the boy is mine

BANGCHAN.

It had started with a lazy kiss. Just a brush of his lips against yours as you sat beside him on the couch, half-distracted by the TV. But Chan’s hand had wandered, creeping beneath your shirt, and yours had followed suit, trailing lower until he’d squirmed into your lap with a breathless, “Need more.”

Now he’s flat on the bed, arms stretched above him, wrists tied loosely to the headboard with his own hoodie sleeves. His thighs are shaking, cock flushed dark red and twitching against his stomach, already soaked and leaking onto his skin. You’ve been edging him for nearly an hour—touching just enough, then stopping, again and again.

“Fuck,” he whines, hips jerking up as your hand wraps around him again. “Please, I—I'm gonna—”

“Not yet,” you murmur, but your thumb swipes across the tip anyway, smearing precum down the shaft. Chan sobs under his breath, back arching, stomach tight.

His voice is wrecked when he begs. “I’ll make a mess—swear I will—I’ll ruin your sheets if you let me.”

That’s all it takes.

You stroke him with purpose now—slow but tight, dragging your hand up and twisting just beneath the head. Chan’s body reacts instantly, heels digging into the mattress, legs spreading wider, his whole body trembling.

“Please—please—fuck—!”

When he finally comes, it’s like you’ve broken something in him. His breath cuts out entirely as hot spurts of cum shoot up his chest, the first one so strong it lands on his neck, the rest painting his abs in thick ribbons. His entire lower half tenses and trembles as he rides it out, almost whimpering from the force.

You don’t stop until he’s whining your name, trying to squirm away from your still-moving hand, overstimulated and gasping, the mess dripping down his sides and onto the sheets just like he promised.

When you finally untie him, Chan melts into your chest, cock still twitching in aftershocks, skin flushed to the tips of his ears.

“…Told you I’d make a mess.”

MINHO.

Lee Know swears he’s not sensitive.

You’ve heard it a hundred times, even when his thighs are trembling and his back’s arching off the mattress, even when his hands are scrambling for your wrist as you jerk him off slow and mean.

But you know better.

He’s sprawled on the couch now, one leg thrown over your lap, pants long gone, and your mouth pressed tight to the underside of his cock. Your fingers stroke him in rhythm—steady, controlled, relentless.

He’s flushed everywhere. Neck, chest, tips of his ears. His voice comes out in broken whines as he grips the armrest behind him. “D-Don’t—don’t tease, I can’t—”

But you don’t stop.

“Feels too good?” you murmur, licking a stripe up to the head. “So sensitive you’re gonna cum just like this?”

He doesn’t answer, just nods, frantically, until the tension breaks all at once. He shudders hard, gasping as he cums with no warning—thick, messy spurts that catch on your knuckles and his stomach, splashing up with every twitch of your hand.

But he doesn’t stop—his cock keeps throbbing in your grip, more cum spilling out, soaking the fabric under his hips.

“S-Shit—” he whimpers, half-hiding his face in the crook of his arm. “Y-You made me—fuck, it’s so much—”

It takes several long seconds for him to stop shaking. You just grin and wipe your hand across his inner thigh, admiring the mess.

“You sure you’re not sensitive?”

He shoots you a look.

CHANGBIN.

He was just supposed to be riding your thigh.

Changbin loves it. Loves the burn of it, the pressure. The way you flex under him and grab his waist, murmuring praise right into his ear. He gets so into it, grinding faster and faster until his eyes roll back.

But tonight?

Something’s different.

You feel how soaked he’s gotten—his cock smearing precum everywhere as he whines under his breath. His hips are frantic, chasing more, his hands braced against your chest as he pants, “M’gonna cum, wait—fuck—”

You’re about to tell him to slow down—until you feel it.

Not just cum. A gush.

Hot, wet release shoots across your abs in heavy spurts, completely soaking your shirt as his cock twitches again and again. He’s shaking like he’s short-circuited, cumming so hard he squirts across your stomach and down your lap.

“Holy—Changbin.”

He collapses on your chest, breathing uneven, voice hoarse. “That’s… never happened before.”

You run your hand through his sweaty hair and smirk.

“Then let’s make it happen again.”

HYUNJIN.

He asked to try something new.

Hyunjin’s always shy about it—voice soft, lashes low. But tonight, he slips into your lap in the backseat of your car with no underwear on, pants already open, cock hard against his belly. The windows fog up fast.

“Ride me,” you whisper, hands gripping his hips.

He starts slow, gasping at the stretch, cock bouncing against your chest as he takes every inch. But it’s the rhythm—your hands guiding him, your praises warm in his ear—that breaks him open. His pace grows frantic, sloppy, desperate.

