summer lovin’ ; hwang hyunjin
PAIRING I hyunjin x afab!reader
CAST | hwang hyunjin, han jisung, mentions of the rest of skz
WC | 6.4k
GENRE I fluff, smut, (slight) crack, enemies to lovers, summer camp!au, camp counselor!au, reverse trope: too many beds/two beds
WARNINGS I explicit sexual content (making out, breast play, handjob, oral [m and f recieving], ball & clit sucking, teasing, grinding, p in v sex, dirty talk, clit stimulation, unprotected sex), explicit language, e2l so they're kinda mean to each other but they're nice in the end <3
SYNOPSIS | you find yourself as a camp counselor at the very summer camp you spent so many years at as a kid—except this time, you’re stuck with a very annoying (and, admittedly, very attractive) co-counselor and bunkmate.
A/N | requested by anonymous. thank you SO much for this request; i loved writing this reverse trope!! i also turned this into a summer camp au because a) it's summer and b) i was trying to think of places besides hotels where there are multiple beds in one room. anyways, hope you enjoy and thanks again!! if you enjoyed please reblog and consider leaving a few kind words <33 (event is now closed, but requests are open.)
REQUEST! | EVENT MASTERLIST
Yeah, okay. Maybe in hindsight, scrolling through your social media at a red light was a really stupid idea regardless. Maybe you shouldn’t have given him the silent treatment when he asked if you hated him. And you definitely shouldn’t have dented his fancy car with your lamp. Maybe it’s not so surprising that he doesn’t like you, based on everything that he knows about you so far. Maybe this was all your fault, and you should take the blame entirely.
Or maybe it’s not.
Restless, you turn over in bed, sighing—only to look straight into Hyunjin’s dark, sparkling orbs as he stares right back at you, his gaze already fixated on your form.
12 HOURS EARLIER.
Your thighs are practically melted to the cheap, fake leather that makes up your car seats. And there’s not much you can do about it either, since your car’s air conditioning is broken and the weather is already sizzling—even though it’s hardly past eight in the morning. It’s the sort of day that’ll surely be a scorcher, the sort of day that you like to spend inside.
Instead, you’re driving down to the summer camp that you used to go to when you were a kid. You had plenty of good memories here—you liked summer camp after all, but it wasn’t like you exactly wanted to spend your summer here as an adult. You can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy as you think about all of your classmates and friends that have the budget to take luxurious vacations to various beaches, islands, and countries—and what they might be doing right now. As your car slows to a stop at a red light, you pick up your phone and quickly open your social media, scrolling through a few recent posts to see what’s going on with everyone. You can’t help but be nosy, when you’re so deep in your own stinking envy.
A gasp escapes your lips, your hand coming up to rest on your chest as you narrow your eyes and furrow your brow at the next post on your feed. A girl that you used to go to high school with posted about being in the Bahamas, with her rich husband and their darling new baby—who’s smothered in sunscreen and wearing a swim shirt that’s about two sizes too small mind you, but they’re so perfect that it doesn’t even matter. Jealousy bubbles up in your stomach as you scroll through her post, looking at the background of the photos—beaches with white sand and cerulean waters, an obviously expensive hotel room, and a clear, private pool with a view of the entire resort. You gnaw at your nails as you click on her profile, groaning aloud as you see her other recent posts—clearly, she’s been doing a lot of traveling lately. And all with her husband’s fat paycheck, too. You momentarily wonder if it would be too much to send her a DM and ask if her husband has any other rich friends that can fund your ideal lazy lifestyle, but then decide against it. What are you, a golddigger? At this point… maybe?
A loud honk shakes you from your thoughts, making you drop your phone. It slips from your hand and slides between the car seats, wedging itself just out of reach. Cursing aloud, you forget about the phone for a moment and angle your rear view mirror, squinting as you try to make out the face of the person in the car behind you—the asshole that just honked their horn at you.
