hi everyone! my name is rosy, and welcome to my little blog. here i will post fics mostly for stray kids.
age: 23, pronouns: she/her, skz biases: felix and jeongin but ot8 forever
other things i’m into: love and deepspace (i’m a caleb main), ateez, txt, emo trinity (iykyk), halsey, michael jackson, anime (code geass, bungou stray dogs, attack on titan, and demon slayer are my top favorites), resident evil, marvel, dc, arcane, dan and phil, and markiplier
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Paring₊˚ෆ⊹ Felix x f reader (established relationship)
summary₊˚ෆ⊹ Your boyfriend needs to get off his phone. Nothing but fluff :p (I love these photos lmao)
WC₊˚ෆ⊹ 630~
“Scuba.”
You’ve had enough. You let go of your phone in your hands letting it drop onto the bed before covering his mouth as you climb on top of him.
He had been messing with you all night saying random shit. You hated that stupid ass trend and he knew it. You felt him laughing under your hand and he grabs your wrists trying to pull you off. You tried holding back your laugh by biting your lip but it softly slips out anyway. he eventually pulls your hands away from his mouth. His eyes were wide and you could tell he was trying not to laugh at your sudden reaction.
“Say it one more time. I dare you.”
His lips went into a thin line and he closed his eyes trying not to laugh in your face. He struggled trying to contain his laugh before speaking. “Scuba-“
You quickly grabbed his phone before rolling off the bed and standing up as you sped to the door unlocking his phone. When he processed what you had in your hand he quickly got up chasing after you while laughing. “Yah! What are you doing?”
You got to one end of the couch in the living room with Felix on the other. You watched him in your peripheral vision as you went onto his settings and started setting a screen time for tik tok. You caught a glimpse of how much time he already had a mentally rolled your eyes.
“What are you doing?”
You saw him reach over the couch in an attempt to grab the phone but you quickly backed up, almost walking into the coffee table and laughed before continuing on his phone.
He quickly rushed around the couch and you tried to back away again, but he caught you in his arms holding you tightly to his chest so you couldn’t use your hands. You both laughed hard but you gasped feeling him leaning back so you guys would drop onto the couch.
“FELIX-“
You felt his legs go around yours to hold you tighter. “You wanna take my phone? Fine. But you're not putting a password on my screen time.”
You giggle softly at how serious he was about his screen time. His arms were tight around you. You drop his phone, giving up. He feels it in between you two and grabs it, tossing it on the floor quickly before flipping you over so your back is laying on the couch.
It was all very quick, you didn’t process what was going on until his lips started leaving kisses on your cheeks. Going lower to your neck and down to your collar. These were soft romantic kisses. Not lustful ones.
“Lix.”
You giggle trying to push him away. You glanced down at his phone he tossed on the floor that he completely didn’t care about right now before looking up hearing his low voice.
“You know I don’t mind if you have my phone right?”
Your lips turn into a soft smile watching him looking up at you as he kisses right in between your cleavage, his hands holding your waist down against the couch so you couldn’t move. You nodded, putting your arms around his shoulders, watching over his face admiring him. His freckles, his smile, his long blonde hair. It was kinda funny seeing him worry about you thinking he was hiding something in his phone.
“Yeah.”
He smiled, connecting eyes to yours as he came back up to kiss your lips. The first one was a peck, the second was at least a few seconds before he pulled away giving you one last peck.
“I love you.”
Your hands tangled in his hair, gripping his long blonde hair in the back of his head, pulling him down to kiss your lips again. You pull off whispering against his lips.
EPISODE 2: SHE SAID I WAS A VIRGIN ON VC, SO I RUINED HER HOLES UNTIL THE WHOLE FLOOR KNEW MY NAME!
this is smut, do not interact if under 18
you swore you’d never fuck a gamer virgin. he swore he’d never fold for a sanrio girl. then you found out you live two doors apart, and now you’re at each other’s dorms at 3 am to settle your “rivalry.”
pairing: gamer!yang jeongin x gamer!f!reader, fake enemies to lovers genre/tags: college au, smut with some plot ig, dumb gamer terminology, my shitty humor (as always), jeongin’s irrational fear of sanrio girls, virgin!jeongin, sexting on discord, mutual masturbation, fingering, oral (m + f receiving), overstimulation, unprotected s*x, switch!jeongin, spit kink?, multiple positions, idk what horny demon possessed me to make this tbh….. words: 13.2k
[ note. ] — it’s been a while since i put out a new fic (kinda) but i’m happy i’m finished w this ! *btw, this is the second installment of my nerd!skz series, check out my first one if you haven’t already but you don’t have to read it to know any context since they’re all stand alone fics. lmk what y’all think <3
Throughout his life, Jeongin has always considered himself as a late bloomer. Frustratingly late. Painfully late. He’s reached a point where all he wants to do is crawl under his desk and remain there for the rest of his life. And yeah, maybe that’s melodramatic, but it’s hard not to feel humiliated when your cock is hard more often than it isn’t, and the only action it’s getting is from your own goddamn hand.
Horny. Always horny. Distractingly horny. He could be sitting in lecture, pretending to take notes, then out of nowhere his brain would malfunction because some girl up in the third row bent over to pick up a pen. He could be doing his laundry, pulling out a wrinkled hoodie, and suddenly his dick would twitch like Pavlov’s dog at the thought of someone else wearing it. He could be gaming, headset on, grinding ranked like his life depended on it— and suddenly he’d lose focus because some streamer moaned in the background. The truth was ugly: Jeongin was perpetually ready to fuck, with no one willing to let him.
He didn’t get his first kiss until nineteen. Nineteen. Practically prehistoric in college standards. Meanwhile everybody he knew was damn near getting some on the daily— hookups after frat parties, sneaky links between classes, messy situationships that ended in groupchat rants. Jeongin would sit there in voice call, muted, pretending he wasn’t silently suffering while his right hand was his most loyal girlfriend. He lived in a permanent state of post nut clarity, except there was never any clarity, just the same depressing cycle of lust and disappointment.
Porn tabs served as his white noise. He swore he knew half of the top trending actors by name, could identify the production watermarks, and could quote videos line by line like they were classics. His feed bombarded him with recommendations of everything he wasn’t getting; step-this, roommate-that, the kind of wild shit he couldn’t imagine happening to him in ten lifetimes. His life wasn’t messy, it was monotonous.
Study, game, jerk off, repeat.
It wasn’t like he was a complete loser. He had friends, attended class, even received the occasional invite to a party. But when it came to women, something short-circuited. Talking to girls wasn’t impossible, but keeping them interested? Forget it. Somewhere between the awkward jokes, nervous laughs, and the way he hyper-fixated on whatever game he was currently playing, girls just… lost interest. He’d tried everything. Different cologne, new clothes, ditching the cheap graphic tees in favor of button-downs, even growing his hair out, because apparently girls were into that now. But it didn’t matter. He still got no pussy.
And what made it even worse? His roommate, Han Jisung, arguably one of the nerdiest, most socially inept guys Jeongin had ever met—blinked and somehow ended up in a relationship. And not just with some ordinary girl. No, Jisung bagged one of the hottest girls on campus. Jeongin didn’t know how it happened. Divine intervention? Blackmail? A pact with the devil? He didn’t care. He was salty.
So he was determined. If Jisung could do it then so could he.
Except dating apps were a hard no. His friends hounded him about Tinder, Bumble, even the lesser known apps but designed for “real connections”, but Jeongin refused. He wanted to meet someone the “normal” way, not through swiping like he was picking groceries. Except “normal” wasn’t cutting it. Normal left him alone in his room, headset denting his hair, grinding ranked games till the sun came up.
Gaming was the only place Jeongin almost felt like he wasn’t a total fuck-up. Behind the screen, he wasn’t the guy who still hadn’t gotten laid and couldn’t hold a girl’s attention longer than a lecture. Here, he was sharp, quick with insults, cocky when he was winning and ruthless when he was losing. It was the one place he had control— until you showed up.
One of his mutuals invited him in this late night Discord server, it wasn’t unusual, though he’ll rarely ever talk in them. He’d interact maybe once or twice a day but half the time the chat was muted. But when someone dropped a message saying ‘need one more for league’ he didn’t hesitate to join. The lobby loaded, four mics lit up green, someone coughed loudly into theirs. And the first words you ever said to him weren’t a hello— they were, “holy shit, how do you miss that? Are you blind?”
It should’ve rolled right off his back, but instead it ignited something in him. He fired back immediately, some petty remark laced with sarcasm, and that was it. That was the start. From then on, every match turned into a war zone. The endless infighting, name calling over voice chat, the sniping for trivial kill-steals in match, it should have been grating. Instead, it became addicting.
Because beneath all the shit-talk, Jeongin couldn’t get you off his mind no matter how hard he tried. There was something about the way your voice dipped when you got serious, the way you laughed out loud when you killed him in the game, and somehow managed to sound hotter than any girl he’d ever met in person. He’d never admit it though, not when you called him a “useless jungler” every other match, but with every cutting word out of your mouth, the more he’d wanted you.
And it killed him. Because he was still the late bloomer, the lonely virgin whose sex life consisted of incognito tabs and an increasingly overworked wrist. You were just another reminder of what he couldn’t have… except, maybe this time, he had a chance to change that.
+
Jeongin slumped back in his gaming chair with the overwhelming confidence of a man who definitely hadn’t just missed smite on dragon. The HP bar was gone, the pit was empty, and his jungle dignity has long since evaporated with the last chance of winning this match. The condensation from his third energy drink of the night slowly bled into his mousepad, but it wasn’t like he was paying much attention. He was too busy flaming the shit out of you.
“Jesus, kitty, do you even know what you’re doing, or are you just sightseeing?” He snapped, lips stained slightly blue from his gamer fuel of choice, some cursed flavor that tasted like artificial blueberry and pure regret. It was 1 am but he was fully awake, jittery from all the copious amounts of caffeine he consumed, eyes darting to the scoreboard as he anxiously ran a hand through his hair.
You scoffed so loud it boomed through his headset, practically rupturing his eardrums.
“Okay, Mr. Iron Elo, you wanna talk rotations when you haven’t warded once all game?” Your voice was venom wrapped in sugar, the kind of tone that would make most people want to mute their mic.
All except for Jeongin, of course.
Because everytime you insulted him, dragged him through the dirt, his cock stirred in his sweats like it had a personal vendetta. And he hated it. Hated how emasculating it was, sitting there rock hard over being called useless, virgin, dogshit at gaming. But he couldn’t stop. The sound of your taunting voice had wormed it’s way under his skin like some sick dopamine hit, maybe this was some demented kink he had and no one told him yet.
His mic crackled with frustration as he slammed the keyboard for the hundredth time that match. “I swear to fucking god, if you int one more dragon fight—” he grits through clenched teeth, sounding reminiscent of a raging little kid that just got his Roblox privileges revoked. “Are you on something, or are you just this bad at playing?”
“Bruh,” you shot back instantly, “I was literally 1v3 and still doing more than your busted ass jungle routes. You’re playing like someone trying to unlock the clown skin.”
Jeongin’s jaw tightens as his champion exploded on screen— again. “If you flash into tower one more time I’m throwing out my ps5 and flying to your house to break your keyboard.”
“Do it. At least then you’d be useful for once,” you laugh, egging him on further. “Maybe if you stopped speedrunning how to disappoint your team, we’d be winning.”
From across the room, Jisung groaned loudly, chucking a cheeto directly at Jeongin’s head, where it bounced off with a sad little puff. “Oh my god, can you two stop dry humping each other through voice chat for five minutes? Some of us are trying to watch Spy x Family in peace!”
Jeongin didn’t even flinch. “Suck it, Jisung.”
“Awww, is that your roommate?” You cut in sweetly, then dropping the innocent act altogether. “Tell him I said your mic sounds like poverty and you’re built like a hot pocket left in the microwave for too long.”
He stifled a laugh— barely. No way in hell was he giving you the satisfaction of knowing you’re actually funny.
“I’m built like a challenger-tier jungler, actually,” he quickly retorts, dodging another in-game gank. “Which is more than I can say for your support play. You miss more stuns than I miss serotonin.”
You hummed with mock sympathy. “Poor thing…no serotonin, no map awareness, no bitches.”
“You’re the definition of human repellent,” he seethed, tilting his head back in disbelief.
“And you act like someone who’s never touched a woman. Like, ever. Honestly? You give off 21-year-old virgin energy.”
That one landed like a critical hit— but his dick had a different reaction. Stiffening so suddenly it ached, straining for attention. It should’ve shut him up, humiliated him into silence, instead he doubled down.
“I could 1v1 you in real life and still come out on top,” he muttered, cheeks burning even though you couldn’t see him.
“Oh no, he’s mad now,” you cooed, voice dripping with faux concern. “Did I bruise your fragile little gamer ego, sweetheart? Poor thing probably hasn’t even been inside a Build-A-Bear, let alone a—”
“Okay,” Jeongin cuts you off, “first of all, Build-A-Bear is a respectable establishment. Second, you wouldn’t last a single round if we took this offline.”
“Oh? You threatening to fold me in real life?” You kept on with your teasing spree, your tone dropping even lower, dangerous in a way that made his stomach do backflips. “Be careful. You might find out I’m not just good with a mouse.”
Jeongin had to mute. Had to pace his room, hard as fuck, while his Sasuke pfp glowed on Discord next to your cutesy Hello Kitty avi. He’d called you “kitty” once as a joke and now it was like a loaded gun he kept firing at himself. Everytime he said it, you doubled down harder. Everytime you cooked him, his cock twitched like it wanted more. It was embarrassing. Degrading. Yet, he couldn’t get enough.
Jisung peeked over the top of his monitor with one eyebrow raised.“Yo, you good? You’re breathing like you just got jumped by three e-girls.”
“She’s insufferable,” Jeongin mumbled before yanking his headset back on, “and she’s not even good.”
Five seconds later though, he’s unmuted and back in the game like nothing even happened.
You both kept going at it for hours— you roasting him alive with every death on the kill feed, while he’s half arguing, half foaming at the mouth. When the match finally ended (a loss, because of course it was), neither of you wanted to call it a night just yet.
That’s when your phone dings, alerting you of a notification from Discord, a new message.
pussydemonslay3r: ggs u absolute trashcan my 60 year old grandma can play better than u
A smirk tugs at your lips, thumbs already flying.
kittykushqueen: like u were any better 💀 rematch or are u scared i’ll sit on ur face next round?
