SITRI

LEE LEEKNOW MINHO

Minho is a teasing sadist even when he’s losing control. He has you on all fours, one hand fisted in your hair as he fucks you hard from behind. Every deep thrust makes him groan, and instead of letting the sounds out freely, he leans down and sinks his teeth into your shoulder blade.

The bite is sharp and deliberate, meant to muffle his pretty moans. “Quiet… or I’ll bite harder,” he whispers, voice sweet but threatening, right before his teeth dig in again. He loves the way you whimper when he bites, the way your pussy clenches around him. He alternates between soft, teasing nips and hard, possessive bites that leave clear teeth marks.

He’ll bite the back of your neck, your shoulder, even the curve of your waist if he can reach it. Each bite is accompanied by a low, muffled groan that vibrates against your skin. When he’s close, his rhythm becomes punishing and his bites turn almost feral. He cums with his teeth sunk deep into your shoulder, groaning loudly into your skin as he fills you. Afterwards, he licks the bite marks almost apologetically while calling you his pretty kitten.

SEO CHANGBIN

Changbin is loud, intense, and completely unable to stay quiet when he’s lost in you. He has you bent over the edge of the bed in a deep doggy-style position, his powerful body completely covering yours from behind. His thick, muscular thighs slap against the back of yours with every brutal thrust, the sound wet and obscene in the room.

Every time his fat cock slams deep into you, hitting that perfect spot that makes your toes curl, a deep, guttural groan builds in his chest. He tries to hold it back, but he can’t. Instead, he leans forward, pressing his broad, sweaty chest against your back, and sinks his teeth hard into your shoulder. The bite is strong and possessive, his jaw clenching as he muffles a loud, animalistic moan against your skin.

“Fuck— baby, you’re so tight,” he growls, voice deep and rough, the words vibrating through his teeth into your flesh. His massive hands grip your snatchable waist tightly, fingers digging deep into your soft skin as he uses your body like a handle to pull you back onto his thick cock. The contrast is overwhelming. His huge, muscular frame against your smaller one, his teeth sunk into your shoulder while he pounds you mercilessly.

The position lets him hit even deeper, and his muffled moans become louder, more broken. He growls into your skin, teeth clenched tight as his hips stutter. He cums with a loud, deep, muffled roar, sinking his teeth hard into your shoulder as thick ropes of cum flood deep inside you. His whole body shakes against yours, muscles flexing as he holds you in place, refusing to let go until he’s completely emptied himself.

HWANG HYUNJIN

Hyunjin turns even something as raw as biting into something almost poetic. He has you riding him slowly, his back against the headboard, hands gripping your hips as you sink down onto his cock. His head falls back at first, long hair messy, lips parted in pleasure. But as the intensity builds and his thrusts become deeper, needy moans start slipping out.

He suddenly leans forward, burying his face in the curve of your neck and shoulder. His teeth graze your skin teasingly at first, then sink in with a low, breathy groan that vibrates against you. “You feel too good… I can’t stay quiet,” he whispers hotly before biting harder, teeth pressing into your soft flesh as he snaps his hips up sharply.

The bite is firm but graceful enough to leave a clear imprint, but never truly painful. He loves the way your body jolts when he bites, the way your pussy clenches around him in response. His long fingers dig into your waist as he uses your body to bounce you harder on his cock. Every deep thrust is paired with a new bite. On your collarbone, the top of your breast, the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder.

Then he'd moans against your skin, teeth grazing before sinking in again. His voice is breathy and beautiful, even when muffled. As he gets closer, his bites become more desperate, almost frantic. He holds you down on his cock with one hand on your waist while his mouth stays latched onto your shoulder, moaning loudly into your skin as he cums deep inside you. Afterward, he gently kisses and licks every bite mark, admiring how pretty they look on your skin while whispering how perfect you are.

HAN JISUNG

Jisung is loud, desperate, and completely unable to stay quiet when he’s inside you. He has you in missionary, legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks you hard and fast. His face is buried in your neck, hot breath fanning against your skin with every thrust.

Every time his cock hits that perfect spot deep inside you, a loud, broken moan tries to escape him. He solves it by sinking his teeth into your shoulder, muffling the sound against your skin. “Fuck— baby, you feel so good I can’t—,” he whimpers before biting down harder, teeth digging in as his hips snap forward desperately.

His bites are messy and needy, lots of small, overlapping marks all over your shoulders, neck, and collarbone. He can’t control himself. The harder he pounds into you, the harder he bites, using your body to muffle his loud, whiny moans. “I’m sorry— you’re too tight,” he whines pathetically against your skin, teeth still latched on.

When he gets close, his thrusts turn frantic and sloppy. He buries his face completely in your neck and bites down hard on your shoulder as he cums, moaning loudly into your flesh while filling you up. His whole body shakes against you. Even after he finishes, he keeps his teeth gently pressed against your skin for a few seconds, breathing heavily, before he starts kissing and licking the marks apologetically.

LEE FELIX YONGBOK

Felix’s deep voice makes his muffled moans incredibly sexy. He has you in missionary, body pressed close to yours as he fucks you with slow, deep rolls of his hips. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin.

Every time he bottoms out, a low, rumbling groan builds in his chest. He muffles it by sinking his teeth into your shoulder, the vibration of his deep voice traveling straight through the bite. “You feel so fucking good, angel,” he groans against your skin before biting harder, teeth pressing firmly into your flesh as he grinds deep.

His bites are sensual and possessive. He loves leaving a trail of marks across your shoulders and chest. The combination of his deep voice, his teeth on your skin, and his thick cock stretching you open is overwhelming. He’ll switch between soft, teasing nips and harder bites that make you gasp. “Can’t stay quiet when you’re this tight around me,” he moans, voice beautifully low even when muffled.

When he’s close, his thrusts become deeper and more intense. He holds you tightly and bites down on your neck as he cums, groaning deeply into your skin while filling you up. The feeling of his teeth and his low, vibrating moans pushes you over the edge with him. Afterward, he gently kisses every bite mark, his deep voice soft and loving as he tells you how perfect you felt.

KIM SEUNGMIN

Seungmin tries to stay composed, but you feel too good for him to stay quiet. He has you pinned beneath him, fucking you with sharp, precise thrusts. His face is in your neck, and every time a moan threatens to slip out, he bites down on your shoulder.

The bite is firm and teasing. “Can’t even stay quiet for me?” he mocks softly against your skin before sinking his teeth in again. His bites are tender, never too painful, but hard enough to leave clear marks and make you whimper. He loves the way you clench around him when he bites. “Pathetic… getting wetter every time I bite you.”

He keeps one hand in your hair, pulling your head to the side so he has better access to your neck and shoulder. His thrusts are relentless, each one paired with a new bite. When he’s close, he bites down harder, muffling his rare but beautiful moans as he cums deep inside you. And even that bite couldn't hide how desperate his moans are spilling ending up with his whole body rigid. Afterwards, when you tried to open it up with he'll act as if that thing never happened.

YANG JEONGIN

Jeongin gets surprisingly possessive and eager when pleasure overwhelms him. He has you in doggy style or spooning, body pressed close as he fucks you hard. His face is buried in the back of your neck or shoulder, breathing heavily.

Every deep thrust makes him moan, so he solves it by biting down on your shoulder. “Noona… you feel too good,” he groans before sinking his teeth in, trying to muffle the sound. His bites start a little shy but quickly become more confident and possessive. He loves leaving marks on you, clear evidence that he was there.

As he gets more lost in pleasure, his bites become harder and more frequent. He grips your waist tightly with one hand while biting your shoulder, using your body to pull you back onto his cock. “I can’t stop… you’re too tight,” he whimpers against your skin, teeth still latched on. When he cums, he bites down firmly on your shoulder, groaning into your flesh as he fills you up, making up pull his head up just so he could gasp the pleasure out. Afterward, he becomes very soft and clingy, kissing the bite marks gently while asking if he was too rough.

permanent taglist: @hime-honne, @dxllyhorror, @thepoeticpurplepotato, @verslyns, @channlust, @leewayout, @zosauce, @kloversung, @1-aria-1, @vxyselectric, @urfavleobiscuit, @written-by-music, @fanficwriter5, @minniebitesfr, @pedropacals0l0s, @iheartkentonanami, @ncityswrld, @danielle143, @persassyismysecrettwin, @trisha-dear, @pineapple-burgah, @luv4innie, @bunbunbl0gs, @marlboropuffs, @morgangrice18, @33peach33, @peskybirdysya, @ogerontheside4, @theyknowagus, @zerefdragn33l, @melodyladean, @ebnabi, @emeraldgem22, @fweakygyatt, @taekwondoe, @sue-reads, @shinygubbins, @lilmissfergy, @binniebb, @clairementsolo, @nclabels, @genuinelybrittleidol , @parkthothwa8, @daphnnie, @hyunnjynn, @sagetakami, @hanniesbubuwife, @hycnsung, @matzduo, @hwang97janet,

LEE LEEKNOW MINHO

Minho is a teasing sadist even when he’s losing control. He has you on all fours, one hand fisted in your hair as he fucks you hard from behind. Every deep thrust makes him groan, and instead of letting the sounds out freely, he leans down and sinks his teeth into your shoulder blade.

The bite is sharp and deliberate, meant to muffle his pretty moans. “Quiet… or I’ll bite harder,” he whispers, voice sweet but threatening, right before his teeth dig in again. He loves the way you whimper when he bites, the way your pussy clenches around him. He alternates between soft, teasing nips and hard, possessive bites that leave clear teeth marks.

He’ll bite the back of your neck, your shoulder, even the curve of your waist if he can reach it. Each bite is accompanied by a low, muffled groan that vibrates against your skin. When he’s close, his rhythm becomes punishing and his bites turn almost feral. He cums with his teeth sunk deep into your shoulder, groaning loudly into your skin as he fills you. Afterwards, he licks the bite marks almost apologetically while calling you his pretty kitten.

SEO CHANGBIN

Changbin is loud, intense, and completely unable to stay quiet when he’s lost in you. He has you bent over the edge of the bed in a deep doggy-style position, his powerful body completely covering yours from behind. His thick, muscular thighs slap against the back of yours with every brutal thrust, the sound wet and obscene in the room.

Every time his fat cock slams deep into you, hitting that perfect spot that makes your toes curl, a deep, guttural groan builds in his chest. He tries to hold it back, but he can’t. Instead, he leans forward, pressing his broad, sweaty chest against your back, and sinks his teeth hard into your shoulder. The bite is strong and possessive, his jaw clenching as he muffles a loud, animalistic moan against your skin.

“Fuck— baby, you’re so tight,” he growls, voice deep and rough, the words vibrating through his teeth into your flesh. His massive hands grip your snatchable waist tightly, fingers digging deep into your soft skin as he uses your body like a handle to pull you back onto his thick cock. The contrast is overwhelming. His huge, muscular frame against your smaller one, his teeth sunk into your shoulder while he pounds you mercilessly.

The position lets him hit even deeper, and his muffled moans become louder, more broken. He growls into your skin, teeth clenched tight as his hips stutter. He cums with a loud, deep, muffled roar, sinking his teeth hard into your shoulder as thick ropes of cum flood deep inside you. His whole body shakes against yours, muscles flexing as he holds you in place, refusing to let go until he’s completely emptied himself.

HWANG HYUNJIN

Hyunjin turns even something as raw as biting into something almost poetic. He has you riding him slowly, his back against the headboard, hands gripping your hips as you sink down onto his cock. His head falls back at first, long hair messy, lips parted in pleasure. But as the intensity builds and his thrusts become deeper, needy moans start slipping out.

He suddenly leans forward, burying his face in the curve of your neck and shoulder. His teeth graze your skin teasingly at first, then sink in with a low, breathy groan that vibrates against you. “You feel too good… I can’t stay quiet,” he whispers hotly before biting harder, teeth pressing into your soft flesh as he snaps his hips up sharply.

The bite is firm but graceful enough to leave a clear imprint, but never truly painful. He loves the way your body jolts when he bites, the way your pussy clenches around him in response. His long fingers dig into your waist as he uses your body to bounce you harder on his cock. Every deep thrust is paired with a new bite. On your collarbone, the top of your breast, the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder.

Then he'd moans against your skin, teeth grazing before sinking in again. His voice is breathy and beautiful, even when muffled. As he gets closer, his bites become more desperate, almost frantic. He holds you down on his cock with one hand on your waist while his mouth stays latched onto your shoulder, moaning loudly into your skin as he cums deep inside you. Afterward, he gently kisses and licks every bite mark, admiring how pretty they look on your skin while whispering how perfect you are.

HAN JISUNG

Jisung is loud, desperate, and completely unable to stay quiet when he’s inside you. He has you in missionary, legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks you hard and fast. His face is buried in your neck, hot breath fanning against your skin with every thrust.

Every time his cock hits that perfect spot deep inside you, a loud, broken moan tries to escape him. He solves it by sinking his teeth into your shoulder, muffling the sound against your skin. “Fuck— baby, you feel so good I can’t—,” he whimpers before biting down harder, teeth digging in as his hips snap forward desperately.

His bites are messy and needy, lots of small, overlapping marks all over your shoulders, neck, and collarbone. He can’t control himself. The harder he pounds into you, the harder he bites, using your body to muffle his loud, whiny moans. “I’m sorry— you’re too tight,” he whines pathetically against your skin, teeth still latched on.

When he gets close, his thrusts turn frantic and sloppy. He buries his face completely in your neck and bites down hard on your shoulder as he cums, moaning loudly into your flesh while filling you up. His whole body shakes against you. Even after he finishes, he keeps his teeth gently pressed against your skin for a few seconds, breathing heavily, before he starts kissing and licking the marks apologetically.

LEE FELIX YONGBOK

Felix’s deep voice makes his muffled moans incredibly sexy. He has you in missionary, body pressed close to yours as he fucks you with slow, deep rolls of his hips. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin.

Every time he bottoms out, a low, rumbling groan builds in his chest. He muffles it by sinking his teeth into your shoulder, the vibration of his deep voice traveling straight through the bite. “You feel so fucking good, angel,” he groans against your skin before biting harder, teeth pressing firmly into your flesh as he grinds deep.

His bites are sensual and possessive. He loves leaving a trail of marks across your shoulders and chest. The combination of his deep voice, his teeth on your skin, and his thick cock stretching you open is overwhelming. He’ll switch between soft, teasing nips and harder bites that make you gasp. “Can’t stay quiet when you’re this tight around me,” he moans, voice beautifully low even when muffled.

When he’s close, his thrusts become deeper and more intense. He holds you tightly and bites down on your neck as he cums, groaning deeply into your skin while filling you up. The feeling of his teeth and his low, vibrating moans pushes you over the edge with him. Afterward, he gently kisses every bite mark, his deep voice soft and loving as he tells you how perfect you felt.

KIM SEUNGMIN

Seungmin tries to stay composed, but you feel too good for him to stay quiet. He has you pinned beneath him, fucking you with sharp, precise thrusts. His face is in your neck, and every time a moan threatens to slip out, he bites down on your shoulder.

The bite is firm and teasing. “Can’t even stay quiet for me?” he mocks softly against your skin before sinking his teeth in again. His bites are tender, never too painful, but hard enough to leave clear marks and make you whimper. He loves the way you clench around him when he bites. “Pathetic… getting wetter every time I bite you.”

He keeps one hand in your hair, pulling your head to the side so he has better access to your neck and shoulder. His thrusts are relentless, each one paired with a new bite. When he’s close, he bites down harder, muffling his rare but beautiful moans as he cums deep inside you. And even that bite couldn't hide how desperate his moans are spilling ending up with his whole body rigid. Afterwards, when you tried to open it up with he'll act as if that thing never happened.

YANG JEONGIN

Jeongin gets surprisingly possessive and eager when pleasure overwhelms him. He has you in doggy style or spooning, body pressed close as he fucks you hard. His face is buried in the back of your neck or shoulder, breathing heavily.

Every deep thrust makes him moan, so he solves it by biting down on your shoulder. “Noona… you feel too good,” he groans before sinking his teeth in, trying to muffle the sound. His bites start a little shy but quickly become more confident and possessive. He loves leaving marks on you, clear evidence that he was there.

As he gets more lost in pleasure, his bites become harder and more frequent. He grips your waist tightly with one hand while biting your shoulder, using your body to pull you back onto his cock. “I can’t stop… you’re too tight,” he whimpers against your skin, teeth still latched on. When he cums, he bites down firmly on your shoulder, groaning into your flesh as he fills you up, making up pull his head up just so he could gasp the pleasure out. Afterward, he becomes very soft and clingy, kissing the bite marks gently while asking if he was too rough.

permanent taglist: @hime-honne, @dxllyhorror, @thepoeticpurplepotato, @verslyns, @channlust, @leewayout, @zosauce, @kloversung, @1-aria-1, @vxyselectric, @urfavleobiscuit, @written-by-music, @fanficwriter5, @minniebitesfr, @pedropacals0l0s, @iheartkentonanami, @ncityswrld, @danielle143, @persassyismysecrettwin, @trisha-dear, @pineapple-burgah, @luv4innie, @bunbunbl0gs, @marlboropuffs, @morgangrice18, @33peach33, @peskybirdysya, @ogerontheside4, @theyknowagus, @zerefdragn33l, @melodyladean, @ebnabi, @emeraldgem22, @fweakygyatt, @taekwondoe, @sue-reads, @shinygubbins, @lilmissfergy, @binniebb, @clairementsolo, @nclabels, @genuinelybrittleidol , @parkthothwa8, @daphnnie, @hyunnjynn, @sagetakami, @hanniesbubuwife, @hycnsung, @matzduo, @hwang97janet,

Your mom’s were best friends, you grew up in the same house practically, spent holidays together. He was less a boy and more a permanent fixture in your home. You had done most of the looking out for him when you were younger, fending off anyone who dared to look at him the wrong way. And when he went off to college, you following him, two years later, it was his turn to look after you. He introduced you to his friends, a group of boys from the frat he joined, skipped class to hang around your dorm when you weren’t feeling well. He was your best friend. He was your Han Jisung.

Your Han Jisung, who is currently trying to convince his friends that he has never kissed you and has never thought to.

