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.

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No, your hesitation comes from somewhere less glamorous. It may sound silly, but the truth is you're terrified of needles. Just the sight of them, tiny, sharp, precise, makes your stomach twist. Watching someone else get inked doesn't help; it's as if the needle is tracing your skin instead, poking you over and over in a slow, relentless rhythm.

"Yes, Y/N," Chaeyoung says firmly, grabbing your shoulders to plant you in front of the chair. Her eyes are sharp but encouraging. "We need to do this. You need to do this."

Her certainty makes your chest tighten, but somewhere beneath the anxiety, there's a flicker of excitement too. The kind that whispers maybe, just maybe, you'll survive this, and maybe even enjoy it.

"Is it... painful?" you ask, your voice laced with uncertainty as you shift in the chair, fingers gripping the edge like it might somehow steady your nerves.

Chaeyoung lets out a slow breath before spinning the swivel chair, forcing you to face the mirror. Your reflection stares back at you, tense, hesitant, already regretting every decision that led you here.

"It is painful," she admits, tilting her head as if assessing just how close you are to bolting. Then, a grin slowly creeps onto her face. "But definitely not as painful as that little BDSM escapade you had with your ex-boyfriend."

"Hey!" you shoot back, heat rushing to your face as you straighten in your seat. "That was one time!"

Chaeyoung raises a brow, clearly unconvinced, her smirk widening. "Yeah... and if I remember correctly, you didn't exactly hate it."

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. "Can we not bring that up right now? I'm already on the verge of passing out."

She only laughs, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze despite the teasing. "Relax. If you survived that, you can survive this."

Your bickering with Chaeyoung is abruptly cut short when a man approaches the two of you, his presence impossible to ignore. He's... buff, to say the least—broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his black tank top, muscles shifting effortlessly beneath it with every step he takes. The tight leather pants he's wearing leave very little to the imagination, and for a split second, you nearly choke on your own spit, caught completely off guard.

Your gaze flickers, unintentionally, involuntarily—taking in the details. His arms are covered in bold, intricate tattoos, ink winding up and down his skin like stories waiting to be told. But what really captures your attention is the glimpse of ink just beneath the collar of his tank top, a tattoo peeking out from his chest, teasing just enough to make you wonder how far it goes.

"Hanji! Finally," Chaeyoung exclaims, her tone instantly shifting, bright and familiar as she steps forward to greet him. She pulls him into a quick embrace, like this is a reunion she's been waiting for, before pulling back with an easy grin.

You're left where you are, still seated, still processing, as the two of them turn toward you together.

"Is she the one having the session today?" he asks, his voice smooth as his gaze finally settles on you.

You press your lips together, momentarily caught off guard. Somehow, you hadn't expected this, hadn't imagined that he would be the artist. There's something almost disarming about him, something that doesn't quite match the image you had in your head. His eyes, wide, bright, almost boyish that catches the light in a way that makes them seem softer than they should be. Boba eyes, your mind helpfully supplies, and it only throws you off more.

Then he smiles.

It's gentle, almost playful, his gums peeking slightly as his lips curve into a distinct heart shape. The kind of smile that feels warm, approachable, dangerously easy to trust. If it weren't for the tattoos covering his arms, crawling up his skin in bold, intricate patterns, you might have mistaken him for something entirely different.

"Han Jisung, by the way," he adds, stepping closer as he offers his hand.

Your eyes flicker down to it before you can stop yourself. Even his fingers are inked, delicate lines and tiny details etched into places that make your stomach twist just thinking about the needle pressing into them. You wince internally, imagining the pain it must have taken to sit through all of that.

"Y/N," you reply, keeping it simple as you reach out to shake his hand.

His grip is warm, firm but not overwhelming—and somehow, that makes everything feel a little more real.

"That's a pretty name," he says, beaming at you like it's the most natural thing in the world to say, like compliments just slip off his tongue without a second thought.

For a moment, you don't quite know how to respond. Before you can even process it, Chaeyoung suddenly lets out a loud, exaggerated cough, the kind that's far too deliberate to be real. It startles both of you, breaking whatever quiet moment had settled between you and Jisung.

You turn your head toward her, only to find her already side-eyeing you with a knowing look—one that makes heat creep up the back of your neck.

"Anyway," she cuts in, dragging the word out as she straightens, "No, she's not. She's just here to accompany me." She gestures lazily in your direction before flashing Jisung a grin. "And then maybe she'll change her mind and finally schedule her first session."

Your eyes widen slightly at that, but before you can protest, she continues, completely unfazed.

"Maybe you could help her with that?" Chaeyoung adds, her tone turning almost too innocent to be believable. "You see, this friend of mine is terrified of needles."

You shoot her a look, somewhere between betrayal and disbelief, but she only shrugs, clearly enjoying this far more than she should. Meanwhile, Jisung's attention shifts back to you, curiosity flickering in his expression, like this just became a challenge he didn't know he wanted.

And suddenly, you're very aware of the chair behind you.

"Oh?" Jisung quips, one brow lifting slightly as his lips curl into an amused smile. "Are you?"

A heavy sigh slips past your lips before you can stop it, your shoulders sinking just a little as you reluctantly accept the situation your friend has so eagerly thrown you into.

"Well..." you start, shifting your weight and glancing anywhere but directly at him, "you could say that." Your fingers fidget absentmindedly in your lap, betraying the nerves you're trying to hide. "I'm not really on good terms with... any kind of needles."

The admission hangs there, awkward and honest, and you risk a glance back at him, half-expecting teasing, half-preparing to defend yourself.

"And Jisung here actually has very caring hands," Chaeyoung interjects, far too quickly, like she's been waiting for the perfect moment to say it. The smile on her face is unmistakable—teasing, knowing, and just a little too pleased with herself. "You wouldn't feel a thing if he's the one doing your session."

You snap your head toward her, eyes narrowing in suspicion as her words fully register.

"Are you trying to sell me out?" you ask, half incredulous, half accusing, your voice laced with disbelief.

Chaeyoung only shrugs, completely unapologetic, her grin widening as she crosses her arms. "I prefer to think of it as... helping you expand your horizons."

A quiet chuckle slips from Jisung beside her, low and amused, like he's enjoying the exchange far more than he should. When you glance at him, you catch the way his eyes flicker between the two of you, curiosity and something softer lingering there.

"Hey," he says lightly, raising his hands in mock surrender, though the smile never quite leaves his lips. "I promise I'm not that scary."

"With those tattoos...?" you mumble, your voice trailing off as your eyes instinctively wander over the ink etched into his skin. The intricate designs winding along his arms don't exactly scream painless to you. If anything, they do the complete opposite. You swallow, shaking your head slightly. "I don't think so."

Jisung laughs softly at that—not mocking, not offended, just genuinely amused, like your reaction is both expected and a little endearing. The sound is light, easy, and it lingers just enough to pull your attention back to him.

"I'm serious, though," he says, and this time his voice shifts, softer, steadier. There's a quiet reassurance in it that catches you off guard. He tilts his head slightly, studying you, like he's trying to figure out exactly where your fear begins and how far it goes. "You don't have to decide now."

He steps back just enough to gesture toward the tattoo station behind him. The faint buzz of the machine hums in the background, low and constant, vibrating through the air in a way that makes your skin prickle. You glance over despite yourself, catching sight of someone sitting in the chair, calm as the needle moves with careful precision against their skin.

Your stomach twists.

"Just watch," Jisung continues, his voice cutting gently through the noise, grounding in a way you didn't expect. When you look back at him, his expression has softened, the earlier teasing replaced with something more patient, more understanding. "No pressure. You can stay as long or as little as you want."

The whole session was quiet. The steady hum of the tattoo machine as it worked on Chaeyoung's skin was the main sound, along with the soft chatter of other clients and their artists around the shop. Every now and then, you'd hear Chaeyoung and Jisung talking—him asking if she needed a break, making sure she was okay before continuing.

Watching them, you found yourself mesmerized. This wasn't what you had imagined. Jisung's movements were careful and precise, his hands steady as he guided the needle across her skin. There was no roughness, no rush—just focus and care.

You couldn't help but notice how gentle he was, how intentional each motion seemed. It was almost calming, and for the first time, your fear of needles didn't feel so overwhelming. You just kept watching, quietly fascinated by how he worked.

It wasn't the kind of tattoo that sprawled across skin in an intricate, intimidating design. It was smaller, simpler, the kind that looked effortless but still required precision. Maybe that was why it felt slightly less threatening, the buzzing of the machine less sharp in your chest. Or maybe it had nothing to do with the tattoo at all.

Because Jisung's attention kept finding you. Not in a way that was pushy or overbearing, but in subtle, measured glances that made something flutter low in your stomach. Every time his eyes met yours, that soft, easy smile lifted the corners of his lips, warm and teasing, as though he was silently amused by your quiet fascination.

And then there were his hands. Every time they moved across Chaeyoung's skin, flexing slightly as he guided the needle, you caught yourself watching the way the muscles shifted and the veins traced under the skin. There was a careful strength to him, a combination of control and precision that somehow felt... magnetic.

You didn't know if you were mesmerized by the tattooing itself, the delicate lines and shading—or if it was him, just him, drawing your attention without even trying. The way he leaned in slightly when focusing, the way his shoulders moved with each motion, the quiet confidence he carried in every gesture... it was disarming, almost hypnotic.

And somewhere deep inside, your chest tightened—not with fear this time, but with the uncomfortable, thrilling awareness that you couldn't look away, that every small motion of his hands, every glance, was slowly pulling you in.

Your thoughts wander somewhere they probably shouldn't. For someone who claims to fear needles and the idea of anyone poking your skin, you can't help but wonder what it would feel like if Han Jisung were the one working on you.

Would he be gentle, cooing quietly like he does with Chaeyoung, his voice low and calm, reassuring you through every motion? Or would it be something different, closer, more intimate, so near to your ear that it makes your pulse stutter?

What would his touch feel like? Warm, comforting, like a hand meant to soothe? Or colder, precise, clinical, yet still unnervingly electrifying? Could his movements somehow feel both soothing and... arousing at the same time?

The questions leave your chest fluttering in ways you weren't expecting. You try to push the thoughts away, to focus on the buzzing machine and the careful lines Jisung traces on Chaeyoung's skin, but every time his arms flex, every time he leans forward, your imagination refuses to cooperate.

And the more you watch, the harder it becomes to tell whether your fascination is with his skill... or with him.

"Y/N?"

The sound of your name snaps you out of your daze, but for a moment, you're still absentminded, caught somewhere between watching Jisung and the whirlwind of your own thoughts.

A sudden tug on your arm makes you jump, your heart skipping a beat. You glance down to see Chaeyoung's hand gripping yours, steady and firm. "Hey," she says, her tone teasing but not unkind. "Earth to Y/N. You've been spacing out for like... ten minutes."

You blink rapidly, trying to gather yourself, heat creeping up your neck. "Huh? Oh... the session's done?" you murmur, asking and glancing away, embarrassed.

Chaeyoung rolls her eyes, smirking knowingly. "Yeah, it's been two hours. The session's done. I didn't think you wouldn't notice. You're like staring at Hanji all these time."

Your stomach twists, and you resist the urge to shove her playfully. "I—I wasn't staring!" you protest weakly, though your eyes immediately flicker back toward Jisung, who's still working on Chaeyoung with that focused, careful precision that somehow makes your chest ache.

A smirk flashed across Chaeyoung's lips as she raised an eyebrow at you, her gaze sharp and teasing. "Yeah, right," she said, voice dripping with mock disbelief. "You aren't definitely staring."

Heat immediately crept up your neck. You opened your mouth to protest, but the words stuck somewhere between indignation and embarrassment. Your eyes flicked away instinctively, though you knew she wasn't fooled for a second.

Chaeyoung's grin widened, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction. "Relax," she added, leaning closer with a playful nudge. "I'm just saying... it's kind of obvious."

"Chae, check out."

You both turned your heads toward Jisung, who was standing at the front desk, waiting for you to settle the bill. He gave a small nod when he saw you looking, as if to confirm he was calling for the two of you.

You and Chaeyoung made your way over together, your footsteps soft against the floor. As you approached, Jisung reached for a logbook and slid it across the counter toward Chaeyoung, tapping lightly on the page where she needed to fill in her details—her name, contact number, and signature.

You stood beside her, glancing down at the open page as she began writing. The quiet scratch of her pen filled the brief silence, and you found yourself idly looking around while waiting for her to finish, thinking that this was just a simple checkout process.

Once she was done, she closed the pen and pushed the logbook back toward Jisung. You were about to step aside, assuming everything was settled, when he turned the logbook around and gently nudged it in your direction instead.

You paused for a second, slightly caught off guard, before looking up at him.

"Oh... me too?" you asked, a small hint of confusion in your voice.

Jisung smiled, giving a short nod as he rested his hand on the counter.

"Yeah," he said simply, "just for formality."

You hesitated for a brief moment, then reached for the pen, leaning slightly forward as you began filling in your own details, following the same lines Chaeyoung had just completed.

Not long after the two of you stepped out of the studio, your phone vibrated with a new notification.

Unknown Number: Hi! This is Jisung. I saved your number, just in case. I hope you don't mind.

Chaeyoung, who always seemed to have her eyes on you, immediately leaned over, curiosity sparkling in her gaze as she tried to catch a glimpse of the message you had just received. It wasn't unusual for the two of you to share everything, secrets, stories, even the most mundane texts, so you didn't bother to hide your screen. With a playful scoff and a raised eyebrow, she teased, "I knew he was just looking for an excuse to get your number by signing the logbook. Only the person who actually had a session with you is supposed to sign that."

The air between you was filled with a mix of amusement and anticipation, the city's distant hum serving as a backdrop to this small, unexpected moment. You couldn't help but smile, feeling a flutter of excitement at the thought of what might come next.

It had been a month since your first encounter with Han Jisung, yet for some inexplicable reason, you found yourself still in contact with him. The two of you exchanged messages almost daily, your conversations flowing with a surprising ease that made it feel as though you had known each other for far longer than just a few weeks. Jisung would check up on you from time to time, sending thoughtful messages that brightened your day and made you wonder how quickly a stranger could become such a familiar presence in your life. The connection between you was unexpected, yet undeniably comforting, as if fate had quietly woven your paths together.

Even though you and Jisung hadn't known each other long, talking to him felt surprisingly natural. Your conversations flowed easily, whether you were sharing funny stories or just talking about your day. You found yourself asking him about his job as a tattoo artist, curious about what it was like.

Jisung was always happy to answer your questions. He told you about the people who came to his studio, the meaning behind some of his favorite tattoos, and how focused he had to be while working. He described the steady buzz of the tattoo machine and how time seemed to slow down when he was drawing on someone's skin.

One Sunday morning, the two of you settled into a cozy corner of your favorite café, the soft murmur of other patrons and the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Sunlight filtered through the large windows, casting gentle patterns across the wooden table where your cups steamed invitingly.

A thought—and a question—slipped into your mind before you could stop it. Tentatively, you leaned forward, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Hey... I've been thinking. If I decided to finally book a session with you, would you do it?"

The words seemed to catch him off guard for a split second, then his eyes lit up, sparkling in the sunlight. A laugh tugged at the corner of your lips as you watched the expression spread across his face—a grin so wide and bright it made him look almost radiant. He nodded enthusiastically, leaning slightly closer over the table, his excitement impossible to hide.

"Have you thought about the design you want to go for?" he asked, taking a slow sip of his coffee. His eyes stayed locked on you, sparkling with curiosity and barely-contained excitement. That smile of his—the one that seemed unwilling to leave—curved even wider as he leaned slightly forward, waiting for your answer.

"Yeah... actually, I was thinking of a lower back tattoo. What do you think?"

For a moment, Jisung froze, his eyebrows shooting up and a faint blush creeping across his cheeks. Then, with a playful laugh that didn't quite hide the flustered heat in his expression, he leaned back in his chair and waved a hand like he was trying to compose himself. 

"Wow... okay, that's bold," he said, his voice teasing but tinged with genuine surprise. "I mean... I think it'd look great—but, uh... lower back, huh?" He chuckled again, running a hand through his hair, clearly caught somewhere between amusement and being slightly flustered.

"Do you think... it's a bad idea for a first tattoo?" you asked, tracing the rim of your coffee cup with your finger, trying to sound casual while your heart picked up pace.

Jisung blinked, and for a split second, the teasing sparkle in his eyes wavered into something more thoughtful. Then, just as quickly, it returned, but now mixed with a flustered energy. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, hands gesturing animatedly.