It’s a young man, probably around your age. He’s in some flashy, probably expensive black car that contrasts deeply with your hand-me-down, beat up old ‘97 Toyota. It’s so shiny and new that you’re not even sure what type of car it is. Annoyed, he runs his lithe fingers through his long dark hair and narrows his eyes at you, realizing that you’re finally looking back at him. Go, he mouths angrily at you, honking his horn again. He motions for you to turn around and look at the stoplight. It flashes green as soon as you turn around, making you scoff—what the hell was he on about? He had zero patience.
“Fuckin’ jerk,” you mutter under your breath, as you step on the gas. Your car lurches forward, groaning loudly from the strain as you zoom away from the flashy, annoying stranger. His car disappears from your view as you hit the speed limit, snorting to yourself.
At least you didn’t have to deal with him ever again.
You manage to dig your phone out of the car seat beside you at the next red light, and by then you’re already nearing the campsite. You recognize the tall trees that border the entrance of the camp, their trunks etched with decades of carvings and other graffiti from young, rebellious campers. A smile creeps onto your face as you recall the night that you made your own mark on those trees; you snuck out with a few older campers, feeling extra bold since all the other kids your age were too scared, and carved your initials at the very bottom of the trunk, beside a large knot in the wood. You remember that clearly—you chose that spot so that you’d easily be able to find it if you ever went back.
You never did, however. That was the last year you attended the summer camp before you started taking up guitar lessons instead, which took up your summers from that point on. Still, you had several core memories from this place; important ones that shaped your childhood.
The small parking lot for staff members comes into view as you turn onto the last road, entering the forest. The big trees at the entrance now surround your path, lining the bumpy, cracked asphalt road that you’re driving down. You park your car at the end of the lot, away from most of the other vehicles, and start unloading your things.
It’s almost eerily quiet. You know that none of the campers are here yet, since counselors and other staff members are slated to come a few days before the kids arrive to get things settled first. But it still feels exceptionally still, save for the gentle breeze that’s blowing through the trees and rustling the giant leaves several feet above your head. You look up to look at the shifting foliage for a moment, sunlight peeking through the crevices and winking at you cheerily. It’s definitely beautiful, despite the chill that goes down your spine at the thought of being out here alone.
You gather up an armful of your belongings, including a rather durable desk lamp that you probably didn’t need to bring but wanted to. Wobbling, the load much heavier than you’re used to carrying on a daily basis, you manage to slam your trunk shut, your car groaning from the effort. You can hear another car’s engine starting approach, and you wonder if it’s your co-counselor—you were informed that you’d be getting a bunkmate, with whom you’d be sharing schedules with and sharing campers with. The sound of the car gets louder, and soon you can hear the tires crunching on the asphalt, pebbles scattering across the road. You can’t see over the pile of blankets that are holding your lamp in place in your arms, but when you hear the car door open, you manage to shout out a greeting.
You walk forward a little, but with every step the blankets and lamp start slipping further out of your grasp. “Oh, shit,” you curse, as you feel the load slipping from your arms all at once—you try to grab the lamp, at least, but only succeed in accidentally hitting it with your hand, smashing it against the door of the car that’s parked beside yours.
The car that’s parked beside yours? Hardly registering the dent in the passenger door of the shiny black car, you narrow your eyes as you realize that this asshole parked right beside you when he had almost an entire lot of empty parking spaces to choose from. Scoffing, you pick up your lamp and fling your now dusty blankets over your shoulder. Just as you’re about to walk away, anger bubbling in your stomach, the owner of the car opens his door, stepping out. “Hey!” he shouts at you haughtily.
Your jaw drops. No wonder this stupid car looked so familiar—it’s the jerk from earlier. And he looks pissed; even more pissed off than before.
Gasping as he sees the dent on the door of his car, he whirls around to face you, a scowl etched onto his admittedly pretty features. “What the hell?” he shouts, gesturing wildly at his smashed in door.
