jiungluvr🪼

It starts the way it always does with him on his knees.

He's already hard before he even touches you, his cock straining against his jeans as he presses his face into the inside of your thigh. He breathes you in, deep and slow, like a man taking his first lungful of air. His doe eyes are half lidded, dark and glassy, his lips parted. He's not begging yet. Not out loud. But the way his fingers tremble against your skin says everything.

"Please," he finally breathes, voice hoarse. "Please, baby. Let me taste you. Just a little. Just—" He kisses the crease where your thigh meets your hip, tongue darting out to taste salt and warmth. "I need it. I need it."

You barely nod before he's burying his face between your legs.

Michael doesn't start slow. There's no teasing, no gentle buildup. He goes straight for your clit with the flat of his tongue, laving it in long, broad strokes that make your hips jerk. His hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, holding you open for him like you're a meal he's been starved for. And he has been. Every hour away from you is an hour of withdrawal, of craving, of counting down until he can have this again.

He moans against you, the vibration sending a jolt straight to your core. His tongue flicks faster, circles, presses flat, then flicks again. He's sloppy. Desperate. There's no technique to it just pure, unadulterated hunger. Saliva and your wetness mix together, dripping down his chin, and he doesn't wipe it away. He wears it like a badge of honor.

"Fuck," he mutters against your cunt, the word muffled by your flesh. "Fuck, you taste so fucking good. Sweet. So sweet. I could—" He stops talking because his mouth is too busy, too full of you.

He loses track of time down there. Minutes blur into hours. His jaw aches, his tongue cramps, but he doesn't stop. Can't stop. Every time you try to shift away, oversensitive and trembling, he tightens his grip on your hips and pulls you back. His nose presses into your pubic bone, his lips sealed around your clit, sucking gently at first, then harder, then letting go only to dive back in.

When you're in bed, he crawls under the covers without a word. You feel his hot breath against your inner thigh before his mouth finds you, half-asleep and warm. He nuzzles into your cunt like a man seeking comfort, lapping lazily at your folds until you're wet and sighing in your sleep. He falls asleep that way sometimes his cheek pressed against your thigh, lips brushing your clit, breathing you in. He wakes up hard, aching, and immediately starts all over again, licking you awake.

During the day, it's worse.

He'll pull you into the studio under the pretense of needing your opinion on a new track. The door clicks shut, the blinds close, and suddenly he's on his knees again. He shoves a pillow under him not for his comfort, but to get the angle right. His chin tilts up, his tongue out, waiting. Begging with his eyes.

"Just a taste," he whispers. "I'm stuck. I can't write. I can't think. I need—" He presses his forehead to your thigh, breathing hard. "I need your pussy, baby. She's my muse. She's the only thing that makes the words come."

And you let him. Because it's true. The moment his mouth finds you, the tension in his shoulders melts. His hands roam your ass, squeeze, spread, pull you closer. His tongue works you until you're gasping, your fingers tangled in his hair, your hips grinding against his face. He moans with every flick, every suck, every time your cunt clenches around nothing because his tongue is right there, pressing into your entrance, tasting your cream.

He comes in his pants without realizing it.

The first time it happens, he's so focused on your pleasure that he doesn't notice his own cock throbbing, pulsing, spilling into his jeans. The wet patch spreads warm against his thigh, and he only becomes aware of it when you're done, panting and limp, and he pulls back with a glistening chin. He looks down at himself, blinks, and then grins, sheepish, embarrassed, but also proud.

"Sorry," he mutters, but he's not sorry at all.

It becomes a pattern. Two pairs of jeans a week. Sometimes three. He starts buying cheap brands because he knows they'll be ruined. The laundry basket fills with stiff, stained denim, and he never complains. He just shuffles to the drawer, pulls out another pair, and gets back on his knees.

You have to push him away.