His hand jerked up immediately, adjusting his glasses to make sure he read that correctly.
“…What the fuck,” he muttered under his breath, instantly taken aback. He craned his neck to look over at Jisung’s gaming chair like someone might catch him reading it. He swore he felt it in his knees.
pussydemonslay3r: ur so annoying queue up again before i block and report u for emotional damage
kittykushqueen: oh nooo 😢 did the scary sanrio girl ruin ur kd and dick game in the same night?
Even the mods in the server were so done with both of your antics. One of them was some guy known as ‘The Wizard’, types in the chat:
THE_W1Z4RD: get a room or a private channel damn we tryna queue not third wheel your e-sex chats
You didn’t reply. Jeongin didn’t either.
Because you were already messaging each other privately. Staying up until 4 am like either of you didn’t have classes to go to in the morning.
+
The very next day, like clockwork, you’re both back on the game at 10 pm sharp. The lobby countdown hadn’t even finished ticking down, the map was still blurry on the loading screen, but you were already at each other’s throats, per usual.
“Can you please stop auto-pathing into tower range like it’s your safe space?” Jeongin grumbled. His tone carried the same sharp irritation he always seemed to reserve just for you, though his voice cracked slightly at the end. It hadn’t even been a full five minutes yet and already you had him tense in his chair, fingers white-knuckling his mouse. He shifted in his seat, one knee bouncing, headset pressing warm against his ears as he glanced at the minimap. He wanted to focus, but his attention kept flicking back to comms, waiting for your comeback.
You didn’t make him wait long.
“That’s rich coming from a guy who only picks jungle because he likes the feeling of being unreasonably blamed for everyone else’s bad decisions.”
Jeongin huffed, leaning forward, elbows planted on his desk. “That’s literally the point of jungle.”
“Yeah, and so is compensating for a lack of pussy.”
The words felt like a slap. Jeongin froze, blinking at the screen while his hand hovered over his keyboard. His mouth opened, then closed, as if his brain had to reboot before responding. Never in his life would he think he’d be getting owned by some random Discord girl with a Sanrio obsession of all things.
“…Are you done?” He muttered, trying to act bored, though the stiffness in his voice gave him away.
You giggled, a cruel, bubbling sound that made his stomach knot.“Not even close. You’re such a pussy, by the way. Bet you’ve never even been inside one.”
“I’ve had multiple opportunities, actually!” His voice raised in defense, though it sounded a lot more desperate than confident.
“Are the ‘multiple opportunities’ in the room with us?” You couldn’t even take him seriously, parroting his words in a singsong tone that sent you straight into a fit of cackles.
His cheeks flamed, hands jittering as he dragged his mouse too far across the desk, overshooting a gank. His champion whiffed and exploded in the kill feed. “Shut the hell up,” he hissed, “I don’t see you pulling anyone either, kitty.”
The nickname made your laughter cut short. “Stop calling me that.”
“What? Kitty?” He repeated, getting more arrogant now, leaning into the mic just to make sure it was loud in your headset. “Fits you perfectly. Cute, whiny, claws out all the time.”
Your whole body betrayed you the second those words landed, the heat crawling up your neck making your skin prickle. It was ridiculous, really— barely a minute ago he was mocking your rotations and calling your gameplay mid, the same cocky bite to his voice that always made you want to snap back twice as hard.
And now? Now you were blushing in front of your PC like some schoolgirl, fingers stiff on the keys while your mind spun over a dumb petname he probably didn’t even think twice about. You didn’t let it show, though. Your laugh had already come and gone, and you smoothed your voice back into something flatter, more casual, like his little jab hadn’t just turned you inside out. Because if there’s one thing worse than letting Jeongin rile you, it’s letting him know he actually got under your skin.
“You’re projecting. You’re the one whining.” You try your best to act all nonchalant, as if him calling you cute wasn’t the highlight of your entire night.
“Better whining than mauled by bronze mechanics,” he fired back, grabbing for his Monster can like he needed to steady himself. The carbonation fizzed out as he cracked it open too hard, foam spilling over his fingers and dripping onto his pants. He cursed under his breath and tried to shake his hand dry without pausing the match.
“Don’t get pissy just ‘cause I’ve got better map awareness and tits you’ll never see,” you purred, ulting the kill right out from under him. “Sounds like a skill issue. Maybe try playing with both hands next time, virgin.”
He rolled his eyes at that last comment, the fact you called him that more than his own name was becoming a constant reminder of his sad reality.
“You act like I’ve never seen tits before..”
“Stop the cap,” you spoke dryly, “I know you haven’t.”
“I have seen real tits,” he insisted, sitting up straighter, as if posture alone could make him more believable.
“Whose? Yours in the mirror? The anatomically correct ones in your biology textbook? Don’t say hentai. Don’t you dare say hentai.”
His throat worked around a dry swallow. “You’re not funny..”
“I’m hilarious,” you countered immediately, tone dripping with mock authority. “Say it. Call me mommy.”
He choked. Like, actually choked on his drink. You could hear it through his mic; the ragged cough, the muted thud of his knee colliding with his desk.
“…Excuse me?” He rasped, voice raw from his previous coughing fit.
“You heard me.” You state confidently, dragging out the syllables for even more dramatic effect. “I carried lane, saved your kill-streak, and emotionally dismantled you in under five minutes. Call me mommy.”
Jeongin stared at his screen, wide-eyed, body buzzing with an energy he didn’t know how to contain. His cock strained miserably in his sweatpants, and he squeezed his thighs together under the desk, wondering if uninstalling League could also uninstall this feeling of profound confusion and arousal.
“I’d rather rawdog a ranked climb in bronze for the rest of my life,” he muttered weakly.
You chuckled. “I know you say it in your sleep, don’t lie.”
He didn’t answer. He physically couldn’t. His brain was split between the flashing screen and the heat curling in his gut.
You hit tab, checking stats. His death count had mysteriously spiked during that exchange, his scoreline uglier than it had any right to be.“Poor baby Jeongie. Losing LP and composure.”
Jeongin groaned again, dragging both hands down his face, pressing the heels of his palms hard into his eyes. “God, you are the most infuriating person I’ve ever met.”
“And yet, you haven’t logged off once.”
He doesn’t respond, jaw clenched, throat too tight. His cursor hovered, chest rising and falling way too fast. He exhaled, dragged his hand across the desk, and finally gave in to the pull that’s been gnawing at him since last night.
He typed straight into your DMs, fingers twitching with something he didn’t want to name.
pussydemonslay3r: u talk all this shit online but irl i’d shut u up so fast
kittykushqueen: baby u wouldn’t shut me up. u’d ruin ur headset from how hard u’d be panting 😘
pussydemonslay3r: …
His stomach lurched as he sat there frozen, hand tightening around his mouse so hard it squeaked against the pad. He hated how fast his cock responded to a line of text, because it practically jumped like it had been waiting for you to type that. Thank god Jisung wasn’t here right now, otherwise he would’ve been royally fucked.
He tilted forward slightly, pressing his knees together as if that could hide how hard he was getting, but it only made it worse— he could feel the outline straining against his sweats. His face was hot, cheeks flushed in the glow of his monitor, but he refused to let you have the satisfaction of knowing he was already on the edge from a single fucking message.
kittykushqueen: gg btw even tho i carried ur loser ass all game
pussydemonslay3r: ur delusional i literally saved ur lane, again
kittykushqueen: lmao wtv just admit u wanna kiss me or smth i’ll wait
His throat went dry all over again, a soundless laugh leaving him. He shifts uncomfortably, dragging his palm slowly across the thigh of his joggers, hovering just close enough to relieve the pressure without fully giving in.
You were baiting him, and unfortunately, it was working.
pussydemonslay3r: u think i’m that easy? 💀
kittykushqueen: i know u’re that easy u’re one dm away from folding like a lawn chair
He stared at your message for a long second, his lip caught between his teeth. His cock pulsed, already sticky at the tip from the way he’d been grinding his thighs together. He could feel it throbbing everytime his heart raced. He should’ve stopped, should’ve shut his PC, but instead his fingers typed the dumbest thing they could.
pussydemonslay3r: prove it
He shouldn’t have said that, because his entire body went rigid the second he hit send. Minutes later, a ‘photo incoming’ bar crawled across his screen and his whole body stiffens.
One image attachment. No caption. No warning.
He clicked it and his mind went blank almost immediately.
It wasn’t full-on nudes per se, but it didn’t need to be. It was worse, if that’s somehow possible. You were splayed out on your bed, the glow of purple LED lights painting your skin, legs casually spread wide enough that the camera had captured the perfect angle. The thin tank top you wore barely covered anything, straps sliding off your shoulder. No bra. Just the faintest hint of your nipples pressing through the fabric, the curve of your thighs up front and center, and one hand resting suspiciously low below your waistband.
Your face wasn’t even visible, just your lips, parted like you’d been moaning into your phone before you took it. Your other hand held the camera steady.
Jeongin’s hands flew off his keyboard as if it burned him. He didn’t type. Didn’t blink. Just sat there, completely motionless, trying to process whether or not any of this was actually real. His eyes stayed glued to the screen, wide and unblinking, his breath coming out in short, shallow bursts through his nose. His headset was still on, but the game noise had turned to static in his ears. All he could hear was the pounding of his own pulse.
And maybe you knew the effect this would’ve had on him, because when he took too long to respond, two more notifications light up his screen.
kittykushqueen: don’t tell me u nutted already i barely even showed u anything lawl
He jolted, dragging one shaky hand down his face. His cock was rock solid now, pressing tight against the front of his sweats, precum sticking damp against the fabric. He swallowed hard, adjusting himself, his hand lingering at his crotch as he tried to steady his breathing enough to finally type back.
pussydemonslay3r is typing…
can’t even give me 5 secs jfc
But before he hit send, he snapped a picture. He didn’t even think. His body was on autopilot, every nerve in his system begging him to match what you’d just done. So he leaned back in his chair, one hand sliding under his waistband to wrap around himself. He palmed his cock slowly, biting back a groan when his fingers curled around the base. It didn’t take much to get fully hard; he already was. His sweatpants slipped low enough to reveal the flushed skin at the base, his fist loose around the shaft. His tip was wet, leaking across his thumb from the single pump he gave himself just to make it look right. His shirt had ridden up a little in the process, baring the strip of toned stomach that always made his mirror selfies look better than they should.
He takes the picture, his jaw clenched tight, hair messy from how many times he’d run his hand through it tonight. He stared at it for half a second then sent it.
[One attachment.]
No caption.
You opened it instantly.
kittykushqueen: oh u a freak for real look at u all hard just from a lil cleavage.. embarrassing
Usually, a snide little comment like that would’ve sent him over the edge, but right now he was too horny to care, and his hand squeezed tighter around his cock in reflex. His breath grew uneven, the t-shirt he wore stuck to his back with sweat. He tried to calm himself down, tried to think of a witty comeback before you could tell he was already unraveling. His thumb swiped over the sticky bead at his tip, spreading it down his shaft as he clumsily typed with his left hand.
pussydemonslay3r: ur one to talk u sent me a softcore thirst trap like it was ur steam pfp
His message blinked into the chat, but he was barely able to focus on it. His eyes kept flicking between his hand stroking himself slow, and the glow of your name lighting up when you started typing again.
kittykushqueen: softcore??? bitch my hand was in my panties
Jeongin’s practically hyperventilating. He shifted lower in his chair, sweatpants pulled to his thighs now, fist moving steadily along his cock. He hissed under his breath, the sound slipping out before he could stop it. The image of your fingers tucked under your waistband, actually touching yourself while baiting him in chat, made his hips jerk up into his palm.
pussydemonslay3r: not low enough bet u got soaked just from imagining me looking at it
The second he hit send, silence. No instant reply. No cackling emoji spam. Just the empty space of the chat window waiting for you.
He swallowed hard, the pause making him more frantic. He throbbed in his hand, while his other hovered over the keyboard, ready to type something else just to break the tension. The silence stretched long enough that he couldn’t keep still, thighs trembling uncontrollably.
Then your reply landed.
kittykushqueen: i am soaked. do u wanna see or are u gonna keep acting like a bitch in voice chat
Jeongin let out a shaky exhale, head slowly falling back against the seat. Twitching violently in his fist, precum dribbling down his knuckles. He closed his eyes for a second, taking in steady breathes, but it was useless. He was losing it.
This was hell and heaven all at once. This was everything he’d been missing, everything all those endless porn tabs had failed to give him. The connection, the sting of your voice in his ear, the way his name on your lips could make him lose all his composure.
He should’ve logged off, shut his PC down, taken a cold shower, and gone to sleep.
Instead, he types:
pussydemonslay3r: video prove it and if u moan my name i’ll win this next match with my dick out
The moment he pressed enter, he knew he’d fucked up. His hand grew tighter around his cock, pumping slow as if he was bracing himself for what’s to come.
Then the ‘recording’ notification popped up on your end.
His entire body tensed, staring at the screen, dick so unbearably hard he had to squeeze it to keep from groaning. He was already halfway gone, he’d probably burst on the spot just from one video alone.
The three dots danced once.
Stopped.
Started again.
His heartbeat thundered.
[Attachment: 1 video. No caption.]
Jeongin almost felt his airways close in on him. His fingers trembling on the mouse. For a moment he hesitated, staring at the file, sweat rolling down his temple. Then he clicked.
The video filled his screen.
Short. Filthy. And absolutely devastating.
You were still lying back on your bed, tank top pushed up now, exposing your chest— nipples hard, skin flushed, one hand between your legs, fingers slow and lazy as you circled your clit through soaking panties. You didn’t speak, but you moaned, soft and drawn out, ending on a shaky little sigh as your hips rolled into your own touch. The camera wavered slightly in your grip. At the very end, you breathed one word, barely audible:
“Jeongin..”
He snapped.