It annoys you a little. You’ve run through your fair share of men, and some women, since you’ve started college last year. You know you're attractive, that certainly isn’t the problem. So why was Jisung so adamant in proving to his friends that he’s never thought of you in that way? You were starting to feel a bit wounded.

“I’m calling bullshit,” Felix says, leaning against the beer pong table. Smoke drifts upward from the shared joint hanging between his fingers, a fuzzy halo above his blonde head. “Never? Not even once? Come on.”

You don’t even know how this conversation started. One minute you're all lounging around at this house party on a random Friday night, and the next the discussion had shifted to this.

“No,” Jisung’s thigh bounces up and down, which isn’t unusual. He always gets jittery when he smokes. “No. I haven’t, she’s like a–”

“For the love of a fat ass, don’t say she’s like a sister to you,” Hyunjin says, wrinkling his nose.

“Why not?”

Hyunjin gestures wildly at the position you two are sitting in right now. You’re practically in his lap. Your legs are tangled with his on the beat-up couch, and your head is resting on his shoulder.

“That’s how we always sit,” Jisung says, eyebrows pinched in confusion. 

“Okay, well, my sister doesn’t have a lap full of me right now, so there’s that,” Felix says, a lazy grin spreading across his face.

Jisung just grumbles something and snatches the joint from Felix. He leans his head back into the couch, breathing it in deeply, passing it to you without even lifting his head from the pillows. You catch it with your teeth, brows furrowing in disappointment when you're hit with nothing. It’s dead. You pluck it from your lips and lean forward to crush it in the ashtray on the coffee table. When you settle back against the cushions, you shift, just slightly.

Your knee brushes against the crotch of his jeans. The resulting twitch from him is immediate, a little jump of muscle that tells you everything you need to know. He has thought about it. He’s lying through his teeth and it’s hurting your fucking ego.

Hyunjin stretches out his leg to nudge your leg with his foot. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You ever thought about it?”

You and Hyunjin have a weird sort of relationship. You hooked up once at a party, back when you were a freshman. Jisung had found out and gotten upset, telling you that his friends were all assholes and man-whores and were therefore off-limits. You pointed out that Jisung had slept with some of your friends and you hadn’t said anything but he wouldn’t be swayed, refusing to talk to you until you promised to never do it again. You decided then that Hyunjin, though he was beautiful and a pretty decent fuck, was not worth it. The two of you never spoke of it again, but a certain level of playful flirtation has remained. 

“Sure,” you say breezily, picking at a loose thread on the couch cushion.

Jisung sits up so fast you nearly topple over. “You have?” The look on his face is nothing short of comical.

“Yeah. Have you not?”

“No,” he says, and the lie is so obvious it hangs heavy in the air, “We’re best friends.”

“So?” Hyunjin’s leaning forward now, elbows on his knees, dark eyes dancing with mischief. “Best friends can have fun.”

You’re starting to think he might be right. And you’re starting to think you’d like to have some fun with Jisung, especially if it meant wiping that stupid look off his face. It was a dangerous thought, one that you’d entertained briefly before, always shoving it down because it felt wrong, like crossing some sort of sacred line.

But right now, watching him squirm, it feels more like a starting line.

You shift again, slower this time, and rest your hand on his thigh. His leg stops bouncing. He freezes, all motion ceasing except for the rapid rise and fall of his chest. He’s looking straight ahead, at the wall, but you can feel the heat of his gaze on your profile.

“What’s so wrong with me that you don’t want to kiss me?” You pout, looking at him through your lashes.

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and his eyes are wide and dark and full of something you can’t quite name. “Nothing,” he breathes. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

You shrug one shoulder, making a show of sighing and rolling your eyes towards the ceiling. “Clearly there’s something wrong with you, then. I know for a fact almost all of your friends have thought about kissing me.” You’re bluffing, mostly. You only know for a fact about Hyunjin. And maybe Seungmin. But that was more of a vibe.

Thankfully, Felix gets the hint. He leans forward on the couch, balancing his elbows on his knees. “I have.”

Jisung turns sharply towards him, parting his lips but before he can speak, Hyunjin chimes in, raising his hand. “I did.” Then, when Jisung throws him a look so dirty, he recoils. “Once. And I never did it again.”

“I wouldn’t be so against it,” Changbin chimes in from where he's playing beer pong. He giggles and turns back to the game ignoring the death glare from Jisung.

You flash him a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Then you turn back to Jisung. You can feel the beat of his heart through the denim of his jeans, a frantic little drum solo against your palm. “See? I’m very kissable.”

He doesn't move, doesn't back away. He just swallows, the sound loud in the suddenly quiet corner of the party. His gaze drops from your eyes to your lips and back again.

You sigh loudly, untangling your legs from his and getting up from the couch. "Whatever," You step past him. "I'm gonna go get more–"

A hand wraps around your wrist, yanking you back so suddenly that you can’t help but yelp, landing in a heap onto Jisung’s lap. Before you can react—or even adjust yourself properly—his lips find yours.

It’s not a soft, tentative kiss. It's a crash. It’s messy and a little desperate, the way a teenager kisses for the first time. There’s an edge of frustration to it, of months, maybe years, of unspoken tension finally boiling over. His tongue slides against yours, and you can taste the cheap beer and the lingering smoke. His hand moves from your wrist to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, holding you in place. He’s kissing you like he’s trying to prove a point. Someone wolf-whistles, Felix maybe, but it fades into a distant hum, and all that’s left is the frantic beat of his heart against your palm and the dizzying taste of Han Jisung.

When he finally pulls away, you’re both breathless. His pupils are blown wide, swallowing the brown of his irises. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, a smug little smirk playing on your lips.

"Shit," Jisung breaths. "You're good at that."

"You were there too, you know," You tease bumping your forehead into his. Maybe you should feel a little weird about kissing this boy you've known since you were children when you've never crossed this line before. But, strangely, or maybe not so strangely, there's nothing weird about it. It feels as natural as breathing, kissing Jisung.

Instead of replying, he's tilting his head up to catch your lips again, palms sliding down from your neck over the expanse of your back and smoothing over your ass, pulling you into him. He deepens the kiss with a soft groan that vibrates in your chest. It's a better kiss this time, slower, more certain. He explores your mouth with a newfound confidence. This is fun. So much fun. You're not sure why you never tried this before.

His thumb finds that little strip of skin between your top and your jeans, stroking it gently. And a shiver goes through you that has nothing to do with the buzz of the party. It’s a jolt, a current that runs straight down to your core, and your hips roll against his of their own accord. A low moan escapes your lips and into his mouth. 

“Booooo,” Hyunjin says from somewhere behind you. “Get a fucking room.”

Neither of you are fazed in the slightest. You feel a great chasm opening between the two of you. It’s only been about  thirty seconds of kissing Jisung and you already know you’ll never be the same without it. You mourn all the years you’ve gone without his lips on yours and you mourn for all the years that will come after this phase of kissing Jisung, because it will someday end. All your life you’ve never known anyone to keep a relationship. 

You pull back from him and he pouts, a pretty little thing that you want to bite. You hold back for now.

“Why haven’t we done this sooner?” He asks, dazed. He leans in to kiss you again, but you put a finger to his lips.

“Because you were too busy denying how much you wanted to,” you say, grinning. The power you feel is intoxicating, headier than the cheap beer, sweeter than the cherry cola on his tongue.

He just grumbles something unintelligible, nipping at the pad of your finger before leaning back into the couch, pulling you with him. His grip on your waist is firm in a way that sends another thrill through you. He’s not letting you go.

You end up making out for the rest of the party, tucked into your little corner of the couch. The weed and the alcohol fade into a distant hum, replaced by the overwhelming sensation of him. When the party eventually thins out and he walks you home, he kisses you some more at the door and you have to physically pull yourself away from him.

“Okay, okay,” you laugh as he tries to follow you inside. “Go home, Ji.”

“When can I see you again?” he asks, a desperate edge to his voice. His hair is a mess from where your hands have been tangled in it, and his lips are swollen and red.

“You see me practically every day.” You shrug, trying to play it cool, even as your heart hammers against your ribs. “And we have that paper to finish for psych.”

“Forget the paper,” he says, shaking his head. “I want to kiss you again.” He takes a step closer, his hands finding your hips. “I don't think I can stop.”

He’s looking at you with a raw, open honesty that makes your breath catch in your throat. This is not the Jisung you know. Your Jisung is goofy and sarcastic, prone to hiding behind jokes and deflecting with humor. This Jisung is… intense.

“Tomorrow,” you say, your voice a little too soft. “You can see me tomorrow.”

He seems to accept this, nodding slowly. He leans in and gives you one last, lingering kiss, a soft, gentle press of lips that feels more intimate than all the frantic kissing from before. “Okay,” he whispers against your mouth. “Tomorrow.”

He takes a few steps down the path, then he stops and turns back. The porch light casts him in a soft, golden glow, but you can see the uncertainty in the set of his shoulders. He’s a silhouette against the dark night, and for a second, he looks like the little boy you used to build pillow forts with.

“Hey,” he calls out, shoving his hands in his pockets. “This… this doesn’t change anything, right?”

You pause with your hand on the doorknob. Change anything? The idea is almost laughable. You and Jisung have been a constant in each other's lives since before you could even remember. What could a few kisses possibly change?

“Of course not,” you say, a genuine, easy smile spreading across your face. “We’re just having fun. Right?”

“Right,” he nods. “Fun. Right.”

He turns and jogs away, a spring in his step that wasn't there before. You watch him go, a warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through your chest. It’s just fun. You’ve always been good at having fun.

And fun it is. Your relationship hasn't changed much, at least not on the surface. You still hang out nearly every day, still bicker over what to eat for dinner, still fall asleep watching movies in his bed. The only difference is that now, you kiss. You kiss in the morning, before you’ve even brushed your teeth, a sleepy, soft press of lips. You kiss in the afternoon, between classes, a quick, hard peck against the brick wall of the humanities building. You kiss at night, tangled in his sheets, long, deep, and searching, until you’re both breathless and aching for more.

The line between friendship and… whatever this is… has become a blurry, beautiful mess.

You’re in his room, a month into this new arrangement. You’re supposed to be studying for a midterm, but your textbook lies forgotten on the floor, its pages crumpled. Jisung is on top of you, his weight a pleasant, grounding pressure. He's kissing a trail down your neck, his lips hot and insistent against your skin.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. His hand slips under your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on the soft skin of your stomach.

You arch into him, a soft gasp escaping your lips. Your fingers tighten in his hair. This is the part that’s always been a little blurry. You've never crossed this line, never went beyond just making out and heavy petting. It feels like the next logical step in this "fun" you're having, but there’s a tiny, hesitant part of you that’s still a little afraid of what that step might mean.

“Jisung,” you breathe, your voice a little shaky.

He pulls back, his face hovering just above yours. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say, shaking your head. “Nothing’s wrong.” You reach up and cup his face, your thumb stroking his cheek. “I just… I'm on my period."

It's a lie. You don't know why you're lying. Maybe you're scared. Maybe you know that having sex with your best friend is a line you can't uncross. But he doesn't need to know that.

He blinks, processing this, then a slow, lazy smile spreads across his face. "So?"

"So?" you echo, a little thrown. "So, it's gross. Don't tell me you've done it before."

"I mean, yeah," he shrugs, "a couple of times. It's not a big deal." He leans down and kisses you, a quick, soft peck on the lips. "I don't care. Did you know it helps a lot with cramps?"

You roll your eyes, but you can't help but laugh. "Did you read that on a feminist blog or something?"

He scratches his eyebrow. "Actually, I was researching what helped with period cramps after you mentioned having really bad ones a few years ago." he says, his ears turning a shade of pink. He smiles sheepishly. "I ended up settling for some Advil."

The admission is so unexpected, so utterly Jisung, that it cuts through the haze of arousal. You let out a small, breathy laugh. "You're an idiot," you say, but there's no malice in it. You reach up and smooth the furrow in his brow. "A sweet, researched-my-cramps idiot."

He grins, relieved. "So... no on the period sex?"

You shake your head, a genuine smile on your face. "No. Nice try though."

"Damn," he says, though he doesn't sound too disappointed. He shifts, rolling off you to lie beside you. "Can I at least still touch you?"

You pretend to think about it, tapping a finger against your chin. "Hmm, I don't know. I'm a very fragile flower right now."

He snorts, rolling his eyes. "Right. A fragile flower who was just trying to rip my shirt off five seconds ago."

"Was not."

"Were too."

"Was not."

"Were too."

"If I wanted your shirt off, I would have it off by now," You point out. And you would have. You’re an expert at undressing men quickly.

"I'm not that easy," Jisung protests, propping his head on his elbow to look at you comfortably. "I don't take my shirt off for just anybody."

You roll onto your side to face him, propping your own head up. The sunlight catches in his hair, turning it into a fluffy, brown halo. "Yeah, well, I'm not just anybody. And I've seen you shirtless a bijillion times anyway."

"Yeah but not during sexy sexy time." He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

"Take off your shirt, Jisung." You say, sitting up now, poking his chest with your finger. He yelps, smacking your hand away.

"I just said I'm not that easy!" He whines.

You just stare at him, raising a single eyebrow.

He holds out for approximately three seconds before he sighs dramatically and sits up, crossing his arms and grabbing the hem of his shirt. He pulls it over his head in one fluid motion, tossing it onto the floor. "There. Are you happy?"

You gap at him. "You got a tattoo? Holy shit, it's big."

He grins, unable to help it. "That's not the only thing that's bi--"

You cut him off with a look. He clears his throat. "Uh, yeah. I had it done almost two months ago now."

You trace the elegant cursive script with your eyes. It starts just under his left armpit, a single, beautifully rendered word. Blessed. The letters flow down his side, over the sensitive skin of his ribs, disappearing tantalizingly beneath the waistband of his jeans. You have an overwhelming urge to see the rest of it.

"Blessed?" You trace the letters with your fingertip, from the top down as far as you can go. The skin under your touch is warm. He shivers. "Why 'Blessed'?"

He shrugs, looking away, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "I don't know. Just felt right."

A memory suddenly rises to your mind. ""Blessed is he who has learned the causes of things""

He grins sheepishly. "Am I really that predictable?" He asks.

"Yes, you pretentious shit, quoting Virgil." You say but there is no heat in it. "You are such a dork."

He laughs, a soft, breathy sound that rumbles through his chest. You shift, laying your head on his stomach so you can get a better view of the tattoo, your fingers continuing their slow, meandering path over the ink. His skin is soft here. You can feel the muscles of his abdomen tighten slightly under your touch.

"It's about…," he beings thoughtfully, his voice vibrating through your ear. His fingers start to play with your hair, gently combing through the strands. "It's about... understanding, you know? Not just letting shit happen to you, but actually trying to figure out the why. The cause and effect."

You hum in response, your finger tracing the curve of the 's' in 'Blessed'. You can feel the slight raised texture of the healed ink against your skin.

"When I was getting it done," he continues, his voice a low, intimate murmur, "it hurt like a bitch. But it was this weird, focused pain. I could feel the needle, and I knew exactly where it was coming from and why it hurt. And for some reason, that made it... easier. Made me feel in control." He pauses. "Most of life isn't like that. Things just happen. People get sick, relationships end, you fail a test... you don't always get to know the cause."

Your finger stills. You can feel the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing beneath your cheek. He's not talking about Virgil anymore. He's talking about everything. About the anxiety that sometimes keeps him up all night, about the sheer, terrifying randomness of the world.

"I guess I just wanted a reminder," he says, and you can tell he's not really here with you, but somewhere deep inside of his head. "That even if I can't control the causes, I can at least try to learn them. To understand them. And maybe... maybe that's a kind of blessing in itself."

You press your lips against the skin of his ribs, right over the last visible letter of the word. It's a soft, gentle kiss, nothing like the frantic, demanding kisses from before. 

He lets out a shaky breath, his hand stilling in your hair. You feel his fingers tighten just a little bit, a reflexive grasp. For a long moment, the only sound in the room is the hum of the mini-fridge in the corner and the frantic, unsteady beating of your own heart.

You assume he must be getting sex from elsewhere, because it's been two months since you first kissed him, and you still haven't gone all the way. The make-out sessions have escalated, sure. Hands wander further, clothes come off more readily. There's a fine sheen of sweat on your skin almost every night after he leaves your dorm room. But you always pull back, and he always, always, lets you.

You're starting to feel like a fraud. You preach 'fun' and 'no feelings,' but you're the one who's scared. Scared that crossing that final line will shatter everything you've built with him.

The thought of him with someone else gnaws at you. You try to brush it off. He's a college guy. Of course he's hooking up with other people. You do too, or you would be, if you could muster up the energy to go on a date instead of spending all your free time with Jisung.

You don't like feeling this way. It's an icky, possessive feeling that has no place in a 'fun' arrangement.

The thought bubbles up out of your mouth one evening while you're sprawled on your floor, 'studying' for finals. "Are you sleeping with anyone else?"

Jisung, who is highlighting a paragraph in a textbook with an almost violent concentration, freezes. The bright yellow highlighter hovers over the page. He doesn't look up.

"No," he says, a beat too late. "Are you?"

The question hangs in the air between you, charged with an unspoken electricity. You're not. You haven't even thought about it. The idea of going on a date with some random guy from your stats class feels exhausting, and deeply unappealing.

"No," you admit, picking at a loose thread on the rug. "I just... I figured you would be. We're not... exclusive."

"So?" He finally looks up, and his eyes are dark, serious. "I don't want to."

"Why not?" You press, needing to know. "I'm not putting out. A guy has needs."

A muscle in his jaw jumps. "I'm getting my needs met," he says, his voice low and a little rough. He puts down the highlighter and closes the book with a soft thud.

You sit up, genuinely intrigued. "With who?"

"With no one."

"That makes no sense, Ji, how--"

He just stares at you, a long, intense look that makes your stomach do a little flip. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to.

"Oh," you breathe, the realization hitting you like a physical blow. He's getting off on you. With the thought of you. The thought is so hot, so surprisingly intimate, that it makes you dizzy.

"Yeah, 'oh'," he mimics, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. He leans back on his hands, stretching his long legs out. "Is that a problem?"

