#leehan

This time when you pull away again, you catch the exact moment confusion shifts into realization. His eyes darken considerably, pupils blown wide as he stares at you. The hand on your back flexes, fingers pressing into your skin even through your shirt.

"Are you..." he starts, voice already rough and lower than usual. He swallows hard, and you watch his throat work. "Are you doing that on purpose?"

The barely restrained frustration in his tone sends heat pooling in your stomach. You try to look innocent, biting back a smile. "Doing what?"

Sungho’s jaw clenches, and you see his chest rise and fall with a deep breath, a familiar sign of him trying to steady himself. He doesn't say anything for a moment, just watches you with those intense dark eyes, and you can practically see him trying to maintain control.

Then slowly, deliberately, he leans back in. Both hands come up to frame your face, and the way he holds you is almost possessive. His thumb traces your bottom lip, and his eyes track the movement with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

"Don't," he murmurs, and his voice has dropped even lower. It's not a request—it's a warning. "Don't pull away again."

But of course, you do.

The sound he makes is devastating, somewhere between a groan and your name, rough and frustrated. In one smooth movement, his hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers tangling firmly in your hair. It's not painful, but definitely controlling. His other hand grips your hip hard enough that you feel the heat of his palm through the fabric.

"I'm trying," he breathes out, and you can hear how strained his voice is, "to be patient with you."

He pulls you closer—or maybe pushes himself closer, you're not sure—until there's no space between you at all. You can feel the heat radiating off him, feel his heart racing against your chest, feel the tension coiled tight in his muscles.

“But you keep—” He breaks himself off with a sharp breath, the words failing him. He leans in, resting his forehead against yours, eyes falling shut as if he needs the contact to steady himself, as if proximity is the only thing keeping him anchored. When he opens them again, the look on his face is raw, unguarded, almost desperate.  “Do you have any idea,” he asks quietly, voice strained, “what you’re doing to me?”

His hand in your hair tightens just slightly, angling your head back. The movement is controlled but barely, and you can see the exact moment his carefully maintained composure starts to crack.

"One more time," he warns, voice barely above a whisper but somehow more intense for it. His lips hover just barely above yours, so close you can feel his breath. "Pull away one more time and I won't be gentle anymore."

It should probably intimidate you, but instead it sends a thrill down your spine. You can feel him trembling slightly with the effort of restraint, can see the war between his natural control and his desire written plainly across his face.

"I'm serious," he continues, and now his lips brush against yours with every word. "I'm trying so hard to be good, to take my time, but you're making it impossible."

His hand slides from your hip to your lower back, then lower still, pulling you even more firmly against him. The kiss he gives you then is harder, more demanding, his tongue sliding against yours with clear intent. When his teeth catch your bottom lip, you gasp, and he takes full advantage, kissing you deeper until you're dizzy with it.

He pulls back just enough to speak, and his voice is absolutely wrecked. "So be good for me," he murmurs against your lips, and the please is unspoken but clear in his tone. "Stop teasing me, got it sweetheart?"

When he kisses you again, it's with single-minded focus, like kissing you is the only thing that matters in the world. His hand tightens in your hair, the other sliding under the hem of your shirt just enough that his fingers brush bare skin. The touch makes you shiver, and you feel him smile against your lips.

"That's better," he breathes, sounding almost relieved. "Much better."

This time, you don't even think about pulling away.

ˋ ⌞⋮ RIWOO .ᐟ⌝ ˎˊ˗

Riwoo kisses with complete focus and surprising intensity hidden beneath a gentle exterior. His hands are soft where they rest on your waist, his lips moving against yours with careful attention, like he's trying to get every detail just right.

You almost feel bad for what you're about to do.

Almost.

When he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, you pull back just slightly. His eyes flutter open immediately, wide and confused, lips still parted. "Did I... did I do something wrong?" he asks softly, concern evident in his voice.

"No," you assure him quickly, leaning back in. "You're perfect."

He relaxes at that, a shy smile crossing his face before you kiss him again. This time he's a little more confident, his fingers curling slightly into the fabric of your shirt. You feel him sigh contentedly against your lips, and that's when you pull away again.

"Oh," he breathes out, and you can see him trying to figure out what's happening. His eyebrows furrow adorably, head tilting like he's solving a puzzle. "Are you... do you need a break? We can—"

You cut him off with another kiss, and this time you feel the exact moment he realizes what you're doing. His sharp intake of breath, the way his fingers suddenly grip your waist a little tighter, the slight tremor that runs through him.

When you pull back the third time, his reaction is completely different.

“You’re teasing me,” he says, the words barely audible, more confession than accusation. His ears have gone pink, heat creeping up his neck, but his eyes give him away—there’s a new intensity there, a shadow beneath the softness you know so well. “You're doing this on purpose.”

Before you can respond, he's leaning back in, and this time his kiss is less careful. His hands slide from your waist to your back, pulling you closer with more force than you expected from him. When your lips meet, you can feel the desperation already building in the way he kisses you—deeper, more insistent, like he's trying to keep you from pulling away through sheer determination.

But you do it anyway.

"Please," he breathes out, and the sound goes straight through you. His voice is shaky, strained. "Please don't— I can't—"

He cuts himself off, pressing his forehead against yours. You can feel him trembling, feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest. When you look at him, his eyes are squeezed shut, jaw clenched like he's trying to compose himself.

"This is torture," he whispers, and there's a whine in his voice that makes your stomach flip. "You're torturing me."

His hands are restless now, one sliding up your back, fingers splaying across your shoulder blade, the other moving to your hip and squeezing. You've never seen him like this—usually so controlled, so precise in his movements, now barely holding himself together.

"Riwoo," you murmur, and his eyes snap open.

The look he gives you is devastating, pupils blown wide, lips swollen and red from all the kissing, cheeks warm with colour. It’s not just desire, but a soft, aching plea tangled with a frustration you’ve never seen on him before, unfamiliar and vulnerable, like he’s losing control that it both unsettles and exposes him.

"I need—" he starts, then stops, swallowing hard. His voice drops lower, rougher. "I need you to stop pulling away. I don't... I can't think when you do that."

To prove his point, he kisses you again, and this time there's nothing gentle about it. His hand comes up to cup the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as he angles your face exactly how he wants it. His other hand slips under the hem of your shirt, and the feeling of his palm against your bare skin makes you gasp.

He takes advantage immediately, deepening the kiss, and you feel him shaking with the effort of maintaining some semblance of control. His thumb traces patterns on your skin that make you shiver, and he makes this small sound in the back of his throat that's pure need.

When you start to pull back again, his grip tightens instantly.