“It was an accident,” you say defensively, hugging your lamp and blankets to your chest as you take a step back. You glare daggers at him as he frustratedly runs his fingers through his hair—just like he did when you first saw him, on the road—and curses loudly, turning away as he exhales sharply.
You roll your eyes at his overreaction. Sure, it was annoying to have your car dented by a stranger—that much you understand. But the way he’s breathing hard and clenching his fists at his sides made you cringe, unable to take him seriously. You start to walk away, your shoes crunching on the dirt path as you follow the trail towards your cabin.
“Where are you going? I’m not done talking to you!” the man shouts, running up to walk alongside you. He matches your pace, looking down at the mass of blankets in your arms. “What’re you doing, moving in?”
“I’m a camp counselor, idiot,” you snap, nudging him out of the way as the cabin comes into view. It’s a decent distance away from the other buildings, which you can see faintly between masses of trees and thick summer foliage. The cabin itself is made out of reddish logs, and it looks cozy and classic—the exact cabin you have in your memories from your childhood. You fumble with the key, which is shoved deep in the pocket of your jean shorts, as you attempt to hold all of the blankets in one hand. You only succeed in dropping everything again, making your cheeks heat up with embarrassment as the man behind you clears his throat loudly. You whirl around, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “And what are you doing here anyways? I pissed you off so bad that you had to follow me?” you say haughtily, as you shove the key into the lock roughly. The heavy wooden door creaks open, revealing a clean, sunny interior with two sets of bunk beds.
“I’m a counselor too, idiot,” he snaps, using your own insult against you.
A pang of fear pierces its way into your stomach—he’s a camp counselor too? Here? It couldn’t be that he’s the one you’re meant to room with, right? There were so many other cabins that counselors could be assigned to.
Whipping out your phone, you pull up your screenshot of your cabin address and your roommate’s information. You thrust the phone in his face, making him squint at the screen and exclaim in disgust at the proximity. “You’re not Hyunjin, are you?” you ask skeptically, looking him up and down.
The man’s face pales, and he clears his throat again—though he sounds much less confident and sure of himself than he did before. “Why do you ask that?” he asks, crossing his arms. “How do you know that?”
“Fuck,” you grumble, sinking to the floor amongst your blankets. You rub your aching temples, a headache from your stressful morning already presenting itself despite the early hour. “Fuck.”
Muttering something under his breath, Hyunjin rifles through his pockets, and you look up as you hear what sounds like crumpling paper. He pulls a wrinkled sheet out of the back pocket of his jeans, trying to smooth it out with his fingers. Narrowing his eyes as he reads over his roommate information, he holds it out to you. “So this is you, then?” he asks, in disbelief. He chuckles bitterly, smoothing his hand over his mouth. “You’ve gotta be kidding.”
You look up at Hyunjin to glare at him, offended by his disgust, but he’s already sauntering over to one of the bunk beds—the one with the bigger window on its side of the room. You spot a dry erase marker—left behind by another camp counselor, likely—and draw a thick black line on the floor, dividing the entire cabin in half. The marker squeaks loudly as you harshly draw the line on the wooden planks, and Hyunjin covers his ears, groaning in exasperation.
“Just stay on your side and we won’t have a problem,” you mutter, capping the marker and throwing it over your shoulder. It clatters to the ground noisily, but you don’t bother to pick it up, or even look back to see where it landed—on your side, or his.
—
At that point, you’d learned two things about Hyunjin, your new roommate and co-counselor; one, he was a douchebag, and two—well—his name was Hyunjin.
The third thing you learned about him was that he had a stupid amount of friends, and you had no clue why they all seemed to have separation anxiety or something. None of them were even working at the camp alongside the two of you either—they just dropped by unannounced (to you) and started helping Hyunjin move his stuff in. The lazy bastard didn’t even lift a single finger as his seven friends moved in his endless boxes of clothing, of paints and oil pastels. (You were now wondering if the cabin was going to permanently smell like an elementary school art classroom.)
