sub!anyone

Geto Suguru

''Fuck yeah, th-that's it, baby...'' you moaned, reaching in-between the both of you to play with your clit, helping get to the edge even faster than you already were. Your boyfriend knew how to use his hips to drill into you, slamming against your g-spot with every thrust. And suddenly, you were jealous. Jealous at any girl who he had in bed before.

''I'm g-going to-'' You shrieked, wrapping your arms around him as your orgasm washed over you in waves. Sparks of electricity running down your back as you did, arching off the bed before you plumped back into it.

You let out a content sigh when your boyfriend pulled out before you pulled him into a kiss, telling you how much you loved him. He smiled, telling you he loved you before telling you he had to take care of something. Before you could say anything, ask him what he had to take care of, he was out of the room.

You frowned to yourself. Maybe he was hungry? You shrugged it off and walked over to your closet to get your strap ready. The both of you were far from done for tonight. But when he didn't show up, you took it upon yourself to check on him. He was not in the kitchen, so your theory of him being hungry seemed to be false.

Suddenly, you could hear the shower running. So you knocked on the bathroom door, trying to get his attention. Usually, you'd just barge in. That's how the two of you were. But if he wanted you to know what he was doing, he would have told you from the start.

You knocked once again, calling out his name. "Are you okay?"

He was hesitant. What you didn't know was that he was letting the shower run, the water dripping down his body, hair in a bun because he didn't need the stress of getting it wet right now, staring at a photo of you while pumping his dick in his hand.

''Y-Yeah.'' He muttered, trying to hold back a groan.

You didn't question it. ''Will you come back to bed with me? My strap misses you, you know?'' He could hear the smirk in your voice and his eyes widened. Turning off the water, he stepped out of the shower hurriedly, grabbing his towel to dry himself up.

''I thought we were done.'' Came from the other side of the door.

You were confused. ''Done doing what?''

''Having sex?'' He answered hesitantly, trying to get out of the bathroom as fast as possible. "You came, so I thought-"

It was quiet on your end of the door. Great, he thought to himself. Now he looked like a total idiot who had no idea how the world worked. You'd definitely think he was a weirdo.

But then, you spoke. ''I'll just pretend I didn't hear that. Now come to bed.''

He opened the door and there you stood. No frown, no judgemental gaze, just you looking quite worried. Then you smiled, wrapping your arms around his waist. ''Obviously I'm going to take care of my princess.''

Before he could say anything, you grabbed his hand teasingly, leading him back to the bedroom. Then a thought came to your mind. What uf he was in there because he did not want to continue? Why did that not cross your mind?

As soon as you stepped foot into your room, you turned around, facing him. ''We don't have to do anything if you don't want to.''

''It's not that.'' He muttered, laughing the awkwardness off nervously. ''My ex never cared whether I came or not.'' He mumbled. ''So if I didn't manage to come during sex I... Wouldn't.''

You nodded, thinking about what to say next. Something that'd convey your feelings the best way possible. He had been vulnerable with him, so you wanted to make him feel safe with you.

''Not around here, partner. I'm turning you into a cum-fountain if I have to.'' He giggled as you dragged him to the bed, making him sit down at the edge. ''Baby, you have to tell me about stuff like this.'' You reached out to cup his cheek, thumb grazing his soft skin as he leaned into the touch. ''You don't have to walk on eggshells around me.'' You muttered.

''I know. I'm sorry.''

''Don't apologise.'' You pushed him back, making sure his back was resting against the bed, before you pushed his legs up to his chest. ''Let me apologise to you.''

Gojo Satoru

''Right there!'' He meweld, throwing his head back against the pillow propping him up. He was so needy, so desperate, and so close to coming all over himself. Creaming on your strap and losing his mind. You had his legs pinned to his chest, making sure you could reach the deepest spot inside him. Eyes rolling back in his head, he tried not to lose himself completely. He really wanted to cuddle with you after this and help you clean up like the good boy he was. So he couldn't pass out yet.

And then, you raised your hand. His eyes widened and with one swift movement he was out of your grip and off the bed. He plumped down on the floor, legs shaking whether out of fear or pleasure, you had no idea. You hadn't even processed what just happened.

His heart was beating fast, threatening to beat out of his chest. His breath hitched and he looked as terrified as he could possibly be. Now you were worried.

''Are you okay? What was that?''

He took a few deep breaths and you let him. Staying in place in order not to frighten him even more. ''I panicked, I'm sorry.'' He whispered as his breathing slowed and he calmed down. ''Are you mad?''

''Is there something I should be mad about?''

''I don't want you to be mad.''

''Mad at what?'' You frowned.

He sighed, burying his face into the palm of his hands. ''I dodged your slap.'' He muttered, peeking throw his fingers.

''I wasn't trying to slap you, I was trying to cup your cheek ...''

His hands fell into his lap, and his eyes widened. Now, you moved from the bed and got onto the floor with him. Wrapping his arms around you, he pulled you into his lap, chin resting on your shoulder. ''I'm sorry.''

''Did your ex hit you?'' You asked hesitantly, ''and don't apologise.'' You whispered, fingers tangled in his soft hair.

''Y-Yeah.'' He muttered, pulling you even closer.

''You don't have to worry about such things with me. I'd never hit you.'' You whispered, petting his head a little. Calming him down. Calming his nerves. ''Unless you want me to.'' You started pressing soft kisses to his neck, which made him giggle.

''Don't go too hard please.''

Choso Kamo

You smiled at him, sitting in his lap with his hands resting at his sides, stiffly. He was nervous, you could tell. But that was nothing abnormal for your boyfriend. When he asked you if he could touch you, looking up at you with those pretty eyes, you wanted to devour him right there. Eat him up and have him live in your belly so that he would always be close to you.

''Of course, Cho.'' His face turned beet red, and he grabbed your hips nervously, hands shaking as his fingers dug into your hips while you were grinding them against his crutch. And he was so hard. So hard you felt like he'd be bursting out of his pants at any given moment.

You kissed him softly, and he loved your kisses. He loved when you kissed his forehead. He loved when you kissed his cheeks. He loved when you pressed soft kisses to his nose. He loved when you pressed loving kisses to his lips.

And then you went further, trailing kisses down his chin, reaching his neck, leaving marks in your wake. He gasped, breath hitching, dick twitching in his pants as you peppered kisses to the side of his neck. ''My pretty Cho...'' you whispered, licking a strip from his neck to his earlobe, making him whimper.

Then, you got off his lap, getting on your knees right in between his legs, pressing kisses to his thighs. And as sensitive as he was, his pants did nothing to lower the sensation he was feeling. Without taking your eyes off him, you reached for his crotch, unzipping his pants, finding a wet spot in his boxers.

He was so freaking cute. Adorable.

You brushed over the wet spot with one of your fingers, making him squeeze his eyes shut, thighs trembling. When you were just about to pull down his boxers, he pushed your hands away softly, standing up abruptly. With that, he was gone.

''Where are you going?'' You asked, trying to figure out what was going on.

''B-Bathroom!'' With that, he closed the bathroom door, making sure to lock it behind him. Splashing some cold water in his face, he tried to take deep breaths. But nothing seemed to help. He couldn't calm down. That's until he heard your voice.

''Baby?'' You spoke gently. ''Are you okay? Wanna tell me why you're in there?''

As his breathing calmed down, he slumped onto the floor, wrapping his arms around himself. ''You'll be mad at me...''

You frowned. ''Why would I be mad at you going to the bathroom?''

He didn't answer. You let him take his time to tell you what was going on.

''I'm scared.''

You gasped. ''Baby, I'm so sorry. Was I going too fast? We don't have to do anything you're not ready for.'' Taking a deep breath, you continued. ''I want you to feel comfortable with me, Cho.''

He sighed, burying his face in his hands. He knew you wanted him to feel safe with you. And he did. Additionally, he mentioned that he wants to take things further with you. But he was scared.

''I just froze. It was so fast.''

''That's not a problem, baby. We can just cuddle.''

Then he went quiet again. You could hear him fiddling with the doorknob. Opening the door, he stepped right into your arms, wrapping his arms around your waist. All while burying his face into your neck. ''Really?''

You frowned, pulling back, making sure he was looking at you. Raising your hands, you cupped his face softly. ''Of course.'' Before pressing soft kisses to the corner of his mouth.

''Oh,'' he mumbled, leaning into your touch. ''My ex used to be rough... And she wouldn't listen to me.''

''Sounds like you've got a horrible taste in women.'' You snickered, pushing a strand of hair behind his ear. ''Sorry, I'm trying to make you laugh.''

''My taste in women isn't that bad.'' He giggled, pressing a soft kiss to your hand. ''I'm with you.''

Nanami Kento

''Do you like that?'' You leaned down, smiling into his face. ''Who would have thought my Kenny was secretly a slut?'' Suddenly, his eyes shot open, and he sprang up, saying your safe word. You got off him immediately, eyes wide as you rubbed his back. ''A-Are you okay?''

He took a few deep breaths, face buried into his hands, telling you he just needed a moment. So you nodded, rubbing his back soothingly. When he couldn't seem to calm down, he got off the bed and started putting on some clothes.

''Would you be fine with me stepping out for a bit?" He grabbed his jacket and his keys, rubbing his forehead. ''I need a breather.''

You stood at the doorway of your room, nodding in understanding. Of course, it'd be okay for him to step out. He could take as much time as he needed for himself. "Take your time, baby.'' You muttered, cupping his cheek with one hand.

And when he thanked you, leaning into your touch subconsciously, you told him that there was no need to thank you for that. If he needed some time to himself, who were you to stop him? Your job was to support him, not break him down.

Not long after he had stepped out, he called you. You smiled when you picked up the phone. You loved that even when he needed some space, when he wanted to clear his mind, he wanted you near. When you picked up, it was silent on the other end. That's until you heard him take a deep breath.

''Do you want to talk about it?''

He hesitated. ''Um, yes.'' Another deep breath. ''So...''

''So?'' You whispered softly, not wanting to push him.

''You know how I told you, you could wrap your hands around my neck?'' You nodded to yourself, telling him you remembered. Just minutes before he had stepped out, you were riding him. Whispering sweet words of affirmation into his ears, pressing teasing kisses down his neck, telling him how well behaved he was for keeping his hands on the bed.

One of your hands stayed resting on his chest, while the other cupped his cheek. Suddenly, he did grab your hand, not to defy you, but to wrap your hand around his neck.

''I h-had flashbacks.''

''Of what?''

He took another deep breath. You could tell that talking about this wasn't easy for him. Understandably, he had never told anyone about this before. Nanami was the type of guy to keep everything to himself since he wanted to be your safe place, which is why you cherished these types of moments.

''My ex,'' he started. ''She was very rough.'' Chuckling to himself, he continued. ''She choked me until I passed out a few times.''

You gasped in utter disbelief. How could anyone do something like that to a person they supposedly loved? Without consent? ''Pardon my French,'' you tried not to say anything vulgar. ''But what the fuck was her problem?'' He stayed silent. ''You know I'd never do that to you, right? I'm so-''

He cut you off before you could even think about finishing the sentence. ''Don't apologise, sweetheart. I know you wouldn't.'' A sigh could be heard on his end. ''I just panicked.''

''And that's totally fine, baby.'' After telling you he was on his way back and just around the corner you suggested some cuddles. You wanted to comfort him, make him feel good. And how could he say no to some snuggles with his perfect partner?

Higuruma Hiromi

''Is this okay?'' You whispered, pressing soft kisses to his neck. Your boyfriend was hovering over you with your arms draped around his neck.

''Y-Yeah...'' he breathed out, squeezing his eyes shut. He was so cute trying not to let a few kisses get to him. When one of your hands wandered down his body, he froze, tensed up visibly, and you noticed, stopping immediately.

''Are you okay, Hiro?'' You cupped his face, making sure he knew you could talk to him.

''I'm f-fine-''

''Don't lie to me.'' You pushed him off you gently, making him sit down next to you. You rested the back of your hand against his forehead, checking his temperature, but that seemed to be fine.

''What's wrong, baby?''

He didn't answer you. He didn't want to answer you. He was embarrassed and mad at himself.

''We don't have to do anything if you're not ready.''

He wanted to. He really wanted to. He had been looking forward to this day for ages after taking it unimaginably slow the past few months. And you knew he wanted to do it. But you didn't think he was ready to go further yet, and that was completely fine.

''I'm sorry.'' He sighed, burying his face in his hands.

''No need to apologise, baby.'' You chuckled, resting one of your hands on his back, rubbing it gently. ''After all, I'm not with you because I'm trying to fuck you.'' He dropped his hands, turning to the side to face you with a frown on his face for a moment.

You rolled your eyes. ''I'm not with you because I'm just trying to fuck you, Hiro.''

He nodded, staring at his hands, fiddling with them. ''Are you sure?''

You nodded, a smile grazing your features as you wrapped your arms around him. Then you asked him what was wrong. After a few seconds of hesitation, he opened up to you.

When he told you he had seen his ex for a moment, you gasped, springing up from the couch. ''In my house?!'' You gasped, ready to get a knife, a baseball bat, anything to fight off his crazy ex.

''I meant it metaphorically.'' He chuckled, grabbing your hands softly and making you sit down next to him again. All while still holding on to your hands, he continued when you told him to. ''She would always be so rough, you know? I don't know...''

''You don't have to know.'' You cut off his train of thought. ''All you have to know is that you didn't like it and she was stupid.''

He nodded, taking a deep breath. You freed one of your hands, cupping his cheek, running a thumb alongside his sink as he leaned into the touch. You reminded him that you would never treat him like that.

And he told you he knew. When he tried apologising again, looking at you with those sad eyes of his, you shot him down, telling him there was no need to apologise.

''Do you want to go for a walk? I bet that would calm you down.''

He agreed, and both of you stood up, grabbing your jackets and your keys. When he mentioned getting you some ice cream, you pulled him into a kiss.

''This is why you're the best.''

Toji Fushiguro

''I'm n-not made out of glass, Ma...'' He whimpered, clinging to your waist as you pressed soft kisses to his neck. You had spent a good hour kissing him and marking him up now. He was so sensitive and had hickeys all over him. His dick was so hard you were sure it'd burst out of his boxers any minute now.

''Shut up,'' you muttered into his skin, biting softly and drawing a whine from him. ''Let me spoil my baby.'' He was so wet. He wanted you to make him come already.

Then you spread his legs, pressing kisses down his chest for the second time tonight, retracting your marks. When you took one of his nipples into your mouth while pinching the other, he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut. You could tell he was loving the attention he was getting despite protesting.

You rested your free hand on one of his thighs, squeezing it softly before trailing up to his crotch. Suddenly, his eyes shot open, and he pushed you off himself. Not hard enough to hurt you, but hard enough to get you off him.

Getting off the bed, he put on his clothes in a frenzy, all while taking deep breath after deep breath. And just like that, he stormed out the door. It happened so fast that you couldn't even process what just happened. Did he just run out the door?

You sat there for a few moments, trying to figure out what was wrong. Your train of thought was interrupted by your boyfriend calling you.

''I'll be back in a bit.'' He said.

''Where did you run off to?'' You stood up, pacing through your apartment. Had you done something? ''Are you okay?''

He told you he was okay. No explanation, nothing. Just that he was okay. Well, at least he was okay.

''Why did you run out of the door like that? You chuckled, leaning against a wall now.

''Sorry, I had to go.'' You could hear him nervously laughing on the other end of the phone.

When you asked him where he would be going at this time of the day, he only told you he had stuff to do.

''And you remembered that while we were making out?''

Silence. Then, ''Precisely.''

You sighed. Did he think you'd buy his story? Couldn't he have come up with something more believable? You asked him what was wrong one more time, but he didn't answer. You thought about everything it could have been, what you had done before he rushed out of the door like that.

''Was it because my hand slipped up your thigh?'' You questioned, ''did you not like that?''

He sighed. "It's not that I didn't like it.'' You let him take his time. After all, this seemed to be a sensitive topic to him. Never would you have thought Toji could be so vulnerable. When you told him he could tell you anything, he sighed, telling you he knew that. Although you weren't with him, you knew he was rubbing his forehead. Trying to relieve the stress surging through his veins. ''It's embarrassing.''

You embarrassed yourself in front of him all the time. You cried in front of him, you ugly laughed in front of him, you choked on food in front of him, and you sent him embarrassing pictures of yourself. But that's what love was all about. So he never had to feel embarrassed with you. That's what you told him. One last sigh, and he let go.

''My ex used to squeeze my crotch when she was mad at me.'' You gasped in disbelief. How could anyone do that to the person they loved? The person they supposedly cherished? That must have hurt, you spoke out loud, voice low as you tried processing what he had just told you. ''It hurt like a bitch. Old memories resurfaced, you know?''

''I understand, baby.'' You muttered. ''I'm sorry.''

''You didn't know.''

''Well, now I do.'' You whispered. ''And now I want to give you a big hug. Can I see you?''

And that's when he sent you his location.

Shiu Kong

''You know, you look so cute beneath me.'' You whispered, giggling as you pressed soft kisses to his neck. But suddenly, he froze. And then something weird happened. With one swift movement, he pushed you off himself and got off the bed.

Your first instinct was to frown. What was that? Why did he push you off by himself? Did he not like what you were doing to him? Was he secretly ticklish and kicked you off before he could embarrass himself by laughing? Before you could ask him, he was pulling on his pants hastily, throwing his shirt on. It wasn't even on correctly when he stormed out of the room, and you followed after him.

Running down the stairs to the front door, still confused about what had happened. You were fine a few minutes ago. You knew he hadn't had sex in a while. Maybe that was the reason for his unusual behaviour.

You called out his name, but you wouldn't stop running. He wouldn't stop running from you. That's until you caught up to him and grabbed his arm softly. That made him stop in his tracks.

''Baby...'' you whispered, and he turned around slowly. ''What's the matter?''

He didn't dare look you in the eyes. He didn't want to. He couldn't. When you stepped closer slowly, wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing your ear against his chest, you could hear his heart beating, threatening to beat out of his chest.

''Breathe, baby.'' You muttered. And that's when he started calming down, taking soft, laboured breaths until he was back to normal.

''I'm sorry.'' There was no need to apologise, and you told him that. All you cared about was why this happened and what you could do to prevent this in the future.

When he told you that for a moment there, he saw his ex, you panicked, asking yourself what you had done wrong. But then he told you it had nothing to do with you. He didn't know why she showed up in his mind like that.

''Aww, baby,'' you whined, squeezing him even tighter, telling him you two didn't have to do anything he was not ready for. And obviously, he was not ready to have sex with you. So you wouldn't until he felt comfortable enough to do it with you.

''But I do want to do it with you.''

''I know," you whispered, cupping his cheeks softly. ''We will once you're ready.'' And then you pressed a soft kiss, leading him back up to your bedroom. ''Up for cuddles?''

He nodded.

Sukuna Ryomen

Sukuna slamming you against a wall while making out with you wasn't something you could have seen in the future. And it hurt like hell. When you told him that you could have been seriously injured, he asked you one simple question. ''Did you die though?'' You were too stunned to speak.

Upon telling him you could have been seriously injured again, he asked the same question. Noticing you wouldn't be able to get anywhere with him, you just said fuck it and moved on with the conversation.

''What's wrong?''

And what did the king of curses do? Feign ignorance. Acted as if nothing happened. Acted like it was totally normal for him to slam you into a wall and move on with his day. There was nothing wrong with him.

"There's obviously something going on with you.'' Staring at him, you waited for an answer. When nothing came from his end, you asked him to tell you what was wrong again.

''I'm fine.''

After a game of back and forth, him acting oblivious, you asking him questions and him avoiding them, you made him talk. Reluctantly so. Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, looking away from you in annoyance, he finally spoke up. Telling you you reminded him of his ex for a second.

When you asked him how, he told you it was because of the way you were grabbing at him when you two made out just moments prior. She used to do the same to him, but she was just much rougher with him than you were being. It brought back memories.

You apologised for making him feel that way, pressing soft soothing kisses to your face. He continued standing there, acting like all of this was not getting to him in any way, shape or form. ''I didn't mean to scare you.''

He rolled his eyes, telling you he wasn't. Obviously.

And you took the liberty to tease him, baby him as much as you possibly could. And he acted as if he hated it. But deep down, he knew he loved it and wanted to cuddle you

Ino Takuma

"I'm so embarrassed..." he muttered, pacing through the room, hands pressed to either side of his head. He kept on telling you he was sorry, walking in circles around your room, the look of horror not leaving his face. "That has never happened before."