"No," he says firmly, and the command in his voice surprises both of you. His eyes widen slightly, like he can't believe he just said that, but he doesn't take it back. "Stay. Please stay."

The "please" softens it, but there's still an edge of desperation that makes your heart race. He's looking at you like the thought of you pulling away again might actually break him.

"I'm trying so hard to be good," he confesses, voice cracking slightly. His forehead drops to your shoulder, and you can feel his breath hot against your neck. "But you keep— every time you pull away, I—"

He doesn't finish the sentence. Instead, he presses a kiss to your neck, then another, and you feel his teeth graze your skin lightly. The hand in your hair tightens, and suddenly he's pulling your head back gently, exposing more of your neck to his lips.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice dropped so low it feels almost dangerous. “To see me lose control.”

His kisses trail up your neck, along your jaw, until his lips are hovering over yours again. He's breathing hard, chest heaving, and you can see the internal war playing out across his face—the Riwoo who’s always gentle, always careful, pressed up against a need that’s sharper, more urgent, tugging insistently at his restraint.

"Well, congratulations," he whispers, and then he's kissing you again with an intensity that steals your breath. "You won."

This time when his tongue slides against yours, when his hands grip you tighter, when he presses impossibly closer, you don't even think about pulling away. You couldn't if you wanted to, not with how he's holding you, kissing you like he's been starving for it.

"No more teasing," he breathes between kisses, and it's still soft, still Riwoo, but there's steel underneath it now. "I can't take any more. Please."

And the way he says please—broken, desperate and so, so honest—makes you want to give him everything he asks for.

ˋ ⌞⋮ JAEHYUN .ᐟ⌝ ˎˊ˗

Jaehyun kisses like he's enjoying every second of it—which, knowing him, he absolutely is. There's a smile on his lips even as they move against yours, his hands warm and secure on your waist, thumbs tracing idle patterns that make you want to melt into him.

His hair has gotten longer recently, falling into his face as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, and you can't resist reaching up to run your fingers through it. He makes a pleased sound at that, leaning into your touch.

That's when you pull away.

His eyes open slowly, still half-lidded and hazy, a confused smile playing on his lips. "Hm?" 

You just smile innocently and lean back in, kissing him again before he can question it. He responds immediately, enthusiastically, one hand sliding up your back. But just as he's really getting into it, you pull away again.

This time, his eyes sharpen with understanding.

“Oh,” he says, the confusion easing as his smile shifts into a knowing curve. “Oh—I get it now.”

Before you can say anything, he's laughing that bright, delighted laugh of his. "You're messing with me right now. You're actually messing with me."

"I don't know what you mean," you try, but he's already shaking his head.

"Okay, okay," he says, still grinning. "So we're playing games? I love games."

He leans back in, but this time when you try to pull away, his hand comes up to cup your jaw, holding you in place firmly enough that you can't escape. His kiss is deeper this time, more purposeful, and you feel him smile against your lips.

Then he pulls away first.

"How does it feel?" he asks, voice teasing. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip as he watches your reaction with obvious amusement. "Not so fun when it happens to you, right?"

Two can play this game, apparently.

He kisses you again, and just when you're sinking into it, he breaks away with a playful smirk. "Oops."

"Jaehyun—"

"What?" He's grinning fully now, eyes sparkling with mischief. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? To play around?"

His hair falls forward into his face as he leans closer, and you reach up to brush it back without thinking. His expression shifts slightly at the touch, eyes darkening just a fraction, but the smile remains.

"You keep touching my hair," he observes, voice a little lower now. "Do you like it longer?"

Before you can answer, he's kissing you again, and this time you can feel the teasing energy start to shift more intensely. His fingers tangle in your hair, mimicking your earlier action, and when you gasp softly, he makes a satisfied sound.

You pull away again—you can't help it, it's too fun—and this time his reaction is different.

"Okay," he says, and his voice has lost some of that playful edge. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face, and you watch his jaw clench slightly. "Okay, you need to stop doing that."

"Why?" you ask innocently, and his eyes flash.

"Because," he says, leaning in close enough that his lips brush against yours as he speaks, "I'm trying really hard to play along and be fun about this, but you're making it really difficult."

His hair falls forward again, tickling your face, and he makes a frustrated sound. In one smooth motion, he reaches back and gathers his hair, tying it up into a small ponytail with the hair tie he keeps on his wrist. The movement makes his arms flex, his jaw set in concentration, and you can't help but stare.

He notices, of course. The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Yeah,” he murmurs, gaze dropping to your lips. “You like that, don’t you, princess?”

He kisses you again, and with his hair out of the way, it's different—more intense, more focused. His hands grip your waist tighter, pulling you closer, and you can feel the shift in his energy. The playfulness hasn’t disappeared, but beneath it is a seriousness that wasn’t there before, an insistence that asks instead of teases, that wants instead of jokes.

When you try to pull away this time, he doesn't let you.

"Nuh-uh," he murmurs against your lips. "My turn now."

His hand slides to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he kisses you deeper. There's a confidence in the way he takes control, like he's done playing your game and has decided to start his own. His other hand slips under the hem of your shirt, palm hot against your skin, and you feel him smile when you shiver.

"See, the thing is," he says, pulling back just enough to speak, "I was having fun letting you tease me. It was cute." His thumb traces your jawline as his eyes lock onto yours. "But now I'm thinking about all the ways I could tease you back."

To prove his point, he kisses along your jaw, down to your neck, and you feel his teeth graze your skin lightly. Your hands come up to grip his shoulders, and one of them tangles in his ponytail without thinking, tugging slightly.

The sound he makes is somewhere between a groan and a laugh.

"Oh, so you can pull my hair but I can't—" He doesn't finish the sentence. Instead, his hand comes up to thread through your hair, gripping gently and tilting your head back. "That's not very fair, is it?"

His lips return to your neck, kissing and biting softly, and you can feel him smiling against your skin when you gasp. “There you go,” he murmurs, lips brushing your skin. “That’s the reaction I was looking for.”

When he pulls back to look at you, his eyes are darker than before, pupils blown wide. "No more pulling away," he says, and it's not quite a command but not quite a request either. His hand tightens slightly in your hair. "You had your fun. Now let me have mine."

He kisses you again, and this time there's no teasing, no games. Just intensity, heat and the feeling of his body pressed against yours. His hands are everywhere—your waist, your back, sliding up to cup your face, back down to grip your hips.

When you instinctively try to pull back just slightly, probably out of habit more than anything, his grip tightens immediately.

"What did I just say?" he asks, but he's smiling even as he says it. He presses his forehead against yours, breathing hard. "You're going to be the death of me, you know that?"