Every ounce of restraint shattered. His fist was working overtime, pumping harder, hips jerking up to meet the motion. He was leaking all over his knuckles, smearing it with every slick stroke. His thighs wouldn’t stop shaking under the desk, chair creaking with how hard he shifted against it, bucking shamelessly as he tried to stay quiet— but it was already too late. A shaky groan left him, desperate and hoarse, like he’d been holding it back all night. His vision blurred at the edges, all focus zeroed in on the video replaying on his screen.
pussydemonslay3r: fuck. ur voice say it again moan my name again while u touch that messy lil pussy
Your typing bubble popped up instantly.
kittykushqueen: mm i will if u stroke that pretty cock for me, baby i wanna hear how nasty u get when ur mic isn’t on push-to-talk
Jeongin’s chest heaved, his free hand wiping the sweat off his forehead, his grip pumping faster. He could barely manage to type anymore, every word shaking as he pressed on the keyboard harder than necessary.
pussydemonslay3r: hop on vc now
He yanked his headset back on, nearly tangling the cord in his panic, adjusting the mic with wobbly hands. His palms were damp, his cock still painfully hard and aching against his stomach. He fumbled with Discord settings, clicking through until the private voice channel opened. His chest rose and fell in fast, shallow bursts.
There was a moment of awkward silence. He could hear his own shaky breathing echo in his headset, the faint click of your mic on the other end.
Then your voice slid through, smug and breathy, thick with arousal. “So quiet now. Where’s all that shit talk, virgin boy?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Jeongin muttered— but his voice cracked halfway through it, and you giggled, soft but menacing, like you already knew how hard he was, how close he was, how wrecked he sounded.
“What’re you doing?” you cooed. “Jerking off to my voice? To my moans? Bet you’re leaking all over your hand like a good little loser.”
He let out a strangled sound, breathing hard. “Fucking- yes. Yes, I am. Happy?”
Your answering moan nearly made him cum right then and there. Quiet but lethal, your fingers clearly moving faster now on your end, the wet squelch of your pussy audible through the mic. The sound filled his ears, shameless and intimate, drowning out the game, his room, everything else.
“Put the mic closer,” he growled suddenly, the command tearing out of him before he could stop it.
“Say please.”
“Fuck you.”
“Then beg.”
He cursed under his breath. You could heat the creaky sound of his gaming chair as he shifted forward along with some faint rustling in the background, then his mic shifted.
And then you heard it— the wet drag of his fist stroking his cock, slow at first, then faster, messier. He groaned directly into the mic this time, not holding back. No filter. No push-to-talk.
Just Jeongin, raw and undone.
“Fucking ruined by you,” he muttered, voice low and broken. His breathing hitched with every stroke. “Always run your mouth like you’re not just as desperate. Bet your fingers aren’t even enough right now. You want me to fill you up so bad, don’t you?”
“God- yes,” you let out a high-pitched gasp, picking up your pace. “I want your cock so deep I can’t even talk shit anymore. Wanna be so full I forget what rank I am.”
Jeongin’s hips bucked harder against his hand, leaking all over his abs, eyes rolling to the back of his head as his rhythm sped.
“Say my name again,” he demanded, aching for more. “Say it like you did in the video.”
You whined his name in his ear, soft and dirty, completely destroying him. He grunted, increasing his stamina, thighs tensing as he imagined your mouth on him, your voice in his ear, your pussy clenching around him like that.
“I’m gonna cum,” he warned. “If you moan like that again, I’m- fuck- ’m gonna—”
“I’m gonna cum too,” you moaned, voice stuttering. “Cum for me, Jeongin. Be a good boy and make a mess.”
Those words did it for him. His body convulsed, mouth falling open as a helpless groan rips from his throat. Hot cum spilled across his fist and stomach, thick spurts painting his skin, his breath breaking into short, desperate gasps. His mic caught everything, every noise he couldn’t contain.
You bit your lip, still rubbing your clit, the wet slap of your fingers growing louder than before. His moans pushed you over the edge seconds later. You tipped hard, hips grinding against your hand, eyelids fluttering as you moaned his name again, louder, shameless, dragging it out until you broke apart completely in his ears.
The channel went quiet except for breathing. Your breaths, ragged and uneven. His, hoarse and heavy, chest heaving.
“…So we’re definitely not queuing again tonight,” Jeongin finally rasped.
You giggled, fucked-out and smug. “Too scared I’ll dominate you again?”
“I literally just came so hard I saw stars. You think I can aim after this?” He dragged his hand down his face, cum sticky across his skin.
You smiled lazily, voice warm but still teasing. “Damn. All that from a softcore thirst trap?”
He groaned, exhausted. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
You purred, “baby, I haven’t even turned the webcam on yet.”
+
The next night rolled around and Jeongin was right back where he swore he wouldn’t be. Hunched over at his scratched-up gaming desk, fingers already drumming against his glowing keyboard. His screen lit up with the Overwatch lobby countdown, and his stomach twisted with a mix of dread and anticipation. He’d promised himself a break after last night’s… incident. He’d promised he wouldn’t let you get to him again. And yet, here he was, 2:32 am, mic unmuted, cocky smirk plastered on his face to hide the fact that he was lowkey bracing for whatever was about to come out of your mouth this time.
You were in the lobby too, your username glowing in the party list, already trash talking in team chat before the game had even started. Jeongin adjusted his headset, took a swig of his Monster, and reminded himself that he hated you. Absolutely despised you. The messages, the video, the voice call— it hadn’t changed anything. You were still his sworn enemy. His rival. The insufferable little menace who spammed “gg ez” even when you lost. The only difference now was that everytime you called him a virgin loser, his dick leveled up before his pride did.
“Why the hell are you playing Ana again?” He groaned, exasperated as he flicked through hero selection. “You can’t aim for shit.”
Your voice quickly cut in, sugary-sweet and annoying as ever. “Suck my dick.”
Jeongin almost choked again, but swiftly caught himself.
“Yeah, from the back,” he says without missing a beat, face heating slightly. “But can you heal me while doing it, or are we just throwing this game again?”
You cackled, loud and sharp. “Nah, I’m letting you die on purpose. Builds character.”
“You say that like it hasn’t already broken me spiritually.” He tilted back in his chair until it squeaked dangerously, then lurched forward when the match countdown hit.
“Good. I thrive on your mental instability.”
He groaned again, “you’re genuinely evil.”
“And you’re genuinely down bad,” you chirped. “Now push the payload, baby boy.”
He smacked his forehead on the desk with a soft thunk. “Quit calling me that..”
You were giggling, some unholy mix of adorable and infuriating. Jeongin could practically see the shit-eating grin on your face through voice chat.
The game was nothing but chaos— team kills, botched ults, passive-aggressive pings. You played recklessly, taunting enemies in chat and spamming emotes mid-fight, while Jeongin tried desperately to play clean, to prove that he wasn’t just the guy who’d jerked off in voice chat less than 24 hours ago.
“I’m dead again,” he snapped a few minutes in, glaring at his screen. “Because somebody was too busy spamming voice lines to keep me alive.”
“Oops,” you sang. “Guess I’ll have to twerk on your grave.”
Jeongin’s eyes grew wide, flicking toward his second monitor where your Discord bubble lit up. “What?”
“You heard me. Full split. Ass in the wind. Right on your pixelated tombstone.”
He let out a strangled noise. “Oh my god..”
“‘Here lies Jeongin,’” you said in a fake solemn tone. “‘Died like he lived: being a little bitch on voice chat.’”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
His throat tightened. “…I do.” But it came out too soft, too weak, like even he didn’t believe himself.
“Aw, poor Jeongie,” you cooed, dragging out the syllables on purpose. “Getting cooked and can’t handle it?”
He clenched his jaw, fingers flying across his keyboard to respawn. “God, you’re so fucking annoying.”
“And you’re so fucking fun to annoy.”
“Uh huh,” he muttered, forcing his tone flat even though he’s clearly flustered, “keep lying to yourself, kitty.”
You sneered. “You did not just pull out the ‘kitty’ card out on me again.”
Jeongin smirked faintly, leaning back like he’d just landed a game winning play. “What’re you gonna do? Cry about it?”
Your scoff came sharp through the mic. “Say it one more time and I’ll uninstall your entire hard drive.”
His grin widened, cocky even as his palms were uncontrollably sweating. “Say it two more times and you’ll what?”
You groaned, smacking your desk loud enough for him to hear. “You’re such a pain the ass.”
“Yeah?” His voice dipped low, teasing. “Funny, you’ve been in my lobby every night this week. Who’s really suffering here?”
Your silence stretched for half a second too long, and Jeongin’s cock twitched embarrassingly in his shorts. He scrambled to fill the gap before you could notice.
“Thought so,” he muttered, respawning into lane with a huff.
The bickering didn’t stop from there. Every death was blamed, every misplay ridiculed. You called him all types names every chance you got, and everytime, his pulse jumped even as his blood boiled. He kept threatening to log off, to uninstall, to block you, but he never once did.
Two more matches. Both disasters. One ended in a rage quit from your support. The other ended with Jeongin screaming into his mic because you’d thrown yourself into the enemy spawn “for the content.” By the time the final scoreboard tallied up, it was 4:03 am, the two of you had logged off voice, but you’re right back to messaging each other again.
kittykushqueen: we’re highkey insufferable lol if someone recorded our vc it’d get shipped harder than enemies in anime
You laughed softly to yourself after hitting send, your thumbs buzzing from how fast they’d been flying across your phone all night. Your ears still rang faintly with the sound of his voice— whining about losing or barking half-assed insults, all of it burned into your skull even after the call had ended.
The typing bubble popped up, disappeared, then popped up again.
pussydemonslay3r: nah bc i’d be the fan favorite u’d be the mean one everyone hates
You snorted, tugging your blanket higher over your shoulders. Your dorm room was mostly quiet except for the whir of your mini fridge in the background, but it still felt loud with how hard your heart was beating.
kittykushqueen: wrong !!! i’m the hot one ur the whiny tsundere virgin
pussydemonslay3r: wow. ratio + cry about it + i’m logging off
You rolled your eyes so hard your head tilted back against the pillow.
kittykushqueen: wait wait wait random question…. what school do u go to?
Another pause. Long enough for your stomach to twist.
pussydemonslay3r: [uni name] why
Your eyes widened. You blinked once. Then again, rubbing them like maybe the sleep deprivation finally caught up to you and was making you hallucinate.
kittykushqueen: LMFAOOOO NO WAY this is gonna sound absolutely insane but like what dorm u in??
pussydemonslay3r: orion floor 4 why wassup
Your jaw actually dropped to the floor. You sat up straighter, staring at your phone like it had just grown legs.
kittykushqueen: no. fucking. way me too ?????
pussydemonslay3r: u lying are u playing me rn
kittykushqueen: dorm 418 bro we’re neighbors
The typing bubble appeared instantly.
pussydemonslay3r: STOP I’M 416 so ur the girl who always blasts doja at 3 am
kittykushqueen: and ur the guy who tried to microwave a spoon in week 2
pussydemonslay3r: OH MY GOD SHUT UP THAT WAS ONE TIME
kittykushqueen: this is fate or a glitch in the matrix
pussydemonslay3r: …so u wanna 1v1 irl?
kittykushqueen: say less but i’m bringing the strap (it’s a nerf gun)
pussydemonslay3r: god u’re so weird i’m obsessed
You stared at those last words for a long moment, your breath shallow, chest tight. It was stupid— insane, even— that all this time the boy you’d been tearing apart online for weeks, the one you’d teased into jerking off for you less than day ago, was only two doors down. You pressed your phone to your chest, biting back a smile that wouldn’t leave. The walls of your dorm felt paper thin all of a sudden, every sound suddenly amplified. Adrenaline courses through your veins, part nerves, part thrill. You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh, hide, or knock on his door right that second. Maybe a combination of all three.
+
The hallway outside dorm room 416 was dead quiet, dimly lit by the soft flicker of overhead fluorescents and the faint buzz of someone’s dying LED strip light from a couple doors down. The silence only made your knuckles sound louder when you rapped three sharp knocks against his door, petty and deliberate. Like you were showing up to collect debt he owed.
You heard some shuffling on the other side. Then the door cracked open, revealing Jeongin— blinking blearily behind smudged glasses, hair sticking up at odd angles, wearing a plain black t-shirt and basketball shorts that hung low on his hips. He looked… unprepared. As if he hadn’t expected you to actually show up. Not that you could blame him.
“I came to fight,” you announced, arms crossed, expression serious. Completely at odds with your bright pink Hello Kitty pajama set and fuzzy slippers.
Jeongin looked you up and down, then blinked again. “In that?”
You roll your eyes dramatically, “it’s fashion, bitch. You aren’t dressed any better.”
He huffed out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck like his brain was still buffering. “Okay, damn. Come in, I guess, before someone sees you and assumes I’m being held hostage.”
You stepped inside without hesitation, smirking. “You are being held hostage. By my superiority.”
His room was exactly what you’d imagined— and maybe even a little worse. Bookshelves filled to the brim with mangas, rows of Funko Pops and action figures, a massive Death Note poster was taped crookedly above his bed. His desk was cluttered with half empty cans of Monster, an open pack of Hot Cheetos, and keyboard crusted faintly from too many late nights. On his pillow, a Soul Eater plush sat propped up as if it owned the place.
“Wow,” you said, spinning slowly. “You really don’t get laid.”
He clicks his tongue. “God forbid a man has hobbies.”
You flopped onto his gaming chair, leaning back and giving it a lazy spin, your legs crossed, looking perfectly at home. “So this is the nerd lair. I’m impressed. It’s giving.. incel with taste.”
He leaned against the wall, arms folded. His eyes kept flicking to your bare thighs where your pajama shorts had ridden up, and he tried to force himself to look anywhere else. “It’s called having a personality.”
You snort. “Says the man who told me on Discord that Sanrio girls are a red flag.”
“Because they are,” he defended, pushing off the wall. “and I stand by that. You people are dangerous.”
“You people?” You gasped, mock-offended.
“I’m serious!” He jabbed a finger at you. “Sanrio girls throw hands, cry in club bathrooms, and threaten to slash tires with glittery keychains.”
You shrugged casually, picking at a chipped nail. “And we have the best pussy.”
Jeongin froze. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, eyes flicking down again before he forced them back up to your face. “…You can’t just say that out loud.”
You flashed a cheesy grin. “What, does Hello Kitty scare you?”
“She’s five apples tall, I just know she’s hiding something.”
“She’s literally a cat,” you deadpanned.
“She’s a concept,” he argued, stepping forward, getting way too into it. “She doesn’t even have a mouth.”
“Yet she’s still more emotionally available than most men.”