"Bad idea? Uh... no! Not at all!" he said, though his voice carried a slight squeak that betrayed his surprise. He laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck as a faint blush warmed his cheeks. "I mean... it's just... a lower back tattoo for your first one is... bold, that's all! But hey, if you're serious about it, I'd say go for it. I mean... you'd look amazing, obviously."

"So... when will you be free?" you asked, leaning back slightly in your chair, the sunlight catching the steam rising from your coffee. Jisung tilted his head to the side, brows furrowing as he mentally scanned his schedule. His fingers drummed lightly on the edge of his cup, betraying the hint of nervous energy behind his usually composed demeanor.

"I'm actually fully booked for the next... well, a while," he admitted, a small laugh escaping him as he scratched his chin. Then, leaning a little closer across the table, his voice dropped into a more playful tone. "But... how about this—you come by my studio after hours? I could make some time just for you."

The glimmer in his eyes was unmistakable, part teasing, part flustered, as if even suggesting it made him both excited and a little embarrassed. You couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in his posture, leaning in just enough that it made the space between you feel charged.

You leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, a mischievous edge in your voice. "Are you... really okay with that?" you asked, letting the words linger, letting him feel the weight behind them, as if you already knew this after-hours session might lead somewhere more.

Jisung's eyes flicked up instantly, catching the tone, that sharp, teasing undertone. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face, matching the playfulness in your voice. His usual teasing grin was there, but now mixed with a flicker of fluster, the way he ran a hand through his hair and leaned back just enough to hide the quickening of his pulse. 

"But I have to ask... are you sure about it?"

You felt a thrill at how quickly he had matched your energy, how the banter danced on the edge of something more—neither of you needing to say it aloud for the implication to hang heavy in the air.

It was already 9 PM on Thursday evening, and you hurriedly stuffed your belongings into your bag, the soft clatter of papers and the zip of your bag echoing through the quiet office. You glanced at the clock again and felt a twinge of panic. Stepping out, you knocked lightly on the glass door of Chaeyoung's office and gave him a quick wave. She was buried in work, juggling client after client, completely absorbed in her overtime.

You didn't linger. Your mind was focused entirely on your scheduled tattoo session with Jisung. The thought of being late made your stomach twist, and you could almost feel the seconds slipping through your fingers. The commute to Jisung's studio would take nearly an hour, and every moment wasted meant more time to worry about how flustered you'd look when you finally arrived. Heart racing, you moved quickly down the hallway, weaving past coworkers who had already left, your thoughts consumed by the image of Jisung waiting—perhaps amused, perhaps teasing—as you walked through the studio doors.

It took you around forty-five minutes to reach the studio, and by now, Jisung's was the only one still open in the area. It was nearly 10 PM, and the streets were quiet as you made your way inside. The moment you stepped through the door, the silence of the studio hit you. Unlike the first time you had come with Chaeyoung, this place was completely empty. Every surface gleamed, clearly cleared of staff and other artists, except for a single mini bed still cluttered with tools, waiting for someone to use it.

Your heart skipped when the door behind you opened. You guessed it led to Jisung's office. But what completely flustered you was who stepped out—shirtless. Jisung. Bare-chested. Your eyes wandered over the tattoos on his arms and chest, lingering on the defined muscles before you noticed his hair was still wet, droplets of water sliding down his abs. You were here for a tattoo, but all you could think about was him.

"You're here already? Sorry I didn't meet you outside. I took a shower while waiting," he said, his voice casual. You spun around, heat rushing to your cheeks as your hands flew to cover your face.

Oh god, this is too much.

"W-what..." you muttered under your breath. You'd seen plenty of male bodies before, but Jisung's was on another level. The tattoos snaking over sculpted muscles made it hard to think straight.

A soft laugh made you peek through your fingers. To your relief, or maybe disappointment—he was already back in his signature tank top. Fine. You could still see those biceps, and your chest fluttered involuntarily.

"Shall we get started? Or do you want a break first? Coffee or something?" Jisung asked, his tone light and teasing, though there was a warmth in it that made your stomach tighten. You flinched slightly when his arm brushed your hip as he guided you to the mini bed.

Your mind spun with thoughts you knew were completely inappropriate. You weren't even sure how long you could keep yourself composed, knowing full well that it was your own choice to be here.

"We might as well start now," you replied, taking a deep breath. "That way, we can finish sooner."

Jisung smiled reassuringly and walked over to help you to your feet. You cursed silently. He was so careful and attentive, nothing like the session he had with Chaeyoung that you have witnessed. Did he really have to help you take off your shirt? Even with the aircon running, your skin felt warm.

"There. Lie on your stomach," Jisung said softly. "I'll put the gel on your back before we start."

When his large hands finally touched your back, a shiver ran through you. Your body felt weightless, and you bit your lip to hold back a small groan. Just his touch sent your heart racing and your thoughts spinning. Every careful movement of his hands against your skin was electric. The effect Jisung had on you was overwhelming, and you knew this session was going to be unforgettable.

Your body trembled, caught between pleasure and pain as Jisung worked on your skin. It had been hours since the session started, but time felt strange—sometimes fast, sometimes slow. Each time the needle touched you, a sharp sting shot through you, but Jisung was always there to soothe you. Whenever you flinched, he pressed gentle kisses to your neck, making it hard to tell what you felt more: the pain or the comfort.

Jisung's other hand moved slowly, tracing from your chest down to your stomach. His touch was cold, making you arch your back and shiver. There was a deep ache building between your legs, and you didn't know how to react to the mix of sensations flooding your body.

"Shh," Jisung whispered softly in your ear, his deep voice making you feel lightheaded. He paused whenever he noticed you tense up, always patient and careful. Sometimes, you bit your lip and grabbed his hair, needing something to hold onto as pleasure and pain mixed together. Jisung would chuckle at your reactions, clearly enjoying how you melted under his touch. You could feel his desire too, and it made your heart race.

This was new for Jisung. He hadn't planned for things to get this intense. He just wanted to reward you for all your hard work by his side. But now, he couldn't deny how much you affected him. That's why he kept touching you, giving you soft caresses and kisses, even in the middle of your session.

The sounds you made—your moans and gasps—made it even harder for Jisung to control himself. Sometimes, he wanted to just grab your waist and take you right there, but he held back. Instead, he left marks on your skin with his mouth, sucking and biting gently to let out some of his frustration. He promised himself that when this session was over, he'd take you to bed and make you moan his name over and over. But for now, he just wanted to please you.

It's three o'clock in the morning. Normally, by this time, you'd either be fast asleep or busy working on new designs. But tonight is different. You're sitting on Jisung's lap, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck as your lips meet in a deep, desperate kiss. It feels like you're both trying to hold onto this moment forever, as if the sun might never rise again.

No one ever told you how intoxicating tattooing could be. Right now, you feel like you're floating, lost in a haze of pleasure and adrenaline. Your back aches from the fresh tattoo, but the pain is drowned out by the way Jisung's hands grip your hips, guiding you to move and grind against him. The heat and desire between you are so strong, it makes everything else fade away.

Jisung's touch is gentle but firm, his fingers pressing into your skin as he helps you find a rhythm. Every time you move, a wave of pleasure washes over you, mixing with the lingering sting of the tattoo. You can feel his breath against your cheek, his lips finding yours again and again, hungry and soft all at once.

The world outside feels distant and unimportant. All you can focus on is the way Jisung makes you feel—alive, wanted, and completely swept away. Even though your back hurts, you can't bring yourself to complain. The pleasure and connection you share with Jisung are so much stronger than any pain.

You gasp when you feel Jisung's hands grip your waist, pushing you down firmly against his arousal. The movement gives him the perfect chance to deepen the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth, exploring and tasting every part of you. All you can do is cling to him, moaning softly into his mouth as the sensations overwhelm you.

Your muffled moans seem to awaken something wild in Jisung. One of his hands leaves your hips, gliding up your body—over your stomach, your chest—until it wraps gently around your neck. Your eyes flutter, rolling back from the pleasure of his touch, especially when he squeezes just a little. Your voice grows hoarse from the mix of pleasure and pain, and you flinch every time Jisung bucks his hips beneath you. For a moment, his grip on your neck tightens, sending a jolt through your body, but he quickly loosens his hold, making sure you're okay.

Jisung's lips, which had just been exploring your mouth, now travel down to your neck. He presses hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, sucking and biting gently until he leaves a bright, purplish mark that throbs with every beat of your heart. Each time his lips move, you feel a mix of pleasure and anticipation, your breath coming faster as he claims you with every mark.

Suddenly, you feel his hand slip beneath the waistband of your panties. The coolness of his fingers is a sharp contrast to the heat of your body, making you shiver. You bite your lip, surprised by how gentle and attentive he is as he touches you, his fingers exploring with a slow, teasing rhythm that sends waves of pleasure through your core. Jisung's touch is both soothing and electrifying, making you gasp and moan as he finds your most sensitive spots.

His other hand moves up to your chest, fingertips brushing over your skin and tracing the curve of your breast, sending sparks of sensation through your body. The combination of his cold hand and your warm skin makes you arch into his touch, desperate for more. You find yourself gripping his hair tightly, needing something to anchor you as the pleasure builds. Every time you try to move your hips to meet his rhythm, Jisung holds you steady, controlling the pace. When you get too eager, he gives your butt a playful slap, the sting making you shudder and groan, your body aching for more of his touch.

"Jisung—please..." you beg between breathless moans, your voice trembling with need. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you bury your face against his skin, trying to steady yourself. Your eyes widen when you feel Jisung's hand move between your thighs, his fingers working you with slow, deliberate strokes, while his other hand gently rubs your back. The mix of pleasure and the lingering ache from your fresh tattoo sends shivers through your whole body, making your heart flutter wildly.

You shake your head, desperate to hold back, not wanting to let go just yet—not until Jisung is inside you, giving you everything you crave. But just as you feel yourself getting close, Jisung suddenly pulls away, leaving you aching and breathless. He laughs softly when he hears your desperate whine, clearly enjoying how much you want him.

"Come here, pretty." Jisung's voice cuts through the quiet, deeper and rougher than you've ever heard it before. The sound alone sends a rush of heat through your body, making your knees weak. He helps you stand, his hands gentle but sure as he slowly slides your pants down your legs. The cool air of the room makes you shiver when he finally removes the rest of your clothes, leaving you completely bare.

Despite the chill from the air conditioner, your skin feels hot, beads of sweat trailing down your chest. You instinctively try to cover yourself, suddenly feeling shy and exposed under Jisung's gaze. It's not the first time you've undressed in front of someone, but with Jisung, it feels different—more intense, more real. All the confidence you thought you had seems to vanish in an instant.

Jisung notices your hesitation and laughs softly, the sound warm and reassuring. He takes your hand in his, guiding you gently toward him, making you feel safe even as your heart races.

You and Jisung kiss for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. Each kiss is just as intense as the last, hungry, desperate, and full of need. His lips move against yours with a kind of wild urgency, stealing your breath and making your heart race. You can feel the heat building between you, the air thick with anticipation and longing. Every time you try to pull away for air, Jisung pulls you back in, his hands tangled in your hair, his mouth claiming yours again and again.

As the kisses grow more heated, Jisung's hands slide down your body, gripping your waist and guiding you across the room. He never breaks the connection between your mouths, moving with you until your back bumps gently against the edge of his office table. With a gentle but firm touch, he turns you around so you're facing the table, then bends you over, your bare skin pressed against the cool surface.

A shiver runs down your spine, both from the cold and from the anticipation of what's to come. You grip the edge of the table with both hands, your knuckles turning white as you steady yourself. Your mind is spinning, your body aching for more, and you can't help but think, Oh god, is this really happening?

Jisung leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. "Now tell me, pretty," he murmurs, his voice low and rough, sending a fresh wave of heat through your body. "Tell me you don't want this, and I'll let you go." As he speaks, he presses a soft, lingering kiss to your back, still sensitive and a little sore from the fresh tattoo you just got. The gentle touch makes you gasp, the pain and pleasure mixing in a way that leaves you dizzy.

You stay silent, not because you want him to stop, but because you can't find the words. Your throat is dry, your lips parted, and all you can do is brace yourself on the table and start to move your hips, grinding your bare body back against Jisung's growing arousal. The friction sends sparks of pleasure through you, making you moan softly. Jisung takes your silence and your movements as the answer he needs.

He lets out a low, satisfied sound, his hands roaming over your body, exploring every curve and dip. One hand comes down in a gentle smack on your butt, the sting making you gasp and arch your back, pressing yourself even closer to him. The other hand slides up your spine, fingers tracing the lines of your tattoo, making you shiver all over again.

Using one of his hands, Jisung gently grabs both of your wrists and brings them behind your back, holding them there with a firm but careful grip. His other hand is busy at your waist, unbuckling his belt and sliding his pants down, the sound of the metal buckle echoing softly in the room. You feel his body press closer, his chest warm against your back as he leans in, his lips brushing over your skin.

He places swift, teasing kisses along your spine, his mouth barely touching you, sending shivers down your body. Each kiss is light and fleeting, but the sensation lingers, making your skin tingle. Jisung's hands guide your hips back toward his, pulling you closer until you can feel the heat radiating between you. The anticipation builds with every touch, every kiss, and you can't help but arch into him, wanting more.

After freeing himself, Jisung begins to slowly rub the head of his length against your entrance, teasing you with gentle, deliberate movements. He lets out a deep, shaky sigh as he feels just how warm and soft you are, the sensation almost overwhelming him. He hasn't even done much yet, but the pleasure already rushing through his body makes him feel like he could lose control at any moment.

It's almost unbelievable to him—how just being with you, feeling your body respond to his touch, can drive him so wild. The anticipation, the heat, and the way you make him feel is enough to make him dizzy with want.

The gasp that escaped your lips was sharp and raw as Jisung pulled your hair back, his other hand still pinning your wrists behind you. There was no gentle warning—just the sudden, overwhelming sensation of him entering you, his movements urgent and rough, leaving no room for hesitation or doubt. Jisung was never known for being gentle in moments like this, but tonight he felt even more intense—almost wild, as if something inside him had snapped.

You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the way his breath came out in ragged bursts against your ear. Every thrust was filled with a desperate need, his hips moving with a rhythm that was both relentless and hungry. You were like a fever in his veins, impossible for him to ignore. He couldn’t think straight; all he wanted was to lose himself in you, to make you feel so good that nothing else mattered.

Your senses were overwhelmed by the way he touched you, the way he held you so tightly, as if he was afraid you might slip away. The roughness of his grip, the urgency in his movements, and the sound of your own breathless moans filled the room. Each time he moved, you felt a wave of pleasure crash over you, making your body arch and tremble beneath him.

Jisung’s voice was low and strained, barely more than a growl as he whispered your name, his words lost in the haze of desire. You could feel his need in every touch, every kiss, every rough movement. It was as if you were the only thing in the world that could satisfy him, the only thing that could bring him back from the edge.

Your growls took on a new tone, deeper and more desperate, as Jisung moved behind you with a relentless rhythm. Each time he thrust forward, a wave of pleasure surged through your body, so intense it felt like your soul was floating. The sensations were overwhelming—your mouth hung open, saliva slipping down your chin as you lost yourself in the feeling, your moans filling the room.

Your eyes rolled back, a silly, blissful smile spreading across your face as you surrendered to the moment. Every movement of Jisung’s hips sent sparks of pleasure through you, making your body arch and tremble. It was almost too much, especially when he found that sensitive spot inside you, making your whole body shudder with delight.

“Oh—” you cried out, your voice trembling with pleasure. Every sound that escaped your lips seemed to ignite something deep inside Jisung, each moan and gasp fueling the growing tension in his body. The way you called his name, over and over, was music to his ears—so sweet, so enticing, it made him want to give you even more.

You were already a mess, your body bouncing with each of Jisung’s urgent movements. His hair fell into his eyes, but he didn’t care; he was too lost in the moment, too focused on the way you felt beneath him. You could barely think, your mind clouded with pleasure as you clung to the edge of the table, letting him take control.

Jisung’s hands were everywhere, one hooking your leg up, almost lifting you off the ground, the other releasing your wrists so he could grab your jaw and tilt your face toward his. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, as if he wanted to see every reaction, every bit of pleasure he was giving you.

You could feel the tension building inside you, the pressure growing with every movement. Jisung was close too; you could sense it in the way his breath quickened, in the way his grip tightened on your body. He had been holding back, wanting to make this last, but the pleasure was almost too much for either of you to handle.

