#wayv

The first problem was that your roommate moved out. The second problem was that rent was due in three weeks. The third problem was him.

Jeong Jaehyun.

At the time, you naively didn't even realise he would become the biggest problem of all.

You found out about your roommate leaving on a Thursday evening.

"I've got news," she announced.

You immediately knew something was up.

"Why do I feel like you’re gonna tell me something bad?"

She laughed nervously.

Because she was doing exactly that.

Apparently, her boyfriend had gotten a new apartment so they'd decided to move in together.

And she would be gone by the end of the month.

You looked at her dumbfounded.

Then you asked the only question that mattered.

"What happens to rent?"

The answer was exactly as awful as you'd expected.

The apartment wasn't cheap.

You could manage your half comfortably.

The full amount?

Not a chance.

So for the next two weeks, your life became one long search for a roommate.

You interviewed everyone.

Students.

Coworkers.

Friends of friends.

Even strangers from rental websites.

And every single one was somehow worse than the previous candidate.

One showed up forty minutes late.

One asked if you'd mind sharing your room because "walls are kind of a social construct."

Like what the actual fuck?

One spent ten minutes explaining cryptocurrency eventho none of the questions you had asked him were about cryptocurrency.

It was safe to say that you were losing hope fast.

Then one afternoon you got a text from a mutual friend.

Hey. Weird question.

Do you still need a roommate?

Maybe...why?

Jaehyun needs somewhere to stay.

You stared at the message almost offended.

Then immediately typed back.

Absolutely not. I'd rather die.

The response came seconds later.

He said you'd say that.

Of course he did.

You'd known each other for years.

Not by choice exactly, but because somehow, he was always present in your life one way or the other. It started with mutual friends then came the mutual events and it blossomed in mutual annoyance. And every encounter somehow ended in an argument.

You couldn't stand him.

He couldn't stand you.

At least that was what you told yourself.

Then your friend sent another message.

He's desperate.

You almost laughed at the text but then looked around your apartment, and remembered your bank account. And quickly came to the realisation that you had no right to laugh at him when you were on the verge of ending on the streets yourself if you didn't find a roommate soon.

A deep sigh left you.

The kind of sigh people made before making life-altering mistakes.

Fine. He can move in next week.

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The first time Jaehyun stepped into the apartment, he looked around like he was inspecting a crime scene.

"This is smaller than I expected."

"You can leave."

He chuckled.

"You haven't changed."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It wasn't."

You rolled your eyes.

"Whatever."

He grinned wider.

Your friend watched the interaction.

"Wow."

"Wow what?" you asked.

"I forgot how much you two hate each other."

"We don't hate each other."

Jaehyun looked at you.

And you looked back.

A beat passed.

"Yeah, no I definitely hate him."

He scoffed.

"Good. I'd hate to be all alone in this."

Your friend buried her face in her hands, already starting to regret her decision to help.

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Living together started exactly how you'd expected.

Terrible. No, more than just terrible.

The arguments were immediate.

Who used the last coffee pod.

Whose turn it was to take out the trash.

Which television show to watch.

Whether cereal counted as dinner.

It definitely did.

Jaehyun insisted it didn't. There was no "real" nutrition in it, apparently. Eventho, you don't remember asking for his opinion.

The worst part was that he genuinely seemed to enjoy annoying you.

Especially because your reactions entertained him.

One morning, you walked into the kitchen half asleep.

Jaehyun was already there.

Leaning against the counter.

Coffee in hand.

Hair still messy from sleep.

You barely looked at him.

"Morning."

"Morning, sweetheart."

You stopped walking.

Slowly turned around.

"What did you just call me?"

His expression remained perfectly innocent.

"Sweetheart."

"Don't."

"Okay."

You relaxed. For exactly one second.

Then that smile appeared on his face. The one that told you how wrong it was to think he was actually going to stop.

"Morning, princess." He said, exaggerating the n for added effect.

You threw a napkin at him.

He looked delighted.

That should have been your warning.

Because after that it became a daily occurrence.

Sweetheart.

Honey.

Pretty thing.

Sunshine.

Baby.

Every ridiculous nickname imaginable.

Only for you.

Never for anyone else.

Which annoyed you to no end.

"You know," you said one afternoon, "one day somebody's going to punch you."

He looked up from the couch.

"Maybe."

"I hope it hurts."

He smiled.

"You volunteering?"

You hated how attractive his smile was.

You hated how attractive he was.

Actually, no.

You hated that you noticed in the first place. That was the actual dilemma.

Because somewhere along the way things had become complicated.

It started small.

A glance that lasted too long.

A laugh that sounded nicer than it should.

The realisation that you always knew where he was in a room.

The realisation that you looked for him.

And suddenly you were in love with your roommate.

Your infuriating, annoying, way too cocky, enemy of a roommate.

Which was a disaster, to put it lightly. Because Jaehyun clearly thought flirting with you was a game. A way to get under your skin. But nothing more.

Meanwhile, every teasing grin of his nearly killed you inside.

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Three months later, things became somehow worse.

You had adapted to living together.

Which was dangerous.

Because now Jaehyun was woven into your routines.

You knew what time he woke up.

What coffee he bought.

What shows he secretly watched when nobody was around.

You knew he hummed while cooking.

You knew he left cabinet doors open.

You knew he got grumpy when he was tired.

You knew entirely way too much.

One Friday evening you were met with a mouth watering smell as soon as you opened the front door.

It seemed like Jaehyun was cooking for once.

There was no way, right?

Following the delicious smell, you walked into the kitchen and looked over to the stove.

"What are you making?"

"Dinner."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Then don’t ask if you already know."

He pointed a spoon at you.

"You know, conversations are usually easier when people don't start with stupid questions."

You scoffed.

“That’s a bold way to announce that you're too stupid to handle basic conversation.”

He laughed and just handed you a spoonful to taste.

You immediately froze.

Because he was suddenly very close.

Close enough to see every detail of his face. Close enough to feel the softness of his hoodie brush your skin. Close enough that your heart immediately started behaving like an idiot.

