ぎゅ❤︎₊ ⊹

in your circle of friends, it was basically known that you and james were a lil duo. wherever one of you was, the other wasn’t far behind. the two of you were always together, and because of how close you were, people often called you partners in crime or something stupid like tom and jerry, especially with how often the two of you were caught together doing something mischievous. like that one time you both got caught climbing up the fence of the campus pool area, laughing like idiots even as security shouted at you from below, neither of you even had a real reason for doing it though. it just seemed fun at the time, and somehow, doing it with james always made things feel more exciting.

james had already been in his fair share of relationships, but you on the other hand, had never been in anything serious. unlike him, who had two year-long relationships during the time you’d known each other, you never really crossed that line with anyone.

it might have seemed contradictory, especially since james liked you. but he convinced himself his feelings would eventually fade if he dated other people. but over time james realized it probably never would change.

at the current moment, james had just become single again. the breakup was recent, however you hadn’t really seen or talked to him properly in a while. the sudden thought of him made you wonder how he was holding up, so on a quiet afternoon, you decided to call him and ask if he was busy. fast food at 11:00pm, him picking you up with his car like usual, nothing but just two friends catching up.

james takes a bite of his burger, chewing thoughtfully before answering about your question about how he’s holding up with the whole break up. "i've been alright. you know me, i don't really get too down about stuff like that."

"right. makes me think you're an actual red flag." you let out a soft chuckle, bringing a fry to your mouth.

james lets out a surprised laugh, nearly choking on his soda. "hey, that's harsh." he then grabs a fry from your container, stealing it playfully. "fyi she was the toxic one. i'm just good at moving on." his eyes linger on you a moment longer than necessary before he glances away.

"right right. my bad, i was just teasing you." you playfully land a harmless punch on his shoulder, the impact light and teasing. james rubs his shoulder like it actually hurt, giving you that overly dramatic pout.

"violence, baby, violence.” james leans back in his seat, arm resting on the center console between you two. "but seriously, i'm doing better now. especially since you decided to grace me with your presence at 11pm.. so, you just wanted to hang out with me at midnight to eat junk food? no ulterior motives?”

“what do you mean ulterior motives!” you laughed, your voice bubbling with disbelief as you shook your head at him, a wide grin spreading across your face.

james grins mischievously, his eyes sparkling with amusement under the dim lighting of the car.

"oh, i don't know. maybe you secretly wanted to make out in my backseat or something.”

“hey, don’t tease me like that,” you whined weakly, the protest coming out softer than you intended, more embarrassed than annoyed.

james grin falters slightly, something shifting in his expression as he studies your face in the darkness. "was i teasing though?" 

his voice drops lower, and he doesn't pull his hand back when he wipes a fry bit off the corner of your mouth, his thumb brushing your lip.

“you just got broken up and you’re already acting like a flirt!” you giggle, cheeks warming as you gently push him away from your face, trying to hide the sudden flutter in your chest. james catches your hand, his thumb absently tracing circles on your palm.

 "just because i got dumped doesn't mean i’ve lost my game." there's a pause, his eyes locked on yours. "besides, you're the one who asked to hang out at midnight in my car, eating fries and stealing my fries.”

“it’s not why i called… i just wanted to check up on you and ask some advice on something.” your voice comes out softer this time, the teasing tone fading as you fidget with a napkin between your fingers, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

james raises an eyebrow at you, his hand still holding yours. "advice? from me? at midnight? Oh this sounds serious." he leans back in his seat, his expression turning thoughtful as he studies you. "shoot. what's up?" as he squeezes your hand encouragingly.

“but don’t laugh at me!” you add quickly, pointing a warning finger at him, your voice half serious, half embarrassed.

with a smile, james brings your hand to his chest dramatically. "i solemnly swear, on our years of friendship, i will not laugh." his were eyes are soft, genuine in the way he often is when it's just the two of you. "what's wrong?" his thumb is still moving against your knuckles absentmindedly. 

“it’s just… it’s hard for me to open up about this,” you begin, fingers fidgeting with the edge of your cup, avoiding his gaze for a moment. “but you know my girlfriends, alysa, amber, and isa… they all have their boyfriends, and it kinda sucks that i’m the only single one in our friend group.”

james stays quiet, listening attentively as you confess something you've probably never admitted out loud before. “go on," he prompts gently, his thumb pausing in its path as he waits for you to continue. "so, you're feeling left out because they're all paired up and you're not?”

“yeah, and…” you pause, biting your lip for a moment, hesitating as if weighing your words. “they tell all these stories about their boyfriends, and i just… i can’t really relate to it.”

"and you feel like the odd one out," he says, finishing your sentence for you. "because you don't have a boyfriend to talk about." 

he searches your face, his voice gentle. "is that all?”

you nod, your lips pressing into a small, sad pout. "well, uhm.. they even lost their virginity to them.”

"you're feeling pressure because of that too? because they're talking about sex and you're not?”

“you’re awfully good at these talks,” you chuckled, shaking my head a little, “but yes… i do feel that way. but the thing is! i’ve been wanting to lose my virginity for a while now! for christ’s sake, i’m twenty!”

james laughs softly, shaking his head. "first of all, twenty is not old. second of all," he pauses, choosing his words carefully, "why haven't you then? if that's what you want." his thumb stops moving entirely now, his hand still holding yours firmly.

"i want to do it with someone i love! or atleast someone i trust!” you exclaimed.

"and you don't trust any of the guys you know? or... you just haven't found someone you like enough?”

“no, actually… you probably think i’m being stupid right now so bare with me okay?” you mumble, cheeks warming as you look down at your hands, twisting the napkin between your fingers.

"you're not being stupid. it's perfectly valid to want to wait until you're with someone you trust and care about. it's actually pretty mature of you, to be honest." 

“and also… maybe i do have an ulterior motive for tonight,” you admit quietly as you stare at the windshield for too long.

james goes quiet, his hand still holding yours but his thumb pausing mid-circle. "what's that?”

"i was hoping you'd take my first." you gaze at him hopefully, eyes soft and a little uncertain, silently searching for a reaction, for some hint that he won’t judge you for even asking.

his hand goes absolutely still. all you could see in his facial expression is a mixture of shock, surprise, and something else you can't quite place. jamesstares at you for what feels like an eternity before he finally speaks. "you're joking, right? you can't be serious.”

“i-i mean! you can say no if you don’t want to… we can just forget i ever asked!” you rush out, words tumbling over each other, cheeks burning as you glance nervously at him.

james pulls his hand away from yours suddenly, running both through his hair. he looks completely and utterly lost for words, which is rare for him. 

"i... you can't just... we've been friends for years, and you just dropped this on me at midnight in a parking lot." james laughs humorlessly. "of course i'll say no.”

"o-oh..”

the single word hangs in the air between you like a physical weight. james watches the light go out of your eyes, the hopeful expression crumbling into something small and embarrassed. there’s a million things that was rushing into his mind he couldn’t think fucking straight at all with what you just asked him of.

"Listen… i'm not saying no because i don't want to.” james turns back to face you fully, his eyes searching yours. he tries to find the right words, but they seem to elude him. Instead, he just blurts out the truth.

“then what?” you whisper, barely moving your lips, heart fluttering as your eyes stay fixed on his.

he continued to swallow hard, his eyes flicking down to your lips briefly before meeting yours again. "i'm saying no because i don't want to mess things up between us. i don't want sex to completely change our friendship." 

“i mean, i get it, but… it’s just something i wanna get over with,” you admit quietly.

"you're not getting it. you're not just handing over your virginity like it's nothing. you're giving a part of yourself away.” his voice comes out slightly harsher than intended, james turns away momentarily, collecting himself before turning back to you.

it was making him crazy conflicted.

“you’re the only guy i trust right now, james.” you say firmly, eyes locking with his meaningfully. 

“please…? for me?”

your words hit him right in the chest and it makes his resolve waver. he's never been able to say no to you about anything important, and he knows you knows he’s weak for you when it comes to favours. 

afterall, you were his favorite girl.

"you're playing dirty." james mutters.

you pout, leaning a little closer, “you never say no to me, jammie. i know you.”

he groans at the nickname, knowing you're right. he never can say no to you. especially not when you're looking at him like that, with those damn eyes he spent years secretly adoring at. 

"this is a terrible idea.” he mumbles, shaking his head.

the room is clean and modern, with it’s price and vicinity it wasn’t too bad for a hotel room with a reasonable price. james locks the door behind the both of you, suddenly very aware of how alone you are with him. he watches you toss your bag on the bed, already unzipping your hoodie making his heart pound uncomfortably in his chest as he realizes this is really happening.

"so. what now?"  james leans back against the door, arms crossed defensively over his chest. his eyes lingering until you completely unzip your hoodie and pull it off, revealing a simple tank top underneath. he trace the curve of your shoulders, the exposed skin of your arms. you're really doing this with him.

“come’re,” you pout, eyes soft and coaxing, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

james pushes off from the door and walks towards you slowly, and when he reaches the bed, you grab his hand and pull him down beside you. 

"stop pouting," james says gruffly, "it's not fair.”

“don’t tell me you don’t like every second of this…” you grin, leaning a little closer, eyes sparkling with mischief. “doesn’t it make you excited?”

"yeah, incredibly excited about taking my best friend's virginity." he says sarcastically, but his hands move to your waist anyway. "you're an idiot for making me do this.”

"can you stop talking to me like a homie while i’m about to get naked for you?” 

like a soldier, he shuts up immediately, eyes widening slightly at the directness of your words. you're already pulling your tank top off over your head, revealing a simple black bra underneath. his hands tighten on your waist as he watches, his mouth going dry.

his hands slide from your waist up to your shoulders, helping you slide the tank top off. when it's gone, he just looks at your bare chest. you were too beautiful, that’s what he thought.

"y-you're staring.." you immediately tried to cover yourself in embarrassment.

james slaps himself mentally, realizing he's staring and quickly looks away, clearing his throat. 

"no, i’m not." he lies badly, as his reaches out and gently pulls your hands away from your chest, his voice softer now. “stop covering up. i’ve seen you in a bikini before.”

"b-but this is different.”

"yeah." he agrees quietly, his eyes tracing over your exposed skin. "it is." 

his thumbs brushing just under the swell of your breasts. he's memorizing this – the way you're blushing, the way you're trying to hide, the way you're trusting him with this. 

"you're shaking." james notes quietly.

"i'm nervous, james..” you admit.

"then we'll go slow." he whispers carefully, as he leans forward, his forehead resting against yours. "kook at me. breathe. it's just me, okay? your stupid best friend. you said you trust me, right?”

“i do, i trust you james.”

"good." his hands slide up from your waist to cup your face, thumbs brushing away the nervous lines around your eyes. 

james leans in and presses the softest kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then finally your lips. every kiss was gentle and unhurried. 

"tell me if it hurts too much. we stop the second you say so.” he continues the slow, tender kisses, deepening them gradually. his hands roam gently over your body, learning the new landscape of exposed skin. and when his fingers find the clasp of your bra, he pauses, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. 

"okay?" he asks quietly, and when you nod, he unclasps it, helping you slide it off.

james tosses the bra aside and takes a moment to just look at you again, his expression filled with awe and something deeper. ever so slowly and reverently, james kisses down your neck, over your collarbone, lower still. when his lips finally make contact with your breast, you gasped – not just from the physical sensation but from the intimacy of it. this is james. your james. kissing you like you're his and he was yours. 

his hand slides between your bodies, making quick work of your jeans. james looks up at you as he pulls your jeans and panties down your legs, his hands gentle even as he's essentially undressing you completely. 

and when you're bare beneath him, he sits back on his heels, it was your first time seeing your best friend in a different light. that thought echoes in your head as you watch him stare at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. 

ah. james.

your goofy, sarcastic, loyal best friend for long damn years, is now kneeling at the foot of a hotel bed, looking at your naked body with something close to reverence. it's the most intimate moment of your life, and it's with him.

james leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh. his hands gently spread your legs wider, and you feel his breath against your most intimate place. james looks up at you one last time, as if asking for permission, before he lowers his head and presses a gentle kiss there.

his tongue gently parts your folds, his movements slow and tentative as he explores. He’s never done this before with someone he cares so deeply about. His arms wrap around your thighs, holding you open to him as he tries to be gentle, as you let out your very first delicate moan.

to him, the sound is so innocent, so utterly you that something inside his chest twists painfully. james knows every noise you make, the snort when you laugh too hard, the grumble when you're tired, the content sigh when you're comfortable. but this? this soft, breathless moan of pleasure? that first sweet, innocent moan just makes him groan against your skin. 

james redoubles his efforts, his tongue flicking inside you gently before circling your clit. He learns what you like, the hitch in your breath, the way your hips buck against his face. he's giving you your very first oral, and he wants it the best experience for you.

your back arches off the bed as pleasure courses through you, you clutch at the sheets, fingers twisting in the fabric as you try to ground yourself. as james's name falls from your lips in gasps and moans you didn't know you could make. your legs shake around his head, threatening to close.

"james!" 

he feels your thighs tighten around his head as you cry out his name like you're falling apart, and maybe you are. but he doesn't stop, keeping his pace steady even as he feels you trembling on the edge. he feels you clench around nothing, your thighs trembling around his head as you come undone from just his mouth. he drinks every moan, every desperate cry of his name, keeping you riding through the waves until you collapse back against the sheets, panting heavily.

james crawls up beside you, pressing a kiss to your sweaty temple. "hey, you're still here? how do you feel?"

"like I'm floating." you admit breathlessly.

his face melts into the stupid soft smile, the one you've only ever seen him make for you. "yeah?" james leans down and kisses your nose. "that's good, baby." 

baby.

you both freeze at the pet name,something he's never called you before.

"ah.. baby. i like that.”

a dark blush creeps up his neck at being caught, but he doesn't backpedal.

"yeah?" james murmurs, kissing you gently. "you like when I say baby?" 

his thumb brushes over your bottom lip as he looks down at you, completely naked and wrecked and smiling up at him like he was your everything. how could you not after that good pussy

“yes." you chuckled, a light, teasing laugh escaping you. “yet you’re the one blushing hard.”

"shut up." james huffs a laugh, leaning into your touch. but he's smiling, that stupid soft smile as he kisses your palm. "you made me nervous." he admits quietly, something he'd never say under normal circumstances. "i wanted it to be good for you.”

"i'm still gonna need a minute before... before the other part." he confesses, looking embarrassed. "you kinda got me worked up." he gestures vaguely to the obvious bulge in his pants.

“i know, and you did great,” you say softly, a small, proud smile tugging at your lips.

james, like a yearner he is to you, simply melts into the kiss, his eyes fluttering shut. 

"oh! i've never seen it hard before.”

he snorts at that, the ridiculousness of your honesty cutting through the tension. 

"you're really gonna say it like that?" but there's a flush creeping up his chest as he reaches for the waistband of his jeans and boxer briefs. "here. take a good look then, since you've waited so long.”

his face turns beet red as he pushes his pants down, revealing himself fully erect. it's bigger than you expected, thick and long, veins bulging along the sides. james looks almost embarrassed, covering himself with his hands.

"see anything you like?”

"why do you look so embarrassed!" you looked up at him, laughing softly at him.

james groans, running a hand over his face. "because you're just... looking at it! i know it’s your first time, but-” his voice cracks slightly, which makes him wince at himself. "can you please not laugh? i'm trying to be sexy here.”

"my bad, my bad." you stopped laughing, "are you asking me to suck it?”

james freezes, "what? no. yes. maybe. fuck, you're making me stupid. only if you want to. don't feel like you have to just because…”

“guide me, okay? i wanna make you feel good too,” you murmur, your voice soft but eager, the weight of sincerity in your words making him pause for just a moment.

"just... go at your own pace. if it feels weird or you wanna stop, just tap my thigh. aight?”

"okay.”

he watches as you scoot closer, his heart racing. you wrap a small, delicate hand around the base of his length and he almost feel like he’s gonna cum from that touch alone. when you lean down and press a soft kiss to the tip, he has to bite his lip to hold back a loud groan. his dick twitches at the sight of your small form kneeling between his legs. james watches you intently, his length jerking slightly as you run a tentative hand along his shaft. 

you wrap your hand around him experimentally, pumping gently like you've seen in porn. it's bigger than your hand, hot and hard and slightly damp at the tip. james's hips twitch involuntarily. he has such a pretty cock.

"like this?”

james nods, panting. "yeah, that's... that's good." his eyes roll back slightly as you stroke him, your small hand looking so delicate against his thick cock. he’s trying not to hip thrust too much, not wanting to be a dick. when you lean forward and lick a stripe up the underside, he actually yelps. "fuck!”

you explored his dick with your mouth like it's the most fascinating thing you've ever seen, you're taking your time, learning what makes him gasp and twitch. the head is sensitive, the ridge beneath it makes him curse when you suck it.

and you just love it when james curses.

his thighs tighten as you suck him deep, his length disappearing into your innocent little mouth. he’s never felt anything so perfect. you take him deeper, your lips stretched around him. his hands hover near your head, not wanting to push but desperate to guide. 

when he hits the back of your throat, you gag softly, the sound vibrating around his cock.

"fuuuck—take a breath, baby, that's enough." but you keep going.

he tangles his fingers in your hair loosely, just enough to let you know he's there.

"baby, i'm not gonna last—" his hips stuttered. "you gotta–" 

but then you look up at him with big innocent eyes, tongue swirling around his tip, and he's a goner.

his head falls back as he comes with a low moan, spilling down your throat. his grip on your hair tightens, holding you there as he pulses through his orgasm. when he finally releases you, you pull off with a gasp, a little string of spit connecting your mouth to his dick.

"holy shit.”

james was still panting heavily, his chest heaving as he looks down at you with wide eyes. and you're just kneeling down there, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand like you didn't just deepthroat him so good. 

"come here.” james demands hoarsely as he pulls you up by your arms and drags you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"you just.. i can't even think right now." he buries his face in your neck, inhaling deeply. "you're so fucking good at that.”

you chuckled, shifting a little as you adjusted your position closer to him. “how’s my first blow job?” you asked, trying to sound confident but clearly a little shy.

james laughed at you softly, the sound muffled against your skin.

"the best fucking blow job i’ve ever had," he admits. "you're a natural. a sweet, innocent-looking natural who just ruined me for all future blow jobs." james kisses your neck gently.

"too bad for you.”

"don't tease me, you little shit." his arms tightening around you as he says it so playfully.

his softening dick is still nestled between your thighs, sticky with his own cum. instead of being grossed out, you just shift comfortably, making him groan. 

"you're sitting on my dick like it's nothing." he complains good-naturedly.

"oh sorry.” you muttered, slowly trying to pull away.

but he caught your waist to keep you from moving.

"i didn't say get off. just... pointing out how cute you are sitting there like you own me." He kisses your jaw. "and besides, i think we're both far from done here. you still wanna... continue? if you're still comfortable.”

"oh im going all out, you know i'm not a quitter." you exclaimed persistently.

“oh? that's my girl." james murmurs, the pet name slipping out again. as james kisses you deeply, hand sliding down to cup your ass. "you really wanna do it now? before i get sensitive?" james was already half-hard again, proving his point.