“I’m— Oh god!” you moaned, your voice trembling as your body tightened around Jisung. The sensation made him growl, deep and raw, his head thrown back as he moved even faster. His thrusts were fast, deep, and almost wild, pushing you to the edge of overstimulation. You could feel yourself unraveling, your body shaking as you clung to the table, crying out from the overwhelming pleasure.

Jisung watched you fall apart beneath him, your tears mixing with your moans as you reached your peak. It was almost too much, your eyes rolling back as waves of pleasure crashed over you. The intensity left you breathless, your body limp and trembling. He was close too, his movements growing even more frantic as he chased his own release. With a loud, guttural sound, he leaned down, biting your shoulder as he finally let go, his release pulsing deep inside you. 

“Fuck!” he gasped, his voice rough as his movements slowed, both of you shaking from the intensity.

When he finally pulled away, your legs nearly gave out, but Jisung caught you in his arms before you could fall. He let out a low, gentle chuckle, steadying you and helping you stand. Seeing how exhausted you were, he scooped you up and carried you over to the sofa, settling you on his lap. You leaned into him, burying your face in his neck, seeking comfort in his warmth.

Jisung’s hand found the tattoo on your lower back, his fingers tracing it gently. You winced at the touch, the skin still sensitive. “Does that hurt? Just rest for now, or sleep. I’ll wake you up when the sun comes up, okay?” he whispered, his voice soft as he ruffled your hair.

You hadn’t realized how tired you were until that moment. The exhaustion from the intense tattoo session—and everything that followed—washed over you, and you drifted off to sleep, your body relaxed and safe in Jisung’s arms.

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the bell above the studio door gave a low chime when you pushed it open, the sharp smell of ink and the metallic bite of the autoclave drifting from the back.

the front desk was empty, a single lamp cast long, jagged shadows across the black leather couch and the flash sheets pinned to the walls.

your eyes roamed the room nervously until you heard a door at the end of the hall creaked open. jisung stepped out, wiping his hands on an ink-stained rag.

he wore a black tee that clung to his frame, leaving nothing to the imagination, his bare arms making you lick your lower lip. he stopped inches from you, a slow, flirtatious smirk curving at the corner of his mouth.

“lock the door behind you,” he said, voice low and casual. he jerked his head toward the entrance. “we’re closed for the night. special clients only.”

he didn’t wait for a reaction from you. with a playful wink, he turned toward his private office. you followed, heart hammering against your ribs, every single word of support and encouragement your friends gave you flying out the window

you eased the office door shut. you were nervous as fuck, the silence in the room feeling heavy and electric. you swept your gaze to his desk, which was a chaotic graveyard of sketches and a pack of cigarettes with only one left.

“sit down,” he commanded, patting the edge of the desk. he slumped into the leather chair, rolling it forward until his knees bracketed yours. “show me what we’re working with.”

you raise a brow, bracing yourself as you hopped up. the proximity was suffocating. with a shaky breath, your fingers found the hem of your top. you hiked it up, your gaze fixed on the wall to avoid his.

the cool air hit your left side, a shiver traveling up your spine made you gasp. he wasn’t wearing gloves, just his bare, calloused skin tracing under the curve of your breast. his thumb pressed in, testing the give of muscle and bone with a slow, agonizing deliberation.

“side torso,” he murmured, eyes tracking the line of your hip. “good choice. hurts like a bitch, but it’ll sit pretty.”

his palm remained flat against your skin, grounding you. you bit your lower lip to stifle a hum as his warm breath ghosted against your collarbone. you tried to steady your breathing, fighting the traitorous

what was wrong with you? he was just doing his damn job. your hand gripped the edge of the wooden desk, knuckles whitening as you tried to rein yourself in.

he tilted his head, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of your ribs as if he were already carving the design into your flesh.

“you’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you?” he asked in a quiet murmur.

you nodded, tongue-tied. you weren’t brave enough to look him in the eye when his gaze felt like a physical touch.

“how long?” his voice was professional, shop-counter casual. that tone carrying a dangerous edge.

you cleared your throat. “a few months. maybe more.”

“need you to be specific, sweetie,” his thumb shifted, mapping the curve under your bra band without slipping beneath it. “i don’t like talking vaguely when i’m about to put something permanent on you.”

“since… before the first consultation,” you admitted, voice barely a whisper. “i just… made up my mind.”

a low, satisfied hum rumbled in his chest. “i like that,” he finally glanced up, a spark of dark curiosity in his eyes. “what took you so long?”

“wanted to be sure about the placement,” you forced a smile, careful not to jostle his hand.

“mmh,” he clearly didn’t buy it. “placement is half the decision. the other half is whether you can sit still while i’m all over you,” his fingers splayed, warm and steady. “can you?”

your lips parted, searching his face for a hidden meaning. he flashed a smug, knowing grin. like he knew how much everything he did affected you on the inside.

“i… i think so,” you stammered, cursing yourself.

“you think so,” he repeated, tasting the words. “not good enough. i need a ‘yes’, or you can head home and come back when you’re ready to handle it.”

the words hit you like a physical shove, your body locking up. when he made to pull his hand away, your fingers shot out to grab his wrist, pinning his palm back against your side. you met his gaze, silent and pleading.

“yes,” you breathed. “i can handle it.”

“fine. then, arms up,” he demmanded. “keep the shirt there and don’t you dare let it drop.”

you obeyed, fabric bunched under your fists. you were painfully exposed, the draft from the vent tickling your skin. jisung leaned in, close enough that you could smell the sharp tang of his studio and the lingering scent of smoke.

he reached for a pen, uncapping it with his teeth. your stomach did a slow-motion vault at the sight of his lips around the plastic, his tongue flicking out.

“i’m going to mark the zone,” he said against the pen, his eyes locking onto yours. “tell me if it feels off.”

the tip of the pen grazed your skin. it was a light, agonizingly slow curve, and you felt every millimeter. his left hand stayed anchored to your waist, a silent reminder that you weren’t going anywhere.

“breathe,” he whispered.

he drew a final, soft ‘x’ at the center of the placement. he pulled back, his breath hitching when he saw your half-lidded eyes and the way you were biting your lip.

“so…” he cleared his throat. “this is the densest part of the work. every time you move, it’ll pull. sure you want it here?”

“it’s fine,” you said, forcing your voice to be steady. “wanna see it when i look down.”

he went still, swallowing hard before finishing the oval outline. you felt him hovering on the edge of disbelief, so you moved, trying to bridge the gap.

“it’s… practical,” you added, fishing for his approval. “nothing more.”

“sure it is,” he tossed the pen aside but kept his hand pressed to your skin. “but, as far as i’m concerned, ‘practical girls’ don’t blush when i mark them.”

heat flooded your throat. “i’m not-”

“you are,” he said, flat and observant. “it’s fine. my job is to put ink on you, not judge what turns you on.”

your face was a fire hazard. you tried to pull the shirt down, but his fingers clamped gently over the fabric, holding you in place.

“not yet, pretty girl. i’m not done looking.”

the words clung to your mind longer than you wanted. you were drowning in his double meanings, too panicked to do anything but play the fool.

you surely considered going home, calling seungmin and screaming how much you hated him your tattoo artists.

he leaned in, his knee coming to rest just outside yours. “now, again, why ribs?”

“i already told you-”

“you told me you want to see it. that’s bullshit,” his fingers returned, pressing into the ‘x’. “why here, where it’ll hurt? where every partner you ever have is going to put their mouth on and know i was first?”

this was too much. your breath snagged, eyes squeezing shut. your panties were damp, you were aching, and completely undone by the heat of his touch.

“jisung,” you warned, your voice barely audible.

“you can walk out. door’s unlocked,” he countered, nodding toward the exit. “or you can keep answering me like an adult who knows exactly what she walked into.”

you stayed on the desk, your knuckles whitened in the fabric of your shirt.

he stood, giving you time to track the shift in his weight. he braced a hand on the desk, looming over your hip, claiming the space as if he’d already built a home there.

“y’know what? i’ve been thinking about this for a while.”

the confession didn’t land all at once. he drew the moment out, making you wait until you were on the verge of begging.

maybe this was the moment where you redirected the conversation, said goodbye and walked out that door, looking for another tattoo artist that didn’t make you sigh like a girl with a crush.

“every appointment,” he began, “i’d watch from the counter. i’d watch your eyes flicker toward me,” his voice dropped, “and, to be completely honest, I was always watching back.”

the words settled in the room, heavy and absolute. his hand didn’t move. if anything, he pressed firmer, anchoring you to him.

“i told myself it was professional interest. then you started booking with me specifically, and i stopped lying to myself,” his thumb mapped the lower curve of his own mark, “i’ve thought about putting my hands on your lower back to check my own work myself.”

he waited, giving you that final, silent out. your heart hammered against your ribs with a frantic, erratic rhythm that you were certain he could feel through his palm.

“tell me you don’t want this, and i go back to a standard consultation,” he said, voice low, absolute decree. “tell me anything else… and i stop being your artist for the next hour.”

the air in the room felt thin. you could hear the ragged drag of your own breath and feel the bite of the desk’s edge against your thighs. your shirt was still bunched in your fists, his hand pressed over your ribs like a claim he hadn’t yet voiced aloud.

“i… i don’t want you to stop,” you murmured, the words barely ghosting past your lips.

something shifted in his expression. his face lit up with a raw, predatory hunger. his eyebrows arched, and his tongue swept across his lower lip in a slow, anticipating drag.

a sudden, violent jolt of arousal spiked between your thighs, the sensation becoming almost unbearable. a broken gasp escaped you when you heard the hungry, relieved sigh he let out in response.

he stepped into the narrow space between your knees, moving with patience. he gave your body time to adjust to his heat, to the solid, grounding weight of his hips brushing while the other rose to cradle your neck.

his thumb pressed firmly against the hinge of your jaw, tilting your face up until you had no choice but to meet his eyes.

he didn’t kiss you. instead, his hand slid into your hair at the nape of your neck, his fingers tightening until the pull against your scalp sent a shiver racing down your spine. he tilted your head back by degrees until your throat was bared and your eyes had nowhere to go but him.

with a firm grip, he turned you until your hip pressed against the edge of the desk. he leaned in, his palm finding the space between your shoulder blades to anchor you firmly against the wood. his free hand settled at the waistband of your jeans, lingering there, waiting.

“last chance. you sure about this, pretty girl?” he breathed against your shoulder.

“yes…” you whined, hissing at the sheer friction of his body against yours.

only then did he work the button and zipper. he dragged your jeans and panties down in one fluid motion, the fabric catching at your thighs and knees until it pooled, tangling around your legs and binding you just enough that you couldn’t open wide without his help.

the rush of cool air hitting your core made you sob. jisung groaned, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips.

“fuck, look at you,” he rasped. he smoothed his palms up the backs of your thighs, spreading you wide, his gaze hungry. the pause stretched until your hips twitched helplessly. “already dripping, and i haven’t even touched you yet.”

you gasped, your face burning against the desk as the bluntness of his words settled in your cunt. jisung let out a low, dark laugh that vibrated through the hand still pressed against your spine.

“keep making those sounds, baby,” he whispered. “i want every single one of them.”

without warning, a single fingertip traced the seam from from your clit to your entrance, gathering the slick of your folds but not entering, teasing.

when he finally circled your clit, the movement almost cruel in its agonizingly slow pace. he held you just on the edge of your pleasure, watching you unravel.

“j-jisung…” you pleaded, your eyes dragging over him.

“oh, you want more?” he pressed two fingers into your entrance, thick and unhurried. “beg then.”

your eyes squeezed shut, swallowing hard, the command vibrating in your skull.

“p-please…” the word broke, shattering in the quiet office.

a smug, satisfied smile bloomed on his face. he pushed in slowly, watching your expression, gauging the stretch until you were panting, whispering incoherencies against the wood.

he drove his fingers, knuckle by knuckle, until his palm pressed flush against your trembling body.

“that’s it,” he murmured. “taking me so well already.”

he curled his fingers inside, searching until he found that specific, wicked spot. he settled into a steady, merciless rhythm. you could hear his own breath hitching, uneven and ragged.

“i’ve thought about this”, he confesses, his voice raw. “how wet you’d get if i just talked to you like this.”

you moaned, a sound torn from your throat, but he didn’t ease up. he added a twist on the outstroke and a sharp press on the in, building a wet, rhythmic slapping sound that filled the room.

“greedy girl,” he murmured, his admiration evident. “you’ve been wanting this for weeks,” he sighed, a heavy, audible sound. “bet you went home after our appointments and put your hand between your legs, thinking about my mouth.”

you tried to shake your head, to deny it, but he slid a third finger inside without mercy. the burn sweetened into an overwhelming fullness. your hips pushed back against him unconsciously. he pinned you firmer, his hand a dead weight against your back.

“stay,” he commanded. “i set the pace and you just take it.”

and you did. you took everything he gave you. your heartbeat slammed against the desk, sweat prickling your hairline. every thrust dragged a high-pitched, broken sound from you, raw and completely stripped of pretense.

“j-jisung, stop- m’gonna… fuck, please- so close…”

you squirmed, your entire body vibrating as the orgasm gathered in your lower belly. your mouth fell open, your back arching as you pushed into his hand.

the tightness in your abdomen snapped and your walls fluttered, spasming hard around his fingers. you slumped against the desk, forehead dropping against the cold wood, completely undone.

jisung groaned, the sight of your release clearly hitting him like a physical blow. a rush of heat coated his hand, and he didn’t stop, continuing with shorter, sharper strokes, milking every pulse until you were raw and oversensitive, still rocking back for more.

“fuck, yes…” he breathed, his voice wrecked with dark amused. “good girl. now, wanna feel you doing it in my mouth.”

before you could process the request, he dropped to his knees behind you. you jolted, surprised, but his hands immediately spread you wider, his thumbs holding you open to his scrutiny.

“w-wait-” you moaned, chest heaving. “i’m sensitive, don’t-”

but he was already there. he dragged his tongue, broad and filthy, from the mess on your thighs up to your clit. you ran a hand through your hair, biting your lip until it bled.

his pace was relentless. he licked and slurped, moaning into your skin like a man starving. your hand slapped the desk, then flew to your mouth to stifle the noise, but it was futile.

he sucked your clit between his lips, teasing with a scrape of his teeth that made your entire body jump. he circled your nub, teasing before suctioning down hard. you throbbed as he licked your folds, giving you barely a second of reprieve before attacking the sensitive spot again.

when you tried to reflexively close your legs, he bit the inside of your thigh hard enough to mark you and held the bite until you whimpered, then soothed the sting with a slow, languid swipe of his tongue.

“stay open,” he panted against your skin. “didn’t tell you to move, did i?”

you shook your head, unable to stop the sobbing sounds, your body hovering on the edge of collapse. when he pushed two fingers back inside while his mouth worked you into a frenzy, you were certain you had lost you mind.

the dual sensation was a short-circuit. he found a rhythm that was relentless, curling, sucking, and thrusting until the sound of your own fluids filled the office.

“oh, fuck-” you gasped, your mouth trembling. “jisung, i can’t- s’too much-”

“you will,” he mumbled against you. “give it to me. wanna taste every drop.”

your second orgasm hit differently, deeper, a pressure in your lower abdomen that peaked with terrifying speed. you clenched your teeth as it crashed over you, harder than the first.

your vision whited out, another gush spilling over his tongue and chin. you whimpered loudly into the wood, your body trembling so violently the desk squeaked under you.

he groaned, obscenely satisfied, drinking his fill of your release. he didn’t stop his fingers, dragging out the climax until your legs turned to jelly and he had to hold your hips up with both hands, anchoring you as you shattered for the second time.

he withdrew his hand, the sudden absence of pressure leaving you feeling strangely hollow. he stepped back just enough to unzip his jeans, the rasp of the teeth echoing in the small room.

he moved behind you, pressing his chest flush against your spine, his hand coming to cup your cheek, his touch surprisingly soothing despite the chaos he’d just wrought.

“what… jisung…” your gasps were hoarse.

he offered a slow, rouge smile. “think you can handle it?”

he didn’t wait for a verbal answer. the blunt head of his cock dragged against your soaked folds, a teasing friction, before he settled against your entrance, waiting.

you were arching back into him before he even applied pressure, desperate for the fullness you were clearly primed to receive.

“yes” you panted, the word barely recognizable.

“good girl,” he left a peek against the nape of your neck.

then, he pressed in. he didn’t slam inside, he fed you his length in slow, deliberate inches, letting you feel every ounce of the stretch, the agonizing heat of him as your body bloomed open to accommodate him.

when he bottomed out, he held perfectly still, buried to the hilt, his breath ragged against your skin. one hand fisted in your hair, the other spanning your ribs over the pen marks he’d drawn earlier.