It's the only way it stops. When your clit is raw and swollen and every flick of his tongue makes you flinch, you press your palm against his forehead and shove. He resists at first, whining against your skin, trying to chase your taste as you pull back. "No," you say, breathless. "Michael. Stop."

And he does. But only because you said so. Only because your voice has that edge of finality that he can't ignore.

He sits back on his heels, chin wet, lips red and puffy, eyes glazed. His breathing is ragged, and there's a smear of your arousal across his cheek. He licks his lips slowly, savoring the last traces.

"Sorry," he says again, but his voice is thick. He's not sorry. He's already thinking about the next time, counting the hours until he can taste you again.

He crawls up the bed and curls against you, pressing his face into your neck. His hand is still wet, still slick with your juices, and he brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean one by one. His eyes close. He's content. Sated. But only for now.

Because tomorrow morning, before the sun rises, he'll be between your thighs again. His tongue will find your clit before you're fully awake. His mouth will seal over you, and he'll hum in satisfaction, drinking you down like a man dying of thirst.

And he'll whisper, half to himself, half to you: "Not my fault you taste so sweet."

He says it like a prayer. Like a confession. Like the truest thing he's ever known.

jiho couldn’t help but end up falling for you. this ongoing crush of his, which he truthfully thought would end quickly, was still here and he couldn’t help but feel somewhat guilty for the feelings he held— scared that he would ruin this friendship he deeply cared about. jiho could ignore his feelings just to stay in your life. at least that’s what he thought.

now you two sat on your dorm bed, talking endlessly about anything and everything as you attempted to do some homework (you had maybe written one sentence on your laptop). well, more like you were talking as jiho listened. he would occasionally chime in with a comment or question, but besides that he just sat there concentrating on your beautiful voice that was so so hypnotic to him. he couldn’t help but end up lost in his thoughts as his eyes studied your features.

“—so i was thinking of studying abroad next semester.” the words that left your mouth caused jiho to quickly snap out of his trance.

“wait.. study abroad?”, jiho asks, a confused look on his face. it was cute honestly, his eyes big as he stared at you from his spot on your bed. you let out a hum, shutting your laptop and setting it on the desk next to you.

“yeah, there are a few cool options! i could go study in canada, australia or china.. not sure where to go. it’s sort of last minute so those were the only options left,” you respond as you get up to stretch. the entire time you moved around your small dorm room jihos eyes were only on you, following your figure with his eyes. a slight pout appeared on jihos face as the thought of you leaving him for an entire semester swarmed his thoughts. the image of you being away from him for so long was definitely upsetting but he also wanted to be supportive of you and your choice. once you had looked back at the beautiful blonde haired boy who was sat on your bed, you had seen the small pout that was left on his face. curious, you asked about it.

“why are you pouting?”

“ah,” jiho said, straightening his posture as he continued, “i didn’t realise i was pouting..” he looked down at his hands for a moment, playing with his fingers in his lap. he wasn’t sure why but he felt nervous, the fact he was easy to read made him a bit awkward. and to you, he was acting odd.

“you didn’t answer my question, ji,” you sat back on the bed, closer to him than you were before. jiho felt the way his ears and face burned slightly, it honestly felt embarrassing to admit the reason he was pouting was because of the thought of you leaving him. you, not so patiently, waited for his response and scooted closer to him in hopes to get his attention.

jiho sighed, admitting defeat, “i just don’t want you to leave me..” his voice was quiet as he spoke. jiho couldn’t help but to cringe at his own words, asking himself why he would say that outloud. you simply tilted your head in confusion, still not fully understanding why jiho seemed this upset. sure, it’s a bit sad to be far away from your friends for quite some time but it felt like he was still hiding something from you. it was as if he wasn’t telling you the full story.

the both of you sit in silence and for a few moments the room is silent. then jiho bites his lips nervously as he faces you, looking serious for once. he wants to just tell you but with the knowledge of you going abroad he couldn't help but wonder if confessing now would cause your friendship to end. it would be easier for you to ignore him if you were in a whole different country and he didn't want that. yet there was the chance that if he didn't tell you know, you might fall in love with someone else in canada, or australia, or wherever you decided to go.