"No," you say, a little too quickly. "No, it's not a problem."

"Good."

He goes back to his book, but the spell is broken. You can't focus. The image of him, alone in his room, thinking of you, is burned into the back of your eyelids.

"How come?"

He glances at you. "How come I jacked off to the thought of you riding my face in the library last week?" he asks, deadpan.

You choke on your own spit. "Jisung!"

"What? You asked," he shrugs, completely unfazed.

"That's not what I was asking, I–in the library?"

"Study room C," he clarifies, as if that's the detail you were stuck on. "The chairs are surprisingly sturdy–"

"Anyway," You interrupt. "I meant, how come you haven't been fucking anyone else?"

He sucks on his teeth. "Cuz I don't want to. Besides, it's not like there's any options anyway."

You snort. "That's a bold faced lie, Han Jisung, I know for a fact that that red head from lit has been trying to get in your pants for at least a month."

Jisung blinks. “I thought she was just interested in lizards.”

“No one is actually interested in lizards,” You point out.

“I am.”

“You’re a one in a million, Ji. Maybe even a billion. Are you really just going to keep her waiting?”

He shrugs. “I was never going to sleep with her.”

Now it’s your turn to blink in surprise. “Whoa. Okay, what up?”

“What?”

“Don’t what me, you’re the one with some sort of deadly illness. A  girl’s throwing herself at you and you don’t want to have sex with her?”

“Is that so bad?”

“No…it’s just weird. And a little out of character for you.”

“Is it?” He finally looks up, looking deep into your eyes. “Would you really be okay with me sleeping with her?”

“She’s not really my type, to be honest, so you can have–”

“No,” He cuts off, sounding frustrated now. It surprises you. “I’m not asking specifically about her. Are you really okay with me sleeping with anyone?”

That takes you off guard. “Yes? Why would I not be?”

He looks at you for a long moment, before turning back, huffing a little irritated laugh. “Right. Never mind, forget it.” 

He turns back to his book, highlighting aggressively and leaving you completely and utterly confused. You don't press it. The air is too thick with things you don't want to name.

The party is in full swing, a chaotic explosion of relief and cheap alcohol. The air in the frat house is thick with the smell of spilled beer and sweat, the bass from the speakers vibrating through the soles of your feet. Finals are over. Summer is a breath away. You should be celebrating.

Instead, you're leaning against a sticky wall in the kitchen, watching Jisung from across the room. He's holding court, of course, a circle of admirers hanging on his every word. Among them is the redhead from your lit class, the lizard enthusiast. She's laughing at something he said, her hand resting on his arm.

A hot, ugly feeling coils in your stomach. Possessiveness. Jealousy. You hate it. You hate it more as you watch her latch onto Jisung’s wrist and pull him away. He goes willingly.

You push off the wall and grab a solo cup of what smells like regret and fruit punch, downing half of it in one go. The alcohol burns a path down your throat.

You spot Hyunjin by the beer pong table, a triumphant grin on his face as he sinks the last cup. He catches your eye and raises his eyebrows in a silent question. You give him a tight-lipped smile and make your way over.

“Having fun?” he asks, handing you a fresh beer.

“Peachy,” you say, taking a long sip.

His gaze drifts over to where disappeared with the redhead. “Trouble in paradise?”

“There is no paradise,” you snap, a little too harshly. “There’s just… a sandbox. And someone’s trying to play in my sandbox.”

Hyunjin laughs, a low, knowing sound. “You’re so full of shit. You like him.”

“Of course I like him, he’s my best friend.”

“You know what I mean,” he says, leaning closer. “You’ve been different with him these last few months. Softer, but also… jumpier. Like a stray cat that’s finally decided to let someone pet it but is still ready to bolt at any second.” You open your mouth to deny it, but the words die on your tongue. Because he’s right. You are a stray cat, and you’re terrified.

Before you can formulate a response, a new voice joins the conversation. “Who’s a stray cat?”

It’s Felix, all sunshine and smiles, his arm slung around Changbin’s shoulders. He looks between you and Hyunjin, his curiosity piqued.

“Her,” Hyunjin says, jerking a thumb in your direction. “She’s finally realizing she’s in love with Jisung.”

The words land like a bomb. The kitchen seems to go silent, the thumping bass of the music fading into a dull roar. Your heart hammers against your ribs. In love. The phrase is so absolute, so terrifyingly final. It’s not ‘fun.’ It’s not ‘messing around.’ It’s love.

You’re about to laugh it off, to make some cutting remark that will shut Hyunjin down, but you don’t get the chance. Because you see it. Over Hyunjin’s shoulder, you see Jisung. He’s no longer with the redhead. He’s standing at the edge of the living room, and he’s looking right at you. And you know, with a sickening certainty, that he heard.

You shove past Hyunjin, ignoring his calls of your name. You need to get out of here. You need air. You push through the throng of bodies, the sticky floor gripping your shoes, the heat of the room pressing in on you. You burst through the front door into the cool night air, stumbling down the porch steps.

The front door opens and closes behind you. You don’t have to turn around to know it’s him.

“What was Hyunjin talking about?” His voice is tight, strained.

“Nothing,” you say, turning to face him. “He was just being an idiot.” You wrap your arms around yourself, a sudden chill making you shiver.

“He said you were in love with me,” he presses, taking a step closer. “Is that true?” His eyes are searching yours, desperate for an answer. And you can’t lie. Not to him. Not when he’s looking at you like that.

“No,” you say, the word coming out small and brittle. Because it’s not love. It can’t be. Love is messy and painful and ends with people crying on the bathroom floor. This is just… this is just a complication.

“Don’t lie to me,” he says, his voice cracking slightly. “Not about this.”

“I’m not lying!” you insist, your own voice rising with frustration. “Why do you even care? I saw you disappear with lizard girl."

He flinches as if you've slapped him. "Lizard girl? Her name is Sophie. And I didn't 'disappear' with her, I walked her to the door because she was too drunk to find it."

"Oh, I'm sure that's all it was," you scoff, the jealousy burning hot and irrational in your chest. "Poor, helpless Sophie."

"What the hell is your problem?" he says tightly, his usually calm demeanor shattering completely. "You say you don’t mind me sleeping with other people, but the second I so much as talk to another girl, you act like I've cheated on you!"

"Because you're supposed to be my friend!" you say harshly, your voice echoing in the quiet street. "You're not supposed to want them! You're supposed to want m—"

You cut yourself off, but it's too late. The words hang in the air, heavy and undeniable. You're supposed to want me.

Jisung stares at you, his expression a confusing mix of shock, hurt, and something that looks dangerously like hope. "Want you?" he repeats, his voice dangerously low. "Is that what this is about? Your ego? You need me to want you and only you, but you won't give me anything real in return?"

"That's not what I said!"

"It's what you meant!" he shoots back, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "God, you are so selfish. You want all of my attention, all of my...want. But you won't even admit what this is. You won't give me a label. What am I supposed to do, just wait around forever until you deign to let me in?"

His words are like shards of glass, each one finding a vulnerable spot. He's right. You have been selfish. You've been taking all the comfort and affection he offers without giving anything of substance back.

"Maybe you should just go fuck Sophie then," you spit out, the words laced with a venom you didn't know you possessed. "Maybe she's not as selfish as I am."

"Maybe I will," he retorts, his jaw set. "At least with her, I know where I stand."

The silence that follows is deafening. It’s heavier and colder than the night air. You can feel the chasm between you widening, a crack in the foundation of your entire friendship that you’re not sure can ever be repaired.

He looks at you one last time, and all the anger in his eyes has been replaced by a deep, profound sadness. "You know," he says, his voice quiet and hollow. "For someone who claims to be so good at reading people, you're really fucking clueless."

And with that, he turns and walks away. He doesn't look back. He just disappears into the night, leaving you standing alone on the sidewalk, the thumping bass from the party a distant, mocking heartbeat. The warmth from the alcohol has evaporated, leaving you cold and hollow. You wrap your arms tighter around yourself, but it doesn't help. You're not sure anything will ever help again.

The next few days are a special kind of hell. Silence. That's the worst part. The constant, buzzing silence where Jisung's laughter used to be. Your phone feels heavy and useless. You stare at your text thread with him, the last message being a stupid meme he sent you two days before the party. You can't bring yourself to type anything. What would you even say? Sorry I called you selfish and told you to go fuck someone else? It sounds hollow, even in your head.

You avoid the dorm lounge, the library, the coffee shop. Anywhere you might run into him or one of the guys. You exist in a bubble of your own making, attending your final classes and then retreating to the suffocating safety of your room. The unpacked boxes in the corner of your room seem to mock you, a reminder that summer is here and you have no idea what that means anymore. Summer has always meant Jisung. It has meant lazy days by the pool and late-night drives and the two of you against the world. Now, it just means a gaping, empty void.

A week later, the sky decides to open up and weep all over the city. You’re on your way to the storage unit to finally drop off the last of your boxes when your car, an ancient and temperamental sedan Jisung affectionately named ‘The Beast,’ sputters, coughs, and dies.

Of course it does.

You’re in the middle of nowhere, on a stretch of road lined with industrial parks and warehouses. The rain is coming down in sheets, so heavy you can barely see the hood of your car. The wipers are squeaking a pathetic, rhythmic protest. You try turning the key. Nothing. Just a series of sad, clicking sounds.

Panic, cold and sharp, starts to prickle at the edges of your calm. You pull out your phone, your fingers slippery with rain. You call Hyunjin. It goes straight to voicemail. You try Felix. He picks up on the fifth ring.

“Hello?” His voice is tinny and distant.

“Lix! Thank god, my car died and I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere and it’s pouring—”

“Oh, shit, that sucks,” he says, and you can hear the muffled sounds of a crowd. “I’m at this really lame family thing, I can’t really get away. Have you tried Changbin?”

“He doesn’t have a car,” you say, your frustration mounting.

“Jisung then,” Felix says, like it’s the simplest, most obvious solution in the world.

Your stomach clenches. “I’m not calling Jisung.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end. “Oh. Right. The fight.” He sighs. “Look, I’m sorry. I really can’t leave. Maybe try a tow truck?”

“Great idea, Felix,” you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm you immediately regret. “Sorry. Thanks anyway.”

You hang up and let your head fall against the steering wheel. The metal is cold against your forehead. You call a roadside assistance number. The automated voice tells you the estimated wait time is two hours. Two hours. In this. You stare out at the grey, water-logged world, a proper, miserable self-pity party for one.

You feel small and helpless. Hated. You’ve made a complete mess of everything. All because you were scared of a word. Love. What a stupid, four-letter word to ruin a decade-long friendship.

You don't know how long you sit there, wallowing in a slurry of anger, guilt, and misery. Time loses its meaning, marked only by the drumming of the rain on the roof and the occasional flash of headlights from a passing car that leaves you feeling even more isolated. You’re so wrapped up in your own head, replaying the fight on a loop, that you don't even notice the pair of headlights that pull up behind you, their beams cutting through the downpour.

You jump violently when a loud rap sounds on your driver's side window. Your heart leaps into your throat. You turn, ready to scream at a serial killer or a creepy trucker, and freeze.

It’s Jisung.

He’s standing in the pouring rain, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, water dripping down the bridge of his nose. He’s wearing a thin hoodie that’s soaked through, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He’s not smiling. He’s just looking at you, his expression unreadable through the glass and the streaks of rain.

For a second, you just stare at each other. He looks exhausted, there are dark circles under his eyes that match the ones you've seen in your own reflection all week. He gives a small, almost imperceptible nod towards the lock.

You fumble with the button, your fingers clumsy and cold. The door clicks open. He pulls it, the rush of cold, wet air immediately filling the car. He doesn't get in, just stands there, half-in, half-out, creating a small, temporary shelter from the storm.

“Felix called me,” he says by way of explanation. His voice is flat, devoid of any emotion. “Said you were being an idiot.”

You don't know what to say. Thank you feels too small. Go away feels too cruel. So you just sit there, clutching the steering wheel like a lifeline, unable to meet his gaze.

“The Beast’s dead?” he asks, nodding towards the sputtering engine.

You manage a weak nod.

“Figured.” He sighs, and it’s a weary, bone-deep sound. He shivers, a full-body tremor that he tries to suppress. “Pop the hood.”

You do as he says, fumbling for the latch. He leans out, expertly propping the hood open. He vanishes for a moment into the downpour, and you watch him through the windshield as he peers at the engine, his brow furrowed in concentration. He looks so out of place here, a boy of books and music and carefully chosen words, poking at the greasy guts of a dead machine. A wave of affection so strong it hurts.

He fiddles for a few minutes, yanking on a cable here, checking a connection there. He comes back to the window, shaking his head, water flying from his hair like a wet dog.

“Battery’s fried,” he says, his teeth chattering slightly. “And I think the alternator’s gone too. There’s nothing I can do out here.”

You just nod again, the lump in your throat making it impossible to speak. The silence stretches, punctuated only by the drumming rain.

“Come on,” he says, breaking it. “Get your stuff. I’ll take you back.”

You should refuse. You should tell him you’ve already called a tow, that you’ll be fine, that you don’t need him. But the lie dies on your lips. Because you do. You need him.

You grab your backpack and the box from the passenger seat, your movements stiff and awkward. He opens the back door of his car for you, placing your things carefully on the seat before closing it again. You slide into the passenger side, the warmth of the car’s heater a shocking, welcome sensation. The interior smells like him—faintly of laundry detergent and that specific, clean scent you’ve never been able to place.

He gets in, not a word spoken between you. The engine hums to life, a smooth, steady purr that is the complete opposite of your dead car. He pulls back onto the road, the wipers working overtime to clear the glass. The drive is suffocatingly quiet. You keep your eyes fixed on the passenger-side window, watching the blurry city lights streak by. Every muscle in your body is tense. You can feel the heat radiating from him, just a few inches away. The space between you feels both too vast and dangerously small.

You finally pull up outside your dorm building. The rain has eased to a miserable drizzle. He puts the car in park but leaves the engine running. The silence is back, heavier than ever. This is it. The moment where you have to say something.

“I can pay you for the gas,” you blurt out, hating how formal and stupid it sounds.

He doesn’t even look at you. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Jisung, I—”

“What are your plans for the summer?” he asks, cutting you off. His tone is casual, but you can hear the tension coiled beneath it.

The question catches you off guard. “Um, I don’t know. Work at the cafe, I guess. Take a couple of summer classes.” The words feel hollow, a list of empty activities to fill the gaping hole where he used to be.

He nods slowly, finally turning to look at you. The streetlights cast shadows across his face, making his expression impossible to read. “I’m going back home for a while. Help my parents with some stuff.”

Home. He’s going home. To another city. A three-hour drive away. It’s what he does every summer, but this year it feels like a final judgment. A sentence.

“Oh,” is all you can manage. “Okay.”

“Yeah,” he says, his gaze dropping to his hands on the steering wheel. “So.”

“So.”

You should go. You should thank him, get your stuff, and just go. But you can’t. You’re rooted to the spot, trapped by the weight of all the things you haven’t said. You look at him, really look at him. At the slope of his nose, the worried line of his lips, the way he’s rubbing at a spot on the steering well with his thumb—a nervous habit you’ve seen a thousand times. Your best friend. The boy you’ve known since you were both gangly, brace-faced seventh graders. The boy whose shoulder you cried on when your first dog died, the boy who helped you sneak out for your first high school party, the boy who knows all your secrets. Except the most important one. The one you were too scared to even admit to yourself.

"Ji," Water drips from your hair onto your lap. Without looking, you reach your hand across the vast space of the center console, palm up, fingers spread. "Will you hold my hand?"

He flinches, a tiny, almost imperceptible movement. His eyes flick from your outstretched hand to your face and back again, a war of emotions playing out in their depths. Anger, hurt, exhaustion, longing. He hesitates for a beat that feels like an eternity.

Then, slowly, he lifts his hand from the steering wheel and places it in yours. His palm is warm and a little damp. He doesn't lace his fingers through yours, just lets them rest there, a tentative, fragile connection. The contact sends a jolt through you, a current of warmth that chases away the chill that’s been living in your bones for a week.

You stare at your joined hands. His hand is bigger than yours, the fingers long and calloused in places from playing guitar. There's a small scar on his knuckle from when he tripped and fell trying to climb a tree to rescue your frisbee in tenth grade. You trace it with your thumb.

You take a shaky breath, the words bubbling up from a place you didn't know existed. "Forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabit."

He sucks in a sharp breath. You feel it more than hear it. He knows. Of course, he knows. It's Virgil. He looks at you then, really looks at you, and the anger in his eyes has finally dissipated, replaced by a profound, aching sadness.

"Maybe it will be a pleasure one day to remember even this," he translates. "Who's a pretentious little shit now?

A weak, watery laugh escapes your lips, half-sob. "Still you."

He huffs a small, humorless laugh. You take the opening with both hands. "Please don't go home."

"I have to."

"Why?"

"Because I can't do this," he says, his voice cracking. "I can't be around you and pretend it doesn't hurt."

"What hurts?"

His gaze is piercing, direct. "You know what hurts." His fingers tighten around yours, a desperate, pleading gesture. "You stand there and you tell me it's all just fun, but you jealous of a girl I was just walking to the door. You quote our poet to try and fix things after you shatter me. You're so goddamn confusing."

"I'm not confused." You snap. "I know what will happen if we do this, Jisung, I'm surprised that you don't."

"What happens? We get a happy ending? God for-fucking-bid."

"This is not a fairytale, Ji." You press. "I haven't ever seen a monogamous relationship last longer than three months. My parents have been cheating on each other for 20 years, yours are divorced, none of our friends have ever had a stable partnership."

"So what? Our failure is pre-determined because everyone else sucks?" He scoffs. "You use your parents as an excuse to not let anyone in. To not try for anything real."

"I am not using them as an excuse!" You pull your hand away from his, crossing your arms over your chest. "Why are you pushing for this so hard? Do you want to get your heart broken? Do you want to lose your best friend? Because that's what's going to happen. We're going to be miserable and then we're never going to be able to look at each other again."

