𝒹ove

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↝ phone sex!

mmmm phone sex so so good. being away from him sucks but thank god for technology. it's not as good as the real thing but it's all you have sometimes.

you're both equally needy, desperate to hear each other that you don't even bother to be subtle about why you're calling. maybe you're both already touching yourselves when you pick up the phone. god imagining riwoo's breathy voice saying "please let me hear you" omg.

there isn't a lot of talking besides that, really. just moaning and heavy breathing along with the sounds of you two doing absolutely anything to get off. you wish he was with you, to touch you the way only he can. he feels the same, closing his eyes and trying to picture how you'd tease him the way you like to do. if you get close before he does, he'll ask you to hold it and wait for him so you can cum together.

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↝ sensory play!

okay. walk with me. i have seen this so clearly in my mind's eye.

riwoo loves sensory play. but he likes to give and receive equally. if you want to tie him up one night, he lets you. he's happy to let you have your fun and be at your mercy, squirming beneath you and begging for you while looking all pretty. next time though? he gets to blindfold you. he needs you to understand just how good it feels to give up control, not knowing what he's going to do or where he'll touch you next. he loves how much you flinch and jump at every touch, the loss of one of your senses heightening all the others.

it's a personal favorite of his, i like to think, because it gives you both a chance to be the one in control. personally i'm inclined to the switch riwoo agenda lately, so i think he likes taking turns. he's just so sweet no matter what and wants you both to have a good time.

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↝ perv!riwoo!

i wouldn't be me if i didn't talk about perverts... and perv riwoo is my absolute favorite duh.

absolute loser nerd complete virgin riwoo who spends all his time gaming with his other loser friends. addicted to porn and has probably pavloved himself to get hard at just about anything. i see him being really into thighs for some reason, so he likes clothing that puts a focus on them like those really tiny shorts or skirts and thigh highs. his keyboard and desk are probably sticky because i imagine he comes a lot and it gets everywhere and he only half asses the clean up... yuck lol.

he doesn't have a clue on how to interact with women, of course. maybe he has a crush on you because you live across the hall or he always sees you working at his favorite coffee shop or whatever but he can't even form a single coherent sentence or keep eye contact with you. all he can think about is how badly he wants to bend you over and fuck your thighs ever since he saw you in a pair of shorts.

he's got it really bad. he won't stand close to you in the elevator if you both happen to be in there at the same time, but once you get out he's walking behind you to look at your ass so he can get more visuals to jerk off to later. and you don't have a clue! you think he's just the shy reclusive guy who you see from time to time not knowing you're the person he's picturing every time he's getting off.

“he’s begging for you, baby. sannie needs it so bad.” she guides you closer to where he’s sitting on the couch, waiting and begging and whining for you. “don’t you wanna give him what he wants?”

“yes.” you answer before you even stop to think. it’s not like you really need to think, though. you just have to listen to winter, and give taesan what he wants.

taesan’s eyes don’t leave your face for a second while you situate yourself on top of him. inch by inch, he disappears inside you, and the two of you are whining on the verge of tears just from this. there’s no telling how loud you’ll get when either of you actually starts moving.

“good job,” winter says, her voice still soft and sinful against your ear. you aren’t sure if she’s talking to you for being able to take it, or taesan for being able to keep his composure and not cum the second you bottomed out, but it doesn’t really matter that much to you. all you want is for her to keep talking, and to keep telling you what to do. then she speaks again, and you know this time that she’s talking to the both of you. “feels so good, doesn’t it?”

neither of you can speak coherently. all that comes out of your mouth is stupid, nonsensical and half-formed fragments opposed to real words, but winter understands anyway… mostly. the whole time, she remains there to ground you, to tell taesan where to hold onto you while he bucks his hips up or remind you to keep your eyes open when it starts feeling a little too good.

one of you must’ve mentioned something about feeling close. it must’ve been taesan, though, because winter pulls his hand down between your legs. the feeling of his fingers grazing against your clit make you jolt, the unexpected stimulation pushing you closer to your own orgasm. “that’s it, sannie. rub her just like that. i bet she’s clenching around you so hard right now.”

you are, you can’t help it. the sound taesan makes sounds a little pained, but his hand or hips don’t stop moving for a second. too afraid to disobey his bandmate, and too close to stop fucking you.

while you’re busy watching the sight of his face contorting with pleasure—a view you plan on savoring forever, knowing you’ll never get to see it again—winter’s hand wraps around the front of your throat and tilts your head back. her lips feel surprisingly soft against yours, and all you can do is moan and pang into the kiss, the noises becoming louder and more desperate the closer you feel yourself getting.