You sat on the bed and watched him scramble off you while you were in the act, watched him run out of the room while you sat there in confusion, watched him walk back in to explain what was going on. But he couldn't. He was rambling, and you had no idea what he was talking about. You couldn't follow him.

"Breathe, baby."

One more, "I'm sorry..." and you stood up, cupping his face in your hands gently. Thumbs running alongside his cheeks, trying to soothe him. "There is no need to apologise." You whispered, staring right into his tear-stained eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know." He sighed, wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his head in the crook of your neck. "O felt this feeling of uneasiness." His body tensed suddenly, clinging to you even harder. "And suddenly I saw my ex in front of me, and I had to get out."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing soft kisses to the side of his face, telling him that it was totally fine. Everyone needed a minute here and there, especially in such a situation. If he wasn't feeling comfortable, he was free to ask for some space. When you asked him if he wanted you to make him a cup of tea, he frowned at you.

He was so confused, asking you why you were so nice to him. After all, he had ruined the vibe of the whole night. Why were you so nice to him? And your answer was simple. He was your boyfriend; you had to be nice to him. It was basic human decency to check up on someone who wasn't doing well.

His ex-girlfriend got him very good. Digging her claws into him and leaving scars all over his heart, mind, and soul. You were sorry he encountered such a vile creature. And as soon as you said that, he let out a chuckle. But then you grabbed his hand softly, trying to reassure him. "I'm not her; I'd never force myself on you."

And he knew that very well. He pulled you into a tight embrace, a tight hug, squeezing the life out of you, pressing soft kisses to the side of your face, and most importantly, telling you how much he truly loved you.

“come on, just come with me after this. I don’t wanna go alone.” Your friend, yoon, nudges you, not so discreetly chatting to you once you’re nearing the end of your two hour lecture.

Your eyes flicker from the board, which you’re still trying to concentrate on, but also, your attention is wearing thin and you’re waiting until the painfully slow last few seconds go by and it finally ends. “I don’t get it. Is this some kind of society?” You whisper back to her.

“Kinda…yeah, it’s a host club-” You don’t hear the rest of what she says, everyone starts chaotically packing up their laptops and notes, abruptly leaving the lecture hall once it ends and flooding the exits with traffic.

You do the same, and so does yoon. Once you’re out in the hallway and away from the trampling stampede, she begins animatedly trying to sell the idea to you again.

“I went to that badminton taster session for you because you wanted to go! And I got hit in the face with a racket, so that means you totally have to come with me this time.”

You sigh inconveniently, adjusting the strap of your bag higher on your shoulder. You supposed you could go to it for her, you were free the rest of the evening. “Fine, what’s it actually about again?”

She rubs at the back of her neck, pausing, looking sheepish and surprisingly hesitant for a second. Your eyebrow raises at this.

“You really don’t know? Surely you must have heard of it? It’s really popular.”

You shrug your shoulders, very intrigued. “No.”

“What rock are you living under...” Yoon exasperatedly mumbles, “Well…you know like, a normal host club? Where males entertain people with like, alcohol and pretend to be like, their boyfriends? Well….we have one. At the university. Except, it’s more like a tea-and-conversation, flirting, with the five most handsome and richest students here.”

You stop walking. She stops walking. Someone behind you nearly bumps into both your backs, giving you both an irritated glare as they walk past. You study her face, but she’s looking at you with complete sincerity. “Oh my god. You’re serious.” You start walking again, faster this time, shaking your head. “You rich people are bizarre.”

When you’d joined the university on a scholarship, you had come to find out just how terrible and outlandish these nepotism children really were firsthand. They operated on an entirely different plane of existence. This manages to top the cake though. They really do fuckall with their time, anything but actually studying. It’s not like it really matters though, they’ll still become heirs of multi-million pound companies anyway.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds. Truly!” Yoon insists, jogging to match your pace.

“How is this allowed?”

Yoon shrugs. “The creator’s family is like, the main funder of the university.”

You’re not surprised. “Of course.” You tighten your hold on the strap of your bag. “So, these people are whoring themselves out basically?” How is this ethical?

“Come on, it’s harmless and fun! It’s Furry Friday!”

“Furry…what?” You try to blink yourself awake, staring off into the end of the hallway, dissociated. Why do you even bother anymore?

“Yeah, and there’s Maid Monday too…it’s just like a cool events cafe. There’s themes. It’s cute!”

“So, do these people sleep with their guests too?” You joke, casting a sideways glance at your friend, giving up with the actual questioning of the existence of this club at a prestigious university.

Yoon looks to her left and right, covering her mouth with her hand and whispers. “Ssh. That’s more of an underground thing. They’re very selective about it and it’s superrr expensive.”

Your face drops. “What?” This is not right. You drag a hand down your face, sighing heavily. “You really want me to go to this with you?”

Your friend nods her head enthusiastically, clasping her hands together. “Please. I need to get over my last scarring situationship.”

You give your friend a pointed look. “Didn’t she like, borrow £700 off you and you never saw her again? There’s not much to get over.”

Yoon grimaces as if she’s living through it all again, not wanting the reminder. “Yes, she had some gambling issues. But, she was so perfect other than that.” Yoon sighs wistfully. “Come on, I paid for both our entry fees already. Food’s included.”

Your ears perk up at that, staring at your friend who now has a sneaky little smile creeping up on her face, knowing she’s already won. You pause. Food is included? You wouldn’t pass up on free food…Damn that your friend knows you well. You huff resignedly. “Okay…I’ll go with you.”

Yoon squeals, bringing your hands to hers and jumping up and down aggressively. “Thanks! You’re the best.”

Now, you stand in the endless queue of other students waiting to get into the club, a snake of a line going right to the end of the corridor and around the corner. It really must be popular. How had you never heard of it before? There’s a permanent sign on the door reading ‘TXT HOST CLUB’. They even have their own personal room at the university? Even from outside, you can already hear loud squealing and high pitched screams at whatever is going on in the room.

Finally, eventually, it comes to both your turns, reaching the front. Yoon shows some ticket online and you’re allowed in, the big gilded doors opening, and you’re momentarily blinded by a sudden light.

You’re not entirely sure what you were expecting, but it’s definitely not this; five guys in animal ears and paws, dancing to some girl group song on a raised platform. The spacious room is all pink with even pink marbled floor, fancy chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and ribbons and streamers decorating the walls and pillars. There’s cardboard cutouts of the members all around the room in absurd outfits, vampires, maids, fairies, princes, sanrio, mermaids, knights, traditional clothing, and more.

You’re escorted onto a free table with Yoon. Even the tables are decorated so lovely with floral lace cloth and a vase of flowers in the middle. There’s tiered cake stands with the yummiest looking sandwiches, cakes, pastries, tarts, and macarons. Laid too, are expensive-looking intricate painted tea sets and teapots. Maybe, perhaps, you could get behind this for the food.

Yoon doesn’t pay attention to anything on the table though, she’s too busy watching the performance, entirely enamoured and delighted by it, clapping and cheering them on.

“Oh, wow…” You watch it too, in disbelief, still trying to process your surroundings. All of this feels like a complete, bizarre, fever dream, but you have to admit, they were surprisingly pretty good at dancing, synchronisation quite insane for a bunch of random pompous dudes.

“I should introduce you to them all!” Yoon shouts over the music, excitedly pointing at one on the far right. “That’s taehyun! He’s super smart and stoic,” then she moves her pointed finger to the left each time, “that’s Kai he’s super sweet and cute! Oh-and that’s beomgyu he’s super emo and plays guitar, that’s soobin he’s a sweet posh boy and the president, and that’s…” Yoon sighs dreamily at the man on the far left, clasping her hands together, “that’s Choi Yeonjun. The It boy. He’s my fav. He’s such a prince.” She swoons. The poor descriptions weren’t all that insightful to you, to be honest.

Their performance ends with claps and screams, and then, you can finally tuck into the foods on the table, trying every single different assortment of pastries. The hosts had stepped off the platform, coming to the guests and their tables, speaking and chatting to them, the music lowered to soft ambient jazz. You can hear giggling… and barks and meows, and the strange things some guests are requesting for.

“Kai! Do a bark, do a bark!”

“Woof, woof!”

“Soobin, can you say that I’m your owner?”

“Beomgyu, I wanna be your pet!”

“I just wanna be your dog!”

You may have lost your appetite a little. But you try for it not to deter you.

One second, you’re looking down, scoffing the sandwiches on your plate, then you’re looking back up and you’re suddenly surrounded by the five men out of nowhere, looming over your table. You’re terrified, freezing mid-bite. Yeonjun, who you’d recognised as yoon’s favourite, comes to smoothly kiss her hand.

“Ah,” he sighs, “My lovely Yoon. Our loyal guest, will you be requesting for me again?”

Your friend is blushing and giggling, looking moments away from fainting. You raise a brow, gulping down the food in your mouth, turning your head her way with furrowed brows. “Again? I thought you’d never been here before. You didn’t want to come alone?”

Yoon coughs, embarrassed “Uhhm. Ahem. I never said I hadn’t been here before. Simply just wanted your company this time…”

You shake your head, finishing the rest of your sandwich, still feeling self conscious at the men still by your table. When were they going to leave?

“Ooh we’ve got a new guest, guys!” One of them says, noticing you, you think his name is Kai. The others lean in curiously at you, zeroing in. You feel like an animal at a zoo. This is very odd. Especially since they’re the ones still wearing pet ears and furry gloves.

Yeonjun theatrically reaches for your hand, kissing the back of yours too, grinning and winking. “Pleasure to meet you, beautiful being. I’m yeonjun. Choi yeonjun. What’s your name, pretty?”

“They look frightened…” Taehyun whispers to kai.

The rest of them introduce themselves, shaking your hand like a normal person.

Once you’re done with shoving the last bit of your sandwich down, you quickly dab around your mouth with a napkin and you abruptly rise from your seat, standing up, ready to leave. Your time here is more than done, and you so desperately want to get away from this uncomfortableness. “Well! Lovely to meet you all. Must get going haha...”

“Wait! You haven’t chosen a favourite yet!” Yeonjun stops you.

“Everyone picks one.” Beomgyu, the one with multiple facial piercings says with his hands in his pockets.

“Usually under twenty seconds.” Taehyun adds, checking his extravagant watch that probably costs more than your tuition fees. “The average is 17.83 seconds.”

“Yeah. Which one of us is the most handsome?” Soobin pushes the glasses he’s wearing gently up his nose bridge, tilting his head at you.

They all come even closer to you simultaneously, crowding you, staring at you intensely and expectantly, awaiting your answer. All of their jaws are raised up, sweeping hands through their hairs confidently, and posing for you, doing weird expressions with their faces as if they were in some modelling photoshoot.

“Um…I wouldn’t know.” They’re all very good looking. How were you supposed to choose just one? And how would you have a favourite already?

Taehyun crosses his arms. “You don’t know?”

“Just choose one! Come on!” Kai urges you, jumping on the spot.

“Yeah.” They all start saying and agreeing together, growing impatient and slightly agitated, wanting you to choose one of them already.

So, you try again, staring at each of their faces individually, trying to be pragmatic about it so you can finally get out of here. First, you analyse yeonjun, silky blonde hair, fox-like sharp eyes, piercings all on his ears. Then soobin, soft black hair, glasses, a bunny like nose and mouth, wearing a cute sweater vest. Then beomgyu, brown shaggy messy wolfcut, soft brown eyes, but dark thick eyebrows with a piercing on one of them, a dermal piercing, and lip rings too. Then at kai, fluffy white hair, angelic features overall and a pretty nose, holding a stuffed plush penguin toy in his hand. And finally, at taehyun, big round eyes, high cheekbones and a chiselled face, wearing a whole ass corporate suit for some reason.

“I really don’t know!”

“You have to. Gun to your head. Three—” Beomgyu raises three fingers.

“TWO.” All five of them start to join in, shouting in unison.

“Why are we counting?!”

“ONE.”

“ZER—”

The counting down, for some reason, and the fact that five absurdly attractive, very tall men are still crowded around you and shouting, makes you panic and stress and you feel very under pressure.

“Okay, okay! Oh-umm!-uh-Yeonjun!” You blurt out frantically. You don’t know why you say that name, you just choose the most memorable one to get them off your back.

There’s silence and the others recoil dramatically, betrayed, and they give you such disgusted looks.

“Terrible taste.” Taehyun clicks his tongue. The others are shaking their heads at you.

Meanwhile, yeonjun looks moments away from ascending, “I knew it!” Yeonjun’s eyes are practically shining, grabbing your shoulders excitedly, ecstatic and smug and violently shaking you. He runs a hand through his blonde hair once more, sighing out at himself as if he were in some sort of shampoo advertisement. “I knew you’d pick me.” He punches your arm playfully.

“Ow…” You rub at your arm to soothe it, it actually hurts. He punched you pretty hard. He looks like he’s about to hit you again in excitement, you back away as far as you can, taking a few steps back, fearfully.

You bump into something behind you. It wobbles. And that’s when you hear something smash so distinctly loud and hard onto the pink marble floor, exploding. Hesitantly, you slowly, dreadfully, turn around, thinking you already know what might have happened.

You had caused a very expensive looking sculpture of the five boys with roses in each their hands, to collapse straight onto the ground and smash into millions of smithereens, thousands of tiny little pieces scattered across and flying everywhere.

Everyone in the room turns their heads at the dissonant sound, gasping, teacups freezing halfway to their lips. You stare at the scene completely mortified. You can feel your soul departing your body, mentally already digging your grave to lie in. You could literally cry.

“Oh my god!” Yeonjun runs and drops straight down to his knees at the death of the artwork. “Our most expensive sculpture, all the way from Italy! Custom made from the renowned artist Angelo Pasquarelli, he passed away recently! This was the last remaining piece of art he ever made!”

Well, that doesn’t serve to make you feel any better. At all. You don’t even know what to do. You don’t have any parents that can pay this for you. You can’t even begin to imagine how much it actually costs and how you’ll ever be able to repay it, and how much debt you’ll be in now. “I’m so sorry! Oh my-I’m so, so, so sorry! I don’t know-i wasn’t looking where I was going.”

You can feel how ironic this is. You came here for the free food, now you’re massively in debt somehow.

Taehyun, the treasurer of the club, comes to crouch down beside yeonjun, staring at the remnants with visible pain and anguish too. “This was supposed to be an art investment for the club…I told you we shouldn’t have kept it out here in the open.” He murmurs sharply to yeonjun.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t afford to pay for this.” You admit. “I’m literally only here on a scholarship. Is there any other way I can help? I’ll do anything. Anything at all.”

“Hm. You can’t afford to repay for the damage?” Soobin raises a brow at you, thinking. He pulls the rest of the boys into a huddle. You hear intense whispering as they deliberate your fate.

Yoon panics for you, stepping in. “It’s going to be okay!” She reassures you, feeling slightly guilty as she was the one who brought you here when you hadn’t particularly wanted to in the first place. “I’ll try and pay for some of it for you!”

“No, that’s alright. They won’t have to pay for any of it. No one has to.” Soobin speaks up, all of them finally pulling apart.

You feel so relieved, clasping a hand to your heart that had minutes before giving out entirely. “Oh. Oh my god. Thank you, thank you-”

“You’ll repay us in another way.” Soobin thoughtfully explains. “Next week, the host club is holding a special events week.”

“For the first time ever,” Kai interrupts excitedly, “each host gets their own solo event where we can do whatever we want!”

Soobin nods. “Yes, we’ve never done events purely by ourselves before and we’ll need additional assistance.”

“You,” yeonjun says, flamboyantly pointing directly at you, “are going to become our assistant!”

“Monday to Friday,” Soobin confirms. “One host per day. You’ll help organise events, carry things, run errands, and deal with guests. You’ll work off your debt to the host club.”

“Just five days? That’s it?” That didn’t seem too bad at all, it’s an alarmingly good deal. You were expecting something significantly worse. How hard can it be? Only working five days to pay off the debt for a supposedly very valuable and rare sculpture? You can definitely do that. “Alright. I’ll do it.” You shake soobin’s hand, determined than ever.

“Yayy! Yippeee!” All five of the boys start clapping and cheering delightfully at you. You don’t know why they’re so happy.

“And guess what?” Yeonjun grins gleefully. “My event is the first one.” He takes your arm in his, interlocking and hooking your arms, and then completely drags you away. You throw one last pleading look at yoon through the gilded doors in case it’s the last time you ever see your dear friend again.

But she just giggles at you, calling out. “You’ll be fine. It will be fun!” She cheerfully waves at you being hauled out of the host club room.

“Woah.”

You stand in the doorway of yeonjun’s sleek studio apartment in awe, which hardly looks anything like student accommodation. You wander further inside, taking it all in. It is massive, everything down to the furniture and interior looking way too luxurious, with a fancy kitchen, living room, a big en-suite bathroom, and a walk in closet filled with designer clothes. That doesn’t seem to be enough though since there’s clothing racks near the windows too with garments, a mannequin, framed fashion sketches and artwork pinned on a wall, designer magazines stacked on a unique-looking coffee table.

It’s Buckingham Palace compared to your place. Your student accommodation was one tiny shoe box room, a shared bathroom and kitchen. But you had chosen the very cheapest you could afford.

“Do you like it? It’s a bit small. My bedroom is bigger than this in my mansion, but this is still cool and cosy.” Yeonjun stands in front of the wide floor-to-ceiling windows that showcase the city skyline. He looked genuinely apologetic about it too.

“Mansion…” You shouldn’t be so surprised by now, so many people you have met at the university do live in them, but it still manages to shock you a little no matter how many times you hear it casually mentioned.

Yeonjun turns around excitedly. “Hey, maybe we can go to my house after this and I can show you! Get you to meet my parents already, ay?” Yeonjun winks at you. “It’s just a five minute walk!”

“A five minute walk?” You gawk incredulously, “If your house is so close to campus, why would you ever waste money getting student accommodation?” It fills you more with slight disgust at the wastefulness rather than jealousy.

Yeonjun huffs. “My parents said the same thing. But I wanted to have that uni experience, you know? Plus, I needed to be more independent. It’s a good thing. That student lifestyle, it’s pretty hard sometimes.”

“So…you've achieved this student lifestyle by moving five minutes away from your mansion into a luxury apartment?” Wow, this is certainly going on the list of out of touch things you’ve heard students say.

“Yep!” The confidence with which he answers is quite commendable.

“Oh, okay, so you’re paying for it yourself?” You don’t mean to pry, you’re just genuinely trying to understand a bit.

“No…my parents pay for it.”

You nod. “Right.”

“Oh! Would you like anything to drink or eat by the way?” Yeonjun politely offers you.

“Just some water is good.”

He grabs two high-end bottled waters from his high-end fridge too and passes one to you. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” Both of you come to plop yourselves on his sofa. “But you cook?” You ask him assumedly.

“I don’t know how. But my chefs come from the house every morning to make me meals. It’s lovely.” He obliviously beams at you, lounging comfortably against the cushions, one arm draped across the backrest.

You just nod along at this point, sipping on your water. You noted chef was plural, but you’re not sure where the independence is. “Well, anyways,”

He sits up right again, shifting closer to you, a bit too close. “Yes! Let’s plan my event.”

“So,” you say, “any ideas?”

“I already know what I want to do.” He seems very proud of this. “Fashion is my passion. Hey, that rhymes. Maybe I could be a poet too.”

“Sure.” You say tiredly, waiting for him to tell you what he’s got planned.

“Flirty Fashion Workshop.” He stares back at you expectantly, smirking like he was expecting some sort of praise for this.

Your face scrunches up. “What the hell is a ‘Flirty Fashion Workshop’?”

Enthusiastically, yeonjun explains. “They’re sewing, I’m showing them how to use the sewing machine like this-” he leans into you, placing his hands over yours as if he were showing you how to work some phantom sewing machine, feeling his breath on your neck as he guides your hands.

“Okay, I didn’t need a personal demonstration on it.” You swat his arms away.

Yeonjun shrugs but winks cheekily at you once again. “Your loss. People pay for this, y’know?” Undeterred, he continues to explain more of his idea, “I’ll make step-by-step, visual demonstrations on how to make basic articles of clothing and they can decorate it however they want with different fabrics and beads and embroidery and creativeness. I’ll come around, helping and flirting, of course. Then, once everyone is done, we’ll have a little fashion show where everyone can model and show off their work! Isn’t that so great?”