“Jesus!” one of them—a small, jumpy guy with round cheeks—shouts, as he spots you sitting in the corner, scrolling through social media mindlessly as you try to stay out of their way. You’d moved there as soon as they filed into the room, hiding from their sight—and the multiple stacks of boxes that wobbled precariously as the seven men marched in and out of the room carelessly, brushing past it and scaring the shit out of you. “How long have you been here?” he asks, setting down a box full of what looked to be hair products. He wipes his sweaty brow, panting slightly.
“The entire time,” you say, shrugging. You try not to let the awkwardness get to you—you’d hoped that they’d all leave before they realized you were still here.
He laughs a little awkwardly, clearly feeling the uncomfortableness of confrontation. His cheeks flush pink as he realizes that they’d all just overlooked you the entire time. He tries to change the subject. “Are you his new roommate, then?” the round cheeked boy asks with a smile, extending his sticky hand to yours. You gingerly take it, not wanting to be rude, and shake it. “You’re not what I expected.”
“Meaning…?” you ask, ducking out of the way as another one of Hyunjin’s friends walks by with a duffel bag that’s spilling clothing items onto the floor with every step.
“Uh… just forget I said anything,” he says quickly, his cheeks flushing even darker as his gaze drops to the floor. Without another word, he presses his lips together and walks out the door, following a few of the others as they leave to presumably bring in even more of Hyunjin’s seemingly endless luggage. How much did a single person need to pack for summer camp? It looked like he packed up his entire apartment and was going to attempt to cram it into a singular, tiny cabin. Sighing exasperatedly, you kick one of Hyunjin’s bags over—it was on your side of the line—and sit down on the edge of your bed. So it seems that Hyunjin already told his massive friend group about what a bitch he thinks you are.
Luckily, his friends don’t come back. He does, about half an hour later, with a beer in hand and his cheeks slightly pink from his tipsiness. He doesn’t apologize for his luggage that’s taking up more than his half of the cabin, nor the lack of warning before your space was invaded by over half a dozen loud young men.
He slams the door behind him, exhaling loudly as he flops onto his own bed, slopping beer all over the front of his shirt. His eyes widen, and he groans loudly, annoyed. “Damn it,” he whines, pulling at the soaked material, “do you see this?” He looks up at you with puppy dog eyes, sending a surprising pang of attraction through your chest—you hadn’t realized just how appealing he was before, when he was pissing you off so bad you couldn’t think straight. His messy bangs fall into his dark, sparkling eyes as he tilts his head to the side slightly, studying you. His white t-shirt sticks to his chest, but he seems to have forgotten about it as his gaze meets yours.
“You don’t like me,” he says suddenly—more of a statement than a question, but he still seemed to be asking for some sort of confirmation or denial.
You hesitate, your words sticking in your throat as you try to respond. He waits patiently, expectantly for you to say something, but you don’t. Your lips stay sealed shut as you stare at him—and your gaze must seem so cold and unfeeling as your lips refuse to move a single centimeter—not even to quirk upwards into a slight smile to show him that you like him, just a tiny bit. Even if he pissed you off today. Even if you pissed him off today.
It’s more out of embarrassment than anything, as Hyunjin narrows his eyes at your silence. It’s sobering—he can feel his mind clearing immediately, the slight tipsiness from the beer gone in a flash. His heart pounds rapidly in his chest and his cheeks redden as he tries to retract the flirty tone, the hope laced in his voice as he secretly longed for you to deny it; that you do like him, that you don’t hate him and you want to get to know him better—anything. “The feeling’s mutual, then,” he spits, knocking his beer onto the ground as he storms out of the cabin, slamming the door before you have the chance to fully register what’s happening.
The tiny bit of “like” disappears at his emotional outburst, your expression souring as you’re left alone in the cluttered room. “You didn’t even give me a chance to answer, dickhead,” you mutter under your breath.
Never has an interaction with someone gone so wrong for you before. Never have there been so many misunderstandings, and so many mistakes.