“yes, james. i’m sure.” he rolls you off his lap, "then stay right there." he commands, rummaging through the drawer for a new condom. 

"you're really gonna rodeo cowboy me, huh?" james tears the wrapper open with his teeth, rolling the condom on quickly. “gonna ride me like a cowgirl?" 

"m’kay horsey.” you teased.

he laughs loudly, and annoyed look plastered on his face with your poorly timed joke, he lays back, his dick standing up against his stomach, already getting harder. 

"come on, you little fucking virgin.” he says so crudely as a comeback.

you fought a snort from your mouth as he watches you climb over him, your small form straddling his waist. he wraps his arms around your waist possessively as you sit there, his dick sandwiched between you. 

you gazed at him ever so curiously, your hair falling around your shoulders like a curtain.

james swallows hard, he's never seen anything sexier than you sitting there on his lap, about to take him inside your tight little pussy for the first time. 

james lifts you up slightly, positioning himself at your entrance. "baby... go slow okay?” he warns you.

his warning was out of your mind as you bit your lip while slowly lowering yourself onto him, your face immediately scrunching up slightly as he starts to stretch you open. james is sooo big, and long, and thick. so he knows it's gonna hurt like a bitch. 

"h-hurts like hell!”

james tried not to laugh at your adorable reaction. he knows it's not funny, cause you're literally impaled on his massive dick, your eyes watering with the pain. james pulls you down for a kiss, his hands squeezing your hips gently, maybe a little mental support would work on ya.

“there's my girl... you're doing sooo good.”

you whimpered as you finally sit down fully on him, his entire length buried inside you. james can feel your virginity breaking around him, and it makes him insane. he kisses you so deeply to distract you from the pain. "shh y/n... just breathe…”

you smacked his chest out of the blue, the sudden smack makes him laugh unexpectedly, breaking the serious moment. your little fist hitting his pec surprises him so much, he actually lifts his hips slightly, making you gasp.

"did you just hit me?" james asks with a grin, even though it didn't hurt.*

"you were supposed to warn me you're too big for me!”

"you're literally the one who said 'go all out.' and for the record, i did!" james argues as he deliciously thrusts up slowly, watching your face scrunch up adorably while you’re distracted. "and besides, that's the idea. you take what i give you, baby." 

he leans up to kiss your pouty lips, swallowing your sweet gasps and moans.

"already feeling better?" he mocks you when you were out of spiteful comebacks, his thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow circles while he keeps you pinned on him, waiting for you to adjust.

after a few more attempts on james trying to make it feel better for you, you slowly start rolling your hips, adjusting to his size. the painful stretch transforms into a full delicious pressure building in your belly.

"awww! it feels so good!" you cried in delight.

james saw you lose your inhibitions completely, riding him wildly with no shame. your tits bounce beautifully, your hair flies everywhere, and the sounds you make are music to his ears—whimpers, moans, gasps. he grips your thighs tightly. "fuck yes…”

your inner walls tighten rhythmically around his dick with each bounce, pulling him deeper inside you. the wet sounds of your coupling fill the room, with your wet pussy slipping up and down his massive length. james realizes you're not quiet during sex; you're actually quite loud and expressive.

it turns him on so much.

james flips you suddenly, surprising you with a yelp as you land on your back with him on top. "my turn," he growls, pushing your knees to your shoulders and slamming back into you without warning. 

"you're so fucking loud, baby. love it." his hips snap fast against yours now, the wet slapping sound filling the room. 

james pounds into you relentlessly, your legs wrapped around his waist as your high-pitched moans fill his ears. he's never been with someone who sounds so genuinely blissed out, you were purely overwhelmed with pleasure.

"that's it. all messy sounds and fucked out face, so fucking hot.” 

your legs are shaking, your toes curling as he rams into you at different angles. one particularly deep thrust makes you scream out his name, your back arching off the bed. james finds that spot deep inside you and just... stays there, grinding his pelvis against your clit.

"there," he pants. "right there?”

"mhm yeaaa!!” you mewled, a gentle, serene smile lighting up your face as a wave of pure contentment washed over you.

james chuckles at your adorableness being fucked stupid, his hand smacking your ass playfully. "this little slut just found her g-spot." he teases, but the look in his eyes is pure in satisfaction. 

with the newly found information, james starts fucking you deliberately now, hitting that spot over and over, watching your eyes roll back.

your moans just got more desperate. he leans down, capturing your mouth in a sloppy kiss while his hips never stop. "you close, baby?" he asks against your lips, his thrusts becoming messier, needier. "you gonna cum on my dick like bitch on heat?" 

your walls start fluttering around him, "i wanna cum with you james." you clung into him like a vice.

his eyes soften at the unexpected sentiment. the way you were clinging to him like he's your whole world, wanting to share the moment with him. james decided to slows his thrusts, making them deeper, more meaningful.

"yes, baby. yesss." he kisses you through it. "together. i’m close too." 

james buries his face in your neck, his body tensing as he starts to cum inside you. the feeling of his hot seed filling you up sends you over the edge too, and you clench around him tightly as you orgasm together. he keeps thrusting shallowly, milking both of your orgasms for all it’s worth.

he took it as a chance and kissed you deeply once again, his tongue swallowing your cries of pleasure as you both ride out your orgasms. when you're both finally spent, he collapses on top of you gently, his softening dick still inside you. as you wrap your legs around him, not wanting him to pull out.

"mhm so good..” you whined.

"you liked that?"

"yes." you smiled at him contentedly and james catches that look in your eyes, that grateful adoring gaze, and something warm settles in his chest. he props himself up on his elbows, his dick slipping out of you with a wet sound. he doesn't mind it, just pulls you closer, kissing your forehead lazily.

james smiles down at you, brushing your hair out of your face. you look so cute and well-fucked by him with your cheeks flushed and your lips swollen from kissing. he can't help but lean down and kiss you again, and again.

meanwhile you were just lying there, accepting all his love and adoration, even if the both of you were naked and sweating, your bodies sticky with dried cum and pussy juices. 

james pulls you into his chest, your small frame fitting perfectly against his larger one. his hand rubs lazy circles on your back. you can hear the faint sound of rain hitting the window now. 

"thank you for... letting me be your first.”

@kiswritting (his no.1 slave)

taglist : @ramenoil , @albavicent2010

Prince beomgyu lets out a long, theatrical sigh, wandering aimlessly and weaving through the bushes and trees of the mystic forest a few metres away from the castle, needing a break from his duties even for just a second of reprieve. The air smelled of damp earth and fragrant wildflowers. Butterflies flitted their pretty wings lazily around him as he stepped over a cluster of bluebell flowers on the mossy floor, where mushrooms were also scattered of all different shapes and colours.

As he ventured deeper into the forest, vines and ivy curled around the tall tree trunks, practically moving and alive, shaking loose pink petals off the branches and falling atop beomgyu’s long hair instead.

He stops when he comes across a small, crystalline pond tucked away, watching as purple dragonflies hover over the surface, lily pads and petals floating on top and, beneath the clear water, koi fishes whose colourful scales practically glowed, swimming and flicking their tails elegantly. Beomgyu stood there for a moment, captivated by the tranquility of the scene. For a small second, it was as if he could finally forget everything.

But then, he mutters to himself, scowling. “I swear to the gods, hate the court, hate those stupid advisors. I hate them all.” Prince beomgyu kicks a pebble rather aggressively into the pond in his frustration.

A tiny fairy emerges out of the water, angrily screaming, hovering and pointing, coming very close to his face high pitched in a language he cannot understand, then vanishes in a puff of glitter.

Beomgyu stares blankly, then merely shrugs.

Instead, he takes a look back at the ethereal scenery, the forest nothing short of enchanted. Closing his eyes, he tilts his head back, basking in the golden sunrays peeking through the canopy, inhaling deeply.

But his moment of peace is abruptly interrupted when he feels a cold, sharp blade pressing against his throat.

Beomgyu’s breath catches, eyes snapping open to meet a much less aesthetic view: A dagger, pressed very intimately underneath his jaw and already practically digging into his adam’s apple, “What the fu-”

“Don’t move.” Came the voice behind him.

Oh my god. He’s going to die. This is where prince beomgyu begins to panic, immediately stripping himself of his jewellery and any valuables, tossing them onto the grass, hastily. “Here! Take it! Take all of it! Please! Just not my face! I’m too handsome to die!”

You stare at him, baffled beneath the mask you were wearing, almost forgetting to keep the dagger steadily pointed at him.

“I’m not robbing you.” You say flatly. “I’m taking taking something far more valuable...”

There was a moment of silence as he looks at you cluelessly.

Then he gasps. “You’re taking my hair?!”

“I’m kidnapping you.” Tightening your grip on the dagger, you roll your eyes, grabbing the cloth from your bag, shoving it over his nose and mouth, drugging him.

“Mmfph!” The prince protests, flailing but then his eyes roll back and his limbs go limp, simply falling unconscious.

You warily eyed up the prince who now sat unconsciously tied to a chair in your cottage, head lolling to one side.

Surprisingly, it was much easier kidnapping the prince of the kingdom than you had imagined. He didn’t put up much of a fight, nor were there any guards around him, or any witnesses at all. Quite underwhelming really.

But at least everything was going even smoother than planned, you’d even written the ransom letter and had already sent it off to the king. Now you just had to wait and soon it would all be yours.

You study the prince’s face. You’d never seen him before, too preoccupied and shut away in your cottage in solitude. You didn’t care for them. Besides, what have the royals done for you other than tax you and steal all your money? Why were they even praised anyway? They just sat around doing nothing really. It was practically their fault for your situation right now.

Other than that, the prince was almost achingly pretty. He had quite handsome features, long, thick eyelashes that practically kissed his naturally flushed cheeks, perfectly round, plump lips, messy bangs falling effortlessly over his brows. His regal attire, though a little dirtied from the abduction, still extravagant, embroidered with gold thread and intricate patterns. He looked dainty and fragile all tied up. The prince reminded you of a doll.

A quiet groan breaks the silence and your staring. The prince stirs, lashes fluttering before his pretty eyes slowly blink open, dazed. He takes in his surroundings, strangely without much alarm, gaze sweeping across the decrepit interior of your cottage before landing blankly on your black cat perched menacingly on the window sill. They have a tense, silent stare off before his eyes make their way to you, looking you up and down since he hadn’t seen your face properly before, eyes raking over your figure with a brow raised. He looked almost…amused?

You supposed you didn’t cut the most terrifying figure. No scary scars, no missing eye or other limbs. Just plain clothes, a dagger at your hip, and an unimpressed expression.

The prince speaks up. “Are you part of a rebellion? Do you want to overthrow the monarchy?”

“No.”

He lazily grins, eyes trailing down to the ropes binding him. “Hmm. Then this is… a little provocative, don’t you think?”

“The hell.” You furrow your brows at a loss of words. “No! Ransom. This is for ransom! ”

“Ah.”

“You’re the prince. Your face is probably worth more than my entire life. When your daddy finds out his beloved son has been captured, I’m sure he’ll give me all the money I ask and you’ll go back to your fancy castle.” You lean back, sighing, just imagining how much gold you’ll accumulate soon, “Don’t worry, your kingdom will pay good money to have you back.”

The prince snorts. “Will they?”

You frown. “…Yes?”

He gives you a pitiful look, “I hate to say it but I think they’ll be more relieved than horrified I’m gone, to be completely honest.”

You cross your arms in confusement. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” He says, shifting in his restraints, “that my father finds me to be an insufferable disappointment. If you think he’s going to shell out a fortune to get me back, you’re sorely mistaken. No one in that castle can stand me, too much of a ‘troublemaker’ or something apparently.”

You stare at him. “You’re joking.”

“Wish I was.” The prince replies cheerfully. “You should have kidnapped my brother Prince Huening Kai instead. They would have had a heart attack. If you’d taken him, they’d probably have sent an entire army after you by now.”

“I wasn’t even aware there were two of you.”

“Five actually.” He adds, “Maybe you should have done some research before kidnapping royalty.”

You roll your eyes, “Well, which one are you then?”

“Prince Beomgyu!” He beams, grinning widely, looking proud and smug, his expression entirely too relaxed for someone tied to a chair in a stranger’s cottage.

Maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as you were beginning to think.

It had been days.

And absolutely nothing.

No guards barging down your door, no royal army marching through the forest, no frantic messenger bird clawing at your window with a desperate letter from the king, promising to give you all the money in the land for his poor son back.

Just pure silence.

You were starting to think either something happened to your messenger bird on the way or gods forbid, they really, truly didn’t want him back.

“I told you.” Beomgyu’s voice was maddeningly smug from where he was still bound to the chair. “Face it. They don’t want me back.”

You put a hand to your hip. “You’re lucky I haven’t gagged you.”

“Oh?” The prince raises a brow, smirking.

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “Gods. You’re disturbed.” You turn away to check the kettle heating by the fire. You were going to need tea. Lots of it.

You take a tea cup in your hand, pouring the earthy, floral brew that you had foraged from the forest, steam rising in swirls and you bring it to your mouth to drink. The warmth seeping through your fingers and into your chest, making you slightly more calmed about this whole maddening situation. Beomgyu’s eyes are on you the entire time. You supposed you could give him some too. “Here. Have some tea.”

“Can’t exactly help myself, can I?”

You huff, rolling your eyes, walking over to him, bringing a cup to his soft lips for him to sip and he looks up at you with a teasing glint in his eyes almost like he’s heavily enjoying that you’re doing this for him.

He swallows, furrowing his brows and smacking his lips together, savouring the taste. “Ooh Peasant tea. I like this. It’s very different to how all of my many chefs have made it for me.”

You cross your arms, nodding in approval, “It’s the best. Practically survive on it.”

He seems amused by your love for tea, nodding, sipping some more until he’s finished and you place the cup back on your counter.

You study him intently, intrigued. “So, why were you sulking around so much by the pond, kicking rocks at fairies before I—well, pointed a dagger at your throat.” There’s no easy way to describe the situation.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to! How was I supposed to know there was a fairy there?” Beomgyu protests, finding it humorous. “But, they’re forcing me to marry some princess from some other kingdom. I don’t even know her. I don’t want to get married at all.” He grimaces, staring at the ground with furrowed brows. “I hate being a prince. I have no freedom or say in anything. It’s so suffocating. I must act in a certain way, all these duties, now marriage. I don’t want any of it.” Beomgyu looks uncharacteristically and genuinely upset about it, the most sad you’ve seen him, and that’s you holding him captive.

You blink, then almost laugh. “Wow. Poor you. You really have the worst life. Must be so hard having all your meals cooked and servants at your beck and call, sleeping in a massive bed with silk sheets. In a castle. Truly.”

The prince furrows his brows at your mocking tone. “You don’t get it. It’s not all that great, you know.”

Your scoff, crossing your arms. “No, I get it. you’re incredibly privileged for those to be your only problems.”

He sulks at you, shrugging. “I guess so. I’d still rather have your life though, a peaceful, mundane, peasant life.”

You give him a flat look, nearly amused at his comical, out of touch words. “It’s far from peaceful. I’m incredibly in debt at the moment and owe money to lots of people, scary people I can’t even begin to repay. I’m doing this because I need the ransom money. You wouldn’t last a day in the real world.”

“I would!” He heavily pouts at you, taking offence. It’s almost endearing. “Anyway honestly, being held hostage has been much better than any day at the castle.”

You shake your head at the prince, sighing.

Beomgyu talked. A lot. About the castle gossip, about the ridiculous scandals of the court, all their carefully polished lies sold to the commoners, about all his other brothers, Prince Yeonjun’s scandalous new affair.

You were very entertained, the tea you make, since it seems to be one of the only things he likes, and these conversations weirdly happening regularly.

“I swear to every god in existence.” Beomgyu had said, with all the endearing dramatic flair of someone telling ghost stories with a candle, “Prince Yeonjun was caught HALF NAKED, sneaking out of the royal astrologer’s tower.”

“No way.” You gaped, sipping on your tea.

He grins, victorious, revelling in your shocked expression. “Swear on my crown. I don’t even know why I’m the one they call troublesome.”

Somewhere along the way, you’d begun to like having beomgyu around, in a way that both irritated and intrigued you.

He was for sure a bratty prince, complaining endlessly about almost everything, the chair, food, the ropes digging into his skin (you had tied them more gently), dramatically whining about a small splinter he got because of the chair (you actually took it out for him and gave him a bandage).

But…for all his whining, very strange comments, and being a royal pain in the ass, (and though you wouldn’t admit it aloud), the strange companionship he offered, despite the messed up predicament, was starting to feel…maybe comforting? when you’d had nothing in the past but your cat, living alone in your cottage.

He’d become company. Real company. It had been so long since you’d had that.

You had one thing in common, you both hated your realities and wanted to get away. And you could, if this damn king would send you the ransom money and come collect his son. You’re honestly astonished. Would they even come for him? What were you supposed to do with him if they never come?

“Ughh.” Beomgyu groans dramatically, wiggling his tied hands pathetically. “I’m suffering.” He says with such an exaggerated pout it was almost impressive.

You turn around to look at him, wondering what it was now.

“My bangs are all in my eyes. I can’t see anything and I can’t move them away.” He blinks at you. Then, very deliberately, batts his lashes, those ridiculously long, doll-like lashes. “You kidnapped me.” Beomgyu says pointedly, deadpan. “The least you could do is brush my hair out of my eyes. Basic courtesy.”

You raise a brow. The audacity. But with a long sigh and contemplation, you wandered over, standing before him. He blinks up at you, the brown strands of his hair over his eye, genuinely a little pathetic and silly looking.

You brush your fingers through his messy strands gently, absentmindedly. His hair was so soft. His pretty brown eyes locked with yours, eyes following your face, unblinking, unusually quiet for once. Close.

And gods, was he pretty.

Your touch lingered longer than probably necessary, tucking the last of his bangs behind his ear, fingertips brushing against his warm skin. You swear the tips of his ears were pinker than usual too.

You finally step back, heart doing something inconvenient in your chest, you could only scowl at him.

Your kidnapping had been, by all accounts, a complete and utter failure. It had not been the most fearsome hostage situation either, your intimidation tactics quite lacklustre, no violence, no torturing, and no damn money.

Even your cat had gotten used to him by now, seemingly liking him, curling up often in his lap, purring contently and napping. And worst of all, You were getting used to him too.

The fire crackles softly in the hearth, casting a warm orange glow in your small cottage. The evening had settled in, quiet and still, except for the rhythmic, repetitive sound of your knife chopping into carrots on the cutting board for a stew.

“Well,” Beomgyu drawls from his usual spot, arms bound behind his back and chair, voice cutting through through the ambience. “you know. You’re not exactly what I expected.”

“Why, disappointed?” Your eyes don’t leave the cutting board, still chopping and unfazed.

His lips quirk into a lazy grin. “Hardly.”

That makes you pause mid-slicing the vegetables, turning around with an incredulous look, “Are you flirting with me?”

“Perhaps. You’re easy on the eyes.” The fire flickers and reflects in beomgyu’s deep brown as you as you stare at him and you catch mischievous glint in them too.

