yngjgn

LEE MINHO

Minho is cruelly playful and precise. He has you on your back with your legs folded against your chest, his cock dragging slowly against your sweet spot. He takes a deep hit, then grabs your face with both hands, squeezing your cheeks so your mouth opens like an obedient little toy. With a wicked smirk he presses his lips to yours and forces the thick smoke down your throat while snapping his hips forward.

“Held it like a good kitten,” he praises mockingly when you start to squirm. He doesn’t let you exhale immediately, instead he bites your lip and fucks you harder, only allowing you to breathe when your lungs burn. The moment you cough out the smoke he’s licking into your mouth again, tasting the desperation on your tongue. He repeats this over and over, using the shotgun kisses as torture, edging you until you’re crying and begging.

Minho especially loves doing it right when you’re about to cum, blowing smoke into you while choking you lightly, watching your eyes roll back as your orgasm crashes through the haze. He thrives on the mess: drool, smoke, and tears running down your face while he calls you his pretty, pathetic slut. After he’s done using your mouth and pussy, he finally softens, pressing gentle kisses to your smoky lips and stroking your hair.

SEO CHANGBIN

Changbin is intense, feral, and completely unrestrained when he gets like this. He has you on all fours, back arched deeply as he rails you from behind like an animal. His thick, muscular arm is locked around your throat, biceps bulging against your neck while his heavy cock stretches you open with every brutal thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as he suddenly pauses just long enough to grab the joint.

He takes a massive, lung-filling hit, then yanks your head back harshly by your hair, forcing your back to arch even more. Without warning, he crashes his mouth against yours in a rough, dominating kiss and blows thick, heavy clouds of smoke straight down your throat. “Take every fucking drop, princess,” he growls deeply against your lips, voice raspy and drenched in lust.

The force of his relentless pounding combined with the sudden rush of smoke makes your head spin instantly. Smoke pours out from the corners of your joined mouths as he kisses you sloppily, his tongue invading and claiming every inch of your mouth while he keeps fucking you mercilessly. His huge body cages you in, muscles flexing and sweat dripping onto your back. He loves feeling the way your pussy flutters and clenches hard around his cock every single time he shotguns you.

HWANG HYUNJIN

Hyunjin turns the shotgun kiss into pure erotic art. The room is dimly lit with only the soft glow of warm lamps and maybe a few candles. You’re straddling him in his bed, sinking down slowly on his cock as his long, messy hair fans out across the pillow like dark silk. His hands caress your thighs and waist with reverent touches before he reaches for the joint with elegant fingers.

He takes a graceful, deep hit, his sharp eyes never leaving yours. Then he cups the back of your neck with one hand and gently but firmly pulls you down into a slow, sensual kiss. As soon as your lips meet, he exhales the smoke languidly into your mouth. Thick, sweet clouds curl between your joined lips while his tongue dances with yours in long, filthy, erotic strokes, teasing, licking, sucking softly on your tongue like he’s savoring every second.

“You look so fucking pretty like this…” he moans breathily into your mouth, voice low and husky, “all hazy, flushed, and full of me.” One hand stays on your hip, guiding you to roll and grind on his cock in deep, sensual circles while he feeds you hit after hit. Each shotgun kiss becomes a performance. He sucks on your tongue, gently bites your lower lip, then dives back in deeper, whispering filthy worde between breaths.

HAN JISUNG

Jisung is eager, messy, and hopelessly addicted the second the high hits him. The moment he takes that first drag, his eyes glaze over with pure lust. Without saying a word, he grabs your hips and yanks you into his lap, pulling you down onto his cock in one impatient motion. He’s already painfully hard and leaking, twitching inside you before you’ve even settled.

“Fuck, I need this,” he mutters breathlessly. He takes another deep hit, then smashes his lips desperately against yours. The kiss is chaotic and sloppy right from the start. He pushes the thick, sweet smoke straight into your mouth while his tongue immediately dives in, tangling wildly with yours. Smoke escapes from the corners of your lips, spilling down your chins as he moans loudly into the kiss, completely unable to control himself.

