤ钟辰乐ㅤzhong chenle

▹ㅤ박지성ㅤpark jisung

ㅤㅤ━━ㅤ𝗝𝗨𝗦𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗧𝗜𝗣ㅤ﹙wc. 780%﹚

### ◞ 𝗪𝗔𝗬𝗩

ㅤ➞ㅤcall me !

▹ㅤ钱锟ㅤqian kun

▹ㅤชิตพล ลี้ชัยพรกุลㅤchittaphon leechaiyapornkul

▹ㅤ董思成ㅤdong sicheng

▹ㅤ肖德俊ㅤxiao dejun

▹ㅤ黃冠亨ㅤwong kunhang

▹ㅤ刘扬扬ㅤliu yangyang

### ◞ 𝗥𝗜𝗜𝗭𝗘

ㅤ➞ㅤthis is our odyssey !

▹ㅤ0T7 :

ㅤㅤ━━ㅤ𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗠 𝗔𝗦 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗛𝗦 𝗕𝗙ㅤ﹙𝗁𝖼.﹚

▹ㅤosaki shotaroㅤ大崎将太郎

▹ㅤsong eunseokㅤ홍은석

ㅤㅤ━━ㅤ𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 𝗧𝗢 𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗦ㅤ﹙wc. 1,590%﹚

▹ㅤjung sungchanㅤ정성찬

ㅤㅤ━━ㅤ𝗛𝗢𝗠𝗘 𝗜𝗦 𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗔𝗥𝗘ㅤ﹙wc. n,a%﹚

▹ㅤpark wonbinㅤ박원빈

▹ㅤhong seunghanㅤ홍승한

▹ㅤlee soheeㅤ이소희

▹ㅤlee chanyoungㅤ이찬영

### ◞ 𝗣𝗛𝟭𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗠𝗢𝗡𝗬

ㅤ➞ㅤI'm a pretty, pretty boy !

▹ㅤ0T6 :

ㅤㅤ━━ㅤ𝗧𝗘𝗠𝗣𝗧𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝗔𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗘𝗔𝗖𝗛ㅤ﹙𝗁𝖼.﹚

▹ㅤyoon keehoㅤ윤기호

▹ㅤchoi taeyangㅤ최태양

▹ㅤchoi jiungㅤ최지웅

▹ㅤhwang intakㅤ황인탁

▹ㅤhaku shotaㅤ白翔太

▹ㅤkim jongseobㅤ김종섭

### ◞ &𝗧𝗘𝗔𝗠

ㅤ➞ㅤ飽き飽きしてる cliché, no cliché !

▹ㅤ古賀祐大ㅤkoga yudai

▹ㅤ村田風雅ㅤmurata fuma

▹ㅤ王奕翔ㅤwang yixiang

▹ㅤ변의주ㅤbyun eui joo

▹ㅤ中北優真ㅤnakakita yuma

▹ㅤ朝倉穣ㅤasakura jo

▹ㅤ重田美琉愛ㅤshigeta harua

▹ㅤ高山りㅤtakayama riki

▹ㅤ宏田力ㅤhirota riki

[doriku]

ㅤ𖹭 #𝗝𝗜𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚 ::ㅤ𝗝𝗨𝗦𝗧 𝕿𝗛𝗘 𝗧𝗜𝗣⠀⠀【...】

ㅤㅤ𝑛. ⠀﴾⠀cw. 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁. cockwarming, unprotected sex, a lil degradation, overstimulation﹙slight﹚⠀━╋⠀﴿⠀ 𝖻𝖿!𝗃𝗂𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀 ⎯⎯ 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋.

you’re already in jisung's lap when he starts to fall apart. not even moving — just sitting, like he asked you to. his cock is buried inside you to the hilt, and somehow, that’s what’s killing him the most.

the stillness. the restraint. the heat of you clenching around him like your body can’t tell this was supposed to be a pause. his fingers dig into your hips, holding you down like he’s trying to keep himself from doing something stupid.

his back is pressed against the headboard, legs spread wide, and you’re straddling him with nothing but your oversized sleep shirt hitched up over your thighs. you aren’t wearing anything underneath. he knows, he’s the one who told you to take it off.

the moment you sank down on him, he swore under his breath, low and broken, like it hurt. and now, maybe ten minutes later, he’s still swearing. still breathing hard. still losing his grip on the promise he made.