“shit- you’re tight,” he rasped, his voice raw with honesty. “gonna fuck you until you can’t stand straight.”

a single, shaky nod was all the permission he needed. he snapped into a brutal, rhythmic pace that made the desk creak under the strain. he pulled your head back by your hair, forcing your throat open, your spine arching.

his free hand left your ribs to shove under your bra, pinching and rolling your nipple in time with his thrusts until you let out a broken sound.

“jisung, fuck-” you hissed, eyes rolling back. “so good… please, don’t stop…”

his rhythm faltered for a second at the raw sound of your voice. you were so wet, milking him with every clench, every frantic flutter of your muscles. he pushed harder, bottoming out against your cervix, the pleasure so sharp it made your mind fray at the edges.

“so fucking wet,” he panted, his own moans slipping through his teeth. “gonna cum inside you, baby. wanna see you take it all.”

he was fucking you senseless now. the thrusts were sloppy, messy, and relentless. he watched, fixated, as your ass bounced against his thighs with each violent collision. your cries were muffled against your own hand, but they were loud enough to drive him over the edge.

“gonna fill you up, baby. gonna be dripping with me after this… fuck-”

his control snapped- he buried himself to the hilt, grounding his hips against you as he sought his own release. your walls fluttered around him, desperate and greedy, milking him dry.

he let out a low, guttural roar, his cock pulsing deep inside you, hot spurs of cum flooding into you. he didn’t pull away, he stayed buried, thrusting in weak, rhythmic pulses until the very last drop was spent.

jisung remained pressed tight against you, head dropped to your shoulder, his breathing heavy and uneven. one hand stroked your side, his touch finally turning tender, while his cum leaked out, warm and thick, too much for you to hold inside.

“oh, shit… so good,” he breathed against your shoulder, pressing soft kisses into your skin. “you are perfect. made for me.”

eventually, he eased out, the withdrawal leaving a strange, quiet void in the room. you shivered, the mess between your legs feeling heavy, filthy.

he turned you around with careful, almost reverent hands, lifting you to sit on the edge of the desk. even as his body still hummed with the aftershocks of his release, his focus was entirely on you.

he brushed his thumb over you swollen lower lip, his gaze softening as he traced the flush on your cheeks. his eyes dropped to your chest, your shirt still rucked up, and his hands moved to adjust it, his fingers lingering in soft caresses.

you looked down, noticing the faint, dark marks he’d left on your thighs. you blinked, meeting his gaze one last time.

“you good?” he mumbled, stealing another soft peck from your lips. “if you want… you can come home with me. y’know… i have a little dog and a lizard that are dying to meet you.”

it was almost like a bad joke. the way he suddenly avoided your eyes, looking shy about the invitation. a slow, genuine smile spread across your face. it was sweet, the way his fingers were tracing soft, aimless circles over your knuckles.

“lead the way, then,” you said, your voice warm. “but don’t think i’m walking there on my own feet. you are carrying me!”

he chuckled, a rich, genuine sound, and patted your head before turning to gather your scattered clothes from the floor, tossing out fake apologies that lacked even a shred of regret for what he’d just done.

ᯓ★ SERIES

・you caught my heart :: ★ (bangchan) ・ where faces go :: ★ (hwang hyunjin) ・ i can hear you :: ★ (han jisung) ・ prim and proper... or not? :: ☆ (han jisung) ・ hometown, baby (smau) :: ★ (bangchan) ・ major arcana :: ☆ (ot8)

ᯓ★ BANGCHAN

・ melting point :: ☆ ・ wrecked and ruined :: ☆ ・ it's finally time :: ★ ・ you're twisted :: ☆ ・ love is timeless :: ★ ・ fake it till you make it :: ☆ ・ melting point 2.0 ft. hwang hyunjin :: ☆ ・ poisons & venom :: ☆ ・ relunctant sub bangchan :: ☆ ・ i hear you :: ★ ・ did you just flinched? :: ★ ・ crawling back to you :: ☆ the devil wears fendi :: ☆ ・ inspection :: ☆ ・ backseat driving :: ☆ ・ coaxing :: ☆ ・ inspection pt. 2 :: ☆ ・arch that back (smau) :: ☆ ・ make it up :: ☆ ・ chan's mommy gf :: ☆ ・ veneers :: ☆ ・ room 2425 :: ★ ・ wolf on leash :: ☆ ・ spring day :: ★ ・ chrome hearts :: ☆ ・ forest flames :: ☆

ᯓ★ LEE MINHO

・ blazing heat :: ☆ ・ jealous :: ☆ ・ sharing is caring or whatever ft. bangchan :: ☆ ・ tangled :: ☆

ᯓ★ SEO CHANGBIN

...to be filled.

ᯓ★ HWANG HYUNJIN

・ valentine's event :: ☆ ・ pretty boy :: ★ ・ pillowtalk : ☆

ᯓ★ HAN JISUNG

・ light it up :: ☆ ・ valentine's event :: ☆ ・ he's doomed :: ☆ ・ aphrodisiac :: ★ ・ who's in charge? :: ★ ・ who are you? :: ★ ・ you what? :: ★ ・ the green-eyed monster :: ☆ ・ loser han jisung :: ★ ・ skin deep :: ☆ ・ muncher all the way :: ☆ ・ surprise :: ☆ ・ arch that back :: ☆ ・ he's lucky, you love him :: ★ ・ rival :: ☆ ・ pegging jisung :: ☆ ・ tangled :: ☆ ・ homecuming :: ☆ ・ ghost :: ★ ・ catch me, spidey! :: ★

ᯓ★ LEE FELIX YONGBOK

・ sly gamer :: ☆

ᯓ★ KIM SEUNGMIN

・ attention :: ☆

ᯓ★ YANG JEONGIN

・ arch that back (smau) :: ☆ ・ celebrity :: ☆

ᯓ★ OT8

・ matching your freak :: ☆ ・ she's not very much single :: ☆ ・ niche porn tropes :: ☆ ・ to choke or to get choked :: ☆

ᯓ★ OTHER GROUPS

・ girl!dad jung wooyoung (atz) :: ★ ・ mean dom!park seonghwa (atz) :: ☆ what that tongue can do? (atz seonghwa) :: ☆ ・ vengeance (atz hongjoong) :: ☆

You push off the mirror and walk over to where he’s sprawled. Your sneaker nudges his ribcage just enough to make him roll his head toward you. Those dark eyes blink up, heavy-lidded with frustration.

“It’s been four hours,” you say. “Everyone else left two hours ago.”

“They’re not the ones who have to sell this.” He sits up, elbows on bent knees, fingers raking through damp hair. “The choreo for the rest of the song is fine. It’s this damn dance break. Every time we get to it, I look like I’m at a school dance trying not to get caught by chaperones.”

A laugh escapes you. “That’s oddly specific.”

“I stand by it.” His mouth quirks—that smile that’s undone you since the day you joined KQ’s dance team. “I don’t know how to…I mean, you’re you, and I’m supposed to just—”

He gestures vaguely at the space between your bodies.

“Pretend you want me?” you offer.

“That’s the problem.” His voice drops. The studio’s acoustics catch the words and throw them back, intimate and sharp. “I’m not pretending.”

You know what he means. You’ve felt it before during late-night rehearsals, when his hand lingers on your waist a beat too long. During music video shoots, when he catches your eye in the mirror and holds it while the choreographer barks counts. During countless industry parties where you orbit each other, never colliding.

“Then don’t pretend,” you hear yourself say.

Yunho rises. All six feet of him unfolds with the controlled grace that made him ATEEZ’s main dancer. Standing, he towers over you. You’ve always loved that—how someone so tall can move so fluidly, how he has to angle his head down to meet your gaze.

“Easy to say.” He’s close now. Close enough that you catch the clean scent of his deodorant under the sweat. “Harder to do when there’s a camera three inches from my face and I’m trying not to think about—”

He stops.

“About?”

“Don’t make me say it.”

“Yunho.” You step into his space. The tip of your sneaker touches his. “Say it.”

His jaw tightens. The muscle flexes under skin that’s flushed from exertion and frustration. “About doing it for real. Not for choreo. Not for the cameras.” His hand lifts, hovers near your hip. “We’ve been dancing around this for a year and a half, and now I have to roll my body against yours in front of everyone and act like it doesn’t make me lose my mind.”

The confession hangs between you. “Okay,” you say.

“Okay?”

“Okay, let’s stop pretending.” You reach up—way up, he’s so tall—and curl your fingers into the damp cotton of his shirt. “Run it again. The dance break. But don’t perform it. Do it.”

Something shifts behind his eyes. The frustration melts into an intensity that makes your stomach drop. He nods once.

You take your positions in the center of the room. The mirrors catch both of you from every angle—your shorter frame, his towering one. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead. Yunho pulls out his phone, queues the track to the dance break timestamp.

“Ready?”

“Are you?”

He thumbs the screen.

The music kicks in, a slow, grinding beat layered with synths that drip down the walls. This is the part where he’s supposed to stalk toward you like prey. In rehearsals, he’s been stiff. Mechanical. Counting steps in his head.

Now he moves. His body rolls forward with a languid confidence that wasn’t there thirty minutes ago. Each step is deliberate, a predator’s prowl. His shoulders drop, his hips loosen, and suddenly he’s not ATEEZ’s smiling, puppy-like Yunho. He’s someone else entirely.

Your cue arrives. You meet him halfway, your body slotting against his according to the choreography. Chest to chest, your back arching as his hand spans the small of it. The contact burns through your thin practice tank.

“Better?” Your voice comes out breathier than intended.

“Not done yet.” His free hand slides up your arm. Over your shoulder. Traces your collarbone with one fingertip. “There’s the dip.”

In the choreography, he’s supposed to bend you backward while his mouth hovers near your throat. The camera will be close-up, selling the tension.

He does it now. His palm is a furnace against your spine, lowering you until your hair brushes the floor. His face descends. His lips stop a millimeter from the pulse point beneath your jaw. His breath ghosts over your skin.

You make a sound. It’s small and involuntary and it makes his grip tighten.

“That’s the sound they wanted me to fake getting out of you,” he murmurs against your throat.

“Yunho.”

He pulls you upright. But his hands don’t leave your body. They slide to your hips, fingers pressing into the give of your flesh through your leggings. The choreography calls for him to walk you backward now. He does. Your back hits the mirror.

“The glass is cold,” you gasp.

He just hims, his forehead dropping to yours. The music’s still playing from his phone, tinny and distant, but neither of you are moving to its rhythm anymore. “Tell me to stop.”

“Do you want me to?”

“No.” The word comes out wrecked. “I want to know if you want me to.”

Instead of answering, you fist both hands in his shirt and yank. Your mouths collide. Teeth clack and noses bump before you find the right angle, and when you do, the noise Yunho makes is something between a groan and a growl.

His tongue swipes your bottom lip and you open immediately for him. The kiss deepens, wet and urgent, while his long fingers dig into your hips. He tastes faintly of the iced coffee he downed an hour ago. Bitter and sweet.

You hum and he swallows the sound with another kiss, pressing you harder into the mirror. It rattles. One of his thighs wedges between yours, and the pressure draws a moan from somewhere deep in your chest.

“That,” he breathes. “That’s what I need to hear when we do this for real.”

“Pervert.” But you’re smiling, and he’s smiling, and his hand is sliding from your hip to trace the waistband of your leggings.

“Can I?” His voice is serious now. The playfulness dialed back. He’s checking in, even with his body caging yours against the glass and his eyes so dark the pupils have nearly swallowed the iris.

“Yes,” you say. “Yes, Yunho, please—”

His fingers dip beneath the elastic. The first brush of his fingertips against your skin makes your hips jerk. He’s methodical about it—exploring the jut of your hipbone, the softness of your lower belly, the edge of the lace you wore under your practice clothes like some part of you knew tonight would end here.

“Pretty,” he murmurs, looking down and thumbing the fabric. “Were you hoping?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe.” He clicks his tongue. His fingers travel lower. “I like that.”

The first touch is light. Exploratory. He traces you through the damp lace and his breath hitches like he’s the one being undressed. His forehead falls to your shoulder.

“You’re already wet.”

“You’ve been grinding on me for hours.”

He huffs a laugh against your skin. Then his fingers push the lace aside and there’s nothing between his calloused fingertips and your heat now.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

His middle finger slides through your folds. It’s tentative at first—mapping you, learning the topography of your vulva. When it circles your clit, your head thunks back against the mirror.

“Feel good?”

“So good.”

He applies more pressure. Slow circles that make your thighs tremble on either side of his. His free hand braces against the mirror beside your head, caging you.

“Look at me,” he says.

You do. His face is flushed. A vein stands out in his neck. His lips are swollen from kissing, and he’s watching you with an intensity that makes your stomach clench.

“Want to see what I do to you,” he says. “Been wondering what you look like when someone’s making you feel good.”

“Yunho.”

“What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

Your hips roll against his hand. He takes the hint and slides one long finger inside you. Your inner muscles grip him immediately, and the sound you make echoes off the practice room walls.

He adds a second finger. Stretches you. Curls them forward until he finds a spot that makes your vision white out at the edges.

“Right fucking there, isn’t it?”

You can’t form words. Your nails dig into his shoulders, his shirt bunching under your grip. He works his fingers in and out, crooking them on each withdrawal, grinding the heel of his palm against your clit.

“The way you look right now…” he trails off, voice ragged.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

He does. The kiss is messier now, less coordinated, his tongue fucking into your mouth in the same rhythm as his fingers. Your orgasm builds at the base of your spine—a tightening, a coiling, something gathering strength.

“Close,” you gasp.

“Yeah?” He speeds up. The wet sounds of his fingers moving inside you fill the space between you, obscene and perfect. “Good. Want to feel it. Want you to come on my fingers before I even get you on my cock.”

The filthy words push you closer to the edge. Yunho, who trips over his own feet when he gets distracted, who once accidentally called a producer “mom,” who brings snacks to rehearsals for the whole crew—that Yunho is three fingers deep inside you and talking like he was born to undo you.

“Let go,” he says, lips brushing your ear. “I’ve got you. Come, baby, let me feel it.”

You shatter. The orgasm rolls through you in waves, each one punctuated by the continued thrust of his fingers, your inner walls pulse around them. A broken cry tears from your throat, and he swallows it in another kiss, gentler this time, guiding you through the aftershocks.

When you finally go limp against the mirror, he withdraws his fingers carefully. He brings them to his mouth and licks them clean while maintaining eye contact.

“Better than I imagined,” he says.

“You imagined?” Your panting and sweating, a blissed out expression on your face.

“Obsessively.” He drops his hand to your waist. “But I’m not done with you.” The words send a fresh surge of heat through your already-spent body.

He reads the response in your expression and smiles as his thumb traces your jaw. “You can say no. We can go get ramyeon and pretend this was practice stress and never talk about it. I’ll figure out the choreography some other way.”

“Or?”

“Or you can let me take you to that couch over there and give you a proper stress reliever.”

You push off the mirror. Your legs are still unsteady, but you walk toward the worn leather couch shoved against the far wall.

Yunho follows. His steps are unhurried, but there’s a coiled tension in his shoulders, a predator’s patience. He pulls his shirt over his head as he walks. The fabric drops somewhere behind him, forgotten.

You’ve seen him shirtless before. Costume changes backstage. Summer practices when the air conditioning failed. You’ve seen the lean planes of his chest, the subtle definition of his abdomen, the way his hip bones cut a V that disappears into his waistband.

You’ve never really been allowed to look. Now you stare. And he lets you, a flush creeping up his neck that betrays his bravado.

“Your turn,” he says when you reach the couch.

You strip your tank top off. The sports bra follows. His eyes drop to your chest, and his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “I’m really going to be useless in rehearsals now.”

You laugh as the backs of your knees hit the couch. You go down, and he follows, his long body covering yours. The leather sticks to your bare skin. He braces himself on his forearms, and for a moment he just looks at you—spread out beneath him, hair fanned on the cushion, chest heaving.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says simply. Like a fact. “I’ve wanted to say that for so long.”

“Yunho—”

“No, let me.” He dips his head to kiss the hollow of your throat. “Wanted to tell you for so long.” A kiss to your collarbone. “Wanted to make you feel so good.” A kiss to the swell of your breast. “That you’d never even look at another man again.”