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Then he groaned, pressing his palm to his face. “I- okay, fine, you win this one.”
You hopped up from his chair, padding over until you were toe-to-toe, poking at his chest. “Say it louder.”
He rolled his eyes, but there was a blush creeping in at the tips of his ears. “You win. Congratulations. What do you want, a medal?”
You tilt your chin up to look right at him, “nah. Just wanna see the look on your face when you lose again.”
He arched a brow, curiosity sparking under the irritation. “Oh yeah? And how do you plan on doing that?”
You didn’t answer. Instead, you pushed at his chest lightly. He stumbled back, caught off guard, until the backs of his knees hit the mattress and he dropped onto the edge of his bed with a surprised “oof.” His hands hit the blanket to steady himself, but before he could recover, you climbed right onto his lap, straddling him with a wicked grin.
Jeongin’s whole body went limp, feeling another uncomfortable lump forming in his throat. His hands hovered awkwardly at your hips, not quite daring to touch, but his eyes darted over every detail of you up close— the smooth skin of your thighs pressed against his, the strap of your pajama top slipping off one shoulder, the heat of your body right against his crotch.
“Are we… still fighting?” He asked, voice a little higher than normal.
“Mhm.” You leaned down, eyes glinting. “And I’m about to win this round too.”
His brain blanked. The urge to throw another insult warred with the ache in his cock that had been building since the second you knocked.
He blinked once. Twice. Then closed the gap, kissing you.
It was clumsy at first, hesitant, like he’s in disbelief that a girl as pretty as you was actually real and currently sitting in his lap. But when your hand found the back of his neck and your fingers tugged gently at his hair, he got the memo, dissolving right into you. His lips moved in tandem with yours, warm and eager, but still refraining from fully touching as though he’s terrified you’d have second thoughts and pull away.
The Soul Eater plush toppled off his pillow and hit the floor.
Neither of you noticed.
Your breath caught as Jeongin kissed you deeper, his hands finally grounding themselves on your hips like he was done being shy about it. His grip tightened— not rough, but certain. The hesitation he’d held a moment ago seemed to melt away, replaced by something firmer, hungrier. He shifted you closer until your knees dug into the mattress on either side of him, and the heat between your bodies left no space untouched. His mouth moved with more confidence now, tongue flicking against yours, his breath hot and uneven. Every exhale carried a low hum, almost a growl, betraying just how badly he wanted this.
This wasn’t just lust— it was longing.
You felt his fingers flex against your hips, testing, adjusting his hold. He drew small circles against the thin fabric of your pajamas, fingertips lingering just beneath the waistband, not quite enough to push further, but enough to make your skin prickle with anticipation. The firmness in his touch made you realize he wasn’t playing anymore— no teasing in vc, no pretending to hate you. Just solely focused on you, pulling you in, and it made your pulse stutter.
You break away just slightly, lips still tingling, eyes searching his. “You sure you’re not scared of Sanrio girls?”
Jeongin smirked, face flushed from the kiss. “Terrified,” he said. “But I think I like the fear.”
A laugh bubbled out of you, but the sound turned into a gasp when he guided your hips against his, slow and purposeful. You could feel him now— unbearably hard, pressed against the thin barrier of your pajama shorts, and the confidence behind his movement made your head spin. His hands urged you closer, encouraging you to roll your hips again, and when you did, he let out a curse under his breath.
“You like teasing, huh?” He murmured, voice low as he leaned in, trailing wet kisses along the rim of your jaw. “Running that mouth, thinking I won’t do anything.”
You blinked, momentarily stunned by the shift in him. “Is this you trying to sound hot right now?”
“Is it working?” He asked, lips brushing over the edge of your neck, pausing just long enough for his tongue to dart against your skin.
…Yeah. It was. But you weren’t gonna let him know that just yet.
“I think you’re bluffing,” you challenged, tilting your head back slightly. “All talk.”
“Oh?” Jeongin tugged gently at the hem of your pajama top, his fingers lightly brushing underneath. “Then let me prove it.”
His voice was gentle, but commanding in a way you hadn’t expected from the guy who just ten minutes ago was raging about lag spikes and accusing Hello Kitty of being a demon. He wasn’t stuttering, wasn’t nervous, looking straight at you with a seriousness that made your chest tighten. This was a whole new side of him you’ve never seen before… and you could barely contain your own excitement.
Your hands slid up into his hair, threading through the messy strands until you had a firm hold, messing it up further. He bit his lip when your nails scraped lightly against his scalp.
“Okay, gamer boy,” you said, a little more breathless than you intended. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Jeongin chuckled against your skin, warm and cocky, and way too arrogant for someone who still had a plushie lying upside down on the floor like it was a casualty. His lips trailed lower, peppering kisses across the side of your neck, pausing every so often to gently suckle. His hands slipped further under your top, fingertips gliding over your waist. He wasn’t rushing, and somehow that made your heart beat even faster.
“You always talk this much during games?” He murmured, nipping at your neck.
You exhaled, nails still tugging on his hair. “You always flirt like this with girls who roast you in Discord?”
He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his expression serious despite the flush spreading across his cheeks. “Only the ones who send me thirst traps and make me question my entire existence.”
You smirked, dragging your fingers over to toy with the hem of his shirt. “So… me.”
“Unfortunately, yes,” he muttered, right before leaning in and kissing you again, this time with more intent, more pressure. His tongue slid against yours, teasing and warm, and when you shifted in his lap, he let out a quiet, wrecked sound that went straight to your core.
You felt the twitch of his arousal against you, solid and needy through the thin layers of clothing, and the fact that he was trying so hard to keep it together only made it ten times hotter.
“God,” he breathed out, forehead resting against yours, “you’re gonna kill me.”
“You’re the one who said ‘1v1 me IRL,’” you teased, reaching for the bottom of his t-shirt. “Don’t start what you can’t finish, Jeongin.”
He lifts his arms and lets you peel it off, his body heat rises under your palms as you raked your nails down lightly. He inhaled sharply.
“Oh, I plan on finishing,” he affirms, though he paused not even a second later, eyes flicking away sheepishly. “That sounded a lot cooler in my head..”
You burst out laughing, and he kissed you again just to shut you up.
His lips moved slower now, savoring the way you taste. Every tilt of his head, every drag of his mouth felt deliberate, unhurried. His hands kept roaming under your top, gliding up your sides, exploring every inch of you. You whispered his name softly, and the way he looked up at you with the utmost intensity made your chest ache. He looked at you as if you were the one thing he’d never expected to have, and now that you were here, he wasn’t letting go.
“Tell me what you want,” he meets your gaze with pleading eyes, already so eager. “I’ll do anything.”
The way he said it made you clench around nothing, heat curling low in your stomach until it ached. His cock was throbbing under you, pressing against you in a way that had you grinding down without even meaning to. Every little shift made him jolt, breath stuttering, thighs tensing under your weight. His hands gripped your legs tighter, thumbs brushing up near the edge of your shorts, seconds away from slipping underneath. He looked equal parts nervous and wrecked, but the hunger there was undeniable.
“Wild that you’re about to lose your virginity to the girl who flames you the hardest,” you said, grinning.
He let out a dry little chuckle, the sound low and shaky. Whatever pride he’d been clinging to had already gone out the window— he was hard, you were on top of him, and in his head that meant he’d already won.
“Yeah,” he admitted, lips curling into the faintest smirk. “And I’d do it again.”
His fingers slid beneath the elastic of your shorts, teasing the center of your damp panties. “You’re soaked,” he muttered, almost to himself, voice thick with disbelief. “All that attitude just to end up dripping for me.”
Your hips jerked up instinctively, a whine spilling from your throat as your eyes scrunched shut. His eyes darkened instantly, pupils blown wide, the faint shine of his glasses reflecting the lamplight. He looked absolutely undone, and yet fully in control.
“Look at me when I touch you.” His voice was firmer now, commanding.
Your lips parted to sass back, to remind him who was supposed to be winning this so-called fight, but the moment his hand pressed firmly against your clothed clit, all that witty defiance ended up dissolving into a ragged moan.
You looked straight at him.
“Good girl,” he murmured, the words slipped out low and husky, his tone steady but threaded with something desperate. His glasses had slid down his nose, his messy black hair framing his face, looking like every anime character you’d secretly thirsted over too long— except this wasn’t your screen. He was very real. And very much between your legs.
“I’ve waited way too long to get you like this,” he said as his fingers dragged lazy circles, feeling your juices seeping through the fabric. “Talking shit in voice chat, calling me a pussy. You really think I wasn’t gonna do something about that?”
“Jeongin,” you breathed, hips rolling toward his hand, your thighs trembling. The sound of his name spilling from your lips had his head reeling, he swore he could cum untouched just from hearing it.
Before you knew it, you toppled over and your back collided with the mattress, he’d flipped you over to be on top now. He slid down the bed, settling between your legs once again, his face hovered close enough that you could feel his breath against the cotton barrier of your panties. When he looked up at you, pupils dark and lips swollen, you felt chills go up your spine.
“Say my name again,” he said softly. “And I’ll make you forget how to say anything else.”
All you managed was a shaky breath but you did as you were told, letting out another soft moan of his name that sent the blood rushing straight to his cock.
His hand dips back beneath the elastic, his fingers pressing against your soaked panties, and the sticky wet sound made both of you groan. He slipped them aside without warning, and the cool air on your wet cunt had you clenching before he even touched you. Jeongin pushed two fingers inside, filling your tight little hole, watching your face as your back arched. The stretch had you gasping, clutching the sheets beneath you tighter. His jaw clenched at the way your walls fluttered around him immediately, gripping his fingers like you’d been waiting for this forever. He pumps in and out slowly at first, his thumb brushing lightly over your clit. Your hips rolled up to meet him, chasing the friction. His lips curled, cocky but awed.
“Take my fingers so well, baby,” he muttered, voice rough. The slick squelch of your cunt echoed in the small room, loud and shameless. He pressed a third finger in before you had time to process, groaning at the way you stretched around him. “Want more?”
“Yes! Fuck—” the word tumbled out broken, your thighs twitching against his sides. You were stuffed, trembling, clenching around every push of his fingers as they drove deeper, curling them just right inside you.
Jeongin leaned closer, his forehead pressing to your stomach as he worked his hand faster. “Messy girl. Getting it all over the sheets already.” His words vibrated against your skin.
Your body buzzed with heat, sweat clinging to your skin, exhaustion mixing with pleasure until it felt like you were floating. Every thrust of his fingers dragged you closer, the pressure building, your moans spilling free without filter.
Jeongin was loving every second of it. The way your cunt swallowed his digits, the sounds of your wetness filling his ears, the sight of you squirming under him. His pace quickened, eyes locked on your face, soaking in every reaction.
“Mmm… you’re perfect,” he groaned. “Look at you- clenching so tight. You’ll take whatever I give you, won’t you?”
Your thighs squeezed around his arm, lips parting to release a broken moan. You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t focus on anything except the way he stretched you out, heat pooling heavy in your stomach. All you could do was hold tighter, breath shallow, feeling lightheaded as your orgasm approached fast and hard.
Your orgasm slammed into you hard from the way his fingers curled inside, but Jeongin didn’t let you come down from it. The second your body started to spasm around his hand, he pulled his fingers out, leaving you gasping, and shoved your shorts and panties down your legs in one impatient tug.
Before you had the chance to catch your breath, he already nestles himself between your thighs, spreading you open with both hands and lowering his face.
“Jeongin—” you barely managed his name before his mouth latched onto your clit, sucking hard, tongue flicking over the sensitive nub with zero hesitation.
Your back arched clean off the bed. A strangled moan ripped out of you as your hands shot to his hair, tugging at the strands. He groaned against your cunt, the vibrations making your entire body jolt.
“Fuck- holy shit—” your voice broke, knees shaking uncontrollably as he licked a long stripe from your entrance up to your clit before burying his tongue back down into you. He was messy, spit was everywhere, your wetness coats his chin as slurping sounds filled the room.
You’d never expected him to be this good. You figured he’d be clumsy, unsure, but he was focused, greedy, working your pussy like he’d studied for this moment. And in a way, he had. Every late night porn binge, every video of girls grinding on tongues and riding faces— he’d memorized it all. Now, he was putting that research to use.
He alternated between sucking your clit, swirling his tongue around it, and pushing it inside you as far as it would go. Each shift in rhythm had you writhing, your thighs snapping shut around his head, but he only groaned in satisfaction, prying them back open to keep at it.
“Jesus, Jeongin, stop—” you whine, though your hips were grinding against his face. “I-I can’t—”
“You can,” he muttered into you before flicking his tongue over your clit again. His voice was wrecked, almost unrecognizable, and his tongue never let up.
Your whole body shudders, hands clawing at the sheets, your cries bouncing off the walls of his dorm. He was practically drowning in you— his chin, his cheeks, even the tip of his nose glistened with your slick. He was groaning with every movement, rutting subtly against the mattress just from eating you out, like he couldn’t get enough.
Everytime you thought you were about to break apart, he pushed you harder— sucking, licking, moaning into you until your orgasm crashed over you again, harder than before. You screamed his name, whimpering in pathetic desperation, nails digging into his scalp.
But he still didn’t stop.
He lapped at you through your orgasm, tongue relentless, mouth wet and noisy. The overstimulation had you thrashing, another string of whines spilling out without control, your body jerking under him as if you were trying to escape. He pinned your hips down with his hands, holding you in place while his tongue drew quick circles over your clit.
“Too much- Jeongin, fuck, please,” you begged, half sobbing, your thighs twitching violently.
He finally pulled back just enough to smirk up at you, the entire bottom half of his face drenched with your arousal. His eyes were blown wide, hair a complete mess from your grip.
“Beg prettier,” he rasped, then immediately dove right back in, pressing more open-mouthed kisses to your overly sensitive clit.
Tears pricked at your eyes from the intensity, your body spasming. You’d never been eaten out like this— messy, sloppy, desperate. He devoured you like he’d starved for it. And each time you thought he’d pull back, he pushed harder, forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you until you were nothing but a convulsing, overstimulated mess.
When he finally pulled away for real, your chest was heaving, sweat dampening your hairline. You were in ruins, legs spread wide, sheets completely soaked beneath you. He licked his lips, still panting, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, though it did absolutely nothing to clean him up.