“I’ve quite literally kidnapped you.” You fold your arms.

He shrugs in his restraints, “I know you won’t hurt me. You haven’t tortured me once. Not even a little.”

A slow smile makes its way across your lips, brow raising at what you hear, amused. Instead, you reach for your dagger, making your way towards beomgyu and his gaze follows your every movement.

“Oh?” You slowly flick some of the locks of his soft hair out his face with the sharp tip of the dagger, his breath catching in his throat at that, eyes slightly widening. Then you trace the blade leisurely along his cheek, the prince shivering at the feeling of the steel on his skin. “How are you so sure?” Beomgyu swallows, breath hitching almost looking scared for a second, but then he smirks, thrilled, eyes never leaving yours and yours never leaving his. The two of you locked in a stare now, the eye contact, quite intense.

“You like me.” Beomgyu simply grins impossibly wider.

“Like you?” You echo, sceptically, scoffing at his words. With deliberate slowness, you trace the dagger across his jawline, advancing down his pretty neck, pressing the sharp edge down a little hard—not enough to cut but enough for him to feel it and dip into his soft flesh, his skin prickling up and chest rising and falling, all tensed in anticipation. “Are you sure you don’t like me?”

You point at the now growing tent in his pants that was too hard to ignore. A violent red flush creeps over his cheeks, embarrassed as you cast a deliberate, judging glance downwards with an arched brow. How incredibly absurd. You’re pointing a knife at him and he’s getting turned on.

He purses his lips together for a second, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows but then he runs his mouth again, voice a little breathless, but he grins regardless, “What are you going to do about it?”

Where on earth does he gain this confidence from?

“Leave you. That’s disgusting.” You say, pulling your dagger away in theatrical repulse and moving away from him.

Beomgyu instantly splutters in panic, thrashing helplessly against his bonds, pathetically pleading, eyes wide. “B-but! Wait! Please. It hurts!”

You smile, satisfied, stepping closer to him once again. That’s more like it. “Why should I?”

He just looks up at you so severely desperate, so pitiful. Your eyes flicker down to his slightly wobbly lips and then back up at his panicked eyes. And as if drawn by some invisible force, definitely not of your own doing, you grab and tug at one of the ropes, impulsively leaning down to kiss him, he kisses back instantly, fervently, surging forward and leaning into the kiss as much as his bindings would allow, lips crashing together, all heated and messy, needy and sloppy, beomgyu whines softly into your mouth and gods help you, it does things to you. You bite down on his plump lower lip until he gasps, shoving your tongue down his, dominating the kiss and he just lets you.

You then pull away, he still tries to chase your mouth back even when you pull away but you move to his throat, trailing your lips down his neck, ghosting over, he tilts his head back obediently, warm breath sending him shivering before you bite and suck harshly.

“Please.” He pants, delirious, so worked up already, eyes squeezed shut. “Touch me. Please.”

How could you refute? He squirms in his chair when you begin to palm him through his pants, already embarrassingly hard, gasping so loudly, jaw going slack just from that. Beomgyu bucks helplessly into your touch as you continue to teasingly grind your palm, kissing and sucking on his neck again, he’s all just needy whines and whimpers, pleas falling from his lips for a little more.

You love his reactions and the pathetic noises he makes, so worked up from a little friction on his clothed dick. You want more of it, you want to break the pretty little prince. You sit in his lap, unzipping his pants before him, cock just as pretty as every other part of him, leaky, wet and red, you brush your thumb over his cute tip, spreading the precum teasingly slow, watching his face.

“Oh…” Beomgyu looks down himself, brows knitting together, shuddering and groaning softly.

The sound when you wrap your hand around his cock and glide your hand up and down is impossibly loud over the crackling of the fire in your cottage, sticky and squelchy and the prince already seems far gone from the slow pumping, unraveling at the first stroke, pupils blown wide, glossy lips parted. How dirty.

“Did you seriously get hard from your captor threatening you with a dagger? You’re fucking sick, beomgyu.” You ridicule him in a faux saccharine tone, hand pumping his dick faster, twisting around the tip that he’s panting now, his head dropping forward, resting and falling on your shoulder, you bring your other hand to stroke at his hair. You can tell he’s close, moaning out prettily.

He still manages to bite back though like the brat he is so clearly he’s not that much of a mess you like you want him to be, he lifts his head back to look at you. “You’re the one who kidnapped me. You’re sick.”

“Fine then. If I’m so sick, I’ll stop.” You still your movements on his dick, pulling your hand away. He wails, loudly crying at that, trying so hard to move, pulling uselessly at the ropes to chase your hand but he can’t.

“No! Please. I’ll die.” There he goes being so dramatic again, tears brimming in his panicked doe brown eyes, hyperventilating. The fact that this is the most distressed he’s gotten being kidnapped is honestly concerning. “Please,” He rasps, wrecked, dazed “fuck me.”

You cruelly laugh at the sight, tutting. “Such crude words coming from a prince...”

He just whines frustratedly in response, exasperatedly frowning like he’s having a tantrum.

“Aw. What a poor little prince.” You mockingly coo at him, stroking his cheek but he leans into it anyway, yearning for more, wanting any sort of touch from you now, you drag your teeth against the lobe of his cute pink ear licking, goading him. He shivers at that, sucking in his breath.

“You’re torturing me!” Beomgyu comically pouts.

“I thought you said I wasn’t torturing you at all.”

“Well now you are. You’re killing me. I’m going to die.”

“This is what you call torturing?” You chuckle incredulously.

“Yeah. Fuck me now.” Beomgyu looks like he might combust if you so much as deny him another second, his cock twitching in the open air, painfully red and glistening. You haven’t touched him in what? Seconds? But it feels like an eternity to him. “Just…please—”

You don’t even wait to hear more of his insufferable begging, you lift your skirt and hips up, pushing your panties to the side and sinking down on his dick unceremoniously, it nearly knocks the wind out of him, gasping sharply, mouth hanging open.

“Holy shit.” He groans. “You’re, oh my god—”

Beomgyu throws his head back, practically going cross eyed at the feeling of your warm tight pussy around him. You start to bounce on his cock continuously, riding him and holding onto his shoulders roughly to stabilise yourself., beomgyu moaning shamelessly loud, high pitched and strangled like a girl, dumb and dazed, drooling onto you at the feeling of your pussy.

You bring your hand to his cheek, kissing beomgyu hard, hands tangling in his long hair, tugging, fucking him mercilessly as he sinfully and filthily moans into your mouth. Then he pulls away.

“Choke me.” Beomgyu licks his swollen lips, looking at you sexily, eyes half lidded.

“You’re perverted.” But your hands wrap around the column of his delicate, pretty neck, now marked and mauled. Beomgyu exhales a shaky breath like it was all he wanted.

“Ah…harder.” Beomgyu gulps, pretty Adam’s apple moving as he does so.

You squeeze harder around his neck and he hisses, furrowing his brows, face scrunching up gorgeously, a pretty vein in his neck popping out. His eyes roll to the back of his head, gasping for air, letting out breathy noises, face and neck flushed, you press down just a little more, still bouncing on his cock, deliberately clenching around him. You feel him twitching inside you and then he cums, whole body convulsing, spilling his load inside your pussy.

But you don’t stop, bringing your hand to his shoulders roughly again, digging your nails into him, fucking him through it. He whimpers painfully, straining against the ropes, but he can only helplessly take whatever you give him.

“stop!—ah! too much, too sensitive…” Beomgyu sniffles and sobs, gasping at the overstimulation, babbling incoherently.

“No it’s not. You were begging to be fucked, now it’s too much for you?” You tighten your grip on his shoulders.

He’s about to whine and complain but you take two of your fingers, stuffing them in his mouth to shut him up, he sorrowfully sucks on them like a slut instead, moaning around them whorishly, gazing up at you with teary watery eyes and his pretty wet swollen lips. Gods. Just looking at the state of him, pretty, writhing, helplessly tied up, it’s making you go insane. He still looks like a doll, face red and rosy, dolly lashes thick fluttering and clumped together with tears, soft hair now all messy, bangs damp and all sweaty. A wrecked, cracked porcelain doll, your doll, yours to ruin and play with. He looks divine. What a whore of a prince.

You bounce on his dick mercilessly, riding him faster and faster and faster to get yourself to reach your high too, bringing your finger to your clit, rubbing. One final look at beomgyu’s face, pitiful doe eyes and sucking on your fingers and that does it, cumming around his twitching dick. With a muffled scream and sob, beomgyu’s cumming again, looking like he’s going to pass out, spurting and shooting more of his warm and sticky white ropes of cum into you, cumming so much, it’s all creamy, completely milking him dry, his whole body shaking beneath you and his chest is heaving like a drowning man, gasping for air.

Only then do you reach for your dagger again, slicing the rope, slithering to the ground. Beomgyu falls forwards instantly, collapsing into your arms, gripping and clinging to you, trembling like a leaf, hands roaming all over you and hugging you tight, the first time he could actually touch you. And beomgyu kisses you so desperately over and over, like he’s starved, hands shaking, clutching your clothes, you keeping his cheeks feeling equally starved.

But your kissing is interrupted by a messenger bird throwing a scroll with an unmistakable royal crest through your window. You get up to read it:

An armed procession will arrive by nightfall to collect our Prince Beomgyu in exchange for the agreed ransom.

— His Majesty, the King.

“Are you…going to return me back then?” Beomgyu says quietly, like he already knows the answer and is fearing it, his shoulders are slumped, already looking miserable and like a devastated puppy, thinking about having to return back to living in the castle.

You think for a moment. You fold the scroll neatly, setting in on the table. “No.”

Beomgyu blinks, “No?”

You smirk. “I’m taking something far more valuable.”

Beomgyu’s eyes widen, and then stars. His eyes practically lighting up, sparkling, you could practically see his tail wagging if he had one.

You both start giggling like idiots.

By the time the army reaches your cottage that evening, it is already abandoned.

And somewhere, gods only knows where, you’re running hand in hand through the forest, longe gone, cat tucked under one arm, and just enough tea packed to last the journey.

Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷🌷! It’s incredibly discouraging and disappointing when fics have such little reblogs. At least send an anon in the inbox if you don’t want to rb, don’t just like. Feedback is always appreciated it makes writers want to actually write more :)

"how’d you even get in here?" you mutter, trying to sound annoyed instead of painfully aware of how close he is.

"your mom let me in, duh," he says, grinning up at you like he’s won something. "she loves me."

"she has terrible taste," you shoot back, but there’s no real bite to it. beomgyu knows it, too, because his grin only widens.

without asking, he snatches your phone right out of your hands, thumb already swiping through your notifications like he has every right to. "who’s texting you?" he asks, squinting at the screen. "is this junho? since when do you talk to junho?"

you lunge for the phone, but he holds it just out of reach, laughing when you half-climb over him in your attempt to grab it. "give it back, you nosy loser—"

"make me," he taunts, wiggling the phone above his head.

you huff, resorting to digging your fingers into his side, right where you know he’s ticklish. beomgyu yelps, jerking away, but in the chaos, your fingers brush against the bare strip of skin where his shirt has ridden up.

the second you make contact, his whole body tenses like he’s been electrocuted. his breath hitches, just barely, and his cheeks go pink. not just a little flushed—full on, unmistakably red.

you freeze.

beomgyu, who’s always the one invading your space, who slings an arm over your shoulders without thinking, who leans into every casual touch like it’s nothing, just short-circuited because you touched him.

and oh.

oh, this is interesting.

a slow, dangerous grin spreads across your face. beomgyu’s eyes widen like he already knows what’s coming. "what?" he asks, voice slightly higher than usual. "why are you looking at me like that?"

"like what?" you ask innocently, letting your fingers trail lightly over his waist again, just to see what happens.

he jolts, nearly falling off the bed. "hey!"

you can’t help it. you laugh, delighted by this newfound power. "what’s wrong, gyu? you’re always all over me. can’t handle it when it’s the other way around?"

"shut up," he mumbles, but he’s not meeting your eyes anymore, his ears still burning.

and just like that, a game is born.

because if there’s one thing you love more than anything, it’s messing with choi beomgyu. and if there’s one thing he apparently can’t handle?

it’s you.

it starts as a game—just harmless teasing, really. you don’t even mean for it to become a thing. but the way beomgyu reacts every single time your fingers accidentally brush his skin, or when you lean just a little too close under the pretence of looking at his phone screen—it’s addictive. like poking a sleeping bear and watching it startle awake, all clumsy limbs and flustered noises.

at first, you tell yourself you’re just doing it to annoy him. payback for all the times he’s invaded your space without permission, flopped onto your bed like he owns it, stolen bites of your food with that infuriating smirk. but then you notice the way his breath hitches when your knee bumps his under the table. the way his fingers twitch like he wants to reach back whenever you "fix" his collar, your touch lingering a second too long. the way his voice goes just a little higher when you whisper something close to his ear, like you’re sharing a secret.

it’s fascinating.

beomgyu, who’s always been the clingy one, the one who drapes himself over you without a second thought, suddenly can’t handle it when you initiate contact. and the more you test it, the more obvious it becomes that he’s not just flustered. he’s affected.

so you escalate.

you start "accidentally" letting your hand rest on his thigh when you’re sitting side by side, pretending not to notice the way his entire body goes rigid. you lean against him more than necessary when you’re tired, tucking your face into the crook of his neck just to feel the way his pulse jumps under your lips. you play with his hair while he’s trying to focus on something, twirling the soft strands between your fingers until he groans and swats at your hand, his cheeks pink.

and the best part? he never stops you.

he complains, sure. he whines and calls you annoying and shoves at your shoulders halfheartedly. but he never actually pulls away. if anything he leans into it, like he’s trying to prove he can take it, like he’s determined not to let you win.

which is how you end up here: beomgyu sprawled across your lap like an overgrown cat, his head heavy on your thighs as he scrolls through his phone. you’re both supposed to be studying, but neither of you has opened a textbook in at least an hour. instead, you’re absentmindedly running your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp the way you know makes him melt.

he’s trying so hard to act unaffected. but you can see the way his fingers have slowed on his screen, the way his breathing has evened out like he’s fighting not to sigh.

"you’re like a dog," you murmur, grinning when he cracks one eye open to glare at you.

"shut up," he mumbles, but there’s no real heat behind it.

you hum, dragging your nails gently down the back of his neck, and there—the full body shiver he tries (and fails) to suppress. you bite your lip to keep from laughing. "you good?"

"you’re the worst," he mutters, but he doesn’t move. doesn’t even try.

you’re about to tease him more, maybe poke his side, just to see him squirm, when suddenly, his hand shoots up and catches your wrust. your breath stutters.

beomgyu’s grip isn’t tight. it’s not rough or demanding. but the way his fingers circle your wrist, warm and firm, sends a jolt down your spine. your pulse jumps under his thumb.

for a second, neither of you moves.

then beomgyu tilts his head back to look at you, and—

oh.

his eyes are dark. not playful, not exasperated. just intense, in a way that makes your stomach flip.

"you’ve been messing with me all week," he says, voice low.

your throat feels dry. "i don’t know what you’re talking about."

he raises an eyebrow. "really."

"really," you say, but it comes out breathier than you mean it to.

beomgyu holds your gaze for a long, long second. then, slowly, he tugs your hand down—not away, but closer, until your palm is pressed flat against his chest. you can feel his heartbeat, rapid and unsteady, under your fingers.

"then keep going," he challenges, voice barely above a whisper. "since it’s nothing."

your brain short circuits.

because this—this isn’t how it’s supposed to go. he’s supposed to blush and sputter and shove you away like always. not dare you. not look at you like that.

your fingers twitch against his shirt.

beomgyu’s lips curl into a smirk. "what’s wrong?" he taunts, echoing your words from earlier. "can’t handle it when i push back?"

oh, it’s on.

you lean down before you can second guess yourself, your nose brushing his as you stop just short of his lips. his breath catches. "who said i was stopping?" you whisper.

beomgyu’s grip on your wrist tightens.

and then—

your mom calls your name from downstairs, and the moment shatters.

beomgyu jerks back like he’s been burned, nearly rolling off the bed in his haste. you yelp, grabbing his arm to steady him, but he’s already scrambling upright, running a hand through his hair like he can’t believe what almost happened.

"i—" he starts, then stops, his ears burning red. "we should—your mom’s calling."

you stare at him. he stares back.

then, slowly, a grin spreads across your face.

beomgyu groans, covering his eyes with one hand. "don’t."

"don’t what?" you ask, all innocence.

"you’re insufferable," he mutters, but he’s peeking at you through his fingers, and his lips are twitching like he’s fighting a smile.

you kick his shin lightly. "you love it."

he doesn’t deny it.

the thing about beomgyu is that he's always been tactile—always reaching for you, always in your space, always treating your personal boundaries like mild suggestions rather than actual rules. lately it’s gotten worse, with every touch feeling like something more. like there's electricity humming just beneath his skin, sparking where your fingers brush against him. and you can't stop poking at it, can't stop testing the limits of this new, fragile thing between you.

it's been days since the almost-moment on your bed, days of careful avoidance and pointed teasing and lingering touches that neither of you acknowledge. and now here you are, curled up in your room watching some b-list horror movie because beomgyu had whined until you gave in, his eyes doing that stupid, pleading thing you've never been able to say no to.

"this is so dumb," you mutter as the protagonist on screen wanders into yet another obviously haunted room. "why would anyone—"

"shhh," beomgyu interrupts, nudging your shoulder with his. "you're ruining the atmosphere."

"the atmosphere of what? bad cgi and worse acting?"

he gasps, pressing a hand to his chest like you've wounded him. "you take that back. this is cinematic gold."

you roll your eyes but don't protest further, settling back against your pillows. beomgyu shifts beside you, his arm brushing yours, warm and solid. you try to focus on the movie, you really do, but it's hard when he's right there, smelling like laundry detergent and that stupidly expensive cologne he pretends he doesn't carefully pick out. when he's close enough that you can see the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks in the dim light of your laptop screen.

then—

a sudden, earsplitting shriek comes from the movie, a grotesque face filling the frame, and you're lurching sideways before you can think, fingers digging into beomgyu's arm as you let out a startled yelp.

and beomgyu—

beomgyu squeaks.

it's high pitched and undignified and absolutely ridiculous coming from someone who spends half his time trying to act cool, and for a second, you're too stunned to even process it. then the sound registers, and you're turning to stare at him, mouth already opening to tease—

but the words die in your throat.

because beomgyu is frozen, his breath caught, his eyes wide and dark and fixed on you. your fingers are still wrapped around his arm, your nails pressing crescent moons into his skin, and you can feel the way his pulse jumps under your touch. the air between you is thick, heavy, the silence stretching taut like a wire about to snap.

your own breath stutters.

beomgyu's gaze drops to your mouth, just for a second, so quick you might have imagined it—but you didn't. you know you didn't, because your heart is suddenly pounding loud enough that you're sure he can hear it, your skin buzzing where you're touching him.

then—

the moment shatters.

beomgyu clears his throat, jerking his arm away like he's been burned, his cheeks flushing pink. "you—you scared me," he mutters, avoiding your eyes.

you blink. then, slowly, a grin spreads across your face. "i scared you?" you echo, leaning closer. "beomgyu. you squeaked."