It’s never been this hard to get someone to like you.
Meanwhile, Hyunjin storms off, meeting up with a few other counselors and camp staff members, that were just about to head out to get some firewood. Similar thoughts stew in his mind as he takes out his emotions on the logs of pre-cut wood, his ax swinging in the air and glinting in the late afternoon sunlight.
Yeah, he thought you were stupid for missing the green light because you were on your phone. Yeah, he was pissed that you dented his car. And yeah—he was really embarrassed that you didn’t answer him when he teasingly, flirtily asked if you really hated him—solidifying, in his mind, the idea that it’s true.
He swings the ax down again, grunting loudly as he chops another piece of wood in half. He pants, putting his weight onto the ax and leaning forward as he feels sweat dripping down the back of his neck. A comforting hand places itself on his back, making him look up—it’s another counselor, smiling kindly at him.
“I think we can head back now. We have more than enough for tonight,” they say, gesturing towards the large pile of wood—most of which came from Hyunjin’s emotional outburst. Slightly embarrassed, Hyunjin wipes the sweat from his brow and nods, pulling the ax out of the ground and following the group back to the campsite.
The rest of the counselors and staff that didn’t go to chop wood are now sitting outside, around the empty, unlit fire pit. Only a few thin logs and sticks are tossed in haphazardly, and one of the counselors that was chopping wood alongside Hyunjin sighs loudly and goes to fix it.
Hyunjin’s gaze drifts around the circle of people, searching for you. He sees you, sitting directly opposite him on the other side of the fire pit. You’re sitting with another counselor, with whom you seem to be making polite conversation with. It sends a pang of hurt through his body, a stab of regret. If he hadn’t been so hasty, maybe he could’ve been the one sitting next to you and getting to know you better.
He settles for chatting with a few people that were chopping wood with him and roasting a few marshmallows to act like he’s not paying attention to you—though he definitely is. He swallows hard as he watches the way your face lights up when you laugh, and how pretty you look by the firelight. Your eyes sparkle as you talk to the person sitting beside you, speaking excitedly and animatedly about something—and Hyunjin finds that he longs to know. There’s something intoxicating about the atmosphere—it makes him dizzy with hope, and hopeful for something more.
Marshmallow after marshmallow catches on fire as he watches you out of the corner of his eye, trying to pick up on any bit of conversation from across the loudly crackling fire. He pretends that he likes them burnt, loudly laughing it off when another counselor pipes up that he seems distracted.
“You’re funny,” he says dryly, before throwing his stick into the fire pit and walking back to the cabin that he shares with you.
—
He claimed that the smoke made his eyes hurt, and it was making him cough too. Even though you were watching him the whole time, and he didn’t cough once. Unless you count the two times he choked on burnt marshmallows, spitting the charred remains into the grass beside him as he insisted that he liked them that way.
The empty spot glares at you from across the fire, taunting you. Was it you that made him leave?
He was certainly mad earlier, when you failed to respond to his teasing. In all fairness, you intended to—it just didn’t happen. But that doesn’t ease your mind enough as you unhappily chew your own perfectly golden brown marshmallow, watching the remains of Hyunjin’s marshmallow stick crackling and burning in the fire.
“I’m gonna head in too. I still have a lot to unpack,” you lie to the person sitting beside you, who nods and hardly registers your departure before getting engrossed in another conversation with someone else.
Tossing your own stick into the fire as well, you make your way back to the cabin you share with Hyunjin. A small lantern hangs right outside the front door, lighting your way as you carefully walk up the creaky wooden stairs.
You find that—unsurprisingly—it’s much easier to unlock the door when your arms aren’t full of blankets and a stupidly heavy lamp. You enter the cabin, and Hyunjin looks up from where he’s sitting; propped up against the headboard of his bottom bunk bed. His expression is unchanging as he briefly looks at you and then looks back down at the notebook in his lap. As you peer over, trying to be unsuspicious, you see a light sketch of what looks like the forest bordering the campsite.