His hands greedily squeeze and spread your ass, fingers digging into your flesh while he starts thrusting up into you frantically. His hips snap with needy, erratic strokes, chasing pleasure like he’s losing his mind. “You taste so fucking good like this,” he whines pathetically between hits, voice high and shaky. He lets out that adorable breathless giggle right against your mouth before diving back in even hungrier than before, licking and sucking on your tongue like he’s starving.

LEE FELIX

Felix’s deep voice and angelic face make the whole experience lethally intoxicating. He has you sitting in his lap facing him, your thighs straddling his hips as he slowly sinks you down onto his cock until he’s buried to the hilt inside your dripping heat. The room is dimly lit, his freckled cheeks already flushed as he picks up the joint with those long, pretty fingers.

He takes a long, slow hit, his dark eyes locked on yours the entire time. Then he cradles your face gently with both hands, thumbs stroking your cheeks with surprising tenderness before he pulls you in. His full, plush lips seal perfectly over yours as he exhales the sweet, thick smoke straight into your mouth, humming softly in that rich, velvet baritone that vibrates through the kiss. “Breathe me in, love,” he murmurs right against your lips, his tongue sliding in smoothly afterward, tasting like smoke and sin.

The contrast between his angelic visuals, soft blonde hair, sparkling eyes, gentle touch, and the filthy act of him blowing smoke into your lungs while his cock stretches you open makes your stomach flip with arousal. As the high starts hitting you harder, your movements grow faster and needier. Felix’s breathing gets heavier, his deep voice dropping even lower as he groans into your mouth.

KIM SEUNGMIN

Seungmin is teasing and mean in the most addictive way possible. He has you pinned beneath him in missionary, your legs spread wide and pushed back toward your chest so you’re completely open and helpless for him. His cock slides in and out of you with slow, deliberate strokes while he reaches for the joint with a lazy smirk.

After taking a long, deep hit, he looks down at you with that signature smug, condescending smile that makes your stomach twist. He grabs your jaw tightly with one hand, fingers pressing into your cheeks. “Open,” he commands coldly, voice low and firm. You obey instantly. He leans down and spits the thick smoke straight into your mouth in one controlled, arrogant exhale, watching with dark satisfaction as it fills your lungs.

Before you can even exhale, he seals his lips over yours, trapping the smoke inside while slowly rolling his hips, dragging his cock against your sensitive walls. “Can’t even handle my smoke properly? How cute,” he mocks, voice dripping with fake sympathy. He keeps his mouth on yours, only pulling back when your lungs start burning and your eyes water. The moment you gasp for air he chuckles softly, clearly enjoying how desperate you already look.

Seungmin edges you mercilessly with the shotgun kisses. He fucks you nice and slow, bringing you right to the brink with deep, precise thrusts, then takes another hit and forces the smoke into you again, refusing to let you cum. Every time you get close he stops moving completely, just kissing you messily and laughing at your frustrated whimpers. “Pathetic. You’re clenching so hard just from my smoke. Do you need to breathe that badly, baby?”

YANG JEONGIN

Jeongin is surprisingly confident and playful with it, especially once he’s comfortable with you. He’s lying back against the headboard with that signature fox-like smile, cheeks lightly flushed as he watches you sink down onto his cock. His hands grip your waist firmly, guiding you as you start riding him slowly.

He takes a smooth hit from the joint, his sharp eyes darkening with lust. With a mischievous grin, he pulls you down by the neck and blows the warm smoke straight into your mouth, immediately deepening the kiss like he’s been waiting for this all night. Even with his blushing cheeks, there’s no hesitation—he’s eager and a little greedy, chasing your tongue, sucking on your lips, and groaning lowly into your mouth while you grind on him.

“Mmm… feels even better when you’re high on me, noona,” he whispers breathlessly against your lips, voice already getting rougher. He gets bolder with every round. His hand slides up to hold your neck a little tighter, not choking but possessive, as he feeds you hit after hit. Each shotgun kiss becomes deeper and more demanding. He tilts his head, sucking on your tongue, biting your bottom lip, and licking into your mouth like he wants to devour every moan and every bit of smoke you breathe out.

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Your relationship with Minho had been effortless, almost perfect even.

He was considerate, a sweetie behind his sometimes stoic nature. He was a true gentleman, kind, caring and got along well with your family.

And well, you would probably describe his whole being as endearing.