"i did not—"

"you did," you crow, poking his side. "like a—like a mouse or something—"

beomgyu groans, covering his face with his hands. "oh my god, shut up—"

"a tiny, terrified little mouse—"

"i will end you," he threatens, but there's no real heat behind it, not when he's peeking at you through his fingers, his lips twitching like he's fighting a smile.

you laugh, bright and loud, and something in beomgyu's expression softens, his shoulders relaxing as he drops his hands. "you're the worst," he grumbles, but he's leaning into you again, his arm pressing against yours.

"you love me," you sing-song, nudging him with your knee.

beomgyu doesn't answer. just rolls his eyes and turns back to the movie, but you don't miss the way his fingers flex against his thigh, the way his breath hitches when you shift closer.

the movie plays on, the tension between you easing back into something familiar, something comfortable. but beneath it all, beneath the teasing and the bickering and the easy touches, there's something new. something fragile and unspoken and achingly sweet.

and you can't wait to poke at it some more.

the moment your selfie goes up, you know it's trouble. not because there's anything particularly scandalous about it—just you in your favourite going-out top, hair styled a little more carefully than usual, lips shiny with that gloss beomgyu always says smells like candy. but something about the angle, the way the light catches your collarbones, the hint of a smirk playing at your mouth—it feels dangerous. like you're dangling bait in front of a very specific, very excitable predator.

your phone vibrates in your hand before you can even set it down.

beomgyu: ???? beomgyu: where are you going looking like that

the message burns through you like a live wire. you can practically hear his voice—that particular tone he gets when he's trying (and failing) to sound casual, the way his pitch jumps just slightly when he's flustered. your fingers fly across the screen before you can think better of it.

you: why? you wanna come with?

beomgyu: thats not— beomgyu: i was just asking bro

you bite your lip to keep from grinning. the three dots appear and disappear three times before you finally get:

beomgyu: ...are you meeting someone?

there it is. that tiny crack in his usual bravado. you're about to respond with something suitably teasing when your doorbell rings, an insistent, impatient buzz that could only belong to one person.

when you swing the door open, beomgyu is standing there looking unfairly good for someone who supposedly rushed over on a whim. his hair is slightly damp, curling at the ends like he just showered, and he's wearing that stupid tank top that shows off his arms, the one that makes your mouth go dry. in his outstretched hand dangles your charger—the one you're 90% sure you didn't leave at his place.

"you forgot this," he announces, pushing past you into your apartment and into your bedroom, like he owns it. the scent of his cologne, something warm and expensive that clings to all your hoodies after he wears them, fills the space between you.

you raise an eyebrow as you shut the door. "did i?"

"yes," he says, too quickly, already making himself at home on your bed. "you're so forgetful. it's a miracle you function without me."

you don't call him out on the obvious lie. instead, you lean against the doorframe and watch as he tries (and fails) to look casual, his fingers tapping an uneven rhythm against his thigh. the neckline of his tank top slips slightly with every movement, revealing more of his collarbones than strictly necessary.

"so," he says, eyes scanning your outfit with poorly concealed interest, "where are you going?"

"nowhere special," you say, moving to sit beside him. the bed dips under your weight, forcing his knee to bump against yours.

"then why do you look like that?"

"like what?" you lean in closer, watching with satisfaction as his breath hitches.

beomgyu's throat works as he swallows. "like... like you're trying too hard."

you gasp dramatically, pressing a hand to your chest. "rude. maybe i just wanted to look nice."

"for who?"

the question comes out sharper than he intended, his fingers twitching against the pillows scattered on your bed. something warm and pleased curls in your stomach at the possessive edge in his voice.

before you can answer, beomgyu suddenly flexes his arms, his biceps straining against the thin fabric of his sleeves. "you see this?" he says, grinning that stupid, cocky grin that makes you want to kiss it off his face. "this is what peak performance looks like."

you roll your eyes. "please. i could bench press you."

his eyes light up with that competitive gleam you know all too well. "oh, you wish."

"prove it."

the challenge hangs in the air for all of two seconds before beomgyu grabs the nearest pillow and smacks you square in the face with it. you shriek, more out of surprise than actual pain, and immediately retaliate by grabbing another pillow and swinging with all your might.

beomgyu blocks it effortlessly, laughing as you growl in frustration. "weak," he taunts, dodging your next swing. "come on, is that all you've got?"

in a flash of inspiration, you toss the pillow aside and lunge at him instead. beomgyu's eyes widen comically as you collide with him, sending you both tumbling across the mattress in a tangle of limbs. you end up straddling his hips, immediately going for his most vulnerable spots; his sides, just above his hips, where you know he's ticklish.

beomgyu shrieks, actually shrieks, his whole body jerking beneath you as he dissolves into breathless laughter. "s-stop—fuck—" he gasps, trying in vain to squirm away, but you've got him pinned, your fingers dancing mercilessly along his ribs.

"give up," you demand, grinning down at him.

"never," he chokes out between laughs, his face flushed pink, his hair a wild mess against your cushions.

you're both laughing so hard it hurts, the sound filling your apartment, and for a moment everything feels perfect. light. easy. like this is exactly where you're both meant to be.

then you realise.

your hands are splayed across his stomach, his abs flexing beneath your touch with every ragged breath he takes. his own hands have somehow found their way to your waist, his fingers pressing into your skin through the thin fabric of your top. the warmth of him seeps into you, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath you, and suddenly you're hyper aware of every point of contact between you.

because—

oh.

oh no.

beomgyu is hot. like, stupidly, unfairly hot. the kind of hot that makes your mouth go dry and your thoughts scatter. his lips are parted as he tries to catch his breath, his eyes dark and fixed on you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. the muscles in his arms are taut where they bracket your thighs, and suddenly all you can think about is how badly you want him to choke you.

before you can finish the thought, beomgyu moves.

in one smooth motion, he flips you over, reversing your positions with embarrassing ease. your back hits the plush mattress of your bed, his weight pressing into you just enough to make your pulse skyrocket. then his arm slides around your neck in a playful, but surprisingly firm chokehold, his biceps flexing against your throat.

your mind whites out.

your mouth, unfortunately, does not.

"god, that feels so good," you moan, the words slipping out unbidden, your voice embarrassingly breathy.

beomgyu freezes.

you freeze.

beomgyu stumbles back like you’ve just set him on fire, his entire face burning so red it’s a miracle he hasn’t spontaneously combusted. his mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, his hands flapping uselessly at his sides as he chokes on air. you’ve never seen him like this—beomgyu, who’s always so loud, so obnoxiously confident, reduced to a stammering, malfunctioning mess because of you.

your own heart is hammering so hard you’re surprised it hasn’t burst out of your chest yet, but the longer he stands there looking like his brain has short-circuited, the more the initial panic starts to melt into something dangerously close to amusement. because god, he’s such a loser. your loser. and before you can chicken out, before you can backtrack and play it off like a joke, the words are tumbling out of your mouth—

“i think i like you.”

beomgyu’s jaw drops. like, actually drops. his eyes go comically wide, his entire body freezing like you’ve just hit him with a stun gun. for a second, you’re terrified you’ve broken him completely, that he’s going to turn around and bolt out the door and never speak to you again. but then—

“what?” he chokes out, voice cracking embarrassingly.

you swallow, suddenly feeling exposed. “you heard me.”

“i—no, say it again.”

“no.”

“please.”

“beomgyu—”

he makes a noise that’s half-groan, half-whine, dragging his hands down his face before pacing across your room like a caged animal. his fingers keep tugging at his hair, his breathing uneven as he mutters to himself, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head, smoke nearly coming out of his ears from how hard he’s thinking.

you should probably be more nervous, but mostly you’re just endeared. and a little annoyed.

“you’re freaking out,” you point out, trying to sound casual even though your palms are sweating.

“yeah, no shit,” he snaps, spinning to face you with wild eyes. “you can’t just—you can’t just say that and expect me to be normal about it!”

“i didn’t expect anything! i was just—”

“just what? just casually dropping the bomb that you like me after moaning when i choked you—”

“oh my god, shut up—”

“no, because what the fuck—”

you groan, flopping back onto your bed and covering your face with your hands. this is a disaster. a nightmare. you should’ve just kept your mouth shut, should’ve played it off like a joke, should’ve—

“i like you too, idiot.”

your hands drop.

beomgyu is standing at the foot of your bed, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his cheeks still flushed but his gaze steady now. your breath catches.

“...what?”

he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair again. “i like you. like, like like you. have for—fuck, i don’t even know how long.” his voice drops, softer now. “i just didn’t know how to deal with it. thought you didn’t see me that way.”

you sit up slowly, your pulse roaring in your ears. “...are you serious?”

“yes, i’m serious,” he mutters, looking away. “you think i’d be this much of a mess if i wasn’t?”

you stare at him. he stares back. the silence stretches between you, thick and charged, until—

you burst out laughing.

beomgyu’s face does something complicated, caught between offence and confusion. “why are you laughing?”

“because you’re such a disaster,” you wheeze, wiping at your eyes. “all this time, and you were just—god, you’re pathetic.”

“excuse me—”

“you heard me.”

he growls, actually growls, before closing the distance between you in two long strides. his hands cup your face, rough but gentle, and then his lips are on yours—hot, insistent, perfect.

you melt into it immediately, your fingers tangling in his hair as you kiss him back with all the pent up frustration of months of pining. beomgyu makes a noise low in his throat, something between a whimper and a groan, his grip tightening as he nips at your bottom lip. you gasp, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes your stomach flip.

his hands roam your sides, slipping under the hem of your shirt to trace the bare skin of your waist. his fingers are warm, calloused from playing guitar, and the way they dig into your hips sends shivers down your spine. you arch into him, pressing closer, and he lets out this noise—this pathetic, whiny little sound that goes straight to your core.

you freeze for half a second. “bro, you good?” you whisper, half teasing, half wrecked yourself.

beomgyu groans, hiding his face in your neck. “do i look good?”

“fuck,” you breathe against his lips.

beomgyu pulls back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown wide, his lips swollen and shiny. “you—you’re killing me,” he whines, his voice wrecked already.

you grin, dragging him back down. “good.”

he kisses you again, messier this time, his hands sliding up your back to fumble with the clasp of your bra. he’s terrible at it, his fingers clumsy, and he groans in frustration when he can’t get it undone.

“help me,” he mumbles against your mouth, his cheeks burning.

you laugh, reaching behind you to undo it for him, and the way his eyes darken when he realises what you’ve done is priceless. his hands slide up your bare back, his touch hesitant at first, like he can’t believe he’s allowed to do this.

“you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, his voice shaky as his fingers trace the curve of your spine. “fuck, you have no idea—”

you cut him off with another kiss, rolling so you’re straddling his hips. his hands immediately fly to your waist, gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. you grind down experimentally, and the way his breath hitches, the way his fingers dig into your skin—god, you could get addicted to this.

“please,” he whimpers, his hips jerking up involuntarily. “please, i—fuck, i can’t—”

you lean down to nip at his earlobe, grinning when he shudders. “can’t what?” you whisper.

“you know what,” he groans, his hands sliding up your thighs. “you’re evil.”

you laugh, kissing him again, slower this time, savouring the way he melts under you. when you finally pull away, his forehead rests against yours, his breathing ragged.

“fuck, fuck—” he’s babbling now, his usual eloquence completely gone as he kisses down your neck, your collarbones, his teeth scraping lightly over your skin. “you’re—shit, you’re so pretty, i can’t—fuck—”

you tug at his hair, pulling him back up to kiss him properly, swallowing his desperate noises. his hands are shaking where they grip your thighs, his breath coming in ragged pants against your lips.

“beomgyu,” you murmur, your voice low and teasing. “you’re such a mess.”

he groans, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “you did this,” he mumbles, his lips brushing your skin. “you turned me into this.”

you hum, running your fingers through his hair. “and you love it.”

he lifts his head just enough to glare at you, but there’s no heat behind it—just fond exasperation and so much want it makes your chest ache. “yeah,” he admits, his voice rough. “i really fucking do.”

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Anton is a sweetheart. He’s non assuming and soft spoken, so quiet that he has to clear his throat each time he speaks. He’s kind, always extending the same tenderness and patience to people he received as a child. He’s one of the few men in his program that the girls didn’t have trouble approaching if they had a question or trouble with an assignment. 

Each time anyone approached him with a question he was helpful, pushing his thick frames up his face before leaning to the paper. With a pencil he’d mark where the mistake was, and explaining it with a gentle voice that had girls leaning in even closer. 

After they got a smell of his cologne and the look of his soft skin everything else was easy. The girls would tilt their heads in curiosity about Anton, intrigued at how someone so shy made it this far in life. How someone was so cute from afar but something more once you got close. All he had to do was avoid their eyes and chew his lip a few times before they were sliding their phones over to him.

Just in case I need help with another assignment.

Anton’s eyes would always widen in shock. Not from the surprise of being pursued but just how easy it all was. The girls never found out that Anton was red in the face from the rush and he ducked his head to hide a smile of satisfaction. They would laugh lightly seeing his reaction, observing what they thought was insecurity. Before going on about their day they’d touch his shoulder or pull on him playfully.

Anton is a sweetheart.

But he also has a problem.

He knows he does. His friends compared it to a sweet tooth that bordered addiction, or someone who would walk into a casino with a twenty dollar bill expecting to hit big. They sometimes even called Anton a psychopath when he’d get all giddy telling them about his day. 

Anton knew he had a problem, but it was hard to stop when he got the sweet fix or hit the jackpot each time. Nothing could top the feeling of euphoria Anton would get when he’d come to one of those girls after they asked him to come to their place. He’d look at the messages in the comfort of his room and smile, knowing what it meant when they’d preface the study session by saying they were alone. He’s addicted to the game he’d play every time, faking the shy and insecure nerd that pretty girls were going to eat for dinner. Like they were throwing him a bone by inviting him to their apartment or dorm under the guise of doing homework. 

They’d answer the door in something easy to take off or something that would cling to them like a second skin. If they were particularly desperate it’d be both, yoga pants that showed everything and a cropped shirt that rode up with every movement. Anton loved shamelessly gawking at the girls behind his glasses, shuffling from foot to foot in front of them before they invited him in. He waited for each direction, eyes darting around their room before he was invited to sit down or told to take out his notebook. He would purposefully be a step behind, showing how lost he was to be in a room that didn’t belong to him or his other intraverted friends.

He loved letting the girls make the first move. On their bed settling in as they really got a look at him in the setting of their room. Something about how clueless he was made the girls all the more strung up. He looked everywhere but at them, shrinking himself on their bed. His timidness made the girls love making the first subtle touch on his flexed arm, or purposefully grabbing his pencil so they could compare hand sizes. Anton loved acting like he was nervous wreck from the longing stares to the side of his face, like he hadn’t done this dance a million times before. He loved messing up his words while trying to act oblivious to the hungry look in their eyes. He loved the pretty smile the girls would get like he was the one falling into their trap. 

His absolute favorite part was when they’d turn his head with their soft hands. Anton would falter from the eye contact, letting his lips part in confusion as they focused on him. The notebooks and assignments between them long forgotten as they shuffled closer to him on the bed.

“Have you ever been with a girl before?” 

They’d always ask that. Voices light and airy, already having an answer in their mind.

“I have.” 

He’d always answer with a stutter. The falter in his voice never made them push any further. They assumed by Anton’s darting eyes that the number was so minuscule asking about it would only embarrass him. 

(He stopped being embarrassed of his conquests a long time ago. He also stopped being able to keep track.)

Anton is a sweetheart, with a problem of seeing pretty girls eyes flash when they realize that he is more than capable.

The moment was always the same. The mood in the room would change when Anton would sheepishly take off his oversized hoodie. Each time silence would settle over the room when they saw what he was hiding underneath. His undershirt hugged close to his body, showing the chisel and the hard work he put in at the gym. When he was feeling tired while working out he’d replay the sight of the girls taking in his toned body. They’d reach out to touch his chest as if they were expecting it all to be fake, other times they would just let out a breathless wow.

He always basked in seeing the girls try to maintain their composure. They would become the ones averting their eyes and stumbling over their words. They would be shellshocked on their side of the bed, wondering what else he was hiding. But Anton was still sweet, he always was. He would always wait patiently to see if this was really what the girls wanted. He would pick at the seam of his pants and look down to the forgotten homework to let them know they could go back to what they were doing and pretend this never happened. But the obvious bulge in his pants always made pretty girls reach for the waistband of their pants without a second thought.

Anton was never sure if they gawked at him in an attempt to get his confidence up or if they were truly surprised. As if his build and height were no indicator, each time Anton took off his pants to reveal his dick they were always so shocked. That’s when the resolve would truly fall, when their jaws would drop and they’d blink their eyes from the sheer surprise. Precum would leak from his tip just from the sight of them coming to terms with what was twitching and red and angry in front of them.

“You’re big.”

The infliction in their voice was always different. Some girls would be excited, others would be confused, a few times they almost seemed disgusted. Like there was no way the shy kid in the back of the class was hiding this.

“Am I really?” 

Anton wasn’t an idiot. Even if he said it looking down at the bed, he knew that he was endowed and it was pretty. But sometimes he just needed to hear it an extra time, or look up to see a quick head nod when they couldn’t fathom saying it again. He was an insecure nerd after all. The quiet recluse in the back of class that barely had friends. An absolute sweetheart that threw girls around and manipulated their bodies into positions they didn’t even know about.

He loved being a good fuck. For a long time he believed he was put on the Earth to fuck pretty girls and to stop them from judging books by their covers. Anton was killing two birds with one stone by cooing at girls condescendingly while he gave them everything. It was his civic duty to exert his strength and to kiss girls until they were breathless and his glasses fogged. Each time he heard I didn’t know you had that in you an angel gained it’s wings. Whenever they’d tell their girlfriends what the shy nerd did to them in their dorm Anton was making the world a better place. Sometimes he would get called back, sometimes he would run through entire friend groups just to prove he was really committed to the cause. 

No matter how many people Anton fucked, no one seemed to believe it. Like it was collective psychosis that the nerd was a good lay, or a big open secret everyone was hush about. Anton was still treated like he was meek, his soft nature made everyone believe he was an open book, so much to the point that they made wrong judgements about his character. He actually hated staying inside and enjoyed exploring the city and trying new things with his friends. He was a sensitive person but he could also advocate for himself and admit when he was wrong. He was quiet, but only because he valued personal, quiet conversations more than anything. 

He eventually learned that people’s preconceived notions of him couldn’t be helped. Anton could fuck the entirety of the campus and people would still treat him like he was made of glass. He decided to be an optimist, finding the silver lining in people assuming he was the sweetheart with a cute smile. Their perception of him could’ve been worse, being shy was infinitely better than being loud and obnoxious. So when people would assume things about Anton’s personality he would only react positively. He would let his eyes go wide, acting shocked when someone would tell him about their first impression of him. 

“I thought you were an asshole at first.”