His hair tie has come slightly loose, a few strands falling free to frame his face, and without thinking you reach up to fix it. He catches your hand, bringing it to his lips instead.

"Or," he says, eyes glinting with mischief again, "you could just take it out. Since you seem so interested in my hair."

When you do, his hair falls forward, messy and perfect, and he shakes his head slightly to settle it. The movement is casual, but the way he's looking at you is anything but.

"There," he says, leaning in close again. His voice drops lower, more intimate. "Now you can touch it all you want."

And when he kisses you this time—deep, slow and purposeful, his fingers threading through your hair to mirror your touch in his—you forget all about teasing him.

You forget about everything except the way he's holding you, kissing you, like he plans to make up for every single time you pulled away.

"See?" he murmurs against your lips, and you can feel his smile. "Told you I'd be fun.”

ˋ ⌞⋮ TAESAN .ᐟ⌝ ˎˊ˗

Making out with Taesan is always intense. He doesn't do anything halfway. When he kisses you, it's with complete focus, like nothing else in the world exists. His hands are firm on your waist, his lips moving against yours with purpose and confidence that makes your head spin.

So really, you should've known better than to tease him.

But you do it anyway.

The first time you pull away, his eyes open slowly, dark and slightly unfocused. He doesn't say anything, just looks at you with a quiet question in his gaze. When you lean back in without explanation, he accepts it, one hand coming up to cup your jaw as he deepens the kiss.

The second time you pull away, you feel the change immediately.

His fingers tighten on your waist—not painfully, but noticeably. His eyes are sharper now when they meet yours, more alert. He's figured it out.

"What are you doing?" His voice is low, quiet, but there's an edge to it.

"Nothing," you say, but you can't quite hide your smile.

Taesan's jaw clenches. He doesn't move for a moment, just watches you with that intense gaze that always makes you feel like he can see right through you. Then, slowly, he leans back in. His hand slides from your jaw to the back of your neck, grip firm and possessive.

"Don't," he says simply, right before his lips meet yours.

This kiss is different, harder, more demanding. His tongue sweeps against yours with clear intent, his hand tightening in warning when he feels you start to pull back. But you do it anyway, breaking the kiss with a soft laugh.

The look he gives you could melt steel.

"You think this is a joke?" His voice is dangerously quiet, and the tone in his voice makes heat pool in your stomach. He's not smiling. Not even a little bit.

"Maybe a little," you admit.

Wrong answer.

In one fluid motion, Taesan shifts, and suddenly you're the one being pressed back against the couch. He's hovering over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other still gripping your hip. His hair falls forward slightly, shadowing his eyes, and the intensity of his gaze pins you in place.

"You want to play games with me?" he asks, voice still low, a controlled tone that somehow feels more threatening than if he were actually angry. "Okay. Let's play."

He leans down, but instead of kissing your lips, he goes for your neck. His mouth is hot against your skin, teeth grazing lightly before he soothes the spot with his tongue. When you gasp, you feel him smile against your throat.

"What's wrong?" he murmurs, lips brushing your skin as he speaks. "You can dish it out but can't take it?"

His hand slides under your shirt, palm flat against your stomach, and you feel him trace slow patterns on your skin. It's deliberate, teasing, and completely unfair. When you try to squirm, his grip on your hip tightens, holding you still.

"Stay," he commands softly, and the authority in his voice makes you obey without thinking.

He kisses up your neck, along your jaw, getting closer and closer to your lips but never quite getting there. When you turn your head to try to kiss him, he pulls back just enough to stay out of reach, and the smirk on his face is absolutely infuriating.

"Not so fun, is it?" he asks, voice laced with dark amusement. "Being teased?"

"Taesan—"

"What?" He tilts his head, looking at you with false innocence that doesn't match the heat in his eyes at all. "I'm just doing what you did to me. That's fair, right?"

His hand slides higher under your shirt, thumb brushing just below your ribs, and you arch into the touch without meaning to. He notices, of course. He notices everything.

"So sensitive," he observes, and there's satisfaction in his tone. His hand moves back down, tracing patterns that make you shiver. "I barely even touched you."

When he finally kisses you again, it's overwhelming. Deep and consuming, like he's trying to prove a point. His body presses close to yours, and you can feel the tension wound tight beneath his skin, the barely restrained control as he holds himself back.

You try to pull away—instinct, maybe, or maybe you just want to see what he'll do—and his reaction is immediate.

His hand flies up to grip your chin, firmly turning your face back to his. "Don't," he warns, and his voice has gone even lower, rough with frustration. "I'm not playing anymore."

There’s a dangerous edge in his gaze now, sharp enough to steal your breath. He’s always been intense, but this is different. This is Taesan with his patience worn down, his restraint fraying, control slipping just enough to show what he’s been holding back.

"You wanted my attention?" he asks, his thumb pressing against your bottom lip. "You have it. All of it. So stop running away."

He kisses you again, harder this time, almost punishing. His hand slips back into your hair, fingers curling with just enough force to steal a breath from you, and he doesn’t hesitate, using the moment to pull you closer, to deepen the kiss until the world tilts and everything feels hazy around the edges. His other hand grips your waist, thumb pressing into your hip bone hard enough that you know you'll feel it tomorrow.

"This is what you do to me," he breathes against your lips, and for the first time you hear how affected he actually is. His voice is ragged, strained. "You drive me crazy. You know that?"

His forehead drops to yours, and you can feel him trembling slightly with the effort of maintaining control. His breathing is heavy, chest heaving against yours.

"Every time you pulled away," he continues, voice barely above a whisper, "all I could think about was how to make you stay. How to make you want me so badly you couldn't even think about leaving."

He pulls back just enough to look at you, and the raw intensity in his gaze steals your breath. "So here's what's going to happen," he says, voice dropping into that commanding tone again. "You're going to stay right here. You're not going to pull away. And you're going to let me kiss you until I'm satisfied. Understood?"

It's not really a question.

When you nod, his expression softens slightly. "Good girl," he murmurs, and the praise sends warmth flooding through you.

This time when he kisses you, it's slower but no less intense. Thorough. Possessive. Like he's claiming you with every brush of his lips, every slide of his tongue. His hands roam your body with purpose, touching, gripping and holding like he's trying to memorize every inch of you.

When he finally pulls back—minutes or hours later, you've lost track—his lips are swollen and red, his eyes dark and satisfied.

"You're so pretty," he says, voice still rough. His thumb traces your jaw gently, a stark contrast to how tightly he was holding you moments ago. 

He settles beside you, pulling you against his chest, and you can still feel his heart racing. His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining, and he brings it to his lips.