You can see the appeal for it, from what you saw earlier, you have no doubt it’ll work and keep guests very satisfied. It’ll probably be a huge success. You nod at him. “Hm. What we need first is all the equipment and materials for this then.”

Yeonjun nods too. “I’ll ask to borrow all the sewing machines from the fashion department. We just need lots of textiles and fabric, threads, scissors, pins, beads, buttons, decorative materials, and other things.”

“Where should we get all of that from?” You query.

“We’ll buy it, of course. Taehyun made a spending card for the club. Off to the city centre!”

“After you.” Yeonjun gentlemanly opens the car door for you, rushing out of his to come around unnecessarily for yours.

The walk to the city centre was just under twenty minutes, but he had insisted on his chauffeur driving you both there anyway.

Yeonjun leads you to a bustling street with independent craft & art shops and fabric markets. The energy is so totally different compared to the commercial, homogeneous high streets you’d passed on the way, it’s bright and welcoming and filled with such unique characters of shops.

First, you buy lots and lots of fabric as you’ll be needing a lot of those. He seems to really be in his element, ecstatically showing you and speaking words about materials and their compositions only someone studying fashion would know, making you touch and feel them all too.

All of the vendors even seemed to recognise him, happily greeting and conversing with him, faces lighting up whenever he walked in, acting like he was some sort of long lost son of theirs whenever he stepped into a different shop. Yeonjun is very chatty, talking to them all for a while. One elderly woman even abandoned a conversation halfway with another customer just to pull yeonjun in for a hug and squeeze his cheeks. He’s not just famous in the host club, you observed.

You’re lugging along countless heavy bags of materials you’ll need for the workshop by now, shoulders and arms aching, you and yeonjun exhausted, hours blurred and overloaded by endless textiles. But it was a little fun, there’s a certain beauty in watching a person be passionate about something, oddly fascinating to follow yeonjun along.

You make one final stop to buy packs of sequins, and finally, you have all the equipment you need. Both of you make a turn on a street, noticing a brightly coloured ice cream shop. All the shopping, conversing and carrying must have clearly gotten to yeonjun, he’s drawn to it instantly like a moth to a flame, trudging you along with him, allowing you little time to protest.

He’s staring at the menu in deep concentration, brows furrowed but practically salivating. “Could I have the largest tub with one scoop of tiramisu and one scoop of rose please?”

You take a little longer to decide what you’ll like, settling on the smallest tub (it’s cheaper), and ordering a scoop of strawberry cheesecake and chocolate. Before you’re about to put your own card down, yeonjun dramatically steps in, practically shoving you out of the way and slamming his own down instead. “No. It’s on me, of course. A prince never lets anyone else pay.” He puts one hand to his heart, closing his eyes like he was reciting something religious.

“Oh, thank you.”

The ice cream scooper seems more affected by the gesture than you are, completely swooning at yeonjun. “Wow, what a gentleman!”

Yeonjun giggles at the compliment. “Hehe. Thank you!”

“You’re such a handsome young man. Ah, young love. Go on, i’ll give you both an extra scoop.” They lean in over the counter, hushing.

Yeonjun gasps. “You’re so kind! Thank you so much.”

Yeonjun is giggling, the scooper is giggling back too. You’re affronted by the whole exchange. Is life just this easily kind to Choi Yeonjun? But, you say your thanks too, not complaining about more ice cream for free. Everyone seems to be absolutely smitten by this dude’s charms. Sure, he’s attractive and he’s got great social skills, but people act like he’s above human. Are they seeing something you don’t?

Eventually, you can sit down at the tables, dropping the bags to your feet. You’re in a much better mood after sitting down and once you’re eating the well deserved ice cream, the creaminess and flavour melting on your tongue, plus the fact yeonjun paid for it is a great bonus, both of you happily talking more about yeonjun’s event between spoonfuls.

“Wanna try my tiramisu flavour? Say ahhh.” Yeonjun brings his spoon to you in an attempt to feed you, wriggling the spoon around your face, a generous scoop of pale brown ice cream perched upon it.

You flat out refuse, instead, bringing your own spoon to take a swipe of his yourself. “Mm. It’s good.”

Yeonjun watches you continue to eat without offering your own. “I wanna try the strawberry cheesecake one too.” Yeonjun leans forwards, tasting yours without asking. He’d taken quite a large amount too. “Mmh! This is yummy! I must get this next time.”

“Hey, I never said you could try mine.”

“Let’s take pics of our date.” Yeonjun ignores your complaining, getting out his phone and taking a series of selfies with you.

You stop and stare at him across from you before you can take another spoon of ice cream. “It’s not a date.”

Yeonjun shrugs again, unbothered. “Did you know I have seventy percent request rate?People would pay a lot to go on an ice cream date with me.”

You set down your spoon in the tub, reminded of something you wanted to ask. You don’t get it. “Why would you make a host club when you don’t need any of the money?”

“I love entertaining people. It’s my thing. I’m good at it.” He’s not looking at you, his brows are furrowed as he tries to fish out the last bits of his rose ice cream from the edges. You’d noticed he furrowed his brows a lot when concentrating on something.

“Fair enough.” You nod in understanding, you can’t deny that. From today alone you’ve witnessed just how many people he can amuse. It seemed people easily gravitated towards choi yeonjun.

“But also I don’t have any siblings.” He pulls his full lips into a slight pout, continuing, brows further furrowed, “I always wanted one, so many of them actually. I kept begging but my parents didn’t want any more. And it got pretty lonely when they were overseas so often. I’ve always wondered what it felt like to have siblings. Now I’ve got them!”

It’s your turn to furrow your eyebrows. “By…making a host club?”

“It’s something I’ve always wanted to do. I personally sought out all the members myself. Now, they’re all like my four brothers! I cherish them and the club a lot. It’s very important to me. They’re my family.” Yeonjun warmly beams.

He has that glint in his eyes from earlier on when you were in the fabric markets, and like before, you can’t bring yourself to actually hate on it, he’s clearly passionate and sincere about it, so you just hum in agreement.

“That’s actually…sorta nice, still bizarre though.”

Yeonjun grins. “Did that woo you?”

“No.”

You’re back in yeonjun’s studio apartment. It’s completely dark outside by now, the city skyline view from his big windows look different after the sun had set, now it’s all just lots of constellations of scattered lights. You sit on one end of yeonjun’s sofa in the living room with the warm glow of orange and amber lamps he’d put on instead of his main lights, playing low music in the background from his turntable, the ambience nice to focus in.

Yeonjun is on the opposite end of the sofa, a large sketch pad sitting on his lap as he draws out the step-by-step demonstrations for the simple garments, you can hear his constant scribbling from his pencil meeting paper too. You are on your laptop, currently focused on the duration and structure of what should be happening in the workshop and making a small slideshow for it.

“Does it look fine?” Yeonjun lifts his sketch pad for you to see the diagrams.

You scan the illustrations briefly. “Mhm. They’re easy to follow.”

You continue typing. By the time you finish the final slide, your shoulders ache slightly from hunching over the laptop. You lean back against the sofa, stretching your limbs, eyes drifting to the other side of the sofa. Yeonjun is still sketching, completely absorbed, eyebrows characteristically drawn together as he focuses, lips in a slight duck-like pout and his blonde hair now having more of the resemblance of honey under the colours of the lamps.

“Done admiring me? Daydreaming about kissing me?” Yeonjun looks up, lazily grinning as he notices your stare.

You heavily roll your eyes at him. “You’re not my type.”

“I’m everyone’s type.” He confidently states. You shake your head, sighing out at his ego, but he starts again, “Hey, you’re the one who picked me as the most handsome.” Yeonjun puffs out his chest, still pleased by that.

“Yeah, under duress. I only picked you because your name was the first I remembered.”

For some reason, he remains proud. “So what you’re saying is that I’m very memorable.”

You drop your head back against the sofa and the wall behind you. “Lord…”

“You’re bluffing. Bet you do actually daydream about kissing me.” Yeonjun goads. “I wouldn’t blame you.”

You snort. “Kissing? You wish.”

He places his sketch pad away from his lap and onto the part of the sofa next to him, smirking at you. “Oh, I do wish.”

You narrows your eyes at him. “Really? What about?”

He cockily moves and leans forwards, coming close to your face, his stupid smirk never leaving, humoured. “Lots and lots of things.”

You know he enjoys flirting without you doing anything back, meaninglessly flirting with you countless of times today without you reacting. You know he gets a kick out of it, so you decide to retaliate back this time, having had enough of it. If Yeonjun wants to play this game so badly, then maybe it's time somebody plays it back. You’ll see what he does then.

“You know what I think?” You grab him by the collar of his shirt, pulling his face even closer to yours, grinning yourself and making your voice sultry sounding. “I think you’re all talk. Bet you couldn’t actually even kiss me.”

He instantly pulls his face away, flustered, shocked by what you say, eyes wide, not expecting you to say something like that back to him. Especially since you hadn’t entertained anything else he’d said this entire day. “What?” Yeonjun’s face flushes immediately, turning unmistakably bright, beet red from his neck and ears too. His mouth clamps shut. And for perhaps the first time since meeting him, yeonjun seems quite speechless. The legendary flirt of the host club couldn't handle being flirted with back, he was accustomed to being the one in control of every conversation.

There’s an attempt to regain his composure though, clearing his throat and trying to confidently smile back. “I could and I would. Do you want me to?”

“Yeah. Go on then.” You challenge him, chin raised high, poking the bear with a stick.

He’s not sure if you’re serious, and yeonjun hesitates. “Fine.” He leans in, face close to yours again, staring at you falteringly with his narrowed feline eyes, but trying to make it seem formidable. Close enough once more that you can see the mole next to his eye, see the shadows the dark warm lighting casts on his cheek bones, making them that much more prominent, and smell the faint scent of his expensive cologne. You’re equally staring back with heated, daring eyes. You’re so sure you’ve won. He’s not going to do it. It’s all just talk.

Your eyes flicker down to his pouty lips, his rich, cushiony lips. They had such a pretty, distinctive shape to them that you’ve never seen before. For a small second, you wonder what they’d feel like against yours if he did actually lean in more, but you shake it away. Are you slowly being charmed too? Has he put a spell on you? Is this how he does it?

At last, yeonjun draws back, running a hand through his hair.

You’re just about to laugh in victory, knowing he’s lost, knowing his words hold no meaning to them, but then, yeonjun suddenly surges forwards, grabbing your face. His mouth mushes with yours fiercely and you gasp into it, startled. You find your lips move back with his, perhaps you’ll still win if you’re not the first to break away.

Both of you continue kissing for a long time, mouths sliding together, teeth over lips, taking it in turns to suck his bottom lip, then his upper lip. You don’t know if this is still part of the game but it’s starting to feel less significant as time goes on and your lips meet again and again, colliding with soft breaths. You’re enjoying it, yeonjun’s heavenly lips feel good on yours. You definitely feel like you’re under a spell right now, all almost hypnotic. Maybe he’s a witch. You’d like to believe that more than any of this being of your own will.

Barely an inch separates when you both pull apart for some air. Yeonjun is staring at you, entranced and dishevelled with rosy cheeks. His usually perfect hair has fallen into his eyes, and his plush lips were beyond swollen and tinted so red, all the blood vessels rupturing there from your kissing and biting. His breathing is totally uneven. The image and how stark it is makes your stomach flip and flutter.

Then, you’re kissing him again.

You’re touching and gripping onto each other’s bodies in different places as you continue to make out. Your lips reach yeonjun’s angular jaw, then down, brushing against the warm skin of his neck, leaving kisses and still being able to smell his lingering, delicious cologne that’s been able to last the whole day. He lets you, tipping his head back as his eyes flicker closed and his hold on your waist tightens.

Playfully, your hand reaches down to stroke his thigh and then his crotch, grinding the palm against the hardening dick in his pants. You like leading the whole of this, it’s amusing. Yeonjun goes completely still with a sharp, shaky intake of breath, mouth falling open. But just as you’re about to pull his dick out to actually touch him, his hand slaps against your wrist, stopping you. “N-no. Let me.”

You tilt your head. “Huh?”

“Let me eat you out.”

Wow. You thought yeonjun would just want to get his dick wet. He certainly looks like he needs a hand wrapped around it right now, but he’s offering to tend to you instead.

You shrug. “Okay.” You’re definitely not one to complain. So, you lie on your back for him.

Yeonjun sheds off all the articles of clothing of your lower half, grabbing the back of your knees to push you closer to him on the sofa. He spreads your legs, his sharp eyes heavily lidded at the sight, practically salivating. “Pretty…”

He wastes no time in diving into your pussy immediately, shoving his face in and licking up a long stripe of your cunt, before completely messily making out with your pussy, groaning and grunting against you, holding onto the flesh of your thighs tighter. You satisfyingly sigh out at the dim ceiling your eyes are fixed on before closing your eyes all together, biting your lip.

You grab ahold of yeonjun’s hair, fingers threading through the soft messy blonde locks and tugging just hard enough to make noises escape his throat in response.

Yeonjun attaches his perfect pretty lips to your clit, sucking, suctioning so vigorously until the bundle of nerves are even puffier than his lips. They feel even better on your clit, like they’re made just for that. He focuses completely on your pleasure, furrowing his brows as he eats you out, humming and whining and groaning, licking and sucking. The sounds of him smothered in your pussy are so audible, taking over the music still playing on the record player, and so obscene, so wet, you can only oddly describe it as if yeonjun is hungrily devouring a bowl of ramen, enthusiastically slurping and inhaling it all.

“Am I finally pleasing you? Weren’t pleased with anything I was doing before.” Yeonjun lifts his head up to look at you desperately and obsessively. He clearly takes this very seriously, intent on making you feel good.

“Mmh, sure. Keep going.” You don’t really care for anything he’s saying, barely listening, you’re nearly reaching the edge, so you grab more of a fistful of his hair, grinding down on his face. You guess he wasn’t wrong about being good at entertaining people.

Knowing you’re close, yeonjun brings his signet ringed fingers to your hole, quickly fucking them into you and lapping at your clit with his tongue, flicking over and over again, your slick gushing out as he does this. It manages to bring you over, thighs clenching around his face and cumming all on him. You moan out loud and so does yeonjun at the view of you orgasming, nuzzling into your cunt further and licking up everything you give out.

Eventually, he lifts up from between your legs, your juices coating all around his enlarged lips, that they look like he put on some kind of really shiny plumping lip gloss. With a happy, drowsy smile, yeonjun licks it all off around his mouth. Then, licks his fingers clean off too, his family heirloom ring, dripping in your cum. Usually effortlessly confident yeonjun, looks incapable of forming any actual thought.

“Fuck me.” You tell him, looking down at the way his dick is practically crying to be let out of his pants, slight patch of precum dribbled out on it. You pull his zipper down, freeing his dick and pumping his achy red, leaky cock, rubbing your thumb over the tip and swiping at the fluid on his sensitive slit. Yeonjun curses, hips bucking and mouth hanging open, blissed out at the stimulation.

“Fuck you? Sure…Yeah… I-i can do that.” Yeonjun breathes out, so far gone already.

“You want to make me feel good, don’t you?” You spread your legs again, holding his gaze.

“Yes.” It seems to snap whatever restraint he has left. Yeonjun quickly goes to grab condoms from somewhere, nearly knocking something over in the process. When he finally gets ahold of one, he comes back, tearing the packet open with his teeth in a rush. Which you’ll admit, does something to you.

He frantically pushes the condom onto his cock, and you can only describe yeonjun’s face as purely debauched after he lines up his swollen fat tip to your pussy and pushes in, bottoming out completely, your walls sucking and swallowing him in so good, filling you up so good, both of you gutturally groaning. “Oh my g-ughh…” He moans every single time he pushes back in, mouth slack, long pretty whines and cries escaping him.

You wrap your legs tightly around his waist, pulling him closer and sheathing his dick deeper into you. Your hands slide up his back, digging your nails into the muscles there and yeonjun’s eyes nearly roll to the back of his head at that. It’s not long at all until yeonjun just completely loses himself in the feeling of you, his thrusts quickly building up in speed, slamming his hips harder and deeper, erratically.

He’s so unrhythmic with it, sloppily still trying to fuck you as his brain turns to absolute mush, he can barely do it, his pretty lips staying parted with how delirious he is. Yeonjun’s hips are practically shaking with every roll and you think he might actually fall on top of you. He tries to hold onto you, face falling into the crook of your neck, biting down there, utterly wrecked, drooling all on your neck now with muffled moans and groans.

You’ve had enough of his dumb useless rutting, growing tired of the position. You roughly pull at his hair to bring his face back up and away from your neck. He looks at you practically cross-eyed, slurring. “Shit, you can’t even fuck me. Pull out.” You tell him.

Yeonjun panics, confused, shaking his head. “Huh? What-please, please.”

“Just pull out.”

He does as you say, whining and wailing at you like a hurt animal. You roll your eyes at his dramatics, shoving him down onto the sofa instead. “Calm down. I’m fucking you myself.”

“No, I-i can fuck you. ‘m sorry. I can do it.” Yeonjun tries to beg, profusely apologising, not wanting to feel useless to you, wanting to make you feel good, tears appearing in the waterline of his eyes from how muddled his mind is.

“Sssh. It’s okay.” You stuff two of your fingers into his mouth to shut him up, but also, wanting to watching him suck your fingers because you’re weirdly fixated on his gorgeously shaped, plump lips now. The sight of him sucking with sparkly tearful eyes is so hot and debasing.

Pulling your fingers out of his mouth, you straddle yeonjun, grabbing his dick. You place it at your entrance and unceremoniously sit down on the whole of his dick fast in one go, taking him all in to the hilt, until your hips meet his. It knocks the air out of yeonjun, theatrically throwing his head back and it has you sighing in pleasure at having his cock inside you again, stretched out at a more delicious angle.

“You need me to fuck you, baby. Don’t you?” You hold onto his abdomen, swivelling your hips around him and then beginning to ride him as yeonjun moans and mewls out so brazenly loud.

“Yeahyeah-mmm.” Yeonjun is fickle as shit, not complaining at all once he feels your pussy, in fact, he likes it more now since he’s not doing any of the work.

You lift yourself off and slam back down, bouncing on him faster and faster at an unrelenting pace and yeonjun just lays there underneath you, looking pretty and almost doll-like with his blushed cheeks and glossed lips in the shape of an ‘o’, happily taking it all in pure ecstasy, tongue lolling out and contently moaning high pitched like a girl.

You can’t help but chuckle at the view of yeonjun beneath you, brushing a strand of damp hair from his sweat-beaded forehead. “You’re more like a princess than a prince, yeonjun. Maybe you should be the princess’s host club instead.”

You thought he might objectify but yeonjun just mindlessly nods. “Kay…long as you’re still fucking me.”

You giggle, bringing your hand to the side of his hot face, stroking your thumb sweetly on his cheek. “You like being taken care of by me?”

Yeonjun nods, leaning into your touch, purring like a cat. “Uh huh.”

You can feel yeonjun’s dick twitching uncontrollably inside of you. “Aww, princess, are you close?” You teasingly coo.

Yeonjun helplessly whimpers. “Yes, so close. Kiss me.”

You tut at him. “You’re not even going to ask nicely? What a spoilt princess.” But you do it anyway, leaning down, capturing his addictive lips with yours, kissing him hungrily, filthily, tongues tangling and swirling together as you ruthlessly ride him, both your brains clouded up by the other, sucking on his tongue nastily too. You clench down on yeonjun’s cock purposefully and he satisfyingly cries into your mouth, you swallowing down all his needy sounds.

You continue to bounce wetly on yeonjun’s girthy cock, going up and down at a mercilessly cruel speed as it creates sticky squelchy sounds, fucking the life out of him whilst his cries accelerate, your ass smacking his full balls every single time, grabbing his shoulders hard to hold onto as you do this, intent on reaching both your highs.

“Ohhhmy god. I’m cummingg!” Yeonjun cums first with garbled, mangled, pornographic whines, spilling his seed and filling the condom with his white gooey substance, back lifting off the sofa and arching as he sees stars everywhere. He pants and heaves, throwing an arm over his face at the overwhelming sensation, trying to come back down to earth, going boneless, feeling like a pile of nothingness, like melted ice cream in the sun.

You continue to use his spent dick and yeonjun just lets you, his lips bitten raw, so close to your own orgasm too, so in reach as you keep jumping on his cock hard, reaching up in a gummy spot inside of you, prodding it every time so good, eyes squeezed shut in complete bliss, sweating so much, thighs aching. You don’t stop though, bringing your hand to rub at your clit too and you’re quickly able to let go, cumming around yeonjun’s throbbing overstimulated dick. You stay there, riding the after waves of it, slowly still moving on yeonjun’s cock, trying to prolong it until you can’t anymore and it stops feeling good.