You told Anton nonchalantly, as if his whole world didn’t crumble. You didn’t even spare him a second glance as you wrote on your lab report. You were too busy adjusting the calculations and reading over the proper way to dispose the chemicals a million times to make sure it was right while Anton sputtered to himself. He was caught off guard by your honesty and surprisingly quick answer as if it was on the forefront of your mind. You only tilted your head up for a second before you had the answer. 

Anton didn’t know what to do about you. Just when he thought he had seen every girl in his major you came along, sitting in the back of class with him. You seemed to be the recluse of a person everyone mistook Anton for. You were in and out of class, not bothering to raise your hand during discussions or to socialize with your peers. You also didn’t seem to latch onto him like other girls of his major did. When they looked for Anton’s face in the lecture hall you walked right past him, not bothering to look up from your notebook or laptop. For the first time in his life Anton felt compelled to make the first move. He thought that you two had built up a good rapport, and that you saw him as your kindhearted and resigned classmate.

But you saw him as anything but that. You said it confidently too, and loud enough for your classmates at the next lab table to look over.

“What do you mean?” Anton said quietly.

You frowned looking up from the pamphlet. You were visibly annoyed, you even motioned to the undisposed chemicals to show him that you two still had class.

“Can we talk about this when our grade isn’t at stake, please?” You asked.

You weren’t commanding for his benefit. You weren’t taking into account that he might be afraid to hear a negative opinion about himself. You weren’t looking at him like girls had before, like you were trying to pick him apart for your own entertainment. You were willing to put validation for Anton on the back burner because you had other things to do. When Anton would have girls gush over him you were benevolent, indifferent to his fake insecurities. 

The more you paid attention to your work rather than him, Anton found himself scrambling. He was working hard for your affection. When the teacher announced that class was over and lab reports were due the next morning he leapt at the chance to invite himself over. He was supposed to be shy and insecure, getting nervous over the mere thought of being alone with the opposite sex. His facade went over your head. Instead, Anton watched you do the cost-benefit analysis of inviting him over before you shrugged your shoulders.

“Alright. Just follow me.” You said before setting a ridiculously fast paced speed walk to the other side of campus.

But Anton followed you. He bobbed and weaved through crowds and essentially chased you across the common area while you continued on your pace. Other girls would walk with Anton, trying to pry information out from his clammy hands. You barely spared a second glance over your shoulder like you were trying to lose him. Anton followed you all the way to your dorm, then up the stairs, then waited for you beside your door as you put your backpack on your desk and pulled up a chair next to yours. You didn’t extend an invitation towards Anton to take a seat. 

He waits for you to step in. He’s laid the trap by taking off his hoodie even though you kept your room cold, and shuffled his seat closer to yours. He put his elbows on the table next to yours coming closer to the lines you stopped writing on your paper.

He laid the trap. He can see you hesitate, looking from him to the assignment and then back to him. Anton keeps his eyes on the paper, rubbing his fingers over his lips to stop himself from smiling.

“Do you work out?” You asked.

Your voice didn’t have the sultry infliction that girls usually had when they asked him that question. You didn’t reach across and squeeze his toned bicep or shamelessly drag your eyes over his broad shoulders. You asked the question simply, no other intention except for wanting an answer.

“I do. Sometimes.” Anton said.

You only hummed and went back to your paper. Anton scooted closer to you, hoping his Le Labo Lavande 31 and the hand across the back of your chair was invading your space enough for you to really get a good look at him. Anton watched your eyes dart again. You were nervous, eyes wide and Anton felt the rush.

“You smell nice.” You said.

The line was pulled from the trap. You’re caged in and Anton looks to you. He knows about the death grip you have on your pencil, it makes him brave enough to invade your space even more.

“You forgot to write your observations here.” Anton says, trying to make lab reports as sexy as possible. 

This assignment would’ve been abandoned a long time ago. If this was anyone else it would’ve never made it out of their backpack. You were adamant about your work, looking at the tips of his pretty fingers where you left a spot blank. He should have his report out too. He should be writing something just like you try to, instead Anton leans closer and he swears the pencil in your hand is going to break from the pressure. 

Is this how he should’ve been acting with those girls all that time? This is real nerves rolling off your body. The anxiety almost makes Anton nervous by extension, he shivers when he finally lets his hand on the back of your chair touch your body. You stiffen and he’s amazed. You went from being indifferent to being too aware. He feels you back away slightly, but when his hand tightens on your shoulder you lean in. You’re hot and cold, not knowing what you want. He can feel you tremble, and your eyes dart from his eyes to his lips. 

“I’ve never done anything before.”

Anton comes closer. His hand that pointed at a random thing on your paper turns into a fist as he distracts you completely. He brings himself forward until he’s in your line of sight, even when you try so hard to look at anything but him. He smirks when your eyes dart past him, and he fully lets his arm rest across your back. You’re malleable, before you refused to even bend to him but now you move from his slightest touch.

“What do you mean?” He asks. “You’ve never done what before?”

He should go for the nerds more often. The way you already seem sweaty and antsy just from thinking about what is happening makes Anton want to play with you some more. He knows it’s perverse, like a dog playing a smaller animal to death. He wants to see if you’ll twitch, if you’re playing dead just to try and make a run for it. 

“I’ve never—I know that—” Anton raises his eyebrows and nods to each one of your broken statements. “It just seems like—”

“Like what?” He smiles and nudges you. His smile is toothy, yours is tightlipped to a straight line. “C’mon. Talk to me.” He continues.

“You smell really good.” You repeat.

You’re the twitching body of a mouse in his jaws. He just smile and nods at your statement, how you go back to saying old things in an attempt to catch your footing. He forces you to sit in the uncomfortable silence. He waits for you to say something knowing you can’t, he waits for you to touch him even if you’re caught like a deer in the headlights.

“I look good too, right?” He starts drawing shapes on your shoulder.

He’s having too much fun. He’s entertained seeing your intelligence fail you. You’re stumped, you drop your pencil to fully clench your fist. 

The pencil is rolling back and forth on your lab report, the small sound is the only thing that speaks. You’re still desperately trying to figure out how you got into this situation, how one thing led to another so quickly that his hand is reaching underneath the sleeve of your shirt.

“You look good, Anton.” You agree.

“Thanks.” Anton smiles and you do too, averting your eyes and nodding to yourself to feign indifference. Anton looks down to your shirt, still playing with your skin underneath your sleeve. “You do too.” He says.

Another bout of silence. You let yourself be touched, hands still clenched on top of the table. Anton rests his hand on top of your fist, smoothing over the protruding veins trying to coax them open. This is more fulfilling than playing with popular girls. The game still hasn’t ended for him. He’s on the fifth consecutive jackpot when you finally open your mouth again.

“I don’t.” Your hand opens and Anton clasps over it, smiling to himself when it disappears. “I don’t know what you want me to do.” You stutter.

You’re too cute for your own good. Finally you look at him with big eyes and your eyebrows raised. You give into his touches a little more, finally warming up to all the attention. Still your pupils shake, and Anton brings his hand from your shoulder to your face to keep you from turning away.

“Can I make you feel good?” He asks.

You could barely nod before Anton was guiding you up from your chair and backing you towards your bed. He watched you stumble when the back of your legs hit the edge. You looked up at him, your pretty eyes already looking wet. Maybe he really did have a problem. Because he loved seeing them widen in surprise when he put his hands underneath your arms, lifting you up just enough to set you on the edge of your bed. He loved seeing your jostled expression and the tiny yelp when you landed so perfectly on your sheets.

Anton watched you stay in place, catching your breath from the sudden movement. He watched your chest still as his hands went to the bottom of his tank top. He’s grateful to have such a captive audience. There’s no way he can pretend to be shy after this. You’re astonished as he slowly lifts his shirt, and he watched you shamelessly stare at him before you realized he could see you. 

Anton let you eat him alive before he came up to you, until you had to tilt your head upwards to see him. You didn’t dare lift your hands from the bed, like he was going to disappear the moment you touched him. Like he was straight from a dream you only looked up to him, waiting for what he was going to do next. Anton wonders if you thought you’d end up in this position, with him looming over you and his hand creeping to a spot under your chin. He absolutely can’t stop doing this. The view is too pretty, your stillness is addicting. Like you’re too afraid to even breathe too loud in case it’d break the tension. He bends closer to your lips, eyes still open after you screw yours shut. You preemptively grip your mattress for dear life and he can’t help but smile.

He smiles into the kisses, each peck bringing you closer and closer to your mattress. When your back is against the sheets Anton climbs on, refusing the break contact. You look so pretty underneath him, eyes squeezing shut again when another wave of realization hits you. You’ve never been in this position before, with someone like Anton looming over you while still being so sweet. He runs his hand over the apple of your cheek, and fixes your shirt that left your stomach exposed.

“Is this okay?” Anton asks.

He knows it is, because your legs seemed to spread a little bit more and more with each passing second. By the time his hand drifts down to your neck you’re completely open, your soft pants bunching at the place Anton wants to touch you next. The valley of your chest gives him a straight path down, and your bent legs open further.

“Want me to touch you?” He asks.

He knows he’s cruel. You’re metaphorically dead and his face is covered in blood, but still he continues. He’s jumping around your body, reaching out a playful hand like you have the life to play back.

“Please touch me.” You whine pitifully.

Anton presses a chaste kiss to your forehead as his hands work past the elastic band of your pants and underwear. You flinch from his hands, then you preen your hips towards his fingers, then you pull back. He’s mocking when he coos at you, the time pressing a kiss to the side of your head. He almost feels bad. You’re clearly fighting against something, your eyes are shut tight as you press your head into the mattress. Anton tries kissing your eyes open, but it only makes you squeeze them tighter.

With you writhing underneath him, he took the time to look around your room. Your little pegboard above your desk where you had calendar marked with all the important due dates of upcoming assignments. Your neatly placed books and papers, your stuffed animals around your pillows. You didn’t make your bed this morning, instead laying on crumbled sheets and gripping whatever you could get your hands on. Your hand went to Anton’s forearm and clutched it, whimpering something that he couldn’t decipher.

“Does it feel good?” He asks.

You nod, and when Anton tries to pull away he feels your nails dig into his forearm. You seem unaware of what you’re doing, how you’re silently begging him to keep going. You’re just moving underneath him, already beginning to twitch helplessly. Anton purposefully pushes his fingers deeper into your clit until he knows he’s bringing you the smallest amount of pain. He’s pulling the strings, watching your body react to him because you can’t control it. By this point the girls would already be asking him to take his pants off, but you can’t even form a coherent thought. He’s having fun in his jeans, watching you twitch and twist and grip his arm with all your might.

“Anton.”

You flick your hips up and he presses his hand to your hip, pinning you to the bed. You still try to swivel, useless against his strength. He’s intrigued that you aren’t trying to be defiant but you simply can’t help it. All the other girls were pliant immediately, so desperate to please the quiet boy in class they underestimated. You’re defiant because you can’t handle it.

“What’s up?” He asks.

His completely even voice makes you whine. The flush across your cheeks tells him you’re embarrassed, red hot and real unlike his facade.

You don’t answer him. You just dig your nails into his arm and attempt to get his prodding fingers to slide in. He raises his eyebrows at your not-so-subtle attempts to get him to inside of you.

“You want me to finger you?” He asks.

You nod like a good girl and Anton almost feels bad for asking you the question in a mocking tone. He makes up for it by giving you what you want immediately, sucking in a deep breath to match your deep breath. He smiles when he sees you arch off the bed. This is so much more entertaining than anything else. Just two fingers has you making unfiltered noises and gripping the sheets. Anton has to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing, and he has half a mind to ask you if you’re okay in a serious tone. But he just continues driving his fingers into your hole.

He picks up the speed, just to hear the lewd sound you two make. It’s wet, Anton can already feel the mess on the palm of his hand. He pulls your waistband down to your knees, bringing your thighs closer together. He has to fight against your soft thighs clenching around his hand. He’s still able to drive his fingers in and out of your heat. He likes the resistance even though you clearly want more. Anton is surprised when you lift your shirt on your own accord. It’s obvious you’re doing it to relieve some of the heat you feel, but he’s still flattered nonetheless. His hand presses against your stomach, applying force to the lowest part.

“I can’t.” You whimper.

That’s when Anton finally laughs. He chuckles at how panicked you sound and how you turn your head in embarrassment.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks while picking up the speed of his hand.

You nod your head but when Anton tries to pull his hand away you clench your thighs to keep him in place. He chuckles again, situating one legs on the side of your body and the other between your closed legs. He casts a shadow on you below him, and he can see your eyes open the slightest bit from his movements. He drives your legs apart with his knee, and continues pumping that spot deep in you that leaves you shaking your head.

“I can’t.” You whimper.

“You can.” Anton sees your eyes open, wide and staring directly at him as he drives your legs apart further. “You’re so close.” He says.

Your entire body moves from the speed of his fingers. Even your chests jumps underneath your shirt, and he wants to lift it up to reveal the rest of you. He lets you take it at your own pace since you’re giving him so much already. He just pinches and grabs a handful of your stomach, marveling in how soft you are.

“So cute.” Anton coos. “You had no idea, right?” He asks.

You shake your head and you don’t stop shaking it, like you’re trying to will away your impeding orgasm. Anton watches all of it. He’s never had a pretty girl twitch for him so much, or reach a greedy hand up to grip your chest. Something you do when you’re close, something he wants to do for you. His hand superimposes yours, and grips harder too. You’re arching into his palm and preening your hips on his fingers, and then he watches your body go rigid.

“You’re cumming.” Anton teases.

Your whimpering yes rips through the room, and Anton feels wound up himself. He has to set his sights on something else. Pretty confident girls are fun, but seeing your shame manifest in the way you push and pull at him is much more intoxicating. He likes that he knows what you want but you’re too scared to say it, it’s your body that has to act on its own to fulfill your needs. When you continue going, and your strangled moans turn to broken oh my God’s and your legs start shaking, Anton knows he won’t be able to get enough. He keeps pushing you further because he knows you can take it, and you continue whimpering. He doesn’t stop until you sound panicked, and your hand starts pushing his away.

He still looks down at you with a smile on his face. Your head is turned towards your fluffy comforter, exhaling and inhaling so hard you move the fur with your breath. He’s satisfied seeing what he’s done to you, and he’s even more amused when you turn your head to face him.

Your eyes are wide, your lips are swollen and slick from your mindless drooling. Anton feels something in his chest when your eyes move past his body to the prominent bulge in his pants. He’s a step ahead, shaking his head and moving back to rest on his haunches. That comes later, when he plays with you some more and you start voicing how badly you want to please him. When you reach your hand towards his crotch Anton grabs your hand instead, intertwining your fingers.

“I just wanted to make you feel good.” He says.

but one thing that you just can't seem to get a grasp on... is how he really feels about you.

as well as you can confidently say that you know choi beomgyu, the never-ending mixed signals he throws at you may just be your downfall in that department, from the outrageous flirting towards you on one end of the spectrum to the bragging of his latest phone number acquirement on the other.

i mean, what are you supposed to think when he's sweetly tucking your hair behind your ear one second and then commenting on how pretty that passing girl is the next? (unbeknownst to you, he's actually just trying to gauge your reaction).

but at this point you've had enough of the guessing games. you're gonna take things into your own hands and find out exactly how he really feels.

...or at least... that's what you told yourself, when you'd laid out across your sheets and took those coy little pictures, fully nude and fully ready to "accidentally" send them to your best friend to see what he would do;

but now, you release a resigned sigh as you set your phone aside untouched and tug your — his — sweater further over your shoulders in the chilly air of your room.

"stupid beomgyu," you grumble. "stupid me... stupid idea."

your lost confidence seems to mock you as your phone suddenly buzzes with a text from none other than the exact man of the hour, and you huff as you read it.

— hellspawn 🙄🤎: i'm coming over

his contact name feels as fitting as ever. "right, just invite yourself on in," you mutter to yourself (as if that's not exactly what the two of you always do anyways).

you have half a mind to respond with something snarky, but instead you just leave it be as you stare down at the nudes still sitting hauntingly unsent in your end of the message box, and with a shiver you resort to sticking your tongue out at his contact picture and leaving the text unanswered as you punch the air in a mini fit and toss your phone away into your pillows.

"i hate boys."

and with that, you grouchily trudge your way into the living room to start up the show that you've been binging together, phone and pictures forgotten.

unfortunately.

because what you don't know, but what you're soon about to find out, is just how crazy your best friend actually is about you — and as beomgyu stands frozen outside of your apartment building, staring down at his phone with a short-circuiting brain and eyes growing blurred from lack of blinking in the chilly night air, convenience store bag full of snacks falling forgotten to the ground — well.

he didn't even buy a lottery ticket, but it seems he's just won.

your naked body glows back at him from his screen as he fumbles back into motion, urging his fingers to remember their own mobility as he gulps and swipes hungrily through the array of photos that you'd sent.

hurriedly he brushes his long hair out of his eyes as it falls forward, his hunched frame in the middle of the sidewalk probably resembling that of a homeless man as he holds his phone close, shielding the sight of you from any prying eyes (there are none) while his thoughts suddenly erupt into every possible direction.

is this really happening? is this real life? what does this mean? is this a confession? she obviously wants me too, then, right? shit, should i have dressed better? do i smell okay? should i run back home and — oh god, what if these were meant for someone else? did she really mean to send them? what if she never speaks to me again? oh god, she's so.. she's so.. holy fuck.

beomgyu is breathless as his eyes roam across your soft skin, your pretty curves, the sly hint of a smirk peeking from your lips as your finger slips between them —

he feels his cock straining tighter against his pants the longer that he scrolls.

relishing in the sight that he's been dreaming of for so long, he imagines it were his hand wrapped gently around your throat instead of your own, his fingers caressing your bare tits and sliding down beyond the camera where his imagination is left to run wild — fuck, he's gotta get up there.

forcing himself to tear his eyes away, he quickly gathers the scattered snacks and stuffs them mindlessly back into their convenience store bag as he hurries towards the entrance of your building, not even needing to think twice as he inputs the code and all but lunges for the elevator.

"alright, be cool, be cool, be cool."

the deep breaths he's been taking and mini self pep talk he's been mumbling all but crumble away meaningless when he types in your apartment's passcode and opens the door to see you standing there by the couch wearing his sweater, so big on you that it's easy to pretend that your little pair of shorts underneath aren't even there;

and he's suddenly grateful for the long length of his hair as he feels the way his ears burn red underneath, but the inevitable flush on his face doesn't escape your notice as you glance up at him for a moment before turning your attention back to the tv remote in your hand.

"why do you look like you just ran a fucking marathon?" you scoff. "did the ahjumma downstairs hit you with her grocery bag again?"

but beomgyu is far beyond saving as images of you underneath him flicker across his mind, now no longer fueled by his imagination but by the real thing that you'd just graced him with minutes before.

"those for me?"

you pause. his voice is raspy, strained, almost breathless.

you glance back up at him. your brows pull together in confusion.