“s-so close…” taesan whimpers out, the movements of his hand faltering, his mind getting hazier the more he tries to keep himself from spilling too early. girls always cum first, after all—that’s what winter taught him. “please cum, please, so i can cum. sannie—ah—needs it so badddd…”

winter’s lips detach from your own, and pathetically, you whimper and try to chase after her like she’s the only thing keeping you alive. she doesn’t go far, though, her lips pressing light kisses down the side of your neck. “you heard him, pretty. go ahead and cum, yeah? don’t leave sannie waiting.”

it never stopped feeling good. thinking of you while running his hand down his abdomen and past his waistband, staring at the collection of pictures he had of you taped to the back of his bedroom door. he didn't even have to think, all he had to do was let his body do what it wanted—what it needed.

he'd always shiver every time he let his mind start to wander, the way it always did when he touched himself to the thought of you. he'd gotten good at imagining you there, with him, watching his display of hopeless devotion with your own two eyes.

sometimes he pictured you being sweet. leaning over him, placing your hand over his own, trying to correct his sloppy rhythm. you'd smile at him, the same way you always do, and it would push him that much closer to his climax. you ask him why he's holding back, and then you say that he shouldn't. "just let go already. you know you want to."

other times you were strict. your eyes didn't stray from his face. you didn't blink. you didn't smile. you just stared, looking utterly unimpressed and bored by him, like he meant absolutely nothing to you. "are you really going to cum already?" you'd say, and then scoff, shaking your head disapprovingly. "don't you want to make it last? it feels so much better that way. you really don't know anything." and he'd try, so so hard, to hold off, just to try and change your mind. every time he would feel his orgasm building up, he'd slow down before coming to a stop, only to start the process all over again.

there were even times he'd imagine you being mean to him. whispering mocking words into his ear and then laughing at him, saying how pathetic and disgusting he was for what he was doing. "do you always jerk off and think about me? you're so gross." he'd nod, even though he knew he was alone. it didn't matter. he was gross. he was pathetic, and disgusting, and desperate. he was everything you said he was, and yet he wasn't ashamed in the slightest. in fact, he loved it. he loved that you were right about him, even if it was all in his head.

imagining you with him was the only way he was ever able to cum. no matter what fantasized version of you his mind conjured up, they all served the same purpose—getting him to his inevitable release. and even that ended the same way, too. his breaths would get heavy, and he'd quietly whisper your name over and over again, speeding up the movements of his hands until that familiar bliss consumed him. his hips would buck up into his hand, no more than three times, and there would always be a mess everywhere. in his pants, and his hand, and his stomach. absolutely filthy, but always so worth it.

he wanted to see you again. he needed to see you again. the only beautiful creature on this entire earth, the only thing that keeps him human.

he should go to that party.

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RIWOO ꜜ

he’s the one who wanted this. this was his idea. you were just playing along with the fantasy.

you were hesitant in the beginning. having sex with someone who wasn’t riwoo wasn’t something you ever thought you’d be doing when you first entered this relationship, but you got more and more used to it as time went on.

“fuck, you’re so much bigger than—ah—my boyfriend…”

riwoo’s eyes meet yours through the crack in the door, and he wonders what you see when you look at him. he hopes you think he looks pathetic, that the sight of him fucking his fist while watching you get ravaged by someone else makes you want to spit more harsh words directed at him.

through your never-ending moans, you manage to answer his prayers. “feels so good… riwoo never fucks me like this.” and you’re right. he doesn’t fuck you like that, ever. he won’t let himself. it’s so much better when he gets to watch other people do it to you in his place.

the best part is when you’re close. your mind gets fuzzy whenever your orgasm starts creeping up on you, and when that happens, he gets to hear you scream his name because your brain to mouth filter disappears within the haze of pleasure. it’s always enough to make him cum on the spot with a quiet little whine, spilling his load into his hand, watching as some of it drips down onto the floor near his feet.

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JAEHYUN ꜜ

you always figured jaehyun might be into something like this.

he always comes when you call. he never questions your requests, no matter how outlandish. he insists that he belongs to you—every single part of him.

“jaehyun!”

as expected, he never strays too far. the second you call his name, he’s entering the living room, stood directly in front of you as he eagerly awaits what you have to say. he hopes it’s a command.

“strip. now.”

a tingle travels up his spine. he loves when you talk to him like that, straight to the point as always, no room for disobedience. he doesn’t speak, doesn’t even nod, just starts peeling off his clothes later by layer until he’s bared to your scrutinizing gaze. you point downwards, towards the floor, and he kneels without a second thought, inching himself as close as you’ll allow.

you let him get close enough, then hold out your hand, signaling for him to stop. the silence stretches for several moments. if jaehyun is nervous at how intensely you’re staring at him, he doesn’t let it show. you sigh, your voice cold when you decide to speak again. “my coffee was cold this morning.”

his eyes widen, the memory of his mistake flowing back to the forefront of his mind. you see his lips part, but you don’t allow him a chance to explain himself. you press down the toe of your heel against his half-hard cock, scoffing under your breath when he bucks his hips up into your shoe. “mm… please, mistress—”

jaehyun gasps at the feeling of you pressing your foot down harder. “shut up. you don’t speak unless i say you can.” you remind him, shaking your head. poor thing is already leaking precum all over your new shoes. guess you’ll have to make him lick them clean later.

