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juwang’s crying.

it’s simple as that, really, and he knows he’s pathetic for it.

he’s flushed red, cheeks the brightest shade while the tips of of his ears are a light pink. his eyes are bloodshot, glassy, and so incredibly sad.

he’s not sad though—no, far from it. he’s having the time of his life, honestly. he’s never felt better. somewhat.

because of you. it’s all because of you. the way you look at him, the way you talk to him—the way you’re lapping and swirling your tongue around the thick head of his dick even though he’s begged for you to stop, for no more, for mercy just once between orgasms.

but your cum-stained lips just curl into a cruel smile, shaking your head, silky hair in a lazy ponytail as you lean back down.

“you said you were horny,” you chide, hand pumping his spit-slicked, cum-covered cock languidly. “so take it.”

and those sweet little eyes, the puppy-dog, boba-like look as he sniffles and lets out a choked sob, pouting as his chin trembles and he tries not to cry even more—it’s almost enough to make you take pity upon him. to give him some reprieve from the harsh treatment you’re giving him. almost.

but you don’t. because you know, deep down, that he loves it. and you do too.

so your head dips back down, taking his shaft deep into your throat as you groan at the taste of him, while he throws his head back against the pillows, letting out a sound between a moan and a wail.

you take him deep, of course you do. deep, deep, deep, until the head of his aching dick is hitting the back of your throat, and all he can hear is the filthy noise of your head bobbing up and down, up and down. you’re making it filthy on purpose, he knows—the slurping, the sucking, the way your hand makes squelching noises as it pumps the length of him that you can’t fit in your mouth. it’s all on purpose, all to remind him of the position he’s in.

and then he feels that familiar sensation: his stomach drops, twists, hips bucking up into your mouth as you moan against his flesh because you know what comes next and so does he.

he cums with a gasp and a sob, tears spilling down his cheeks much like his release spills down your hungry throat.

“hurts, hurts!” he whines, the word all he can muster up with the way his brain has practically turned to mush. “no more, please, no more!”

“but you can take it, baby,” you mutter as you slide off his softening cock with a lewd pop, thumb toying with the slit of his weeping length, making more pre-cum spill out and coat your already sticky fingers.

he nods, then. for the first time tonight, he thinks it’s better to just agree with you. he knows he won’t get pity either way, so why try anymore?

“o-okay,” he whimpers, breathless, trying to suck in air in sharp gasps as he winces at the feeling of your lips back on him for the nth time tonight. “i can take it. i-i’ll take it. for you.”

“keiju, fuck,” you groan, chest heaving up and down, up and down, your eyes half-lidded as you look up at the boy above you.

keiju’s palms are on either side of your head, caging you in, keeping you in place on the bed. he’s tugged off your skirt already, and now he has that stupid, shit-eating grin on his face, the one that lets on one thing—he’s up to something.

and it hits you as soon as he sits back on his haunches, yanking his shirt up and over his head before diving right back in—except for this time, his hands are in between your thighs, spreading them apart as he presses his nose right to the lace of your panties.

“s-stop!” you squeal in embarrassment, cheeks flushed pink as he moans against the barrier of fabric between him and the sweetest delicacy he could ever enjoy. “keiju, wait, i didn’t think you would—“

but it’s too late. before you can even say one more word, he’s pulling your sticky panties to the side, exposing your slick folds to his eager gaze. and the only thing more eager than the grin on his face is his lips as they wrap around your swollen, puffy clit, lapping and swirling around the little bud, making you whine and gasp.

then he looks up. through thick, sooty lashes, you see that glint in his eyes, the puppy-dog effect he’s trying to elicit in you as he whines between licks to your pretty flesh.

“please?” he whimpers against your pussy, and you know exactly what he wants.

your hands fly down to his hair, tugging hard. hard enough that tears instantly sting in the corners of his eyes, moaning and groaning against your pussy as he licks more eagerly, tongue teasing and prodding your entrance, before sliding back up to your pretty pearl, swirling and swirling and swirling until you’re pulling his hair in an iron grip and bucking your hips up like it’s your only way to deal with the overwhelming pleasure.

he’s pathetic, really. for loving the hurt of it, the way you boss his around with the grip in his thick black hair. he knows he’s a loser for it too. but he doesn’t care, not when it feels so good.