"huh?"

beomgyu barely breaks eye contact with you as he unlocks his phone, wordlessly holding it up to show you, eyes raking over your face for your reaction;

the remote falls to the floor with a thunk as your eyes widen and hands fly up to clap over your mouth in shock.

what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck- I SENT THEM?!?!

you rip your eyes away from the sight of your own body on his screen to meet his burning stare, and when you do — all excuses fizzle away as a shiver runs along your spine and straight down to your core.

the desire pooled in your best friend's eyes is unlike any look you've ever seen on him before, breaths coming out labored from his chest though he tries to control them; and when he takes a step forwards and asks again, voice deep and words punctuated,

"were those for me?"

you're nothing but a goner as you answer him with shaky legs and a nod.

the triumphant grin that spreads across beomgyu's blushing face is downright sinful as his bag of snacks once again meets a forgotten fate on the ground — along with his jacket that he immediately shrugs off of his shoulders, already reaching for the hem of his sweatshirt as he moves towards you with well-mustered boldness and says,

"should've waited for me, sweetheart. we could’ve taken them together.”

──────────────────────

— taglist: @razsberrie, @saejinniestar, @hyukalyptus, @florestalio, @beomiracles, @kiss4baku, @hyukascampfire, @kejingken, @cherr4es, @stawmerry, @choikanghuening, @dawngyu, @soo-blue, @paradigms13

"why are you looking at me like that?"

you blink, snapped out of your trance. yeonjun turns to you, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"like what?" you ask, tilting your head.

"like you're about to bully me."

you let out a soft hum. "i was just thinking."

he snorts. "that’s never good."

you ignore him. "you’re not a very good kisser.".

his entire body goes stiff, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. his phone slips from his grip, bouncing onto his lap, and he blinks at you in pure devastation.

"huh?" he finally croaks out, voice cracking horribly.

you shrug. "i mean, you're just kinda… meh. nothing special."

yeonjun’s jaw drops. he presses a dramatic hand to his chest like you’ve just stabbed him. "EXCUSE ME?!"

you barely hold in your laugh at his utterly betrayed expression. "i dunno, babe. you just kinda suck."

"I SUCK?! i—when? why didn’t you say anything before" he whines, eyes wide with disbelief.

you hum, inspecting your nails. "I was being nice."

yeonjun gasps, clutching his chest like a 19th-century widow. his ears are red. "YOU WERE BEING NICE?! BABY, MY EGO—HELLO?!"

before he can spiral into a full-blown meltdown, you reach up, gently plucking his glasses off his face.

his words die in his throat.

"which is why you need more practice," you murmur.

his breath hitches.

then, before he can so much as process what’s happening, your fingers weave into his hair, tugging him in as your lips crash against his.

yeonjun whimpers.

he goes boneless instantly, melting into you like putty. his plush lips part against yours, kissing you back so desperately, so messily, it’s obvious he’s completely lost in it. your fingers tangle deeper into his hair, tugging lightly, and the sound he makes—somewhere between a whimper and a whine—sends heat rushing through you.

it’s a mess. his lips move against yours with a feverish hunger, hands gripping your waist as if you’ll disappear if he lets go. he’s so eager, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that makes you shiver.

when you finally pull away, only because you need air, yeonjun chases your lips with a needy whine, trying to pull you back in.

but then, against your lips, he mumbles in the saddest, most pathetic voice:

"do you really think I’m a bad kisser?"

you lose it.

a laugh bubbles out of you, and you cup his face, pressing a soft peck to his nose. his cheeks are burning, his brows furrowed in genuine distress.

"i was just messing with you, baby," you giggle, pecking his lips again. "i just needed an excuse to kiss you. I literally can’t get enough of you."

yeonjun blinks. once. twice.

then he groans, dramatically collapsing onto your shoulder, wrapping himself around you like a clingy koala. "you’re SO mean."

you laugh, rubbing his back. "you love me."

"unfortunately," he grumbles, muffled against your neck.

you smirk. "and you’re a great kisser, by the way."

he peeks up at you, still red-faced, before stealing another quick kiss—like he needs to make up for lost time. and despite his flustered state, you know he’s already planning ways to get back at you… if he ever stops blushing long enough to think straight.

SOOBIN

for someone so tall and broad, soobin is an absolute baby when it comes to you. the man stutters every time you compliment him, avoids eye contact when you so much as hold his hand, and malfunctions if you get even a little bit flirty. he physically cannot handle any form of teasing—his ears turn red, his hands get clammy, and he lets out those pathetic little whimpers whenever you catch him off guard.

right now, though, soobin is doing so well pretending to be normal.

you two are in his kitchen, baking together, and he’s very focused on whisking the brownie batter. his eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, lips slightly parted, his strong arms flexing with every precise movement. the sight of his broad shoulders tapering into his slim waist is so unfair. the way his biceps subtly shift under his oversized t-shirt?—it’s all so unfairly attractive. he’s doing absolutely nothing and yet, somehow, he’s driving you insane.

you step forward, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind and burying your face into his back. soobin stiffens. like, completely freezes. you swear you can hear his heart pounding from this position.

then—

"b-babe?" he croaks out, voice cracking violently.

you giggle, tightening your hold around him. "mhm?"

"w-what are you—" he cuts himself off with a sharp inhale when you press a soft kiss against his nape. his breath shudders. you grin against his skin, pressing another kiss, then another, trailing them slowly up to his jaw. you can feel his entire body trembling beneath your touch, his grip on the whisk turning bone-white.

"b-baby, i—"

you don’t let him finish. instead, you suck gently on the soft skin just beneath his ear.

soobin lets out a broken whimper. his whole body shudders, and you swear he whines when you lick over the spot before sucking again, harder this time. his free hand grips the counter for dear life as if that’ll stop his knees from giving out.

"s-stop," he begs, voice so weak, so pathetic.

you don’t stop. you drag your lips across his skin, finding a new spot to bite down on, leaving another mark, and—

"OH SHIT!"

you pull back, startled, just in time to see soobin staring in absolute horror at the bowl in front of him. he’s gripping a salt container. and he just dumped a quarter of it into the brownie batter.

there’s a moment of dead silence.

then—

"YOU DISTRACTED ME!" soobin wails, turning to face you with the saddest pout you’ve ever seen.

you burst out laughing.

"soobin!" you gasp, holding your stomach. "oh my god, you—oh my god—!"

"this is NOT funny!" he cries, stomping his foot like an actual child. "those were gonna be SO GOOD!"

"they still can be!" you tease, wiping a tear from your eye. "just... y'know, if you wanna die of sodium overdose."

soobin groans, covering his face in shame. "i hate you."

you smirk, stepping closer. "no, you don’t."

"I DO."

"no, you don't."

"i dooooo—"

he cuts himself off mid-whine. because suddenly, he’s hit with an idea.

a horrible idea.

and you see it in his eyes before it even happens.

in the blink of an eye, soobin spins around, trapping you against the counter. his arms cage you in, his broad frame looming over you, and he leans in all slow and deliberate, trying to act like he knows what he’s doing.

"now look what you’ve done, baby," he murmurs, voice dropping an octave.

oh.

oh, he thinks he’s being hot.

the problem is—he looks more adorable than hot, because his ears are bright red, his eyes keep darting to your lips like he doesn’t know where else to look, and the way he’s breathing just the tiniest bit too fast gives away how insanely nervous he is.

then he licks his lips.

(or at least, he tries to.)

because the second his tongue peeks out, he accidentally bites it instead, letting out a pathetic little "ow."

you stare at him.

soobin freezes.

the tension shatters.

then you die laughing, "you—YOU TRIED TO BE SMOOTH AND THEN—!"

"NOOOO, WAIT—!"

but you’re already giggling uncontrollably, fully doubling over against his chest.

soobin groans, hiding his face in his hands. "ugh this is so embarrassing!"

you lift your head, still laughing, pressing a kiss to his flaming cheek. "you’re so cute, baby."

"don’t say that!" he whines, flailing his arms.

but you just smirk. "what? i thought you wanted to be all smooth and confident?"

soobin collapses onto the counter, burying his head in his arms. "i am NEVER doing that again."

you giggle, patting his head. "i dunno, baby. i think it was kinda hot."

soobin lifts his head slightly, peeking at you with hopeful eyes. "really?"

you grin. "no."

he lets out the loudest groan ever.

 BEOMGYU

beomgyu is the absolute worst best friend to have a crush on. he’s loud, annoying, and somehow always finds new ways to make you suffer. he’s clingy in the worst way—stealing your snacks, flopping onto you like a deadweight whenever he’s tired, and absolutely refusing to let you do anything in peace. he always has to be touching you—whether it’s throwing his leg over yours, wrapping his arms around you like a koala, or straight-up lying on top of you like you’re a personal mattress.

but the moment you touch him first? malfunction.

the second you get even a little flirty? shutdown.

and lately, you’ve been having way too much fun testing that theory.

because beomgyu’s been working out.

like, seriously working out.

and god, is it showing.

he’s huge now—his shoulders broader, his arms thicker, his waist still slim but now complemented with solid muscle. you don’t know when exactly he started hitting the gym like his life depended on it, but you do know it’s made play-fighting with him so much harder.

like right now, for example.

you’re on your bed, engaged in an intense pillow fight, but it’s not even fair anymore. beomgyu used to suck at this—he used to wheeze and flail and scream whenever you got the upper hand. but now? now he’s too strong. every time you swing at him, he effortlessly blocks it, laughing at your pathetic attempts to win.

"aw, what’s wrong?" he teases, easily dodging your next swing. "is someone losing?"

you scowl. "shut up."

"no, seriously," he grins, mocking you. "this is sad. like, you’re not even putting up a fight. are you even trying?"

oh, fuck him.

you drop the pillow, launching yourself at him instead.

beomgyu yelps as you tackle him down, using your weight to pin him beneath you. before he can react, you go for the kill—your fingers digging into his sides, tickling him ruthlessly.

"no no WAIT—"

his laughter explodes from his chest, high-pitched and desperate. he squirms, his muscles tensing under you as he tries to fight back, but you’re relentless, giggling as he gasps for air.

 but then, just as your giggles subside, you become painfully aware of two things:

beomgyu looks hot.

you want him to choke you.

the realization hits you like a truck. because holy shit—he’s under you, panting, his face flushed, his arms bulging as they grip your waist, his lips parted just slightly, his brown eyes dark and half-lidded as he catches his breath.

oh.

oh, no.

you freeze, eyes locked on his.

beomgyu, of course, being the oblivious loser he is, just blinks at you, completely unaware of the thoughts flooding your brain.

and then he flips you over.

in one quick motion, Beomgyu has you pinned instead, his thick arm curling around your neck in a chokehold.

your brain short-circuits.

because—

this is exactly what you wanted.

and Beomgyu, still oblivious, leans down, his breath hot against your ear.

"what now, huh?" he murmurs, his voice dropping into a low, teasing tone. "you thought you could win? look at you now."

oh, fuck.

your entire body shudders. this is too much. his scent, his weight, the way his arm presses against your throat just right—

"god, this feels so good."

the words slip out before you can stop them.

beomgyu freezes.

and then—

"…huh?"

his grip loosens instantly, and he stumbles back like he’s been electrocuted. his face is burning red, eyes wide in pure, unfiltered panic.

"w-what do you mean—" he gulps. "w-what do you—w-what—h-huh—?"

you blink up at him, suddenly just as flustered.

"uhm—"

"n-no wait—like—" beomgyu waves his arms, looking so painfully distressed. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT FELT GOOD—?"

you gulp, forcing yourself to meet his panicked gaze.

and then, because you literally have no other choice, you blurt out, "i think i like you."

beomgyu stares.

he stares.

and then he glitches, mouth opening and closing, hands twitching by his sides, brain fully crashing. his eyes dart everywhere except at you, his entire face a shade of red so intense you’re afraid he might actually pass out.

"you-you like me? like—LIKE ME like me?"

you bite your lip, nodding shyly. "yeah."

his breath catches and he immediately looks away, running a shaky hand through his hair, looking like he’s about to combust.

"h-holy shit—" he mutters under his breath. "oh my god oh my god—"

then—

"WAIT—SO YOU—SO YOU LIKED THE CHOKEHOLD?"

you groan, covering your face. "BEOMGYU—"

he wheezes, hands on his knees. "OH MY GOD—"

you swear he giggles. like, actually giggles.

then he stops and his entire body shudders.

and he whispers, "holy shit, that was kinda hot."

you choke.

"BEOMGYU!"

"you’re a freak," he teases, grinning. "wanting me to choke you and shit—"

"OH MY GOD SHUT UP!"

but when he pulls you into a hug, still laughing, still red-faced and awkward and loser-ish in the best way, you can’t help but smile.

TAEHYUN

taehyun is a very serious tutor. he has strict rules—no distractions, no unnecessary conversations, and definitely no messing around. this is a learning environment, not a hangout session.

he prides himself on his focus, his ability to remain calm under any circumstance. he’s the type of guy who color-codes his notes, has a rigid study schedule, and unironically enjoys doing practice questions for fun. he does not—under any circumstances—get flustered over dumb things like romantic tension.

at least, that’s what he used to believe.

then you happened, and suddenly, his ability to not be a complete loser around you has disappeared entirely.

from the moment he agreed to tutor you in math, things have been an absolute disaster. you’re so unfair. you bat your eyelashes, you ask him to repeat things you already understand just to hear his voice, and worst of all, you stare at him. like he’s some kind of fascinating subject to study instead of the guy desperately trying to keep his composure while explaining differential equations. 

he thought it would be fine—after all, he’s taehyun, and taehyun doesn’t get distracted. but within one week, he realized he was in deep, deep trouble.

because you mess with him. constantly.

like today.

you're both seated at a table in the library, supposed to be going over trigonometric identities. taehyun has the patience of a saint (or so he tells himself), but after fifteen minutes of you not even pretending to be paying attention, he's starting to lose it.

because you're staring at him shamelessly, chin propped up on your palm, eyes locked onto him with a lazy smile playing on your lips.

he tries to ignore it. he really does. his eyes flick to the textbook, his pen tapping against the table in a controlled rhythm. but it’s like your gaze is physically burning into him, and the more he tries to focus, the harder it gets.

finally, he snaps.

"what?" he blurts, gripping his pen so tightly it might explode.

you blink, all innocent. "what do you mean?"

"you're staring at me."

"oh." your lips curl into a slow smirk. "i was just thinking."

taehyun immediately doesn’t like the sound of that.

"thinking about what?" he asks, voice strained.

"how pretty you are."

his pen drops to the table with a clatter.

"i—" he chokes on air, already feeling heat crawl up his neck. he forces himself to focus, grabbing his pen with a death grip like it’s some kind of life support. "th-that’s irrelevant. get back to the problem."

but you? oh, you're evil.

you lean in closer, resting your chin on your hand, eyes twinkling with mischief. "i mean it," you hum. "you’re so cute, taehyun. it’s distracting."

distracting?

oh, the irony.

because you’re calling him distracting while he’s actively trying not to combust on the spot.

"s-stop," he stammers, adjusting his glasses even though they don’t need adjusting. "i—i don’t see how this is relevant to trigonometry—"

"it’s not," you shrug. "but I think you should know how much I like looking at you."

his breathing stops.

and then, as if you haven’t already destroyed him enough, you reach forward and fiddle with the hem of his sleeve, fingers brushing against his wrist like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

taehyun physically malfunctions.

tis ears are burning, his pulse is racing, and for the first time in his entire life, he has no idea what to do.

and so? he chooses violence.

without a word, taehyun slams his textbook shut, grabs his bag, and bolts out of the library so fast that he nearly trips over his own feet.

"we’re done!" he yells over his shoulder, voice cracking. "see you next week!"

you lose it, dissolving into laughter as you watch him practically sprint out of the building, ears glowing red.

and somewhere, down the hallway, taehyun is muttering under his breath about how this is why he should’ve never agreed to tutor you.

oh, he is never living this down.

HUENINGKAI 

hueningkai has been a mess around you for as long as you can remember.

it’s kind of ridiculous, really. despite being handsome and built like a human teddy bear, he has zero game. like, none at all. he stutters when talking to pretty people (you), trips over his own feet at least twice a day, and would definitely combust if you so much as complimented him unexpectedly.

and the fact that he’s your best friend bahiyyih’s older brother just makes it all the more entertaining. every time you so much as acknowledge his existence, bahiyyih rolls her eyes like she’s watching a romcom in real-time.

it’s adorable, really.

which is why, when he hesitantly approaches you after lecture one day, eyes darting everywhere but at your face, you already know whatever he’s about to say is going to be good.

"c-can you help me shop for hiyyih’s birthday?" he stammers, gripping the straps of his backpack like his life depends on it. "i—i don’t really know what to get her, and you're, um, good at this stuff…"

you smile, amused. "of course, kai. let’s go."

fast forward an hour later, and you find yourself in a cosmetics store, browsing through endless rows of lip glosses.

you hold up two tubes, lips pursed in thought. "i can't decide between these two," you mumble, glancing at kai, who has been hovering behind you like a nervous puppy the entire time.

his eyes flicker to the glosses, then to you, then away, like he’s afraid of looking at you too long.

"uh, i mean—" he stammers, rubbing his neck. "they both look nice?"

you narrow your eyes. useless.

"i need an actual opinion," you huff before popping the cap off one of them. you apply a coat to your lips, then turn to him with a tilt of your head. "how does this one look?"

hueningkai’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again.

iI—it’s pretty," he says finally, voice cracking on the last syllable.

you suppress a giggle, then glance at the other gloss. "okay, but I need to compare. I can’t put this one on my lips because I already have the first shade on."

he blinks, confused. "oh. uh, so—"

"so I should put it on yours," you finish simply.

his face goes from pink to red in record time. his eyes are huge, lips parting slightly like he just had a stroke.

"w-wait—on me?!"

you arch a brow, feigning innocence. "yeah? so I can see the difference properly. otherwise, we’ll never know which one’s better."

his throat bobs. his fingers tighten around the straps of his shopping bag. "i—uh—"

he looks like he’s two seconds away from self-destructing, but then he nods—barely and stiffly presses his lips together.

you bite back a grin.

he really is a loser.

gently, you lift the applicator and lean in, holding his chin steady with your free hand. his skin burns under your fingertips, and you swear you can hear his breathing get shakier. his eyes squeeze shut, his shoulders tense, and his entire existence is one giant ball of nerves.

but the second the wand makes contact with his pouty lower lip, he starts fidgeting.

"kai, hold still," you laugh, reaching out to cup his face with one hand. his cheeks are burning, and his lips part in surprise as your fingers graze his skin. his entire body locks up, lips parting slightly as his breath hitches. his big, round eyes are glued to your face now, completely mesmerized as you lean in closer.

his lips are so pouty. plush, glossy, glistening under the store’s lights, and suddenly, it feels like your body is moving on its own. before you can stop yourself, your gaze flickers to his wide, dazed eyes—then down to his parted lips—

and you kiss him.