“just the tip,” he’d said, voice dark and velvety against your neck. “let me put it in, baby. just sit on it, yeah? we won’t move. just wanna feel you for a bit.”

you had nodded. you always do, soft and pliant and so good for him. you’d let him guide the head of his cock into your soaked entrance, had gasped when he didn’t stop, when he pressed all the way in, thick and aching and slow. you’re wet enough to take it easily, but the stretch still left your mouth parted in shock, breath stuttering. you clung to his shoulders and he kissed your cheek like an apology.

then he told you not to move, so you didn’t. and that’s the problem.

now he’s trembling under you, hands gripping your hips like your body is the last stable thing in the world. his jaw is tight, brows furrowed, his mouth pressed to the curve of your shoulder, not kissing, just there, breathing hot and fast against your skin like he’s seconds away from begging.

“fuck,” he mumbles. “you’re so warm. you’re so—shit, you’re squeezing me.”

you don’t mean to. It’s not on purpose. you’re trying to behave, sitting still just like he told you, but the way he fills you makes it impossible to relax.

you can feel everything, every twitch, every pulse, every little movement of his hips under yours that he tries so hard to control. he’s thick and hot and pressing against that spot inside you without even thrusting. you feel stretched to the edge, stuffed so full it borders on unbearable.

he curses again under his breath and leans his head back to stare at the ceiling. his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. one of his hands lifts, drags through his hair, like he’s trying to cool down. it doesn’t work.

“you don’t even know,” he groans, voice low and wrecked. “you don’t even fucking know what you’re doing to me right now.”

you look down at him, his flushed cheeks, the sweat starting to gather at his temple, the way his lips part every time you clench just slightly around him without meaning to.

“i’m not doing anything,” you whisper.

he looks up at you like you’ve just committed a crime. like he’s been stabbed.

“exactly,” he says, nearly breathless. “you’re not doing anything and I still wanna flip you over and fuck you stupid.”

that makes your breath catch. your hands curl in the fabric of his shirt. he feels it. his hands flex, fingertips pressing bruises into your skin without meaning to.

“you’re sitting on my cock like it belongs to you,” he murmurs, voice dropping lower, “and you’re so fucking good—not even moving. you’re just taking it. letting me feel how warm you are. how wet. how tight.”

he bucks up into you — not enough to fuck, just enough to make you gasp.

“baby,” he says, voice unraveling, “’m gonna lose it.”

your thighs squeeze around his hips, and his head tips back again with a groan.

“I was trying to be good,” he mutters, like he’s confessing something awful. “I just wanted to feel you. just wanted a little.”

he looks back at you, wide-eyed, flushed, barely holding on.

“but now I need more.”

the words fall out of him like he’s helpless against them. he is. you can see it, the tension in his arms, the wrecked look in his eyes, the way his cock twitches inside you like it’s begging for friction.

he’s past the point of pretending. past control. his fingers flex at your hips, and suddenly he’s pulling you forward — not harsh, but urgent, like he can’t stand another second of not moving.

“bounce for me, baby,” he whispers, voice hoarse and shaking. “just a little. please.”

you hesitate, shy, unsure, still not quite believing how wrecked he is just from sitting still inside you. but the moment you shift your hips, even slightly, he chokes out a moan so raw it makes your thighs tremble.

“that’s it,” he gasps. “just like that. fuck—fuck, I knew you’d feel like this.”

you roll your hips again, slower this time, testing the way he stretches you, the drag of his cock against your walls, how deep he hits even without effort. his hands slide down to your ass, squeezing, guiding, urging. his eyes are locked on your face now, feverish with need.

“go ahead,” he says, voice pitched high with want. “ride me, baby. take what you want.”

you start to move — small bounces at first, shy and careful. but he meets you halfway, hips jerking up with every grind, every rock of your body, until your pace grows clumsy, frantic, all rhythm gone in the haze of how good he feels. his moans get louder, his grip tighter. the desperation is everywhere now, flooding the room like heat.

“so t-tight,” jisung groans. “I can feel everything. you’re milking me.”

you whimper at the way he says it, at the raw praise in his voice. his hands are all over you now, sliding up your back, clutching your waist, trailing under your shirt to grip your ribs like he needs to hold you together while you fall apart.

“look at you,” he murmurs, dazed. “so good for me. my pretty girl, taking it so well..”

your head falls forward, forehead resting against his as you sink down harder. the wet sound of your bodies meeting fills the room, obscene and desperate. jisung’s eyes flutter shut, his mouth parted, sweat clinging to his neck.

“I was trying to behave,” he whispers. “I swear I was— but the second you sat down, I couldn’t think straight.”

you whine, riding him faster now, driven by the way his voice breaks, the way his cock twitches with every drop of your hips.