“Feels so full—too full—”

Then it happens.

A shudder ripples through him, and without even touching his cock, he squirts—a sudden, unexpected burst of hot cum splashing between your chests, ropes hitting your throat, your shirt, the dash.

He freezes, thighs trembling, face going red.

“I—I didn’t mean to—”

You groan, bucking up into him hard, loving how he clenches again. “You’re gonna do it again.”

And he does. His voice goes ragged as another weaker squirt sprays out, dripping down both your stomachs. You kiss his throat as he sobs into your shoulder, fucked dumb from pleasure.

HAN.

You find him on the couch of your shared home studio, face buried in his arms, headphones on, his cock already leaking against his thigh.

“I can’t focus,” he says when you nudge him.

You sit beside him and slip a hand between his legs. He gasps, hips jerking. “S’too much—been hard all day—thinking about you.”

It doesn’t take long before he’s straddling your lap, mouth open in a dazed moan as you fuck up into him. His cock drips precum constantly, leaving wet smears across your chest where it rubs.

Then he tenses.

“Ah—fuck, I’m—!”

You look down just as he squirts—thick, creamy release shooting from his cock with no warning. It sprays across your stomach in short, desperate bursts, a messy trail that doesn’t stop until he’s slumped forward, twitching with aftershocks.

He pants against your shoulder. “N-not done,” he mumbles.

And he isn’t. You feel him throb, leaking steadily as you thrust up into him, his body still eager to give more. The next release paints your chest again, less forceful but even messier, all while his cock stays untouched.

FELIX.

You’d stayed behind to help him close the café, and now his apron is bunched up around his waist as he straddles you on the back counter.

He’s flushed from exertion, freckles bright, cock twitching untouched while you grind into him. The moans he lets out are soft and melodic, full of whimpering pleas to go just a little harder, deeper, faster.

You reach between you both to stroke him—and he jerks, gasping.

“No—d-don’t—gonna—!”

His cock twitches again. Then he squirts.

The first stream hits your stomach, fast and sudden. The second splatters your chest. Felix chokes on a whine, trying to curl forward, but you hold him firm—making him take every inch while his cock pulses and spurts like it can’t stop.

“Fuck, baby,” you murmur, watching another gush leak down his shaft. “You really couldn’t hold it, huh?”

“I—mmnh—can’t help it,” he cries, face buried in your shoulder. “It just—keeps coming…”

It does. And you don’t stop thrusting until he’s boneless and dripping, twitching with overstimulated pleasure.

SEUNGMIN.

It’s the way he teases you during meetings, pretending to be focused while grinding just slightly in your lap. The way he says he’s “not needy” even as his cock leaks against his stomach the moment you unzip his pants.

By the time you’ve got him bent over your desk, Seungmin’s gasping for every breath.

You jerk him in time with your thrusts—quick, firm—and his voice breaks on a moan.

“I’m not—gonna—mmh—!”

But then his cock twitches wildly, and he squirts.

Not a dribble. A sharp, forceful burst that paints your desk and his shirt in ropes of cum. It doesn’t even stop right away—another squirt follows, and another.

“Fuck, Seungmin—” you mutter, stunned at the sheer volume.

He’s trembling under your hands, panting so hard he sounds on the verge of tears. “I didn’t mean to—it just—hhnn—!”

You keep fucking him through every spurt, the wet slick sounds of his orgasm spurring you on until he’s slumped and shuddering against the wood.

JEONGIN.

He’d asked for this—whispered it into your neck the night before, blushing like mad. “Can you make me lose control? Like... for real?”

So today, you had him tied to the bed. Nothing too intense—just soft cuffs around his wrists, spread wide and aching for it.

You’d edged him once. Twice.

Now, he’s barely coherent. His cock’s flushed purple, leaking nonstop. He’s crying a little, babbling things even he doesn’t understand.

“P-Please… wanna cum… pleaseplease—”

You fuck into him hard, wrap your hand around his cock just once, and—

He squirts.

A thick, sudden burst shoots up his stomach and hits his chest, Jeongin choking on a gasp as more follows. It’s messy. Loud. His cock jerks with every pulse, and it doesn’t stop after the first round. Another shot. Then another.

When you finally pull out and let him rest, he’s soaked and shaking, eyes wide.

“...Was that—normal?” he asks, voice hoarse.

You just smile. “You tell me.”

BANGCHAN.