It’s soft at first—just a press of your lips against his. but the moment you start to pull away, he—to your utter shock—kisses you back.

slow, hesitant, but definitely kissing back.

his lips move against yours in a way that’s both nervous and eager—like he can’t believe this is happening but wants more anyway. his hand hovers near your wrist, as if he wants to hold you closer but is too shy to do it.

and that’s when it hits you.

you just kissed hueningkai. in public.

iou jolt back, eyes wide. "i’m so sorry—i-i didn’t mean—"

but kai? he just stared at you, lips still glossy, blinking like his brain is still catching up to reality. then, slowly—so, so shyly—he reaches up to rub the back of his neck, lips curling into the tiniest smile.

"i... liked that, actually," he mutters, barely above a whisper.

the air turns thick with tension, and you can’t tell who’s more flustered—him, with his red ears and adorably shy expression, or you, with your pulse hammering a mile a minute.

for a long moment, neither of you say anything.

and then, in a quiet, hesitant voice, hueningkai clears his throat and asks, "s-so, um… which gloss do you think looks better?"

you laugh, cheeks still warm. "honestly?" you glance at his lips. "i think i like this one better."

and just like that, his face explodes into color all over again.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

If you were to ask him, Soobin wouldn’t hesitate to call you his girlfriend. He spends his days counting down the time that has to pass before he sees you again. He dreams about what the family you build together one day might look like, how your daughter will have his eyes and your smile. He gets so caught up in the fantasy sometimes that he goes to jewelry stores just to browse through engagement rings that you’d like. He already bought two separate rings for you, keeping the little boxes tucked away in his nightstand until he’s finally ready to ask you.

He wants to sweep you off your feet and steal your heart from any other man. He hates it when you laugh at some other guy’s jokes, or if you even smile a little too brightly for someone else to see. It’s with a sense of shame that he swallows his jealousy down; he knows he shouldn’t be so upset when you still just see him as a friend. He also knows that he won’t speak up and stop you from introducing him as your friend—he’ll have to be content with his feelings being one-sided for now.

When he takes you back to your place, his eyes land on the vase of flowers you placed on your counter. Soobin notes that they’ve probably still got a few days of vibrancy left before he should buy you new ones. He stands with his hands held behind his back, still lingering by your door, waiting for you to tell him goodbye or ask him to stay.

His heart skips a beat when your hand lands on his shoulder. You have to tilt your head up when you're standing this close to him in order to look him in the eye, and something about that makes Soobin feel dizzy. He’s a gentleman, though, and he doesn’t let it cloud his mind too much. He has to remember that you’re like a fragile doll, and he can’t be such a wolf like all the other men are.

“Did you wanna stay with me tonight?” you ask, voice soft and sweet like it always is. His lips tilt up as he nods excitedly. He was hoping that you wouldn’t want him to leave.

He follows you into your bedroom, thanking you when you hand him some clothes to change into. He’s learned to leave some of his clothes at your place for nights like this. He heads to your bathroom so that you have enough privacy when you change out of your dress, always trying to be respectful and considerate of you.

He tries not to think too much about you slipping your dress off, how the material would pool at your feet and leave you in some cute lingerie set. He gulps as he takes off his jeans, looking up at the ceiling so he doesn’t imagine you kneeling on the floor in front of him. He changes into his sweatpants as quickly as he can, then throws on his shirt and shakes away the images haunting his brain. How dare he think such impure things of you? You’re so pretty and delicate, and he’s awful and disgusting to want to defile you.

He stares at himself in the mirror, standing in place for an extra minute just in case you need more time to get fully dressed. He wouldn’t want to walk in on you changing—the thought sends a shiver down his spine. You’d surely think he was a creep if you saw the things he thinks of.

When he finally comes back to your room, you’re already laying in bed, tucked comfortably underneath your blanket. He gets in bed beside you, waiting for you to cozy up to him. He looks at you expectantly, which makes you grin and throw yourself into his side. He laughs as you do so, letting his hand run through your hair.

You hum and lean into his chest. He prays you don’t feel how hard his heart is beating. He catches a glimpse of your hand, and his eyes linger on your ring finger. He wants so badly to fill the empty space there.

“Are you tired?” you ask him. He can hear the sleepiness in your voice. Like everything you do, that too makes him swoon.

“I’m not,” he says, keeping his voice quiet so as to not disturb your peace.

“Well I’m going to sleep,” you announce with a yawn. Soobin continues running his hand through your hair and down your back at a slow, steady pace, repeating the action to help lull you to sleep. He places the tiniest peck on the crown of your head and wishes you a good night.

Nothing makes Soobin happier than this. He has you all to himself, a moment that no one else gets to see or know about. It feels so domestic, like he’s already living in that faraway dream where you’re his wife and you love him dearly.

You stir in your sleep and let out a little hum. Soobin tries to be still and not wake you, but he also tries to not let your noises reach his cock. You emit another tiny moan, and he takes a deep breath to keep it from affecting him. He’s mentally scolding himself for being such a pervert, for being so turned on by things you have no clue you’re doing.

When you start moving around more, Soobin considers putting some space between you. You’re a light sleeper though, and he wouldn’t want to wake you up. That’s the only reason. Otherwise, he’s sure he would have nudged your leg off of him and given you some room. He’s a gentleman, and you’re a delicate flower.

Soobin gasps when he feels your hips cant against him. His face is burning, and he registers with an immense amount of shame that he’s getting hard now. Should he wake you up? Should he at least push your leg down a little? There’s a scarily small amount of space between his bulge and your thigh.

If only he were asleep. He wouldn’t be tortured by your jolting legs or your sleepy sounds of pleasure. You must be having a wet dream. God, Soobin might bust in his sweatpants right now. He needs some air, but he can’t get up.

He shouldn’t help you, right? Even if it would end the suffering for both of you… He can’t help but indulge in the idea a little. He imagines rolling over so he’s hovering above you, waking you up with a hundred kisses against your face and neck. You’d smile up at him so groggily when your eyes finally flutter open, wondering what your sweet best friend is doing.

Oh god, no, that’s perverted; Soobin can’t be thinking these kinds of things. He’s so hard he can’t stand it, and your soft moans leaving your lips aren’t helping him. He doesn’t want to embarrass you, but he can’t not get up now, at least to run to the bathroom and take care of his problem.

As soon as he sits up, he can tell that you’re stirring awake. His eyes widen, looking down at his side to see your sleepy eyes looking up at him. You’re so confused. It makes Soobin’s dick throb in his pants. Ugh. He hides his face in his hands.

“Soobin…” you mutter out, hand clutching onto his arm to drag him back down beside you. He gives in easily—he always does. He gulps when he looks at you, faces so close. You’re still tired, he can tell by your slow blinks. You’ll be falling asleep again fast.

You whine and tuck your face into his shoulder. Soobin shuts his eyes tight and uses all his might to not think with his dick.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, trying to keep his voice steady.

You don’t respond through your sleepy haze. He notes how hard you’re breathing. His head spins, wondering if you’re still horny. He wants nothing more than to help you out, so much that it fogs his mind and makes it hard to think straight.

Your thighs press together, and that’s when Soobin feels himself start to lose control. This is bad—he can’t do this to you. He’d be so sweet, though, he knows this. He’d touch you so gently and make sure you’re satisfied. He’d pull every noise he could out of you, cherishing each and every little twitch of your body. He needs you tremendously.

“A-are you…” Soobin starts, but can’t bring himself to finish the sentence. He’s already shaking so much from his self-restraint, you must be able to feel it.

Your leg brushes against his erection then, and the world comes to a standstill. Soobin doesn’t even breathe. He’s beyond mortified. You must think he’s a filthy piece of shit, he should’ve just taken himself to the bathroom, you probably hate him now.

“I’m sorry,” he’s rushing to say, sitting up again so he doesn’t have to poison you with his presence. “I’m so sorry, I promise I wasn’t”—

“Please touch me,” you say, cutting him off. Your eyes are so big and sparkly when you look up at him. His mouth is dropped open, not knowing if this is real or not.

“What?” he asks in a whisper, making sure he heard you right. If you said what he thinks you did, he might spill his load on the spot.

You bring a hand between your thighs, pathetically rutting against it. Soobin weakens at the sight, meeting your eyes and hoping to see some sort of desperation in them.

“Please, I need you. Woke up so wet,” you whine. Soobin moves as fast as he can between your legs. Every hope he had of taking things slow is thrown out the window—he’s far too needy to take his time with you. He’ll make sure to do it some other day.

“I’ll take care of you, don’t worry, I’m right here,” he rambles as he rids you of your shorts and panties. He holds your legs open, staring at your leaky pussy with awe. He feels himself short-circuiting. Is he dreaming? Is this moment finally happening? He has to make the most of this. He needs to make this perfect for you.

He kisses your hip bone then licks a stripe up your cunt, moaning as soon as his tongue meets you. He almost feels like he could cry. He’s waited so long, so patiently. You’ve finally broken, and you only want him to piece you back together. His cock is straining against his boxers, leaking profusely at the tip, but he ignores it completely to focus on you.

His tongue presses firm licks against your clit, then swipes quickly against it to get your legs trembling. He thinks it’s so cute how much you’re shaking already. You needed him to give you relief, he tells himself as he presses his face deeper into your cunt, so he has to make sure he delivers. Your cries motivate him to keep going, it has him obsessing over how much pleasure he can provide you.

His tongue moves down to your fluttering entrance, and his stomach clenches when he realizes how empty you must feel. His poor baby, he’ll help you out. He stuffs his tongue inside you, making sure his nose stays pressed against your clit. He moans at your taste and the way you tighten around his tongue. He licks and laps at you as much as he can, determined to get his fill of your arousal.

Soobin can’t help it when he starts fucking the mattress, hips moving on their own accord. Your own hips are grinding down on his face now, and he knows now what true desperation feels like. No other feeling has he experienced so strongly as the need to have you cumming on his tongue. You flood all of his thoughts and his senses, he’s completely devoted to getting you off and making you happy.

“Soobin! Hnng—I’m..!” You don’t have to finish your sentence, Soobin knows. He feels you tightening over his muscle, which he continues to fuck into your hole with as much vigor as he possesses. He pants against your cunt, so ready for you to fall over the edge, going insane to know what it feels like to have you fall apart because of him.

You cum with a whine, body twitching all over as your orgasm hits you. This is the moment Soobin has waited for, and it’s beyond anything he could have imagined. He’s spilling in his sweatpants the moment your thighs close around his head. His hips stutter against the mattress as his seed bursts out of him. This is the best moment of his life.

He commits it all to memory: your breathy, whiny noises and the shake in your legs. The way your breath hitches and how your walls feel clamping down on his tongue. You’re so tight, he can’t imagine how he’ll ever fit his cock inside you. He’ll never be the same after this.

Your hand tugs at his hair to pull him away, and he obliges. He looks at how wet you are now, a mixture of his saliva and your arousal pooling at your center and down your thighs. His eyes almost roll back, he can’t believe you finally let him take care of you like this. He’ll touch himself for the rest of his life remembering this moment.

Your smile is just as gorgeous and heart-stopping as it always has been when you pull him up to you. He collapses on top of you as he regains his breath. He presses kisses against your collarbones, wanting to make sure you feel cared for.

“Thank you, Soobin,” you say, wrapping your arms around him. He feels like he should be the one thanking you. You’re amazing.

“Please be my girlfriend,” he blurts out before he can even think of stopping himself. He can’t imagine not being able to do this with you again. He’s not sure what even gave you the courage to ask him to do this, but he needs you to keep letting him have you.

You giggle, and it nearly makes Soobin’s heart explode. “I was wondering when you were gonna ask me that,” you say, holding his face up so he’s looking you in the eye.

Soobin’s dumbfounded. He feels everything at once. He’s ecstatic that you didn’t reject him. He’s dizzy from the love burning his body up. He’s regretful that he didn’t ask you sooner.

“I’m in love with you.” He decides that if it’s time for him to get everything off his chest, he might as well say that part too. You press a quick kiss to his lips, and he has to keep himself from passing out.

“I love you too,” you say, smiling so dreamily and brushing his hair back.

he waits on his bed instead, still trying to convince himself he’s tougher than he is. he feels the way he jitters though—he’s not fooling himself. his body reacts before his brain does when he hears his apartment door open. he tenses and swipes his phone into his hands, so when you open the door he doesn’t look like he’s been sitting here waiting.

his eyes dart to you the second you’re entering his room. he’s never seen you in a skirt this short before. are you doing this on purpose? did you want to make him snap? your perfume fills the air, that sweet and warm fragrance that suddenly has beomgyu feeling like some dog.

“hi,” you say, closing the door behind you and standing politely by his bed. beomgyu shuts his phone off to give you his full attention—you already had it anyway, but he just wanted to look cool. he smiles at you and makes room for you on the bed, patting the space next to him.

“what’s up?” his eyes linger on your skirt as you situate yourself on the bed. the expanse of your thighs start looking like uncharted territory for him to mark up. his gaze returns to your face once he realizes how pervy he must look, not wanting to look like some freak.

“not much,” you answer. you look away from him, and he thinks maybe he was staring too hard.

“no? what brings you here then?” he can’t hide his grin, he just thinks it’s so cute when you try to hide your motives. you both know why you’re here.

you look at him with a bit of surprise when his hand falls on your thigh. it’s at a respectable distance from your core—it’s really not even close enough to seem raunchy—but it’s still enough to have you looking all scandalized. beomgyu bites his tongue to hold back a laugh; he doesn’t want to be mean and embarrass you.

“i wanted some advice,” you say, shifting a bit in place.

beomgyu raises a brow. “advice?” you nod. “on what?” he asks.

you hesitate for a second. “taehyun,” you answer. beomgyu has to fight the immature instinct to roll his eyes. he takes his hand off your thigh, and he tells himself that it’s definitely not because he’s bitter.

“okay. what about him?” it’s not jealousy burning in the pit of his stomach. he doesn't care that you’re thinking of taehyun when you’re sitting right next to him. he hopes taehyun’s the best fucking thing in your life, that he’ll want you even half as much as beomgyu does.

so no, it’s not jealousy. beomgyu’s perfectly content with only getting secret, stolen moments with you, while taehyun gets to flaunt you on his arm like some accessory anywhere he wants.

“i was wondering, how do you give a blowjob?” your question cuts through him like a knife. you want to give taehyun a blowjob?!

he hates how his dick strains in his pants when you say that. he’s been hard before you even got here. he spent his nights fisting his cock, milking himself dry thinking about you, and here you are doing all this for some other guy.

your eyes hold all the brightness they always do, and it works to at least melt him enough to get over himself. he gives you a smile and leans in to press a quick kiss to your lips. “i’ll show you. get on the floor for me, okay?” he brushes your hair back with a considerate hand, then gives you one more lingering kiss.

watching you kneel before him makes beomgyu feel feral. he has to stop himself from whipping out his cock now and using your pretty mouth like some toy. he stands in front of you, looking down at you with a grin. he pats your head, thinking that you look so adorable when you look up at him like this.

he thinks he could cum just from this—you kneeling in front of him, listening to him so well—it makes him ache. you’re so eager, so willing, so trusting. he wonders if you’d still trust him if you knew all the things he wants to do with you. would you still let him teach you everything if you knew he wanted to take you in front of taehyun, make him listen to you moan out beomgyu’s name? or how he wants to steal your panties and shoot load after load into them, using them until he’s spent and the lacy material is useless?

your fingers linger at the hem of his sweatpants, blinking up at him for permission. he’s not sure why it makes his heart skip a beat—he’s kind of more focused on the way it makes his cock jump.

“you can take them off,” he says, watching as you slide his sweatpants down. he tries not to get too heady or let some power rush get to him, but it’s a hard task when you look so perfectly usable right now. he hisses when you lay your hand over his erection, still confined by his boxers. he rakes his fingers through your hair and smiles down at you.

you peel his boxers off slowly, and beomgyu might’ve thought you were teasing him if he didn’t know you’re a virgin. he wonders if you’re nervous. you’ve never sucked a dick before, so he knows not to expect you to be a pro. he’s honored enough to be the one who gets to teach you this.

you bring a hand to his cock when it springs free, just holding it and staring at it for some time. you take a deep breath like you’re stressed and preparing yourself.

“you okay?” beomgyu asks, searching your eyes for any discomfort. you send him a small smile.

“sorry, i’m still getting ready,” you say. you jerk him a little, letting your thumb spread the precum at his tip. it makes him groan and throw his head back. where the hell did you learn that?

“take your time, we’ll go at your pace,” beomgyu says, keeping his voice as still as he can, focusing hard to not stutter or trip over his words. you continue to slowly stroke him, and it’s taking all of beomgyu’s self control to not push his hips forward and fuck your fist as he pleases.

your lips are in a pout now, and beomgyu suppresses the urge to coo at you. “what’s wrong?” he asks, looking down at you with pitiful eyes. you look like you’re deep in contemplation.

“i don’t know if it will fit,” you say as you stare at his cock. it kills beomgyu how you don’t know what your words do to him, unless you register the way his dick twitches in your hand.

“just take what you can,” he says, running a hand down your face and brushing your cheek with his thumb. he really, really wants to feel your mouth around him, but he’ll let you do that when you’re ready. he reminds himself over and over again to not go too far, no matter how bad he wants to use you like his own little doll.

you shift closer to him, face right by his tip now, and it makes beomgyu bite his lip in anticipation. he nearly feels his legs shaking. fuck, he’s been thinking about this all week, he needed this for so long.

“y-you can start with just licking, if you want,” beomgyu offers. your tongue meets his tip the next second, swirling around it and making him whine. holy shit. he bites his tongue until he almost tastes blood. that was so embarrassing. he needs to keep his cool.

you hold up his dick by the base to lick a stripe down his shaft, looking up at him for approval. god, beomgyu wishes he was sitting down. he feels weak in the knees.

“doing so good, keep going,” beomgyu praises, stomach clenched tight at the pleasure. he won’t be able to last if you put your mouth around him. he almost hopes you save that for another day, when he actually has enough willpower to not cum immediately from it.

you run your tongue back up to his tip, pressing kitten licks to his slit. his fist tightens in your hair, needing to grip onto something and keep his legs from giving in. not even biting his lip can hold back his moans when you just barely wrap your lips around his tip, sucking experimentally.

“t-take it slow, baby,” he says, moreso for his sake than yours. he’ll be blowing his load in an embarrassingly short amount of time if you keep this up. he swears he’s not a minute man usually, he doesn’t know why he keeps making himself look like one with you.

you go back to licking his cock, looking so delicious that beomgyu’s having trouble keeping his eyes on you without his balls tightening. he wonders if your panties are slick with your arousal, if they’re sticking to your folds, if he’d see a nice wet outline your pussy if he just pushed your skirt a little higher. he’s feeling dizzy at the thought.

you make matters worse when your mouth envelops his cock again, going down a little further this time. “fuck!” he moans out, fist returning to your hair. he’s almost shaking from how hard he’s holding back. you pull back after a few seconds to catch your breath, granting him enough of a reprieve to collect himself.

you continue to take him just a little further each time, but never quite getting that far. he doesn’t even want to give you advice, too scared of cumming and having this all be over with. he’ll let you figure it out; you seem really receptive to what makes him moan and shake anyway.

when you pull off again, a string of saliva connects his tip to your lips. it’s so crude and dirty—he burns the image into his mind to use for later. your hand works over his cock, spreading your saliva down to the base so it’s all slick.