"Well?" he asked.

You quickly tasted it. "It's good... I guess."

His grin appeared. "Damn. Such high praise? I thought you'd spit it out."

"Don't get used to it."

"I think I will."

His lips curved into a smile when he got the last word in, and those irresistibly cute dimples made your heart skip a beat

God.

Oh God.

You were doomed.

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A week later came the date.

You knew something was up with him all day, so when you walked into the living room, you were already prepared to be annoyed, but the sight in front of you nearly took you out.

Jaehyun was changing the middle of your living room, standing in front of the near full-length mirror. And you could swear you heard your brain shut down like those old Windows computers.

A white shirt was hanging loose from one hand while he stood there completely shirtless. Looking every bit like he walked straight out of your wildest dreams.

Endlessly broad shoulders on display. Those defined biceps, which you wanted to take a bite out of. A toned chest and a set of abs that looked like they belonged in a fitness ad instead of your living room.

You completely froze. And for one terrible second, your eyes lingered.

Then another second.

Then another.

His voice cut through the silence.

"Like what you see?"

You snapped your gaze upward.

He was already looking at you.

Smirking.

The worst part, tho?

He didn't seem embarrassed at all.

In fact, he looked delighted.

Absolutely basking in delight.

Your face heated immediately.

"Don't flatter yourself."

"Oh, I'm not." His grin widened.

"Your expression is doing all the flattering for me."

You scoffed and tried to walk past him.

Unfortunately, that required getting closer.

Which only made you notice things you definitely didn't want to notice.

The definition in his shoulders.

The way his arms flexed as he casually held the shirt.

The absolutely unfair muscle definition across his stomach. All the way down to his v-line that was dangerously peeking out...

You looked away so fast your neck almost hurt.

A low laugh escaped him.

"There it is again."

"There is what again?"

"That look."

"There is no look."

"Right." He nodded. "And you weren't staring at my abs thirty seconds ago."

You cleared your throat in a desperate attempt to play it nonchalantly.

"I was not staring."

"You absolutely were."

"I was distracted."

"By my abs."

"No!"

"By my shoulders, then?"

You hid your face in your hands, giving yourself away.

His eyes lit up immediately.

"Oh my God, it was the shoulders."

"Shut up."

He laughed.

Actually doubled over laughing at you.

The jerk looked impossibly pleased with himself.

"You know," he said, pulling on the shirt at an agonizingly slow pace, "for someone who claims to hate me, you spend a surprising amount of time looking at me."

You folded your arms.

"Trust me. Nothing about this changes the fact that you're insufferable."

"Mm." He buttoned another button.

"That's not denial."

You glared at him.

He grinned right back.

You let out a frustrated sigh and sat down on the couch, side eying him.

He looked back into the mirror, now finally dressed in that white button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up neatly, displaying his delicious forearms, dark pants, his hair styled up instead of being in his eyes like usual. And he'd decided to wear cologne.

The exact same one that turns you into a mess everytime he wears it.

It's enough not to be overwhelming.

Yet just perfectly enough to make you painfully aware of it.

Your stomach twisted.

Because he looked good.

Really good.

Unfairly good.

Jaehyun noticed you staring again. And a slow smirk crept back on his handsome face.

"Take a pic. It'll last longer."

You looked away immediately, ignoring his words.

"Why are you dressed like that?"

His grin widened once again.

"Like what?"

"You know exactly what."

Jaehyun made eye contact through the mirror as he adjusted his cuff,

"I've got a date."

Your stomach dropped completely.

A date. Right. Why wouldn't he...

He was attractive, charismatic when he wanted to be, and infuriatingly good at making people like him, so it was only a given that he had dates lined up for him.

You forced a shrug.

"Poor girl."

His mouth twitched.

"Jealous?"

"In your dreams."

He laughed.

"You wish I was."

That was all you managed.

"Oh?"

Jay tilted his head.

"You sound disappointed."

You scoffed.

"In your dreams."

"Mhm."

You rolled your eyes to convince him, or maybe convince yourself.

"Have fun." You said, even if the words tasted like ashes in your throat.

His gaze lingered on you.

Longer than necessary.

Then his grin returned.

"Try not to miss me too much, princess."

"Get out."

He left, laughing at your frustration all the way out the door.

But this time, the sound didn't give you the usual butterflies. Instead, it felt like a knife slowly being twisted inside of you.

Jaehyun wasn't yours.

He never had been.

He never would be.

So why did the idea of him going on a date make you feel sick?

You hated it.

You hated everything about it.

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The apartment felt empty afterwards.

Annoyingly empty.

And the evening only seemed to drag on.

You watched half a movie, you couldn't focus. You opened a book, didn't read a word. You checked the clock, then, checked it again ten minutes later.

This was pathetic.

Absolutely pathetic.

You weren't jealous.

Why would you be jealous.

No, that definitely wasn't it.

You were—

Okay.

You were jealous.

A little.

Fine.

A lot.

Some girl was probably sitting across from him right now. Laughing at his stupid genius jokes. Looking at him the way you tried not to.

You tried distracting yourself again, but it didn't help. It's like your brain insisted on imagining things just to torture you.

Was he having fun?

Was she pretty?

Was she making him laugh?

Did she get to see that smile?

The one that made you fall in love with him the first time.

The thought made your heartache worse.

Hours kept passing. And you were becoming increasingly miserable.

By ten o'clock, you were stretched out on the couch, phone in hand, trying to scroll through social media, but every few minutes, your thoughts drifted right back to the same thing.

Him.

Specifically, the moment you'd walked into the living room earlier.

You groaned and dropped your phone onto your chest.

This was pathetic. Actually pathetic.

You pressed a pillow over your face.

You weren't supposed to notice things about him. You certainly weren't supposed to remember them hours later. And yet your brain kept supplying details without your permission.

His broad shoulders.

His strong arms.

His stupid abs that were way too unnecessarily defined.

Even the way he'd looked completely at ease standing there while you forgot how to function.