His mouth closes over your nipple. The heat of it arcs through you like an electrical current. He suckles gently, then harder, teeth grazing the sensitive peak until you’re arching off the couch with a cry.

“So pretty,” he murmurs against your skin, closing his eyes.

He switches to the other breast, giving it the same attention while his hand works the waistband of your leggings down over your hips. You lift to help him, and the fabric slides away along with your underwear, leaving you bare beneath him.

He sits back on his heels to tug his own bottoms off. The sight of him kneeling between your spread thighs—his dark hair disheveled, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, his hands pulling his boxers and sweatpants off with unsteady fingers—burns itself into your memory.

When his cock springs free, your mouth goes dry. He’s proportionate. Of course he is—he’s six feet of long limbs and elegant proportions, and his cock is no exception. Long and thick and already slick at the tip.

You reach for him, fingers wrapping around his length. He shudders, hips jerking forward involuntarily. His forehead drops to yours as he lines himself up, the broad head of his cock notching against your entrance. He’s so hard it must ache.

“Go slow,” you whisper. “You’re—”

“I know, baby. I will. I promise.”

The first inch steals your breath. He pushes in, pausing every time your muscles flutter around him. His jaw is clenched so tight the tendons stand out. Sweat beads at his temples.

“Tight,” he grinds out. “So fucking tight. You’re—God, I’m not going to last.”

“Don’t care. Just move.”

He does. A slow, deep thrust that seats him fully inside you. You both groan in unison—a sound that harmonizes, that could almost be musical if it weren’t so wrecked.

“Look at you,” he breathes, pulling back to watch where your bodies join. “Look at how well you take me.”

His next thrust is harder. The couch creaks. Your hands fly to his back, nails raking lines down his shoulder blades that make him hiss.

“Yes,” he growls out, head tipped back.

He sets a rhythm—deep, driving strokes that hit somewhere devastating inside you. The angle has you seeing stars. His pubic bone grinds against your still-sensitive clit with every thrust, and you’re already building toward another peak.

“Yunho, I’m—”

“I know.” He presses closer, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder, and the new angle makes you cry out. “Feel you squeezing me. You’re going to come again, aren’t you? Going to come on my cock this time?”

“Please, please, please—”

He slams into you. Harder. Faster. The dirty talk falls away into wordless sounds—grunts and moans and the wet slap of flesh on flesh. Your leg slips down and hooks around his waist, heel digging into his lower back, pulling him deeper.

“Where?” he gasps. “Tell me where you want it.”

“Inside. Come inside me.”

He groans and buries his face in your neck. His hips lose their rhythm, stuttering into something frantic and desperate. You feel the exact moment he lets go—the hot pulse of his release flooding you, the guttural moan he spills against your skin, the way his whole body shudders like he’s been electrocuted.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” he grunts out. “God, baby, yes.”

The sensation tips you over the edge a second time. Your orgasm crashes through you, milking him, drawing every last drop from his trembling body.

For a long moment, neither of you move. He stays buried inside you, softening. His breath is hot and damp against your throat. Your fingers trace lazy patterns on his sweat-slicked back. 

“Well,” you finally say, voice hoarse. “That choreography’s not going to be a problem anymore.”

He laughs. The sound vibrates through his chest and into yours. “No. Definitely not.”

He lifts his head. His face is flushed, hair a disaster, lips kiss-bruised and swollen. He’s never looked more beautiful.

“Stay tonight,” he says. “My place. We can order food, watch something stupid, and I can do that again in an actual bed.”

“Very romantic.”

“I’m a romantic guy.” He grins, and there’s the Yunho you know—the sweet one, the genuine one, peeking through the man who just fucked you senseless on a practice room couch. “Also I want to wake up next to you.”

Warmth blooms in your chest. “Okay,” you say.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But you’re buying the food.”

“Deal.” He kisses you. Soft and slow this time.

He pulls out gently, and the loss of him makes you wince. He notices and presses a kiss to your forehead before hunting for tissues to clean you up.

The aftercare is surprisingly tender for two people who just defiled company property. He wipes you down with care, murmuring praises the whole time. You’re so beautiful. You did so well. I can’t believe you’re real.

When you’re both dressed, wrinkled practice clothes and all, he takes your hand.

“Ready?”

“For ramyeon or for round two?”

He laughs. Pulls you toward the door. “Both. Definitely both.”

TAGLIST—

The stadium is sweltering hot, the crowd is screeching between innings, and if one more guy spills beer on you, you might actually lose it. You usually love baseball games, and have so much fun shouting for your favorite team and eyeballing the hot players in their tight pants. Usually.

Maybe you just haven’t had enough to drink. There’s no reason you shouldn’t be having fun with your friends, leaning into them and whispering about the game, or more commonly, the players you have a massive crush on.

Or maybe you’re sitting there thinking about your date from last night, the guy who talked way too much and didn’t ask a single question about you. You didn’t even want to go, he was a friend of a friend, and you owed her a favor, and he was kind of cute, so you figured, why not? Big mistake.

You haven’t sworn off dating, but your recent string of bad dates has become particularly exhausting. You love your friends, but there’s a part of you that wants to go to these games with somebody else. A partner. Preferably in a romantic capacity. 

There’s a group of guys on the right of you, and Mina keeps leaning forward, trying to make jokes with them. They laugh and joke back, and you try your best to laugh and play along. You catch a few of their faces when you glance over, and Jesus fuck, they’re all good-looking.

Your friends are on the other side of you, definitely drunk, and having the time of their lives. You resort to actually watching the game, trying to focus on something to drown out the chaos around you. A batter on the other team strikes out, so terribly that you almost feel bad for them.

“Ouch…that’s embarrassing," you mutter under your breath.

“It’s one strikeout,” a voice from next to you says, almost annoyed. “There’s plenty of game left to play.”

You whip your head to see the man sitting next to you, smirking as he sips his beer. There’s a Giants hat on his head, which makes you laugh. They’re losing pretty badly right now.

“Giants fan?” you ask, as if it isn’t obvious.

“I take it you’re not,” he observes.

“I don’t really have a favorite,” you say honestly. “But there’s at least 5 more teams I’d pick before the Giants.”

He scoffs at that, but you catch a faint hint of a smile as he turns back to watch the game. He’s really, really handsome. You turn to your friends to hide your smile as you sip your drink. 

You make snide comments as the game goes on, and he dishes them right back at you. One of the players on your team drops a ball, and you let out a groan.

“That’s your guy?” the man whispers next to you. 

“Hush,” you say back, because it’s the only thing you can think of without making prolonged eye contact and stuttering over your words. You try to hide your smirk but can’t deny the flirty edge that the conversation has. 

You’re only half listening to Sana drone on about how she hates her new boss when the giant screen above you flashes pink. Bold words appear on screen.

KISS CAM.

The camera bounces around from couple to couple, a series of cheers echoing throughout the crowd. Sometimes it’s cute, like when the people on screen are obviously dating, but half the time it looks so awkward when random strangers pucker up just because of a little attention from the camera.

It takes a second to register when your face pops up on the screen.

Your face. And the man next to you. The man you met today, the man whose name you don’t even know.

“Do it!” you hear your friends laughing beside you, egging you on.

You turn and see his friends doing the same, patting him on the back and hollering at him. You make eye contact with him and can’t help but laugh. 

You give him a shrug. “Why not?” you say. It’s harmless. Plus, he’s stupid hot, and you’d be dumb to turn down a kiss from a hot stranger, even if it is in front of thousands of people.

“Ah, what the hell.” He sighs, smiling, and leans forward.

Your lips connect, and you hear the crowd erupt around you. You feel the sound vibrate through your seat more than you can hear it. His lips are so warm and soft, and everything fades away for a moment. It’s tender, surprisingly so. 

You break the kiss first after a few seconds. Four seconds? Or ten? You lost count, honestly. You pull back in time to see his eyes flutter open. He smiles at you, warm and genuine. God, he is really handsome.

The crackle of the announcer over the loudspeakers catches your attention, and you remember where you are all at once. You feel your chest tighten, suddenly very aware of what had just transpired.

“I’m Seungmin,” he says, and you snap out of the panic you were about to enter. 

You introduce yourself. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“That’s one hell of an icebreaker,” he jokes. You both laugh, turning your eyes towards the field before the embarrassment sets in again.

You find it increasingly hard to keep your eyes off Seungmin as the game continues. He bumps your elbow every time he leaps out of his seat to cheer on his team, and you have to pretend you don’t notice. You smell his cologne when he leans in too close to make a snide comment, and you have to roll your eyes to avoid making eye contact with him. Trying to act cool, like he doesn’t do anything to you, is pure torture.

The game ends 6-5. You didn’t pay too much attention to the score, just enough to tease Seungmin when the Giants slipped behind. It didn’t matter though, they ended up pulling through and winning tonight.

“I never doubted them for a second,” he says smugly.

“You probably should have,” you say back, laughing.

Your friends get up to leave, and you turn to follow them, collecting your empty drink cup as you walk out. Just then, you feel a tug on your wrist.

“Wait! Uh…can I get your number?” Seungmin asks, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Your eyes light up as you look back at him and nod. The two of you exchange numbers, ignoring the way both of your friend groups snicker and tease behind you, before going your separate ways. 

The whole walk back to the train, your friends talk about the day, their plans, and their lives, but you’re not really listening. It’s hard to when your mind is full of the handsome stranger you’d just met minutes ago. And you especially can’t stop thinking about the kiss.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Mina says, nudging your shoulder. 

You shrug your shoulders and turn to stare out the window. “Just tired. We had a long day.”

She doesn’t buy it, leaning closer into your space to get a better look at your face.

“Are you thinking about the Giants guy?” she says, definitely teasing you. You shoot her a glare and roll your eyes, but you feel your face grow warm and hope it doesn’t show.

You get home, you shower, eat some leftover pasta that’s been marinating in your fridge, and collapse into bed. By this point, you’ve mostly convinced yourself that today was a one-off. A funny story to bring up at dinner. “Remember that one time…” your friends will say. That’s just what happens. You meet someone fun at an event, and then life takes over.

But as soon as your head hits the pillow, your phone buzzes on the nightstand.

Unknown: giants won btw. in case you needed a reminder.

You roll your eyes before saving the contact and typing a reply, smiling to yourself like an idiot.

You: a whole text JUST to brag? Seungmin: just making sure you knew Y: I was THERE S: yeah but did you watch or were you distracted Y: no idea what you’re talking about S: mhm… Y: congrats on the win, don’t let it get to your head!

You find yourself checking your phone more than you’d like to admit over the next few days. Your heart skips a beat every time you get a notification on your phone. Sometimes, he says good morning and asks about your day. Sometimes he just sends a dumb meme with absolutely no context. Or provides commentary for whatever game is on that night. 

Today’s message from him starts differently than usual.

Seungmin: hypothetically You: hypothetically… S: if I needed a date for a wedding Y: okay… S: would you go with me? Y: what’s in it for me? S: you get to feel REALLY GOOD about yourself for doing a favor for little old me S: and a free trip to Jeju…

Your eyes go wide at that.

Y: it’s in JEJU!? S: yeah my cousin’s loaded or something Y: hypothetically it would be a yes S: okay great! S: another hypothetical… Y: mhm S: ….i told my mom i was bringing my girlfriend? Y: you have a girlfriend? S: NO no no i don’t have a girlfriend, that’s the problem Y: i see… S: so uh would you also hypothetically pretend to be my girlfriend? Y: you can’t tell your mom you were lying? S: it’s…complicated. i’d rather not be lectured or have her try and set me up with all of the bridesmaids

You’d also prefer that, but you don’t mention it.

Y: hmm…hypothetically one weekend wouldn’t kill me S: oh my god you’re a lifesaver Y: hypothetically? S: super not hypothetically. very realistically actually Y: okay fine. when is it? S: next weekend Y: you’re good at planning things S: please? Y: if i say yes too fast does it make me look like a loser for not having any plans already S: if you say yes too fast it makes you look like an absolute saint for saving my ass Y: would you look at that! i’m free

You close your eyes, excited for the upcoming weekend. But not too excited. That would be too obvious.

The airport is crowded and much too noisy for this early in the morning. Seungmin finds you easily, waving you down by the check-in counters. He’s taller than you remembered, cleaned up nicely, but definitely sleepy.

“Hi, stranger,” you say as you walk up to him. He greets you with a sleepy smile, and you notice how cute he looks bundled up in a hoodie and his tousled hair.

“Ready to lie to my whole family?” he says, laughing, like he can’t believe he’s about to do exactly that.

To be honest, you’re not sure. You hardly know this man, but if there’s a chance you continue seeing him, the last thing you want to do is put on a false persona or lie about your guys’ history.

By the time you settled into your seats, Seungmin insisted on getting the window seat, and you had a couple of hours to get your story straight.

“How long have we been dating?” you ask as the plane steadies after takeoff. 

“Sorry?”

“In your hypothetical world that you told your family about. How long have we been together? Where did we meet? We need to get our story straight!”

“Ahh okay. So, we’ve been together four months.”

“Specific, believable, I like it. How did we meet?”

“The truth. Baseball game kiss cam. I literally couldn’t make it up if I tried,” he laughs.

“Okay, fair.”

You talk about his family and what to expect for the rest of the flight. Every family has its drama, quirky relatives, and secrets. The flight wasn’t long enough to cover everything, but you feel confident you know who to avoid and who’s safe to talk to.

The plane lands, and you find yourself hoping they like you. Hoping that after all this, Seungmin still likes you too.

The hotel is massive, spewing bright neutral colors and modern accents. You’re still marveling at the lobby, looking at the ginormous chandelier above you, when Seungmin waves a keycard in front of your face.

“C’mon, I want to shower before dinner.”

And the room is just as nice as the lobby. It’s large, with a balcony facing the ocean attached. You’re high up enough where the noise from the street won’t bother you when you try to sleep, which you’re grateful for. The giant king bed sits in the center, surrounded by beautiful artwork.

Giant king bed.

One bed. Singular.

You set your stuff down, frowning at the arrangement. “It’s a little soon to share a bed, don’t you think?” You try to come off as playful, but your heart is beating faster at the thought of sleeping next to a man you hardly know.

“I know, I’m sorry. I should’ve mentioned that.” His apology is sincere, and you can tell this weekend is already stressing him out.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m just joking. I guess they wouldn’t really have believed us if you asked for separate rooms anyway, right?”

He relaxes his shoulders at your comment, nodding in agreement and putting down his stuff. He disappears into the bathroom, and you take the time to flop down onto the bed.

Everything’s going to be fine. People share beds all the time. Sana has slept in your bed more times than you can count after a night out, and you’re perfectly fine with her crowding your space or snoring in your ear.

You’re still thinking about a thousand different ways this weekend could go wrong when Seungmin comes out of the bathroom, showered and dressed. 

“We have a couple of hours to kill. Wanna go for a walk?”

And so you slip your shoes back on and head back down to the lobby.

The fresh air feels nice and warm with a hint of sea salt. The two of you make your way down to the beach and start to walk along the shoreline. Seungmin kicks off his shoes and rolls up his pantlegs before heading closer to the water.

You follow suit, slipping off your sandals and skipping towards the water. You flick a bit of water up with your toes, and it lands on him.

“Hey!” he shouts, laughing, flicking it back at you. You squeal and run, holding your pants up to keep from dragging them through the water.

The wet sand sticks to your feet as you pretend to run, only getting a couple of yards away before two arms wrap around you to stop you in your tracks. Your shrieks turn into laughter as you twist in his grip, trying to get away. Your feet kick in the air as he lifts you a couple of inches off the ground. 

“Put me down!” you cry out. He carries you a couple of steps before putting you down. You playfully push him, both of you still laughing. You notice the wrinkles around his eyes as he smiles, and your heart swells with joy. Just joking around like this just feels so comfortable with him. 

The two of you keep walking down the beach, commenting on the beautiful view or the temperature of the water.

“Thank you for coming,” he says after a while. “I know it’s weird and we barely know each other and—”

“Seungmin.”

“Uh…yeah?”

“Hush. I’m having fun.”

He nods, shoving his hands in his pockets and keeps walking, and you watch his worried face disappear into a smile.

The sun starts to set before he suggests you head back to change into clothes for dinner. You agree, and he loosely wraps his arm around you as you walk back to the hotel.

The rehearsal dinner is held in a banquet room just off the hotel’s main lobby. The room is draped in white fabric and well lit, the kind of setup that would cost at least three or four times your rent. You hardly have any time to admire it before you’re shuffled through conversations, meeting Seungmin’s relatives.