"So what's the alternative?" He yells, his frustration boiling over. "We go back to being 'just friends'? We pretend this never happened? We ignore the fact that I am completely, head over heels in love with you? That I have been for ten years?"

The words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating. Ten years. Not months. Not since you started kissing. But ten years. Since you were awkward, brace-faced teenagers.

"I can't do that," he says, his voice dropping to a pained whisper. "I can't go back to pretending. So either we try, or we don't. And if we don't... then I do have to go home. Because I can't be your friend anymore."

The finality of it hits you like a physical blow. He's not threatening you. He's stating a fact. This is the ultimatum you never saw coming. It's not about sex or labels or even love, not really. It's about survival. He can't survive being near you like this. And you're not sure you can either.

"That's bullshit, Jisung, you can't make me choose, it's not fair." You say, your eyes are welling up with tears. This is the opposite of fun. This is messy and painful and it hurts.

"It's not fair to me to be in love with someone who will never love me back but won’t let me go."

You look at him, at the raw pain etched on his face. You think about all the times he's been there for you. All the times he's picked you up when you've fallen. All the times he's held your hand and told you it would be okay. You think about the tattoo on his ribs, Blessed. A blessing to understand the causes of things.

"I do love you." You say, the words feeling foreign and strange on your tongue.

He just stares at you, his expression unreadable. "No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"You don't even know what that word means."

"If you know that, then why do you want me to say it so bad?" You say, your voice raising again. "Why are you so determined to ruin this?"

"Ruin this?" He asks, incredulous. "This is already ruined! We've been ruining it for months! We've been tiptoeing around this thing, this massive, huge thing, and we've been slowly poisoning our friendship in the process. I'm not ruining it, I'm just the only one willing to admit that it's already on fucking fire!"

You can't take it anymore. The car feels too small, the air too thick. You fumble for the door handle, shoving it open and stumbling out into the drizzling rain. The water is cold on your skin, but it’s a welcome shock to your system.

You hear the click of his door opening and closing, and then his footsteps are splashing behind you. "Where are you going?" He calls out.

"Away from you!" You yell, not turning around.

You don't get far. He catches your arm, spinning you around to face him. You're both soaked now, your hair plastered to your faces, your clothes clinging to your skin. The rain is coming down harder again, but neither of you seems to notice.

"That's the problem!" He shouts, his face inches from yours. "You can't get away from me! And I can't get away from you! We're stuck!"

You're crying now, hot tears mingling with the cold rain on your cheeks. "Then what are we supposed to do?"

And then he's kissing you.

It's not like the other kisses. It's not fun or playful or tentative. It's desperate and angry and full of all the words you haven't been able to say. His lips are cold from the rain, but they're insistent, demanding. You kiss him back with just as much force, your hands tangling in his wet hair, pulling him closer. You're not thinking about the future or the past or the consequences. You're just thinking about him. About the feel of his body against yours, the taste of rain on his lips, the way he's holding you like he's afraid you're going to disappear.

Somehow, you make it back to your room. The keycard fumbles in your shaking hands, but you finally get the door open. You stumble inside, a trail of water and mud in your wake. The door slams shut behind you, cutting off the storm. You're a mess, dripping all over the floor, your clothes sopping.

He pushes you against the door, his body pinning yours, his lips finding yours again in the dim light of your room. His hands are everywhere, sliding under your wet shirt, his touch electric on your skin. You're both shaking, but it's not from the cold anymore.

"Jisung," you gasp against his mouth.

"Shut up," he murmurs, kissing you again. "Just shut up."

You don't argue. You let him silence you with his mouth, let the frantic energy of the argument transmute into a frantic, desperate need. This isn't about fun anymore. This is about claiming, about marking, about trying to bridge the chasm that has opened up between you with teeth and tongue and nails.

He rips your shirt over your head, the wet fabric catching briefly before it's discarded on the floor. His hands are on your skin, warm and firm, a stark contrast to the chill still clinging to you. He trails kisses down your neck, his teeth scraping against your pulse point, and you arch into him, a gasp tearing from your throat. Your hands fumble with the hem of his own soaked hoodie, pushing it up over his stomach, your fingers tracing the familiar, now-slick lines of his tattoo.

Blessed. The word screams in your mind. What a cruel, cosmic joke. This feels like a curse.

He shudders under your touch, lifting his arms so you can pull the hoodie and the t-shirt underneath off in one go. They land with a wet slap on the floor. He's beautiful. You've seen him shirtless a hundred times, at the pool, in your dorm, but it's never been like this. His chest is heaving, his skin glistening with rain and exertion. In the low light, the muscles in his arms and shoulders are starkly defined, a testament to the tension that's been riding him for weeks.

You want to devour him. You want to crawl inside his skin and stay there. The thought is terrifying.

He walks you backward, your bodies still pressed together, until your knees hit the edge of your bed. You fall back onto the mattress, pulling him down with you. He lands on top of you, his weight a welcome, grounding pressure. He pauses, propping himself up on his elbows, looking down at you. His hair is dripping onto your face, but you don't care. You just look at him, at the raw, open expression on his face. All the anger is gone, replaced by a desperate, aching need that mirrors your own.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice a low, rough rasp. "I need you to be sure."

You reach up, threading your fingers through the wet hair at the nape of his neck, and pull him down for another kiss. He lets you kiss him for a moment, a deep, slow kiss that feels like a surrender. Then he pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

"Words," he whispers.

The fear comes back, a cold snake coiling in your gut. Words are what got you into this mess. Words are what will define whatever happens next. But looking into his eyes, seeing the vulnerability and the hope warring there, you know you can't deny him. 

"Please," you breathe, the word barely a puff of air between you. "Please fuck me, Jisung"

It's not a declaration of love. It's not a promise of forever. It's raw, it's present, and it's the truest thing you can say in this moment.

A groan rips from his chest, a sound of pure, unadulterated relief. He kisses you again, hard and deep, and this time there's no holding back. His hands make quick work of the button on your jeans, and you lift your hips to help him pull them off. The rest of your clothes follow in a frantic, desperate tangle of limbs, until you're both naked, skin to skin, the heat of your bodies chasing away the last of the chill.

He touches you with a reverence you didn't expect. His hands map every inch of your skin, his lips following in their wake. He pays attention to the places that make you gasp, the places that make you shiver. He's not in a hurry anymore. He's savoring. He's learning.

He kisses his way down your body, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire. He lingers at the hollow of your throat, the dip of your navel, the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You're trembling, a fine, constant shudder running through you. You're so lost in the sensation that you almost cry out when he finally, finally puts his mouth on you.

His tongue is soft and wet and impossibly skilled. He licks and sucks and teases, building a tension in you that's almost unbearable. You bury your fingers in his hair, holding him to you, your hips arching off the bed. He's relentless, pushing you higher and higher, until you're a writhing, whimpering mess.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers. "My god, look at you."

You can't form words, can only make a desperate, pleading sound. He chuckles, a low, vibrating sound that sends a new wave of pleasure through you. He slips two fingers inside you, curling them just right, and that's it. The tension in you snaps, and you come with a cry, your body convulsing with the force of it.

He doesn't stop. He works you through your orgasm, his tongue and fingers never ceasing their movements, drawing out the pleasure until it's almost painful. Just when you think you can't take anymore, the building starts again, slower this time, deeper. It’s a different kind of tension, coiling low in your belly.

You feel a brief, sharp sting as he sinks his teeth into the soft flesh of your inner thigh. You gasp, not from pain, but from the primal, possessive thrill of it. He soothes the bite mark with his tongue, a soothing, apologetic gesture, before returning to his ministrations. He's everywhere now, his broad shoulders holding your thighs open, one hand splayed across your stomach to hold you down, the other pumping into you with a steady, insistent rhythm. He's completely focused, his entire being concentrated on this one task, on giving you this one thing. The sounds he makes are obscene, wet, hungry sounds that make your cheeks burn with a mixture of embarrassment and intense arousal.

You're lost in a haze of sensation, your mind gone blank, your body no longer your own. You're just a collection of nerve endings, all firing at once, all screaming for him. It starts in your toes, a tingling warmth that spreads up your legs, through your torso, until it engulfs you completely. You're no longer in your room, in your bed. You're adrift in a sea of pleasure, and he is your only anchor. The world dissolves into a blinding, white-hot light, and you're dimly aware of your own voice crying out his name, a broken, desperate prayer.

When you finally come back to yourself, he's kissing his way back up your body, his movements slow, deliberate. He licks the sweat from your skin, tasting the salt of your exertion. He hovers over you, his face inches from yours, his eyes dark and intense. He's breathing hard, his chest heaving. You can feel the hard, hot length of him pressed against your thigh.

"You with me?" he asks, his voice a raw, husky whisper.

You can only manage a weak nod, your body still humming with the aftershocks.

He reaches out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your sweat-slicked forehead. "You look so good when you come."

The words, so blunt, so Jisung, send a fresh jolt of heat through you. He kisses you then, a slow, deep kiss that tastes of you and of him and of the desperate, unspoken things between you. You can feel the desperation in him, the barely contained need. He wants you. He's wanted you for ten years. The thought is staggering.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Jisung," you breathe, a plea and a permission all in one.

"Do you know how crazy you make me?" he murmurs against your lips. "How hard it's been to keep my hands to myself?"

"Then don't," you say, your voice surprisingly steady. "Don't keep your hands to yourself."

He laughs breathlessly. "I haven't been. Did you miss the part where I've been eating you out for the last half hour?"

You wriggle your hips, brushing against his and he bucks, a choked gasp escaping him. "Must've missed the part where you actually fucked me."

"Impatient," He positions himself at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against you. He pauses, looking down at you, his expression a mixture of awe and terror. "Last chance to change your mind," he says, though you both know it's a lie. There's no going back now.

"Shut up, Jisung," you whisper, echoing his own words from earlier. And you pull him down for another kiss.

He enters you in one slow, steady thrust. You're so wet, so ready for him, that he slides in easily, but the stretch is still overwhelming. He fills you completely, a deep, satisfying ache that makes you feel whole in a way you haven't in a long, long time.

"Ohh, fuck," he moans, burying his face in your neck. "You feel… fuck."

You can't speak, can only hold on to him, your nails digging into the sweat-slick planes of his back. He starts to move, a slow, deliberate rhythm that's designed to unravel you. Each thrust is a question, a plea, a declaration.

You meet him thrust for thrust, your bodies moving in a perfect, primal rhythm. The room is filled with the sounds of your lovemaking—the slap of skin against skin, the wet sounds of your bodies joining, the broken moans and whispered words that are barely coherent but mean everything.

He shifts slightly, changing the angle, and he hits a spot inside you that makes you see stars. You cry out, your back arching off the bed. He takes it as encouragement, setting a harder, faster pace. One of his hands slides down your body, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing it in tight, insistent circles. The dual sensation is almost too much, a sensory overload that threatens to send you over the edge.

You'd wondered, idly, in the back of your mind, what this would be like. You knew he was experienced, had heard the whispers and seen the aftermath. A part of you, the petty, jealous part, had steeled itself for mediocrity. But this... this is something else entirely. He's attuned to your every response, every gasp and shudder, adjusting his movements to push you higher, to pull you apart. This isn't the clumsy fumbling of a college hookup. This is a masterclass, a symphony of sensation, and you're the unwilling, adoring audience. You understand now, with a clarity that's both thrilling and terrifying, why they always looked at him afterward like they'd just seen God. You're starting to feel it yourself.

He seems to know you're close, and he slows down, a torturous, deliberate withdrawal that leaves you empty and aching. He pulls out almost completely, leaving only the head of his cock inside you, then pushes back in, inch by agonizing inch. He does it again, and again, a slow, maddening tease that makes you want to scream. His thumb is still on your clit, a slow, maddening circle that keeps you balanced on the knife's edge of orgasm, never quite letting you fall.

"Look at me," he says, shuddering. "Look at me and I'll give you anything you want.”

You force your eyes open, meeting his intense, burning gaze. He's watching you, his expression a mixture of awe, possession, and a desperate, raw need that steals your breath. He's not just looking at your body, he's looking into your soul.

"Tell me what you need," he whispers. He slows to a stop, still inside you, his entire body a tense wire, waiting. He's giving you the reins.

You want to tell him to move, to fuck you hard and fast until you can't remember your own name. But the words get stuck in your throat. What you need is too big, too terrifying to say out loud. So you show him instead. You tighten your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and you surge up to kiss him, pouring everything you can't say into the kiss.

He understands. He always understands.

He starts to move again, a slow, deep grind that sends shockwaves through you. He's hitting that spot again and again, a relentless, steady pressure that's building the tension in you to an unbearable peak. His thumb on your clit speeds up, circling faster, harder. You can feel your body tightening, coiling like a spring.

"That's it," he murmurs, his voice a low, encouraging rumble. "Let go for me. Come on."

The praise, the raw permission in his voice, is what finally breaks you. The spring snaps. Your orgasm crashes over you, a violent, all-consuming wave that rips a scream from your lungs. Your vision whites out, your body convulsing around him, clenching and releasing in a rhythm that's beyond your control. You're distantly aware of him groaning your name, a long, broken sound.

He rides you through it, his thrusts becoming erratic, losing their rhythm as he follows you over the edge. But at the last second, he pulls out. You have a brief, confused moment of emptiness before you see him kneeling between your legs, one hand braced on the mattress beside your head, the other working his cock in quick, tight strokes.

You watch, mesmerized, as he comes with a choked gasp, spilling over your stomach and chest. The sight is primal, shockingly intimate, and it sends a final, lingering tremor through you. He collapses beside you, both of you panting, your bodies slick with sweat and rain and him 

You feel him shift, and then a warm, damp cloth is gently wiping the mess from your skin. Your t-shirt, you realize dimly, that you’ve been wearing not too long ago. You're too exhausted to even be embarrassed, you just hum your appreciation. He tosses the shirt aside, then pulls you into his arms, tucking you against his chest. His heartbeat is a steady, reassuring thump against your ear.

He kisses your forehead, your eyelids, the tip of your nose. He kisses your cheeks, tasting the salt of your tears. He kisses your lips, a soft, lingering kiss that's full of a terrifying, fragile hope.

"I love you," he whispers into the darkness of your room. The words are quiet, but they land in the silence with the force of a shout. "I have always loved you."

Sleep is pulling at you, a warm, heavy blanket. You can feel the edges of your consciousness starting to blur. His arms are around you and you can feel his lips on the tip of your nose, your lips, your jaw. He's warm. He smells like rain. He's not going to leave. It's all you've wanted for a week. It's all you've ever wanted, really.

"You won't leave, will you?" The words leave your lips in a mumble, your lashes fluttering. "You won't go back home?" You're too tired to be anything but honest.

There's a pause. "If you ask me to stay," he says, "I won't leave."

You open your eyes, heavy as they are, to look at him. You want to say it. The words are right there, a phantom weight on your tongue. Stay. Please stay. I'll love you. I'll love you the way you want me to. But your body betrays you. Your eyes drift shut, your breathing evens out. Sleep claims you, pulling you down into its warm, silent depths before you can give him the answer he's waiting for.

Jisung has watched you sleep for the last ten minutes. He has memorized the gentle slope of your nose, the way your eyelashes fan out against your cheeks, the soft, even puff of your breath against his chest. He has counted the faint freckles scattered across your shoulders. He has memorized all of it, and it feels like a goodbye.

He shouldn't have said it. Not like that. Not in the aftermath, when you were soft and pliant and half-asleep. He had promised himself he wouldn't. He had sworn he'd wait, that he'd be patient, that he wouldn't pressure you. But then you were underneath him, your eyes wide and trusting, your body opening for him, and the words had just… ripped out of him. An uncontrollable truth.

If you ask me to stay, I won't leave.

He waits.

He waits for you to stir, for your eyes to flutter open, for the words to come. Stay. He can almost hear it, your sleep-roughened voice. The thought is a physical ache in his chest. He imagines the relief, the pure, unadulterated joy that would flood him, the feeling of finally, finally coming home.

But you don't stir.

The minutes tick by, each one a small death. He can hear the sound of the rain outside your window, a soft, steady rhythm against the glass. He can hear the hum of the mini-fridge in the corner of your room. He can hear the frantic, desperate beating of his own heart. He thinks about the way your body shook around him, the way you whispered his name. He thinks about the taste of your skin, the feel of your hands in his hair. He thinks about all of it, and he knows he can't stay.

And that's an answer, too.

He has loved you like a dog his entire life, all he's ever wanted was to sit by your side, to eat your scraps, to just be near you. But being your dog, your constant companion is no longer enough. He can't sit at your feet and hope for a pat on the head while you look at someone else. Not anymore.

It was selfish of him to do this. To fuck you, to push you, to demand more than you were willing to give. He can see that now, in the quiet, grey light of the morning. He has just made everything a thousand times worse. He has taken your carefully constructed world, your "fun," and he has detonated it.

He can't stay and pretend that everything is okay. He can't stay and be your friend. He can't stay and watch you fall in love with someone else. He can't do any of it. He is a coward, he knows, but it's the truth. He has to leave.

Careful, so careful, he slides his arm out from under your head. You stir, a soft sigh, and your brow furrows, but you don't wake. He eases himself off the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, trying not to disturb the mattress, trying not to break the fragile spell of your sleep. His clothes are a damp, muddy pile on the floor. He gathers them up, pulling on his jeans with a wince. The denim is cold and stiff against his skin. He doesn't bother with the shirt, just balls it up in his hand.

He stands by the bed for a long moment, just looking at you. You look so peaceful, so unguarded. It's the most vulnerable he's ever seen you. He wants to crawl back into bed with you, to pull you into his arms and never let go. He wants to wake you up and demand that you choose him, that you choose this.

Instead, he leans down and presses a soft, gentle kiss to your forehead. He turns and walks out of your room, closing the door behind him.

He doesn't look back.

LEE LEEKNOW MINHO

Minho is a teasing sadist even when he’s losing control. He has you on all fours, one hand fisted in your hair as he fucks you hard from behind. Every deep thrust makes him groan, and instead of letting the sounds out freely, he leans down and sinks his teeth into your shoulder blade.