Heat crept up your neck.

You shifted on the couch.

"Seriously?" you muttered to yourself.

The memory should have faded by now.

Instead, it seemed to be getting worse.

Every time you remembered the look on his face when he'd caught you staring, your stomach tightened.

Not in a bad way, which was exactly the problem. A very, very annoying problem.

Why him? Of all people, why him?

The guy was insufferable.

Arrogant.

Smug.

Impossible.

And somehow that only made remembering his self-satisfied grin worse.

Your pulse kicked up at the thought.

You immediately sat upright.

"No."

Absolutely not.

You were not doing this.

You were not lying on your couch thinking about Jaehyun or his perfect body.

Unfortunately for you, telling yourself not to think about him only made his face appear in your mind again.

His laugh.

His teasing.

His deep voice.

A strange restless energy settled under your skin. So you stand up and walk to the kitchen. Get a glass of water. And sit back down, drinking the cold water in one go.

The coldness lasted approximately thirty seconds before your thoughts wandered right back to him.

"You're actually the worst," you informed the empty room.

But no matter what you did, he didn't leave your mind. So much so, it got you bothered.

And there was no way you could ignore it at this point.

Jaehyun wouldn't be back in a few hours if he got back at all tonight. So technically, you could do whatever you wanted right now.

It felt so wrong.

How could you think about him of all people like this? How could your own body betray you like this? But the ache between your legs only got worse the more you tried to reason.

So before you know it, your hands are gliding down your own body all the way until you reach the waistband of your shorts. You could still stop now. You should stop now, but the need for relief overtakes your senses.

The moment your fingers come in contact with your soaking cunt, you let out a deep moan.

"Mmmgh...fuck,"

Your shorts and panties are pulled aside just enough that you can feel the cold air in the apartment on your skin.

Your thoughts drift to how it would feel like to run your hands over his body as your fingers glide through your already soaked folds and you start circling your clit.

"Ohh...Jaehyun..."

The quickly forming puddle on the couch is the least of your concerns as you keep imagining how good he'd feel inside of you. How he'd fil you up just right. All the way until neither of you'd know where he ends and where you start.

The vivid images make your pussy clench around nothing. So you ease the ache by pushing two fingers gently inside and immediately curling them to hit that spot that makes your toes curl every time.

"Fuckk...hnngh"

You slowly push in and out, your cunt squelching at the pace. And you feel the obscene nosies mixed with your loud moans, bounce off the walls in the empty apartment. Making the whole thing feel even more wrong.

Yet so good.

You imagine how pretty his skin would look with your marks all over him. How his deep voice would sound in your ears when he's overwhelmed with pleasure. How good his body would feel against yours as he fucks you into the couch.

"Jaehyunnn...please,"

Your coated fingers desperately thrust into yourself to the thought of his cock twitching inside of you as you'd feel him get close. Which only makes the coil in your stomach tighten as you pick up the pace.

You're almost there already. The combination of your imagination and your movements are enough to bring you to the edge.

Almost-

"Please what, princess?"

For one horrible moment, you can feel your soul actually leaving your body as you lock up and register his voice at the same time.

No! You heard wrong. He isn't home. He can't be-

Slowly, you lift your head.

And to your absolute horror, Jaehyun is, in fact, standing by the doorway. One shoulder leaning against the frame and wearing that infuriating smirk across his face in pure delight.

Oh no.

No.

No no no.

You quickly pull up your shorts and try to hide yourself with a pillow.

"How- how long have you been standing there?"

His grin only widens.

"Long enough."

You wanted to disappear. Have the earth swallow you immediately and forever.

"I wasn't—"

"You were moaning my name."

"I wasn't."

"You absolutely were."

"I-"

"You missed me."

"I didn't."

"You did."

"I didn't."

He walked over and leaned down slightly. Close enough that you could smell the cologne again. Close enough that your heart started acting up again.

"Princess," he murmured, clearly enjoying every second of this, "If you wanted me that badly, a little asking would’ve gone a long way."

Before you can react, he’s already on the couch, straddling you and trapping you there, his hands braced on either side of your head.

"Is this what you do when I'm not home?"

He grabs your hand, the same one you just used on yourself, and kisses up your wrist, whilst looking deep into your eyes.

"I- I don't-"

"You're such a bad liar, baby"

Slowly, he kisses up your hand, tongue flicking out to lick the same fingers you just used on yourself.

"Mhmm. How sweet."

You freeze, breath hitching as you stare at him in disbelief.

"That little act of yours—that so-called ‘hate’ you feel for me—isn’t really working, is it princess?”

You unconsciously press your thighs together, and his gaze darkens—something in his expression shifting in a way you’ve never seen before.

"You want me?"

Your breath catches.

"I asked you a question."

"...Yes."

"Yes, what? Use your words."

"Yes, I...I want you."

"But we shouldn't..." You start whispering, not because you didn’t want him. Because wanting him had become the only thing you could think about for months now.

His answer was quieter.

“I know.”

But he didn’t pull back. And you didn’t either.

His thumb brushed against your slightly parted mouth.

"I've wanted to taste these pretty lips for so long now..."

His eyes flicker up to yours, and you see the desperation in them.

"Tell me to stop before I lose my mind."

Unable to deny him—or yourself—any longer, you pull him in by the back of his neck and press your lips to his in a firm, decisive kiss.

The kiss doesn't begin gently.

It starts like something is breaking. Like months of restraint finally giving up at once, like every ignored glance and unfinished sentence collapsing into a single, undeniable moment. His hand rises to your face like he’s been waiting too long to remember he was always allowed to touch you. You, in turn, grab onto his shoulders as you deepen the kiss. His warm tongue glides across your bottom lip, and you instinctively open up as you both can't seem to get enough.

You'd imagined this so many times. To the point a part of you had started to believe the real thing could never live up to it. But the moment his lips met yours, every version you'd ever invented just vanished into thin air.

He slowly makes his way down your jaw, all the way to your neck, leaving behind little kisses like promises on your skin.