“That’s nice,” you say, clearing your throat as you lock the door behind you and sit down on your own bed, facing him. He looks up at you again, his eyes wide with surprise, before he turns the sketchbook towards you, a slight grin creeping onto his face.
“Thanks,” he says carefully, as he puts the sketchbook aside. He exhales sharply and clasps his hands together as he looks over at you. “And sorry about earlier. I was kinda drunk and I thought you were making fun of me, so I bailed.” He forces out a sheepish chuckle, his cheeks burning with embarrassment once again. “If it makes you feel any better, I ended up chopping firewood and almost cut off my own hand a few times.”
“Probably not the best idea to chop wood when you’re ‘kinda drunk,’” you laugh softly, as you hug your knees to your chest. Hyunjin chuckles softly along with you, feeling more at ease now. “I’m sorry too. For being an idiot on the road and for denting your car. I’ll pay for it. Promise.” You hold up your pinky—jokingly—as if you were going to make a literal pinky promise with him.
Much to your surprise, he smiles goofily and gets out of bed, stepping over the line on the middle of the floor. He leans over and links his pinky with yours, gently shaking it as he meets your gaze and smiles at you, his eyes squinting cutely.
He’s so close that you can feel his breath on your skin as he leans close, his hand large and warm against yours. You can see a knobby callous on his fourth finger, likely from the way he holds his pencil as he draws. Graphite and what looks to be watercolor paints stain his skin lightly, as if soap weren’t enough to rid the evidence of his artistry—as if it were graphite and watercolor that ran through his veins instead of blood, and it was just natural for it to be there regardless. His fingernails are clean, and kept incongruously short—another artistic precaution, you guess?
Before you can make any more observations, his touch leaves as soon as it comes, and he pulls away, stepping back over the line and sitting on the edge of his bed, suddenly much too far away from you. It’s odd—you only spent perhaps ten seconds in such close proximity to him, yet you think that if you don’t get it again you might die. Is life worth living if you can’t be that close to living artwork itself?
Despite the longing that makes your limbs twitch with holding back, you don’t say anything more to Hyunjin, and he doesn’t say anything more to you. He unpacks his things silently as you shuffle around the cabin, getting ready for bed. By the time the lights are out, the entire campsite is completely silent. The fire died out ages ago; the crackling and popping of the wood burning has long since ceased, and the smell of smoke is prominent in the air—though perhaps your wide-open windows might be contributing to that as well. But what else can you do when it’s disgustingly hot, and you don’t have any sort of air conditioning?
A cool, gentle night breeze blows through the air, disturbing the loose papers on Hyunjin’s nightstand and making a soft rustling sound.
Restless, you turn over in bed, sighing—only to look straight into Hyunjin’s dark, sparkling orbs as he stares right back at you, his gaze already fixated on your form.
You hold back a gasp, pressing your lips together tightly as your grip on your blanket grows clammy. After a few moments of painful silence and prolonged eye contact, Hyunjin sits up in bed, ducking under the top bunk as he moves to the edge of the mattress, his blanket slipping from his body.
You’ve lost count of the things you’ve learned about Hyunjin at this point, but you learn another thing here.
He sleeps naked.
You have to stifle another gasp as the blanket threatens to slip down further, exposing him completely, but he places a hand over it just as it exposes his happy trail. He chuckles a little awkwardly, his fingers tangling in the blanket as he pulls it up further. “Sorry,” he says, sucking in a harsh breath through his teeth.
You’re speechless again, but this time you force yourself to do something even if you can’t say anything. The last thing you want is another misunderstanding, another chance for this terribly beautiful man to slip through your fingers.