“I could eat you forever,” he muttered, dazed, voice low and rough.
You whimpered, trying to steady your breathing, thighs still twitching through the aftershocks, and yet the sight of him, hair ruined and lips swollen, made arousal surge right back into your veins.
Slowly, shakily, you pushed yourself upright, crawling toward him. His eyes tracked you the entire way, chest rising fast, his hard cock straining obviously against his shorts.
Your palms pressed against his chest, shoving him back until he laid flat on the bed. You swung a leg over him, settling on his hips, your hands smoothing down his bare chest as you leaned forward.
He moaned when you kissed him again, getting a taste of yourself on his tongue. Your hand slipped down, tugging at the band of his shorts.
You pulled back just enough to whisper against his lips, your smile wicked. “My turn.”
And then you started to slide down his body, ready to take him into your mouth.
You pulled his shorts down in one rough motion, his cock springing free, flushed red and leaking. He jolted at the exposure, a broken sound catching in his throat as you wrapped your hand around the base. He was thick in your grip, pulsing with every tiny shift of your fingers, the head already slick with precum.
“Fuck..” Jeongin hissed, head falling back into his pillow. He tried to cover his face with his arm, embarrassed at how fast he was leaking for you, but dropped it when you bent down and let a thick string of spit drip directly onto the swollen tip. It slid down his shaft, mixing with his precum and your hand stroking lazily along his length. His hips bucked before he could stop himself, a groan escaping. “Oh my god—”
You licked a slow stripe up his cock, pressing your tongue flat against the vein before circling the head and spitting again, deliberately letting it dribble out of your mouth onto him. He throbbed in your grasp, chest rising faster.
“You’ve been dreaming about this, huh?” You smirked, stroking him with the mess you’d made. “Bet all those nights jerking off to hentai didn’t prepare you for the real thing.”
Jeongin groaned, hands fisting the sheets tight. “S-shut up—” his protest cut off in a sharp gasp when you took him into your mouth, lips sealing around the head, tongue lapping up every drop of slick and spit.
You moaned around him, vibrating down his cock, and he lost it instantly. “Shit- ah—” his hips jerked, and you pinned him down with one hand against his stomach, the other guiding his cock deeper.
Detaching slowly, a thick strand of spit stretched from your lips to his tip. You slapped his cock down against your tongue, your mouth wide open so he could see the mess you’d made. Drool ran down your chin, dripping onto your chest. “Look at this. Look at how hard you are for me, gamer boy.”
The noise he made was downright sinful— half a groan, half a whimper. His hands shot to his hair, tugging at it until his knuckles turned white. He looked worn out already, and you hadn’t even gone all the way yet.
You swallowed him down again, forcing your throat to relax as you pushed further. Your nose brushed his pelvis, and your throat clenched tight around him, gagging loudly. Spit bubbled at the corners of your lips, coating him, dripping onto his balls as you swallowed and pulled back only to sink down again.
You pulled off only for a moment, spit and precum running down your chin, only to drool another messy string directly onto his cock before sucking the head back into your mouth. You hollowed your cheeks, bobbing your head faster now, the obscene wet sounds filling both your eardrums. His thighs shook violently, his breath coming out in sharp, broken pants.
“Gonna- ah- fuck, gonna cum!” His voice cracked, frantic, almost pleading. His hand hovered over your head like he wanted to shove you down but was too overwhelmed.
You didn’t let up. If anything, you went harder— taking him so deep you’re damn near choking on his length, spit soaking your face and dripping down onto the sheets. You let it get filthy, sloppy, your tongue working fast as your throat milked him.
His whole body tensed, stomach caving in as you’re sucking the life out of him, abs flexing under your hand. With a guttural moan, he spilled into your mouth, hot ropes of cum flooding your throat in heavy pulses. You swallowed instantly, gulping it down while your tongue kept working the head. His cock twitched again, and he choked out a loud, broken cry.
You pulled back to suck him clean until he hissed from the oversensitivity. When you finally let him slip from your lips, you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue to show him. Clean, every drop swallowed. Then you licked your lips, drool still glistening on your chin.
Jeongin stared at you like he’d just ascended. His chest heaved, his glasses crooked, hair sticking in every direction as he rose from the pillow. He looked completely undone, eyes glassy, lips parted.
“My god—” his voice was beyond wrecked. “you’re insane.”
You don’t even reply, just flash him a little smirk before crawling up his body and straddling him again, your soaked pussy pressing against his softening cock, making him groan under you. You kissed him deep, letting him taste himself on your tongue, spit messy between your mouths.
When you pulled back, your voice was husky. “Don’t get comfy yet. I’m not done with you.”
You kissed down his jaw, shifting until you were sliding lower again, ready to take him back into your mouth, but this time to get him hard all over so you could ride him.
Jeongin barely had time to catch his breath before you were sliding down his chest again, your tongue tracing over his skin, tasting the sweat that had started to gather there. His was still sensitive from the load he’d spilled down your throat, but when your lips wrapped around the head and you sucked gently, he cursed, already half-hard again.
“Fuck, baby, slow down,” he gasped, but his hips betrayed him, pushing up into your mouth. His voice cracked, needy and strained.
You popped off with a wet sound, saliva stringing from your lips to his cock. “Mm, no. I’m not waiting. Wanna feel you inside me now.”
His jaw went slack, a sharp curse slipping out under his breath as he watched you spit onto his cock again, stroking him until he was hard and heavy in your hand. His eyes flicked down between your legs, watching the way your pussy glistened, still dripping from how hard he’d worked you over earlier.
You straddled him, grabbing his cock and guiding the tip to your entrance. The first push in had you both moaning, your head falling back as your walls stretched around him, his hands clutching your waist like he needed something to stabilize himself.
“Holy shit—” Jeongin choked, voice quivering. “You’re- fuck, you’re so tight. You’re really- fuck, you’re taking all of me?”
Your nails dug into his chest as you sank down inch by inch, feeling every vein, every twitch of his cock as it stuffed you full. The stretch burned in the best way, and when you finally bottomed out, sitting flush against his hips, you whimpered at how deep he reached.
“God, you’re so big,” you moaned, rolling your hips slowly to adjust. “Stuffing me so full I can’t even think.”
Jeongin’s head fell back into his pillow, sweat already beading along his hairline. “Fuck, you’re perfect, oh my god—” He lifted his hips to meet yours, groaning as your pussy swallows him whole. “Don’t stop- please.”
You braced your hands on his chest and started to move, bouncing on him, grinding your hips to milk every inch, each slap of your ass against his thighs making him groan louder. He tried to keep his eyes open, to watch the way your tits bounced in your thin pajama top, but his eyes kept rolling back when you slammed down hard enough to make his cock twitch deep inside you.
“Fuck- you’re gonna ruin me,” he panted, nails biting into your waist. “Keep riding me, kitty, please- oh fuck—”
The nickname had you clenching around him, your walls fluttering as you moaned shamelessly. You leaned forward, kissing him hard, sloppy and wet, spit mixing as his tongue tangled with yours. You loved how messy it was, how needy he sounded, how completely undone he looked beneath you.
But then he gritted his teeth, flipped you onto your back, and drove his cock back into you in one sharp thrust. You yelped, legs flying up around his waist as he started pounding into you, fucking you with a pace so raw and desperate you could barely breathe.
“Thought you could win this round?” He growled, his voice breaking with every thrust. “Look at you, whimpering, moaning, you love it, don’t you? Love when I fuck you stupid.”
“Yes! Yes, fuck- Jeongin!” You cried out, your nails dragging down his back as he held your thighs open, driving himself into you over and over. Your cunt was so wet it splattered everywhere, the lewd sounds echoing louder than his grunts, the mattress squeaking under the force.
He buried his face in your neck, kissing, biting, moaning into your skin as he fucked you. His thrusts were relentless, sharp and deep, hitting that spot inside you that had your eyes rolling back. You couldn’t even form words anymore, just broken sounds, gasps, and his name spilling from your lips.
“God- you’re dripping all over me,” he groaned, hips snapping hard. “Gonna make me cum again if you keep squeezing me like that- fuck.”
Your legs trembled around his waist, tears brimming your eyes from the overstimulation, but you didn’t want him to stop. Every thrust had your stomach tightening, the coil pulling tighter and tighter until you were on the edge again, your cries muffled against his shoulder.
When you came, it ripped through you like a shockwave, your cunt spasming around his cock, milking him. He grunts into your ear, fucking you through it, letting you ride it out until you collapsed boneless beneath him, panting and shaking.
But he wasn’t done.
He pulled out, his cock slick and throbbing, and manhandled you onto your hands and knees before sliding back onto the bed. His chest rose and fell fast, sweat dripping down his temple, but his eyes were still wild. He tugged you onto him, guiding you until you were facing away from him, your ass pressed against his thighs.
“Reverse cowgirl,” he panted, gripping your hips. “Wanna see you ride me in the mirror.”
You glanced up— and there it was. The full-length mirror propped against his wall reflected everything. Your blissed-out face, your messy hair, your pussy dripping as his cock lined up again with your entrance.
You sank down slowly, both of you watching the mirror as his cock slid back inside you. The sight made your stomach clench, your walls already fluttering before you even started moving.
“Oh fuck,” Jeongin sighed, throwing his head back before forcing his eyes open again to watch the reflection. “Look at you, so fucking sexy, I can’t—”
You braced your hands on your thighs and started bouncing, slamming yourself down onto him over and over. His cock hit so deep you saw stars, your moans getting louder as you rode him fast, the mirror showing every obscene detail. His grip bruised your hips, pulling you down harder, and you could feel how close he was by the way his cock twitched inside you.
“Fuck, Jeongin- so deep!” You cried, grinding down and rolling your hips, your eyes locked on the mirror.
He was moaning openly now, no shame, watching you lose yourself on his cock. His voice cracked as he begged, his head falling back against the mattress. “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop—”
And neither of you did.
You rode him harder, faster, your reflection showing just how messy and fucked-out you both were, your bodies glistening with sweat. By the time you both reached the edge again, you weren’t thinking straight— just raw, desperate pleasure, chasing the high together as the mirror reflected every second of it.
The tension in the room finally snapped with one last shared cry, your body seizing around him as he spilled deep inside, groaning through his teeth while holding you flush against him. You barely managed another thrust down onto him before your body gave up, trembling and overstimulated, your legs refusing to hold you any longer.
You collapsed on top of him, your sweaty back sliding against his chest as his arms wrapped tight around your waist. His cock still pulsed weakly inside you, buried deep as you both gasped for breath, your skin coated with sweat, sheets beneath you a sticky, ruined mess.
For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of panting. His chest heaved against your spine, your cheek pressed into the crook of his arm. Your body still recovering every few seconds from aftershocks, and he rubbed your hip slowly, grounding you back into the moment.
When you finally had the strength to roll off him, you turned onto your side, curling into his chest. He tucked an arm under your head, pulling you close in a way that felt too easy, too natural for what had just happened.
You let your eyes close for a second, your voice hoarse when you muttered, “getting cracked into another dimension by a virgin who spends his time gaming all day was definitely not on my bingo card.”
Jeongin snorted, chest shaking beneath your cheek. “On the bright side, at least I can live up to my username now.”
You laughed weakly, smacking his chest with the little energy you had left. He winced dramatically, like you’d actually hurt him, then grinned when you snuggled closer despite yourself. The sex appeal had evaporated completely with that dumb comment, replaced with something much lighter. Normally his dumbass one-liners would’ve drove you insane, but now? With his arm around you and his breath warming your hair, you found it almost… endearing.
You both lay there in silence for a while, tangled messily in sheets, sore and sated. His fingers traced random shapes against your arm absentmindedly, and you let him. Neither of you moved to get up, neither of you said “good game” or “queue again.” For once, there wasn’t an insult looming between you.
Still, the quiet wasn’t simple. It felt heavier, charged in a different way. You were supposed to be enemies— sniping at each other on Discord, flaming in voice chat, swearing you couldn’t stand him. But after everything that just happened? After the way he’d touched you, the way you’d screamed his name, the way he was holding you now like you belonged there?
The thought hovered at the tip of your tongue, soft and uncertain, making your chest tight. What are we?
You didn’t ask. Not yet, at least. But the question lingered in the room, in the space between your bodies, in the warmth of his arm tightening around you as you both drifted off into the silence of early morning.
Jeongin wasn't sweet, oh no. So far from that title. The sweet little maknae was supposed to be the kindest in bed don't you think? Think again.
The bed legs screamed to have a break. You're back arched into the mattress with your face pushed into the pillow you and Jeongin cuddle on. Saliva trickles down your jaw in a way that makes him just want to fuck you harder (more than he is right now), you look straight out of a porno with the caption being “She asked, and she received”.
You did ask for it, his little ‘TikTok’ dance where he’s grinding for shit’s n giggles, had you so hot and bothered all you wanted was to be fucked dumb by the teal-haired man.
The feeling of his cock stretching you full makes your eyes water and leaves you moaning like a bitch. Why? Because even after four years of dating you still can't adjust to his unexpected length. He’s so fucking big.
The head scraps your cervix almost instantly. The girth on him makes him fill you in ways that leave you feeling like he’s still inside you for literal weeks.
"C'mon, darling? You can't handle what you begged for?”
His hips slam into you like he’s been longing to stuff you full of his cum and tonight seems to be the day you finally let him. You huff and whine at how you practically feel him fucking into your guts, all your senses are dialed making everything so sensitive.
Jeongin’s forearms that hold up your hips, flex and reveal a new vein everytime he tightens his grip. His nose scrunches and his mouth falls open to let out grunts of pleasure.
“Squeezing me so fuck’n tight. You never want me to pull out, yeah?”
It's adorable to him to see you all limp, you were just all cocky and saying you could take him and now you can't do anything but claw at the bedsheets like a little kitty. So cute.
“Ha, jeo- innie, oh fuck-!” You shout, your eyes rolling back; the sensation is just so good you can't even hold yourself up anymore. Malicious arch that’s going to leave you with scoliosis but it's so worth it.
His pace stops and he says in a teasing tone. “Sore already? Seriously, jagi? Do I have to do everything?” Behind his mockery is a big smirk, he loves to take care of you. Especially in times like these knowing he’s the explanation why you can't do essential things.