"Next time you want to tease me," he says quietly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, "remember how this ended."

It's a warning and a promise all at once.

And the really dangerous part? You're already thinking about doing it again, just to see what happens.

ˋ ⌞⋮ LEEHAN .ᐟ⌝ ˎˊ˗

Leehan kisses the way he does everything else—with a calm, unhurried confidence that somehow makes your heart race more than any urgency could. His hands are gentle on your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones as his lips move against yours with patient precision.

There’s an almost meditative quality to it—how he takes his time, as if he has all day to learn the shape of your mouth. It’s the same focused attention he gives anything that holds his interest—steady, observant, fully present.

Which is exactly why you're curious to see what happens when you disrupt that carefully maintained composure.

When you pull away the first time, he doesn't react much. Just opens his eyes slowly, looking at you with that serene expression he always has, like nothing in the world could disturb his peace. He tilts his head slightly, a small questioning smile on his lips, but he doesn't say anything. Just waits.

You lean back in, and he accepts it without hesitation, picking up exactly where you left off. His kiss is deeper this time, more intentional, and you feel one of his hands slide to the back of your neck, fingers spreading through your hair.

Then you pull away again.

This time, you catch the faintest flicker in his eyes. Not confusion, not frustration, more like… focused interest. Like he’s watching an experiment unfold and quietly filing away observations.

"Interesting," he murmurs, voice still soft and even. His hand stays where it is in your hair, not gripping, just resting. "Are you testing something?"

The casual way he asks it makes you laugh. Leave it to Leehan to treat this like a curious phenomenon rather than actual teasing.

"Maybe," you admit.

He hums thoughtfully, eyes scanning your face with that focused attention he usually reserves for his fish tanks. "I see." Then, simply : "Continue."

It's such a Leehan response that you can't help but smile as you kiss him again. This time his hand tightens just slightly in your hair—barely noticeable, but you feel it. When you pull away for the third time, you're watching for his reaction.

His eyes open slowly, and there’s a shift you can’t ignore. The calm is still there, carefully maintained, but beneath it simmers a heat that hadn’t surfaced before. He looks at you for a long, deliberate moment without saying a word, and the silence feels heavy, charged, far more unsettling than anything he could have spoken.

"Three times," he observes quietly. His thumb traces your bottom lip with deliberate slowness. "You've pulled away three times now."

"Have I?" You try to sound innocent.

"Mm." His gaze drops to your lips, and you watch his jaw tighten almost imperceptibly. "You have."

He leans in again, but this time it's different. Slower. More purposeful. His eyes stay open, locked on yours until the last possible second, and when his lips finally meet yours, the kiss is deeper than before. Consuming. His hand in your hair shifts, fingers curling just enough to keep you in place without being forceful.

When you try to pull away this time, you realize you can't move far. His grip isn't painful, isn't even really tight, but it's firm. Decisive. And the message is clear : he's done letting you control this.

He breaks the kiss himself, but stays close enough that his lips brush yours when he speaks. “I’ve been patient with you,” he murmurs, voice low and even, controlled that it feels almost mesmerizing. There’s an undercurrent to it now, a quiet shift that makes your stomach tighten, that sends awareness sparking through you. His gaze stays locked on yours as he adds, just as softly, “But I think we’re past that.”

His free hand lifts to cradle your face, the touch gentle but unmistakably claiming, a quiet possessiveness threaded through the softness of the gesture. "Do you know what happens when you test someone's patience?" he asks, and it's clearly rhetorical because he continues without waiting for an answer. "You find out exactly how much control they actually have."

He kisses you again, and this time there's no mistaking the intensity behind it. It's still controlled, still measured, but you can feel the restraint it's taking. His tongue slides against yours with clear intent, and the hand on your face angles your head exactly where he wants it.

"I have a lot of patience," he murmurs against your lips. "But even I have limits."

When his hand slides down from your face to your throat, his thumb against your pulse point, you gasp softly. You feel him smile.

"Your heart is racing," he observes, voice still that same quiet, almost clinical tone. But his thumb traces circles on your neck that are anything but clinical. "Interesting. Are you nervous?"

You shake your head, and his smile grows slightly.

"No? Then what?" His eyes search yours with genuine curiosity, edged with a darker intent. "Excited? Anticipating what I'll do next?"

He’s analyzing you even now, reading every reaction—and somehow that makes it worse.

"Let me tell you what I think," he says, leaning in close enough that his breath fans across your lips. "I think you wanted to see what would happen if you pushed me. You wanted to know what I'd be like when I stop being patient."

His hand tightens just slightly around your throat—not restricting, just present, just enough to remind you it's there. "Would you like to see?"

Before you can answer, he's kissing you again, and it's completely overwhelming. Still controlled, still measured, but intense in a way that makes your head spin. His hand stays on your throat, feeling every gasp, every quickening of your pulse, while his other hand finally releases your hair to slide down your back.

When he pulls you closer, you can feel his heart beating against your chest, faster than usual but still steady.

"You're not pulling away now," he notes, pulling back just enough to speak. There's satisfaction in his tone, quiet but unmistakable. "Why is that?"

His hand slides under your shirt, palm flat against your lower back, and the skin-to-skin contact makes you shiver. He notices immediately, of course he does. He notices everything.

"Cold?" he asks, but there's a knowing look in his eyes that says he knows exactly why you shivered, and it has nothing to do with temperature.

"Leehan—" you start, but he cuts you off with another kiss, this one somehow even deeper than the last.

"Shh," he soothes between kisses, hand moving in slow circles on your back. "No more talking. No more pulling away. Just focus on this."

When his hand slides higher up your back, fingers tracing your spine, you arch into him without meaning to. His other hand tightens on your throat in response just for a second, just enough to make you gasp, before relaxing again.

"See?" he murmurs, and there's a smugness in his tone now. "You're much better when you stay still. When you let me do what I want."

He kisses along your jaw, down to your neck, and you feel his teeth graze your skin lightly. "I could do this for hours," he says conversationally, like he's commenting on the weather. "Just finding all the spots that make you react. Learning exactly what you like."

"But first," he says, pulling back to look at you again, "you're going to stay right here and let me kiss you properly. No more games. No more pulling away." His thumb brushes across your throat, feeling your pulse jump. "Can you do that for me?"

It's phrased as a question, but the look in his eyes makes it clear there's only one acceptable answer.

When you nod, his smile is small but genuinely pleased. "Good," he says softly, leaning in again. "That's very good."

And when he kisses you this time—slow, deep and absolutely devastating—you understand exactly what he meant about patience. Because Leehan doesn't rush anything. He takes his time, thorough and methodical, until you forget you ever wanted to pull away in the first place.