Hyunjin has to swallow back a groan as he watches you come over to him, your gaze washing over him in a way that makes him feel so desired, so wanted. He can’t help but let go of the blanket, letting it slip to the ground and expose his hardening cock, which twitches with anticipation as you sink to your knees between his legs. Hyunjin licks his lips, his cheeks flushing as he meets your gaze. Your hands smooth over his thighs before you push them apart a little more, and before he can say anything one of your hands has made its way to his cock, wrapping around the base of it and stroking gently, sending waves of pleasure through his body. He throws his head back and moans softly, his abs tensing as you rub your thumb over his weeping slit, giggling softly at the way his hips buck up harshly.
He looks down at you as you lean closer, running your hot tongue along his balls and making him whimper. His cock pulses in your hand as you gently suck one of his balls into your mouth, feeling the slight weight of it on your tongue as you massage it carefully. Hyunjin’s fingers come down to tangle in your hair as he gasps loudly, more precum leaking from his tip as you use your hand to stroke his length while you tongue his balls.
You remove your mouth with a soft moan, your tongue lolling out as you lick up his tight balls and up the underside of his cock. His precum is salty, filmy on your tongue as you lick it up before taking the head of his cock into your mouth, suckling hard and eliciting a choked groan as his hips stutter.
“I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” he gasps, gently pulling you off of his cock as he shudders, his orgasm fading as his cock twitches, craving more stimulation. “I wanna fuck you,” he insists, when you try to squirm out of his grasp to lick at his cock again. He only tightens his grip on you, staring into your eyes for a moment before gently laying you down on his bottom bunk bed, ducking back underneath to crawl on top of you.
His touch is eager but not rough as he helps you out of your clothes, throwing them onto the floor carelessly. His eyes settle on your bare skin with every piece of clothing that you remove until you’re completely nude, and he runs his hands up and down your sides appreciatively. “You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs, biting his plush lower lip as he stares at your body for a few moments more, before looking back up into your eyes. His gaze is lustful, full of desire—yet there’s something a little mournful too, a glimmer of hope.
It makes you want to kiss him, more than anything. Your lips crash onto his, but he was ready—it’s like he was wanting it too. He kisses you back eagerly, his tongue licking into your mouth as his soft lips engulf yours. His hands hesitantly rest on your hips, his touch light as a feather, before you place your hands over his and move them up to your breasts. He moans into the kiss, gently squeezing your tits in his hands and rubbing his calloused thumbs over your hardening nipples, making you groan. You can feel his cock rubbing against your inner thigh as he bucks his hips, hissing at the slight friction on his sensitive length.
He slides one of his hands down your curves, his fingers dancing lightly across your skin as he reaches between your legs. Shakily, you part your legs for him more as he glides his digits through your silky folds, groaning quietly as he feels your wetness. “Maybe all that arguing was like foreplay to you,” he says smugly, earning him a gentle smack to the arm from you as you protest.
“Then I can definitely say the same about you,” you retort, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. His length slides over your soaking pussy, making both of you groan again.
“If I admit it, can I fuck you already?” he asks, his tone light and teasing. He starts to grind his cock against your weeping slit, obscene slick noises emanating around the cabin. You can’t help but let out a strangled moan as the head of his cock slides over your clit, making your thighs twitch uncontrollably.
“Yes, please,” you gasp, not caring any more—all you wanted was him to fuck you.
A cocky smile spreads across his face, but before you can make fun of him for it he slides himself into you, eliciting shaky moans from the both of you.
It burns slightly; it’s been a while since you’ve hooked up with anyone, so naturally you’re once again not used to the feeling. The pain comes with pleasure, however, and you can’t ignore the deep thrum of pleasure that’s starting to pool in your stomach, your cunt pulsing around Hyunjin’s length and making him exhale shakily as he tries to hold still so that you can adjust to his size.
He reaches down, his thumb slicking over your clit gently as he pushes more of his length into your tight warmth, until he bottoms out completely with a pleasured sigh.
“So full…” you whimper, squirming underneath Hyunjin as he hovers over you, his warm breath tickling your skin as his lips ghost over your neck.