“what do you mean leave you? i’m going to come back ji,” you say but he shakes his head.

“what if you find someone else? what if you replace me?” he asks.

it's not typical of him to worry about these things and it surprises you how insecure and small he seems when it comes to your friendship. you couldn't understand why he would even think that you would put anyone before him. the two of you were like the earth and the sun with the way your lives orbited around each other.

“as if i could ever—”

“you don’t get it,” jiho says, cutting you off. his voice trembles slightly as he continues speaking, “i like you. a lot.” before you could even say anything jiho spoke back up, “i’m sorry, i don’t want to make things weird– its just.. i don’t want to lose you..” jiho tried his best to explain his feelings however the way his heart was continuing to speed up and his body shook made it a bit difficult. the room was silent for a moment more, you trying to put your thoughts together into words. then finally, you spoke up.

“jiho. i like you too,” you start, your hands making their way to his, “i would never ever replace you.”

jihos eyes meet yours, a confused look in his pretty eyes, “really?”

“yes dummy. i’ve liked you for a while now,” you let out a laugh, “i think i was pretty obvious.”

he couldn’t believe the words that left your lips, a shocked expression left on his face. you smiled at him, reassuringly squeezing his hands softly. he genuinely had to take a moment to process the words you said, they repeated in his head a few times before he finally speaks up.

“can you kiss me?”

jihos voice was shaky as he asked, it seemed as if he didn’t mean to say it aloud. however you were more than willing to give him what he asked for, “of course ji.” and then you let go of his hands, now placing your hands on his thighs to prop yourself up as you leaned close. your eyes flickered down to his lips before back up at his eyes, licking your lips before finally diving in. you gave him a quick kiss before pulling away to check for jihos reaction. seeing the way he chased your lips was more than enough of a reason to kiss him again. you leaned in again, your lips slotting together– a small noise leaving jihos throat. the noise partially from the shock of your lips meeting his again, partially from the way you kissed him with a bit more passion and more pressure this time. jihos back leans up against the bedroom wall as you find your way onto his lap, straddling his thighs. jiho pulls away for a quick second to catch his breath, looking up at you with pretty doe-like eyes. he had never had someone in his lap before, and never someone this pretty– someone this perfect. he didn’t realise how desperate he looked, yet you did. you leaned down, one of your hands going to grip his chin as you left messy kisses on his jawline.

as you kissed at his jawline, you slowly moved down to his neck— leaving kisses all over before you ultimately decided to suck on a spot softly. jiho lets out a quiet gasp, his eyes fluttering shut as you left little marks on his neck. it felt new and different to jiho, the tingly sensation drove him insane.

he felt lightheaded, his senses were filled with you and you were all that was on his mind right now. jihos hands roamed over your body thoughtlessly, trying to find somewhere to place his hands. his hands find their way up your thighs and land on resting his hands on your hips. a hum leaves you as you try to scoot closer to jiho until the two of you are basically chest to chest, feeding off of each other's body heat. your hands make their way into jihos blonde hair, gently running your fingers throughout his pretty hair as you make your way back to his lips.

“you are so.. so gorgeous,” you say against his lips before pressing your lips together once more. jiho gently squeezed your hips, using it as a way to ground himself as your lips moved together in sync.

after some time, the two of you calmed down— the deep, long kisses turning into soft, short kisses and finally the two of you moved from sitting up to lying in the bed, your arms wrapped around his waist as you left pecks on his flushed face.

jiho never wanted this to end.

a/n: man this was supposed to come out forever ago but work has been killing me :( anyways this was written for my sade, thank u for the request my love :3 i wish i was able to make this longer but sadly my brain empty.. this is also my first actual fic in years BUT i hope everyone enjoyed~