Until all you can think about is how to get him to never stop.

ˋ ⌞⋮ WOONHAK .ᐟ⌝ ˎˊ˗

Kissing Woonhak is sweet and a little clumsy in the most endearing way. He's still figuring things out, but he makes up for any lack of experience with sheer enthusiasm. His hands rest nervously on your waist, and you can feel how fast his heart is beating when you're this close.

So of course, you decide to make it worse for him.

The first time you pull away, his eyes fly open immediately, wide and startled like a deer in headlights. "Wait, what— did I mess up?" His voice pitches up slightly in panic. "Was that bad? I can do better, I promise, just—"

"You're fine," you assure him with a laugh, leaning back in before he can spiral further.

He relaxes instantly, shoulders dropping as he lets out a relieved breath. "Okay, okay good, because I've been practicing— I mean, not practicing, but like, thinking about— you know what, never mind." His ears are already bright red as he kisses you again, and you can feel him smiling against your lips.

That's when you pull away the second time.

"Okay, what—" He blinks at you, confused. Then his eyes narrow slightly in suspicion. "Wait. Are you doing that on purpose?"

You try to keep a straight face. "Doing what?"

"THAT!" He gestures wildly between you. "The pulling away! You're messing with me right now!"

When you don't deny it, his mouth drops open in betrayal. "Oh my god, you ARE! I can't believe— I was so worried I was doing something wrong!"

"You weren't," you say, grinning now.

"Then why—" He stops, processing, and then his expression shifts between embarrassment and indignation. "You're TEASING me? Seriously?"

He runs both hands through his hair, laughing in disbelief. "I'm already so nervous and you're just— wow. Okay. That's how we're playing this?"

Before you can respond, he's leaning back in with renewed determination. "Fine. You know what? I'm not gonna let it get to me. I'm just gonna— we're just gonna kiss and it's gonna be great and you're not gonna—"

You pull away again.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?" His voice cracks spectacularly, and he falls back against the couch dramatically, covering his face with his hands. "This is torture! Actual torture! I'm being tortured!"

You're laughing now, and he peeks at you through his fingers. "You think this is funny? My heart can't take this kind of stress! I'm too young!"

"You're so dramatic," you say, but you're smiling.

"I'M dramatic?" He sits back up, pointing at you accusingly. "You're the one playing mind games! Do you know how hard it is to focus when you keep— when you—" He gestures vaguely, too flustered to finish the sentence.

His whole face is red now, and he's fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "Every time you pull away, I think I did something wrong and my brain just goes—" He makes an explosion sound effect with his hands. "Like that. Complete malfunction."

"Want me to stop?" you ask, taking pity on him.

"YES! No! I don't know!" He groans, flopping against the couch again. "This is so confusing. You're so confusing. Why are you like this?"

After a moment of internal crisis, he sits back up with a determined look. "Okay. Okay, I'm gonna try one more time, and you have to promise not to pull away because I don't think my heart can handle it."

"I promise," you say, and he eyes you suspiciously.

"Really?"

"Really."

He studies your face for a long moment, clearly trying to determine if you're trustworthy. Finally, he nods. "Okay. But if you do it again, I'm— I don't know what I'll do, but it'll be something! A consequence! There will be consequences!"

The threat would be more effective if his voice wasn't shaking slightly and if he didn't look absolutely adorable while making it.

When he leans in this time, he's extra careful. His hand comes up to cup your face gently, and he pauses just before your lips meet. "You promised," he whispers, and for all the control in his posture, there’s a fragile note beneath it, almost pleading, almost vulnerable.

"I promised," you confirm.

This kiss is different—slower, more confident now that he's not worried about you disappearing. His other hand finds yours, fingers intertwining and squeezing like he's anchoring himself. When you don't pull away, you feel him relax completely, even smiling against your lips.

After a few moments, he pulls back himself, and the smile on his face is so bright and genuine it makes your heart squeeze. "See? We can do this! When you're not being evil, we're actually really good at this!"

"Evil is a strong word," you laugh.

"You literally tortured me for fun," he points out, but he's grinning now. "That's pretty evil. I'm dating a villain."

He's still holding your hand, thumb tracing patterns on your skin, and the simple affection of it is so Woonhak it makes you smile.

"Don't do that again though," he says quietly. "My heart rate still hasn't gone back to normal. I think you took years off my life."

"So dramatic," you repeat.

"So mean," he counters, but he's leaning in again anyway, bumping his nose against yours playfully. "You're lucky you're cute."

"You think I'm cute?"

"Don't fish for compliments, you already know you are," he mumbles, ears going red again. "Now can we please just kiss like normal people? No more games?"

And when you agree, his relieved sigh is so loud and exaggerated that you can't help but laugh against his lips.

Even as he kisses you again—sweet, enthusiastic and unmistakably Woonhak—he pulls back every few seconds just to check that you're still there, like he doesn't quite trust that you won't disappear again.

"Just making sure," he explains each time, and honestly? It's perfect.

@coriihanniee ᯓᡣ𐭩

˖➴ reblogs are appreciated! ty for reading! <3

it was good for both of you, since the pair of you had always struggled with immediate change. plus, who could ever deny that communication was a good thing?

"s-sorry, i shouldn't- i should've-"

his breathing was still strained, limbs shaking from the sensual activities the two of you had been participating in just moments prior. The feeling of your wetness still subconsciously clenching around his length wasn't helping, either.

you slapped your hand over his blabbering mouth, making his eyes widen-- "say it again."

your hand slowly lifted from his face, and he felt his adam's apple bob in his throat before speaking, "please ride me, m-mommy."

electricity shot up core and need sparked through your entire body as his shaky voice rang out. the thick smell of sweat and amber incense filling your lungs as your sank back down on his lap.

he whined, hips bucking upwards to fill you up as much as possible. you continued to lift yourself up and down, enjoying the burn taking over your muscles everytime you did so.

"f-fuck, mom-mommy--"

"c'mon baby, c-cum for your mommy." you encouraged, humming contently as he let out a high-pitch whine. his head tilted upwards as he neared his release, the rhythmic thumping as your bodies moved in unison; you were sure the two of you would be receiving yet another noise compliant soon... but that was a problem from tomorrow.

"c-close, close close close!" leehan's lashes were wet with tears as his heart quickened, "say please." you said firmly, making eye contact with your nearly-fucked out lover.

"please, please let me-" he let out a sharp whine as he felt himself grow closer and closer to spilling inside of you, "m-mommy, please let me cum!"

you ran a hand through his red hair as you gave him permission, gasping as you began to fill his warm seed ooze out, filling your insides with a comfortable warmth that only turned you on more.