“keiju, yes, just like that,” you breath out, eyes squeezed shut as you suddenly feel the press of his tongue into your tight channel, rubbing and twisting at your sweet, sensitive spots, lapping up all the tangy, uniquely feminine arousal that coats his chin, lips, and tip of his nose.

and fuck, you’re so close, close close close, until you hear something—fabric against fabric, perhaps?

definitely fabric against fabric. you know, then, because when your eyes open only ever so slightly, you see it—the filthy sight, keiju’s eyes squeezed shut as he moans and groans against your cunt while he grinds into the mattress desperately, humping the sheets like he’s a dog in rut.

he’s probably getting off on this more than you are. actually, he’s definitely getting off on this more than you are.

you know, this time around, because suddenly his tongue stills its insistent plunging into your hole and it’s swirling around your clit, and with a loud moan, his hips stutter and stop.

“shit, fuck, fuck fuck, fuck, yes!” he moans, eyes squeezed shuts as he makes a mess of his boxers and sweatpants, sticky cum painting the fabric and seeping through until he’s made a fool of himself.

“sorry, ‘m sorry,” he pants, looking up at you apologetically as his tongue begins to swirl and pump into you once more. but you’re really only more turned on by it, unbeknownst to him.

that’s why after a few broad licks of his tongue against your folds, you’re gasping, squeezing the strands of his hair—with such a tight grip that you might as well rip some out—as you freeze up, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“fuck, fuck, cumming, keiju! ‘m cumming!” you cry out, back arching like a cat’s as your essence floods his mouth, the filthy slurping noises he makes only joining his groans and your whines.

“fuck, fuck, fuck…”

felix knows he’s being loud, he knows, and he swears he’s trying to be quiet, he really is. even as he sits here, on your shared bed in the dead of night, the lewd squelch of his hand pumping his cock up and down, up and down…he really is trying to be quiet. somewhat.

it doesn’t help that he’s a whining, whimpering mess, panting for air, gulping down all the oxygen he can get as he feels his second orgasm creep up on him.

his hand, then, reaches the top of his cock, thumb rubbing circling over his sensitive tip over and over again, until…

“shit, baby, oh my— yeah, yeah, mmmgh, cum—cumming, gonna—!” he whimpers brokenly into the fabric of his t-shirt, which he’s shoved into his mouth as a makeshift gag. then it happens, his eyes roll to the back of his head as thick ropes of his own release spurt out of his thick, angry red tip, coating his exposed stomach and hem of his tee with white ropes. and fuck, he loves it, loves it so much.

because he’s thinking of you. he’s thinking of how it could be your hands all over him instead of his own, your fingers gagging him instead of his own, your fucking hand stroking his cock instead of his own.

but it’s not yours. because you’re off, on a girls trip you won’t be back from until tomorrow.

or at least he thought so.

because as he sits there, toying with his softening cock, pumping it languidly, cooling down for round three—he hears something. the clicking of a door opening, maybe? he’s not sure, but it makes his stomach drop.

“h-hello?” he calls out, voice still hoarse from moaning your name over and over. but there’s no response, and he puts it off as a figment of his own imagination.

so, felix’s hand returns to his cock, still coated in cum, pumping it a bit faster before spitting on his palm, making his shaft nice and slick just how you would if you were here. and he loses himself in that, pretty eyelashes fluttering against his face as his eyes squeeze shut, images of all the things he’d beg you to do to him if only it was your warm hands getting him off right now.

“f-felix?!” you exclaim.

what? no, that’s wrong. he…he didn’t imagine that. you were supposed to say something sweet, like, ‘baby,—

“what the hell are you doing?!”

this time, his eyes fly open.

and there you stand, luggage in one hand, jacket in the other, looking shocked and angry and confused and a little more than disgusted.

so it hadn’t been his mind messing up the nasty scenarios in his mind. it was actually you.

“bab—baby. hi, hi sweetheart, i wasn’t—wasn’t expecting you,” he mutters quickly, fabric of his black tee falling from his lips as he begins tucking himself back into his boxers in shame, cheeks heating up in shame.

“well clearly not,” you quip, tossing your jacket onto the edge of the bed. “i landed a day early to surprise you, but i see that you were…missing me?”

he just flushes a deeper shade of pink, tears of embarrassment pricking at his eyes.

“i-i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to—to make you mad,” he whines, scooting to the edge of the bed where you’re perched now, arms crossed.

he reaches out, but you smack his hands away, and he whines again.

“you’re dirty,” you note, and at first it hurts his heart—until he realizes, that, his hands are in fact, dirty. with his own, filthy, desperate mess.

“i-i didn’t mean to,” he whimpers, pulling the hem of his shirt down to cover the way his cock is still rock hard in his boxers. it’s no use though, not around you.