He looks up, searching for your eyes, "can I keep going?"

You nod immediately, too breathless to speak a word.

He smiles back at you before slowly settling between your legs.

His hands slide down your body. Over your the swell of your breasts, down your stomach and along your thighs.

"You're so beautiful..."

Jaehyun slowly pushes your thighs apart and gently yet firmly, starts pressing kisses on the inside of your thigh. Every kiss closer to where you wanted him the most. And he doesn't take long either before you feel his tongue licking a fat stripe over your shorts.

You gasp at the sensation.

Jaehyun smirks at your reaction before kissing up your core until he reaches the edge of your shorts. With quick hands, he removes the barrier between himself and what he wants. After making sure with you one last time.

You draw a sharp breath as the cold air hits your pulsing cunt for the second time that night. His fingers gently press into your thighs, keeping them apart.

A deep, unrestrained moan falls from his lips as he sees how worked up you already are.

"What a pretty princess, you are." he praises as he takes in the sight of your glistening pussy.

Jaehyun groans at the way you already start clenching around nothing. "You want it that badly, baby?"

That question makes you hide your face and instinctively try to close your legs as heat creeps up your neck. But Jaehyun’s hands shoot up immediately, holding them apart.

“Uh-uh, princess… don’t hide now. You were doing so well for me.”

The protest in your throat dies down the minute Jaehyun's mouth attaches itself onto your cunt. His smooth tongue flat against you, lapping up your dripping juices.

Fuck. He knew how to use it. It definitely wasn't his first time.

He matches every lick to every curve. And every flick to every angle. You squirm against his face, a hand inevitably reaching out to fist into his perfectly styled hair. And a soft whimper escapes your throat as you press him further into you, feeling a moan vibrate through your body whilst his nose brushes against your clit.

"Fuckkkk," you whimpered, gasping for air already as you look down at him.

And almost come on the spot at the sight of him.

His mesmerising, chocolate eyes, lock with yours as he pulls your legs over his shoulders and moves your hips as he dives in deeper. His mouth glistens with your juices, and a smirk locks back in place as he feels you get wetter by the second.

When you tug on his hair, he gives you a split second to breathe before resuming. Picking up his pace even more as continues to drink you, utterly obsessed by the way you taste. Like he'd never get enough. Like he could die happily as long as he could taste your sweetness.

Your breath catches as his tongue moves to your clit, circling and flicking firmly. "Jaehyun," you gasp, eyes closing at the overwhelming feeling.

He pulls back, chuckling at your state, lips swollen from his effort and your essence dripping down his chin.

"Look at you, baby. So lost for words. You’re usually impossible to shut up when you’re pretending you can’t stand me. Is this all it takes, princess? Just my mouth, and you're already a mess for me. You love it, don't you? This is exactly what you wanted isn't it?"

You shoot him a glare, which only seems to amuse him more. His smirk deepens as his teeth graze your clit, and you suck in a sharp breath.

"You fucker," you mutter.

The look in his eyes turns completely wicked as he stays perfectly still, purely to spite you. "Tell me you love it, and I'll make you see stars, baby"

You narrow your eyes and clench your teeth but can't help and give in, "yes, I love it. Jaehyun."

"That's a good girl."

And that's all it took for him. All he needed before he put his tongue back on you and sucked and prodded every bit of your cunt like there is no tomorrow. The burn of his scalp as your fingers kept tugging his hair only adding to his growing bulge.

The way your hips moved against his mouth, the way you kept pulling him in, the way your pussy only seemed to get better by the minute had him going crazy.

"Fuck, yes, Jaehyun!" you cried out, hips rolling up against his tongue, making him hum against your swollen folds.

Jaehyun couldn't stop. Like his fingers had been glued to your thighs whilst the wetness kept leaking from your pussy. You just tasted so fucking good.

Jaehyun whined as his tongue flattened over you, and he started to slurp all the juices before they could escape.

"Jaehyun...Oh God! Jaehyun!" you kept moaning, and the pit of your stomach started to coil up again.

Fuck. You were so close now.

Jaehyun said nothing, continuing his assault on your clit. Alternating between sucking and licking every few seconds, not wanting to miss a crevicle of your pretty pussy.

"Don't hold back, baby. Come for me,"

The moment those words left his mouth and you felt him adding a finger, you came undone. Your hips shaking against his face as your climax hit. Juices running down your thighs and to your ass, which he happily licked off.

The pleasure rushed through your body in pulses, leaving you seeing stars just like he promised you.

He only stops when you push him off and leans back wiping his mouth, looking at your blissed out state in satisfaction.

You’re still on the couch, trying to get your breathing back under control when you tell him,

“This doesn’t change anything.”

Jaehyun lets out a deep chuckle, like you’ve just told him a bad joke.

“You were singing a very different tune a second ago.”

“That was- That was just momentary misjudgment.”

“Oh? Was it now, my princess?” he murmurs, clearly not believing you.

He leans in again, catching your hands and pinning them above your head with infuriating ease. You shut your eyes on instinct, waiting for it—breath caught, heart already giving you away again.

But nothing happens.

Just as he brushes your lips, he pulls back.

You make a small, frustrated sound before you can stop yourself. His smirk turns cunning, like he was exactly waiting for that reaction.

He gets off you, already turning to his room.

“Come find me when you’re done pretending,” he says over his shoulder.

A pause.

Then, his voice drops dangerously lower,

"And I'll gladly make sure you and the neighbours never forget my name again."

Then he leaves with that calm, teasing certainty, like you’ve already been his this whole time, and he’s just patiently waiting for you to realize it—leaving you breathless and completely undone on the couch.

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i found this in the cortis x reader tag by the way… if you dig deep into their account— there are tons of posts dedicated to creating disgustingly filthy shit about other groups as well. everyone please mass report it.

juhoon turned 18 only FOUR MONTHS AGO!! it might be the legal age, but it does not mean he is consenting to any forms of s3xually explicit content made about him. he is a REAL HUMAN BEING. he deserves RESPECT TO HIS DIGNITY AND IMAGE.

this also applies to james, martin, seonghyeon, keonho and to ALL other idols. no matter what age they may be— NO ONE has the right to objectify nor dumbified them to being inherently s3xual beings.