“This is my girlfriend,” he says about a dozen times before you have to remind yourself that that’s not actually true. You feel your heart flutter every time a relative comments on how cute the two of you are, though.

His aunt whispers something in his ear that makes his ears go red. His uncle tries to get the two of you to take shots with him before Seungmin eventually whisks you away from the conversation.

There are a few toasts, most of which drone on forever, with Seungmin fidgeting in his seat. You want to ask if he’s okay, but you have a feeling that he isn’t up to talking about whatever family-related issues are causing his stress.

“Almost done, I promise,” he says low in your ear as he guides you to what you’re hoping is the last group of people.

There’s a woman in a long white dress, not quite a wedding dress, standing at the front of the room towards the podium, accompanied by a tall man in a suit. You’re guessing the bride and groom.

“Seungmin!” The bride says warmly. “I’m so glad you came!”

“Hi, Yuri. Congratulations.” His voice is flatter than you’ve ever heard it before.

“Cousin!” his cousin exclaims as he pats him on the back. Seungmin introduces him as Jiho, his mother’s sister’s son.

“You must be the girlfriend! I’ve heard about you,” Yuri says. She flicks her eyes up and down, as if she’s assessing you. You’ve gotten it from most of his family members, but she’s been the most obvious one to do it tonight. Probably bride confidence, or one too many glasses of champagne.

“All good things, I hope,” you say, sipping on your glass of wine.

“We’ll let you get back to it,” Seungmin says quickly, leaving you almost no time to wish them a good evening before he guides you out of the room and to the elevators.

“Are you okay?” you ask. He’s noticeably stiffer, adjusting his clothes like they’re too uncomfortable now.

He makes eye contact with you and seems to realize that he’s sending a million different distress signals. “I’m fine, sorry. It’s just family stuff.”

You nod your head in understanding, not wanting to push it further. The elevator dings and you step into it, feeling the warmth of his hand on the small of your back.

“Do you think they suspected anything?” you ask as he unlocks the door to your room, trying to be lighthearted.

“Never, you did perfect,” he says, with a genuine smile you haven’t seen since earlier on the beach.

You sit on the bed, letting Seungmin use the bathroom to shower and change into pajamas first. This is possibly the strangest first date you’ve ever been on, if you can even call it that. You text your friends back, updating them on the day, and lock your phone before they can barrage you with questions you don’t feel like answering.

“All yours,” he says, stepping out of the steamy bathroom. He’s drying his damp hair with a towel, fully in his pjs, but he looks so handsome like this. You stop yourself from staring too hard before you take your turn getting unready from the day.

By the time you come out of the bathroom, Seungmin’s not in the room. You notice the balcony door is slightly open and see a figure standing outside, leaning against the rail. You slide the glass door open and join him outside.

“All good out here?” you ask.

“Yeah, just…thinking.”

“About?”

“I’m really glad you came with me.” He turns to look at you, sincerity written all over his face. He gently grabs your arm and pulls you in for a hug.

He smells so nice. You get a whiff of his shampoo mixed with his laundry detergent, but then catch something else underneath it all. It’s just Seungmin. A man you hardly know who has managed to weave his way through your every thought in just a few weeks.

You pull back a moment, offering a smile, and he tucks a damp strand of hair behind your ear. Your pulse quickens, the way it always does when he looks at you like that. 

“Can I…?” he starts, tipping his head down slightly, and you know what he’s asking.

You answer by closing the gap yourself.

It’s soft, much softer than the first. There’s no crowd counting down, no friends drunkenly cheering you on–just you and Seungmin, under the moonlight in a quiet moment. He wraps one arm around you to pull you tight against him, and you snake your hands around his neck to ground yourself. The ocean’s waves crash in the background faintly, and you feel the nerves from before fall away. It’s more comfortable than you were expecting, not that you were expecting anything.

When he finally pulls back, he keeps his forehead against yours. If he loosens his grip on you, you might fall over. You hope he doesn’t.

“Ready to lie to more people tomorrow?” he laughs sheepishly.

You laugh, kissing him again in response. If there’s something still unsaid between you, it can wait until tomorrow.

The morning is a bit of a blur. You get dressed and make your way over to the venue, a beautiful building that seems like it was made just for weddings. Seungmin is antsy the whole time, holding your hand through it all like letting go would mean certain death. The ceremony is beautiful, and you sit right beside him through it all. It’s been a lovely weekend being a plus one at a wedding for people you just met yesterday.

At the reception, you’re standing near the edge of the dance floor waiting for Seungmin to come back from the bar when Yuri comes over to you.

“Hi!” she says brightly.

“Congratulations again,” you say. “The ceremony was beautiful.” “Thank you so much.” She glances around, maybe looking for someone. “It must be so weird for you to be here.”

“Yeah, maybe a little,” you shrug. “I don’t know many people, but Seungmin’s been the best at introducing me to everyone.”

She takes a sip of her champagne. “You’re brave for showing up to your boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend’s wedding. I don’t know if I’d be able to handle it.”

Her voice replays in your head. Your boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend's wedding.

Your head tilts sideways, and your heart sinks to the floor. Maybe you misunderstood her. “Sorry, what?”

Yuri’s face flickers with surprise. “Oh, I’m sorry. He must not have told you…”

Your heart feels like it’s going to fall out of your ass. You excuse yourself, setting your glass on the nearest surface and high-tailing it out of there. You pass the bar on the way and catch Seungmin’s surprised face when you don’t stop.

The elevator doors close, and you realize how fast your heart is beating. Who cares if the bride is his ex-girlfriend? You certainly don’t have room to be jealous, he isn’t actually yours to be jealous over. Still, it would have been nice to get a heads-up.

You throw your shoes off when you get into the room and head straight for the balcony. Your stomach starts brewing something nasty, and you feel like you might throw up if you don’t get your breathing under control soon. The breeze feels nice against your face, and the ocean serves as calming white noise as you take deep breaths.

The balcony door opens behind you, and you hear slow footsteps behind you. You don’t turn around.

“You could have told me,” you say, trying not to cry.

“I know,” Seungmin says as he approaches the railing next to you. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? Why are you even here?”

“I’m here for my cousin, and my mother would have thrown a fit if I didn’t come.” You scoff. “But still, I should have told you. I just didn’t know how.”

You stay silent for a moment. “I get why you didn’t.” The words surprise you as they come out of your mouth. But it’s the truth. You do get it. “It still would’ve been nice to know.” “That’s fair. I really am sorry.”

You both fall quiet for a moment before you break the silence again. “She’s marrying your cousin?”

He laughs for a moment and nods his head. “Yeah. Like I said, family drama.”

“I’m really sorry, that’s a lot to handle.”

“It’s fine. It was years ago. We dated in college, they got together after we broke up. I’m pretty sure there was some overlap, but it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Do you…,” you start to ask a question, but hesitate. You’re not afraid of the answer, per se. You’re afraid of the insecure girl bottled up deep inside, afraid that revealing her means showing your true feelings. Leaving everything out in the open, vulnerable. 

“Do you still love her?”

“No.” He answers quickly and without hesitation. It eases the butterflies in your stomach, but now he knows. He knows that you’d been thinking about it, that you care. 

You nod slowly, accepting his answer. He takes a step closer, grabbing a hold of your hand as it dangles by your side. The air on the balcony shifts as he takes a step closer, dragging his hand up your arm before resting it on your cheek.

“Let me show you.” It’s a request that you gladly accept with a nod as he leans in to kiss you. It’s gentle yet passionate, showing you he means what he says. 

He walks you backwards back into the hotel room, sliding the glass door behind you as he guides you back into the room. The lamp lights are on, and your shawl and heels are kicked to the corner as you try not to trip on them. The fan humming does little to mask the noise of your heavy breathing between kisses.

Seungmin’s hands are everywhere. Cupping your face, sliding down your neck, gripping your waist, making good on his word. He kisses you deeper, tongue sliding against yours as he backs you further into the room.

He guides you down gently on the bed, and you can feel how hard he is through his dress pants. It makes the heat between your thighs grow, your mind suddenly filled with nothing but want. He snakes a hand behind you to unzip your dress and pull it down.

“You look so beautiful tonight,” he says, kissing down your body. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it before. I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

You’re left in your lace bra and panties, and his mouth comes down hot against your body as he leaves open-mouthed kisses all the way down. His hands cup your breasts, and you let out a moan when his thumbs brush against your nipples.

“Seungmin, please,” you breathe out as you pull him closer.

He unhooks your bra and drops it to the floor. His mouth closes around your nipple, sucking and flicking his tongue around it. You tug at his hair in response, basking in the feeling.

Your hands fight with his shirt buttons as he crawls back up your body to kiss you again. He takes off his dress shirt and peels off his undershirt, exposing his lean torso. He looks so hot all disheveled like this.

You reach for his pants next. “Off,” you demand. He sheds the rest of his clothes quickly, cock springing free. It’s hard and bright red, already glistening at the tip. You reach down between you to give him a couple of strokes, and he lets out a deep moan at your touch.

He hooks his fingers into your panties and rips them off next, grabbing at your thighs to spread them wide. You’re soaked, you can feel it. He stares in awe.

“So fucking perfect,” he mutters before situating himself between your thighs.

He places a kiss on your inner thigh before dipping between your folds, licking at your entrance. He works his way around your sopping cunt, and you feel the heat in your belly grow.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” you moan as he moves to pay attention to your clit.

He hums against you in response, sending shockwaves through your whole body. He finds a rhythm that makes your head spin and your muscles tighten as you head barreling towards your peak.

“I’m gonna—fuck, Seungmin!” You cry out, hips bucking and shaking against him as you come in his mouth. Your body is trembling, and he slowly works you through your orgasm.

You pull him back up once your body stops shaking and taste yourself on his lips. You kiss him sloppily, not bothering to stop for a breath. “Need you, right now.”

He positions himself at your entrance, pausing for a breath. “Ready?” he asks. You nod, feeling like you’re going to explode if he waits another second.

He pushes in slowly, keeping eye contact with you the entire time. You feel the stretch inch by inch, feeling so perfectly full as he bottoms out. He drops his forehead against yours when he’s fully buried inside you.

“I could stay here all fucking night,” he moans. “You feel so fucking good already.”

“Seungmin, please move.”

He starts with slow, steady thrusts that quickly turn rough and passionate. The bed creaks below you in time with his movements. You wrap his legs around him, making him hit deep inside. You let your nails rake at his back, and he lets out a deep moan.

As soon as he angles his hips and hits the sensitive spot inside you, you’re seeing stars. His movements quicken, and the room is filled with the slapping of skin against skin. You feel the heat come back, about to bubble over once again.

One of his hands slips between you, thumb making circles around your clit in time with his thrusts. You feel your body squeeze around him, cunt pulsing, and your vision whites out.

“Holy shit, Seungmin!” you cry out his name over and over as he fucks you through another orgasm.

He follows moments later, the feeling of you clenching around his cock throwing him into his own orgasm. His hips stutter as he buries himself deep inside you, choking out your name as he comes. He collapses over you, and both of you try to catch your breath.

After a minute, he rolls over next to you and pulls you close, tracing circles on your back. Your skin is slick with sweat, and you feel sticky, but it all feels so right.

“Please stay,” he whispers against your hair. “After this weekend. I want to take you out. Properly.”

You nuzzle your face deeper into the crook of his neck. The balcony door is still cracked open, letting in a gentle breeze that cools your warm skin.

“I’d like that,” you say, looking up to give him a gentle kiss. 

It may have been a weird weekend, but you have no regrets. Not when it brought you here, on an island in the middle of the ocean, in the arms of a ridiculously dorky, handsome man.

a/n: thank you all so much for your support! sorry again if this feels rushed, i had so much fun writing it i've just been SO busy!!

permanent taglist: @11racha @jisuperboard @kloversung @sourtae @binniebb @b4echo @hanjinology @eyyyylucieeee @bbyyuuu @viisstrayy @starlostjisung @stryscribbles @miniseungkimcami @embobema @sssoulesss @awkwardlyshawna @fuzzylard @0omillo0 @jup-exe @jaziona92 @cassie264 @chikmentendies @inlovewithstraykids

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,

But what do you do when they're the ones who keep coming after you?

You weren't rude. When Jisung flashed that bright smile or when Minho looked at you with those sharp, teasing eyes, you let the conversations happen. You laughed at their jokes, answered their questions, and tried to keep things light.

You just never expected it would lead here.

The room felt too warm, the air thick with the sound of skin slapping against skin and low, broken moans. You sat frozen at the edge of the bed, eyes wide, heart hammering as you watched something no one on campus had ever seen.

Jisung was in complete control.

You'd always thought it was Minho who held the power between them. The way they acted in public, the way Minho's sharp tongue and confident stare seemed to lead everything, made it easy to assume he was the one calling the shots behind closed doors too.

You were so wrong.

Jisung had Minho pinned beneath him, wrists trapped high above the older boy's head with one strong hand. His hips snapped forward hard and deep, pounding into Minho with a steady, ruthless rhythm that made the bed creak. Minho's back arched off the mattress, a desperate groan slipping from his lips every time Jisung drove back in.

With his free hand, Jisung wrapped his fingers around Minho's leaking cock, stroking him in time with every powerful thrust. Wet, filthy sounds filled the room as precum dripped over Jisung's knuckles.

You bit down hard on your lower lip, your throat suddenly dry. Heat pooled low in your belly as you watched Jisung dominate the usually cocky, composed Minho so completely. Minho's usual sharp gaze was gone, replaced by glassy, half-lidded eyes and flushed cheeks. His lips parted on a shaky moan, body trembling under Jisung's relentless pace.This was the side of them no one else knew.

And now... you were seeing it all.

Jisung's dark eyes suddenly flicked up and locked onto yours.

Even as he kept fucking Minho with deep, punishing thrusts, that wicked smirk slowly spread across his lips. His hips never faltered. The wet slap of skin against skin continued, steady and filthy. His hand kept pumping Minho's throbbing cock, thumb teasing over the slick head, spreading the mess of precum with every stroke.

Minho let out a broken whine beneath him, hips twitching helplessly, but Jisung didn't even glance down. His gaze stayed glued to you, burning with heat and amusement.

"What are you watching so intently, baby?" he asked, voice low and teasing, slightly rough from exertion. Another hard thrust made Minho moan louder, but Jisung just grinned wider. "You've been sitting there biting that pretty lip the whole time."

He gave a particularly deep roll of his hips, making Minho's back arch sharply off the bed. A shaky gasp escaped the older boy, but Jisung still didn't look away from you.

"Why are you so far away?" Jisung continued, cocky and breathless. His fingers tightened around Minho's wrists as he pounded into him harder, the bed creaking under them. "Don't you want to come closer? Don't tell me you're just gonna sit there and watch when you could be right here... touching... tasting... letting us make you feel good too."

His smirk deepened, eyes darkening as he took in your flushed face and nervous posture.

"Come on, sweetheart. Don't be shy. Move closer. Join us."

Minho's hazy, pleasure-drunk eyes managed to find you too. His lips parted on another moan, voice wrecked as he breathed out, "Yeah... come here..."

The air felt even thicker now, heavy with the scent of sex and the sound of their bodies moving together. Your heart raced wildly in your chest as Jisung kept staring at you, never slowing down, waiting for you to decide.

Your hand started moving with more confidence, stroking Minho's thick, leaking cock from base to tip in slow, steady pumps. Your fingers squeezed gently around the swollen head on every upstroke, spreading the slick precum that kept dripping out. Minho moaned louder, his hips twitching up into your fist, chasing the pleasure you were giving him.

Softly, almost shyly, you called out, "Ji..."

Jisung's dark eyes immediately flicked back to you. That wicked smirk still played on his lips, but his gaze softened with heat when he saw the way you were looking at him.

The second your eyes met, you leaned in closer. Your free hand reached up to cup his jaw as you pressed your lips against his in a tentative, hungry kiss.

Jisung groaned into your mouth, the sound low and rough. He kissed you back instantly, deep and possessive, his tongue sliding against yours while he never stopped thrusting into Minho. His hips kept that steady, filthy rhythm, pounding deep into the older boy with every wet slap of skin.

Your hand never stopped moving on Minho's cock either, stroking him faster now, twisting lightly at the tip just like Jisung had shown you. Minho whimpered beneath the both of you, his body trembling between Jisung's relentless thrusts and your eager hand.

Jisung pulled back just enough to nip at your lower lip, breathing hot against your mouth. "Fuck... that's it, baby," he murmured, voice thick with lust. "Keep stroking him just like that."