"good boy, fuck, you're such a good boy for mommy." you praised as you regained control of your breathing, not caring to wait until leehan had done the same before letting your pace grow sloppy as you chased your own orgasm.

he let out a soft, surprised cry as you rode him at your own desired speed-- practically fucking him into the mattress until you reached your release.

you collapsed next to him in bed, his legs still shaking from being used.

"you're calling me that every time we have sex." you breathed, gazing up at the ceiling of your apartment. leehan's eyes widened with excitement as he nodded, happy to do whatever his mommy asked of him.

°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡

you often regretted the day that your roommate introduced you to her friend group. they were all great, and you fit in perfectly. there was only one issue. you had the biggest crush on one of them- leehan.

it was all your fault really. you had no one to blame but yourself, but you couldn't help it. his soft eyes were so enchanting. you could stare into them for hours, and you have as you listened to him rant about a subject that you could honestly care less about. you also found yourself staring at his lips, watching the shapes he makes when he's not paying attention to you, wishing to know what they felt like against yours.

and god, his voice. you were pretty sure he could read you the encyclopedia, and you would be entertained. it was just so soothing, always calming you down. one time when you drank too much, you told him that. he didn't tease you for it which shocked you. instead, he told you to call him whenever you wanted to hear him, so now when you can't sleep, you call him. he'll talk to you about anything until he hears the soft breaths signaling that you fell asleep.

you knew you were down bad for him when he brought you with him to get another fish, and he told you which one would be perfect for you. so of course you got it, and now you have a fish named yin to match his new fish that he named yang. he helps you take care of it, often coming over to make sure you're following his directions.

your roommate teases you endlessly for you very obvious crush. she even brought leehan's friend, jaehyun into your teasing. they tried endlessly to get you to confess to him because you would be waiting forever for leehan to confess (jaehyun's words), but you always refused. you valued his friendship way too much to confess when you're not even sure he felt the same way. they were certain he did, but you still wouldn't do it.

lately, he's been leaving you hot and bothered. it didn't help that it's summer, so he's been walking around in tank tops and showing off his arms. today wasn't any different. all of you were at jaehyun's house playing a game, and the loser had to jump into the pool. leehan lost and didn't even take any of his clothes off before he cannonballed into the pool.

you felt nauseous as got out of the pool. his hair slicked back and showing off his forehead. his clothes were sticking to his body, and you swore you could see ab lines from where his shirt was clinging to his stomach. you felt like you couldn't take it anymore. so when he went upstairs to change, you told everyone you weren't feeling good before leaving. you played it off pretty good because none of them teased you like they normally did. your roommate even offered to go with you, but you refused.

that leaves you where you were now, softly moaning leehan's name as your vibrator ran across your clit. you imagined it was him laying on top of you, mouth running across your body while he held the vibrator to you, whispering everything he was going to do to you. your eyes shut in pleasure, back arching when you press the vibrator harder. right as you felt yourself getting close, you heard someone knock on your door, nearly making you jump out of your skin.

"yn." you heard your name being called from the other side of the door, and you nearly scream when you recognize the voice as leehan's. "are you in there?"

"just a sec!" you quickly shut off the vibrator before throwing it in your drawer. you fix your shorts before getting up. you run your hands down your shirt as you open the door. leehan was standing there with a concerned look on his face. you move back and let him in before shutting the door. "what are you doing here?"

"jaehyun said you weren't feeling good, so i wanted to come and check on you."

thankfully leehan wasn't looking at you, so he couldn't see your face. he did his usual, going to check on your fish before laying down across the end of your bed. you join him, leaning on the head rest as you cross your legs.

"you didn't have to do that. i think i just got overheated."

leehan looked over to you, slowly examining you to make sure you weren't lying. "so you're feeling better now?"

you wanted to say no. if he would've came five minutes later after you had gotten yourself off, you would've been fine. but now here you were, sexually frustrated with the one who is causing it laying right in front of you.

"yep. feeling much better." leehan hummed at your answer.

"then why did it take you so long to open the door?" you had to stop your eyes from widening at his question. you motioned to the bathroom that was connected to your room.

"i was in the bathroom."

"you didn't sound like you were in the bathroom."

you force out a laugh at him as you try not to freak out. "what are you? an interrogator?"

"no." he answered. "i just want to know why it took you so long to open the door."

"i just told you. i was in the bathroom."

"no you weren't." leehan argued with you. you shift under his gaze but was determined not to break like you normally did.

"is the heat getting to you too?" you ask. "because i'm pretty sure i was in the bathroom. i would know."

leehan clicked his tongue like he was scolding you. "you're lying to me."

"no i'm not."

"yes you are."

"what makes you think i'm lying to you?" you ask, getting fed up with him. he rolled over on his side, smirking at you and catching you off guard.

"i was standing at your door long before i decided to knock."

you felt your mouth dry up as you blink at him. he heard you. your friend heard you moaning his name while you pleasured yourself. you felt like you wanted to cry, especially since you couldn't tell how he was feeling. your mind told you he was teasing you due to the smirk on his face that still hasn't left.

you quickly untangle your legs before making a break for the bathroom. he tried to grab you, but you were too fast, closing and locking the door before he could get to you. you felt tears hit your cheeks as your back slides down the wall.

leehan knocked on the door. "yn, open the door."

"no." you willed your voice to come out strong, but it shook at the end. you knew leehan could tell you were crying be he cursed when he heard you.

"please open the door."

"please leave." you beg.

"i'm not leaving, yn." you heard leehan sigh. you could hear him shift like he was sitting down in front of the door. "i'm not leaving until we talk about this."

you kept quiet, not wanting to respond. you knew he wouldn't leave. he was too stubborn. once he said he was doing something, no one could stop him from it. "how long were you standing there?"

"long enough." he answered.

"can you just reject me and leave?"

"why would i reject you?" you scoff at his question.

"oh please. you were on the verge of laughing."

"i wasn't going to laugh." he replied softly. you shook your head, not believing him.

"then why were you smiling like that?"