JOHNNY: dominant. size kink. orgasm control. johnny’s biggest thrill comes from knowing he’s too much for you. too long, too thick, too deep. but still watching you take every inch like you were made for it. he teases you until you’re begging, smirking as your legs twitch and hips squirm under the weight of his palm. nothing makes him hornier than hearing you gasp when he first presses in, the way you whimper out his name in disbelief at how full you feel. he’ll coo in your ear, chuckling softly as he says, “you can handle it, baby. you always do.” he doesn’t move until you ask him to, and even then, he’s slow. dragging it out, making you beg for each thrust. he has a habit of overstimulating you without mercy. one orgasm isn’t enough. not for him. he needs to see how many times he can push you over the edge before you’re crying into the sheets. his favorite thing is holding you down after you’ve already come, just to keep fucking you with that same smooth rhythm, his fingers stroking over your overstimulated clit while he keeps whispering how good you’re doing for him. he uses pet names like they’re part of his rhythm. “good girl. just like that. give me another.” and he always gets it. eventually.

TAEYONG: dom-leaning switch. rope bondage. mirror sex. taeyong is all about control. but he’s delicate with it. he loves beautiful restraints: thick red rope across your thighs, wrists tied softly behind your back, the intricate knots resting gently against your skin like decoration. he takes his time, sometimes longer tying you up than actually fucking you, and murmurs about how pretty you look like this. he wants your trust. the way you surrender to him is what makes his cock twitch, not just the act itself. every inch of your body is his to explore when you’re like this, and he doesn’t waste the opportunity. he’ll edge you, overstimulate you, all while running soft fingers across the silk-tight ropes like he’s playing an instrument. he’s obsessed with seeing you. taeyong fucks you in front of mirrors as often as he fucks you on the bed. his hand fits perfectly around your jaw, tilting your face toward the reflection while he presses into you from behind. he whispers into your ear, asking what you see, forcing you to look at the way your body trembles every time he thrusts deep. his voice is quiet, but strict. “don’t look away.” the way your eyes flutter under his command has him groaning against your neck, fucking you harder just to keep that ruined expression in your reflection a little longer.

YUTA: degradation. hair pulling. breeding kink. yuta doesn’t fuck you like you’re fragile. he wants your makeup smudged, your voice gone from screaming his name, your legs shaking from how rough he gets when you beg for more. he’s vocal, sharp-tongued, and merciless. his dirty talk leans toward degradation, but never in a way that feels hollow. he calls you names because he knows it gets you wet. his hand is constantly in your hair, tugging your head back so he can spit in your mouth and tell you how much of a mess you are. “look at yourself. crying already? pathetic.” he says it with a smile, because he knows you love it. the breeding kink is constant, primal. he presses you into the mattress, body heavy over yours, murmuring about how good your pussy would look dripping with his cum. he doesn’t pull out. ever. not unless you beg for it. even then, he pretends he’s going to finish inside you just to watch your face twist in panic-pleasure. when he’s close, he wraps your legs around his waist, thrusts hard and deep, and groans about how tight you get when he says he’s going to fill you up. “that’s what you want, isn’t it? fuck. greedy little slut.” it’s filthy. it’s possessive. it’s addictive.

TEN: exhibitionism. mirror kink. shibari. ten likes being seen. he performs even in private. he ties you up and fucks you in front of a full-length mirror, hands on your thighs, eyes on your reflection. he loves the symmetry of it. the way your body trembles under his, the sounds you make, the glossy heat in your eyes. “watch us,” he whispers. “look how good we are together.” he gets off on your reactions. on how messy he can make you. on how desperate your moans sound bouncing off the mirror, ricocheting through the room. his love for rope isn’t just about restraint. it’s about art. he takes his time with the knots, lacing them across your chest and thighs like you’re his canvas. it’s ritualistic, almost reverent. he makes you pose for him after, still tied up, naked and exposed. sometimes he doesn’t even fuck you right away. he just watches you squirm, blush, twitch under his gaze. “you don’t even know how hot you look like this, do you?” when he finally takes you, it’s with all the buildup of a practiced routine. like he’s waited his whole life to ruin you in this exact way, at this exact angle, while you cry out in front of your own reflection.

DOYOUNG: sub-leaning switch. praise kink. overstimulation. doyoung is the type who blushes at praise but still begs for it. he thrives when you’re on top, hands pressed against his chest, hips rolling while you ride him slowly. he’s sensitive, vocal, and gets overwhelmed easily. but that’s part of the appeal. you can ruin him with soft whispers and a vibrator. he’ll hold your hips, mouth open in shock every time you move faster, moaning your name like he’s about to fall apart. when you kiss him and call him your good boy, he completely melts beneath you, clinging to your body as he fucks up into you with trembling desperation. he doesn’t know when to stop. if you push him past his limit, again and again he’ll cry for it. overstimulation is his favorite form of torture. you can make him come once, wait a few minutes, then wrap your lips around him again until he’s sobbing and shaking and whimpering about how it’s too much. his voice breaks in the prettiest ways. “please- fuck, i can’t- it’s too- too good, please.” you can drag another orgasm out of him just by stroking him slow while he cries. the more you praise him, the harder he comes.

KUN: service dom. impact play. soft control. kun doesn’t raise his voice. he doesn’t need to. his control is quiet, gentle, unwavering. he ties your wrists with velvet ribbons, kisses each one, and tells you to breathe through it. he touches you like he’s sculpting something out of you, coaxing your pleasure out with patience and precision. he loves making you come with his hands. thick fingers curling just right, knuckles slick, wrist steady. he watches your face the whole time, moaning softly when you arch into him, whispering things like “that’s it, baby. you’re doing so well. let go for me.” but there’s a rough edge under all that sweetness. when you beg for more, when you need it harder. he delivers. he likes spanking. his palm cracks against your ass, sharp and deliberate, followed by his fingers soothing the sting. “you can take it. i’ve got you.” he’ll press kisses to your shoulder blades while pushing your face into the mattress, fucking you slow but deep, each thrust punctuated by a soft command. kun doesn’t fuck to dominate. he fucks to protect, to possess, to worship you with discipline. and when it’s over, he unties you with shaking hands, holds you in his lap, and murmurs about how beautiful you looked falling apart for him.