The bite is sharp and deliberate, meant to muffle his pretty moans. “Quiet… or I’ll bite harder,” he whispers, voice sweet but threatening, right before his teeth dig in again. He loves the way you whimper when he bites, the way your pussy clenches around him. He alternates between soft, teasing nips and hard, possessive bites that leave clear teeth marks.

He’ll bite the back of your neck, your shoulder, even the curve of your waist if he can reach it. Each bite is accompanied by a low, muffled groan that vibrates against your skin. When he’s close, his rhythm becomes punishing and his bites turn almost feral. He cums with his teeth sunk deep into your shoulder, groaning loudly into your skin as he fills you. Afterwards, he licks the bite marks almost apologetically while calling you his pretty kitten.

SEO CHANGBIN

Changbin is loud, intense, and completely unable to stay quiet when he’s lost in you. He has you bent over the edge of the bed in a deep doggy-style position, his powerful body completely covering yours from behind. His thick, muscular thighs slap against the back of yours with every brutal thrust, the sound wet and obscene in the room.

Every time his fat cock slams deep into you, hitting that perfect spot that makes your toes curl, a deep, guttural groan builds in his chest. He tries to hold it back, but he can’t. Instead, he leans forward, pressing his broad, sweaty chest against your back, and sinks his teeth hard into your shoulder. The bite is strong and possessive, his jaw clenching as he muffles a loud, animalistic moan against your skin.

“Fuck— baby, you’re so tight,” he growls, voice deep and rough, the words vibrating through his teeth into your flesh. His massive hands grip your snatchable waist tightly, fingers digging deep into your soft skin as he uses your body like a handle to pull you back onto his thick cock. The contrast is overwhelming. His huge, muscular frame against your smaller one, his teeth sunk into your shoulder while he pounds you mercilessly.

The position lets him hit even deeper, and his muffled moans become louder, more broken. He growls into your skin, teeth clenched tight as his hips stutter. He cums with a loud, deep, muffled roar, sinking his teeth hard into your shoulder as thick ropes of cum flood deep inside you. His whole body shakes against yours, muscles flexing as he holds you in place, refusing to let go until he’s completely emptied himself.

HWANG HYUNJIN

Hyunjin turns even something as raw as biting into something almost poetic. He has you riding him slowly, his back against the headboard, hands gripping your hips as you sink down onto his cock. His head falls back at first, long hair messy, lips parted in pleasure. But as the intensity builds and his thrusts become deeper, needy moans start slipping out.

He suddenly leans forward, burying his face in the curve of your neck and shoulder. His teeth graze your skin teasingly at first, then sink in with a low, breathy groan that vibrates against you. “You feel too good… I can’t stay quiet,” he whispers hotly before biting harder, teeth pressing into your soft flesh as he snaps his hips up sharply.

The bite is firm but graceful enough to leave a clear imprint, but never truly painful. He loves the way your body jolts when he bites, the way your pussy clenches around him in response. His long fingers dig into your waist as he uses your body to bounce you harder on his cock. Every deep thrust is paired with a new bite. On your collarbone, the top of your breast, the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder.

Then he'd moans against your skin, teeth grazing before sinking in again. His voice is breathy and beautiful, even when muffled. As he gets closer, his bites become more desperate, almost frantic. He holds you down on his cock with one hand on your waist while his mouth stays latched onto your shoulder, moaning loudly into your skin as he cums deep inside you. Afterward, he gently kisses and licks every bite mark, admiring how pretty they look on your skin while whispering how perfect you are.

HAN JISUNG

Jisung is loud, desperate, and completely unable to stay quiet when he’s inside you. He has you in missionary, legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks you hard and fast. His face is buried in your neck, hot breath fanning against your skin with every thrust.

Every time his cock hits that perfect spot deep inside you, a loud, broken moan tries to escape him. He solves it by sinking his teeth into your shoulder, muffling the sound against your skin. “Fuck— baby, you feel so good I can’t—,” he whimpers before biting down harder, teeth digging in as his hips snap forward desperately.

His bites are messy and needy, lots of small, overlapping marks all over your shoulders, neck, and collarbone. He can’t control himself. The harder he pounds into you, the harder he bites, using your body to muffle his loud, whiny moans. “I’m sorry— you’re too tight,” he whines pathetically against your skin, teeth still latched on.

When he gets close, his thrusts turn frantic and sloppy. He buries his face completely in your neck and bites down hard on your shoulder as he cums, moaning loudly into your flesh while filling you up. His whole body shakes against you. Even after he finishes, he keeps his teeth gently pressed against your skin for a few seconds, breathing heavily, before he starts kissing and licking the marks apologetically.

LEE FELIX YONGBOK

Felix’s deep voice makes his muffled moans incredibly sexy. He has you in missionary, body pressed close to yours as he fucks you with slow, deep rolls of his hips. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin.

Every time he bottoms out, a low, rumbling groan builds in his chest. He muffles it by sinking his teeth into your shoulder, the vibration of his deep voice traveling straight through the bite. “You feel so fucking good, angel,” he groans against your skin before biting harder, teeth pressing firmly into your flesh as he grinds deep.

His bites are sensual and possessive. He loves leaving a trail of marks across your shoulders and chest. The combination of his deep voice, his teeth on your skin, and his thick cock stretching you open is overwhelming. He’ll switch between soft, teasing nips and harder bites that make you gasp. “Can’t stay quiet when you’re this tight around me,” he moans, voice beautifully low even when muffled.

When he’s close, his thrusts become deeper and more intense. He holds you tightly and bites down on your neck as he cums, groaning deeply into your skin while filling you up. The feeling of his teeth and his low, vibrating moans pushes you over the edge with him. Afterward, he gently kisses every bite mark, his deep voice soft and loving as he tells you how perfect you felt.

KIM SEUNGMIN

Seungmin tries to stay composed, but you feel too good for him to stay quiet. He has you pinned beneath him, fucking you with sharp, precise thrusts. His face is in your neck, and every time a moan threatens to slip out, he bites down on your shoulder.

The bite is firm and teasing. “Can’t even stay quiet for me?” he mocks softly against your skin before sinking his teeth in again. His bites are tender, never too painful, but hard enough to leave clear marks and make you whimper. He loves the way you clench around him when he bites. “Pathetic… getting wetter every time I bite you.”

He keeps one hand in your hair, pulling your head to the side so he has better access to your neck and shoulder. His thrusts are relentless, each one paired with a new bite. When he’s close, he bites down harder, muffling his rare but beautiful moans as he cums deep inside you. And even that bite couldn't hide how desperate his moans are spilling ending up with his whole body rigid. Afterwards, when you tried to open it up with he'll act as if that thing never happened.

YANG JEONGIN

Jeongin gets surprisingly possessive and eager when pleasure overwhelms him. He has you in doggy style or spooning, body pressed close as he fucks you hard. His face is buried in the back of your neck or shoulder, breathing heavily.

Every deep thrust makes him moan, so he solves it by biting down on your shoulder. “Noona… you feel too good,” he groans before sinking his teeth in, trying to muffle the sound. His bites start a little shy but quickly become more confident and possessive. He loves leaving marks on you, clear evidence that he was there.

As he gets more lost in pleasure, his bites become harder and more frequent. He grips your waist tightly with one hand while biting your shoulder, using your body to pull you back onto his cock. “I can’t stop… you’re too tight,” he whimpers against your skin, teeth still latched on. When he cums, he bites down firmly on your shoulder, groaning into your flesh as he fills you up, making up pull his head up just so he could gasp the pleasure out. Afterward, he becomes very soft and clingy, kissing the bite marks gently while asking if he was too rough.

permanent taglist: @hime-honne, @dxllyhorror, @thepoeticpurplepotato, @verslyns, @channlust, @leewayout, @zosauce, @kloversung, @1-aria-1, @vxyselectric, @urfavleobiscuit, @written-by-music, @fanficwriter5, @minniebitesfr, @pedropacals0l0s, @iheartkentonanami, @ncityswrld, @danielle143, @persassyismysecrettwin, @trisha-dear, @pineapple-burgah, @luv4innie, @bunbunbl0gs, @marlboropuffs, @morgangrice18, @33peach33, @peskybirdysya, @ogerontheside4, @theyknowagus, @zerefdragn33l, @melodyladean, @ebnabi, @emeraldgem22, @fweakygyatt, @taekwondoe, @sue-reads, @shinygubbins, @lilmissfergy, @binniebb, @clairementsolo, @nclabels, @genuinelybrittleidol , @parkthothwa8, @daphnnie, @hyunnjynn, @sagetakami, @hanniesbubuwife, @hycnsung, @matzduo, @hwang97janet,

the bass from downstairs rattled the cheap picture frames hanging on the hallway walls. the smell of cigarettes and cheap liquor was strong, making your head feel lighter. laughter echoed from every corner of the house.

but none of it held your attention for long because your eyes were fixed on han jisung. 

he stood across the beer pong table with that stupid, cocky smile you wanted to wipe off his face, lazily rolling the ping pong ball between his fingers while the crowd around you shouted over one another. 

the grin on his face only widened before he tossed you the ball with an easy flick of his wrist, leaning back against the wall behind him, completely relaxed.

“last cup, baby,” he called, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. “you miss, you drink. make me proud and don’t miss your shot, jagi.”

his words were dripping with teasing flirtation, making you roll your eyes. even if the heat in your lower abdomen just kept building every time your eyes locked in his.

“you’re so annoying, hannie,” you teased, giggling at his offended expression. 

you glanced down at the ball, turning it between your fingers while focusing on the last red cup sitting alone at the opposite end of the table. 

and maybe it was the alcohol buzzing pleasantly through your system or the way jisung kept looking at you with that smug expression. either way, your thoughts felt hazy.

before taking the shot, your gaze drifted across the room, landing immediately on christopher. 

he was sprawled across one of the couches with a drink in his hand, surrounded by half the fraternity. one arm rested along the back of the couch, his legs spread comfortably, messy blond hair falling into his eyes. 

he’d been watching the entire game, his eyes never leaving you. he tilted his head slightly, that lazy smile on his face making your heart skip a beat. 

“watch this,” you mouthed, knowing he would read your lips.

without hesitating, your wrist snapped forward. the ball arced cleanly across the table before dropping straight into the center cup, beer splashing over the rim. 

the crowd roared behind you. one of your friends threw an arm around your shoulders before practically lifting you off the floor, laughing like you’d just won a championship instead of a stupid drinking game. 

before you could even catch your breath, jisung’s hand was wrapped gently around your wrist, pulling you out of the whole crowd. 

“c’mon, let’s get out of here,” he murmured, leaning close enough for only you to hear. “there’s less people upstairs.” 

you laughed, breathless. you knew damn well neither of you had any intention of talking. he intertwined his fingers with yours and started leading you toward the staircase before anyone could stop you. 

and right before disappearing into the hallway, you looked back, searching for christopher. as always, he was already looking at you with one eyebrow raised. 

you tipped your head toward the second floor, blinking with a flirtatious smirk on your face. the corner of his mouth lifted in that slow, knowing way that always made your knees feel loose. 

he barely nodded, letting you know that the message was received. 

the music faded with every step upstairs. the hallway felt strangely quiet compared to the chaos below, the music little more than a muffled thump beneath your feet. 

some doors were slightly open while others were locked, giving you a vague idea of what could be happening there. neither of you paid them much attention. 

with little grace, jisung pushed open the first empty room he found and slipped you inside after him. you kicked the door shut behind you, the loud slam echoing through the hallway. 

the second the door shut you were on him.

your mouths crashed, wet and urgent. jisung groaned into the kiss like he’d been starving for it all night, teeth catching your lower lip, sucking hard enough to sting, the sound vibrating against your tongue.

everything felt desperate, needy. his hands shoved under your top without ceremony, palms burning against your skin, sliding up your ribs until his thumbs pressed into the soft underside of your breasts.

“slow down, ji,” you mumbled against his mouth, a shaky smirk on your lips. your voice was already fading away, panting for air.

but he didn’t waste time.

jisung bent, palms sliding under your tights and lifting you like you weighed nothing. a small whimper slipped from your lips at the sudden movement, your legs wrapping around his waist on instinct, ankles locking at the small of his back.

the thick, clothed line of his cock pressed hard against your cunt through his jeans, the pressure relentless. you began to feel impatient, your hands roaming along his back, scratching loosely.

your body hit the wall, the impact forcing a whimper from your throat. jisung rolled his hips, slow and deliberate, grinding the rigid length against you, gasping and groaning obscenities. the friction dragging low moans and whines out of you, your thighs trembling around him.

“fuck, you’re driving me crazy. been staring at you all night,” he muttered, biting the side of your neck hard enough to make you whine. “let’s do something about it, yeah?”

with a grin on his face, he carried you to the bed and dropped you onto the mattress. the springs squeaked under your weight, bouncing. you pushed up onto your elbows just in time to see him crawling over you, eyes dilated.

he yanked his shirt off and tossed it aside, careless. his hands were quickly at your top, dragging it up and off, gaze dropping to watch the way your tits moved with the motion.

he reached for your bra next, fingers hooking the straps and pulling them down your arms in one slow drag. with a smooth motion he unhooked the clasp, throwing your bra far, far away.

both of you were breathing hard. you reached for the back of his neck and dragged him down into another kiss, messy and deep. jisung groaned against your mouth, the sound raw.

“fuck this,” he panted. “come here, baby.”

his mouth was on your tits before you could catch your breath. your face scrunched when he sucked one of your nipples, his tongue flicking fast and erratic, teeth scraping just enough to make your back arch.

“you sound so pretty,” he said, voice muffled against your breast. “wanna hear more of it.”

his free hand squeezed the other breast, thumb rolling over the stiff peak while his hips ground down on your crotch, seeking more friction. you could easily feel how hard he was, the thick ridge of him dragging against your cunt through too many annoying layers.

“ji- shit… please, s-slow down,” you breathed, finger twisting into his hair. your voice sounded broken, eyes blurred.

he left your breast with a short pop, leaving a deep, fast kiss on your lips before switching sides, sucking even harder. the wet sounds his mouth filled the small room.

you moaned loudly, biting your lower lip when you felt his free hand slide down your stomach, popping the button on your shorts and shoving inside. he dragged two fingers above your soaked panties, the warmth sending a sick thrill through him.

“mmmh- stop teasing,” you begged, your wet eyes looking at his.

“y’know your wish is my command, baby.”

he shoved his hand inside your panties right away, finding you already slick when he dragged his fingers through your folds. the amusement and arousal painted across his face.

it was too much, he couldn’t hold back any longer. 

he bit his lip before pushing two fingers in without warning. you moaned and whimpered loudly, hips jerking up to meet his fast paced thrusts.

jisung cupped one of your tits in his hand, pinching and rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. his cock throbbing inside his pants, screaming for attention.

“already this wet? we’ve barely started,” he teased, a pout on his lips. he pumped his fingers faster, curling them on every pull. “chris’s gonna lose his fucking mind when he feels this.”

and like you had summoned him, the door clicked open.

unbothered, jisung looked over his shoulder. that wide heart-shaped smile growing on his face when he found christopher closing the door behind him with deliberate calm, leaning back against it. your cunt clenched around jisung’s fingers, expectantly.

christopher’s eyes traveled over the scene: your bare chest, jisung’s fingers still buried inside you, the small tears threatening to roll down your cheeks any minute now. he smirked slowly, hungry.

“started without me,” he noticed, tilting his head. his eyes fixed on you.

you lifted your head, voice hoarse. “thought you’d never get here...”

his smile sharpened at your words. he pushed off the door and crossed the room quickly. his hand found jisung’s shoulder, squeezing once, firm, before sliding down to cup your face, squeezing your cheeks.

“missed you too, baby,” he left a peck on your swollen lips.

jisung pulled his fingers free with a wet sound, sitting back on his heels with his chest heaving. a satisfied grin on his shiny, wet lips. both of you looked at christopher when he stripped his own shirt off, revealing his toned chest.

he approached the bed with a couple strides, immediately reaching for your shorts, yanking them down your legs along with your panties in one smooth, fast motion.

jisung drooled at the view of your naked body, his hand caressing his crotch, feeling the sick urgency of being buried inside you. 

“want you on your knees. now,” his tone left no room for argument.

you slid off the bed eagerly, obedient. christopher sat on the edge of the mattress, legs spread. he tugged you between his open legs, unbuttoning his jeans and freeing his cock with ease.

it was already hard, thick, and flushed, the head glistening. you felt your mouth watering at the obscene sight. he wrapped a hand around the base, jerking it lazily with a smile on his face, his eyes never leaving yours.

his hand went to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, tapping the tip of his cock against your lower lip teasingly. your cheeks flushed violently at the shameless action.

“open your mouth, pretty girl,” he demanded, his fingers tangling in your hair. “want you to take it all.”

and you did without hesitation, desperate for the feeling of him fucking your mouth until your brain melts.

your eyes sparkled with excitement when his cock slid slowly inside, letting you feel every inch until the head nudged the back of your throat. the full feeling lit you on fire, the heat on your lower abdomen bursting.

“there you go,” he cooed, his thumb stroking your cheek. “just like that, good job.”

you watched him nod to jisung, who was almost in a trance watching the scene developing in front of him.

you could hear him unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans behind you, his warm hands brushing along your back until his fingers dug down on your hips, possessive.

a sharp inhale left you when he dragged you backwards until your ass was pressed against his dick. his hands caressed your thighs, pushing them apart gently, barely holding himself together when he saw your entrance willing for him and only him.

“gonna fuck you while you suck him,” jisung purred, voice bright and filthy. “ready for that, pretty girl?”

a small nod was all he needed. you sobbed aggressively when jisung’s blunt head nudged your soaked, slippery hole. losing your mind every time his free hand squeezed your ass, licking his lower lip.

jisung sank deeper, thrusting in hard until he felt the flushed head of his cock poking your cervix harshly. the stretch punched a moan out of you that vibrated around christopher’s length, making him hiss with pleasure.