"because i was thinking about how good you sounded while moaning my name." you nearly choke at his answer. "i had imaging how you sounded for months, and somehow you sounded so much better than anything i could've imagined. and its driving me crazy that you're locked behind this door, and i can't touch you."

you were stunned by his answer. you could hear the desperation in his voice towards the end. you quietly stood up before moving towards the door. "you- you like me back?"

you hear him shuffle as he quickly stood up once he heard how close you were to the door. "how could i not? you're like the most perfect person i've ever met."

you wipe your face, getting rid of the dried tears before you unlock the door. you didn't even get a chance to open it before leehan barged into your bathroom. you barely had a chance to look at him when his hands gripped your cheeks, pulling your lips to his. you gasped at the actions before kissing him back.

he kissed you deeply, hands roaming your body like he was trying to memorize everything about you. your back hit the counter when he backed you up. he easily lifted you up, sitting you on the counter as his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring every inch of you.

you felt your head spin, and you tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let you. he chased after your lips, molding them to yours as he pulled you closer to him. his grip was tight on your legs, tight enough to leave bruises as he wrapped them around his waist. his erection was poking through his shorts, brushing against your heat and causing you to moan into his mouth at the friction.

"you drive me insane." his voice deep with lust. he moved his head, sucking and biting at every inch of your exposed neck, making you squirm in his hold. "it took everything in me not to barge in and fuck you when you said my name. you would've like that though, wouldn't you baby?" you nod desperately, too far gone to speak sentences. "is that what you want? for me to fill this pussy up the way she deserves?"

"leehan." you whimper, voice cracking with need as you cling to him. he bites your neck harder when his name leaves your lips. you hands grip the counter as you roll your hips against his, moaning again when his hips desperately bucked into yours.

his hands cup your ass, squeezing tightly as he pulls you flush against him before picking you up. "you're already a mess, and i've barely touched you. i can practically feel how soaked you are through your clothes, my desperate girl."

your back hit the soft mattress before leehan kneeled over you. his hands gripped your knees before prying your legs apart, exposing your core to him. one of his hands left your knee before his fingers ran over your shorts. you choke out a moan, lifting your hips at the contact. you hear him darkly chuckle at your desperation. "how bad do you want it, baby?"

"so bad- please." his hand leaves your core, running across your hip, leaving you whining at the loss of contact. his hand roughly kneed the smooth flesh of your thigh before slapping it, causing you to jump while desperately moaning his name again.

"i don't think you want it that bad. why would you run away if you wanted this?"

you shake your head at his words. "i want it- want you. i'm sorry for running. i didn't mean to. please, leehan."

leehan stops your pleas with his mouth, tongue coaxing yours, causing your hips to rut against his. he bites your lip at the action, holding your hips down before sliding his hand into the front of your shorts. you stutter against his lips as his fingers teasingly slide down your dripping cunt. "you're fucking dripping. all for me baby, right?" you nod your head, eyes rolling in the back of your head when his thumb finds your throbbing clit. "and to think you thought a vibrator would be better than me." you almost scream when his hand pinches your clit. "tell me. can your vibrator do this?"

you thrust into his hand, broken moans leaving your lips when he thrust two fingers into you. he doesn't give you any time to adjust, leaving you squeezing around his fingers as continued to shove his fingers deep inside of you. the wet sounds of your cunt along with your moans and whimpers brought a smile to leehan's face. "answer me, or i'm going to stop."

"p-please don't stop." you cry out. "it doesn't. n-nothing has felt even a fraction as good as you."

he rewards you, curling his fingers, hitting that spot that has you squeezing so tightly around him, he could barely move. tears prick your eyes, hips moving against his hand as he leans down. his lips brush yours, drowning your sounds with his lips. "why don't you be my good girl and take your shirt off, so i can see these pretty tits?"

his fingers don't stop moving at all, leaving you to try to sit up with shaky arms. your hands barely work which leaves leehan chuckling, before you pull the shirt over your head. you throw it before unhooking your bra, letting it slide down your arms before throwing it as well. leehan pushes you down, lips instantly finding your hardened nipple. your back arches into his mouth, whimpering when he bites the sensitive bud.

he marks every inch of your chest, leaving it glistening with his spit and bruises, making him groan against your lips at the sight of your trembling body. his name barely leaves your lips, legs tightening around his waist when your stomach clenches so hard it hurts.

"cum for me." he demands, hand finding your sore nipple before pinching it, causing you to cry out. "cum all over my fingers. make a mess."

you scream out his name as your orgasm ripped through your body. it left you shaking, clenching around his fingers that have yet to cease moving. he took his other hand, pulling your shorts down your legs, leaving him completely exposed to him. he stands by the edge of the bed, lustful eyes scanning over every inch of you. you tried to pull away from his hand that was still buried inside of you, causing him to slap your ass in warning.

"stop running from me." he growled, ripping his hand out of your cunt, leaving you moaning for more. he gripped your thighs, pulling you towards him. "roll over."

you did as he said, rolling over to your stomach and letting leehan position you the way he wanted you. your ass was in the air, leaving your face pressed into the mattress, back arched for him that nearly had him moaning your name. he rips off his shirt in one clean motion before kneeling down, lining his face up with your cunt. his hand held your folds open while he darted his tongue out, brushing over your puffy clit with a groan of how you sweet tasted.

he started out slow, tongue moving slowly as he circled your clit teasingly, smiling when he hears you moaning for more. "patience, baby. i'm just getting started." he presses a little harder, flicking his tongue over your clit before sucking the swollen bud, leaving you moaning his name clenching around nothing. "do you feel that? how much this pussy is begging for me? should i give her what she wants, baby?"

"yes. please, leehan." you voice full of need that leaves leehan straining in his pants. "i need you, so bad. please fuck me."

leehan groans at your words, shedding his shorts as he stands up. his dick hits your clit, making you moan at the feeling. you could feel him pulsing as he slowly ran his dick through your dripping folds, coating him in your slick. he soon got sick of the teasing, the two of you moaning out in unison as he slides into you in one slick thrust. he groans when he feels you clench around him at the stretch.

his warm breath was hot against your neck as he leaned over you, pressing his lips to your spine. "do you feel how well your pussy takes me? like you were fucking made for me?"

you can't do anything but moan at his words, lost as he completely fills you with his cock. he start out slow, tortuously slow, letting you feel every inch of him against your walls as he almost completely pulls back before thrusting back inside of you. his hands dig into your hips, nails leaving crescent shaped marks as he held you in place.

your eyes clench shut, tears pooling in the corners as he speeds up, slamming into you. your knuckles turn white from how hard your gripping the sheets. the only thing leaving your mouth was his name. "that's right, baby. let me hear you scream out my name. let every know who's fucking you stupid."

you cry out his name, eyes rolling back when his hands push on your stomach bulge. your back arches more with his touch, leaving your back the perfect canvas for leehan's lips. he leaves your entire back covered in bruises as he continues to slam into you, loving that you turned into a sobbing mess beneath him.