He captured your lips again, harder this time, tongue exploring your mouth as the three of you moved together, your hand pumping Minho's throbbing length, Jisung fucking him deep and steady, and your lips locked with Jisung's in a messy, heated kiss.

The room felt impossibly hot, filled with the sounds of moans, wet skin, and heavy breathing. You were right in the middle of it now, and it felt dangerously good.

Jisung's tongue moved hot and deep against yours, kissing you like he couldn't get enough. Right underneath you both, Minho stared up with wide, glassy eyes, completely lost in the sight of you two making out.

"Mmhh... Jisung-ah..." Minho whined softly, voice breathy and needy. "You two look so pretty kissing like that...  It's making me so hard..."

His words came out all shaky and enamored, hips twitching helplessly as he watched your lips slide together, tongues teasing. He looked completely gone, cheeks flushed dark red.

You felt a rush of confidence and doubled down on your hand, stroking Minho's throbbing cock faster, squeezing tighter around the swollen head, letting your thumb rub over the slick tip on every pass.

"Ahh—!" Minho let out a high, whiny moan, his whole body jerking. "Fuck... that feels so good... don't stop, please—" His hole suddenly clenched hard around Jisung's cock, pulsing tight and greedy.Jisung groaned loudly, breaking the kiss just enough to look down at him.

"Shit, Hyung... you're squeezing me so fucking tight," he growled, voice rough with pleasure. He slammed his hips forward harder, driving deep into Minho with every thrust. "All because she's jerking you off so nicely, huh? Such a greedy little hyung..."

Minho whimpered pathetically, eyes fluttering as another broken moan spilled from his lips. "Jisung-ah... it's too much... feels too good..." His voice cracked into a whine, body trembling between Jisung's relentless pounding and your eager hand flying over his leaking cock.

You kept kissing Jisung again, tongues tangled, while your fist pumped Minho faster, the wet, filthy sounds filling the room. Minho kept whimpering and moaning beneath you both, completely lost in the pleasure you and Jisung were giving him.

Minho started squirming beneath you both, his hips twitching uncontrollably as pleasure built higher and higher inside him.

"Ahh— Jisung-ah..." he whined, voice high and shaky. His wrists flexed uselessly against Jisung's firm grip, but he couldn't break free. "It's coming... I think I'm gonna— mmph— I'm getting close..."

His body twisted and arched, legs trembling as he tried to push up into your stroking hand and back onto Jisung's cock at the same time. He looked so desperate, flushed and sweaty, eyes half-closed and glassy with need.You didn't slow down. Your hand kept pumping his throbbing, leaking cock faster, slick sounds growing louder and wetter with every stroke. Jisung kept thrusting deep and steady into him, never missing a beat.

Minho let out another broken whimper, his back bowing off the bed. "Please... it feels too good... I can't— I can't hold it..." His thighs shook, hole pulsing rhythmically around Jisung's cock as his orgasm crept closer. Precum spilled messily over your fingers, making every stroke even smoother and filthier.He kept squirming and writhing between the two of you, soft needy sounds spilling from his lips nonstop. "Jisung-ah... baby... your hand— ahh! Don't stop... please don't stop..."

Minho kept squirming and whining underneath you, his body twisting desperately as his orgasm crept closer. You couldn't resist anymore.You pulled away from Jisung's lips and turned your full attention to Minho. Without a word, you leaned down and pressed your mouth against his, shutting him up mid-whimper with a deep, hungry kiss.

Minho moaned loudly into your mouth, the sound vibrating against your lips. His eyes fluttered shut as he kissed you back eagerly, tongue sliding messily against yours. He tasted sweet and desperate, every little whimper and gasp spilling straight into the kiss.

Your hand never stopped moving, stroking his throbbing, leaking cock faster and tighter, thumb rubbing over the slick head with every pass. At the same time, Jisung kept pounding into him with deep, powerful thrusts, driving him closer and closer to the edge.

Between your eager hand and Jisung's relentless cock, Minho was completely lost.

He squirmed harder beneath you, hips bucking wildly as pleasure crashed through him. His kiss turned sloppy and needy, soft whiny sounds escaping into your mouth with every thrust and stroke.Jisung groaned above you both, still gripping Minho's wrists tight. "That's it, Hyung... let her kiss you while we make you cum. You're so close, aren't you?"

Minho could only moan helplessly against your lips, his body trembling violently. His hole clenched tight around Jisung's cock as his orgasm finally hit.

With a broken, muffled cry into your kiss, Minho came hard.

His cock pulsed and throbbed in your hand, shooting thick, hot ropes of cum over your fingers and across his own stomach. His whole body shook and arched, legs quivering as wave after wave of bliss washed over him. He kept kissing you through it, desperate and sloppy, whimpering softly every time another spurt spilled out.

Jisung didn't stop thrusting, drawing out every bit of Minho's orgasm while you kept stroking him gently, milking every last drop.

Minho was still trembling beneath you, lips parted and breathing hard against yours as the last waves of his orgasm faded. His cum coated your fingers and painted messy streaks across his flushed stomach.

But Jisung didn't stop.

His hips kept moving, thrusting deep and steady into Minho's tight, clenching heat. The wet, filthy sound of skin slapping against skin grew louder as Jisung chased his own release, never slowing down even as Minho whimpered softly from the overstimulation.

"Hyung... fuck, you feel so good," Jisung groaned, voice rough and low. His grip on Minho's wrists tightened as he drove in harder, hips snapping forward with purpose. "Gonna fill you up... gonna cum so deep inside you."

Minho let out a shaky, whiny moan, still dazed from his own climax. His hole fluttered weakly around Jisung's thick cock, squeezing him with every thrust.

You stayed close, one hand gently stroking Minho's softening cock while you watched Jisung's face twist with pleasure. His eyes were dark, focused, lips parted as heavy breaths escaped him. A few more powerful thrusts and Jisung's rhythm started to falter. His hips stuttered, pressing deep as he buried himself to the hilt inside Minho.

With a low, broken groan, Jisung came.

His cock pulsed hard inside Minho, spilling thick, hot ropes of cum deep into him. He kept grinding slowly, pushing every drop as far as it would go, hips twitching with each wave of pleasure. A deep, satisfied moan rumbled in his chest as he filled Minho completely, claiming him in the most intimate way.

Only when the last spurts finally faded did Jisung's movements slow. He stayed buried inside Minho for a long moment, breathing heavily, sweat glistening on his skin.

Minho whimpered softly beneath the both of you, voice weak and wrecked.

"Jisung-ah... so full... I can feel you..."Jisung leaned down, pressing a lazy kiss to Minho's forehead, then turned his head to look at you with that familiar cocky smirk, eyes still hazy with pleasure.

"Your turn next, baby," he murmured, voice dripping with promise.

Jisung stayed buried deep inside Minho for a few more seconds, savoring the warm, slick heat around his cock. Slowly, he pulled out with a wet sound, a thick trail of his cum leaking from Minho's used hole.He finally released Minho's wrists and leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against the older boy's sweaty forehead.

Minho let out a soft, tired whimper, still catching his breath, his body limp and glowing with aftershocks.Jisung turned his head to look at you, that familiar cocky smirk returning to his lips, eyes dark and hungry.

"Hyung," he said, still looking at you but speaking to Minho, "you've been such a good boy tonight. Do you want a reward?"

Minho's glassy eyes fluttered open, a weak but eager nod following his words. "Yes... please..."

Jisung's smirk widened. He ran a gentle hand through Minho's damp hair before asking softly, "Do you want to eat her out? Since you were so good for both of us... you can taste her while I watch."

Minho's breath hitched. Even in his blissed-out state, a spark of desire lit up in his eyes. He turned his head toward you, cheeks still flushed, voice coming out shy and whiny.

"Can I...? Please... I want to taste you... I'll be good... I'll make you feel really good too..."

He looked up at you with those pleading, subby eyes, lips slightly parted, clearly still floating from his orgasm but already excited at the idea of pleasing you next

Jisung's eyes darkened as he looked at you still half-dressed. "Can't have Hyung tasting you properly with these clothes in the way," he murmured against your ear, voice low and teasing.

His hands moved slowly, helping you out of your top first. Strong fingers slid under the fabric, lifting it up and over your head. Cool air kissed your bare skin as he tossed it aside. Next, he reached around to unhook your bra, letting it fall away so your breasts were fully exposed. His palms brushed over them lightly, thumbs grazing your nipples just enough to make you shiver.

"Beautiful," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

Then his hands moved lower. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your bottoms and panties together, guiding them down your hips and thighs. You lifted your hips to help him, and he pulled everything off in one smooth motion, leaving you completely naked.

Jisung hummed in approval, his warm hands roaming over your newly bare skin. "There we go... all pretty and bare for us."

Jisung shifted higher on the bed, leaning back against the headboard with a lazy, satisfied grin. He reached for you, strong hands guiding you gently but firmly until your back rested against his warm, broad chest. You settled between his spread legs, feeling the heat of his skin and the steady beat of his heart against your back.

"Comfortable, baby?" he murmured close to your ear, voice still rough from earlier.Before you could answer, one of his arms slid under your knee and lifted your leg up and outward, opening you wide for Minho. The new position left you completely exposed, your glistening pussy on full display. Cool air brushed over your sensitive skin, making you shiver.

Minho's eyes darkened with fresh hunger as he crawled between your spread thighs. He looked beautifully wrecked, flushed cheeks, messy hair, and a trail of Jisung's cum still slowly leaking from his hole. But the way he stared at your core was pure need.

"Can I...?" Minho asked softly, voice whiny and eager. His hands rested lightly on your inner thighs, thumbs brushing teasingly close but not quite touching. "Please... I want to taste you so bad."

Jisung chuckled low behind you, his free hand stroking soothing circles on your stomach while the other kept your leg held high and open.

"Go ahead, Hyung," Jisung said, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your neck. "She's been so patient watching us. Make her feel good with that pretty mouth. Show her how grateful you are for letting you cum so hard earlier."

Minho let out a soft, needy sound and leaned in. His warm breath ghosted over your wet folds first, making your hips twitch. Then his tongue, hot, soft, and eager, dragged slowly from your entrance up to your clit in one long, thorough lick.

A quiet moan escaped your lips as Minho started licking you properly, slow and messy at first, then growing more confident. He moaned against your pussy like he was the one being pleasured, the vibrations sending sparks through your body.

Jisung held you securely against his chest, keeping your leg lifted nice and high so Minho had full access. His lips brushed your ear as he whispered, "That's it... just relax and let Hyung eat you out. He's gonna take such good care of you."

Minho's tongue circled your clit, then dipped down to push inside you, lapping up your wetness with soft, desperate whimpers. He looked completely lost between your legs, subby, eager, and so fucking hungry for your taste.

Minho's hot tongue kept working between your folds, licking slow and messy, savoring every drop of your wetness. Soft, needy whimpers vibrated against your pussy as he ate you out like he was starving for you.

The pleasure quickly became too much to stay still.

Your hand shot down, fingers threading through Minho's soft hair. You grabbed a fistful and pushed his head harder against your dripping core, grinding your hips forward desperately against his face.

"Ahh..." you moaned, the sound slipping out breathy and needy.

Minho moaned loudly into your pussy, the sound muffled and filthy. His eyes fluttered shut in bliss as you used his mouth, his tongue pressing flatter and licking faster to match your movements.

"Mmm— fuck..." you gasped, hips rolling again, chasing the delicious friction.

"That's it, baby," Jisung groaned behind you, his voice thick with arousal. One arm still held your leg high and spread wide, keeping you completely open for Minho. His other hand stroked your stomach soothingly while he watched. "Grind on Hyung's face. Use him. He loves it."

Minho whimpered even louder, the vibration shooting straight through your clit. He was getting messier now, tongue flicking rapidly over your swollen nub, then dipping down to push inside you, lapping eagerly at your entrance. His nose bumped against your clit with every grind of your hips, coating his cheeks and chin with your slick.

"Oh god... yes—" you moaned louder, fingers tightening in Minho's hair as you pulled him even closer. You rocked harder against his face, wet, obscene sounds filling the room as you rode his tongue.

"Ahh— Minho..." The pleasure spiked sharply, making your voice break into another moan.Jisung pressed a hot kiss to the side of your neck, whispering roughly, "Fuck, look at you... riding Hyung's face so pretty. He's such a good boy, isn't he? Letting you fuck his tongue like this."

Your moans kept spilling out between shaky breaths, soft at first, then louder and needier as you ground down harder, completely lost in the feeling of Minho's eager mouth working you closer and closer to the edge.

Jisung kept your jaw firmly in his grip, forcing you to look up at him while your body trembled against his chest. Your eyes were glassy and unfocused, mouth hanging open as soft, desperate moans kept spilling out.

“Ji— ” you gasped, voice shaky and broken. “Ji— ‘m cumming—!”

The moment the words left your lips, Minho’s eyes flashed with hunger. He let out a needy, whiny moan against your pussy and immediately changed what he was doing.

His tongue stopped teasing your clit and pushed straight inside you instead. Hot, wet, and eager. He started tongue-fucking you hard, sliding in and out of your dripping hole with fast, desperate strokes. His nose pressed firmly against your swollen clit, rubbing it with every thrust of his tongue.

“Ahh— fuck— Minho!” you cried out, hips jerking wildly against his face.

Minho moaned loudly into you, the sound vibrating deep inside your core as he fucked you with his tongue even faster. He was completely lost between your legs, whimpering and slurping messily, drinking up every drop of your wetness while pushing you over the edge.

Your whole body tensed against Jisung’s chest. Your eyes rolled back again, lashes fluttering wildly against your cheeks as the orgasm hit you hard.

With a loud, broken moan, you came.

Your pussy clenched and gushed around Minho’s tongue, hot slick flooding his mouth and coating his chin and cheeks. You squirted messily onto his face, hips grinding uncontrollably as wave after wave of intense pleasure ripped through you. Minho kept tongue-fucking you through it, greedily lapping up every drop, moaning like he was the one cumming.Jisung watched everything with dark, hungry eyes. A deep, guttural groan tore from his throat, low and rough, almost like he was cumming himself. His chest vibrated against your back as he groaned again, louder this time, the sound thick with raw lust.

“Fuck… look at you,” he groaned, voice strained and breathless, as if the sight of you squirting all over Minho’s face was pushing him close to the edge too. “So fucking pretty when you cum… making such a messy, wet little mess on Hyung’s face.”

His grip on your jaw tightened slightly, thumb brushing over your parted lips while another deep groan rumbled out of him. He sounded completely wrecked just from watching you fall apart.

Minho stayed latched between your thighs, happily drinking every drop you gave him, soft whimpers mixing with your cries and Jisung’s heavy groans.

Your body shook violently in Jisung’s arms, soft broken moans still spilling from your lips as the last waves of your orgasm washed over you.

Jisung’s deep, guttural groans slowly faded as your body finally stopped shaking in his arms. Minho stayed between your thighs for a little longer, gently licking you clean with soft, lazy strokes until every last drop was gone. His face was shiny and messy with your cum, but he looked blissfully happy.

You melted completely against Jisung’s chest, breathing hard, eyelids heavy. Jisung pressed soft kisses along your neck and shoulder, murmuring praises while Minho crawled up the bed and curled against your side.

The three of you stayed tangled together for the rest of the night.

They took care of you so gently, wiping you down with warm towels, bringing you water, and wrapping you in soft blankets between their warm bodies. Soft kisses, quiet whispers, and lazy touches filled the hours. Minho kept nuzzling into your neck with sleepy little whines, while Jisung held you close, stroking your hair until you drifted off.

You fell asleep safely sandwiched between them, warm and satisfied.

——

The next morning, you quietly slipped out of the frat house and headed home, legs still a little shaky from the night before. Your body felt deliciously sore in the best way.

But the moment you stepped inside the house, you froze.

Chris was waiting in the living room, arms crossed over his chest, looking every bit like the overprotective big brother he always acted as. His eyes narrowed the second he saw you.

“Where have you been?” he asked, voice tight.

He let out a slow breath and held up his phone, the screen showing the messages.

“Minho and Jisung have been texting me nonstop since this morning. Both of them asking for your number. Saying they had a ‘great time’ with you last night and want to keep talking to you.” Chris stepped closer, his eyes locked on yours with clear worry mixed with sternness.

“I’ve told you before, stay away from my members. Especially those two. I know exactly how they are, and I don’t want you getting mixed up in that.” His tone stayed firm, protective. “You’re family. You’re like my little sister. I’m not letting them treat you like one of their usual hookups.”

He paused, searching your face carefully.

“So tell me the truth. What the fuck happened between you and them last night?”