You collapse on top of yeonjun’s body, utterly exhausted, allowing him to weakly grab and cling onto you as you both drift off.

“Shit, yeonjun. Wake up.” You attempt to shake yeonjun.

The both of you had managed to pass out on the sofa until the next day after the event planning had very abruptly turned into something else entirely. And now, you’re running a little bit late to set everything up for the workshop, neither of you remembering to set an alarm.

Yeonjun stirs in his sleep but doesn’t wake up, pouting with knitted eyebrows.

“Yeonjun.” You shake his shoulders more aggressively, shoving him.

“It’s too early.” He whines.

“No it’s not. Check your phone.”

He groans, but reaches over to grab his phone, checking the time with one eye open, dragging a hand down his face. “Ugh. We have to go already.”

“Yeah.”

He gets up and so do you, quickly getting ready the best you can, grabbing the bundles and armfuls of supplies of everything you need and running over to the host club room.

Both of you rush to get everything prepared, checking the number of attendees, placing all the supplies each person and table will need, such as needles, measuring tapes, embroidery, fabric, scissors, pins. You make sure the screen and PowerPoint is up and ready. Yeonjun had gone to the printer to make individual copies of the demonstrations so everyone has one on a table. The sewing machines also needed to be carried one by one, all the way from the fashion department building and back to where the host club room is, which takes a considerably long time and effort. By the fifth trip, your arms genuinely felt like they were going to fall off and slither to the ground.

The room was finally ready, guests would start arriving any minute. You collapse into a chair, yeonjun dropping down on the one next to you.

And the event goes satisfyingly well. As you had expected, the guests love the idea, following the steps and learning how to sew simple clothes, particularly loving when yeonjun comes around to flirt individually and help with the sewing machines, giggling and blushing into their sleeves. As the assistant, you go around table to table, checking in and giving extra supplies when guests need them, making sure everything is running and working the presentation on the projector as yeonjun confidently talks and teaches. You have to admit, It feels nice and rewarding to watch the whole event actually come to together, seeing everyone enjoy it after planning it for a long while yesterday.

Yeonjun insists on you being his model, wanting to make a top fitted for your measurements.

You groan. “Why do I have to be it, though? There’s plenty people who would love to be your model.”

“You’re my assistant, so you’re my model. Plus, you’re gorgeous enough.” Yeonjun deviously winks, corners of his mouth curling upwards as his eyes rake over you.

You shake your head and defeatedly sigh. You thought his flirting would stop after you had retaliated back, but he’s flirting even more so.

You don’t have much of a choice in being his model, so you stand before him, letting him get to work. You get to see his fashion designing skills in action. He’s very focused, it’s a little endearing, measuring tape draped around his neck, pin held between his lips, catty eyes squinted in concentration. Yeonjun measures, cuts, sews, creating the top and then decorating it. It’s a very pretty beaded, well fitted top with a gaping heart hole. There’s tiny red crystals, sequins and beads on the edges of the heart, cascading downwards like dripping blood, elegant and slightly unsettling. He even manages to make one for himself in the short time frame, making a matching one with a similar concept for himself. His featuring a similar heart motif, though slightly larger, with black crystal embellishments spreading across the chest like fractured veins.

Once everyone is done creating their pieces, there’s loud music playing on speakers as everybody shows off what they made, walking down the makeshift platformed stage acting as a runway, all the guests cheerfully, clapping and supporting each other, the lovely atmosphere is quite infectious. Yeonjun grabs your wrist to walk down the runway together, yeonjun ridiculously posing, hands on his hips, flicking nonexistent long hair as guests scream and whistle so concerningly loud, losing their minds. You do the same, posing too, actually having fun as yeonjun does jazz hands around you.

The aftermath of the event looks significantly less glamorous, the room is a beyond mess, looking like some sort of natural disaster had taken place in it, and unfortunately, both you and yeonjun have to be the ones to tidy and put everything away. The sewing machines nearly killing you off yet again when you have to return them all back to their long journey home.

“Ice cream?” Yeonjun suggests once you’re finally done with clearing the room, panting and sweat ridden from all those cursed sewing machines.

“Yes.” You immediately agree, tired eyes lighting up, wiping sweat off your forehead yourself.

You don’t bring yourself to complain about getting yeonjun’s chauffeured car to the ice cream shop now, despite how within walking distance it is, every muscle in your body so sore. You order the tiramisu flavour and yeonjun gets the strawberry cheesecake, swapping ice creams, having liked what the other got more last time.

Yeonjun jokingly offers you a scoop of his ice cream again to feed it to you, holding it out across the table for you. “Say ahh.”

You narrow your eyes, but challengingly accept, eating it just to watch the shocked expression appear on yeonjun’s face as he hadn’t expected you to actually let him feed you. But then, the stunned reaction changes, the idiot is glowing, widely smiling.

“You’re helping with soobin’s event tomorrow.” Yeonjun says after a bit, resting his chin in his hands and smiling at you across the table.

You had almost forgotten that this wasn’t the end, and only the start. Four more events remained, and four more hosts. The thought alone was exhausting. Tomorrow would be soobin's event and you had absolutely no idea what it would involve.

“Hopefully, you don’t like him as much as you like me.” Yeonjun jokes, but keeps his eyes still lingering on you, something almost faintly wistful about it, though he’s still smiling.

Now that you’ve come to think of it, you’ll never likely be working with yeonjun again after this, feeling the tiniest bit melancholic about it. But you snort anyway. “Who said I liked you?”

“You have to have liked me a little, otherwise sleeping with me would have been a very strange decision on your part.” Yeonjun raises a brow at you, grin only deepening.

You burst into laughter despite yourself, and so does yeonjun.

“Unless,” he adds, placing a hand over his chest in wounded exaggeration, “the sex was so bad and you like me even less now, which would be quite sad.” A dramatic pout pulls at yeonjun’s lips.

As bizzare as yeonjun is, you supposed you get how people can be charmed and pulled in by this man now, because you do find you’re no different than anybody else who likes him anymore.

Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷It’s incredibly discouraging and disappointing when fics have such little reblogs. At least send an anon in the inbox if you don’t want to rb, don’t just like. Feedback is always appreciated it makes writers want to actually write more :)

A/n: I’m so sorry if this is shit and everyone hates it 🤣🤣 Im too scared to read it all back and then change it all and never post it 🤣🤣 i kinda hate this sm. yes I am aware the ending is so poorly written 🤣 Ughh i do have a love hate relationship w this bc I do feel I could have done it wayy better but I just don’t think I would have ever actually posted it so I’m making my peace. but ayyy yeonjun debut on my blog ! I actually have another fic idea for jjun that I want to write so badly too

Taglist: @seoulsonyobeom @rafs127 @soobelie @boba-beom @allmywish @simp4gyu @flowzel @beomfait @sp1derst0rrr @christel109 @itsyagurllay-lay4 @mysteryfem @angel-in-the-living-room @kenmasabg @tubatudiary @ilikelych33 @blueastheoceanlove @divydivyy @heartynoo @yethoughts @v1-xo @nainai112 @idontwantoeatspicy @matchacake2 @swangyu @solomondang @imdefinitelynotamunch @lirinovo @soobhns @taehyunsloves @i4tzy @gordazepam @crashingonneptune @w44nderers @jjunniecoree @bratgyu @bakugosbottombitch @gyubearoo @strawberryshoujosundae @seokqt @hatersblog @soobinz-wife @woahwoahwoahummmmm @desireesbk @idklin0 @evangelicai @elizaldedulce @0leelina0 @snoopxastry @lun4mizuka @tobiofy

you, now a single mother... though, you've been raising your year old son on your own since he was born; the divorce was just waiting to happen.

and you, who knows exactly what yuta okkotsu is getting at when he just drops by your office, or asks how you're doing after almost every class, who gave you his personal number as if that didn't come with a million implications. he's a smart guy; but you're smarter.

grad student!yuta who texts you asking if he can drop by your office for some assistance with his TA work, because why would he ask anyone else when he can ask you?

and you, who is not in the office that day... and yuta knows that.

and you know it's a bad idea when you text him back, sending him a ping of your address and telling him– 'i'm not in the office today, but come by here at 6, yeah?'

grad student!yuta who is wracked with nerves when you open your front door, hair loose, wearing denim shorts and a lace cami and nursing a glass of red wine.

grad student!yuta who is so sure he's never been this hard in his life–

and you, who asks him, "did you want a glass?" gesturing with your wine glass vaguely.

"uh–"

"wait, you're old enough, right?"

"i'm 25."

fuck, this is just a terrible idea.

grad student!yuta who can't stop staring at you when you tie your hair up and your glasses are perched on the edge of your nose as you look over his notes. and he's not listening to a damn word you're saying.

and it's innocent when you grab his shoulder, leaning over the corner of the dining table to point out a paragraph he could edit. but he's not listening. his eyes are glued to the way your tits press together as you lean over, how the strap of your cami has just slightly dropped off your shoulder, how his dick hardens more when you hook one of your legs over the other, your bare foot brushing the inside of his calf under the table.

grad student!yuta whose breath catches in his throat, fist clenching atop his thigh while you talk, tired eyes so wide with feigned innocence.

"you okay, yuta?" your lips part just slightly, stained a little red from the wine and the ultimate object of yuta's desires right now.

grad student!yuta who has a surge of courage amidst the silence; falling victim to your pretty eyes and the way you bat your lashes so innocently as if you don't know exactly what you're doing inviting him into your home.

grad student!yuta whose large hands twitch in his lap as he pushes forward, capturing your wine-bitter lips in a chaste kiss. it lasts barely a second and his cheeks and ears are blooming with red when he pulls away.

"i-i'm so sorry– shit– i-i didn't mean–"

and you attempt and fail to fight off a smile, "you got a little crush on me, yuta?"

and yuta breathes hard, "...with all due respect, ma'am, i don't know of a single student in your class who doesn't."

and you hum, amused, ego a little (very) stroked, "mm... luck you then, hm?"

grad student!yuta who holds your hips down against the dining table with shaky hands; body rampant with nerves, arousal and adrenaline. your lips are driving him crazy; open-mouthed kisses against his jaw, tongue slipping in his mouth and swallowing every whimper and whine that leaves that pretty, unmarked throat.

grad student!yuta who feels hot all over, hands pinning your hips to the table to keep you from grinding your clothed cunt against the bulge in his jeans. because if you do, he's gonna cum.

grad student!yuta who can't help but whimper when you lean back, peeling your cami off your body, exposing your pretty lacy bra that you totally didn't dig out of the bottom of your closet just in case.

your lips are on his, fingers tugging at the hair on the back of his head. your free hand drops to his at your hip, tugging on his wrist and cupping it over your soft tit.

"scared to touch me?"

"no– fuck– i'm just–" his hand moves to the clasp at your back, desperate to taste the skin your bra is hiding.

grad student!yuta who has never had the pleasure of unclasping a bra, who has to peer over your shoulder while you suck and bite at his throat.

"fuck."

you smile against his skin, "need some help there?"

grad student!yuta who nearly creams his pants at the sight of your tits, so full and round and right there–

your thighs clamp around his hips, his mouth panting and salivating before he tastes the sweat on your skin, tongue draaagging up your breast and flicking over the hardness of your nipple.

they hadn't been sensitive before you had your son. but now–

"mm– fuck, yuta–"

you press your hips into his, rolling and grinding your cunt against his cock straaaining in his jeans. your panties are almost soaked through and every nudge and griiiind of your hips rolls your throbbing clit against the slick fabric.

grad student!yuta who can't think straight as you roll yourself against his cock, heat pooling in his stomach so painfully.

grad student!yuta who whimpers at every tug of your fingers in his hair, face hot and flushed as he licks, rolls and sucks on the prettiest tits he's ever seen in his life.

grad student!yuta who tries desperately to recall anything he's learned from porn to try and impress you, to make you want to do this again.

grad student!yuta who–

"f-fuck– ngh"

–just can't stop himself from cumming in his pants from humping against your shorts and squeezing your tits in his palms. hot ropes of sticky cum pool in his jeans and he feels utterly humiliated.

"haah– i-i'm so sorry."

sweat beads down his forehead, hair sticking to his skin as he looks up at you with those adorable, tired eyes. his hands cling to your hips, holding your clothed cunt flush against his pulsing cock.

you can see the slight wet patch in the fabric, the slight twitch of his poor cock in his boxers.

"s'okay, sweetheart," you pet his hair, hand resting against his throat.

his eyes are pressed closed, his senses overwhelmed as he attempts to shake off the tingling of his high.

"why don't i get you some water, hm?"

"b-but what about you?"

you press a peck to his cheek, "s'okay, i had fun."

"i–" his tongue darts out to wet his chapped lips, "i could–"

you tilt your head slightly to the side, stroking the clumped strands of sweaty hair off his forehead.

his voice is low and his breath shudders, "i wanna eat your pussy."

it's meant to be a question but the way he asks? it's like he's begging.

"...you wanna do that?"

yuta's brows furrow, a heavy breath forced out of his lungs as he simply beeeegs– "please."

and who are you to deny a starving man?

grad student!yuta who sinks to his knees like it's the most natural thing in the world. like he's meant to be between your warm thighs with his nose nudging at your clit through your shorts and inhaling–

"smell s'good," he whines, fingers curling into your shorts and panties and tugging them down in one, albeit awkward, motion.

grad student!yuta whose mouth waters at the sight of your glistening pussy, positively dying at the thought of tasting you, of having the sweetness and musk of your slick linger on his tongue for days; dying at the thought of making you cum.

grad student!yuta who makes out with your pussy like he did with your tits, revelling in the sweet noise of pleasure you let out as he presses the flat of his tongue over your hole.

grad student!yuta who lets you guide him exactly where you need him–

"f-fuck– right, there– yes–"

grad student!yuta who rolls your clit with the tip of his tongue, forcing you further onto your back as his hands dig into your thighs, prying them further apart so he can fuck his tongue into you.

grad student!yuta whose cock twitches in his pants, painfully hard and untouched yet completely overstimulated.

grad student!yuta who wants to please you so badly. he listens to every nudge and guide of your hand and hips. attention pricking at the sound of your moans catching in your throat and the feeling of your thighs tensing under his hands.

"s'good, yuta– ngh"

grad student!yuta who is nearly frightened out of his skin by the sound of your phone vibrating on the table.

you peer over, scoff at the caller ID of your ex-husband and ignore it, fingers tensing in yuta's hair and forcing his mouth against your cunt.

your phone buzzes again... and again... and again before you finally answer.

"hello?" your teeth sink into your bottom lip.

"sato's got a fever–"

"well did you give him medicine?"

"no, i don't have any–"

you bite back a moan as yuta spreeeaads your folds apart to suck on your swollen clit.

"i always pack some in his bag– fuck."

"are you on a run right now?"

the air is forced out of your chest when yuta's tongue prods at your clenching hole–

"no– fuck me– can you do anything without having to call me– ngh"

"...are you having sex right now?!"

"no–"

yuta's fingers curl around your phone and tug it out of your grasp. his mouth is glistening with your juices, cheeks flushed pink and he has a pussywhipped look his eye.

"she'll call you back."

There he was, sprayed out on your bed like a five course meal, chest heaving and body all pliant after you wrung him dry. He could barely move anymore, tears-filled eyes staring at you with a mix of arousal and satisfaction.

Your release was dripping out of him slowly, adding onto the mess beneath his milky thighs. His hole was glistening and all red and swollen, looking so abused by now. You were quite rough with him after all. With a view like this, you simply couldn’t help but want to devour him. He gasped when you positioned yourself between his legs again, pleasantly surprised when you began kissing his soiled inner thighs. It tickled, and he squirmed slightly when you inched closer to his more sensitive parts.

The small gasps soon turned into full on moans as you ate him out, his fingers tangled in your hair, not sure if he wanted to grind himself back against you or pull away. He could feel you lapping up the cum filling him from the inside, the warm and wet muscle teasing his soft walls. Having to endure this kind of stimulation right after you made him cum so many times was so cruel of you…! You really didn’t want to let him catch his breath, huh? And damn that skilled tongue of yours, teasing him so deliciously, making him arch his back and blush.

It took no time until you wrung another orgasm out of him. His high came crashing down so abruptly and quick, it was almost embarrassing, he was just still so sensitive from getting fucked stupid. Now his insides were tingling with residual pleasure again, fresh slick running between his thighs. A sharp cry escaped him once you pulled back, his hands now clenching the sheets as the last shudders coursed through him. “Nghh.. y-you can’t just… ahhNhGg ♥︎♡♡ do that r-right after, ah-ahHh..?! after s-stuffing me full and having your way with me…!!”

Look at him, he was pouting now, complaining when you both knew how much he enjoyed being overstimulated. With that being said, you kissed him deeply, making him taste your cum. He pulled a light grimace, but you saw how his adams apple bobbed as he swallowed everything you gave him. “Quite obedient for such a fierce expression.” You hummed much to his annoyance, before flipping him onto his stomach, hands roaming down to his hips, digging into his skin, “ready for another round?”

He glanced at you over his shoulder, his expression a mix of disbelief and reluctant arousal. A shrill yelp slipped past his tightly shut lips when you bottomed out in one thrust, stretching him out on your cock once more. The feeling of you nestled so deep inside him almost pushed him over the edge yet again, and he whined out a weak protest, “Ahhh-hNghh, n-not againnn ♡♥︎ mmhHmm, a break, m’need a breaAak~”

You only smirked to yourself and snapped your hips against his even harder, causing him to cry out at how good it was. He grinned sheepishly, a dumb, stupid expression, before he scoffed at you, “pervert… nghh♡ w-what was the damn point…? Hngh-haaaAHh~~ licking me clean only to defile me right after~ ♥︎”

You reach for the intercom, deciding you've waited long enough. “Send Mr. Kim in. Now.” You tell your receptionist, Gael. Your voice doesn’t rise. It doesn’t need to. It carries something colder, and when you release the button, you lean back in your chair, exhaling through your nose as you roll the tension from your shoulders. There’s a flicker of anticipation threading through the irritation now, something darker, steadier— like the moment before a storm breaks.

The door opens quicker than expected. He doesn’t so much enter as stumble— just slightly, just enough for you to notice. Kim Taehyung. Always a little too careful, a little too eager to do everything right, and somehow still managing to trip over the edges of his own nerves. His glasses sit a little crooked on his nose, his tie not quite as straight as it was this morning, and there’s a flush high on his cheeks like he rushed here the second he was called.

It’s…endearing.

Dangerously so.

Your gaze drags over him slowly, taking in every detail the way a predator might study something small and soft and entirely within reach. He notices— it’s impossible not to, and the way his shoulders square is almost instinctive, like he’s trying to brace himself. “Y-You called for me?” he asks, voice gentle, just shy of steady.

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you let the silence stretch, let it wrap around him until he shifts where he stands, fingers tightening around the papers he’s still holding. He’s always been perceptive— too perceptive for his own good, and it doesn’t take long for him to read the room, to read you. His eyes flicker, just briefly, searching your expression, catching on the tension you haven’t quite hidden.

“…You’re upset,” he murmurs, softer now, like he’s stepping into something fragile.

That almost makes you smile.

You tilt your head slightly, resting your elbow against the arm of your chair, fingers brushing against your temple as you study him. “Am I?”

He swallows.

It’s subtle, but you see it; the way his throat moves, the way his posture shifts from professional to something far more familiar. The line between the two has always been thin with him. Too thin. “Yes,” he says after a moment, quieter now, but certain. “I can tell.”

Of course he can.

You lean forward then, the movement enough to pull his attention entirely, to make him straighten just a fraction more, like he’s waiting for instructions. The irritation from earlier hasn’t disappeared, it’s still there, simmering beneath your skin— but now it has direction, a focus.

Him.

“And what do you think you should do about that, Mr. Kim?” you ask, voice low and measured, carrying just enough weight to make his breath hitch.

The papers in his hands lower, forgotten.

For a second, he hesitates, not because he doesn’t understand, but because he does. Because he knows exactly what you’re asking, even if you haven’t said it outright. His lashes dip, his gaze falling somewhere just short of your eyes, like meeting them directly would be too much, too revealing. “I…” He exhales softly, steadying himself. “Whatever you need.”

Your lips curve, slow and sharp, something predatory settling into the edges of your expression as you watch him stand there, nervous, obedient, already leaning toward you without taking a single step.