“fuck, baby, yes—ride me. ride me just like that. I’m not gonna last if you keep—shit, just like that—”

his head falls back against the headboard with a thud, and you swear he’s close already. he’s panting, groaning, fingers bruising into your skin as he helps you slam down harder, deeper.

your clit drags perfectly against the seam of his abdomen, sparking white heat through your core.

“can’t—can’t hold back,” he chokes out, voice thick with tears. “you’re gonna make me come. you want that? you want me to fill you up like a good lil slut?”

your breath catches. you nod. “say it,” he growls, thrusting up into you so hard your thighs quiver.

“I want it,” you gasp. “want you to come inside me, jisung—please, I need it—”

he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you down into a filthy kiss, all teeth and tongue and moaning into your mouth as he fucks up into you like he’s lost control.

your hips stutter, your thighs begin to shake, and his free hand slips between your bodies to rub fast, desperate circles over your clit.

“come first,” he pants against your lips. “come with me—please, baby, wanna feel you clench.”

you do — seconds later, crashing down around him with a broken cry, body tightening, shuddering hard as you come all over his cock. that’s what breaks him.

he thrusts up into you one last time with a wrecked gasp and spills deep inside, burying his face in your neck as he groans through it.

you stay like that — panting, tangled, skin hot and slick and trembling — with his cock still twitching inside you, his arms wrapped tight around your waist like he’ll never let go.

“..fuck,” he breathes after a long moment. “that was not just the tip.”

you laugh weakly, still catching your breath. “you lasted longer than I thought.”

his lips find your shoulder, kissing it softly. “yeah,” he whispers. “but next time, you’re on top immediately. no more cockwarming. I’m not strong enough for that shit.”

[doriku]

ㅤ━━━ # ABOUT RIKO ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

𝗆𝗂𝖽𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍ㅤ 0𝟣:𝟤𝟩ㅤ 愛情深い ㅤ 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗌

ㅤ𖹭 . — ꒰ㅤriri or koko, 8teen, she / her, bi, isfjㅤ꒱

ㅤ· psych major ( unfortunately ). brain soup enthusiast.

ㅤ— mostly for riize & p1harmony ! but I write for other groups too dw :bb

ㅤ— I’m nice I swear !! just weird at expressing it sometimes lol but I YAP A LOT ( I wanna yap 24/7 but no one lets me )

ㅤ— I love animes, kdramas, c-dramas and little slow movies that make you feel full inside !! esp my beloved op, bnha, bl, hq, & jjk

ㅤ— old songs ( bee gees, bread, air supply, the jets .. ), cloud r&b, dreamy soundscapes, and nct vocal unit hours

ㅤ— # ults :: p1h, riize, wayv, bnd, &team, aespa .ᐟ

ㅤ━━━𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗠𝗦

ㅤ— fiction ≠ reality. nothing here reflects real-life beliefs or actions. this is all fictional and meant for mature readers only.

ㅤ— curate your experience. if a piece feels too dark, you’re free to scroll. i value reader boundaries — please value mine too.

ㅤ— yes, there is fluff. while this blog leans dark, I do write romance or softness when the vibe hits — it just won’t be the default !!

ㅤ— 𝗗𝗡𝗜 if you’re racist, homophobic, transphobic, misogynistic, ableist, kpop antis – especially if you hate on riize ( ot7 ), p1harmony, or other groups I write for. go leave ! don’t bring negativity, judgment, or rude behavior here.

ㅤ. . 𝗥𝗘𝗤𝗦﹢𝗥𝗨𝗟𝗘𝗦

ㅤ— please be 18+ if you're requesting anything dark, explicit, or smut-related — seriously. don’t lie about your age !!

ㅤ— send it in anytime .ᐟ I love reading your ideas. while I can’t promise I’ll write every request, I’ll always consider them thoughtfully.

ㅤ— you can request anonymously or directly — both are welcome :3

ㅤ— I write for rii7e and piwon the most, but i’m open to other groups too :p

ㅤ— I take dark content \ dead dove themes — check tags & tws before reading or requesting.

ಇ. no reposts, no plagiarism.

ㅤplease do not copy, translate, or share my work without credit. if you love a story and want to share it, linking back is appreciated .ᐟ.ᐟ

you have reached the end .ᐟ

pls don’t be shy to talk to me omg i’m very sweet I swear ! send asks, reqs, or just come scream ab anything (ㅅ´ ˘ `)