“god… look at you. bet you’re dying for me to come in your mouth,” christopher hummed, smiling smugly. his grip on your hair tighter.

you nodded too quickly, too desperately. hollowing your cheeks, you shoved forward onto his cock, not stopping until your nose brushed the trimmed hair at his base. he petted your hair delicately, gripping your hair hard to guide your head in short, deep, controlled thrusts that matched jisung’s pace.

his hips stuttered, your gagging noises arousing him even more. the warm, slick feeling of your mouth sucking his length so eagerly dragging groans and whines out of him. he wouldn’t last any longer if you kept doing it this good.

“y-yeah, eyes on me, pretty girl,” he panted, biting his lower lip, frowning. “wanna see your cute face when i come in your mouth.”

your eyes were pinned on his aroused expression, fighting the urge to roll them back with every stimulus both of them gave you.

some tears started to fall down your cheeks when his thrusts began quicker, chasing his own orgasm now.

his hand gripped on the bedsheets under him, shutting his eyes tight when he started spilling into your mouth. hot pulses hit the back of your throat, making you choke with the big load that was sliding down it.

“shit- wanna see you swallow it,” he whined, releasing the grip on your hair slowly and pulling out his dick with a soft pop.

you did it, swallowing all of it with effort until there was nothing left. you opened your mouth shakily, peeking your tongue out for him. and christopher could just come right there just from that obscene image of you.

and even when you started panting for air, jisung didn’t let you catch a break at all.

the slow thrusts he maintained for a while started to grow a brutal pace, hips slapping against your ass, making it recoil. his smirk growing at the wet sound of your cunt taking him loud and obscene.

“mmh- so tight. made for my dick,” he panted, slapping your ass twice, making you cry loudly. “you must like being used like this, huh?” his voice was lewd, nasty. “our little frat house toy.”

his words hit somewhere deep and hot inside you, making your cunt clench around his cock even tighter. he reached around to rub your clit in tight circles, his fingers were relentless, slick with your arousal. the sensation of his cock pounding into you quickly unraveling you.

christopher caressed your face, shoving his thumb inside your parted mouth. your eyes darted at him, half-lidded.

“look at you, dripping down his cock already,” he mocked, drinking in every inch of your face.

“oh shit- you’re milking me so fucking hard,” jisung huffed, giggling breathless at your broken, incoherent moans. “be good and come for me, baby.”

your eyes rolled back when his pace became even wilder, messier. it was almost animalistic, making you whimper with each deep, erratic thrust. 

“it’s- s’too much, jisung…” you cried, your face scrunched, drooling over christopher’s fingers. “fuck, feel so full… mmh- so, so c-close...”

his free hand slid up your spine and fisted in your hair, pulling your head back further until your throat was exposed. he leaned in, leaving some open-mouthed kisses and sucking your skin before his teeth scraped the shell of your ear.

your legs went numb when your orgasm hit sharp and sudden, thighs shaking, a broken sound tearing out of your abused, sore throat. your whole body was shaking, your hands closed into fists while your head dropped down, shut your wet eyes close.

and jisung fucked you through it, his pace never faltering, until your cunt stopped fluttering around him. his hands brushing your back, soothing you until you came back from your high.

“oh shit-” his legs jerked, hips chasing you. “gonna cum inside you, fuck- you’re milking me…” he babbled, whispering low on your ear.

his whole body was shaking, overstimulated, his only thought being the feeling of your pussy gripping him desperately, completely soaked. his hands went to your tits, squeezing them and using them as support.

his cock twitched helplessly inside you, pulsing as he spilled deep inside you. his fingers dug into your breasts hard enough to leave red marks on them. it was messy, you could feel it leaking down your thighs already.

“you did a good job,” christopher praised, his voice warm, soothing. “shower’s down the hall. we’ll clean you up.”

jisung pressed a kiss on your cheek, way softer now, while pulling out of you gently. a wicked smile across his face when he saw the mess he created between your legs. he ran a hand through his sweaty hair, sighing loudly.

“then… we can go home and do whatever you want,” he blinked, sticking his tongue out a little, teasing.

you laughed, hoarse, and let them pull you upright between them after getting dressed up again. christopher’s arm stayed around your waist while jisung’s fingers laced through yours.

LEE LEEKNOW MINHO

Minho is a teasing sadist even when he’s losing control. He has you on all fours, one hand fisted in your hair as he fucks you hard from behind. Every deep thrust makes him groan, and instead of letting the sounds out freely, he leans down and sinks his teeth into your shoulder blade.

The bite is sharp and deliberate, meant to muffle his pretty moans. “Quiet… or I’ll bite harder,” he whispers, voice sweet but threatening, right before his teeth dig in again. He loves the way you whimper when he bites, the way your pussy clenches around him. He alternates between soft, teasing nips and hard, possessive bites that leave clear teeth marks.

He’ll bite the back of your neck, your shoulder, even the curve of your waist if he can reach it. Each bite is accompanied by a low, muffled groan that vibrates against your skin. When he’s close, his rhythm becomes punishing and his bites turn almost feral. He cums with his teeth sunk deep into your shoulder, groaning loudly into your skin as he fills you. Afterwards, he licks the bite marks almost apologetically while calling you his pretty kitten.

SEO CHANGBIN

Changbin is loud, intense, and completely unable to stay quiet when he’s lost in you. He has you bent over the edge of the bed in a deep doggy-style position, his powerful body completely covering yours from behind. His thick, muscular thighs slap against the back of yours with every brutal thrust, the sound wet and obscene in the room.

Every time his fat cock slams deep into you, hitting that perfect spot that makes your toes curl, a deep, guttural groan builds in his chest. He tries to hold it back, but he can’t. Instead, he leans forward, pressing his broad, sweaty chest against your back, and sinks his teeth hard into your shoulder. The bite is strong and possessive, his jaw clenching as he muffles a loud, animalistic moan against your skin.

“Fuck— baby, you’re so tight,” he growls, voice deep and rough, the words vibrating through his teeth into your flesh. His massive hands grip your snatchable waist tightly, fingers digging deep into your soft skin as he uses your body like a handle to pull you back onto his thick cock. The contrast is overwhelming. His huge, muscular frame against your smaller one, his teeth sunk into your shoulder while he pounds you mercilessly.

The position lets him hit even deeper, and his muffled moans become louder, more broken. He growls into your skin, teeth clenched tight as his hips stutter. He cums with a loud, deep, muffled roar, sinking his teeth hard into your shoulder as thick ropes of cum flood deep inside you. His whole body shakes against yours, muscles flexing as he holds you in place, refusing to let go until he’s completely emptied himself.

HWANG HYUNJIN

Hyunjin turns even something as raw as biting into something almost poetic. He has you riding him slowly, his back against the headboard, hands gripping your hips as you sink down onto his cock. His head falls back at first, long hair messy, lips parted in pleasure. But as the intensity builds and his thrusts become deeper, needy moans start slipping out.

He suddenly leans forward, burying his face in the curve of your neck and shoulder. His teeth graze your skin teasingly at first, then sink in with a low, breathy groan that vibrates against you. “You feel too good… I can’t stay quiet,” he whispers hotly before biting harder, teeth pressing into your soft flesh as he snaps his hips up sharply.

The bite is firm but graceful enough to leave a clear imprint, but never truly painful. He loves the way your body jolts when he bites, the way your pussy clenches around him in response. His long fingers dig into your waist as he uses your body to bounce you harder on his cock. Every deep thrust is paired with a new bite. On your collarbone, the top of your breast, the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder.

Then he'd moans against your skin, teeth grazing before sinking in again. His voice is breathy and beautiful, even when muffled. As he gets closer, his bites become more desperate, almost frantic. He holds you down on his cock with one hand on your waist while his mouth stays latched onto your shoulder, moaning loudly into your skin as he cums deep inside you. Afterward, he gently kisses and licks every bite mark, admiring how pretty they look on your skin while whispering how perfect you are.

HAN JISUNG

Jisung is loud, desperate, and completely unable to stay quiet when he’s inside you. He has you in missionary, legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks you hard and fast. His face is buried in your neck, hot breath fanning against your skin with every thrust.

Every time his cock hits that perfect spot deep inside you, a loud, broken moan tries to escape him. He solves it by sinking his teeth into your shoulder, muffling the sound against your skin. “Fuck— baby, you feel so good I can’t—,” he whimpers before biting down harder, teeth digging in as his hips snap forward desperately.

His bites are messy and needy, lots of small, overlapping marks all over your shoulders, neck, and collarbone. He can’t control himself. The harder he pounds into you, the harder he bites, using your body to muffle his loud, whiny moans. “I’m sorry— you’re too tight,” he whines pathetically against your skin, teeth still latched on.

When he gets close, his thrusts turn frantic and sloppy. He buries his face completely in your neck and bites down hard on your shoulder as he cums, moaning loudly into your flesh while filling you up. His whole body shakes against you. Even after he finishes, he keeps his teeth gently pressed against your skin for a few seconds, breathing heavily, before he starts kissing and licking the marks apologetically.

LEE FELIX YONGBOK

Felix’s deep voice makes his muffled moans incredibly sexy. He has you in missionary, body pressed close to yours as he fucks you with slow, deep rolls of his hips. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin.

Every time he bottoms out, a low, rumbling groan builds in his chest. He muffles it by sinking his teeth into your shoulder, the vibration of his deep voice traveling straight through the bite. “You feel so fucking good, angel,” he groans against your skin before biting harder, teeth pressing firmly into your flesh as he grinds deep.

His bites are sensual and possessive. He loves leaving a trail of marks across your shoulders and chest. The combination of his deep voice, his teeth on your skin, and his thick cock stretching you open is overwhelming. He’ll switch between soft, teasing nips and harder bites that make you gasp. “Can’t stay quiet when you’re this tight around me,” he moans, voice beautifully low even when muffled.

When he’s close, his thrusts become deeper and more intense. He holds you tightly and bites down on your neck as he cums, groaning deeply into your skin while filling you up. The feeling of his teeth and his low, vibrating moans pushes you over the edge with him. Afterward, he gently kisses every bite mark, his deep voice soft and loving as he tells you how perfect you felt.

KIM SEUNGMIN

Seungmin tries to stay composed, but you feel too good for him to stay quiet. He has you pinned beneath him, fucking you with sharp, precise thrusts. His face is in your neck, and every time a moan threatens to slip out, he bites down on your shoulder.

The bite is firm and teasing. “Can’t even stay quiet for me?” he mocks softly against your skin before sinking his teeth in again. His bites are tender, never too painful, but hard enough to leave clear marks and make you whimper. He loves the way you clench around him when he bites. “Pathetic… getting wetter every time I bite you.”

He keeps one hand in your hair, pulling your head to the side so he has better access to your neck and shoulder. His thrusts are relentless, each one paired with a new bite. When he’s close, he bites down harder, muffling his rare but beautiful moans as he cums deep inside you. And even that bite couldn't hide how desperate his moans are spilling ending up with his whole body rigid. Afterwards, when you tried to open it up with he'll act as if that thing never happened.

YANG JEONGIN

Jeongin gets surprisingly possessive and eager when pleasure overwhelms him. He has you in doggy style or spooning, body pressed close as he fucks you hard. His face is buried in the back of your neck or shoulder, breathing heavily.

Every deep thrust makes him moan, so he solves it by biting down on your shoulder. “Noona… you feel too good,” he groans before sinking his teeth in, trying to muffle the sound. His bites start a little shy but quickly become more confident and possessive. He loves leaving marks on you, clear evidence that he was there.

As he gets more lost in pleasure, his bites become harder and more frequent. He grips your waist tightly with one hand while biting your shoulder, using your body to pull you back onto his cock. “I can’t stop… you’re too tight,” he whimpers against your skin, teeth still latched on. When he cums, he bites down firmly on your shoulder, groaning into your flesh as he fills you up, making up pull his head up just so he could gasp the pleasure out. Afterward, he becomes very soft and clingy, kissing the bite marks gently while asking if he was too rough.

permanent taglist: @hime-honne, @dxllyhorror, @thepoeticpurplepotato, @verslyns, @channlust, @leewayout, @zosauce, @kloversung, @1-aria-1, @vxyselectric, @urfavleobiscuit, @written-by-music, @fanficwriter5, @minniebitesfr, @pedropacals0l0s, @iheartkentonanami, @ncityswrld, @danielle143, @persassyismysecrettwin, @trisha-dear, @pineapple-burgah, @luv4innie, @bunbunbl0gs, @marlboropuffs, @morgangrice18, @33peach33, @peskybirdysya, @ogerontheside4, @theyknowagus, @zerefdragn33l, @melodyladean, @ebnabi, @emeraldgem22, @fweakygyatt, @taekwondoe, @sue-reads, @shinygubbins, @lilmissfergy, @binniebb, @clairementsolo, @nclabels, @genuinelybrittleidol , @parkthothwa8, @daphnnie, @hyunnjynn, @sagetakami, @hanniesbubuwife, @hycnsung, @matzduo, @hwang97janet,

there are producers and songwriters who make hits and then, there is bang chan.

at only twenty-eight, he has somehow become one of the most sought-after producers in the country. inside the company he works in, his name carries an almost ridiculous amount of respect, and outside of it, artists from every major label fight for the chance to work with him, hoping his touch will turn a good song into a great one.

his schedule is packed months in advance, his email never empty, his phone constantly buzzing with texts from managers, artists, other songwriters and producers and friends asking for “just one more session”. and somehow, despite all of it, he never seems overwhelmed, if anything, he thrives on it.

chan loves people. he loves hearing new stories, bouncing ideas off strangers, learning things about someone and bringing them up weeks later. whether it is a rookie trainee nervously introducing themselves or a veteran artist stopping by his studio to complain about something, chan greets everyone with the same warm smile and easy laugh. 

he is the type of person who makes everyone else feel important, which is probably why everyone adores him. no matter how busy he is, and he is always busy, chan always finds time for people.

he has his own studio in the company, a little room on the fourth floor that has practically become his second home. half-finished lyric sheets cover every available surface and coffee cups decorate his desk like trophies. his keyboard is worn smooth from years of use and the speakers have blasted everything from orchestral demos to experimental hip-hop until two in the morning more times than he could count.

most people joke that he should just move a bed into the studio, and it isn’t entirely inaccurate. he arrives before almost everyone else and most nights he is still there long after everyone has gone home. but everyday before he goes home, he follows the same routine: saves whatever he’s working on, stretches until every muscle in his back cracks, throws on his hoodie, grabs his bag, turns off the light and then goes to the café that’s inside the building. 

officially, it’s because he desperately needs caffeine after spending hours buried in music. unofficially, well… the caffeine is only part of the reason why.

tucked inside the company’s lobby, there is a small café that stays open late to accommodate employees with late schedules. most people come for convenience, the coffee is surprisingly good and the pastries fresh, and it saves them from having to find somewhere else still open. 

chan had started going there almost a year ago and at first, it really had just been for the coffee but then, he had met you. now it has become the one part of his day he looks forward to more than anything else.

it isn’t subtle, at least not to anyone paying attention. his coworkers had noticed how he always volunteered to “make a trip downstairs” whenever they all wanted something. your coworkers had noticed how he’d linger at the counter just a little longer than necessary, managing to stretch a thirty-second transaction into a five-minute conversation, just so he could be there with you.

everyone knows he likes you, or everyone except you, as far as chan can tell. or maybe you do know and you’re just kind enough not to embarrass him. either way, it doesn’t stop him. every single night, without fail, chan finds himself standing in front of the café counter with a tired smile, pretending he is there for the caffeine when in reality, he is there because you are.

and today is no different. 

when chan leaves his studio, ready to go home, a couple of trainees hurry towards the lift with their bags slung over their shoulders, looking just as exhausted as he feels. he also sees a security guard who offers him a nod when he sees him.

“calling it a night?”, he asks chan.

he smiles, “trying to”

the guard laughs, “i’ll believe it when i stop seeing your studio light every single night”

chan chuckles under his breath before he waves goodbye and makes his way downstairs. the familiar smell of freshly ground coffee reaches him before the café even comes into view and he can see the warm lights spilling into the lobby, making the café feel almost cozy against the emptiness of the building. 

there are only two customers sitting by the windows, their laptops open in front of them. and behind the counter, you, wiping down the espresso machine and humming softly to whatever playlist the café has on tonight.

chan feels the corners of his mouth lift automatically because it doesn’t matter how exhausted he is, seeing you erases almost all of it. you turn around and find him there, staring at you. your face brightens into a smile that looks so effortless it makes his stomach flip every single time. 

“there he is”, you say.

chan walks over, resting one arm against the counter.

“i was wondering when you were gonna come today”, you tell him.

“well, seeing that i practically lived here… you could have come to see me before”

you tilt your head, pretending to think, “i guess so…”, you laugh then, which makes him laugh too, “so… the usual?”

“the usual”, he says as he nods his head.

“one large americano with one extra shot, no sugar, and…”

chan points at you, “very, very hot”

you roll your eyes with a smile before turning towards the machine.

“one lava americano coming right up”, you say.

chan watches you move around behind the counter with ease - you work quickly, but never look rushed. every movement is smooth, from grinding the beans to steaming the water and sealing the cup. then you walk back over and slide it across the counter towards him.

“extra hot”, you say as he grabs the cup.

the two words are delivered with the exact same tone every night. it had become an inside joke months ago and you said it every single time, without fail.

chan looks down at the cup before looking back at you, “you’ll never let that go, will you?”

“never”, you say as you shake your head.

“one day i’ll order it iced just to shock you”

you pretend to gasp, “i’ll refuse to serve it”

he laughs, “i don’t think you can do that”

“i don’t care, it’d be worth it”

he laughs again, shaking his head as he wraps both of his hands around the cup which is really hot, exactly how he likes it.

“so”, you ask him after a moment, “big project today?”

“how did you know?”

“you have the, i don’t know… “this that new pop” kind of face”

he snorts, “what? y/n what does that even mean?”

you laugh too, “i don’t know, but i’m sure you made a banger today”

he laughs again and then takes a careful sip of the coffee before signing happily.

“okay, you really weren’t kidding”, he says.

“what?”, you say.

“it is extra hot”

you cross your arms over your chest, “you asked for very, very hot”

“i know, but i think this could be considered plasma”, he teases you.