A shark, circling.

You rise without hurry, the quiet click of your heels against the floor cutting through the room like a measured heartbeat. His eyes follow you the entire time, wide and uncertain. You don’t speak as you round the desk, not yet. You let the silence do the work, let it stretch and tighten until it wraps around his throat in a way your hands haven’t even touched yet.

He shifts when you get close, just slightly, just enough to betray him.

Cute.

Your hand lifts, fingers brushing the front of his tie, straightening it in a gesture that could almost be mistaken for something gentle. Almost. But then your grip tightens, slow and certain, and you tug him forward just enough to pull a soft, startled breath from his lips. “There you are,” you murmur, voice quieter now, but heavier.

Taehyung’s breath stutters, his hands hovering awkwardly at his sides, unsure where to land, what he’s allowed to do. His glasses slip just a fraction down his nose again, and he doesn’t fix them this time. He’s too focused on you. On the way you’re holding him. On the way you’re looking at him. Your eyes glazed, your lips red and plump.

“You always look at me like that when you’re upset,” he says softly, almost like he’s thinking out loud, like he can’t help himself.

Your thumb presses lightly against the knot of his tie, tilting his chin up just enough to make him meet your eyes fully. “And you always notice,” you reply.

A beat passes. “Lock the door.” You tell him, your voice harshened slighly.

He doesn’t hesitate.

He never does.

The moment you release his tie, he steps back, just enough to turn. There’s a faint click as the lock slides into place, a small, final sound that seems to echo louder than it should in the quiet.

When he turns back to you, something has shifted. He waiting, for you.

You don’t make him wait long. Crossing the space between you again, you take hold of his tie once more, firmer this time, guiding rather than pulling— though the line between the two blurs easily. He follows without resistance, steps faltering just slightly as you lead him backward toward the desk, toward the place where control always seems to settle most naturally in your hands.

The edge of the desk presses against the back of his thighs, stopping him. He inhales sharply but you don’t let go. Instead, you lean in, just enough for your presence to crowd his space, to make it impossible for him to focus on anything but you— the tension still lingering in your body, the quiet authority in your voice, the way your fingers tighten just slightly against the fabric at his throat.

“Sit,” you tell him, soft, but not optional.

And he does.

Of course he does.

He lowers himself onto the desk with a careful sort of obedience. His knees part just slightly without being told, like his body already understands the shape of what you want from him before you even have to say it. His gaze flickers up to yours again, searching, steady despite the flush creeping across his skin. “What do you want me to do?” he asks, barely above a whisper now.

And the way he says it, open, willing, yours to decide, feels like the final thread snapping into place. Your hand lifts, brushing lightly along his jaw, deceptively soft. “You’ll find out,” you murmur. But your grip on him never loosens.

Your fingers return to his tie, but this time there’s no pretense of straightening it. You slide the fabric loose with slow precision, tugging it free from the collar he had so neatly fixed this morning, unraveling him piece by piece while his breath catches in soft, uneven intervals.

He watches you. His eyes track every movement, every inch of silk slipping through your fingers. There’s a flicker of surprise when the tie comes free completely, when it no longer belongs to him but rests entirely in your grasp. Even now, even after all the times you’ve stood exactly like this, he still reacts like it’s new. Like it’s something that startles him in the best, most dangerous way.

His lips part slightly, a quiet inhale catching in his chest as you let the tie drag lightly across his shoulder, down his arm, teasing the moment out just a little longer. He swallows, throat bare now, more exposed than before, and the vulnerability of it settles over him in a way that makes his posture shift, makes his hands twitch like he doesn’t quite know what to do with them anymore.

“Hands,” you say softly.

He hesitates— only for a heartbeat.

Then he obeys. Lifting them, placing them where you want without needing to be guided, wrists settling against the edge of the desk as if he already knows what comes next. That’s the thing about Taehyung, he learns you quickly, memorizes you in ways that make this all too easy, too natural. And yet, the nervousness never fully leaves him. It lingers in the way his fingers curl slightly, in the way his gaze flickers between your hands and your face.

You step closer and the tie slides around his wrists, the fabric soft but the intention behind it anything but. You take your time, looping it once, twice— tight enough to hold, loose enough not to hurt. Controlled. Measured. Exactly the way you like it. His breath stutters when the knot pulls snug.

Your hand trails up from his wrists slowly, following the line of his arm until your fingers rest just beneath his chin, tilting his face up again so he has no choice but to look at you fully. He shifts slightly against the desk, testing the restraint without really trying to escape it, like he just needs to feel it there. The fabric holds. “What now?” he asks, voice quieter than before, threaded with anticipation that he doesn’t even try to hide.

You don't answer, instead your hands find the belt around his hips, tugging it off in one fell swoop, pushing his pants down with a hurriedness that could only come from the frustration of your work, and the ever growing need to be satisfied.

You decide to waste no time, your gaze lingers on him for a moment longer, drinking in the way he sits there, wrists bound in soft silk, chest rising and falling just a little too quickly, eyes fixed on you like you’re the only thing anchoring him in place. There’s something almost reverent in it, the way he waits, the way he offers himself to whatever you decide next.

So, you turn. You shift your body, the quiet sweep of your movement as you step away from him, giving him nothing but your back now. The distance isn’t far, barely an inch— if even that. You can feel his gaze on you, hear the sound of his heavy breaths as you circle your ass over his hard-on. His dick standing tall, needing little to no stimulation to have him keening.

"Oh fuck." He whispers, as you lift your skirt, your thin white panties now bold to his eyes. The tension in the room doesn’t loosen— it sharpens, stretches thinner, like a wire pulled taut between you.

"Sit on it." He says— whines. But you don't take kindly to his demands.

"Who are you to give me instructions, Mr.Kim." You tsk, halting your slow circles on him.

"I'm sorry." He's voice comes out in a hurry as if he's scared you'll stop completely.

“Good boys don’t rush,” you murmur. You tilt your head slightly, glancing back at him over your shoulder, your gaze catching his instantly. He looks… undone, in the smallest, most controlled ways. Lips parted, eyes a little unfocused, glasses still slightly crooked like he’s forgotten they exist. His hands remain exactly where you left them, even though the tension in his arms tells you he’s aware of every second they stay bound.

You lift slightly, fisting his thick cock in your hand, tapping the head against your clit before finally allowing yourself to sink down. The stretch of his cock is almost too overwhelming, your fingers finding purchase against the wood behind you. Knuckles turning white. Taehyung struggles a stuttering breathe, but he lets you move at your own pace.

"Feels so good." You hiss, moving your ass up and down his length, slowly, teasingly.

He grunts, "You're so tight." the rattle of his hands lifting slightly from the desk is drowned out by the smack of your skin against his. Taehyung was struggling against the restraints of the tie wrapped tightly around his wrists.

"Yeah?" You ask, faux innocence coating your words, dripping down and furthering your arousal.

"Y—Yeah." He stutters, his hips moving up slightly but you don't stop him, basking in the push of his cock deeper into you. "Best fucking pussy i've ever had,"

"Fuck." The word tumbles from your lips in a whine, but you don't give up your dominance. You don't even falter, only moving quicker smacking against his thighs fervently. "Fuck fuck fuck." The chant on your lips loud enough to alert the entire office. But You cared none, you owned the place for gods sake, if you wanted to fuck your assistant you were free to do so.

Taehyung's groans grew in tandem with your moaning, your voices mingling together. "I'm going to cum." His breathe came out in pants. You nod along words failing you as your end neared, every ounce of stress from earlier call washing away as the pleasure built then burst from your veins, traveling down your spine and into your toes, curling.

"Oh my fu—" The words fail you, a wail tumbling out as Taehyung follows suit, spilling deep inside of you with a whine.

You pull away from him, your gaze drifts to his hands, still bound at the edge of the desk, the tie slightly loosened from where it had been before, the fabric creased and warm from where it held him in place. You reach for it.

Your fingers move slower this time, careful as you begin to undo the knot, easing the fabric free inch by inch. The tension in his arms is still there, faint but present, like his body hasn’t quite caught up to the fact that he doesn’t have to hold himself so still anymore.

For a second, he doesn’t move.

His hands stay exactly where they were, like he’s waiting for permission even now, like the shape of your control still lingers in the space between you. His breathing is softer than before, but no less noticeable, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that hasn’t quite settled yet.

You glance up at him.

“Go on,” you murmur quietly.

That’s all it takes for his hands to finally shift, slowly at first, like he’s reacquainting himself with the freedom of it, fingers flexing as he lowers them from the desk. There’s a faint flush still lingering across his skin, his glasses still slightly crooked, his hair just a little more undone than when he first walked in.

His gaze lifts to yours again, searching

Like he always does after, like he needs to see you, to ground himself in something familiar again.

“You okay?” he asks, voice quiet, a little rough around the edges.

The question is gentle. “I’m fine,” you answer, softer than before.

"You?” He nods almost immediately.

“Yeah,” he says, a small breath of a laugh following it, lighter now. “Yeah, I’m… good.”

You smooth the tie in your hands absentmindedly before handing it back to him, your fingers brushing his for the briefest second as he takes it. The contact is different now— no longer charged in the same sharp way, but still carrying something beneath it. Familiarity. Something shared.

He looks down at the tie for a moment, then back at you, adjusting his glasses finally like he’s remembering himself piece by piece. “…you’re not mad anymore,” he says, almost like he’s confirming it to himself.

Your lips curve faintly. “No,” you reply. And it’s true. Whatever had been coiled tight in your chest before is gone now, unraveled somewhere in the space you carved out together, replaced with something steadier, quieter. His shoulders loosen at that, relief softening the edges of him in a way that feels… grounding.

You watch him for a second longer, taking in the way he settles, playing with his tie, working it over to loop it back around his neck. “Fix your tie, Mr. Kim,” you say, your tone brushing back toward something more familiar, more composed.

He smiles a small, soft, a little shy smile, as he nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

the living room buzzes with laughter and the clatter of dice as your friends settle in, but your attention keeps drifting to him.

he—your beautiful, obedient boy, your pretty house husband, the perfect display of submission and want—moves through the kitchen with practiced ease: refilling glasses, offering snacks, wiping crumbs from the counter with a gentle, almost absentminded grace that makes your chest tighten and your cock throb.

he’s meticulous, always making sure every glass is full, every snack perfectly arranged, every detail attended to just the way you love. the house sparkles under his care—pillows fluffed, candles lit, the faint scent of his favorite cookies wafting from the kitchen. he anticipates your needs, bringing you your favorite drink before you even ask, checking that you’re comfortable, giving you that sweet, adoring smile that says he lives to please you.

the curve of his ass as he bends over the table is a private invitation, a promise, making you shift in your seat and clench your fists to keep from dragging him into your lap right there.

every time he moves it’s for you, whether he knows it or not—every flick of his wrist, every dimpled smile, every time the hem of his shorts rides up, showing off the soft swell of his thighs and the barest hint of his pussy beneath the fabric.

he tucks stray hair behind his ear, cheeks pink, and his eyes dart to you—always checking, making sure you want for nothing, and always craving your attention.

you do notice—every detail, every shiver, every unconscious arch of his back that presses his ass out for you to admire.

his shirt clings to him just right, outlining the curve of his waist and the soft skin you want to mark up all over again, and you don’t miss how the fabric of his shorts hugs the fullness of his thighs, the hint of wetness darkening the inseam.

he’s so soft, so pretty, and when he fusses over napkins or straightens a stack of games, you know he’s doing it for your praise.

"do you need anything else, love?" he asks quietly, voice gentle and eager as he leans closer. the question is for you, but his eyes flick to your friends, as if hoping they, too, will notice just how attentive he is.

you grin, letting your hand brush his hip. "you're perfect, baby. keep showing off for me."

he blushes deeper, ducking his head as he returns to his tasks, a little smile tugging at his lips.

when he presses a kiss to your shoulder, his lips linger a second too long, and his fingers skim your waist as if asking you to claim him. sometimes he leans in so close you catch the faint sweetness of his skin, the unique scent of him and his soap of choice, and you wonder if your friends can see the flush on his cheeks, the evidence of your teeth on his neck just visible where his collar falls open.

later, as he passes you another drink, one of your friends jokes, "careful, he'll spoil you. wish mine took care of me like that."

you smirk, pulling him gently into your lap for a second. "maybe you should take notes."

he laughs, barely above a whisper, "i like taking care of you."

every time he glances at you, it’s a plea to be seen, to be shown off—your boy, your house husband, your needy little thing.

you adore how he blushes under your gaze, how he soaks up your praise, desperate to be recognized as yours, his ears burning pink when the others tease him about being the perfect host.

you want everyone to see how lucky you are, how much you crave him, how you’d bend him over the kitchen table or the back of the couch at any opportunity—spread him open, mouth on his pussy, tongue buried deep until he’s shaking, sobbing, begging, just to remind him—and everyone else—who he belongs to.

he’s yours. he wants the world to know it, and you’ll never tire of letting him put himself on display.

your friends sometimes complain, half-joking and half-envious, about the way you and he disappear together at gatherings or the not-so-innocent marks he tries to hide the next day.

they tease you for being insatiable, for how you can’t seem to keep your hands off him even when company’s over, for the way you look at him like you’re always moments from dragging him away.

sometimes you catch them rolling their eyes or making snide comments about your lack of self-restraint, but you only feel a surge of pride—why should you hide your desire, your luck, the way he’s yours in every way?

what a useless thing to do.

you want them to see, to know just how thoroughly you adore him, how much he craves your attention and how gladly he gives himself to you.

there’s a part of you that wants to show off, to let everyone witness the way he melts for you, the way you can make him blush and squirm with just a look or a whispered word.

their complaints only make you bolder, eager to prove that what you have with him is something worth envying, worth flaunting, a love and hunger so intense it can’t—and shouldn’t—be hidden.

you want them to imagine what it’s like when you pull him onto your lap and make him ride you, slow and deep, until he’s shaking and sobbing into your shoulder—how his pussy clenches around you, greedy for every inch, how you hold him open and watch him drip all over your cock, gasping as you fuck him through wave after wave of needy pleasure.

you want them to know how he begs for you to fill him up, how he whimpers for your tongue, your fingers, desperate for the stretch and the praise, all the filthy words that make him come undone.

you want them to imagine the nights where you bend him over the kitchen counter or pin him against the wall and fuck him hard without so much as a word, where his cries echo through the house, and you make sure every mark you leave is one he’ll wear with pride the next day.

you want your friends to see, to really understand, how you own him—how he’s yours to tease, yours to ruin, yours to show off however you please. he’s the perfect display, your favorite prize, and you’d let the world watch if it meant they’d know just how beautiful, how desperate, how absolutely wrecked he is for you every single night.

and you notice it—the way your friends shift in their seats, the way their eyes linger, the flush on their cheeks or the subtle bulge in their pants betraying just how much watching turns them on.

sometimes you catch them glancing away, embarrassed to be caught, but you know they’re imagining what it would be like to have him, to see him come undone for them the way he does for you.

their hands sometimes drift to their laps, knuckles pale as they try to discreetly adjust themselves, biting back groans. they're not sneaky with it at all. the gall, really.

you see the hunger in their eyes, the way their lips part, breaths shallow, as they witness the two of you together.

tonight, you can’t help yourself. you'd indulge it.

when the conversation grows loud and everyone is focused on the board, the urge becomes too strong to resist.

you slide your hand around his waist, fingers curling possessively against his soft skin, and tug him gently further into your lap, right there in front of your friends.

at first, he freezes—shocked, flustered, his breath catching as he processes the sudden intimacy.

you steady him with a firm hand on his hip, guiding him to straddle you.

his cheeks burn as your friends notice and laugh, egging you on with teasing whistles and catcalls, their playful jeers mixing with the nervous energy between you.

"damn, get a room!" someone jeers, but you just smirk and hold him tighter.

"nah, i like it here," you say, voice low but clear. "want everyone to see how pretty he is for me."

your hands wander boldly, squeezing his bare thighs as his shorts ride up, the muscles beneath your fingers tensing with each touch.

you press kisses to his neck, lips skimming over flushed skin, and you savor the faint, shivery whimper he lets out.

from where he straddles you, knees bracketing your hips, his back arches, chest rising and falling with fast, shallow breaths.

your friends can’t help but stare; his shirt has ridden up, exposing the soft curve of his waist, the marks you’ve left behind from earlier.

you shift him so he’s facing the room, to his surprise, straddling your lap with his back pressed tight to your chest, every inch of him on display for your friends.

you push his legs wide, planting your hands firmly on his inner thighs, keeping him open.

his shorts barely cover anything now, riding up so high that the soft skin of his inner thighs is completely exposed, and you let your friends catch every trembling breath, every flush across his cheeks.

"what're you doing?" he whines.

you whisper in his ear, low and teasing, letting everyone else hear: "let them look, baby. you're perfect like this."

with a slow, deliberate motion, you hook your thumbs into the waistband of his shorts and pull them down over his hips, letting them slide to mid-thigh.

the room falls silent as you expose him—soft, pretty, dripping for you—his thighs spread wide and nothing left to hide.

the flush on his face deepens, lips parted as he sucks in a shaky breath, eyes darting between your friends and your hand.

for a moment, you pause, letting the anticipation build, then you take his hand and guide it between his own thighs, urging him to spread himself open for the audience.

far from shrinking away in shame, instead, with trembling fingers, he obeys, like you knew he would, pulling himself wide, revealing his slick, needy entrance to everyone watching, his breath coming in fast, shuddering gasps as he shows off the most intimate part of himself.

the soft pink folds part easily under his fingers, glistening with arousal, the delicate rim fluttering each time he breathes or you whisper in his ear.

his entrance is flushed and swollen, slick with need, the inner walls pulsing and glossy in the light—so wet you can see the sheen of it catching on his knuckles.

it’s a beautiful, obscene sight: the way his hole clenches and relaxes, shiny and inviting, on full display for everyone in the room.

you keep a possessive arm wrapped around his waist, whispering filthy encouragement into his ear while your other hand joins his, rolling your thumb over the sensitive, wet seam and angling his hips so the room has a perfect view of how ready he is for you.

letting your friends witness every detail, you murmur, "show them how much you love this, baby. let them see you inside."

each time he spreads himself wider, exposing the flutter of his entrance and the shine of arousal, your pride grows.

every breath he takes is visible, chest fluttering, his body straining to stay still despite the attention.

your friends watch, rapt and silent, as you make a show of it—of how easily he gives in to you, how much he trusts you.