“T-Too much- mph.” You babble. “Too much? I haven't even gotten started.” Jeongin then releases his grip on you to pull you up to make your back press against his chest. He does this without pulling out skin-to-skin, which makes him press into you deliciously. The kneeling position and being skin-to-skin make your brain fog with pure desire for what’s going to happen next.
Jeongin ruts into you slowly rolling his hips. His arms wrap around you to hold you still, his right hand holding onto your left breast, the left holding onto your lower waist. Just like in the video.
“Do you feel me in your stomach?” The biggest grin on his face as he asked. “Y-Yes, p-please.” Your body was trembling in either exhaustion or excitement, most likely both. The words slipped from your tongue like a wish. “Use your words.”
"Mmmm, feel you... in my stomach." Your voice comes out in a soft purr, it’s different from before. “Please. Move,” His breath is hot against your skin yet it just makes everything else more alluring. “Like this?” With practiced ease, his hips roll ever so slowly. Jeongin’s tongue trails the slight sweat trail that forms on your nape.
The teasing is starting to annoy you. “Innie, please just fuck me already.” You wanted it to come out stern but unfortunately it came out like a pathetic plea. “Aw, don't get impatient. You must need me so bad.” Before you could beg again his dick was quick to cut you off. The new position was brutal, all you could feel was him.
“Oh- f-fuck!” Jeongin held you tight and steady as he fucked into you. The sound that filled the bedroom was disgusting, it was all plap, plap, plap. With every thrust, you felt him reach deeper and deeper. Everything felt so sensitive but it you never wanted him to stop. “You beg for more but you can't even handle it.” His words came out muffled from nibbling hickeys into your neck. He had taken the opportunity once your head had tilted back onto his shoulder.
He tilts your chin with his finger to make you face him. You appear blissful, mouth open as you moan, eyes glazed and makeup smeared. Still, to him, you looked stunning in this state. His lips align with yours, his hips continuing to fuck you open while the two of you share a kiss full of teeth and saliva.
Pulling away to catch your breath your eyes meet his once more. “Gonna, c-cum-!” Without saying another word he smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead, what a gentleman. Jeongin’s hand leaves your hip while the other stays cupping your breast. His fingers trail down your stomach making you shiver just before his digits start to leave circles on your puffy clit.
You're melting into him, back arching off his chest to hump the fingers playing with your pussy. The pressure of his fingers along with his dick twitching from his climax reaching knocks every brain cell you had left out. “Give it to me, do it.” Jeongin’s hips smack against your ass at a faster momentum like two animals in heat. His balls smack against you becoming tighter as you shout out his name.
“Let me fill you, just this once?” He knew in the state you were in you’d say yes, but he didn't actually think it would work. “Ah-! Mph, yes-!” You're always so strict on protection and not ruining his ‘Idol Image’ but fuck you had to take his load when he looks this good.”
Getting the rest of the energy you have left your hands rest on his knees to fuck yourself against him. “There you go, look at you, darling.” The praise sounded like butter as your ass bounced on him.
With that, you squirt all over Jeongin’s cock that pulses out his own seed. The mix of liquids spills from your sopping cunt, leaks down onto his base and down to your thighs. Your pussy clenches around his now soft shaft. He holds you upright still holding you like how he had had you positioned, cradling you as he presses soft kisses down your shoulder.
It's the only sound in the room is small pants and hearts pounding, it's a moment. Jeongin lifts your hips finally pulling out and laying you to rest on your back. He gets up for a moment before coming back shortly to clean you up.
His touch is gentle compared to before– separating your legs to clean up the cum that's still oozing out. Your fingers find his hair, the cool teal color that started this mess in the first place while you hum at the gentle touches.
After finishing he leaves the rag somewhere on the floor with the rest of the clothing that had been discarded earlier. Jeongin’s forearms now on each side of your head as he hovers over you with his known soft smile and pretty eyes full of love. “How’s my baby doing?” His dimples poke out of his cheeks as he asks. “Stable, and you?” Jeongin snickers at your reply.
“Did you like my hair that much?” You groan and roll your eyes pretending to be annoyed. “Like? Jeongin I fucking love it.” You claimed. “Does this mean I get to fuck you raw every time now?”
You scoff and reach up to wrap your arms around his neck. “Keep the teal and you can do whatever to me.” You've never seen his light up with such happiness.
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ooooohhhhh @/felix and @/jeongin ooooohhhhh you both wanna make a unit track so bad oooohhhhh🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️
Tags: Groping, Semi public sex, Blowjob, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Spanking, Cum eating, Mild possessiveness (both parties) Just filth lol
A/N: Usually hate this trope because people use it in a weird pred way but in this house everyone is well into adulthood! I couldn't pass up an opportunity to write about this look on felix 😩
The moment he saw you walk into his classroom he knew he was in immense trouble. He couldn't keep his eyes away from you when teaching. He'd be rambling about some topic of the day then make eye contact with you, softly smiling at him like you already knew of the effect you have on him. He completely loses his train of thought, Sputtering over his words to recover so he doesn't make an idiot of himself in front of his class.
Once He finds out your name he has to fight back the urge to look you up, see if you have any profiles, he doesn't end up doing it though, He thinks it would be unprofessional and an invasion of privacy as he is your professor.
He decides to live the ball in your court. He believes he's made it quite clear he's interested in you. It's not until you start hanging back more often when class is dismissed to talk to him or ask for advice on your papers you're writing, he pays no mind to it at first but he couldn't miss your obvious attempts to initiate something with him.
The way you lean over his desk to talk to him while he's grading assignments, Your button up shirt conveniently unbuttoned enough for him to see your cleavage, traced with your lace bra. Or the way your skirts would get shorter and shorter as the days went on.
"Pleaseeee let me retake the test, professor Lee! I've been so busy I didn't have time to study– I promise I can do better!"
You plead, having gotten your first ever failing grade in his class and you were desperate to fix it. Felix doesn't normally do retakes but for you of course he can work something out, But he makes you sweat a little bit more.
"Hm..Y/N, You know I don't do retakes. I give everyone more than enough time and materials to pass my exams." He sits in his chair coldly, looking up at you with those piercing eyes. Your bottom lip quivers as you drop down to your knees in front of him, clasping your hands together tightly in front of your chest.
"I know you do but please— just let me do it this once. I promise I won't slack off again."
He was going to give you a retake regardless but seeing you on your knees in front of him destroyed every ounce of well being he had left. His adam's apple bobs as he looks down at you.
"Alright, Alright, I'll let you redo the test."
Your eyes gleam with extreme gratitude. You smile brightly, drawing closer in between his legs. "Thank you! I won't let you down, I promise." You were always eager to make him proud. You are his star student after all, You strived to remain his top student so you could relish in the praise he'd give you. It excited you so much knowing he noticed your hard work and gave you accommodating words that you would later touch youself to back at home.
Felix thought this whole ordeal was over but when you didn't make any attempts to get up off the floor, he looked back at you confused, curiously tilting his head.
"I really appreciate it, professor...Is there any way I can..repay you?" your hands plant themselves on his knees as you look up at him through your eyelashes, angling your chest forward to let your clevage hang. Felix gulps down more saliva, he's tried so hard to not mix pleasure with work but you've made it impossible. He feels his cock stiffen in his pants, he brings his hand down your cheek, caressing the hot flushed skin there, you practically melt into his touch, pressing and purring into it.
He brings his hand down your face to your mouth, pressing his thumb against your bottom lip. You obediently part your lips. "Do you think you could use this pretty mouth on me?" the bud of his thumb slips in your mouth, you eagerly clamp down around it, sucking softly.
So you do exactly what he askd. Suck him off right behind his desk. Felix thinks he's ascended to heaven, you mouth is warm and your throat avidly accepts his dick, Your slurping and gagging sounds spur him on completely, He bundles your hair into a ponytail and helps you keep a steady pace.
"Fuck— just like that angel, go a little faster, use that tounge like I know you can"
From that day forward the both of you have ruined each other. You start to hang behind every day just to be with him. Neither of you have made the move of seeing one another outside of campus yet because it adds to the excitement.
"Are you going to give anyone else a chance?" Felix teasingly questions, looking down at the class grades and seeing your name at the top yet again. You grin as you place yourself onto of his desk, crossing your legs
"No, I like when you only see my name. Plus, I never wanna stop hearing you praise me for my amazing work ethic." You playfully flip your hair, Felix chuckles as he places the papers down, approaching your crossed legs, his face inches from yours
"I can do more than praise." he darkly reply's, his hands moving to slowly uncross your legs, since you're wearing yet another short skirt he sees your underwear that has a damp circle in the middle, he smirks to himself before flicking his eyes back up to you.
"Since my star student did so well, I'm gonna eat her out right here on my desk. That sound good?"
He spends hours between your thighs, holding your legs open, his glasses fogging up as you lean back on your hands, moaning and shaking from pleasure. The taste of you on his tongue is never enough. He makes you cum on his tongue multiple times before he's satisfied. He doesn't care if you ruin his paperwork or his desk, all he wants is your sweet essence burned onto his tastebuds.
He gets a little jealous when he notices that you've befriended a guy in his class. He sees the way he looks at you and how your head tilts back when he makes you laugh. It stirs something dark within Felix that he never knew he could feel. After class he will confront you, his voice cold and he's not being touchy like he usually is.
"Baby I swear to you he's just a friend. You know I only want you." You cup his face gently, he leans into your touch, wanting to believe you but he just can't. He can see it in that boys eyes that he doesn't have good intentions with you.
"I don't like the way he looks at you. He's up to no good." Felix sternly remarks, his hands travel down to your hips, drawing you closer into him. He doesn't know if he actually sees evil in this student or if he's just disgustingly jealous that he's taken your attention off him.
"I won't talk to him anymore." You say softly, leaning in to brush your nose against his, your lips ghosting one another. Felix hums. "Good." before taking your lips with his, the sweet yet bitterness of your chapstick mixing with your fragrant perfume.
Just to make sure he gets his point across, he'll fuck you ontop of the table where this mystery friend sits, making you scream who you belong to and that you don't forget it. Your legs spread apart as he deeply thrust into you, squeezing your breast and marking your neck for everyone to see the next day.
"I'm the only one who can make you feel this good, right?" he raspes into your skin, the repetitive sound of his pelvis meeting your thighs, filling the empty classroom. "Y-Yes! only you" you brokenly whimper, clawing at his back as you arch into him for more, secretly liking this rough jealous side of him.
"Gonna breed this pretty pussy, would you like that, angel?" He grunts into your ear, you practically yelp at the idea of him cumming inside you, a frantic desperate yes leaves you. "Mmhm! please give it to me, wan' it so bad"
"Hey lovely, I miss your face" he'd text. It's currently break and he hasn't seen you in weeks and it's driving him mad. The taste of you no longer occupies his tounge. "I miss you too :)" you text back, you responded quicker than he expected. "Can you send me something?" he feels like a gross pervert for asking but nothing else can get him off but you. A video of you fingering yourself gets sent, you moan his name as you wet cunt sloshes around your fingers. He feels like he could cum in his pants watching. He beats his dick raw to your video until he can't cum anymore.
You come tumbling into his classroom with your notebooks and papers, your shoes clacking against the floor as you sprint over to his desk. "Sorry I'm late, I couldn't find my keys and traffic was awful" you pant as you set your stuff down, Felix looks at you with a stoic expression, his wire rimmed glasses sitting perfectly on his nose and you know you're in trouble. "You know how I feel about being late, angel." Before you can respond to defend yourself he pats his lap, You know what that means..you make your way over to him and lay yourself across his lap, his hand snakes up and down the back of your thigh, occasionally slithering up your skirt.
"Be a good girl and count for me, yeah?" his fingers teasing pull at your thong, letting it snap back against your skin, you jolt with a whine "Yes professor" Although you're about to be punished you're not sad about it, sometimes you even make him mad on purpose just to get such treatment. His hand unexpectedly comes down against flesh of your ass, the slap echoing throughout the room, You yelp at hot sting but quickly recover when he rubs the spot he just hit. "One.." your voice is small and wobbly, He doesn't stop until your ass is red and your panties are sticky with arousal.
"Did you learn your lesson, doll?" He asks tauntingly, your body quivers with excitement and you mewl out a response. "Y-Yes professor, I promise it won't happen again." he hums in contempt as he continues to soothe the stinging sensation against your ass before moving to pull your thong to the side. "Such a naughty girl. Enjoying your punishment this much, you're practically dripping"
He eases two fingers inside, your wet gummy walls wrapping tightly around them eagerly, you moan and plead for more but Felix takes his time with you. Curling his fingers right at that spot that makes your whole body tremble, "More— p-please..I'll be nughhh– I'll be good." you mindlessly babble, his continues to scissor you open while admiring the view of you wetness making a spot on his pants. "Yeah?~ you'll be good and take everything I give you? he dry chuckles, slowly drawing his fingers out just to here your desperate whimpers in protest.
"Yes! I'll take it, I always do." You purr, Felix hums in agreement as he reinserts his fingers, an additional one added just as requested, your eyes roll to the back of your head as you cry out in bliss. He works you open until you cream and squirt on his fingers, his name leaving your lips as you shake in his lap. "Mmm, just as sweet as I remember" he remarks as he licks your essence off his fingers, You sit your wobbly body up to face him, still retreated in his lap.
"You want a taste?" He questions, bringing his fingers to your lips, of course you accept, never missing the opportunity to have his fingers in your mouth. You taste yourself immediately as your tongue comes in contact with his fingers, swirling it in between each finger and Felix watched you with dark lustful eyes. Once yours done he'll crash his lips onto yours, swapping your release on each others tongues, he moves to quickly disregard your shirt as he grunts against your lips. It's safe to say no studying or tutoring happened that day.
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what to know: yang jeongin x hairstylist!reader, sfw, mutual pining, jeongin struggling with self image a little, tiny hints that reader is older than jeongin but not explicitly stated, awkward confessions, humor/sarcasm, banter, flirting, kissing, reader thirsting a bit over jeongin's muscles
inspired by jeongin's new hair. he's just so ugh. i'd love to get my fingers in there
word count: 5.9k
recommended listening: what you waiting for - jeon somi
Someone was going to die.
Whether that ended up being your boss killing you, you strangling Yang Jeongin with your bare hands, or Jeongin simply killing you via cardiac arrest remained to be seen.