Uh-oh, well there goes your having fun from last night.

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, @quokkahansung, @binniebb, @clairementsolo, @nclabels, @genuinelybrittleidol , @parkthothwa8, @daphnnie, @hyunnjynn, @sagetakami, @hanniesbubuwife, @hycnsung, @matzduo

this might be the hottest thing you've ever seen.

You are perched on the edge of the mattress, breath coming in short, jagged hitches as you watch Minho drive into Jisung so meanly.

The room is thick with the scent of sex and salt, the mid July summer air feeling heavy and humid against your skin.

Minho has Jisung pinned face down on the mattress, his large hands gripping Jisung’s hips to anchor him. The bedframe giving a metallic creeaaaak whenever Minho drives back into jisung with a hard thrust that echoes the wet, slapping sound of their bodies colliding.

and Jisung is a complete mess right now.

His fingers are clawing into the sheets, twisting the fabric between his fingers as he tries to find some kind - any - of leverage. His head is tossed back, mouth hanging open and drooling. leaking desperate, incoherent pleas that make your own cunt throb.

The sight of them connected has you trembling.

You can't stop your hand from sliding down. You are already sopping wet, your panties clinging to your skin like a second, suffocating layer. hand working on instinct, shedding your panties n' slipping your fingers through your pussylips as you watch the way jisung is driven forward with every harsh thrust.

You want in. You need in.

“Please, Min,” you whimper, “Please just- anything”

“Not yet, sweetheart,” he commands, a guttural sound in the back of his throat, as he pushes Jisung deeper into the mattress. “Just watch how much he wants it. Touch yourself to it.”

At that, Jisung lets out a loud, shattered moan, his hips jerking forward. “Hnnng- please, oh god, I can't-” He is babbling now, his words blurring together into a frantic, incoherent mess of pleasure.

Minho doesn’t slow down. anything but that.

Instead, he leans forward, his chest pressing against Jisung’s sweating back as he whispers right into his ear. His voice is a low, taunting coo, “Oh you’re shaking so hard, baby.”

He punctuates his words with a slow, punishingly deep stroke that makes Jisung’s eyes roll back. “but you’re doing so well. You can take it, right? like good boy?”

Jisung can only sob out a fragmented "Yes," his mind zeroing on the praise, focused on getting called a good boy again

You'd pushed two fingers in by now, matching minho's pace as you watch Jisung’s back arch.

You're leaking all over, your hips rolling against the bed, but Minho keeps the focus on Jisung.

He is breaking him down, overstimulating him until Jisung is just a shaking, sobbing heap of nerves. “See? That’s it, baby, just take it all,”

The room is suffocatingly hot, the scent of sweat and sex becoming a thick, dizzying fog. You can see the way the sweat is glistening on Minho’s shoulders and the mess of lube between jisungs thighs.

Every slap of skin against skin and every broken moan making you impossibly wetter, your fingers sliding through so easily in and out in a desperate attempt to find some release, but your fingers aren't quite enough.

“Please, Min, please ” you whimper, your voice cracking, so desperate to be touched, to be manhandled just like Jisung is.

Minho finally shifts his gaze to you, though he doesn't break his rhythm. He keeps driving into Jisung with that same relentless force, his eyes locking onto yours. A small, smug smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he watches you trembling, your fingers still working frantically between your legs.

“Look at you,” he rasps, his voice thick and commanding. “You look absolutely gorgeous like this, sweetheart. So desperate n’ soaked”

Without slowing the pace, he reaches forward, his hand sliding from Jisung’s hip to the back of his neck, gripping firmly before forcing his head to turn and tilt upward.

He maneuvers him until Jisung is looking right at you, his eyes glazed and eyes blown out, his face flushed a deep, bruised red. “Look at her, Jisung,” Minho purrs, “Tell me, isn’t she so pretty?”

Jisung lets out a broken, high pitched whine, his gaze lingering over your shaking form.

“So pretty,” Jisung whimpers, “God, she’s looks so p-pretty,” He tries to reach out for you, his fingers twitching against the sheets, his eyes dilating even further as he takes in the sight of you trembling on the edge of the bed.

and as if minho finally decides to have mercy on you, he stops.

The sudden silence of the room is deafening, the slapping sound cutting off abruptly as pulls out of jisung slowly with a pop. Jisung lets out a pathetic, high pitched whine, his hips twitching backwards, trying to chase the feeling of Minho inside him.

Before either of you can even question why he stopped, his palms wrap themselves around your waist, shifting your weight until your legs are splayed wide and your dripping cunt is positioned right in front of Jisung’s face.

You feel the sudden heat of his breath fanning against your bare, twitchy cunt, then-- “Now,” Minho says, “go ahead, ji, take care of her.” before sliding back into jisung once again.

that's all he needs to hear before he starts eating you out like a madman

his tongue is there, lapping and hitting your clit with a precision that makes your head spin, moaning at the slick that engulfs his mouth and onto his tastebuds.

his hands run to splay against your thighs and grip them open to pull you closer, closer and closer until you're flush against his face. His mouth parted, tongue licking from bottom to the very top in one messy stroke that makes your back bow.

“Hnnnng, oh- Jisungggg,” you moan, your fingers finding ground into the mattress as you feel Minho’s heavy thrusts pushing Jisung forward.

everything is so overwhelming.

the feeling the wet slap of Minho and Jisung’s bodies colliding while Jisung’s tongue works you over, dragging you down by your plush thighs whenever you even try to inch upwards, it's all too much

"So sweet," he gasps, "God, you taste so good." He lets out a whine, his tongue a blurr, flicking rapidly over you, pushing you toward a sweet release that feels just out of reach.

above both of you, minho is all praise, his voice a sweet “That’s it, baby, eat her out.” and “Good boy, Jisung. Such a good boy for me.”, that contradict the harsh move of his hips.

You can hear Jisung making these muffled, needy sounds against your skin, his breathing heavy and wet as he focuses entirely on your pleasure.

Every time Minho drives his hips forward, he pushes Jisung’s face deeper into your folds, making the suction even tighter.

“Oh god, oh fuck,” you sob, your head tossing back “Ji , please don't stop.”

Jisung lets out a muffled moan against your skin, his tongue flicking faster, more desperate. He’s shaking, his whole body vibrating because he’s being fucked and he’s tasting you all at the same time.

You look down only too see him already looking at you, his cheeks flushed a deep, dark red. He’s making these little hnnnng sounds in his throat, his hands’ grip on your thighs still firm and unmoving.

Minho’s voice is a low, commanding rumble right above your head. “Look at her, Jisung. See how much she’s leaking for you? keep going. Eat every bit of her.”

Minho’s got his fingers threaded through Jisung’s hair, pulling his head tighter against you. You can hear the wet, sloppy sounds of his tongue sliding over your clit.

“Min, please*” Jisung babbles, his voice broken and wet. “Haaah, it feels so good, m'gonna cum soon, she tastes so sweet—”

“I know, baby, I know” Minho praises, his voice dripping with affection even as he drives into Jisung with a brutal, heavy force. “Just take it. Take it all for her.”

The friction is too much. Your vision is blurring at the edges, and your thighs are shaking so hard you can barely stay still.

“I’m— I’m gonna,” you gasp, your voice is wrecked. You can feel the pressure building, a tight coil in your gut that is seconds away from snapping. “Can I-- can I cum?”

Minho doesn't answer right away. He lets out a sharp, guttural sound, his pace becoming erratic. He leans over Jisung, his chest heaving, his eyes focused on the sight of the two of you.

“Do we let her, Ji?” Minho huffs. “Should we let her come?”

jisung breaks off for just a second "Yes, please," Jisung begs, "Please let her. I wan' it all over my tongue."

Minho lets out an amused hum, "You heard him, sweetheart."

The coil in your gut finally snaps, your back arching violently as the first wave of your orgasm crashes over you. You collapse against Jisung’s face, your walls pulsing and squeezing as you soak his tongue in a heavy, hot flood.

Jisung lets out a strangled, muffled cry against your skin. The feeling of you coming all over him pushed him over the edge. He freezes for a split second, his eyes blowing wide, and then his entire body jolts. He cums, soaking into the mattress beneath him.

Minho isnt far behind either, he drives himself deeper one last time, his body locking up as he spills himself deep inside Jisung.

“Oh- oh fuck,” Jisung babbles, his eyes rolling back into his head as the aftershocks ripple through him. He doesn't even pull away from you, his lips still wet and swollen.

He looks up at you, his gaze hazy and desperate. “I want - hnnng - I want to fuck her. Min, please, I need to fuck her so bad.”

you've barely even caught your breath.

Minho just smirks, his hand sliding from Jisung’s hair to the small of his back. “Then do it, baby. Get her ready.”

the approval is all he needs to hear before he surges.

Still shaking from his own release, he hooks an arm around your waist and heaves you onto your hands and knees with a strength that's so surprising given he just got wrecked.

His skin is slick, sliding against yours with a wet, tacky sound as he moves you into place. He’s trembling, his muscles twitching under the skin, but his grip on your hips is strong, bruising.

He settles back onto his wobbly knees, his breath hitching in a series of jagged gasps. You can feel him - thick, pulsing, and dripping - pressing against your entrance.

He guides himself in so agonizingly slow, the tip of his cock stretching your opening wide.

“fuck” Jisung moans, his voice a wrecked, airy mess. “You’re so wet, baby, you’re fucking soaking... I can’t - haaah - I can’t believe how good this feels.”

and the only thing he can do through his hazed senses is grab both sides of your waist and using it as leverage to pull and pull you down his dick till you're fully stretched to accommodate him.

Your forehead hitting the mattress as you feel him finally sink deep, filling you to the brim. “Jisung, oh god--,”

The moment he’s fully bottomed out, he starts rutting into you so desperately, his hips snapping forward in a wet smacks that echo through the room.

You are clawing at the sheets, your fingers twisting the fabric into ruined knots as you sob into the pillow, your voice a broken, incoherent mess of babbles n' moans

“You feel so fucking tight,” Jisung whines, hand caressing your back before pressing you down into a meaner arch “shitt, you’re squeezing me so h-hard, baby”

Minho watches before he reaches forward, his large hands sliding down your torso to haul your upper body off the mattress.

You let out a startled sound as you’re pulled upward, but you don't lose the connection. Jisung just adjusts his grip on your hips, digging his fingers in for leverage as he continues to move into you from behind, his cock sliding even deeper at this angle, kissing at your cervix with every heavy, plunging thrust.

Minho’s fingers tangling in your hair to yank your face toward his.

He crashes his lips against yours in a kiss that is desperate and messy, all tongue n’ teeth, and you meet his intensity with a needy whine, your tongue dancing with his as you lose all sense of where you end and he begins.

You're lightheaded, the world narrowing down to the feeling of both of them sandwiching you.

Just as you think you can't handle the sensory overload, Minho lets go.

The sudden loss of support sends you pitching forward, collapsing right into the mattress with a soft thud. You land sprawled out, breathless and flushed.

face hovering directly in front of him.

Your gaze falls immediately on his cock, still thick and pulsing, a prominent vein running the length. he looks so pretty, glistening with a mixture of precum and leftover lube.

Your hand reaches out, purely on instinct, fingers curling around him and giving him a few wet tugs that sent his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

You lean in closer, hot breath fanning against his skin, and begin to place small, flickering kitten licks along the underside of his shaft.

“o-oh, what a good girl,” he stutters for the first time tonight. “ takin’ care of me without even being asked.”

You shift your weight, eager to please, sliding forward until you can wrap your lips around the leaky tip of his cock.

You keep your gaze locked on his, looking up through your lashes, watching his expression crumble as you swirl your tongue down along the sensitive ridge.

and God does that make him throw his head back with a whimper

Then, you open wide and take him deeper. easing down inch upon swollen inch so slowly down your throat.

Minho doesn't let you set the pace for long.

His large hands suddenly snap forward, fingers locking firmly onto either side of your head.

He drives his vicious hips forward with a sudden, heavy force that sends him deeep into your throat. You make a muffled, surprised sound, your eyes widening and your throat contracting as you feel him hit the back of your throate.

He doesn't start slow.

He doesn’t even give you a second to adjust before he's fucking your throat with a mindless hunger, paying no mind to your wet gurgles as you struggle around him, his thick length sliding in and out of your mouth with a wet, sloppy sound that fills the room.

“Look at her,” Minho groans, his fingers tightening in your hair. “Such a greedy little thing. Taking every inch of me.”

He lets out a sharp hiss when you involuntarily contract around him, your eyes watering from the depth. He doesn’t stop the relentless pace, his hips snapping forward with a heavy, wet sound.

“perfect lil' mouth,” he rasps. “So perfect for me. Just a little toy, hmm?”

his words make you reel

Jisung lets out a breathless, jagged laugh from behind you, still rutting into you, still plunging into you like an animal

“fuckfuckfuck,” Jisung whimpers, gazing down lovingly at your overspilling cunt. “She loves it, Min. She’s clamping down on me so hard- fuck.”

Minho chuckles, griping your hair tighter, pulling your head back just enough to look at your flushed, desperate face.

“Is that true, sweetheart?” he purrs. “Do you like being my little toy? Do you love it when I tell you how good you are?”

You can’t even answer. You just let out a muffled hum, your eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss.

You are absolutely trapped between them, a living fuck toy. You can feel the thrusts of Jisung’s cock drilling straight into your g-spot, all while Minho’s length is filling your mouth, pushing you forward and backward on the mattress so ruthlessly.

Your hands scramble for balance, fingers digging into the hard muscle of Minho’s thighs as you gag around him, the sound of your own choked whines muffled by his cock.

Jisung lets out a shattered, needy sound, his hips snapping forward, “oh god, she’s so tight,” he babbles so dumbly, he's drunk on your pussy “fucking clamping around me--, so wet, can feel it dripping down my thighs”

his mouth is running a hundred miles an hour as his pleasure peaks, hand snakes down, his fingers slick with a mix of lube and your own soaking wetness.

He finds your clit, rubbing circles that makes your whole body shudder. you moan - or try to moan - around Minho’s cock, your eyes fluttering shut.

Minho suddenly pulls out of your mouth with a wet pop. You snap your head back, gasping for air, your chest heaving as you take in a massive, shaking breath after being deprived of oxygen for so long.

You are completely dazed, your vision swimming and your lower face a glistening, smeared mess of saliva and precum.

Minho shifts back, sitting up slightly, and starts jerking himself off, hovering just inches above your face, the head dripping a heavy bead of precum that lands with a wet plink right on your cheek.

Your mind is a complete white blank.

You can feel Jisung still buried deep inside you, his hips twitching and shuddering, he's close.

Your own walls are pulsing, clamped tight around Jisung’s length, and you can feel the pressure building in your gut, a violent need to release that is almost painful.

“P-please...”

Minho’s hand moves faster on himself, the sound of his grip sliding over his skin a wet, tacky noise. “Please what, sweetheart? Use your words. Tell me exactly what you want.”

you can barely remember how to form a sentence.

You let out a frustrated moan, your hips jerking instinctively against Jisung. “I-I... hnngh... please let me...”

“C’mon, baby. You’re almost there, aren’t you? Tell me,”

“Please let me cum-”

“That’s my good girl. go ahead n' cum baby”

Drowning in the wave of bliss, you're cumming- hard, trying to fuck yourself back on jisung despite the limpness in your limbs, dragging your high back on forth through his length.

That does it for jisung

“fuck - fuck, I’m-I’m cumming!” he already was cuming, his whole body stilling as he shoots a heavy, hot load deep inside your womb, filling your pretty insides to the brim.

You’re still shaking, your chest heaving as you gasp for air, and the sight of you - both of you - brings minho right at the edge.

He leans over you, his dark eyes searching yours, his free hand caressing the hair clinging to your forehead before holding your head up by your chin. “Stick your tongue out for me, sweetheart.”

You obey instantly, your mouth hanging open, tongue sliding out, your face still a smeared mess of saliva and precum.

“Thaaat’s it,” Minho groans, his hips snapping forward one last time, and you feel the first hot, thick rope of his cum hit your lip, and then another, and another, and another, splashing across your cheek and landing right on your tongue.

he's coated your face in a glistening, salty mess his own cum, his breath coming in long, shuddering exhales.

there is a thick silence that follows, only broken by the sound of the three of you catching your breaths.

You stay frozen, your eyes fluttering, feeling the hot, tacky sensation of his cum cooling on your skin and tongue. Your body is still humming, your nerves fried from the intensity of being sandwiched between them, used and praised until you couldn't think.