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TAESAN ꜜ

“hey guys! so glad to see you all again.”

leaning in closer to the camera, you flash a smile to the screen, much to your viewer’s delight. it hasn’t been long since you started streaming, and you’re steadily growing in popularity with each new post—partly because you’re so pretty and charismatic… mostly because of taesan.

your eyes scan over the comments, trying to read them out before they disappear. one in particular catches your eye. “where’s kitty?” throwing a quick glance to your left, then back towards the camera, you pick it up, giving everyone a good view of exactly what they all come to see.

taesan, with his furry ears perched on top of his head and collar secured around his neck, is the main attraction. he lies in near the bottom of your shared bed, sprawled out on his back, his naked skin shining with sweat and his thighs and abdomen stained with several rounds worth of cum. your hand hasn’t stopped moving up and down his achingly oversensitive cock yet. you’ve been doing this before you even turned the camera on, and now he’s had, what? four? five orgasms? he can’t even remember.

“isn’t he so cute?” you giggle, placing the camera back down on your desk. taesan mumbles something, but neither of you even try to understand whatever it was, knowing that he’s far past the point of coherency by now. “i hate having to punish him. he’s usually such a good boy, but i guess even good pets break rules sometimes.”

the people love it. they eat it up every time, donating ridiculous amounts to see you edge him or choose something from your toy box to use on him until he cries.

you perk up at the familiar chime of a donation coming through. $300, and all you had to do was “milk him dry plssss.”

“don’t pass out on me yet, kitty.”

taesan whines, his body jolting when you lightly pinch his thigh. did he even have a choice?

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LEEHAN ꜜ

“look at us,” you whisper, resting your chin on leehan’s shoulder, turning his head to face the mirror. “don’t we look so pretty?”

leehan stares back at his reflection, but says nothing. he almost doesn’t recognize himself. the makeup, the way you’ve styled his hair, the lingerie you’ve made him put on… he really does look like a girl. he looks pretty.

“isn’t this so fun?” smiling, you take his hands in yours, pulling him up and away from your vanity. “i love sleepovers. should we paint our nails next?”

leehan looks away, averting eye contact with you. “i… could we maybe do something else?” something less embarrassing is what he probably means. maybe even something normal, like watching a movie or baking cookies. he doesn’t expect you to sit him on your thigh and tell him to get himself off.

“you think i can’t feel how wet you are?” you tilt your head to the side, hooking your finger underneath the waistband of the frilly pink panties you’d made him put on earlier, pulling it as far as you could before letting go. the elastic snaps back against his hip, which makes him hiss quietly in pain. “now be a good girl and do it. i know you know how. you probably do it all the time for the boys, don’t you?”

with your guidance—because he was clearly too shy to start on his own—leehan rocks his hips back and forth along your thigh. the wet stain on the front of his underwear gets more and more prominent the more he moves, and so does his embarrassment. even so, he didn’t want to stop. being treated like this was kind of… hot? it was weird, and he’d probably never admit it to you out loud. he’d just leave his evidence in the form of his rapidly approaching orgasm, and maybe you’d get the hint that he wanted to do this again sometime.

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WOONHAK ꜜ

what was so hard about eating a girl out? you were only letting woonhak do this because he claimed he knew what he was doing. you didn’t realize he was one of those guys. the kind that always boast about how good they are at making girls cum. you’re not even the slightest bit close right now.

you sigh loudly, again, lowering your phone to see if woonhak is any closer to being finished so you can fake an orgasm and shoo him away—but no, his head is still buried between your legs, much to your disappointment. rolling your eyes, you go back to typing on your phone, no longer interested in paying him any attention.

“mmph—” it’s quiet. so quiet, you almost thought the sound was coming from your phone. the faint creaking sound that you didn’t think was important enough to pay attention to. “shit…” woonhak stands up, sheepishly clutching at at front of his jeans. this time, you put your phone down, sitting up to get a closer look at whatever he’s trying to hide from you.

“did you just cum?” the question is so blunt, it startles him. he looks at you, mouth agape, ears burning as he debates wether or not if he should tell the truth. like you don’t already know. what a joke.

“uh…” he looks away, unable to meet your eyes all of a sudden. “maybe?”

your disbelief renders you speechless. what was he doing, humping the bed while he was attempting to eat you out? just when you thought he couldn’t get any more pathetic, he finds some way to prove you wrong.

you can’t help it. you laugh at him. the loud kind that never seems to end no matter how hard you try and reign yourself back in. you think you hear him leave at some point, his footsteps fast and anxious, but you don’t care to check. you’re already texting your friends to let them know where woonhak falls on your ranked list.

kim woonhak. 1/10. can’t eat pussy to save his life. came in his pants lol.