All you knew was that no good had ever come from an idol requesting an "emergency appointment" at eleven-thirty at night with absolutely no explanation beyond please don't be mad (on your day off, mind you), and you stood by that.
"Please tell me I'm dreaming," you muttered as you rounded the corner into the private styling room.
"You're dreaming," Jeongin said.
"Don't even play with me right now, Yang Jeongin," you hissed, stalking closer till you were right in front of him, eyes burning into his skull.
"But you told me to...?" he mumbled to himself.
"Now you listen to me?!" you exclaimed, smacking his arm repeatedly (why did it feel like hitting a wall?). "What about me telling you to never touch your hair unless I was present or at least gave you the go-ahead? What about that, huh?! Where were your listening ears then?"
He cringed away from your onslaught but clearly knew he deserved this as he didn't step back to put real distance between you.
"What were you thinking?" You smacked his arm again as he straightened out. "Were you thinking at all?"
"Hey!" Jeongin had the audacity to look offended.
Not offended enough to defend himself, because even he understood that he was standing on very thin ice, but offended enough that his eyebrows pulled together and his mouth dropped open.
"Are you punishing me for something?" you asked then. "Did I say or do something that would make you retaliate like this?"
"What?" he sputtered. "No! No, you didn't do anything."
"Then why?" you stressed. "What could have possibly possessed you?"
His eyes flickered away, debating something for a moment before returning back to your gaze. "Let's call it a midlife crisis."
"You're twenty-five," you deadpanned.
"I'm proactive." He shrugged.
"Yeah, proactive at giving me grey hairs," you scoffed. You sighed, squinting through a wince as you surveyed the damage. "Oh, Jeongin-ssi, just what am I to do with you?"
"Fix me?" he suggested, hands held up in a plead and bottom lip jutting out.
Oh, for heaven's sake.
You hated when he did that.
Not because it was childish. Well... maybe a little because it was childish. But mostly because he knew exactly what his facial expressions were capable of, and he chose to weaponize it.
It was blatantly manipulative. There was a reason people had been calling him a fox for years.
"I can't fix whatever is wrong in your head," you answered dully before sighing. "But let me see what I can do for what's on it."
You stepped away, almost swatting him one more time for good measure but thinking better of it. If it was true that he was having some sort of quarter-life crisis, ridiculous as the notion was, you figured he deserved some mercy and kindness (and it was also starting to make your hand ache).
"Okay," you said, reaching for the styling chair behind him and giving it a light tap. "Hoodie off. Sit."
Jeongin obeyed without argument, which, if nothing else, told you he understood the severity of the situation.
He reached both hands behind his neck and peeled the hoodie over his head in one motion before tossing it onto the empty styling station beside him. Underneath, he wore nothing more than a plain white ribbed tank top, which told you he'd likely rolled straight out of bed, thrown on the nearest pair of sweatpants and jacket, and bolted out the door before anyone could stop him from making his poor decisions your problem.
You blinked.
Since when had his arms gotten so... arm-y?
You saw Jeongin all the time. Well, almost all the time. Schedules changed by the hour, different stylists rotated through depending on the day, and there were stretches where you wouldn't see him for a week or two before suddenly spending every day together again. It shouldn't have been enough time for noticeable changes, and yet somehow, every single reunion came with another unpleasant surprise (the most recent one had been his jawline, and the time before that had been his voice being just a tad bit deeper).
His shoulders had broadened, his upper arms had filled out, even the line where his shoulder met his neck looked more defined than you remembered.
Changbin.
It had to be Changbin's fault.
Or Chan's.
Probably both, actually. Those jerks. Had they no idea what their machinations could lead to?
You turned away before your thoughts could become any more traitorous, suddenly finding your station in desperate need of organization. The combs were already lined up, the clips were already where they belonged, and your spray bottle had not moved since you'd been here a day ago.
Naturally, you adjusted all of them anyway to look busy.
It was called professionalism.
You were a professional.
You had seen shirtless idols before. You had styled people in considerably less clothing than this. A tank top should not have been enough to derail your train of thought.
And yet here you were with an overturned train.
Once you heard the chair creak beneath him and watched him settle through the mirror's reflection, you finally reached for the cape hanging from a hook on the wall. You crossed back over near-blindly, draping it around his shoulders before fastening it securely around his neck, and you couldn't help but silently thank whoever had invented the things.
Bless the cape.
It covered his shoulders. It covered his chest. Most importantly, it covered the evidence of Changbin's gym propaganda.
Now you could focus on the actual disaster sitting atop his head instead of all the other ways Yang Jeongin had decided to change while you weren't looking. That alone was going to require every ounce of your concentration.
"Music?" you asked, reaching for your phone.
It was mostly a formality.
Styling appointments were long. Color corrections, trims, touch-ups, fittings, makeup, all of it took time, and very few people enjoyed sitting in near silence while someone hovered around their head with sharp objects. The members certainly didn't. Some preferred conversation, some preferred doomscrolling until you tapped their hand away because they kept tilting their head at the wrong moment, and some simply liked having something familiar playing in the background.
Jeongin fell into that last category.
"Yeah," he answered. "I added stuff the other day."
You hummed in acknowledgement, your phone connecting to the Bluetooth speaker tucked away beneath the vanity. It paired with a chime, and you navigated to the playlist you'd made for him a while ago.
Every member had one.
It began as a practical solution after the fifteenth argument over who got to hijack the salon speakers, but somewhere along the line the playlists had taken on lives of their own. Songs would appear overnight because someone had been listening to a new artist. Others would disappear after being skipped one too many times. Sometimes you'd add something because it reminded you of them.
It was strangely intimate, now that you thought about it.
Not necessarily in a romantic sense, though it bordered on it sometimes.
You knew Jeongin had been having a bad week if melancholic indie songs started appearing near the top. You knew he was in one of his nostalgic moods whenever old second-generation K-pop found its way into the mix. You didn't know, but you had a feeling, that he was in a particularly good mood whenever love ballads played. At least, he always seemed to be happiest and extra chatty when these were on.
The first notes of a trending sad song drifted softly through the room.
Hm.
Perhaps the crisis was more serious than you thought.
Proceed with caution, your brain screamed.
You picked up your comb, stepped behind him, and finally allowed yourself to really assess the damage.
Your fingers gently combed through the front, lifting sections one by one before letting them fall naturally back into place. Every few seconds you'd separate another piece, studying the (severely split) ends, the weight distribution, the places where he'd decided to keep cutting... and then keep cutting a little more.
Your lips pressed into a thin line.
"What did you use, safety scissors?" you tutted in light horror. Under your breath, you uttered a, "Geez, this kid."
He at least had the decency to look properly chastened, slumping further in the chair till you pinched his ear and forced him back up.
Your attention drifted back to his bangs, gently pressing one section between your fingers before comparing it to the other side. Uneven, of course. And the back was its own catastrophe. That didn't surprise you. Even the best hair stylists in the world would struggle to properly cut the back of their own hair.
Thank goodness for job security.
Out of your periphery, you noticed his stare reflected in the mirror. And you couldn't quite tell for sure, but it seemed to you as if his gaze was not on his hair at all, but on you.
After a moment, he heaved a big sigh, a rather sad one that made you pause.
Having known him for some time now, and being pretty familiar with the emotions of others, you knew this wasn't just him lamenting his own bad decision (though there was probably a bit of that included). This was a sigh from the depths of his very soul.
You found yourself rounding the chair to tilt his chin ever so slightly toward the light, studying his face—his eyes, mostly—rather than his hair, though he would be none-the-wiser.
People had a funny way of telling on themselves through their eyes. You'd spent enough years standing behind salon chairs to learn that the face people presented to the world wasn't always the one they revealed in the mirror.
Jeongin had always been particularly difficult to read.
Not because he hid things well.
Oddly enough, it was the opposite.
Everything seemed to pass over his face for the briefest moment before disappearing again: embarrassment, excitement, irritation, insecurity, amusement. They were all there if you happened to catch them in time, flickering across his features before he—unconsciously or knowingly—tucked them away beneath another joke or an absent shrug.
You'd become pretty good at catching those moments.
This one, however...
There was something sitting just beneath the surface of his expression. Not sadness, exactly. Not even frustration. More... uncertainty. It was not a feeling you often associated with him, if ever. To you, Jeongin was a confident guy. Sometimes to a fault.
Your thumb brushed lightly against his jaw as you turned his face a touch to the left, your gaze flicking between his eyes and the uneven fringe hanging over them.
One of the first things they drilled into you in cosmetology school, somewhere between sanitation protocols and color theory, was that people talked in salon chairs. Some clients wanted to vent about work. Others came armed with neighborhood gossip or relationship drama. There were women who scheduled trims every six weeks just to update you on their grandchildren, businessmen who somehow managed to conduct three meetings while getting a haircut, teenagers whose entire lives unfolded in forty-five minute appointments.
Hairdressers heard everything.
Sometimes whether they wanted to or not.
The trick wasn't getting people to talk.
It was making them feel like they could.
Silence, you'd learned, was just as important as conversation. If you filled every quiet moment with questions, people tended to retreat. If you left enough space, eventually they'd fill it themselves.
Most of the members were exactly like that. They liked to chat once you got them going.
Jeongin...
Jeongin joked.
He teased, you teased him back. Your humor had always connected you, being so similar.
But when it came to himself?
To the things that actually mattered?
Those conversations were rarer. Not because he was closed off. Just because he seemed content letting people assume he was.
You'd learned not to take it personally. Some people processed their thoughts out loud, while others needed to carry them around awhile before deciding whether they were worth sharing.
Jeongin had always struck you as the second kind.
So instead of asking what was wrong, you resumed combing through the uneven strands as though nothing had crossed your mind.
Maybe you were reading too much into it.
Maybe you were projecting onto a twenty-five-year-old who had simply made an impulsive decision with a pair of scissors.
Or maybe, after spending years watching people quietly reinvent themselves one haircut, one color appointment, one comeback at a time, you'd simply gotten decent at recognizing when a haircut wasn't really about the hair.
You reached for the spray bottle sitting beside the mirror, giving the nozzle a few experimental squeezes before misting the front of his hair until the uneven strands began clumping together.
You combed the fringe forward again, studying the silhouette it created before moving to the sides.
"I'm going to have to take quite a bit off," you warned as you sectioned out the front. "There's really no way around it. If I try to preserve the length, it's just going to look... unintentionally messy and asymmetrical."
Jeongin nodded. "I figured."
You picked up your scissors and began carefully evening out the first section.
Snip.
Comb.
Check.
Another snip.
"I do have a couple ideas," you said after a long moment or two of this, mostly thinking out loud as your brain pieced together possibilities. "The length isn't what concerns me. I think I can work with that."
Jeongin watched you through the mirror, one of his feet lightly swinging in a way that brushed your calf every time you moved in front of him.
"I've been wanting to try pushing more of it off your forehead anyway," you continued. "Not every day, just for schedules and shows. We'd have to use more product than you're used to, probably a stronger hold than we've been using, but..." You tipped your head, mentally picturing it. "... I think it could work really well. It would suit you."
"I trust you," he said simply. "Whatever you think is best."
"You say that," you muttered, scowling at the back of his scalp, "and then you immediately go home and butcher what I think is best."
"... I'm sorry, okay?"
The words were quiet enough that you almost wondered if you'd imagined them. You looked up to find Jeongin wasn't smiling anymore. His eyes stayed fixed on his reflection rather than yours. And his jaw was clenched, accentuating things you normally tried to avoid looking at.
"I am," he said again, rubbing absently at his knee beneath the cape. "I'm sorry."
You hesitated, having not expected an apology from him at all. Especially not one delivered as more of a snap than sheepish or amused.
Sure, you ribbed him about this, and you truly were a little annoyed over the whole ordeal. But it was mostly in jest. Though you were loathe to say it considering it was your whole world, it was just hair.
Your head stylist would probably rip a new one into you during group meeting tomorrow (even if it wasn't your fault and Jeongin had blindsided you as well), but your job and livelihood was not truly at risk.
"It's okay, Jeongin-ssi," you said. "I'm mostly joking, you know that."
"I know, I know," he said quietly. "Sorry for getting snippy."
"'Snippy,'" you echoed, snorting. You clicked your scissors twice. "Good one."
"I'm here all week," he said, a light smirk decorating his face.
"Better not be," you warned him. "I have other clients, you know."
"But I'm your favorite, right?" he asked, tilting his head back into your hands to glance at you upside down.
Yes. "After this stunt you just pulled?" you threaded your fingers through his hair and tugged pointedly.
His eyes fluttered shut, and you immediately let go to fix what you just mussed up. Professional!
With a hand on either side of his head, you tilted his face back down, ignoring the sight of him suddenly biting his lip. He would be the death of you—intentionally or not—you swore it.
By the time you'd finished evening everything out, the floor around the chair looked as though a small animal had exploded. Typically, during normal hours, there would be another team member around to sweep and vacuum this up. Maybe you'd get Jeongin to clean it up, it was the least he could do.
You set the scissors down, worked a small amount of styling cream between your palms, and began pushing the front back and away from his forehead. You reached for the stronger gel next, adding just enough to create separation without making it crunchy before locking everything into place with a light mist of hairspray.
Finally, you stepped back to look it over.
"Hm," you hummed, tilting your head back and forth, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu. "This kind of reminds me of Chan-ssi's hair."
Chan had come in a couple weeks past, asking for an edgier look. After a long series of discussions with the glam team and head stylists (as was the proper process), the approved solution had been to go shorter.
"The way it sits off your forehead," you explained, moving around him to adjust one stubborn piece. "Not exactly the cut, just the styling. Do you see it?"
Jeongin nodded, though it was more of an unconscious one as he looked himself over.
You reached forward again, pinching another section into place. "He'd probably have good product recommendations if you wanted to style it yourself. We've basically narrowed his routine down to a science at this point."
"You think it looks good?" He studied himself in the mirror.
"I do." What sort of hairdresser would you be if you didn't like your work?
"... You think I look like Channie-hyung?" he asked then, thoughtful.
"I mean, your hair does, yeah," you said, brows furrowing. "You still look plenty like yourself."
The tiny spark that had appeared in his eyes dimmed just as quickly. It was so subtle that someone who didn't spend half their life staring at faces in mirrors might have missed it.
He tipped his head one way and then the other. His fingers twitched beneath the cape as though he wanted to reach up and touch it but knew better.