"look at him," you murmur to the room. “all mine. just for me to play with."

your fingers trace over the slickness between his legs, and you feel his whole body shiver in your arms.

nothing to hide—your pretty house husband, shuddering as you let your palm cup his heat, thumb circling, pressing just enough to make him choke on a gasp. it was this strange feeling that everyone was looking at him, which was uncomfortable.

perhaps because there were so many people whose attention were only on him. it rivaled nothing else. even deep breaths didn't clear his clogged chest, so he tried taking a big breath to expand his lungs. but there was still a sticky feeling as if his alveoli weren't fully expanding.

nothing comes out.

his head falls back against your shoulder, eyes fluttering, mouth open as you whisper, "that's it, let them see how perfect you are for me."

you can feel how wet he is for you, slick and needy, and you let your fingers slip lower, teasing at his entrance with slow, deliberate strokes.

the anticipation makes him tremble, thighs quivering as you slide one finger inside.

his walls flutter around you, every pulse a silent plea for more, and you relish the hungry, jealous looks you draw from the crowd.

he clings to your arm, hips rolling up to meet your hand, desperate for more, his breath coming in short, whimpering gasps, head dropping back against your shoulder as he surrenders to your touch.

you add a second finger, slowly stretching him open, feeling his body tense and then yield, the lewd, wet sound of your fingers working him echoing through the charged silence.

his rim clenches, fluttering at the intrusion, as you curl your fingers just right, searching for that sensitive spot inside.

your thumb circles his clit with teasing, featherlight strokes, coaxing out shivers and broken cries, his voice growing hoarse with need.

your onlookers watch, transfixed, as you work him open for everyone to see—the way his thighs quake, the way his body arches, the way he bites his lip to keep from begging aloud. unable to look away from the way he squirms and gasps, from the lewd, sounds filling the room, from the way you stretch him wide and make him beg, knowing they’re hard and aching just from watching.

you take pride in how you can make your crowd of friends so desperate, so jealous, so turned on they can barely sit still, all because he’s yours to ruin and flaunt. too bad for them.

the air is thick with the scent of his arousal, and you take pride in just how much he responds to you, even with watching eyes.

when you find it, his thighs shake, hips bucking uncontrollably as you press down just right, forcing a helpless cry from his lips, nails digging into your arm as you thrust into him, slow and deep, showing everyone the way he falls apart for you.

you can feel him squeezing around your fingers, his body fluttering as you keep up the relentless rhythm—fingers scissoring, stretching him wider, making it impossible for him to hide just how much he loves being filled and put on display.

wet, squelching sounds fill the room, obscene and shameless as you piston your fingers in and out, your palm pressed tight against his mound, grinding against his swollen clit. his attempt to steady his breathing was futile. scraping the inner walls recklessly and thrusting rapidly into the unsuspecting mucosa of his insides, had made him practically forget when to breathe.

then, cruelly, you pull your hand back just enough to let it hover over his pussy, letting the suspense build as he trembles in your lap.

you bring it down with a sharp, deliberate slap, the sound a wet crack that echoes through the room.

the sting makes him gasp, his whole body jolting—hips bucking, thighs quaking, his pussy clenching and gushing fresh slick as the sensation ripples through every nerve.

he whimpers, legs spreading wider without even thinking, as you rub your hand over the reddening skin, feeling the heat and the way he pulses against your palm.

you slap him again, harder this time, and watch as his pussy grows even slicker, the tender flesh flushed deep pink, glistening with arousal and shining in the light.

each smack sends fresh waves of pleasure and humiliation through his trembling body—he arches, moans, his entrance fluttering and leaking, coating your fingers as you tease him between slaps.

his abs tense, back arching, eyes squeezed shut as he rides out the sting and the praise, his body begging for more even as he squirms in your lap.

your friends watch, transfixed and silent, as you alternate between spanking and fondling, showing off how easily he melts for you, how much he loves the attention, the roughness, the ache.

his whimpers turn shameless, louder, as you murmur filthy praise in his ear and slap him again, letting everyone see the way he gushes for you—slick streaming out, his thighs shaking, desperate and needy, lost in the sensation.

the next slap lands perfectly, and this time his whole body jerks—his pussy tightening and fluttering around your fingers before he suddenly goes still, every muscle tensed.

the impact resonated and there’s a split second of breathlessness, before he lets out a broken moan as he gushes hard against you, his milky cum burst forth from him, release soaking your hand, the evidence of his pleasure on full display for everyone to see.

you hold him tight, whispering encouragement as he trembles and rides out the aftershocks, completely undone by the sting and the praise, lost in the bliss of being shown off and claimed so openly.

one of your friends finally breaks the tension, voice low and admiring: "god, he's really well trained, isn't he?"

another pipes up, laughing gently, "you've got him so obedient—look at how he just takes it, all pretty and eager."

someone else whistles, adding, "wish mine listened like that. he's perfect for you."

don’t you know it well.

their compliments wash over both of you, fueling your pride and making your house husband squirm in your lap, his face burning with a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure.

you catch his eye and grin, letting him bask in the praise. you should do this more often.

You let your fingers trace lower, catching the top of his rim every now and then pushing a finger in with his. You watch as his breath catches, a soft moan tumbling followed by a higher pitched keen. His body arches toward you, pressing into the touch, desperate for more.“I’ll do whatever you want,” he pants, voice hoarse with want, “just please please ngh i.. i need you already please please please.” His hands clutch the sheets tighter, knuckles white, he can feel his climax build up in the pit of his stomach, eyes lolling to the back of his head, mouth agape to let out a series of ah! ah! ah!'s. Just as his vision soars white you firmly grab his wrist, stopping his lewd moments. Satoru tenses, his body trembles violently, every nerve ending alive and screaming beneath your touch. His breath is ragged, stuttering a series of sharp pants and desperate whines, as he bucks into your hand like a wild thing caught just short of freedom. His eyes, glazed and pleading, lock onto yours with raw need, lips trembling as he lets out a whiny desperate whimper.

Slamming your book shut, you finally managed to shut him up. He stared at you with his eyebrows furrowed. When you rested your book on your nightstand and stood up to leave the room, he thought he had won. Won the war. Maybe you'd spend the night on the couch now instead of annoying him with your presence.

He let out a contented sigh, jumping into the bed, lying on his back. But before he could even think about falling asleep, the door opened again. He thought you'd just get a few clothes and leave. But when he didn't hear the door fall shuy, he opened his eyes hesitantly.

There you were, stomping back into the room. Grabbing a bag he had never seen before, watching you stuff all your clothes into it messily. You were used to his antics. Used to him calling you names, making you feel worthless, and making you feel stupid. But you were done. At your breaking point.

Naoya, as per usual, didn't take you seriously. Instead, he groaned in annoyance, closing his eyes again. When you were done, he told you to make sure to close the door properly behind you. You slammed it shut, hurrying out of the house, right into your car to wherever the wind would take you.

She would be back, he thought to himself. You always came crawling back to him. No, not this time. This time you wouldn't run back to him because you were finally tired of him. The thing is, you never crawled back to him because you had to, no. It was because you loved him. But you weren't sure you could continue loving him. Every sane woman in your life had told you to leave him multiple times, and you kept on making excuses for him.

He wasn't always an asshole. When you pinned him down and made sure to nail him into your sheets, he could behave. But you didn't want a man who'd only listen once you scrambled his brain.

Naoya started getting worried when he didn't hear anything from you the next day. No text telling him he hurt your feelings, no missed call, not even one of your friends was bashing him. Nothing. By the third day, he was spiralling. Asking himself if you were truly never going back to him. You had to, right? You loved him. He watched his phone, your contact, thumb hovering over the call button as he contemplated whether to call you or not. So he decided to call. He bet you were just sitting there, waiting for him to contact you. To his surprise, your phone was off. Where were you? Why did you have to turn your phone off? He was worried. Most of all, pissed.

And instead of looking for you, asking your friends where you were to grovel as a good husband would, he went out to drink some beer with his equally frustrating mates who only fueled his anger. His night was filled with ‘’women should know their place'’ here, and ‘’you have to get your female under control’’ there. A whole mess. By the time they stumbled out of the bar, he spotted your car nearby.

Without even thinking, he left his friends, rushed over, and started banging on the car window. Luckily, you were inside, rolling your eyes at the scene. Rolling down the window, you stared at him expectantly. Maybe he'd apologise. No, he's too proud to do such a thing.

Walking to the other side, he got into the passenger seat before you could even think about what he was doing, he was sitting next to you in the confined space of your car.

''What do you want? I told you I was done with you, didn't I?'' You exclaimed, rolling your window back up. Raising your eyebrows, you waited for him to respond to your question.

''Come on, don't be like this.'' He snickered leaning in to kiss you but you shoved him off of you with an eyeroll, looking at yourself in your little mirror, fixing your hair a little bit, telling him you had nothing to say to him and you were going to leave if he had nothing important to say.

''It seems like you're just wasting my time here.''

You were just about to step out of that car, leaving him there. You didn't care that it was your car. All you wanted was for him to leave you alone. ''No, no wait. Don't go.'' His hand reached out to hold you in place flinching as soon as he was met with your cold gaze staring at him. Knowing he wasn't allowed to just touch you whenever he desired to, he left his hand there taking a deep breath to calm his nerves and get ready to say what he wanted to tell you.

His eyes met yours. You weren't glaring at him anymore, instead frowning at his antics. And to be honest, you grew quite impatient. You had to wake up early tomorrow, and didn't need him as a silly distraction.

''I will ask you once. One time only. What do you want, Zenin?''

''Mommy...''

He mumbled with pleading eyes, staring right at you.

Putting two and two together, you started laughing before gripping his chin softly, all while smirking at him. And you know he had probably thought you'd crawl back to him. But the tables had fucking turned. ''So this is what it is, huh? Shit, I won't get rid of you that easily it seems.''

You tilted your head, nodding, motioning for him to get into the backseat and he complied immediately scrambling to get into your beloved backseat. Finally, you joined him without any words being exchanged and started kissing him while pulling him into your lap. His arms draped around your neck pulling you closer as you sucked at his tongue, unbuttoning his shirt before playing with his nipples, still puffy from the rough encounter he had faced a few days ago. When you punished him with nipple clamps. He whimpered into your mou lth before you pulled away momentarily.

"Do you have a strap?''

You nodded. Of course, you had one. You were the type of person who was prepared for every situation. ''Pull your pants down to your ankles.'' He nodded, desperate to feel you inside him, unbuttoning his pants to pull them down, his hard dick slapping against you. You stroked it a few times before propping yourself up, reaching into a bag and taking out a strap. Wearing it in the car was a struggle, and you had him get off you first, but you did it, lubing it up and helping him slide down on you.

He let out a choked whine the minute he reached the very end of your toy, grinding down on it slowly. He smiled down at you, that smug teasing grin plastered on his face as if he had you right where he wanted to have you. And you smacked him across the face making him smile even more.

''Don't look at me like that.'' You started thrusting up into him, starting slow and increasing in pace with every thrust, putting your hips to work while he slammed down on your length choking out whiny sobs.

''Look at you like wh-what?''

You smirked up at him, wrapping your hands around his neck, squeezing tightly. His eyes rolled back with tears streaming down his face as he smiled through the tears.

Fucking lunatic.

You started full on fucking him while using his neck as leverage now making him cry out in pleasure.

''Like I belong to you.'' You exclaimed pulling him into a kiss. His arms squeezed around you tightly, hiding his face in your chest as his body shuddered and twitched uncontrollably before he started panting and you felt him cumming against you like some whore. "Did you just-"

He pushed you back against the seat making you rest on your back as he started bouncing on your strap you roughly. "Mommy..." He whimpered quietly. It seemed like he had lost control of himself. And you loved seeing this sight of him.

When your hands landed on his waist again, you began thrusting up into him once again, drawing whines from him. Whines in a pitch you had never heard from him. ''Have I fucked you stupid already?'' You snickered, pulling him closer to lick the tears off his face. ''You're pathetic.'' You whispered, pressing soft kisses to his neck. A contrast between your bruising pace on his prostate. ‘’Just worthless. I don't know why I got married to you in the first place.’’ You meant every word. After all, he couldn't even fuck you right. He couldn't fuck you as a real man would. The only thing he was good for, was gagging on your strap, and looking pretty while taking it.

Taking all of you. All you were able to give him. And he had the audacity to complain about you?

''You're a bitch. A good-for-nothing slut.’’ You muttered in a sing-song voice, right into his skin, biting down on the collar of his neck. What did he do? He whined, throwing his head back, leaving you more access. ''You can't do anything right, can you?'' Chuckling, you ground right against his prostate. "You can't even stand your ground and stay away from me.''

And that was the simple truth. No matter how much he cursed you out, made you look stupid and swore you were worthless, deep down he knew. He knew he needed your strap.

-

“Yo, I’m coming over right now.”

“Like, right now?” You were just in the middle of cleaning up your desk with your antibacterial wipes and all the rest of the mess that had piled up from the start of the week - some uncleaned dishes, empty ramen cups, all of your clothes that were thrown on your chair, the small bin that was pretty full by now. You’d managed to neglect tidying and doing the house chores right up until the weekend when you really couldn’t ignore it for any longer.

“You’re being in my youtube video.” Beomgyu states matter-of-factly over the phone. You can hear his footsteps, the sounds of cars and the outside winds from his end, which means he quite literally was coming over to yours right this moment.

You tiredly sigh, pulling out another wipe from the packet with aggression, your phone on speaker. “Why do I need to be in it?”

“Your building’s the haunted one right?”

“Supposedly.”

“Thennnn it’s perfect! I’ll be there in ten.” He hangs up.

You close your eyes briefly and shake your head, one hand on your hip, then, opening your eyes to survey your half cleaned room. Dealing with beomgyu, however, was an even greater effort than cleaning your entire messy student accom times ten.

He’s not exactly your best friend. That title belongs to taehyun. Taehyun is unfortunately both of your best friends which is how you met beomgyu. And even more unfortunately, taehyun is traitorously abroad for the semester at the moment, so now beomgyu has redirected his full energy and badgering onto you, because ‘you’re the next best thing’ apparently, beomgyu’s words.

You won’t lie, you were apprehensive of beomgyu at first, didnt quite like him. Taehyun was your childhood best friend. It was only ever you and him from the beginning. Taehyun has always just got you. He thought in the same way as you, a mutual understanding ever since you were four, when everyone else on the playground was wailing over the smallest of things like getting their knee a little scraped and missing their mothers after forty minutes of being in school, both of you unimpressed by the dramatics of the other four year olds, and you’ve been stuck together like gorilla glue ever since. He’s been with you from primary school, the same secondary school, all the way up until you were applying to university together. You’d ended up naturally picking the same one, the same subject, both of you inevitably stem based people.

You’d falsely assumed it would simply be just the two of you once more, navigating adulthood together. But, when you started university, he suddenly got super close to this one dude named Choi beomgyu. To be honest, you had hated his guts. Whenever taehyun talked about him, mentioned him in passing, you gained an overwhelming amount of ugly jealousy at hearing his name.

“Oh, beomgyu this, oh, beomgyu that.”

“Oh, I can’t, I already made plans with beomgyu.”

“Oh, beomgyu says blah, blah, blah.

“Oh, I’m too busy making out with beomgyu that day.”

Alright, he didn’t exactly say that last part, but he may as well have. It was like he was in love with him or some shit. They even had their own inside jokes that you weren’t a part of already.

Now, you’re a pretty good people reader, priding yourself in being a good judge of character. You like to think you can mostly already tell whether you’ll like someone’s vibe and whether they were cool and nice and genuine from first meeting them. In your head, you’d already made up in your mind that this choi beomgyu guy was some slimy bitch trying to steal your close friend away from you. You just thought taehyun had terrible perception and couldn’t see how much of a snake this beomgyu guy really was. So, you were already adamant that once you met him, it’d only validate all the feelings you had towards him and then, you could tell taehyun he was evil and not to be trusted and taehyun would realise you were right and stop being friends with him. Balance restored.

Because, well, you were terrified. Terrified that you could lose the sole person who had always been there and understood you without translation, afraid of having to go through the rest of this scary adult life with that being taken away. This had never happened before. Beomgyu threatened all of that for you.

And then, you finally actually met beomgyu on the campus cafe one day. And you do admit, it was hard not to like him even when you absolutely didn’t want to at all. He wasn’t slimy or snakey or fake. He was alas, very likeable. Annoyingly, infuriatingly so. Warm and friendly and all unadulterated smiles.

He was genuinely delighted to meet you, like you were some kind of micro celebrity. “So you’re the famous childhood friend. Taehyun talks about you all the time. It’s so nice to finally meet you!” Beomgyu's eyes were shining.

You soon realised it was all one sided, all the territorial resentment was of your own invention, that he wasn’t trying to steal your best friend away from you, that taehyun wouldn’t replace you, and that you were being totally, completely childish. Beomgyu always greeted you kindly if he ever saw you on campus alone, he went out of his way to become friends with you too, whenever it was the three of you, he made sure to never exclude you, having this habit of always checking your expression mid conversation to see what you were thinking, and he remembered the smallest things you mentioned only once in passing. He soon wormed his way into your life too. You got it. You guess you liked this choi beomgyu guy as well now.

You concluded it wasn’t the case of taehyun being taken away from you, but that there was now one more person who loved taehyun unconditionally just as much as you did. And you definitely wouldn’t hate that person, because taehyun deserves an abundance of love. ‘Sharing is caring’ or whatever shit they say. In short, you got over it. You embraced choi beomgyu in your life too. But there’s still a limit to just how much choi beomgyu doses you can take in one go.

There’s loud banging on your door nine minutes later.

You open it and unsurprisingly, it’s beomgyu, a little breathless from the flight of stairs he had to go up, hair windswept and cheeks and nose slightly tinted pink from the cold, but he's clearly very excited. He breezes past you and throws his dirty backpack onto your desk, which you had just sanitised, and immediately starts pulling objects out of it, a tripod, a small camera, a ring light. Then, he pulls something else out of his bag with dramatic flair, some kind of obnoxious, glittery, pink box, holding it up proudly in front of you.

“Ouija board.” Beomgyu grins, breathing still heavy, wiggling his eyebrows.

Your gaze travels from the box to his face and back again. “And where’d you get that from?”

“I was at that shop on Croft Street.” He’s entirely pleased with himself.

You furrow your brows, trying to place what he’s talking about in your head, and then you nod. “Ohh,” you think you can picture it now, “the vintage antique place?”

Beomgyu hesitates for the tiniest second, rubbing at the back of his neck, gaze flicking away just briefly. “Erm, no. The one next to it.”

“There’s only the…-Wait, the sex shop??” Your voice jumps an octave. “What? I thought it closed down.”

Beomgyu shrugs, trying to maintaining his facade of confidence. “Well anyway, the lady, she gave it to me free with my purchase! Isn’t that so nice?”

“You bought something from there?”

He tilts his chin up in defence and puffs out his chest, expression shifting into a look of totally exaggerated dignity and defensiveness. “I can if I want to. I’m an adult. None of your business.”

Alright, fair. You shrug. “Why the hell would they be giving out ouija boards though? And why would you take it?”

“Beats me. But what’s free is free! Look how cool it looks!” He shoves it more into your face, beaming, waiting for you to agree too.

To be honest, nothing beomgyu does can surprise you that much anymore.

You let out the biggest melancholic sigh. “I miss taehyun.”

“So do I. At least he’d be giving me way better reactions than you are right now.” Beomgyu points a brow at you, disappointed with your lack of enthusiasm, but then his grin creeps back. “Anyway, this is going to be such a good video for my channel.”

Yes, his channel. A new interest of beomgyu’s, his most recent endeavour. He was now an aspiring youtuber. He'd already gained ten thousand subscribers actually, which he mentions a lot, but it was pretty impressive. People thought he was handsome, apparently, he also mentions that a lot. His goal though has been to get more followers and take the crown of the campus youtuber which currently resided to some other choi. Yeonjun, is his name you think. Truthfully, beomgyu is pretty good at making entertaining content, you've watched a few (all of them. You wouldn't tell him that though.) he was naturally so very hilarious and quick witted, you wondered how he managed to come up with such funny things to say at the right moment unscripted.

“What’s that gonna be?” You already had an inkling, you just wanted to hear it from his dumb mouth.

He’s pulling out his camera, setting it on the tripod and adjusting its height. “I’m holding a seance in your room. Okay the title,” he turns around to you, continuing excitedly with his hands in the air like he was presenting the headline right there. “We Contacted a Real Ghost in the Most HAUNTED Uni Accommodation Building. NOT clickbait. What d’you think?”

“It’s not actually haunted.” You snort.

“Didn’t some guy die like, years ago?” Beomgyu counters, “some fratboy going up the stairs drunk, slipped, and fell all the way down. Dead. That’s why everyone’s always scared to take the stairs after a night out.”

That is how the story goes. You’re pretty sure it’s fake. An urban legend recycled every year by the first years to scare each other. There’s no real news or evidence for it. “Yeah, but those are just rumours though.”

“Well, we’ll find out for sure today.” Beomgyu declares. “Now, do you have any candles?”

Both of you now sit cross-legged on your carpet floor with a circle of all the candles you own, the strong scents of all of them, mixing together and making your room have a strange amalgamation of smells that doesn’t really go well, the glittery pink ouija board placed in the middle of it and your room dimly lit, lights off, curtains drawn too for the aesthetic.

Beomgyu approves, satisfied and picks up the camera, shoving it into both of your faces. “Okay, make your most scared face. It’s for the thumbnail.” You comply, both of you making theatrical frightened faces, beomgyu fully committed to it, his features entirely contorting and making a silly face like he was crying, which you can’t help but giggle at a little.

He mounts the camera back onto the tripod, adjusting the lens with careful precision and then checks himself out, running a hand through his hair, content with how he looks. “Let us begin.” Beomgyu says in a weird, deep voice. He deviously smirks and presses play.

“Hey guys!” Beomgyu starts, switching into that slightly agitating content creator voice, his demeanour shifting. “Today we are investigating a real haunted university accommodation building! The legend goes that a student was walking up the stairs drunk after partying, slipped, fell all the way down and unfortunately died. Now they haunt the stairwell and all the students ever since…Today we’re here with one of the victims who has to endure all these hauntings on a daily basis. Tell me, how often is it that you hear strange noises and sounds? See figures?”

“Oh, uh, never.” You reply, staring blankly.

Beomgyu sighs exasperatedly at you, shoulders sagging, whispering. “You can’t just say that. This is content. Make some shit up!”