“you’ll survive, i’d hate to lose my favourite fan”, the words slip out before you can stop them and you try to take them back, but you can’t, “i mean of my coffee, fan of my coffee, because you like it and um-”

chan’s grin spreads slowly across his face, “oh?”

you close your eyes and groan, “don’t”

“i’m your favourite?”

“i didn’t say that”

“you literally did”

“i didn’t mean that”, you say, hiding your face behind your hands now.

“i’ll remember this day forever”, he says, placing one of his hands on his chest.

you shake your head, laughing despite yourself, “ugh, you’re impossible”, and then lower your hands so you can look at him again. 

he stays there for another few minutes, talking with you as he drinks his coffee, and when he finishes it, he looks around the café, seeing that there’s only you two there now and then he towards the front doors.

“i should probably let you finish closing”, he says.

“yeah, you probably should”, you say but neither of you moves.

he smiles at you again, “well…”

“well…”

“this is usually where i say goodnight”, he says.

“yeah, and i tell you not to work too late at home”

“and then i promise you i won’t”

“and then i pretend i believe you”, you say as you smile knowingly.

he chuckles before taking a small step backwards, “goodnight, y/n”

“goodnight, chris”

he turns towards the exit, makes it about eight steps and then stops. his heart is pounding so loudly he is convinced you can hear it from behind the counter. 

he’d spent weeks telling himself he’d ask you on a date and every single night he’d walked away thinking “i’ll do it tomorrow”. tomorrow became next week, and next week became next month.

if he doesn’t ask you now, he probably never will, so before he can overthink it, he turns around.

“hey”

you look up immediately, “what?”

he walks back towards the counter, rubbing the back of his neck.

“so…”, he says, and the confidence that everyone else always sees has completely disappeared, “if this is weird, you can absolutely say no”

your eyebrows lift slightly, “okay…”

“i was wondering…”, he says and then he laughs nervously, “shit, this is much harder than i thought it’d be”

“come on, you can do it”, you say, smiling at him.

the encouragement makes him smile too, “i was wondering if…”, he takes a breath, “if you’d maybe want to have dinner with me sometime”

for a second, the café seems completely silent, the espresso machine isn’t hissing and the music fades into the background. chan is convinced he’s forgotten how to breathe but then you smile at him and that makes every ounce of anxiety worth it.

“i’d really like that, chris”

he blinks, surprised, “really?”

“really”, you say, smiling even more.

the grin that spreads across his face is impossible to hide, “so that’s…”

“a yes”, you say.

“a yes”, he says as he laughs, almost in disbelief, “i was fully prepared for you to tell me you weren’t interested”

“oh, i’m definitely interested”, you say, giggling, and he swears that sound alone could make even the worst day worth enduring.

he looks down for a second, smiling to himself, “wow, okay, i- umm…”, he starts, trying to sound casual even though he is certain he is glowing, “you work tomorrow, right?”

“i do”

“the evening shift?”

you give him a curious look, “yeah”

he smiles sheepishly, “i already knew that, i might’ve… accidentally memorised your schedule”

you stare at him for a second, “accidentally? i’m gonna say that’s either really sweet or slightly concerning”

“i choose sweet”

you laugh at his answer, “yeah, i figured you would”

“okay, so… i’ll wait for you after your shift”

“you don’t have to do that, chris”

“i want to”, he says, smiling at you.

you can’t help but reciprocate, “okay, so it’s a date then”

his heart nearly stops, “it’s a date, yeah”

the words echo in his head like the catchiest chorus he’s ever written. you both stand there smiling at each other for another moment before you finally break the silence.

“you should go home and sleep, chris”

“i’ll think about it”, he says.

you laugh, “okay, see you tomorrow, chris”

he waves his hand, a little goodbye just for you, “see you tomorrow, y/n”

this time, when he walks towards the door, he doesn’t turn around, he doesn’t need to. he pushes through the glass entrance with the biggest smile he’s worn in months and his mind already racing ahead to tomorrow evening.

for once, he can’t wait for the next day to begin.

the front door clicks shut behind chan as he enters his apartment, the sound echoing like a signal that the day is finally over. he drops his bag by the entrance, his shoulders rolling back as he exhales a long, tired breath. he kicks off his shoes and pads straight towards the bathroom, already taking off his clothes and tossing them aside before he steps inside the shower.

water cascades over his broad chest and down the ridges of his abs, washing away the tension in his muscles. he washes his body starting with his arms and stomach, and then he moves lower, where his cock hangs heavy between his thighs. he gives a few lazy strokes to clean himself and before they turn into something more, he stops himself with a quiet chuckle.

not yet, he has plans for later.

once he’s done, he steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around his waist before heading to the kitchen. he prepares something easy and fast and then he eats standing at the counter, his mind already drifting towards what is coming next. dinner done, he cleans the plate and makes his way to his bedroom, grabbing his phone and closing the door behind him.

chan lets the towel drop and then stretches out on his bed, completely naked and relaxed. this is his ritual now, the one thing that helps him unwind completely. he opens the familiar page and scrolls past the endless thumbnails until his eyes land on the one profile that always stops him cold. months ago he’d clicked on her livestream by accident and nothing had been the same since. something about her pulls him in every single time. he has never seen her face, never heard her voice, but her body moves like it is made for his eyes alone. the way she touches herself, the way she seems to know exactly how to drive her viewers insane without saying a word… it’s hypnotic. 

he is about to pull up one of her older livestreams when a notification pops up on the screen and his pulse kicks harder. 

angelofyourdreams is live.

she is streaming right this second.

chan taps in immediately, his screen filling with her familiar setup and the chat already exploding with comments and donations. she is there in the centre of the frame, wearing nothing but a lingerie set that barely covers anything, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide her hard nipples pressing against it, dark and tempting through the material. between her spread thighs the lace is visibly soaked, clinging to the outline of her pussy lips, a dark wet patch growing as she shifts.

her hands move slowly, tracing over her own skin. her fingers slide up her stomach, cup her breasts and then punch her nipples through the lace. she rubs herself over her panties next, pressing two fingers against her clit and the wet spot spreads wider.

leethighs: fuck i’m stroking so hard for you right now

dirtypup: my cock is throbbing just watching you

quokkjone: wish i could bury my tongue in that pussy

chan can’t help but comment too.

midnightwolf: i’d fuck you so deep you’d forget your own name

his hand wraps around his cock then. he’s already half-hard just from watching her and the first firm stroke makes him groan low in his throat. he grips the base tight, his thumb swiping over the tip to spread the precum that had gathered there. on screen, he sees the girl taking her bra off and then hooking her thumbs into the waistband of the lace and peeling it down her legs until she’s completely naked.

her cunt is glistening, the lips swollen and shiny with her arousal, her clit peeking out from its hood. she spreads her thighs wider for the camera and lets her fingers slide through her folds, gathering her juices before circling her entrance. she pushes two fingers inside and then rolls her hips to meet them. chan matches the her rhythm, stroking himself as he watches her fuck herself on her own hand, adding another finger as her other hand stays on her clit, making her thighs tremble. 

aussielord: i’m coming already fuck

maknaeontop: your pussy looks so tight and perfect

artprince69: wish those were my fingers instead 

strongspear: i’d fill you up so much it’d leak out for days princess

chan’s breathing grows ragged and his hand moves faster, squeezing harder now. he can feel the heat building low in his gut, his balls tightening as he watches her fingers disappear inside her dripping cunt again and again. she arches off the bed, her body shaking, and he knows she’s close, and he is right there with her.

his stokes turn desperate, his hips lifting off the mattress to fuck into his own hand and then, the pressure snaps all at once. thick ropes of cum shoot across his stomach and chest while on screen the girl comes hard around her fingers, her thighs clamping together as her whole body shakes.

once her orgasm ends, she pulls her fingers out of her and then reaches out to end the livestream, the screen going dark. chan lies back against the pillows, his chest heaving and his cum cooling on his skin. a deep sigh leaves him, his body now loose and the tension from work completely gone.

as soon as chan enters the café, he feels his heart beating noticeably faster and he catches himself smiling before he even sees you. 

he had been distracted the entire day, not because of work, he always got that part done. he had been thinking about you and your date all day, and everyone working with him could see his mind was somewhere else that day. 

as he gets closer to the counter, he sees that you aren’t behind the counter. instead, there’s another barista cleaning up the espresso machine. she looks up the moment she hears chan coming in, her expression turning into a knowing grin.

“well, look who it is”, she says.

chan laughs softly, “hi”

“you’re not coming for the coffee today, aren’t you?”

“not today, no”

she leans both elbows on the counter, “so… you finally asked her out, huh?”

he rubs the back of his neck, “i did, yeah”

she nods her head and then points towards the hallway leading to the staff room, “she’s in the back changing”

chan smiles at her, “that’s okay, no rush”

“you look nervous”

chan looks away, “i am nervous”

she reaches beneath the counter and sets a glass of water in front of him, “here, for the nerves”

“thank you”, he says as he takes the glass.

a comfortable silence settles between them for a moment before she speaks again.

“i’m glad you finally asked her out”

chan looks up, “you are?”

she smiles warmly, “she’s really looking forward to seeing you”

his heart skips, “really?”

she shrugs innocently, “yes… but i didn’t tell you anything, it’s our secret”

before he can say anything else, the staff room door opens. chan turns to look and forgets what he was about to say. you step out, no longer wearing the café uniform he’d grown so used to seeing. instead, you’d changed into clothes that were simple and comfortable, and somehow they suited you perfectly. your hair, usually tied back while you worked, now frames your face naturally. 

you walk over to him as soon as you see him.

“sorry”, you say. 

chan smiles at you, “you don’t have to apologise”

“i made you wait”

“i would’ve waited longer”

the words come out before he can stop them and you smile, looking down for just a second.

“you’re sweet”, you tell him.

he scratches the back of his neck and laughs as he looks down, “i try”

your coworker watches the exchange with an expression that screams “finally” and then she claps her hands together.

“okay”, she says and you both turn to look at her, “i’m just gonna stand here and pretend that i don’t exist”

chan and you laugh and then he turns to look at you, “ready?”

you look at him and nod your head, “ready”

you both walk towards the door and he opens it for you, but before you can step out, your coworker’s voice calls after you.

“no show today, angel?”

you stop halfway through the door and look back over your shoulder, a small laugh escaping you.

“no show today, no”

she laughs and waves you both goodbye, “enjoy your night!”

“we will”, you say and then you both leave.

chan looks at you for a brief second.

angel?

that’s an unusual nickname, maybe it’s something your coworkers had come up with. it fits, he supposes. 

“i’m sorry”, he hears you say suddenly.

“for what?”, he looks at you.

“she’s nosy”

he laughs then, “it’s fine, don’t worry”

he opens the front door of the building, letting the air drift inside.

“dinner?”, he asks you.

you smile at him again, “dinner”

side by side, you step out into the night, completely unaware that the casual nickname chan has just overhead will stay in the back of his mind for longer than either of you could have imagined.

if someone asked chan the next morning how the food was, he honestly wouldn’t be able to answer, and it’s not because it’s not good, it’s because he just isn’t paying nearly as much attention to it as he’s paying to you.

the restaurant has turned out to be exactly the kind of place he’d hoped you’d enjoy. it’s modern with warm lighting hanging from the ceiling, wooden tables scattered across the dining area and the music loud enough to create a lively atmosphere but not so loud that people can’t talk.

one half of the floor is dedicated to the restaurant itself and the other is almost like a lounge. there’s a polished wooden bar stretched along one wall while groups of friends laugh over games of billiards, darts, table football, and arcade machines tucked into the corners. glasses clink together every few seconds and every now and then someone cheers loudly after sinking a difficult shot.

it feels relaxed and comfortable, and most importantly, there isn’t a single awkward silence between the two of you, not once.

“you actually did that?”, you ask him between laughs.

he laughs too, “i swear”

“you expect me to believe you accidentally sent the demo to the ceo instead of the artist?”

“it was one time”

you burst into laughter, setting your fork down before you drop it and then you hide your face behind your water glass. he smiles into his own drink because, god, this is so much easier than he’d imagined it was gonna be. 

for months he’d worried that, outside the café, the conversations would dry up, that without your coffee and his late night routines, you’d realise he wasn’t all that interesting.

instead, the hours keep disappearing. you’d talked about everything: your childhood memories, favourite movies, your favourite singers, the type of books you like, the movies you see.

now dinner plates have long since disappeared, replaced by two desserts sitting between you. you absentmindedly pick at yours while chan steals part of it.

“hey!”, you tell him, pretending to be mad at him.

“i’m hungry”

“you ate an entire steak, chris”

“i’m still hungry”

you shake your head, but he can see you’re smiling, “i can’t believe you”

“i will buy you another one”

“i don’t want another one, i physically can’t eat it”

“i’ll help you”

another laugh, another easy smile and another moment where chan finds himself thinking that this is the best day he’s had in years.

as you continue eating, your attention drifts for just a moment. most people probably wouldn’t have noticed, but chan did. your eyes wander towards the lounge section of the restaurant, specifically towards the billiards tables. a group of friends has just finished a game, laughing as one of them celebrates what seemed like an impossible shot.

you watch them for a second then quickly look back down at your dessert as though you haven’t been looking at all.

chan smiles to himself, “you wanna play?”

your head snaps back up, “what?”

he nods his head towards the billiards table, “billiards”

“how did you-”

“you’ve looked over there five times”

“i have not”

“yes, you have”, he says, laughing softly.

“no, i was just…”, you glance over again almost instinctively, “looking”

“so you don’t want to”

you laugh a bit, “it looks fun”

“then let’s play”

you look back at him, “i’ve never actually played before”

“so?”

a tiny smile tugs at your lips, “i… i don’t know how to play, chris”

he leans forward slightly, “you trust me?”

you meet his eyes for just a second, and then nod your head, smiling at him. 

“i do”

“then let me teach you”, he says.

there is something about the way he says it that makes it very difficult to say no.

“okay, fine”, you say.

his smile grows immediately, “perfect”

the waiter appears a few moments later with the bill and before you can even reach it, chan picks it up.

“oh no”, you tell him.

“what?”

“we’re splitting it”

“we’re not”, he says, getting his wallet out to pay.

“chris!”

“i invited you”

“that doesn’t matter”, you say as you reach for the bill but he pulls it away, then you reach again and he holds it higher, “chris!”

“what?”, he says again, laughing now.

you cross your arms, “this is not fair”

he smiles innocently, “i don’t see the problem”

“the problem is you’re paying for everything”

“i don’t see a problem there”

he hands over his card before you have another opportunity to protest again. once he gets it back, chan thanks the waiter before standing up and offering you his hand.

“come on”

you look at his outstretched hand for a moment before smiling at him and taking it. his fingers are warm but so are yours and neither of you mentions the fact that neither of you lets go immediately.

most of the billiards tables are occupied by noisy groups but one sits empty beneath a hanging lamp. chan lets go of your hand and moves to pick up two cues from the rack and hand one to you.

“i have absolutely no idea of what i’m supposed to do”, you say as you stare at it.

he laughs, “i know”

“i could hit you with a ball”

“i trust you”, he says as he laughs harder.

you look at the table before you look at the cue in your hands again, “okay”, and a nervous smile spreads across your face.

he steps beside you, already reaching for the triangle rack to set up the balls.

“professor bang”, you say.

“mmhm?”

“please try not to fail your first and only student”, you tease him.

he looks over his shoulder with a grin, “i make no promises”

he finishes arranging the balls into a perfect triangle, then picks up the white ball and places it carefully on the table before he turns to look at you.

“okay”, he says, slipping into the teacher mode, “first lesson”

you stand up straighter, “i’m listening”

“you’re not supposed to hold the cue like you’re about to fight someone”

you look down at it, “i’m holding it wrong?”

“a little”

“a little?”

he smiles, “a lot”

you laugh, “okay, show me how to do it”

chan moves so he can adjust his own cue first and then you move, trying to copy him as best as you can, keyword being trying. you try to copy his hands, where he puts them and how he puts them, one a bit higher and the other on the flat felt, with his fingers a bit open so the cue can slide through.

you keep doing it wrong and he keeps laughing at you, so loud that a couple at the next table glances over with amused smiles. he moves next to you to adjust your grip first, moving your fingers only slightly, then he gestures towards your other hand and you flatten your palm again on the felt.

“okay”, he says, “see? it’s not that hard”

you look down and laugh, “i guess you’re earning your title, professor bang”

he circles the table, studying the angle and then points towards one of the striped balls, “your goal is that one”

you follow his finger, “that seems very far away”

“you’ve got this”

you sigh and then lean forward exactly as he’d shown you, “this is harder than it looks”

“it is”, he says laughing.

“so why do people make it seem easy?”

“years of practice”

“great”, you say, “okay… like this?”

“yeah, now just… nice and easy”, he says, his grin widening.

you nod your head, looking at the ball, “nice and easy”

you move the cue forward and the white ball rolls far more gently than either of you expected, nudging the striped ball just enough for it to move towards the pocket before stopping a few inches short.

you look at it, “i almost did it!”

chan smiles, “that’s the spirit”

you look up at him with a proud grin that makes him laugh all over again.

“i think i like having my own personal teacher”

“oh really? but i’m expensive”, he says, walking towards you now.

“how expensive?”

he pretends to think for a moment, “one dessert on our next date”

you walk closer to him, your chests almost touching, “so you’re already planning a next time?”

chan’s smile grows, “i’m hoping there’s gonna be one”

your own smile answers him before your words ever could, “i think we can arrange that”

the noisy chatter from the other tables fades into a low hum as the two of you continue playing. the shots keep getting more and more difficult, but chan continues to tell you and show you how you’re supposed to do it each time.

“try this one”, he says at one point, stepping in close.

his chest nearly grazes your back as he reaches around to guide your movements. his hands settle over yours on the cue, warm and firm, adjusting your grip. you feel the heat of his body radiating through his clothes, the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the wood and felt of the table.

you lean forward and he moves right behind you, his body aligning with yours. his palms slide down to your hips to correct your posture, his thumbs pressing lightly into the curve  just above your waistband. you shift your weight and the cue slides forward, sending the white ball spinning before hitting the striped ball, which drops into the corner pocket.