JAEHYUN: exhibitionism. mirror sex. choking. jaehyun doesn’t mind being watched. in fact, he likes it. he has no problem dragging you into the nearest empty room during an event, lifting your dress and bending you over the counter while he keeps one hand in your mouth and the other down your panties. he’s rough but quiet, eyes flicking toward the door every time someone walks by outside. it makes his cock twitch. the thrill of getting caught, of being inside you with your moans muffled into his shoulder, is a drug he can’t quit. he’s obsessed with mirrors. jaehyun pulls you into hotel bathrooms, sits you on the counter, and fucks you while making you watch. his hand curls around your throat, thumb resting gently against your pulse while he groans about how pretty you look like this. “look. eyes on the mirror. don’t hide from me.” his grip tightens just enough to make you lightheaded, just enough to make your legs tremble around him. his voice gets lower, more breathless, the closer he gets. and when you finally meet his eyes in the glass, he loses it completely.

WINWIN: power bottom. size kink. temperature play. winwin is quiet, but he’s not submissive. he lets you take the lead, sure, but it’s an illusion. he’s in control without needing to say it. when he lies back on the bed, legs spread, cock flushed and hard between his thighs, he doesn’t ask you to ride him. he waits. confident you’ll give in. and when you do, when you sink down on him and he stretches you open inch by inch, he smiles. slow, smug, lazy. “you needed it that bad, huh?” he doesn’t move at first. lets you fuck yourself on him while he watches, barely lifting a finger, until the urge to take over becomes too much. he likes temperature play. dragging an ice  cube down your chest while you’re tied up. warming his hands under your shirt and sliding them between your legs until you whimper. the contrast makes him hard. he likes watching you flinch, gasp, beg for more. and when he finally fucks you properly. hips snapping up to meet yours, hands gripping your waist, voice low in your ear. it’s with all the power he’s been holding back. you’re never really in charge. you just think you are until he flips the script and leaves you shaking in his lap.

JUNGWOO: sub-leaning switch. service kink. begging. jungwoo is eager. not just to please you, but to be told exactly how to please you. he’s the type to kneel between your legs, wide eyes glancing up for approval, lips parted like he’s ready to worship. when you touch him. run your fingers through his hair, press his face where you need him. he moans so sweetly you almost forget how filthy it is. he eats you out like he’s starving. tongue slow, patient, reverent. it’s not just about making you come. it’s about making you feel adored, like your pleasure is sacred and his only purpose is to serve. he’ll beg, softly at first-“please let me taste you, please let me make you feel good.”but the longer you tease him, the more desperate he gets. his voice breaks when you make him wait. when he’s tied to the bed, cock leaking and untouched, watching you take care of yourself instead, he practically cries for it. “i’ll do anything, anything you want, please-” and when you finally ride him, he thanks you. breathless and trembling, he holds your waist like it’s all he has left, whispering how perfect you feel and how lucky he is to be yours. he wants to be used. he wants to be ruined. he wants to be good for you.

XIAOJUN: praise kink. possessiveness. dirty talk. xiaojun fucks like he loves you and owns you at the same time. he praises you constantly. soft at first. “you’re doing so well,” “look at how perfect you take me”. but as he gets rougher, the praise turns desperate. “that’s right. take it. take all of it. fuck, you’re made for this.” he moans against your neck, his voice raw and open, hips moving in deep, full thrusts that leave you breathless. he makes you feel so wanted it’s dizzying. like you’re the only body he’s ever needed. but he gets jealous. possessive. if he sees someone else touching you, even innocently, he drags you back home and fucks you like he’s reclaiming something. his hands are firm on your hips, fingers digging in, his rhythm punishing but still filled with affection. “no one else gets to see you like this,” he says, thrusting harder, watching your face crumble beneath him. “say it. say you’re mine.” and you always do. because under all that filth is devotion. and when he kisses you after. sweaty, breathless, still inside you. it feels like you’ve been marked in more ways than one.

HENDERY:  roleplay. brat tamer. fear play (consensual). hendery’s playful in the most dangerous way. he’s the kind of guy who’ll start something in public. his hand on your thigh under the table, pressing against your panties with a smirk. and act innocent when you squirm. he’s into roleplay. likes scenarios where he pretends to be someone else. someone in charge. someone who caught you doing something bad and needs to teach you a lesson. he ties you up in character, calls you names with a twisted grin, fucks you deep while whispering the dirtiest things you’ve ever heard. it’s a game. but he plays to win. he’s interested in pushing boundaries. consensual fear play. the edge of danger, the illusion of something darker, the kind of sex that makes your heart race not just from pleasure but from the thrill of it. he’ll pin you down, growl threats you know he won’t follow through on, keep your wrists bound while he grinds against you slow and cruel. “you should’ve thought twice before teasing me.” and when it’s over, he always brings you back. soft kisses, warm blankets, a trembling apology that doesn’t really need to be said. because he knows how to take care of you. even when he’s being a monster.