“how is it?” you ask, seeking his approval yet again. something about it makes beomgyu feel insane.

“perfect,” he says breathlessly, appreciating the winning smile that spreads across your face at that. you place a cute little kiss at his slit, making beomgyu swoon.

you return your lips around him, getting almost halfway down now. your mouth is so wet and warm around him, and he thinks you might’ve been made for him. you’re learning so well, doing everything just right. you’re so good—too good to let go, too good to let run back to taehyun.

you moan around his cock, the vibrations sending a shiver down beomgyu’s spine. his brain stops working completely when he sees your hand move between your legs, rubbing your fingers against your clothed pussy for some relief. his grip on your hair tightens, and his hips jolt forward to thrust further into your mouth. he assesses you to make sure you’re okay before he keeps going, letting himself fuck into your welcoming little mouth. he can be selfish this one time.

“shit—suck a little harder, baby,” he says, panting as he continues fucking into you. the extra suction almost makes his knees buckle. watching your fingers circle desperately and clumsily against your clit is making him spiral; he thinks about pulling you up and showing you how it’s done. your pussy must be aching so bad for him.

your tongue swirls against his tip, and he cums before he can stop himself. his hips buck further into your mouth as he lets out a moan, cock twitching as he feels himself hit the back of your throat. he knows he should pull back and let you breathe, but he’s out of his mind and barely thinking straight.

“fuck, take it, god, you’re so good,” he rambles as he soothes his hand through your hair. you look up at him with watery eyes, and he can’t believe how good you’re being for him. for being a virgin, you really do make for a pretty little slut.

once he’s emptied, he pulls out, catching his breath and staring at your fucked out face. you remove your hands from between your thighs, suddenly looking all shy.

“why’d you stop?” he asks, urging your thighs back open with his foot. he has enough decency to not drop to the floor and stare at the junction of your thighs, even if that’s all he wants to do right now.

“i—you finished,” you explain, looking up at him with a confused pout. beomgyu thinks he might be feral. you have him acting like a dog.

he pulls you up and sits you on the bed, kneeling in front of you on the floor. adrenaline rushes through his veins, unable to take it anymore. he really needs to see your cunt.

“will you let me touch you this time? please?” beomgyu finds out today that he’s a begging man—something he previously considered himself above being. you look at him with wide eyes that scan him like he’s lost his mind.

his head rests on your thigh, eyes flitting to your skirt to see if he can see beneath it, to no avail. he looks at you with all the hope and urgency he could possibly convey, trying to make you see how serious this is for him.

“can you at least touch yourself for me?” he asks. you gasp, scandalized at his words, and he can’t act like he cares how perverted he’s being. he’ll do anything for just a peek. his hands find your thighs, ready to pry them open whenever you let him.

“why?” you ask. beomgyu doesn’t have a good reason. this isn’t to teach you anything. he’s just being selfish.

“cause i need it,” he answers. you bring a hesitant hand back to your center. “yes, thank you,” beomgyu says, watching with diligent eyes as he spreads your legs open to invite your hand in. he could almost cry when he sees your ruined panties. they’re soaked through, practically useless now. he wants to lean forward and run his tongue over it.

“like this..?” your voice is so shaky, hand so uncertain as it rubs down your slit. beomgyu can’t rip his gaze from your cunt, eyes blown out with lust as they follow your fingers through your folds.

“a little harder,” he instructs, unblinking as he watches you obey. you press down with more force, and beomgyu feels it when your thighs start to tremble. he thinks about pushing your panties aside and dipping his finger in knuckle deep. you must be wet enough to accommodate that easily. he’d do everything right, touch you just like you want.

you gasp and run your fingers on your clit, and beomgyu can’t help it when his hands start inching up your thighs. he wants more, he needs to be the reason why you cum. he’s getting greedy, squeezing your thighs and kissing your legs. it’s all he can do to keep himself from pushing your hand away and showing you how it’s done.

“can’t i do this for you?” he asks, inching his hand up even further. his fingertip grazes the hem of your panties, tracing it lightly. he thinks he’s being amazingly patient for how desperate he is.

you bring a fingertip to tease your clothed entrance, palm resting on your clit. beomgyu whines at the sight. you’re going to cum before he even gets his hands on you. how is this fair?!

you don’t even answer him, you’re too far off in your own world, pleasuring your virgin pussy like he’s not even here. he licks your thighs, kisses a trail that gets dangerously close to your cunt, holds your legs open with a grip that’s a little too forceful, but none of it gets your attention.

he doesn’t want to be bitter. he doesn’t want to be mad. the words just leave him before he can stop himself. “i bet you let taehyun touch you.”

your eyes finally open, and a part of him is glad to have your attention back. “i don’t,” you answer. his words only seemed to deter you for a second, because you fall back into your rhythm before beomgyu could do anything with the three seconds of attention you spared him.

he nips your thigh, licks up and up and up until he can smell your arousal, nose practically touching your busy hand. he can tell immediately when you cum—your thighs fight against his grip, moans roll off your tongue shamelessly, your hips roll up into your hand.

this is so stupid. he would’ve had your thighs shaking way more, would’ve had you spewing out nonsense as he fucked you into the best orgasm of your life. you should have tears rolling down your cheeks. you should be worn out and exhausted. you shouldn’t be able to just get up and go like it’s nothing. beomgyu watches with a pout as you readjust yourself in the mirror.

“thanks again, gyu,” you say when you turn back to him with a smile. he’s sitting on the bed now, and you press a kiss to his cheek. he wishes it didn’t make his heart flutter. he still wants to be mad at you.

“when are you coming over again?” he asks as he grabs your hand.

“why?” you giggle.

“there’s more i want to show you.” he’ll think of whatever excuse he can. he just needs more of you.

“like what?”

shit. how does he word this without making it about him? “like what to do when a guy goes down on you.”

you laugh at his words, then look down to check your phone. “maybe next time,” you say. “i’ll see you, gyu.” you’re gone before he can stop you.

he waits on his bed instead, still trying to convince himself he’s tougher than he is. he feels the way he jitters though—he’s not fooling himself. his body reacts before his brain does when he hears his apartment door open. he tenses and swipes his phone into his hands, so when you open the door he doesn’t look like he’s been sitting here waiting.

his eyes dart to you the second you’re entering his room. he’s never seen you in a skirt this short before. are you doing this on purpose? did you want to make him snap? your perfume fills the air, that sweet and warm fragrance that suddenly has beomgyu feeling like some dog.

“hi,” you say, closing the door behind you and standing politely by his bed. beomgyu shuts his phone off to give you his full attention—you already had it anyway, but he just wanted to look cool. he smiles at you and makes room for you on the bed, patting the space next to him.

“what’s up?” his eyes linger on your skirt as you situate yourself on the bed. the expanse of your thighs start looking like uncharted territory for him to mark up. his gaze returns to your face once he realizes how pervy he must look, not wanting to look like some freak.

“not much,” you answer. you look away from him, and he thinks maybe he was staring too hard.

“no? what brings you here then?” he can’t hide his grin, he just thinks it’s so cute when you try to hide your motives. you both know why you’re here.

you look at him with a bit of surprise when his hand falls on your thigh. it’s at a respectable distance from your core—it’s really not even close enough to seem raunchy—but it’s still enough to have you looking all scandalized. beomgyu bites his tongue to hold back a laugh; he doesn’t want to be mean and embarrass you.

“i wanted some advice,” you say, shifting a bit in place.

beomgyu raises a brow. “advice?” you nod. “on what?” he asks.

you hesitate for a second. “taehyun,” you answer. beomgyu has to fight the immature instinct to roll his eyes. he takes his hand off your thigh, and he tells himself that it’s definitely not because he’s bitter.

“okay. what about him?” it’s not jealousy burning in the pit of his stomach. he doesn't care that you’re thinking of taehyun when you’re sitting right next to him. he hopes taehyun’s the best fucking thing in your life, that he’ll want you even half as much as beomgyu does.

so no, it’s not jealousy. beomgyu’s perfectly content with only getting secret, stolen moments with you, while taehyun gets to flaunt you on his arm like some accessory anywhere he wants.

“i was wondering, how do you give a blowjob?” your question cuts through him like a knife. you want to give taehyun a blowjob?!

he hates how his dick strains in his pants when you say that. he’s been hard before you even got here. he spent his nights fisting his cock, milking himself dry thinking about you, and here you are doing all this for some other guy.

your eyes hold all the brightness they always do, and it works to at least melt him enough to get over himself. he gives you a smile and leans in to press a quick kiss to your lips. “i’ll show you. get on the floor for me, okay?” he brushes your hair back with a considerate hand, then gives you one more lingering kiss.

watching you kneel before him makes beomgyu feel feral. he has to stop himself from whipping out his cock now and using your pretty mouth like some toy. he stands in front of you, looking down at you with a grin. he pats your head, thinking that you look so adorable when you look up at him like this.

he thinks he could cum just from this—you kneeling in front of him, listening to him so well—it makes him ache. you’re so eager, so willing, so trusting. he wonders if you’d still trust him if you knew all the things he wants to do with you. would you still let him teach you everything if you knew he wanted to take you in front of taehyun, make him listen to you moan out beomgyu’s name? or how he wants to steal your panties and shoot load after load into them, using them until he’s spent and the lacy material is useless?

your fingers linger at the hem of his sweatpants, blinking up at him for permission. he’s not sure why it makes his heart skip a beat—he’s kind of more focused on the way it makes his cock jump.

“you can take them off,” he says, watching as you slide his sweatpants down. he tries not to get too heady or let some power rush get to him, but it’s a hard task when you look so perfectly usable right now. he hisses when you lay your hand over his erection, still confined by his boxers. he rakes his fingers through your hair and smiles down at you.

you peel his boxers off slowly, and beomgyu might’ve thought you were teasing him if he didn’t know you’re a virgin. he wonders if you’re nervous. you’ve never sucked a dick before, so he knows not to expect you to be a pro. he’s honored enough to be the one who gets to teach you this.

you bring a hand to his cock when it springs free, just holding it and staring at it for some time. you take a deep breath like you’re stressed and preparing yourself.

“you okay?” beomgyu asks, searching your eyes for any discomfort. you send him a small smile.

“sorry, i’m still getting ready,” you say. you jerk him a little, letting your thumb spread the precum at his tip. it makes him groan and throw his head back. where the hell did you learn that?

“take your time, we’ll go at your pace,” beomgyu says, keeping his voice as still as he can, focusing hard to not stutter or trip over his words. you continue to slowly stroke him, and it’s taking all of beomgyu’s self control to not push his hips forward and fuck your fist as he pleases.

your lips are in a pout now, and beomgyu suppresses the urge to coo at you. “what’s wrong?” he asks, looking down at you with pitiful eyes. you look like you’re deep in contemplation.

“i don’t know if it will fit,” you say as you stare at his cock. it kills beomgyu how you don’t know what your words do to him, unless you register the way his dick twitches in your hand.

“just take what you can,” he says, running a hand down your face and brushing your cheek with his thumb. he really, really wants to feel your mouth around him, but he’ll let you do that when you’re ready. he reminds himself over and over again to not go too far, no matter how bad he wants to use you like his own little doll.

you shift closer to him, face right by his tip now, and it makes beomgyu bite his lip in anticipation. he nearly feels his legs shaking. fuck, he’s been thinking about this all week, he needed this for so long.

“y-you can start with just licking, if you want,” beomgyu offers. your tongue meets his tip the next second, swirling around it and making him whine. holy shit. he bites his tongue until he almost tastes blood. that was so embarrassing. he needs to keep his cool.

you hold up his dick by the base to lick a stripe down his shaft, looking up at him for approval. god, beomgyu wishes he was sitting down. he feels weak in the knees.

“doing so good, keep going,” beomgyu praises, stomach clenched tight at the pleasure. he won’t be able to last if you put your mouth around him. he almost hopes you save that for another day, when he actually has enough willpower to not cum immediately from it.

you run your tongue back up to his tip, pressing kitten licks to his slit. his fist tightens in your hair, needing to grip onto something and keep his legs from giving in. not even biting his lip can hold back his moans when you just barely wrap your lips around his tip, sucking experimentally.

“t-take it slow, baby,” he says, moreso for his sake than yours. he’ll be blowing his load in an embarrassingly short amount of time if you keep this up. he swears he’s not a minute man usually, he doesn’t know why he keeps making himself look like one with you.

you go back to licking his cock, looking so delicious that beomgyu’s having trouble keeping his eyes on you without his balls tightening. he wonders if your panties are slick with your arousal, if they’re sticking to your folds, if he’d see a nice wet outline your pussy if he just pushed your skirt a little higher. he’s feeling dizzy at the thought.

you make matters worse when your mouth envelops his cock again, going down a little further this time. “fuck!” he moans out, fist returning to your hair. he’s almost shaking from how hard he’s holding back. you pull back after a few seconds to catch your breath, granting him enough of a reprieve to collect himself.

you continue to take him just a little further each time, but never quite getting that far. he doesn’t even want to give you advice, too scared of cumming and having this all be over with. he’ll let you figure it out; you seem really receptive to what makes him moan and shake anyway.

when you pull off again, a string of saliva connects his tip to your lips. it’s so crude and dirty—he burns the image into his mind to use for later. your hand works over his cock, spreading your saliva down to the base so it’s all slick.

“how is it?” you ask, seeking his approval yet again. something about it makes beomgyu feel insane.

“perfect,” he says breathlessly, appreciating the winning smile that spreads across your face at that. you place a cute little kiss at his slit, making beomgyu swoon.

you return your lips around him, getting almost halfway down now. your mouth is so wet and warm around him, and he thinks you might’ve been made for him. you’re learning so well, doing everything just right. you’re so good—too good to let go, too good to let run back to taehyun.

you moan around his cock, the vibrations sending a shiver down beomgyu’s spine. his brain stops working completely when he sees your hand move between your legs, rubbing your fingers against your clothed pussy for some relief. his grip on your hair tightens, and his hips jolt forward to thrust further into your mouth. he assesses you to make sure you’re okay before he keeps going, letting himself fuck into your welcoming little mouth. he can be selfish this one time.

“shit—suck a little harder, baby,” he says, panting as he continues fucking into you. the extra suction almost makes his knees buckle. watching your fingers circle desperately and clumsily against your clit is making him spiral; he thinks about pulling you up and showing you how it’s done. your pussy must be aching so bad for him.

your tongue swirls against his tip, and he cums before he can stop himself. his hips buck further into your mouth as he lets out a moan, cock twitching as he feels himself hit the back of your throat. he knows he should pull back and let you breathe, but he’s out of his mind and barely thinking straight.

“fuck, take it, god, you’re so good,” he rambles as he soothes his hand through your hair. you look up at him with watery eyes, and he can’t believe how good you’re being for him. for being a virgin, you really do make for a pretty little slut.

once he’s emptied, he pulls out, catching his breath and staring at your fucked out face. you remove your hands from between your thighs, suddenly looking all shy.

“why’d you stop?” he asks, urging your thighs back open with his foot. he has enough decency to not drop to the floor and stare at the junction of your thighs, even if that’s all he wants to do right now.

“i—you finished,” you explain, looking up at him with a confused pout. beomgyu thinks he might be feral. you have him acting like a dog.

he pulls you up and sits you on the bed, kneeling in front of you on the floor. adrenaline rushes through his veins, unable to take it anymore. he really needs to see your cunt.

“will you let me touch you this time? please?” beomgyu finds out today that he’s a begging man—something he previously considered himself above being. you look at him with wide eyes that scan him like he’s lost his mind.

his head rests on your thigh, eyes flitting to your skirt to see if he can see beneath it, to no avail. he looks at you with all the hope and urgency he could possibly convey, trying to make you see how serious this is for him.

“can you at least touch yourself for me?” he asks. you gasp, scandalized at his words, and he can’t act like he cares how perverted he’s being. he’ll do anything for just a peek. his hands find your thighs, ready to pry them open whenever you let him.

“why?” you ask. beomgyu doesn’t have a good reason. this isn’t to teach you anything. he’s just being selfish.

“cause i need it,” he answers. you bring a hesitant hand back to your center. “yes, thank you,” beomgyu says, watching with diligent eyes as he spreads your legs open to invite your hand in. he could almost cry when he sees your ruined panties. they’re soaked through, practically useless now. he wants to lean forward and run his tongue over it.

“like this..?” your voice is so shaky, hand so uncertain as it rubs down your slit. beomgyu can’t rip his gaze from your cunt, eyes blown out with lust as they follow your fingers through your folds.

“a little harder,” he instructs, unblinking as he watches you obey. you press down with more force, and beomgyu feels it when your thighs start to tremble. he thinks about pushing your panties aside and dipping his finger in knuckle deep. you must be wet enough to accommodate that easily. he’d do everything right, touch you just like you want.

you gasp and run your fingers on your clit, and beomgyu can’t help it when his hands start inching up your thighs. he wants more, he needs to be the reason why you cum. he’s getting greedy, squeezing your thighs and kissing your legs. it’s all he can do to keep himself from pushing your hand away and showing you how it’s done.

“can’t i do this for you?” he asks, inching his hand up even further. his fingertip grazes the hem of your panties, tracing it lightly. he thinks he’s being amazingly patient for how desperate he is.

you bring a fingertip to tease your clothed entrance, palm resting on your clit. beomgyu whines at the sight. you’re going to cum before he even gets his hands on you. how is this fair?!

you don’t even answer him, you’re too far off in your own world, pleasuring your virgin pussy like he’s not even here. he licks your thighs, kisses a trail that gets dangerously close to your cunt, holds your legs open with a grip that’s a little too forceful, but none of it gets your attention.

he doesn’t want to be bitter. he doesn’t want to be mad. the words just leave him before he can stop himself. “i bet you let taehyun touch you.”

your eyes finally open, and a part of him is glad to have your attention back. “i don’t,” you answer. his words only seemed to deter you for a second, because you fall back into your rhythm before beomgyu could do anything with the three seconds of attention you spared him.

he nips your thigh, licks up and up and up until he can smell your arousal, nose practically touching your busy hand. he can tell immediately when you cum—your thighs fight against his grip, moans roll off your tongue shamelessly, your hips roll up into your hand.

this is so stupid. he would’ve had your thighs shaking way more, would’ve had you spewing out nonsense as he fucked you into the best orgasm of your life. you should have tears rolling down your cheeks. you should be worn out and exhausted. you shouldn’t be able to just get up and go like it’s nothing. beomgyu watches with a pout as you readjust yourself in the mirror.

“thanks again, gyu,” you say when you turn back to him with a smile. he’s sitting on the bed now, and you press a kiss to his cheek. he wishes it didn’t make his heart flutter. he still wants to be mad at you.

“when are you coming over again?” he asks as he grabs your hand.

“why?” you giggle.

“there’s more i want to show you.” he’ll think of whatever excuse he can. he just needs more of you.

“like what?”

shit. how does he word this without making it about him? “like what to do when a guy goes down on you.”

you laugh at his words, then look down to check your phone. “maybe next time,” you say. “i’ll see you, gyu.” you’re gone before he can stop you.