“pervert,” you grumble, swatting his hand away from his shirt, and pulling up the fabric to reveal the tented cotton of his boxers.

“jesus christ,” you snicker, finger poking at his cock that throbs even more insistently when you do.

“s-stop…” he begs, and it’s so sweet that you almost want to pity him and give him mercy. almost.

“you deserve it,” you say sternly, and he knows you’re right, so he shuts his mouth and feels his cheeks somehow heat up even more, spreading to the tips of his ears.

“just…sit back against the headboard.”

he obeys instantly, of course. not just because he knows what you’re going ti do and he wants it, but also because god he’s terrified of you when you’re like this.

he watches in awe as you strip off your shirt and pants, leaving you in just your skimpy panties and bra. gosh, he’s whipped for you. and when you crawl towards him, like a predator going in for the kill, he lets out a shaky breath before swallowing thickly. he’s not sure if he’s ready.

your hands are on him in an instant—of course they are. you can smell his excitement, his fear, his everything.

“spread,” you say, and the single word makes him spread his thighs instantly. he’s still got it, even after a week apart.

your head dips down as you yank his boxers off, making him gasp when your cold fingers wrap around his heated dick. it makes a shiver run through his body, goosebumps erupting on his skin, and it drives him crazy.

he watches you through half-lidded eyes and you grin, resting your cheek against his thigh as your hand slowly begins pumping up and down, up and down, just like he had been doing to himself. fuck, yes. this is what he needed. and you know it.

“feels good, baby?” you ask, biting your bottom lip as you press a kiss to the tip of his cock, which makes him squeak and squirm.

“y-yes, good,” he manages to whisper, voice cracking on the single word. you nod, biting the skin if his thigh teasingly as you start to jerk his cock faster, pre-cum spilling out of his slit and rolling down his shaft in fat globs, making your fingers sticky and shiny and warm.

“don’t stop, please—please baby, please d-don’t stop!” he begs in the whiniest, most pathetic voice you’ve ever heard, thighs shaking as his abs clench with the effort of holding back his orgasm, eyes rolling to the back of his head and squeezing shut.

“baby’s close?” you ask, giggling as his hips buck up and seek more and more of your touch, your warmth, your affections. “you’re gonna cum for me, right pretty boy?” you ask, spitting right on his tip, making his back arch up wildly like a cat as he squeezes his eyes shut tight.

“fuck, yesyesyes, that—that’s it, ‘m cumming—i’m cumming, i’m cumming!” he cries out, feeling his red, achy cock shoot spurt after spurt of cum onto your hands and lips, which press messy kisses to his shaft through it all.

“calm down. you’re acting like a pathetic bitch,” you grumble as he whines and shakes from the intensity of his climax. you’re just teasing him, he knows you are, but he still lets out a pouty little huff as he pants for air.

minje's panting. it's loud, and if you weren't so incredibly desperate, you'd probably slap him across the face just to remind him you are still very much in his dorms, and someone could still very much walk in.

"stop squirming," he grumbles as his fingers curl inside of you, rubbing against that sweet spongey spot that makes your toes curl and your eyes squeeze shut. you can feel every vein, every painted nail grinding against your gummy walls.

"i-i'm trying. but you're--" you gesture to the mess beneath the sheets, your arousal smeared all over your thighs and his wrist.

he's been teasing you like this, denying you what you really need for what feels like hours now. it drives you crazy--at one point he speeds up, the other he stops and simply watches your hand desperately pump his shaft.

oh, right. there's that--your hand, small in comparison to his big veiny ones, wrapped around his throbbing, leaky dick. you're trying to keep up, you really are, but if it was a competition, he'd be beating you. doing laps around you, really.

"y-you close?" he breathes out, breath hot against the shell of your ear. it grosses you out and turns you on at the same time, and you're twisting your head to the side to sloppily meet his lips in lazy kisses just to stop him from breathing so hard on you.

"yeah, close," you mumble back, flicking your wrist up to squeeze at his sensitive tip. he gasps, whimpers, eyes squeezing shut as he scissors his fingers inside of you in return. its an intoxicating mix of pain of pleasure, and before you know it, you're bucking into his hand, gasping for air as stars explode behind your eyes.

"so close, m-minje, close," you whine, back arching high.

and then he stops, a breathless chuckle escaping his lips as he looks down at you with those big, glassy, innocent eyes. he pretends not to notice the way you're rolling your hips up still, trying to find any sort of relief.

"wha-what? you gotta work for it, baby," he teases between heavy breaths, pressing a messy kiss to your jaw.