MARK: dom. breeding kink. emotional degradation + praise. mark’s dominance doesn’t come from experience. it comes from instinct. from the way he reads your body. from how desperate you are, and how good it feels to finally give in when he takes control. he’s gentle with his words, rough with his hips, one hand gripping your waist while the other slides up to choke you soft. his favorite position is you on your back with your legs pinned to your chest. he likes being close. watching your face when he fucks you slow, then watching it fall apart when he starts pounding into you without mercy. and when you whimper that it’s too much, he only presses deeper. “you said you could take it. so take it.” mark’s a little twisted when he’s deep in it. he degrades you like he’s in love with you. voice shaking, forehead pressed to yours, cock throbbing inside. “look at you. can’t even think straight, huh? just want me to fill you up and fuck it out of you?” he has a breeding kink he’s shy about until you’re under him, whining and begging to be stuffed full. then he breaks. his thrusts get messier. his breath stutters. “gonna come in you. gonna ruin you.” and when he finally finishes, hips locked tight, he holds you there like he needs to stay inside. like his come in you means you’re his now. his voice shakes. his hands tremble. but the way he fills you? that’s deliberate.

RENJUN: possessive dom. dacryphilia. overstimulation. renjun likes control, but not in the way that screams for attention. it’s subtle. deliberate, precise. he reads you too well. the tilt of your head, the hitch in your breath, the tremble in your thighs when you’re trying to hold it. it turns him on to know he’s the only one who can push you there. he’s the type to have your legs locked around his waist, whispering in your ear about how no one else will ever fuck you this good. he doesn't raise his voice. he doesn’t have to. his words are sharp enough. his hips are relentless. and he likes it best when you’re crying for him. it’s not sadistic. he doesn’t want to hurt you. he wants to see you overwhelmed. body overstimulated, head spinning, tears clinging to your lashes while he kisses them away. “pretty when you cry,” he murmurs, voice breathless as he grinds deeper. he keeps going until your body can’t take it anymore. even then, he doesn’t stop. not until you’re sobbing into his neck and begging for mercy between orgasms. it’s not about being mean. it’s about being unforgettable. he’ll ruin you with a hand around your throat and a mouth full of praise. soft, sweet, and just cruel enough to keep you coming back.

JENO: primal dom. bondage. manhandling. jeno has the kind of strength that makes your breath catch. it’s not just physical, though the way he can throw you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing does something to you. it’s in how confidently he uses his body, how steady his grip is on your waist, how easily he pins your wrists above your head with one hand while the other trails down your thigh. he likes watching you struggle a little, like a caught thing. it makes him feral. especially when you act like you can handle it. he gets off on pushing your limits, both physically and mentally. just to see that moment when the fight leaves you, and all that’s left is need. he’s into restraints. leather cuffs, belts, thick rope tied quick and tight. he binds you because he wants your full attention. wants you squirming, helpless, panting into the pillow while he takes his time. every thrust is deliberate. every word is low and growled against your neck. “stay still. i didn’t say you could move.” if you act out, he’ll flip you onto your stomach and make you beg for forgiveness with your face in the sheets. his hands are everywhere. controlling, bruising, possessive. he marks what’s his and leaves you trembling for hours after.

HAECHAN: switch (dom-leaning). overstimulation. cockwarming. haechan doesn’t dominate with brute force. he does it with attitude. with a sharp tongue, a hand fisted in your hair, and the type of cocky smirk that tells you he’s already won. he’ll tease you until you’re shaking. hold you down and grind against you for what feels like hours, whispering shit like, “is this what you wanted? you’re so easy, it’s pathetic.” and the worst part is, you are. he makes you needy. makes you cling to him, beg for more, cry from how much he gives and how much he withholds. overstimulation is a game to him. you can’t come without permission, but once he gives it, he doesn’t stop. “again. you’re not done yet. not until you’re ruined.” but when he switches, it’s dangerous in a different way. he crawls into your lap and rides you slow, cockwarmingly slow, whining through gritted teeth while refusing to speed up. “you wanna come so bad, huh?” he gaslights you mid-thrust, calling you desperate even as he’s the one clenching down and crying from the pressure. he’s a brat when he bottoms. mouthy, teasing, bold. but always gives in eventually. especially if you break him the way he breaks you: slow, relentless, full of praise and punishment. no matter what role he’s in, he stays in control. he’s not just here to fuck. he’s here to fuck you up.

YANGYANG: switch. thigh riding. overstimulation. yangyang is greedy. greedy for your body, greedy for your attention, greedy for the way you fall apart when he keeps going after you’ve already come twice. he’s a switch in the truest sense. confident on top, cocky and in control, but absolutely down to be used if you take the lead. he’ll let you ride his thigh, one hand wrapped around your waist while the other traces circles over your clit. he grins when you gasp. “keep going. don’t stop until you come.” he loves watching you get off on him, loves how messy you get when you lose control. he’ll make you do it again. and again. until you can barely speak. he overstimulates you like it’s second nature. he won’t stop even when you start crying, not unless you say the word. “you’re okay,” he coos, even as his fingers keep pumping. “you can take it.” and he doesn’t ask you to make it pretty. he likes the tears, the broken sounds, the way your legs shake when he pushes one more orgasm out of you. his voice stays calm. smug. gentle. he makes it impossible to tell whether he’s being sweet or cruel. maybe both. either way, he’s not done until you are.

JAEMIN: corruption kink. praise and filth. aftercare obsession. jaemin gets off on making you fall apart. especially if you’ve never done this before. or if you’ve done it before, but never like this. he wants to hear you say it. how much better he is, how no one’s ever fucked you like he does. the idea of corrupting you makes him feral. he’s the kind of guy who’ll walk you through your first orgasm with soft praise and degrading filth in the same breath. “you feel that, baby? that’s your body begging for me. so sweet, so wet, so fucking perfect. no one else gets to see you like this.” and the more wrecked you look beneath him, the more obsessed he gets. he’s tender with his aftercare in a way that makes you ache. it’s almost jarring, how filthy his mouth is when he’s fucking you and how gently he wraps a blanket around your shoulders after. he brushes your hair back, wipes your tears away, kisses your fingers while you try to come down. “you did so good. i’m proud of you.” if he makes you cry during sex. overstimulation, rough words, the overwhelming feeling of being completely undone. he’ll cradle your face afterward like he’s never going to let go. the contradiction is addicting. you crave it before you even realize you do.