“very good”, chan breathes against your ear, his approval sending a shiver down your spine.

the game progresses with increasing intimacy. every complicated shot brings him behind you again, his body getting closer to yours each time. his hands cover yours on the felt, guiding the cue with gentle pressure. when you miss a shot, he laughs softly and repositions you, one of his arms wrapping around your middle to steady your balance. 

his breath ghosts over your neck as he explains what you have to do, but his touch on your body speaks louder, moving lower and lower each time.

you both know the line you’re toeing and your movements grow bolder in response to his. you press back slightly at one point, your ass brushing the front of his jeans. chan inhales sharply, his grip tightening on your waist for a split second before he forces himself to focus on the game. 

he tries to think of anything else but your body is right there, warm and inviting. he moves his hips back just enough to create some space between your bodies, willing his cock not to respond, reciting the rules of the game in his head like a mantra.

another shot lines up and he steps in again, closer than before. his chest presses to your back as he adjusts your arm. you feel the solid line of him, the way his thighs bracket yours. the cue moves, you hear the balls clack, but neither of you tracks the result. his hand moves again, his palm flattening against your hip, pulling you closer to him.

you turn slowly in his hold, your cue still in your hand, your chest brushing with every breath now. the space between you shrinks to nothing. his eyes drop to your lips, dark and hungry, mirroring the way yours fix on his. the air thickens and you can feel his hand on your waist, his thumb stroking once in a daring caress, but before he can close the distance, you speak first.

“we should play another game”

chan nods his head, completely lost, his gaze still locked on your mouth as if he hasn’t processed what you just said.

“take me home, chris”, you continue, the suggestion hanging between you like a spark waiting to ignite, and at that moment, you both know you’re gonna get burned.

the ride home feels like an eternity, the heat from your earlier touches still lingering on your skin, both of you aware that the game has shifted from cues and balls to something far more primal, and that’s why once you close the door of your apartment behind you, everything detonates.

your lips crash onto his without hesitation, your hands pulling him closer to you. chan groans into the kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist to lift you slightly, pinning you back against the wall. your tongues slide together in a desperate tangle, month of pining after each other exploding in a hungry kiss. 

his hands roam your body boldly now, one sliding down to grip your ass and pull you closer, his cock pressing against your thigh through your clothes. you grind forward in response, your fingers threading into his hair to angle the kiss deeper, sucking on his tongue as the tension from the game finally unleashes in full force. your bodies move in sync, your hips rolling and your mouths devouring each other.

“bedroom”, he says between kisses, his voice already wrecked, “where’s your room?”

“down the hall, third door on the right”

he carries you there with your legs locked around his waist and your mouths still fused together. the second your door closes behind you, he pins you against it, your back hitting the wood with a soft thud. his hips rock forwards, grinding his cock against your soaked panties through your clothes, the friction sending sparks up your spine.

“you have no idea”, he says against your lips, his voice low and rough, “how long i’ve thought about having you like this”

you pull back just enough to meet his eyes, “is that why you watch my lives? so you can have filthy fantasies about me?”

chan freezes. his hands stay on your body but he pulls back an inch, his breathing hard and his eyes wide with sudden shock. you slide down until your feet touch the floor, then step closer again, pressing your body against his. your fingers trace up his chest as you look up at him through your lashes.

“chris… i’m the camgirl you always watch”, you say, watching the realisation dawn across his face.

“no show today, angel?”

angel.

show.

that’s what your coworker had said before you left the café. the username of the girl he watches is angelofyourdreams and he is sure that if he checks his phone now, there won’t be a livestream happening, which there normally would be, like every night. 

he stares at you, his chest heaving as the pieces click into place so fast you can almost see the moment it hits him. 

his pupils blow wide, his lips parting on a shaky exhale, but you don’t give him time to speak. you lean in and press your mouth to the column of his throat, kissing the hot skin there before dragging your tongue along his pulse point.

“i always knew you watched me”, you murmur between kisses, your lips brushing the shell of his ear, “your username, the way you comment… i recognised you the second you sent the first one, chris”, your teeth graze his earlobe, “and i find it so fucking hot that you’ve been watching me all this time. that you get hard for me every night and you’ve probably jerked off to my lives more times than you can count”

chan’s whole body jerks. his hand tighten on your waist like he is physically holding himself back from coming right there in his pants. a low, broken sound leaves his throat as your lips move lower, sucking a mark just above his collarbone while your hand slides down to palm the thick bulge straining against his zipper.

“all those nights you watched me finger myself, spread my legs, come all over my hand while you stroked your cock”, you continue, your voice a sinful whisper against his skin as your fingers work his belt open with deliberate slowness, “did you imagine bending me over the desk in your studio? fucking me in the café? making me ride you until i scream your name?”, you kiss back up to his jaw, then catch his lower lip between your teeth, biting down just hard enough to sting before releasing it, “show me, chris. show me every single thing you’ve ever wanted to do to me”

something inside chan snaps the second those words leave your lips. the realisation that you had known it was him all along, that you had watched his filthy comments night after night and then smiled sweetly at him in the café the next day, hits him like a live wire. his eyes darken and his jaw clenches as the last thread of control burns away. the image of you pretending to be innocent while you knew exactly what he did to himself thinking about you - or rather the camgirl - made something primal roar to life in his chest.

before you can react, his mouth crashes back onto yours with bruising force. his hands move with frantic purpose, yanking all of your clothes off until you’re both completely naked in the middle of your room. his cock stands thick and heavy between you, already leaking at the tip from how worked up he is. 

“on your knees”, he says, his voice commanding but threaded with raw need, “right here on the floor”

you drop to your knees without hesitation and the moment you are settled, his cock is right in front of your face. one of his hands wraps around the base, slowly stroking himself while the other slides into your hair, his fingers threading deep and gripping tight. he pumps his fist a couple of times, letting you watch the way his thumb smears the precum across the tip.

“i’m going to fuck your throat”, he says, “for every single time you knew it was me watching you. for every night you spread your legs on camera knowing i was stroking my cock to you. for seeing me every day and still pretending you were so sweet and innocent”, his grip in your hair tightens just enough to tilt your head back, “you knew and you let me suffer”

you look up at him through your lashes, your lips already parting and your voice trembling with want, “please, use me, chris. fuck my mouth however you want. i want it”

chan’s breath hitches and then he guides the head of his cock to your lips, rubbing the tip across them until they glisten.

“open”, he says.

you obey instantly, your tongue flicking out to taste him. he pushes forward slowly at first, letting you adjust to the stretch as he slides over your tongue and deeper. the hand in your hair holds you steady while the other stays wrapped around the base as he moves his cock into your mouth.

“fuck… that’s it”, he groans when your lips close around him, “suck me just like that”

he starts to move, letting you get used to his cock on your mouth. your tongue presses up against the underside of his cock, swirling around the tip every time he pulls back. saliva quickly coats him, making each slide wetter and filthier and he just watches your mouth stretch around him with hungry eyes, as your eyes roll back.

“i’ve been dreaming about this”; he says as his hips roll forward a little harder, “look at you, on your knees for me”

he pushes deeper on the next thrust, the head of his cock brushing the back of your throat. you gag softly, some tears rolling down your face, but you don’t pull away, and the sight makes him curse under his breath.

“fuck… you’re so fucking perfect”, he says, his voice strained, “taking it so well. breathe through your nose, baby. let me in”

he holds your head gently but firmly and thrusts again, this time sinking until your nose nearly touches his stomach. more tears spill down your cheeks from the pressure, but the heat in his gaze only intensifies. he pulls back, letting you gasp for air, making strings of spit connect your lips to his cock and then he pushes in again. 

he continues fucking your mouth and every time he hits the back of your throat you swallow around him, the tight squeeze making his thighs tremble. his hand in your hair never hurts, just keeps you there, exactly where he wants you.

“that’s it, y/n… just like that. suck harder- fuck, yes”, his voice cracks on the last word when you hollow your cheeks and take him deeper on your own.

you keep your eyes on him, watching the way his abs flex and his jaw goes slack with pleasure. he is so hard it almost hurts, the veins of his cock pulsing against your tongue.

“i-i’m gonna come”, he warns you, “want it in your mouth?”

you moan around him in answer and then he thrusts faster, chasing his release, the hand in your hair tightening as his control finally fails. with a broken groan, he buries himself as deep as he can and comes hard. his cum floods your mouth, hot and heavy, some of it spilling from the corners of your lips, dripping down your chin because there is simply too much.

he keeps thrusting through it, riding out every wave while you swallow what you can, the rest leaking messily down your throat and onto your chest and nipples. his whole body shakes with the force of it, a wrecked sound leaving his chest as he finally slows, still holding your head gently.

he pulls out slowly, his cock twitching and a final bead of cum dripping from the tip onto your tongue. you look up at him, your lips swollen, your chin shiny with his cum and your eyes glassy, and he lets out a shaky exhale at the sight. he then slides his arms and pulls you up against him. he starts kissing you again, tasting his own cum on your tongue. 

he walks you backwards without breaking the kiss, guiding you until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed. you sit down on the mattress and he sinks to his knees between your spread thighs. he moves to your collarbone, pressing slow and open-mouthed kisses along your skin.

his tongue moves lower, finding the streaks of his cum that had dripped onto your chest. he licks your nipples, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth and cleaning every drop with his tongue, making your back arch, before he moves to the other nipple.

“f-fuck… chris”, you moan as you try to move closer to him.

his lips move lower again, over the curve of your stomach. then he moves you just enough to have your feet planted on the floor while your back rests flat on the bed, the position leaving you completely open for him. 

chan’s tongue drags a stripe from your entrance to your clit, before he seals his lip around it and sucks. a broken moan tears from your throat as he licks and sucks you, each of them perfectly timed to keep you hovering right on the edge without tipping over. his tongue flicks rapidly over your clit for a few seconds then slows to long and lazy strokes that have you grinding down against his face.

“chris- please”, you gasp as your fingers move to his hair, “more. i-i need more”

he hums against you and then one of his fingers slides through your folds, gathering your juices before he presses it inside, then adds a second finger. his mouth stays on your clit, sucking and licking and driving you insane. every time your walls started to flutter around his fingers, he stops, pulling back just enough that the orgasm slips away again.

“fuck, you taste even better than i imagined”, he says against your soaked cunt, “i could stay here for hours”, he says as he licks another slow stripe, then sucks your clit between his plump lips.

your hips buck hard but he holds you down with one strong hand across your lower belly. you are shaking, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure.

“please, chris, please let me come. i can’t take it anymore”

he answers you by thrusting his fingers deeper while his tongue works on your clit. the pressure builds again, hotter and sharper than before, your thighs shaking around his head, but just as you feel yourself about to tip over, he slows once more, keeping you right on the precipice.

“i’m begging you”, you sob, your hips twitching uselessly against his hold, “let me come, p-please”

chan groans low in his throat and he finally gives in. his fingers curl hard against that perfect spot that makes you stop breathing while his mouth sucks your clit harder and you finally hurtle over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you. your walls clench around his fingers and he doesn’t stop, he keeps licking and sucking and fingering you until your legs are shaking uncontrollably and broken little cries spill from your lips. 

he presses one last gentle kiss to your oversensitive clit before he pulls his fingers free. he looks up at you from between your thighs, his lips shiny and his eyes dark with satisfaction. your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, the aftershocks still rippling through you.

his hands slide beneath your body, lifting you as he rises from his knees. he moves you further onto the bed, lying you down properly with your head on the pillows before he climbs over you. his body covers yours completely, skin pressed to skin, and his mouth finds yours again. your hands roam everywhere, over the hard planes of his shoulders, down the flexing muscles of his back, on his neck, moving to his ass to pull him closer to you.

“i wanted this so badly”, he says against you lips, “i couldn’t stop thinking about you”

your hands keep exploring, your fingers tracing every muscle and your nails scraping down his sides until he shivers. the kiss grows messier, your tongues chasing each other while your bodies rock together in small and needy movements.

suddenly, you press your hands against chan’s chest and push him. he lets you roll him onto his back without resistance, letting you straddle his hips as you lay on top of him now. your hands stay on his chest, pinning him down while you look at him with a wicked little smile.

“you’re not the only one who’s had fantasies”, you tell him, your voice low and husky, “i’ve thought about you for months. about how it would feel to just sit on your cock and keep you inside me, warming you while you throb and ache”

his eyes widen at your words.

cock warming.

his cock jerks hard against your ass at the image, already swelling again, but at the same time, he’s not sure if he’s gonna last, he thinks the image alone could make him come there and then. 

“shit- wait, i don’t know if i can-”, he says, his voice rough with sudden desperation, but you cut him off with a kiss.

your tongue pushes into his mouth and you nip at his bottom lip before releasing him, “shh, it’s my turn now”

you shift up on your knees, reaching between your bodies to wrap your fingers around his cock. you drag the head through your folds, coating him in your arousal before lining him up. you start pushing him inside you, both of you moaning at the same time. you sink down slowly, taking him inch by inch until your ass meets his hips and he is buried inside you. the stretch burns so good you have to pause, breathing hard, feeling every throb of him against your inner walls. 

“please, m-move”, chan begs you, his voice cracking as his hands move to your hips, his fingers digging in, “fuck- you feel so tight. please ride me”

you shake your head, staying perfectly still, clenching around him deliberately before you lean down to kiss along his jaw.

“you know, i’ve imagined this exact moment a lot of times”, you say as your lips brush his ear, “i’d use my fingers and pretend they were your cock, just feeling them inside me like this. but it wasn’t what i wanted, i wanted to feel you get harder and harder until you couldn’t take it anymore”

he groans, his hips moving upwards, but you press down harder, keeping him pinned there.

“i also fantasised about waking up with you already inside me”, you continue, your voice breathy, “about you filling me up in the middle of the night and just staying there, your cock throbbing while i clenched around you. we could try that another day if you want”

you can feel him swelling even more inside you, the head of his cock pressing deeper with every word you say. his breathing turns ragged, his chest heaving under your hands.

“y/n, please… i-i’m gonna come if you don’t move”, he says, his voice strained.

you finally start to move, slowly, very slowly, lifting just a bit before sinking back down. the drag of him against your walls makes you both moan. your clit brushes against the base of his cock with every move, sending sparks through your core. 

chan’s grip tightens on your hips, “faster, p-please, go faster”, he begs you, his eyes glassy with need.

you give him what he wants and pick up the pace until your thighs burn and the wet sounds of your bodies fill the room. his hand slides between you, his thumb finding your swollen clit and rubbing circles that make your vision blur. 

you fall forward on his chest, your mouths crashing together in a kiss while your hips keep moving and you keep swallowing each other’s moans as the pleasure builds higher.

“fuck, i’m… i’m close”, chan gasps against your lips, his fingers working your clit faster while his other hand moves to your ass, helping you move on top of him.

you clench around him hard, riding him with quick and shallow rolls that drag your clit against his skin with every thrust. his cock pulses inside you, thick and hot, and the feeling pushes you right to the edge.

“come with me, chris”, you whisper, your voice breaking, “fill me up, please”

the orgasms hit both of you at once. your walls clamp down around him while he thrusts up hard, burying himself deep as he spills inside you. his cum fills your cunt, mixing with your own juices as you shake on top of him. the kiss turns sloppy, all tongue and desperate sounds while your bodies shake together through every wave. you stay locked like that, trembling as the room spins around you. 

his cock still pulses faintly inside your cunt, the warm mix of your juices and his cum leaking out around his softening cock with every tiny shift. you move your head just enough to look at him and brush some strands of hair from his forehead with gentle fingers.

“you okay, chris?”, you whisper, your voice hoarse from all the moaning.

he nods, a lazy smile tugging at his lips as his hands slide up your back in soothing strokes, “yeah… more than okay. you?”

you nod your head, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone before nuzzling into his neck. slowly, you begin to move again, but this time it’s tender. you rock your hips in gentle circles, feeling his cock twitch and start to stir once more inside you, but you keep it unhurried, savouring the connection.

chan groans softly and moves you so he can kiss you again. you melt into the kiss, your hands cupping his face as you suck gently on his lower lip, the kiss turning wet and sensual, your mouths parting and reconnecting with soft sighs.

his hands roam your body again, palming your breasts and rolling your nipples between his fingers until they’re hard again, then they slide down your body to grip your ass cheeks and spread them slightly, letting more of his cum drip from your cunt onto his balls. you clench around him again, drawing a low moan from his throat that vibrates against your lips.

he breaks the kiss first, pulling back just enough to look at you with a dazed and incredulous expression, before a soft laugh escapes him, rumbling through his chest beneath your palms.

“i can’t believe all this time it was you”, he says, his voice still rough, “months of wanting you and also jerking off to those streams, imagining exactly this, with you”

you laugh too, a bright and breathless sound that makes your cunt flutter around his cock.

“surprise”, you say, teasing him, leaning in to capture his mouth again, your tongue dancing with his as your hips give another lazy roll, grinding your clit against the base of his cock.

he breaks the kiss again, “when you said yesterday i was your favourite fan… you meant the livestreams?”, he asks you suddenly, a shocked look on his face.

you laugh again, pulling him back into the kiss without answering directly at first, just your lips parting his and your tongues sliding together as you suck on his tongue like you want to devour every reaction. the make-out turns even slower, more intimate, full of nips and licks along his jaw, your neck, your teeth grazing his earlobe while your walls still squeeze his cock inside you.

you break the kiss this time, pulling back just enough to trace lazy patterns over this chest with your fingertips, circling his nipples before dragging lower across his abs, feeling them tense under your touch. you bite your lip, your eyes locked on his as you feel the head of his cock pressing insistently against your cervix with every subtle shift.

“so… are you ready to show me some more of those fantasies that you have?”, you say as you clench around him again, feeling every vein and throb of his cock inside you.

chan leans up closer, his hands tightening on your waist as his eyes darken with renewed hunger.

“i’m more than ready”, he growls against your lips before kissing you again, his tongue pushing in as you feel his cock swell fully hard once more inside you, already twitching with fresh need and ready to fuck you through every fantasy you’ve both been holding back.

a/n: and with that the event is done!!!! thank you all so much for reading, i really hope you liked the stories and thank you again for all your love and support 🩷

the library

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dividers by my darling @lariesographic 🩷