“Right, sorry.” You try again, clearing your throat and straightening your posture. “All the time. I’m so terrified.” You say gravely into the camera with widened eyes. “I can never fall asleep. I can hear their footsteps and breathing outside my door every single night.” You lean closer to the camera with a crazed face.

“oohh that’s good,” beomgyu says, delighted by your performance, clapping. “You’re actually a better actor than taehyun.” Beomgyu slowly pans the camera across your room. “Guys, just look at this place,” he whispers, “This room is definitely haunted. Look how old and musty it is. Woahh.”

You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms. “It’s not musty…” You mutter bitterly, taking offence. You just spent a long while trying to clean it too.

After beomgyu is done with his talking and grand introduction, briefly reading the rules it came with before tossing it away carelessly, you both stare at the ouija board, placing both your fingers on the planchette.

“If we get possessed, make sure to like and subscribe! Oh, and comment down below right now in five, four, three, two, one!” Beomgyu then turns to face you. “I’ve never used an ouija board before. Have you?”

You shake your head. “No.”

“Remember when it was trending back in the day? My mum never let me. I missed out big time.” he says faux solemnly, shaking his head, “but I’m reclaiming what was denied to me,” You have no idea what he’s going on about. “Okay,” he begins theatrically. “Spirits of this building. If you are here, please give us a sign.”

For a moment, nothing happens. You tilt your head despite yourself, trying to listen out, if you can hear anything abnormal, anything out of the blue.

“Is anyone here with us?” Beomgyu asks hopefully.

More silence. It stretches for long enough. The planchette remains perfectly still and the red recording light from the camera is still naively blinking like it was hoping to catch something too. You raise a brow unimpressed, but knowing this would obviously happen. You feel ridiculous, this whole thing is. You sigh, ready to give up already, not sure why you agreed in the first place-

But then, you feel a force, moving the planchette, dragging it beneath your fingers. Beomgyu gasps. As do you. The small triangular piece glides and stops over two simple letters.

H

I

Beomgyu’s jaw drops. “Oh my god! Guys, there’s someone with us! Hello! Thank you for joining us. Who are we speaking to?” The planchette moves again, dragging both your fingers along with it.

C

H

A

D

It spells out. You blink. Beomgyu blinks.

“Chad…” beomgyu says slowly. “Woah. Nice to meet you, chad.”

“How did you pass away?” You ask, sceptical, furrowing your brows and leaning forwards to the board.

S

T

A

I

R

S

Beomgyu slaps a hand to his mouth. “Holy shit, guys! It’s true. This is chad the fratboy! He really did slip and fall going up the stairs oh my god! This is crazy! We’re speaking to a fratboy ghost!” Beomgyu’s eyes sparkle with excitement, looking into the camera.

It slides once again, something else supposedly pushing the planchette.

U

2

S

I

N

G

L

E

?

You stare at him flatly, warning, “Beomgyu.”

“What? I’m not doing it.” Beomgyu then laughs awkwardly. “That’s a pretty weird thing to ask, chad. Haha…”

No, it’s obviously beomgyu doing this for the views. You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously, untrusting, but he’s looking down at the board with those pure glittering eyes of his with genuine fascination and awe. It’s not the first time you’ve assumed the worst of him when he’s been anything but. Still, maybe he’s just a good actor.

Chad, the ‘ghost’ tugs the triangular piece and moves across letters for another time.

I

M

H

O

R

N

Y

…

You pull your hands back immediately with a scoff, getting up from the floor in sheer disgust. “That’s it. You’re absolutely moving it.” This whole thing was ridiculous. You don’t know why you almost even believed it for a split second. Damn that boy with his sparkly eyes that almost fooled you.

“I swear it’s not me!”

“It’s literally you.” You grab a pillow from your bed, throwing it at beomgyu. He’s definitely messing with you.

He collapses onto the floor, cackling, throwing the pillow back at you. “Why the hell would I deliberately move it to ‘I’m horny’ ?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because you’re a very strange, very weird person?”

All of your candle flames in the circle suddenly flicker violently, causing both of you to snap your head back and look at the scene of the abandoned seance. The planchette begins to move, but on its own, erratically.

I

D

I

O

T

S

It feels as though there’s an immediate gust of chilling, cold wind in your room, but your window is firmly closed shut. The candles go all out, vanishing. It is all pitch black.

You scramble blindly for your light switch near you, flipping it on, the sudden flood of brightness stinging your eyes but relieving. You tremble, genuinely frightened and creeped out by whatever just happened.

Beomgyu swallows slowly. “….okay see?” He raises his hands in surrender. “It was not me.”

You reach over and flip the board upside down, absolutely done with it. “Seance over. Goodbye, chad.”

“That was…so sick!” Beomgyu blurts out, eyes wide. “I can’t believe we got that on video!”

You bite your nails, unsure what to do, freaking out, trying to process. That was weird. Super weird. Beomgyu, in comparison, seems pretty fine about it, just shocked and very thrilled at the prospect of catching a real ghost on camera, probably thinking that he’s definitely going to go viral with this.

The ghost didn’t seem that particularly threatening, it was just a fratboy, and some ghosts don’t have to be evil. But still, you’re pretty spooked out. Even more so since you’ve never believed in the supernatural. It never made sense to you, no actual proof, no logic to it. But you’d just seen that board move by itself with your own eyes. And even though you’ve never believed in it, you still never loved the horror genre, never a fan. You remember the first time you ever watched a horror film with taehyun at the age of ten. Both of you were scared shitless, deciding to sleep together with the lights on all night in the same bed because neither of you wanted to be alone. And you didn’t really want to be alone in your room now, knowing there was some spirit floating around in your building. You don’t think you’d be able to sleep at all. There’s no taehyun. But asking beomgyu to stay would be too humiliating for you.

It seems beomgyu notices your expression though, studying and checking you carefully. That attentive, perceptive, annoying habit of his where he can tell what you are thinking. He softens at the sight of you. “You know,” beomgyu says slowly, thoughtfully, “I’m…pretty creeped out right now.”

You look at him, surprised. “You are?”

“Totally.” Beomgyu scratches his head. “So uh…is it alright if I stay the night with you? I don’t really wanna go back by myself.”

“Yeah,” You nod instantly, without question, alleviated, the reply coming out of your mouth far too quickly. You clear your throat, trying to salvage some kind of dignity, “I have an air mattress.”

Beomgyu presses his lips together, trying not to smile. You really are so similar to taehyun in certain ways.

You lie in bed, flat on your back, restless, looking up towards the ceiling, still scared and paranoid.

Beomgyu is lying on the air mattress that you had inflated. It’s been three hours now. You still can’t sleep. You’re grateful that beomgyu is in the same room as you but you can’t see him at all since he’s below you, your bed frame raised higher. You still feel slightly alone. You kind of want him on the same bed as you. It would be a lot more comforting. But, you definitely cannot ask that.

An hour passes of you contemplating whether to ask beomgyu but it’s way too embarrassing.

Another half an hour passes by painfully slow, still not being able to sleep and thinking whether you should just ask beomgyu. You huff. You’ll just have to do it. Nobody else is going to do it for you. You cannot continue lying here all night having an internal debate with yourself, you think you might go crazy. You’ll just have to swallow your pride and simply say something.

“Beomgyu.” You call out lowly.

There’s a faint shift from the floor. “Hm?” You hear his response coming down from below, his voice deep.

“Are you awake?”

“I wouldn’t have replied if I was asleep now, would I?”

You roll your eyes even in the dark. “Shut up.”

Beomgyu quietly chuckles. “What do you want?”

You brace yourself. You hate this. “Will you…will you…sleep on the bed with me?” Ew. You recoil and immediately consider wrapping yourself in your blanket and throwing yourself out the window.

There’s a pause. Then rustling as beomgyu gets up. “Okay.”

Surprisingly, he doesn’t make fun of you. But, it’s not like your scared behaviour is unreasonable. The ghost was real. Not the most intimidating, a weird one named Chad, but still. It was creepy. Especially since you had never believed in them before.

Beomgyu just quietly lifts the covers up and lays beside you once you scoot towards the edge near the wall, making space for him. Your bed isn’t the biggest, so his shoulders bump gently against yours. You feel his warm presence and body immediately, feeling better and less jumpy.

“Thanks,” you mumble, a little sheepishly.

Beomgyu shifts slightly beside you, getting comfortable under the covers. “It’s alright,” he whispers gently.

You manage to get the littlest of sleep, a sliver of sleep, but at least it was something. You wake up in the morning to the faint sound of your bathroom door opening and closing, beomgyu had just gone in, space beside you empty, you feel the absence of his body on your mattress instantly. It’s colder.

You yawn and stretch your limbs from how cramped you were last night, but you immediately sense something strange. You feel some kind of weird…weight between your legs. It must be something from your shelf that fell off onto your bed and made its way under your covers, or something. You reach down, grabbing to pick it up, but it doesn’t move. It’s attached to you almost. You’re still tired and drowsy, eyes still bleary. You don’t know what the hell is going on and why this weird feeling object won’t move. You sit up, still confused. You try to pull it again, harder. It’s somehow attached to your skin? With a frown and a growing sense of unease, you move the covers off you and lift the waistband of your pyjama bottoms. You think you see something.

WHAT

THE

HOLY FUCK?!

You scream out in pure terror at what you see. At the exact same time, beomgyu screams from the bathroom, high pitched and shrill-like. The both of you screaming simultaneously for a very, very prolonged time.

This isn’t real. This can’t be real. You’re definitely still dreaming. This is not real. It can’t be. There’s no way in hell this is real. It’s impossible!

Beomgyu slams the bathroom door open with a bang, running out. His face is pale, disbelieving, mortified. “MY DICK. IT’S…I-IT’S GONE!” He looks like he’s seen a ghost, but that was yesterday and this is far worse somehow.

“I HAVE A DICK!”

You stare at each other dumbfounded, eyes wide and mouths dropping to the floor.

“WHAT?!” Both of you say at the same time again.

“I woke up with a penis!” You tell him, gesturing downwards, seeing if any of this exchange of information would help and make this make sense.

“I went to go piss and…a-and there was nothing there! I-i I have a-a vagina!” Beomgyu’s voice cracks, he looks like he’s about to weep.

“Right.” You rub your temples, trying to digest any of this, inhaling deeply, seeing you had to step in as the calm one, “Okay. Okay. We have to think about this…logically.”

Beomgyu gapes at you like you’ve lost your mind, “there’s NOTHING logical about this! At all!” He lets out an anguished cry.

You pace around your room, trying to think hard. “What did we do? What have we done that’s different?”

“The ouija board…”

Oh, right. That is really the only thing both of you have done that is different. And if ghosts existed now, you’re not that surprised if any of this can happen too. This has to be connected to it. “Do you think Chad cursed us or some shit?”

Beomgyu also frowns, deep in thought with a pout. “Nah, it can’t be. Why would he do that to us? He seemed nice.”

“He called us idiots.”

“As a term of endearment!” Beomgyu defends passionately for some reason. “I really don’t think we did anything to anger him. Maybe because I got it from a sex shop, it’s like a sex ouija board. It’s...freaky? Freaky…magic? Maybe it’s not actually chad. Chad seemed pretty nice. Just a horny guy. But hey, he hasn’t been able to have sex in years.”

You groan and flop back onto your bed in a crisis. “Shit, man. What should we do?”

Beomgyu ignores you. He’s too busy clasping both his hands together, eyes shut and whispering hysterically near your window. “I have a dick I have a dick I have my dick back I have a dick. I have my dick back I have my dick back I have a dickihaveadickihave a dickihave a dick.”

You sit up slightly to watch him, eyebrow raised. “What the fuck are you doing?”

He shoots you a glare, “I’m manifesting my precious organ back,” then he returns back to his desperate affirmations, repeating the words so intensely like a mad man.

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“I say we call taehyun.” Beomgyu suggests, crazed, turning around to your already defeated form, laying spread out on the bed.

“Uh, why?” That sounds like a terrible idea.

He shrugs. “He’s good at magic tricks and all that magic shit. He’ll know what to do.”

“WHAT the fuck, no. He’s not going to know. I’m not asking him. He wouldn’t even know. We are not telling him any of this.”

“He might!”

You give beomgyu an incredulous look. “He does card tricks, bro. That shit’s not going to help.”

You knit your brows and grab your phone, frantically typing into the search bar different variations of your situation. Seeing it written out is beyond absurd and unsurprisingly, no matter how many ways you try to word it, there’s just nothing there. There’s no explanation and this has never happened to anyone else online ever.

From time to time you glance down at it, checking to see if it is still really there and not just both you and beomgyu experiencing some mass hallucination. It is always still there. Your anatomy is still switched.

Beomgyu also taught you how to piss standing up in the meantime, which was a lot harder than it looks to be honest.

The two of you sit on your bed in stunned silence in the aftermath of the discovery and shock, staring off, lost in doomed thought. Because, genuinely what were you supposed to do? What if this is permanent?

“Here.” You snap out of it, refusing to spiral, reaching into your drawer and pulling out one of your lacy, pink frilly panties, handing it to beomgyu.

Beomgyu raises a brow at you, staring at them like they’re going to blow up in his face.

You roll your eyes. “Oh my god, just take them. They’ll be more comfortable.”

He slowly reaches out and hesitantly takes them. Beomgyu’s entire face heats up, turning the colour of a ripe tomato, it’s almost impressive how quickly it happens. He clears his throat. “Do you want my boxers?”

You glance down at him and then back up. “The one’s you’re wearing?”

He nods.

You gag. “Eugh. No, that’s disgusting.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because you’re wearing them!”

He opens his mouth to argue but stops and sighs. “Ugh. Fine, i’ll get you new ones…”

Beomgyu rushes back to his place, running out with his hands covering in between his legs as if anyone would notice and quickly gets some boxers for you, returning swiftly. They’re much more comfortable and they fit better for your new organ at least, but were you supposed to just accept this now? No, you’re just adapting. You’ve always been an adaptable person. You just have to adapt to this situation for now, yes. It’s the best way to react.

Beomgyu comes back from using the bathroom, cheeks dusted pink. “Peeing is still super weird…” he mumbles.

He pulls up his jeans, tugging and wriggling them into place with a small frown, but from the way your underwear is resting on his hips, they’re still so visible, the lacey fabric being seen.

You get distracted by the sight. The way the soft pink fabric sits against his hips, delicate and out of place against his usual style. It does something weird to you. A flicker of something passes through your mind, uninviting, you sharply look away, swallowing. But, you form some kind of sick idea, gears turning in your brain. It’s not a good idea, you know it isn’t.

“Okay, I’m going to be honest. And you need to hear me out…” You start slowly, testing, cautious.

“What?” Beomgyu asks, curious, but very suspicious.

You shift awkwardly on the bed, trying to think of a way to say this out loud that sounds less insane than it currently does in your head.

You take a breath, hesitating. “I think…”

Beomgyu watches you with narrowed eyes, waiting for you to continue saying whatever it is you have to say.

“…We should fuck.”

There is a long silence where he just stares at you blankly as if he didn’t hear you right, then his face twists into absolute bafflement.

“Excuse me?! Are you mental?!” Beomgyu squawks.

You hold your hands up in defence at his reaction. “Not because I want to!”

His eyes widen. “That’s not much of a reassuring clarification!”

“I-i mean-not that I don’t want to—!”

“WHAT?”

Fuck. You grasp at straws, trying to defend yourself. It made sense in your head! “Maybe it will be reversed like that! You said it yourself, maybe this is like…freaky magic!”

“What if it makes it permanent?!” Beomgyu shoots back instantly, making a horrified expression at the thought.

You pause. It’s not a possibility you had considered. Your eyes flicker around your room in thought, falling down to the pink glittery board still on your carpet floor. “Wait, we can ask chad! He has to know something.”

You pull out the ouija board and the two of you impatiently set up everything for it, sitting crosslegged once again. You place both your fingers onto the planchette and ask for the frat ghost once more.

“Are you with us, chad?” Beomgyu asks.

There’s a few minutes of silence, finally, he appears.

Y

E

S

You exhale slowly through your nose. “Did you curse us, chad?”

N

A

H

“Then who did?” You turn to beomgyu’s face with an exasperated sigh. “Do you know how to reverse it?” The planchette drags slowly across the board, almost playfully if that were possible.

M

A

Y

B

E

It’s not entirely an answer. You and beomgyu exchange an irritated look, trying not lose your temper over this dead frat boy. “If we…” you clear your throat awkwardly, “fuck, could we possibly go back to normal?” It moves immediately over the letters this time, almost enthusiastically.

Y

E

S

You take your fingers off with resignation. “There’s our answer…”

The planchette suddenly starts moving on its own again, something chad clearly likes doing. Both of you flinch.

F

U

C

K

“Oh my god…I hate this chad guy.” You mutter.

Beomgyu folds his arms across his chest with a grimace. “I’m beginning to hate him too now.”

You fold the board up and shove it into one of your drawers on your desk, wanting it out of your sight. The room falls uncomfortably quiet and heavy. Beomgyu does not make eye contact with you as he fiddles with the sleeve of his hoodie. You can tell he’s thinking about it though and you’re thinking about it more too. You bite your nails, turning to look at beomgyu, at the soft pink sitting across his cheeks, at the strips of lace still visible above the waistband of his jeans. Honestly, you are curious. And apparently it will work if you both do it so…it’s worth a try. There’s nothing else you can do. This seems logical to you, or as logical as it can get in this situation.

“I’ve lowkey always wondered what it would be like to have a dick.” You cut through the silence.

Beomgyu finally looks up at you, scandalised.

“What? I have.” You shrug. “Come on,” you continue, sitting up straighter. “You’ve never been curious to what it feels like? What sex feels like from the other side?”

He looks deeply conflicted. “This is the weirdest shit…” beomgyu murmurs.

“Well, yes, but no one has ever had this opportunity before.”

Beomgyu chews the inside of his cheek as he contemplates. You leave him to it. Because, whilst you are sort of strangely game to this, you know beomgyu is not. It’s his call.

You wait for a while to see what beomgyu will decide as he still chews the inside of his cheek, staring down at his lap. Then finally, he gives a tiny, nervous nod. “Fuck it. Let’s just do it. Let’s have sex,” he’s looking at you now with a strange mix of embarrassment and determination.

“Okay,” you reply, exhaling a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. You sit up a bit straighter, like that might make you seem more composed than you feel. “Okay.”

Beomgyu nods again, slower this time. “Okay,” he echoes, though it sounds less confident.

“Maybe we should…kiss?” You suggest, wincing almost.

“Why?”

“To…get us going?” you offer, even less certain now, your voice trailing slightly at the end. You clear your throat.

“Oh, uh, okay.”

“Okay.”

The two of you move onto the bed awkwardly, sitting opposite one another on top of the duvet. And suddenly everything feels much stranger and worse. Because it was one thing when it was all hypothetical, but now, actually sitting here, knees nearly touching, looking at each other like this and so close, is different. You don’t think either of you have ever really looked at each other like this before. You’ve never looked at beomgyu this up close and so intimately before, close enough to see the pretty mole near his mouth. The pair of you sit there for a few seconds in unbearable silence doing absolutely nothing, both of you too scared to actually start anything.

You eventually make a move first, mostly because if you do not, you think the two of you might actually stay frozen here forever. Your hand lifts awkwardly to his heated cheek, fingers brushing lightly against his skin. Beomgyu goes very still. You stare down at his lips and he does the same, nervously wetting them and then swallowing.

Awkwardly, hesitantly, you press your lips with his, brief, testing. Your lips barely brush before both of you pull back a little too quickly, recoiling. You try to kiss again before you can overthink it. It is so awkward, obviously, in the way that comes with clearly crossing a line between the both of you. But his lips are soft, very soft, perfectly soft. Yet, it’s not that surprising, they’d always seemed like it whenever you’d watched beomgyu’s lips move in a pout when he talked passionately or argued back about something, fascinated by it. His lips had an annoyingly pretty shape to them.

Gradually, some of the awkwardness thins out, dissolving and melting somewhere between some kisses and the next kisses. Until you’re not really thinking about it anymore, starting to get a little lost in beomgyu’s soft lips, your mouth caught between kissing his plush bottom lip, deeper, becoming much easier. Now, you’re making out with Choi beomgyu. Making out with your best friend’s other best friend. Never would you have thought this would happen, but maybe kissing beomgyu wasn’t the weirdest thing right now. Seriously, how did the most unlikely events manage to happen to you in the span of less than twenty four hours?