"It's still me," he murmured in agreement.
Something about the way he said it made your chest tighten. Like he was resigned to the fact. As though that had been the answer he'd expected all along, but not one he'd wanted.
"What were you hoping for?" you asked, unsure.
Jeongin was quiet for several seconds. When he finally spoke, he didn't look at you. "Do you find me... desirable?"
And how glad you were that you no longer had scissors or anything else in your hand. You feared what might have happened to his precious hair.
Every cell in your body, despite the sudden shock, gave a resounding yes!
"What sort of question..." you breathed, trying to steady the sudden shake in your fingers. "'Desirable?'"
Jeongin still didn't look at you. His eyes stayed steadfastly fixed on his own reflection.
"I don't know," he admitted after a moment, a little frustration creeping into his voice. "I don't know where that came from. Forget the word."
Impossible. "Gladly."
"I just..." He bit his cheek. "When you look at me, do I still seem..."
He trailed off, and you merely waited.
"... young?" he finished.
You leaned one hip against the vanity, crossing your arms loosely as you studied him through the mirror instead of fussing with another stray piece of hair to distract yourself.
"You are young," you pointed out carefully.
"I don't really mean my age." His gaze finally met yours in the reflection. "I mean..." He searched for the words with a small grimace. "When you see me."
He gestured vaguely toward himself.
"Do you still see..." Another pause. "... the kid?"
Jeongin had never been the kid to you, despite your grieved utterances earlier. You'd only joined the team a couple of years back, long after the braces had disappeared and the baby cheeks had started giving way to sharper lines. The version of him you'd met had already been somewhere in that awkward in-between stage where adulthood had arrived before everyone else seemed willing to acknowledge it.
Still, you thought you understood what he meant.
You knew how most of his fandom viewed him.
The maknae.
Baby-bread.
The little brother of the group.
They were affectionate labels more than anything else, but after years of hearing them repeated over and over again, you supposed they had a way of sticking to a person whether they wanted them to or not.
You found yourself nodding slowly.
"I think people have a hard time letting go of the version of someone they met first," you admitted. "Once they decide who you are in their heads, they don't always notice all the little changes happening right in front of them."
Jeongin didn't answer. He just kept looking at himself.
"I just want to be seen as mature," he admitted at last. "I want to be seen as grown, as..." He hesitated long enough that you almost thought he'd abandon the sentence altogether. "... sexy."
He said the word as though it physically pained him, like a curse.
Your jaw felt a little loose, and you feared it might unhinge itself and land somewhere near the pile of freshly-cut hair on the floor.
Perhaps you really were dreaming.
"Believe me," you said after finding your voice again, "there are millions of people out there who see you as sexy, Jeongin-ssi."
The reassurance didn't have the effect you'd expected. If anything, it seemed to disappoint him. His shoulders sagged the slightest bit, and he let out a quiet breath through his nose before finally dragging his gaze away from the mirror to look at you instead.
Not at your reflection.
At you.
"What about you?" he asked.
Your stomach dropped. "... What about me?"
"When you look at me." His voice had gone quiet again, stripped of the joking tone that had carried him through most of the morning. "Do you see me as mature?"
You blinked. Before you could even begin to start sorting through an answer, he spoke again.
"Would you date me?"
Your entire train of thought promptly drove off a cliff again. You watched as it soared through the air, all its cargo spilling out, until it crashed with a boom at the bottom. You had a bad feeling that all that cargo was actually your common sense.
"Those are two totally different questions," you stammered, very aware that if your hands hadn't still been tacky with styling product, they'd probably be sweating.
"With the same answer?" he asked hopefully.
"You've certainly... matured," you said slowly. "And as for that second question... I haven't reviewed my contract in a while, but I'm almost positive there's a section about not fraternizing with the talent."
Way to sidestep the question!
"Forget legalities." He flicked his hand dismissively.
"Um," you hesitated, "I'm a law-abiding citizen...? I don't even jaywalk."
"It's just a hypothetical question," he insisted.
Was it really, though?
"Hypothetically, the economy is terrible and I enjoy remaining employed." A horrible thought suddenly struck you, and your eyes widened. "Are there cameras in here?"
You twisted and turned to look up at the corners of the room where, no, there were no cameras because it was technically a dressing room. You then started patting at the cape over Jeongin's tank top, trying to feel for a mic.
"I promise," he said, trying unsuccessfully to hide how amused he suddenly looked, "I'm not mic'd."
"My trust in your judgement after last night is on the rocks," you replied, still searching. "You'll forgive me if I verify that myself."
Just before you could shove him forward off the chair to start feeling around his waistband for the lump of a mic pack, the cape shifted and Jeongin caught your wrists. The heavy fabric bunched around his forearms as he reached out, his fingers resting lightly around your wrists before lowering your hands back toward your own sides.
"You have my word," he said, his voice calmer than it had been all morning, "this isn't being recorded."
You searched his face for any hint of mischief and found none.
"Then why are you asking me these crazy things?" you whispered, your eyes darting toward the ceiling fearfully one more time anyway. "You're going to make me develop a stress-induced heart condition."
The corners of his mouth twitched. "Is it really that crazy?"
"The questions?" You let out a breathy laugh that sounded much more nervous than amused. "Yes."
He made a face, considering this.
"If what you're looking for is an ego boost," you continued, "I could hand you my phone right now. Open literally any social media app. I promise you won't make it three posts before you find somebody thirsting over you."
Which perhaps revealed too much about how the algorithm curated your content.
"I'm gonna be honest," he said, thankfully not mentioning anything about that. "I'm not really interested in what everyone else thinks."
"... Huh?" you said, despite hearing him and understanding him clear as day.
He looked at you as though the answer were painfully obvious. "Because I'm not trying to date everyone else?"
Which implied he was trying to date you.
Now, you weren't exactly clueless.
What you had with Jeongin, from the very beginning, had been... how should you say this?
Charged?
From the first meeting, you guys had engaged in what you considered 'recreational flirting.' It was fun, it was easygoing, it was low stakes. It had always felt harmless, if a little hollow because it felt a little like an endless road. Because there had been an unspoken understanding that it wasn't actually going anywhere.
Neither of you acknowledged the occasional flutter in your stomach when he'd grin after successfully making you laugh, or the fact that he actively sought you out over the other stylists even when another was available, or how your eyes had developed a habit of seeking him out whenever the group walked into a room.
Those things were... manageable. They stayed neatly tucked away in the little compartment of your brain labeled Absolutely Not Happening (...Unless?).
Not because you had never considered it.
You had considered it plenty.
You had just also considered the very real possibility of losing your job, creating an awkward environment for everyone involved, and having to face the rest of the team after making the world's most questionable career decision. There were certain lines you did not cross when you worked with people, and dating one of your clients was very firmly printed in bold letters somewhere near the top of that list.
So, for everyone's sake, you had simply decided that whatever this was stayed exactly where it was in the do-not-touch box.
It had been working surprisingly well.
And now Yang Jeongin had broken into that compartment with a crowbar.
"The contract?" was all you managed to weakly get out.
"A mere piece of paper?" he replied, leaving off the obvious You think that's enough to stop me? Really?
"I signed a digital copy," you murmured, doing your utmost to wrestle your rapidly unraveling thoughts back into something resembling order.
"So a couple pixels then?" he asked, one eyebrow lifting ever so slightly.
You stared at him for a long moment, and, frankly, the way your heartrate spiked was your own fault. You had done entirely too good of a job. You had absolutely cooked.
The haircut sat exactly how you'd imagined it would. The product caught the light just enough to emphasize the sharper angles of his face, his forehead no longer hidden away behind soft bangs, his eyes somehow looking even larger despite there being less hair around them.
This was your worst nightmare and greatest dream all wrapped into one. A magnum opus, you might call this.
The only thing preserving your professionalism at present was the salon cape wrapped around him. It was difficult to impulsively climb into someone's lap when they looked like a disjointed head.
Thank God for hygiene and cleanliness.
"Why do you insist on putting me in these tough spots?" you sighed.
"I didn't think this one would be that tough." He frowned at you, genuine confusion softening his features.
A tiny, disbelieving laugh escaped before you could stop it. "Once again," you said, pinching the bridge of your nose, "I have to ask... were you thinking at all?"
"I thought about it for a long time, actually," he balked. "It's all I've been thinking about. You're all I've been thinking about."
Oh.
Oh, hell.
Every sensible thought you'd painstakingly attempted to gather over the last several minutes packed up their little briefcases, wished you the best of luck, and walked clean out of your brain.
You didn't even realize you'd moved until you were standing between his knees.
Jeongin blinked up at you, clearly startled by the sudden lack of distance.
"You..." he started carefully.
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Don't say anything else."
"Why?"
"Because if you keep talking, my common sense might come back."
He looked adorably confused by that. Unfortunately, you found confused Jeongin almost as endearing as smug Jeongin.
Your hands found the fastening at the back of his neck.
Rrrrip.
The Velcro came undone, the cape slipping from his shoulders and sliding into an unceremonious heap on the floor.
His wide eyes followed it just for a millisecond before lifting back up to yours.
And that's when you kissed him.
It was the culmination of every lingering glance caught in mirrors, every teasing comment that had simultaneously frustrated and titillated you, every almost that had quietly accumulated between styling appointments and late-night schedules until there simply wasn't room for another one.
Jeongin made the softest sound of surprise against your lips before instinct took over. His hands found your waist, and you could feel him start to rise from the chair on pure reflex, nearly taking you with him.
"Mm mm," you refused against his lips, one hand pressing firmly against his shoulder to keep him seated.
He didn't fight back, but he was considerably more upright in the chair than he had been before, craning his neck to be more level with you. You could feel the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth against yours.
Trust him.
Trust Yang Jeongin to adorably dimple-smile into his first kiss with you.
One of your hands came up to cup his jaw, and you could feel him slightly cringe away from the stickiness you'd yet to wipe off, but he didn't get far before deciding he didn't care.
Your other hand drifted almost absentmindedly to his shoulder, a shoulder you'd been thankfully able to ignore till this point.
Your fingertips brushed over the fabric of his tank top, feeling the solid warmth beneath it before they slid higher, catching briefly on the layered necklaces resting against his collarbone. One of the pendants had twisted sideways sometime during the session, and without thinking you straightened it.
He hummed sweetly against your lips to the rhythm of 'Thank you.'
Your hand at his jaw eventually found its way into his freshly styled hair, and the product gave beneath your fingers.
Some detached, horrified little corner of your brain registered the fact that you were ruining your own artwork.
The rest of you couldn't have cared less.
Your fingers threaded through the shorter strands, feeling them catch slightly against your knuckles as you gently combed them back, only to have them spring forward again when you loosened your grip.
Jeongin made another soft sound against your lips, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, his forehead bumping lightly against yours as he chased after you when you pulled back only an inch for air.
His hands, which had settled carefully at your waist as though still asking permission even after you'd kissed him first, finally grew bolder. They slid around to the small of your back, fingertips pressing gently through the fabric of your shirt before traveling higher, slow enough that you could feel every inch of their path. There was a hesitation to the movement.
He wasn't uncertain.
He was making sure you wanted this just as much as he did.
You answered by kissing him again.
Any remaining restraint he'd been clinging to seemed to dissolve beneath the reassurance. One hand spread comfortably between your shoulder blades while the other wandered only as far as propriety and the awkward angle of the styling chair allowed, his thumb absentmindedly tracing small arcs against your side.
You'd never realized how warm he was.
Or perhaps you'd always known, years spent fussing around his face and neck putting you close enough to notice, but never close enough to linger on it.
Now you felt everything.
The faint scent of whatever body wash he'd used the day before, only partially masked by hairspray and styling cream. The cool brush of his necklaces whenever you leaned closer, the pendants occasionally catching against the back of your hand. The way his shoulders seemed even broader without the cape hiding them, your palm naturally settling there before drifting lazily over the firm line where his shoulder met his neck.
Your thumb swept across the edge of his collarbone.
He inhaled quietly, and your lips curved. "Ticklish?"
He answered by burying his face briefly against the side of your neck, and you felt his laugh more than you heard it. Such a pretty sound.
The laughter quickly died as he found a newfound interest in tracing his lips against your pulse point. The hand behind your shoulder blades slowly pushed and pushed, silently telling you that he needed you closer, until you had no choice but to support yourself on the chair somehow.
While one of your legs bent at the knee and rested on one side of his thighs, the other resolutely stayed grounded on the floor. You were a bit up in the clouds, but not enough to forget this was your place of work. And though you had established and reaffirmed that there were no cameras, that did not stop the slight edge to your nerves that told you to be on the lookout for any colleagues coming in on their day off.
The hand he'd been using to keep you steady on your hip slipped down to squeeze your thigh pointedly, pleased with its placement. It slid higher and higher until he met the crease of your work pants, settling there permanently.
Had his hands always been this big?
He pulled back after making a particularly squelchy sounding kiss under your jaw, lips pink and cheeks pink and ears pink. You glanced over your shoulder at the mirror, finding yourself in similar straits. When you turned back to face him, he was merely staring up at you, breathing heavily.
Your eyes drifted up to the mess you'd made. All this because he'd freaked out over the way people—namely you—viewed him. You had to make sure it didn't happen again.
"So this crisis..." you started, clearing your throat.
"You know what?" he cut in, tugging you closer again. "We don't have to talk about that anymore. I think I got my answers."
"Hey," you resisted his pull, though it took tremendous effort both mentally and physically, "I need to make sure you don't do anything drastic like this again. Last thing I need is you buzzing everything off without warning."
"So long as you keep kissing me, that's not going to be a problem," he assured, smiling cheekily.
And, really, it was only logical (a reminder that all your logical reasoning and common sense skills had vacated the premises).
From a professional standpoint, it was in your best interest to continue kissing him. It was in the best interest of your job, because you would prefer never to experience a damage-control emergency again. It was in the best interest of his career, because you were fairly certain the stylist team would collectively expire if they received another message that began with Jeongin has made a decision without consulting anyone.
Therefore, by all accounts, you were simply doing your duty.
You were a hero, really.
A very irresponsible, contract-breaking hero.
And with that perfectly sound reasoning in mind, your mouth was back on his, all remaining thoughts of professionalism, common sense, and consequences temporarily forgotten somewhere beneath the pile of hair and cape on the floor.
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