“That’s right, baby,” he coos, as he pulls out all the way, agonizingly slow—before thrusting back in again all at once, his hips smacking against yours. The sound of skin against skin echoes around the room as he sets a deep, steady pace, making you whimper and cry out with each languid, carefully angled thrust. “So full of my cock…”
He chuckles as you curse under your breath, a hint of a whine in your whispers that he picks up on easily. He starts to rub your clit faster, applying more pressure to the sensitive little nub with his thumb. Your wetness coats your clit, his fingers, his cock, as he fucks into you more desperately now, the mere sight of your tight cunt and the pleasured expression on your face starting to edge him closer to his inevitable orgasm.
His breathing is ragged now, his thrusts more sloppy and less rhythmic as he moans and buries his face in your neck once more, pressing kisses to your skin and nipping gently. “So close,” he gasps, his teeth sinking into the sensitive skin near your collarbone, “so fucking close…”
With a choked moan, he pulls out of you just as thick ropes of cum erupt from his tip, landing across your tits and stomach. He strokes himself through his orgasm, groaning loudly as more creamy semen drips from his slit, leaking over his fingers. The sight makes your pussy throb with need; you still haven’t finished, and you’re a little pissed off—you were getting quite close, before he finished.
Hyunjin notices your expression as his orgasm fades and he removes his hand from his length, panting softly.
“I didn’t forget about you,” he says tenderly, winking at you before pressing a gentle kiss to your thigh. He moves down, kissing and nibbling at your soft skin on both thighs before he reaches your cunt. With a smile, he reaches down to spread your lips with his fingers, chuckling as you whine with embarrassment, heat rising to your face. “I promised I’d make you feel good,” he says, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cunt. “And I’m gonna.”
He licks a fat, wide stripe up your pussy, groaning as he tastes your musky wetness on his tongue. He laps at your slit for a moment, making your thighs start to jump and twitch as you grasp at the sheets beneath you. The feeling of his tongue pressing ever so slightly against your hole, the teasing… it makes you leak even more against his lips, which he eagerly licks up again. His hands grab your twitching thighs, holding them apart as he devours your pussy.
Moaning loudly as he wraps his plush lips around your clit and sucks, you reach down to tangle your fingers in his messy dark locks, tugging his face closer to your soaking pussy as he sucks on and licks your swollen clit. He complies eagerly, burying his face closer to your cunt—his nose bumps against your clit as he messily laps at your slit, his tongue slipping into your tight hole.
It’s more than enough to push you over the edge, your orgasm washing over you—it’s so intense that your mind nearly goes blank, your limbs stiffen and seize as you whimper loudly, pulling Hyunjin ever-closer as your hand is still buried in his dark, tangled locks.
He licks at your pussy through your orgasm, and once the last few waves of pleasure fade from your body he kisses back up your stomach, up your chest and collarbone, until he reaches your lips. This kiss is different from the other ones; it’s much more tender and sweet, much less hungry and full of desire.
“Will you sleep here with me tonight?” he asks, pouting as he lays beside you, pulling the blanket over the two of you. He wraps his arms around you tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
“In your bunk bed instead of mine? No way. There’s way too many beds in here for two people, might as well take advantage of it,” you tease lightly, wiggling in his arms. He laughs softly, squeezing you tighter—he really wanted you to stay.
“Please?” he begs, tickling you and making you squeal as his lithe fingers prod at your sensitive sides. “Please stay with me?”
You never really wanted to leave anyways.
“I’ll stay with you as long as you want,” you say, pretending to finally give in, pressing a kiss to his cheek as you loosely drape your arms around his neck.
“Just until you piss me off again by doing something stupid,” he teases, turning your face ever so slightly so that he can kiss your lips, instead of you kissing his cheek again.
You melt into the kiss so quickly, so consumed by Hyunjin and his full lips that you hardly register what he said—until you realize. “Hey!” you scowl against his lips, as he bursts into peals of soft, melodic laughter.
© petrichor-han 2024, all rights reserved.
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