CHENLE: bratty switch. voyeurism. phone sex kink. chenle is cocky, loud, and doesn’t care who hears. if anything, he wants people to. he gets off on the idea that someone could catch him with his hand between your legs in a public place. bathroom stalls, the back of the van, against the wall of a dressing room with your moans muffled into his shirt. he doesn’t need full-on sex to get off. he just needs you to look at him the way you do when you're about to fall apart. he’ll whisper shit in your ear while you’re trying to keep a straight face in front of others. “you’re shaking. they can see that, you know.” he’s got a phone sex kink he doesn’t even try to hide. he calls you at night when he’s hard and whiny and too far away to do anything about it. “i can’t sleep. talk to me. tell me what you’re wearing.” his bratty energy comes out when he’s frustrated. when you tease him or hang up early or leave him hard on purpose. but he crumbles fast. if you moan his name and say you need him, he’s already rutting into his fist and gasping for breath. “fuck, i miss your pussy. i’d fuck you so good right now. i’d make you scream.” he’s a tease, but he breaks easily under the right touch.

JISUNG: obedient sub. hand kink. power exchange. jisung is all nerves and flushed cheeks at first, but he wants to give in. he’s just scared of getting it wrong. if you talk him through it. kiss his temple, tell him he’s doing well. he turns to mush in your hands. he follows orders with wide eyes and shaky breaths. “like this?” “am i doing okay?” he doesn’t want to take control. he wants you to take it from him. he’s most comfortable when he’s on his knees, hands behind his back, waiting for your next command. and when you praise him? he gets hard instantly. he has a hand kink he doesn’t understand but can’t deny. he stares when you touch him. trails your fingers down his chest, stroke his cock with slow, open-palmed movements, trace your thumb over his lips. it’s hypnotizing to him. you holding his jaw when he’s sucking you off. you gripping his hair when he moans too loud. you wrapping your fingers around his throat while he whimpers for more. he wants to be used. wants to make you feel good. and when he does? he’s glowing with pride, practically begging you to let him do it again.

SION: soft dom. oral fixation. possessive praise. sion wants to make you feel taken care of. physically, emotionally, and sexually. he has an oral fixation that’s more about intimacy than control. his lips find their way to your neck, your collarbone, your thighs, and finally between your legs like it’s instinct. he eats pussy like it’s a language he was born fluent in, like he’s worshiping something sacred. there’s no rush. he kisses your clit before he licks it. breathes in your scent with a low groan. and when your fingers tangle in his hair and you tell him not to stop, he moans into you like he’s the one coming. he’s a dom, but a gentle one. his possessiveness shows in how he speaks to you. soft, firm, with a hand around your waist and his voice warm in your ear. “mine. all mine. say it.” he’ll stroke your cheek, slide inside you slow, and tell you how good you’re doing with every thrust. even when he’s fucking you hard, his praise is constant. it’s obsessive in a way that feels safe. like he’d never let anyone else see you like this, touch you like this. when you fall apart for him, trembling under the weight of his body and his words, he kisses you through it. “so pretty when you break for me. you’re perfect. you’re mine.”

YUSHI: brat. teasing. light impact play. yushi knows exactly how hot he is, and he uses it to drive you insane. he’s mouthy, smug, always testing your patience. it’s a game to him. he’ll push your buttons with a cocky smile, roll his eyes when you get serious, and whine about your rules even as he breaks them. but the moment you pin him down, and tell him to stop? he folds. “i was just playing,” he says, but his voice is breathless, and his cock is hard, and he’s already spreading his legs wider. he wants to be punished. he just doesn’t want to admit it first. he thrives off teasing. if you take it slow. drag your fingers along his thighs, hover just above his dick, whisper filth in his ear. he’ll start squirming, fists clenching in the sheets. he begs with attitude, voice full of whines and curses. “fuck, just touch me already. what are you waiting for?” and when you finally give in, and ride him without mercy, his whole act shatters. he moans for it. cries for it. and when you ask him who owns him, he answers fast, no hesitation. “you. fuck, it’s you. only you.”

JAEHEE: quiet dom. restraint kink. voyeurism. jaehee is dangerous in the quietest way. he doesn’t raise his voice. he doesn’t need to. his dominance is calm, measured, almost clinical. he ties your hands behind your back and kisses your forehead before leaving the room. makes you wait on your knees, naked and aching, until he comes back and decides you’ve earned his touch. and when he touches you, it’s slow. focused. a single fingertip over your nipple, down your stomach, between your thighs. he learns your body like a study. not just what makes you cum, but what makes you beg. he has a voyeur streak he doesn’t talk about often. he loves watching you touch yourself while he sits back in a chair, legs spread, arms crossed, commanding every movement. “two fingers. no cuming yet.” he watches your body twitch and your breathing hitch with sharp, hungry eyes. if you disobey, he makes you do it again. and again. until you’re wrung out and ruined. when he finally fucks you, it’s possessive, purposeful, deep. “no one sees you like this but me,” he says, voice low as he wraps a hand around your throat and fucks you slow. “and no one ever will.”

RIKU: switch. overstimulation. praise + begging. riku might look quiet, but when he gets control, he’s unrelenting. he knows how to read your body. knows exactly when to slow down and when to ruin you. he’ll straddle your hips, pin your wrists gently above your head, and thrust deep and slow until you’re trembling under him. then he starts talking. “you feel that?” he asks, eyes locked on yours, voice low and dangerous. “you’re clenching like you want more. beg for it.” he loves the push and pull of control. when you try to take over, only for him to flip the script, hold you down, and fuck the fight right out of you. but riku breaks just as beautifully. if you edge him, ride him slow, kiss his throat and tell him how good he’s being. he starts falling apart. “please, please, don’t stop, i’m close..” he can’t handle your praise. his hips twitch when you call him perfect. his fingers dig into your waist when you say you own him like this. he’s vocal. messy. the kind of switch who wants to ruin and be ruined in the same night. whether he’s making you come over and over until you’re crying, or gasping through his third orgasm with tears in his eyes. he’s at his best when you’re both wrecked together.