"my good girl." you cry when his hand threaded itself into your hair, yanking you up with a sharp tug, groaning when he feels you squeeze his dick. "you're just mine to ruin, aren't you?"

he could tell you were already there, tears running down your cheeks as you begged him. "leehan, please. i- i need you."

"you have me baby." he coos, tongue trailing along your cheek, catching the salty tears with a groan. "do you want more? are you going to let me fill this pussy, so she knows who she belongs to?"

"please."

he lets your hair go, your face pressing into the mattress as he picks up his speed. he groans when you squeeze around him, stomach coiling tightly, signaling your climax. his hand moved around you, mercilessly rubbing your clit. you see stars, clenching your eyes so tightly as you cum. leehan groans at the feeling of you, thrusting into you a few more times before he fills you with his release.

the two of you stay in that position as you come down from your highs. leehan leans over you, pressing sweet kisses to your spine which was a complete contrast to how he just was. his hands run soothing circles on your hips as he pulls out of you. you hiss at the loss of contact, letting leehan roll you over on your back before covering you with his body.

"you did so good, my sweet girl." you smile at the compliment, grabbing his face before kissing him which he responds to instantly. he runs his hands all over your body, massaging the tender areas, leaving you moaning into his mouth.

"we picked the worst time of the year to get together. we're all sweaty." you complain as you pull away. you were right- the both of you were covered in sweat. leehan's hair was damp and sticking to his forehead, and you could feel yours clinging to your neck.

leehan laughs against your lips before kissing you again. "it's not all bad."

"why's that?"

leehan wraps you around his body once again, making you gasp as he stands up. he laughs, kissing your cheek as he carries you back to where everything started.

leehan was equally as shy, but double as needy. the movie had long faded into his peripheral attention, and all of his senses were enthralled by you. the way your profile looked under the dim light of the tv, how soft your voice was when you’d explain your favourite parts of the movie, the sweet, intoxicating scent of your caramel perfume—it was all driving him insane, and he knew he just needed to suck it up and ask. you’d told him before, very patiently, that you’d wait until he was ready. but little did you know that he’d been the one waiting. and in his head, he was more than ready.

with your head resting on his shoulder and your knees pressed against his thighs, it was getting difficult to control himself. he was nervous, and shy—but his hormones had overridden his pride long ago.

tugging on the hem of your sweater to get your attention, he took advantage of how your head turned slightly to face him to lean down and press a kiss to your lips. you’d done this a few times, and leehan had developed a minor addiction to the feeling… one that resulted in him having to hide an embarrassing boner a few times.

you were surprised at the sudden kiss, but quickly melted into it. leehan attempted to prolong it, but truth be told, he had no idea what he was doing—you were usually the one to guide him. and noticing his hesitance, you did exactly that. holding the bottom of his chin gently, you moved your lips against his in a way that made it easier for him to follow along. you pulled away after a moment, and for the first time that night, you let yourself look at him—really look at him. and you knew you couldn’t dismiss his parted lips, flushed cheeks or dilated pupils for anything else.

“hannie,” you murmured, tilting your head slightly as your eyes flickered over his face. “do you want more?”

you’d never seen someone nod so quickly, a stuttered “yes” leaving his mouth before you’d even finished the question. chewing on your lip, you paused the movie before pulling him in for another kiss, this one doubly as bruising.

the kiss quickly turned into a messy makeout session, with you guiding leehan through it and leehan… well, he’d gotten hard embarrassingly quickly. he couldn’t help it—the feeling of your tongue in his mouth and your weight in his lap was too much to bear, and every second of it felt like heaven. when you pulled him down on top of you on the couch, he could honestly say he had no idea what he was doing, but him and his cock were enjoying it a little too much.

when you finally pulled away, leehan had never looked more wrecked in his life, and you’d only just started—saliva was dripping down his chin, his lips were red and plump from the kissing and his hands had a vice grip on the cushions next to your head. you’d waited for this moment for too long, and the bed felt too far away—the couch would do fine.

“you sure you wanna keep going?” you asked as you sat up slightly, tone contrastingly gentle compared to the activities which had taken place beforehand.

“please…” he murmured breathlessly in return, and you couldn’t control yourself much longer. you helped him take off his shirt and pants before getting naked yourself, feeling your ego inflate from the way his eyes widened at the sight of your body, and his hands twitched at his sides with the desire to touch but unsure of where. with your clothes now on the floor, you guided his hands up to your breasts, letting him feel wherever he wanted. leehan could swear his cock grew ten sizes from the feeling of your soft flesh in his hands. he’d imagined this, sure, but the reality was so much better.

there wasn’t much more foreplay to do—the both of you were turned on enough; you from having waited so long for this moment, and him from all the new sensations. you slipped on a condom for him, the heat in your core growing from his little moan and how his hands gripped your hips tighter. you guided him to your entrance, helping him shift his body so he was lined up.

“just push it in, baby,” you murmured your instructions, a small smile tugging at your lips at how he took a small breath as if to steel himself. he’d never looked so cute and hot at the same time. slowly, he pushed in, letting out a whimper at the incredibly new feeling of your tight, warm walls surrounding him. jesus—he swore he could die happy with his cock buried in your heat.

“good,” you praised breathlessly, hands trailing up and down his sides gently. the way his face scrunched up had your heart swelling with endearment. “when you’re ready, you can move.”

leehan opened his eyes slightly, eyes flickering down to where he was inside of you. he was honestly about to cum, but he didn’t want to say it aloud. with a hesitant look, he pulled out just enough to have you both feeling empty, before pushing back in. he let out an embarrassingly loud moan, his hand slapping up over his mouth as soon as he was back inside of you.

“let me hear you,” you laughed softly, reaching up to remove his hand as you observed his red cheeks. “you sound so pretty, hannie.”

your words made the heat grow inside him, and hesitantly, he started to move again, this time getting it more consistently. the sounds of your praise and breathy moans urged him on, the way you’d guide his hands to different parts of your body through the process had him ready to release after 2 minutes. and leehan wasn’t good at holding on.

“y-y/n,” he whimpered, rutting into you like a dog in heat. “c-can’t—”

“it’s okay, baby,” you breathed between pants, hands gripping his biceps as your back hit the couch periodically. truth be told, you were close too, and his inexperience and willingness only turned you on further. “let go for me.”

your words pushed him over the edge, and dropping his head into the crook of your neck, leehan moaned against your skin, the feeling of your walls clenching around him having him seeing stars. you came soon after, gently urging him to keep moving despite his obvious overstimulation. he slowed down soon enough under your guidance, before collapsing on top of you with a shaky whimper. the feeling of your hands gently tracing up and down his bare back grounded him a little, making him feel safe in your arms.