You'd just gotten home from a long day, expecting peace—but the second you step through the door, Chan’s already in front of the bedroom mirror, legs trembling where he’s bent over, fully naked with one of your t-shirts clinging to his chest, damp from sweat and nerves. His fingers are stuffed inside himself, dripping wet, pushing in and out with an almost feverish pace.

“You were taking too long,” he huffs breathlessly, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “And I—I needed to—”

He doesn't even finish the sentence. You’re behind him in seconds, dragging his fingers out of his slick pussy and replacing them with your cock. Chan gasps—loud and sharp—back arching like you’ve shocked him.

“So desperate you started without me?” you growl, hands gripping his hips as you push in deep. “You wanted to squirt all over the floor before I even touched you?”

“No—! I mean—” He’s already clenching down on you, soaking wet. “I was gonna wait—was gonna save it for you—!”

“Bullshit.”

You start pounding into him, the mirror rocking in its frame as Chan’s cries turn high-pitched. His knees buckle with every stroke, dripping all over your thighs and the floor, soaked to the point of shame.

“Fuck, fuck—‘m gonna—!”

“Let go,” you command, one hand snaking between his legs to rub his puffy clit. “Let me see how messy you get when you come on my cock.”

He sobs as his body convulses, squirt gushing in pulses down his thighs, spraying onto the mirror, the floor, your stomach. His pussy clenches erratically around you as you fuck him through it, and when he finally slumps forward, panting and ruined, the mirror fogged up in front of him, you lean in close.

“Next time, you wait like a good boy.”

MINHO.

It always happens when he rides you.

Lee Know’s control is impeccable—until he loses it. And he always does, right around the fourth time his hips sink down and your cock grazes just the right spot inside him.

Tonight, he’s wearing nothing but one of your button-downs, halfway undone, collar hanging off his shoulder, and his knees are planted on either side of your thighs as he bounces with precision. Controlled. Tight. Beautiful.

But his pussy is messy already—slick dripping down his inner thighs, lips swollen around your cock, clenching harder the more praise you give.

“Feels so good when you ride me, baby. So greedy.”

He bites his lip, hard. He always pretends he’s unaffected.

Until you grab his hips and start fucking up into him.

That’s when it changes.

Lee Know claws at your chest, whining sharp and breathless as you hit deep and fast, rocking into him hard enough to make his thighs tremble. “N-no, not like that—gonna—!”

You smirk. “Gonna what?”

The sound that rips from his throat doesn’t even sound human. His whole body jerks, and then you feel it: wet, hot, sudden.

He squirts around your cock, his pussy fluttering violently as clear fluid sprays across your stomach and the sheets beneath him. He’s gasping, eyes unfocused, barely riding it out as you keep thrusting.

The second stream comes just a few seconds later, shorter but somehow messier, dripping down your thighs and the backs of his.

He collapses forward, panting into your shoulder.

“...Don’t say a word.”

But you feel him clench again just as your cock twitches inside him—like he wants to do it again.

CHANGBIN.

It starts with his legs shaking.

Changbin always tries to act tough—cocky even—when you fuck him. Even now, he’s on all fours on your bed, looking back over his shoulder with that bratty little grin, pussy already twitching around your cock like it’s starving.

“You like watching it suck you in, don’t you?” he pants, hips rolling back with each thrust. “Bet you couldn’t last without this—”

You slam in deeper, and his words crumble into a gasped moan.

But it’s only when you pin his hips down and really give it to him—hips slapping fast, low angle hitting that spongey spot deep inside—that the brat act falls apart. His hands claw at the sheets. His voice breaks.

“Wait—fuck, it’s—too—!”

Then you feel it.

His whole body trembles as slick bursts around your cock in a sudden gush, soaking your thighs and the sheets under him. His pussy squirts, uncontrollable and messy, clear fluid spraying as he lets out a low, broken cry.

You pull out just slightly, watching him flutter, then sink back in hard—earning another rush, a weaker one, but his body reacts the same. Wrecked. Boneless.

You smack his ass, grip tight. “So greedy you squirted all over me.”

He hides his face in the pillow. “Y-You were hitting it too good.”

You’re already sliding back in, unrelenting.

“That’s the point.”

HYUNJIN.

Hyunjin’s always been a romantic.

He makes everything feel like a performance—arched back, flushed skin, that theatrical cry every time your cock hits deep. But tonight, it’s different. No velvet sheets or candlelight. Just the harsh clatter of your belt buckle as you fuck him over his own drafting table.

“F-fuck—you’ll ruin it,” he gasps, voice high and fluttering as his sketchpad tumbles off the edge.