It’s getting to the both of you now, all the messy kissing, your faces tilting and moving in opposite directions continuously as you move your lips against each other, both of you kiss-drugged. It’s certainly getting you worked up, increasingly harder to think through, more fervent, your hands are in his hair, beomgyu is pulling you in closer by the back of your neck, then his hands go to your waist, gripping. You can feel the warmth of his breath between every kiss and the way he exhales shakily whenever you kiss him with more intensity. Making out with beomgyu is surprisingly very, very pleasant.

And when your mouth drifts from his lips, down to his jaw, brushing softly against the side of his neck, you feel him shiver. You start kissing his neck instead, sucking, leaving sloppy open mouthed kisses, beomgyu tips his head back, very into it, all of it going to his pretty little head, letting out little whimpers as you suck more and more, kissing the same sensitive spots on his pretty neck over and over.

His fogged up brain allows you unbutton his jeans, unzipping them and letting you put your hand down them, slightly, slowly rubbing at his pussy through the lace underwear he's wearing, still focused on completely attacking his neck too. The effect is immediate, beomgyu positively squirms and lets out a shy little noise, grabbing to hold onto you more, hiding his face in your shoulder as he continues to whimper shakily the more you rub his folds through the panties. It doesn't take long at all until you can feel the material completely soaked, even catching on your fingers.

You pull away to tug beomgyu's jeans completely off him, leaving him only in your pink panties and his grey hoodie. The second he realises how exposed he is, he shuts his legs closed, his entire face completely red, his neck and ears too.

"Are you gonna let me see? Please?" You ask and tilt your head, cooing softly at how embarrassed beomgyu is. "I'm sure it's pretty." That doesn't really help, beomgyu just lets out an annoyed whine at you and his face somehow becomes even more red.

You place your hands onto his milky, smooth thighs instead, moving back and forth over them. "Come onn, gyu. I'll play with your pussy right. I’m the one who’ll know better. Don't you wanna know what it feels like? Your vagina needs me. She's drenched. She wants me." You can't help but burst out laughing.

"Oh, shut up.” Beomgyu rolls his eyes despite how embarrassed he is, voice going all high and whiny, playfully kicking you. But after a moment, he quietly speaks up, “f-fine…touch me.” He brings his hands to his face to hide.

“You’re okay with it?”

Beomgyu nods slowly, still hiding his face. “Feels like I-i need it, need something…” he mumbles quietly, confused. It’s so cute.

“Okay,” you gently part beomgyu’s legs, he covers his face even more in his hands at this, slightly closing his legs on instinct but you push them wider. And you’re right, he’s completely soaked your panties, they’re so wet that you can see the outline of his folds through them, they’re basically transparent now.

You suck a breath at the sight, desperate to see fully. You push the cloth to the side, beomgyu’s newly attained pussy on display and you’re almost in awe, because it’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen, with delicate folds and a small clit peeking out from under it’s hood. It’s glistening, almost shining with slick too. You can’t take your eyes off beomgyu’s pussy. You swallow hard, mouth watering like you’ve just stepped into a clearing with a beautiful waterfall in a forest. It’s so pretty just like the rest of him.

“So perfect…” You gently trace his pussy lips with your fingers, grazing the entrance and then circling his clit but not touching it directly. Beomgyu takes in a breath, trembling at the light touching, horrified with shame, trying and failing not to react so strongly. He feels a throb inside, at the bottom of his tummy, some kind of itch he knows he himself can’t scratch, he feels this overwhelming kind of feeling, needing it to be taken care of. He peeks just to look a little at you through his fingers, stomach heaving erratically, his body reacting so needily.

You watch him as he does this. “Are you going to keep hiding?”

“It’s embarrassing.” Beomgyu groans dramatically and drops his head back against the wall behind him.

“It’s not that embarrassing. Take your hands away.” He does actually take them away from his face with a grumble, unsure what to do with his hands now, keeping them balled up on the mattress.

You tug the panties off him. As much as they do look good on him, they were irritating you now. You wanted to see more of him, all of him. Once they’re finally off, you trace gently once more and beomgyu exasperatedly sighs.

“Do something more!” Beomgyu complains, bucking his pelvis into your hand, whining.

“Chill, dude. I’m just trying to get you used to the feeling of having a vagina. It could be too much.”

“Well I’m used to it now.” Beomgyu snaps back.

You sneer at him, mouth twitching. “Tch, you’re annoying as hell.”

“So are you.”

“I’m just helping you.”

“Helping me? We need to fuck to be normal again! It’s not like I want this.”

“I don’t know, seems like you want it.”

“I-i don’t.”

“Your pussy says different.” You lightly give it a slap and then rub the folds soothingly. Beomgyu yelps, wide eyed, shuddering, but it’s clear it arouses him. You see his hole clenching and unclenching at that.

You can’t help but grin a little. Mangled, startled mewls slipping out from beomgyu as you continue to lightly slap at his wet pussy over and over again until his clit is fully throbbing and his folds are so puffy and pink. He looks absolutely wrecked already, despite how little you have actually done. His cheeks are flushed a deep pink, chest rising and falling in uneven little breaths beneath the oversized hoodie, slipping off one shoulder and exposing the tank top he’s wearing underneath.

“Please. Need something in it. Please.” Beomgyu gasps, a singular tear falling slowly, elegantly down one of his cheeks. Maybe you are being a bit too harsh with the teasing. With your thumb, you brush the tear away looking up at beomgyu’s teary, simmering, gorgeous doe brown eyes, some of his lashes clumped with unshed tears. You feel almost sorry.

“Aww, sorry. Just can’t help but play with the pretty doll.”

“Y/nnnn.” Beomgyu whines out heavily at you, pleadingly, brows scrunching up frustratedly. So finally, you bring the pads of your fingers to circle his hole, dipping one finger slowly into him, moving the littlest in and out. Beomgyu lets out a soft whimper and when you’re bored of just one, you add a second finger inside him. It slides easily in with an audible squelch, beomgyu winces, embarrassed at sounds he didn’t think his body would produce. You carry on pumping your fingers in at a pleasant pace, watching beomgyu’s reactions intently, loving how sensitive and reactive and new he is to all of this. It’s a lot for him already. But you’re also curious to taste his magical pussy. So bad.

“Why’d you do that—ahhhh!”

You remove your fingers completely out of him in one go, grabbing under his thighs and shoving your face into him instead, taking in the scent of his sweet, magical pussy and then sticking your tongue flat out, licking a sudden stripe on his slit, lapping at the stickiness. It’s like honey. Beomgyu tastes so good, you want to eat and eat and lick until you physically can’t, until your teeth rots from how sweet and yummy and addictive he tastes.

You tongue fuck him too, twisting, trying to reach deep. Every time your tongue drags over him, his body jerks. You decide to pay attention to beomgyu’s currently neglected clit, flicking your tongue over and over rabidly. Beomgyu nearly jumps out of his skin at this, not anticipating the raw nerves there and it is so intense, more than anything he’s ever experienced.

You decide to wrap your entire lips around the bundle of nerves instead, harshly sucking until they’re even more swollen.

“O-oh my godd- !” Beomgyu cries, flustered, taking a sharp intake of breath, screwing his eyes shut at the overwhelming sensation, his hands immediately flying to cover his face yet again. You bring the two sticky fingers back, stuffing them back into beomgyu’s cunt, pistoning them in and out and continuing to suck on beomgyu’s overly sensitive clit. His full lips are parted in an ‘o’ shape, mouth agape, prettiest choked up cries coming out of them, brows knitted together, head reeling back as well as his eyes. Beomgyu is sopping, you feel the new wave of slick every single time you push your fingers back in him. Every slight curl of your fingers making his thighs twitch. You also start a scissoring motion with the two fingers inside, spreading him open, making him squirm so much, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. There’s something almost helpless about him now.

Beomgyu shifts restlessly against the bed, shaking, clearly trying to deal with the strange, feeling building inside him. “I-I I think I’m gonna come!” You’re obsessed. You drag beomgyu down even more to eat him out at a closer, better angle, feasting on his pretty cunt, hungrily, mouth, tongue moving frantically, making your own muffled groans against his flesh that no doubt send vibrations through his already overwhelmed body, going out of his mind with need.

Beomgyu falls apart easily with a strangled cry, tears spilling over his red apple cheeks, fighting against your hold. His hips buck so much into your face as he orgasms, you think he nearly breaks your nose, but you don’t care, his legs trembling and clenching at the sides of your face, a slush of juices gushing and flooding out of his already drenched cunt. You’re genuinely mesmerised by it all, lapping all the juices up, slurping it all clean.

“T-too muchh!” Beomgyu shakes at the overstimulation, squealing and whining slightly painfully.

The sheer intensity of it leaves beomgyu breathless and in shock, utterly undone as he pants, and pants in a daze, red in the face, having never felt like that before. “Jesus fucking christ. People with vaginas have orgasms like this?”

You huff out a quiet laugh. “Yeah lol. Why? It’s much more different?”

Beomgyu nods, still panting, trying to breathe regularly. “Uh huh.”

You push your soaked fingers out of his cunt, tapping them together to watch the thick strings connect like webs.

You bring them to beomgyu’s pretty mouth. “Wanna taste your pretty pussy?” Beomgyu does so without a fight, wrapping his swollen, glossy and round lips to them, sucking your fingers dry, looking up at you with those pure sparkling eyes through his doll-like lashes, fluttering his eyelids like a slut. You don’t know if it’s purposeful.

It’s only now you notice the rush of blood to your dick. You’re hard as hell, you were too focused on beomgyu to think of anything else. But it feels even heavier, aching, straining. You need to fuck him so bad.

“Can we fuck?” You ask him.

“A-alright.” Beomgyu gulps, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

You rid yourself of your own clothes, taking ahold of your length in your hands, bringing yourself closer to beomgyu’s body. You close your eyes and inhale and exhale a number of times, trying to calm yourself, firstly, slapping the length lightly on his folds. Beomgyu seems to be in the same predicament, trying to calm himself down too, he’s staring down at the scene carefully, feeling his face heat up, cheeks burning.

You start to rub your cock on beomgyu’s cunt, rubbing the slitted tip from his entrance and up to his clit, focused more on the friction with the head and clit together. The tip now stuck with strings of beomgyu’s sweet slick, is much more sensitive than the rest of it and you shiver at the feeling, both you and beomgyu gasping at them rubbing and sliding slippery against each other.

“Okay…I’m gonna put it in. Is that okay?” You brace yourself, mentally preparing for it. Suddenly, you’re reminded that this is actually a one of a kind, very awkward situation to be in.

Beomgyu nods, bottom lip caught between his teeth, he’s bracing himself too. “Yeah, okay.”

Slowly, you bring the head of the cock to his wet, eager hole, pushing it in, stretching out the delicate ring of skin at the entrance until it pops completely in with a small, moist, squelching noise, both of you gutturally groaning out. You wait a little until attempting to push in the rest of the girth inside, inch by inch, watching his face attentively as you carefully ease the rest in. You stop once you do this, allowing him and you to get used to it.

“You okay?” You brush the strands of messy hair away from beomgyu’s eyes.

Beomgyu is stuffed. He nods, blushing so hard and face flushed so much he practically looks feverish, whole face somehow going even redder, which just shouldn’t be physically possible at this point at all.

It’s so warm and soft and slippery, the length being fully tucked inside.

“You can move.” Beomgyu breathes out.

So, apprehensively, you begin to test the waters. You pull all the way back out and then sheath it all the way back in the tight but softly delicate space, the searing friction at this causing you to shudder, lips parting at the feeling. “Oh…”

“Fffuu.” Beomgyu dulcetly whimpers too, it’s hard to get used to, stretched out so much, feeling everything side, every ridge of the length.

You begin a pace of leisurely rocking in and out of beomgyu’s cunt, watching the way the pretty pussy swallows your new dick whole, enveloping it each time, the motion of pushing and pulling creating more intense feelings for you.

“You’re taking it so well,” you murmur lowly and strained, trying not lose yourself in the pleasure of fucking slow into beomgyu’s goopy, gorgeous, spongey pussy.

He’s still quietly whimpering and you can practically see him trying to make sense of what he is feeling until his expression changes as he realises just how good it feels, allowing himself to relax and succumb to it.

It’s a new sensation. Being the one to fuck into rather than fucked into. You try to hit further, deeper inside beomgyu at a different angle, giving an experimental thrust. He instantly moans out loud and pretty to your ears, his toes curling.

“How does it feel, gyu?”

“Weird. I-i feel so full. Feels good.” Beomgyu barely squeaks out. His pouted lips stay parted, the prettiest little sounds spilling out every few seconds with each push in no matter how much he tries to hold them back, spreading his legs thoughtlessly even wider, both of his hands now coming to rest underneath his thighs.

“H-how does it feel for you?” Beomgyu looks up at you, curiously, thick eyelashes fluttering every time you move just right, voice trembling.

“Mm. Feels really good too.” You nod, knitting your brows, lips pressed together in concentration, gritting your teeth, fucking into his gummy walls, deeper, harder, staring down where your bodies connect, his ripe pussy just sucking you in, seeing how deep it goes every time, so greedy and hungry, growing more wet and sticky between you both.

You start to move more confidently without realising it, hips snapping into his with sticky sounds that follow. You’re sweating, it’s tiring, but it feels so good. It’s so hard to think about anything else anymore, it’s just alll consuming. You can see it on beomgyu’s pretty face too, so debauched, glistening with sweat too, mellifluously whining continuously.

“Fuck, y/nn!-ughhhgh!”

You lift one of beomgyu’s legs up by his dainty ankle, holding it straight against you, the new angle allowing you to bury yourself even deeper in his mystical cunt, against his cervix, sickeningly enjoying the way he cries out at this. The position is far more vulnerable for him and beomgyu looks so hot like this, flustered, body jolting and bouncing along with every ram into him, your dick splitting him open. You love it.

Beomgyu is so fucked out, eyes hooded in ecstasy, dumbly drooling, soft long hair messy and splayed, red, sweaty, button nose scrunched up, biting his glossed full lips raw, you can feel the one leg you have up, shaking, like a pretty fawn. He makes another helpless sound.

“Such a—mhmm-pretty girl…” Fucking beomgyu like this is getting to you, your brain is so pussydrunk, you’re just murmuring any shit as you pound beomgyu’s obscenely puffy, glistening pussy. It’s taking everything in you not to cum so soon.

Beomgyu whines with furrowed brows and a tremor. “I’m not a girl!”

“Come on. You already look like a—hahhh-girl, beomgyu. Maybe you should have a pussy all the time, keep you fucked all the time. I wouldn’t mind.” You meanly laugh.

Beomgyu cries, embarrassed, shaking his head, but he’s quite literally moaning out like a girl right now, so incredibly loud and high pitched and airy compared to his usual deep voice.

You grin suspiciously wide at him, and then you grab a hold of his other leg, folding them both over his chest to plow into him even more, your dick carving and curving up inside of him beyond deeper, hitting such a sweet spot for him, tearing a sudden, alarmed moan to rip out from beomgyu’s mouth.

“Look at you…you love this, beomgyu, being fucked and full like a girl. Don’t you?” You cruelly slap his mushy clit raw and red as you fuck him faster, barely holding off your orgasm. You’re not used to how quickly the sensation builds, immediate. You’re not going to last long. You quickly bring your thumb to beomgyu’s clit, rubbing over it fast, knowing it will do it for him. “You love having a pussy, don’t you?”

Beomgyu’s body arches, writhing, hands twisting in the sheets, full on sobbing, pretty tears streaming down his hot face. “I do, I do! Shitshit-ohhmygod!” Beomgyu completely convulses, spasming, eyes rolling to the back of his head, pussy fluttering clamping down so hard on your cock, long waves of pleasure completely crashing over him as you watch his pussy give out and squirt all over, juices surging, flowing, cascading out of him gorgeously. The sight of beomgyu squirting and clenching around you completely does it for you as you moan out too, cursing, giving one last, hard ram into his cunt until you feel yourself go over the edge too, his magical cunt making you cum so hard you genuinely see stars, filling beomgyu’s hole to the brim, overflowing, stuffed with your cum that you can see a white creamy ring around your dick.

You pull out with a shudder, watching the way your cum oozes and gloops out from his sensitive hole, his pussy completely wrecked. You don’t think his hole can give out anymore cum but it still slowly drips out of him like pearly beads, like pretty pearls from clam shells. You’re so entranced. “Holy fuck…”

Beomgyu completely melts into the sheets, drained, exhausted, boneless, dry tear stains on his pink cheeks. He’s looking up at you so dreamily, so content and satisfied from being fucked.

“I think that was like, the most intense orgasm I’ve had in my entire life. What the actual fuck.” Beomgyu states with very laboured breathing.

You can’t help but kiss his soft lips sweetly again and he kisses you back. “You genuinely did so good, beomgyu. I got a bit carried away, sorry.” You sheepishly tell him.

Beomgyu hides his face in his hands again, tips of his cute ears turning red. “It’s okay. I…liked it.” For a moment, both of you just pant, laying on the bed, but then beomgyu speaks up timidly. “If we go back to normal tomorrow, should we…fuck again?”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, before you’re grinning again. “Hell yeah,” having absolutely not had your fill of his pussy just yet. You figured you may as well if it will all disappear in the morning.

Now, you’re pushing beomgyu’s face into your pillow, his ass up in the air as you spread his pretty pussy apart, watching the way it’s still dripping, you push your thumb a little in the hole, watching it still twitch and clench, still wanting more, so greedy. Beomgyu’s head is tilted, one side of his cheek smooshed into the pillow to look at you from behind eagerly.

“Come onnnn.” He whines out brattily, so impatient.

You lightly spank his little ass before digging your nails into his hips and slamming your dick inside once more, pounding into his delicious, succulent, messy cunt once again as beomgyu cries out muffled underneath, drooling onto your pillow, rocking his hips like a whore to meet your thrusts, fucking your cum and his juices back in.

You don’t know how long you guys go at it for but you’re ripping multiple, countless orgasms out of beomgyu, pushing his delicate body into different positions like the pretty doll he is, spurting cum multiple times inside his pussy and all over his pretty body, because you may as well, it’s quite a once in a lifetime thing, savouring how it feels to fuck his cunt and every pretty noise that comes out of his mouth, continuing to fuck the daylights out of him.

Both of you wake up in the morning to your genitalia, thankfully, or perhaps unthankfully, indeed, back to normal. Chad the ghost was actually right.

Both of you go back to Croft Street to return the freaky ouija board to the sex shop beomgyu purchased it from, not wanting to deal with anymore paranormal activity, fine with what experience you have. But, when you stand in front of the sex shop with beomgyu, it has in fact, been closed for months now, boarded up and was definitely not open because you found out the owner had died a while back, hence why it was shut down. Neither of you try to think about that.

Instead, you sell it to the vintage antique place next door, someone else can deal with that. You also make sure not to reapply to that accommodation building next year and to go elsewhere. Beomgyu uploads the YouTube with the salvageable footage he had left and it goes viral. He becomes the number one famous campus youtuber like he wanted and gains many more subscribers. He doesn’t stop talking about it. Not once.

When taehyun finally returns back from his semester abroad, you and beomgyu decide to surprise him at the airport together, running to hug taehyun’s shocked face once he comes out of the arrivals terminal, he’s so touched he nearly cries, but he swears he didn’t even have tears in his eyes.

Now, all three of you are sitting in a cafe at the airport with drinks.

“I watched the video you guys did together. It was super good. It’s a funny skit. Love how you guys managed to make it look so real.” Taehyun says, watching you both.

“Haha. Thanks.” Beomgyu forces a laugh, slurping his milkshake.

“So you guys had some bonding time whilst I was gone then?” Taehyun asks, curiously.

Both you and beomgyu splutter on your straws. Beomgyu starts actually choking so much that you have to hit at his back. “Y-yeah…!” He manages eventually, eyes watering.

You rub at your neck. “You could say that.”

A/n: idk how this reads i didnt proof read I’m so sorry if everyone hates this. I wanted to be more creative 😭 it was very interesting to write smut with the reader having a dick since ive never written that before, I’ll admit I had a bit of difficulty trying to write in that pov 😭😭 upside down kiss - txt is absolutely the song for this fic 😼😼 I recommend. Babygirl let’s get freaky.

Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys 😭 if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷🌷! It’s incredibly discouraging and disappointing when fics have such little reblogs. At least send an anon in the inbox if you don’t want to rb, don’t just like. Feedback is always appreciated it makes writers want to actually write more :)