He shouldn’t have worn that sheer, silky robe. Shouldn’t have bent over and whispered that he “needed inspiration.” Now your cock’s buried to the hilt in his tight, soaked pussy, and Hyunjin’s practically melting—legs trembling, chest pressed to torn sketches of himself.

You tug his hair, angling him deeper. “What’s the real inspiration, baby?”

His answer is a breathless moan—then his whole body locks up.

He squirts.

A sudden, hot stream gushes around your cock, soaking your thighs, the table, dripping to the floor. His moans are shattered, hand grasping for nothing as the squirting pulses with each deep thrust you give him.

“Y-you're making me—again—!”

And he does. A second gush, weaker but messier, his pussy clenching greedily, wet and twitching around you.

You grab his waist and fuck through it all, growling into his ear, “You’ll be my masterpiece by the time I’m done.”

HAN.

It always happens when he’s overstimulated.

Jisung’s got one hand clawing the sheets and the other fisted in your hair, his legs shaking around your waist as you piston into his soaked pussy. He’d already cum twice—both times loud, messy, begging—but you didn’t stop. He told you not to.

“W-want you to break me,” he’d whispered, tongue dragging along your jaw, still leaking from his second orgasm.

Now he’s folded nearly in half, toes curled, body flushed to his ears, and when you shift his knees higher and grind in deep—he lets out this pitchy, startled moan.

Then squirts.

It’s sudden—a high, wet splatter against your abdomen, his pussy spasming wildly around you. Another gush follows, just from your slow grind, soaking his inner thighs and making a slick mess of the sheets beneath him.

He pants, eyes hazy and teary. “A-again—please, fuck, I’m—!”

You hush him, thumb swiping through the slick between his thighs, teasing his puffy entrance until he’s leaking more. He twitches, thighs clamping shut, but you ease them open again.

“Gonna keep going ‘til you drench this bed, baby.”

FELIX.

Felix is so sensitive after cuddling all morning, cheeks pink from soft kisses and whispered praise. You’re slow at first—hips grinding into him from behind while he lays curled on his side, gripping the pillow with one hand and your wrist with the other.

His pussy makes the filthiest sounds, clenching down with every gentle thrust, fluttering when you brush just the right spot.

“I—I feel funny,” he whimpers, his voice barely above a breathy moan.

And then it happens.

A sudden gush of wetness spills from him, soaking the sheets between his thighs. He squeaks, thighs trembling. “Oh my god—what was that—!”

You still inside him just long enough to glance down. The sheets are drenched, and your cock’s completely coated with slick. He’s panting, dazed.

“Baby,” you murmur, thumbing the dripping mess from his inner thigh, “you squirted all over me.”

Felix covers his face with both hands, whining, “Don’t say it like that—!”

But his pussy clenches again when you slide back in. Another warm gush follows, and this time you both moan through it.

SEUNGMIN.

He always puts on that defiant front—rolling his eyes when you tell him to ride you, claiming he’s “not that desperate.”

But tonight?

He’s the one bouncing in your lap like he’s trying to win something. Hands gripping your shoulders, hair sticking to his temple, pussy swallowing your cock down to the base every time. You’re barely even helping—just sitting back, letting him use you.

And then…

“Wait—nghh—don’t—!”

It hits so fast he can’t stop it. Seungmin’s pussy flutters violently and then gushes, warm and sudden, a high-pitched whimper escaping him as slick spills between your thighs.

“Oh my god,” you groan, gripping his hips as more wetness coats your lap.

Seungmin stares down at the mess he’s making, stunned, lips parted. His thighs are soaked. Your abs are glistening.

“…Shut up,” he mutters, flushed ear to ear, even as his pussy clenches again.

You thrust up into him just once—and he squirts again, harder.

JEONGIN.

You knew Jeongin was sensitive. He got shy even when you kissed his neck. But once he finally let you fuck him—nervous fingers curled into your sheets, begging you to be slow—you realized just how sensitive he really was.

His pussy sucked you in like it was made for you. Wet, tight, and fluttering so much you had to pause and breathe through it.

“D-Don’t stop, please,” he whined, voice trembling.

And when you reached down to thumb at his clit, still buried deep inside him—he screamed.

You barely registered it at first. The sudden splash of warmth. His hips twitching uncontrollably. It wasn’t until he sobbed and tried to close his legs that you realized:

He was squirting. Hard.

“Fuck, Jeongin,” you gasped as his cunt gushed again, coating your thighs, the sheets, everything.

He looked dazed—pussy dripping, mouth parted, eyes glossy as he whined, “I didn’t mean to, I—I can’t stop…”

You kissed his temple and didn’t stop either.