He hugged you while he was asleep, pulling you against his chest, but would deny doing that the next morning.

He made you a cup of coffee first thing after getting up, even before he got the first sip himself, he would bring it to you when you refused to get up early.

He kissed you goodbye before heading to practice, lingering breaths left on your skin, his scent still burnt into your memory.

He texted you in every break, sending you a quick pic because he knew you were interested in his work.

He brought your favorite snacks with him when he came back home, telling you he thought you probably craved it all day.

But what you didn’t know about him were his desires deep down. When you smiled at him, eyes literally lighting up as soon as he did one of these things, there were these thoughts that almost plagued him.

When he held you close at night, his thoughts drifted off to a space where he imagined him pinning you down underneath him and fuck you into the mattress until you couldn’t speak, think or walk properly anymore.

When he made you breakfast in bed, there was this weird itch he had and it could only be properly smothered if he would fuck your face first thing in the morning instead.

When he kissed you before heading off to work, he always fantasized about pushing you against the wall and making you watch him ruin you all over in the broad mirror in the hallway.

When he sent you a selfie of him when he had a few minutes for himself, he had to fight the urge to facetime you and order you to show yourself to him in your entirety while he talked you through an orgasm.

When he stepped into your apartment in the evening, he wanted to jump at you so badly, his whole body screaming for him to bend you over the nearest surface.

But he did none of these things because he was kinda afraid to scare you off with it. Not all of his thoughts were that dark but all of them were full of filth. The two of you hadn’t been intimate yet, although your relationship was so fulfilling. It just hadn’t been the right time yet.

But in this very moment, your snuggle session on the couch while watching a movie had turned to him leaning over to you, kissing you slowly.

Your hands were so cutely braced against his chest, not shoving him away but feeling him. God, he really wanted to eat you whole - or eat you out, whatever happened first.

He moved his lips against yours, hand at the back of your neck to hold you in place like this. It wasn’t possessive, but firm and wanting. You let him, your heart fluttering and your stomach flipping out of excitement.

Minhos other hand ran up your thigh, squeezing your leg there before he cupped your core. Just for a second though, because your surprised gasp seemed to wake him out of his trance and he ended the kiss abruptly.

With his hands leaving you and him scooting away an inch, you felt your whole body tense up because of the loss of touch. This has been new but you wanted more, goosebumps formed on your skin.

“Sorry, I- uhhmm.. got a bit carried away”.

He looked at you so apologetically, shifting in his position as if it suddenly was uncomfortable to sit on the couch. You tilted your head in confusion, while in reality, he had to internally admit that the little sound you made just went straight to his cock.

“I liked it”, you finally said, voice trembling more than you had anticipated.

His face turned back to you.

“You did?”, he asked.

You fidgeted with your fingers in your lap, his gaze made your body heat up. You felt weird, but in a good way.

“So- you want me to continue?”.

There was a pause, dead silence hung thick in the air between you. Your heart was so loud in your chest, it was the only thing you were hearing right now. You were nervous, but you knew this was right. Maybe you should have told him your secret sooner, though. You weren’t just inexperienced, you had no experience at all.

With your next nod, Minho immediately pulled you towards him, guiding you to sit on his lap and straddle him. You couldn’t describe the sensation, everything was so new and scary, but so good. Minho on the other hand felt like he was hitting the jackpot, he knew he possibly couldn’t indulge in all of his desires, but finally having the person he loved - yes, he indeed loved you - on top of him, was better than he had dreamed.

His hands were wrapped around your waist now, fingers digging into your flesh as he applied pressure to your form, urging you to move on top of him. But well, you were clueless, clumsy. You didn’t know what to do.

“Move, Jagi. Please”, his voice was broken, he wanted to pull your face down to kiss you, but your breathing hitched - he stopped.

“I don’t know how”.

At first, he didn’t really know how to react to that, he just looked up to you.

“I’ve never done something like that before”, you quietly admitted, avoiding eye contact, “I’m- uhmm”.

You felt tears already forming in your eyes so you squeezed them shut. It was embarrassing, you thought, and it probably weirded him out.

But poor Minho just tried so hard to sort his thoughts because oh my god, he could be your first. It was scaring him, to be honest. He wanted your first time to be something you would happily look back to. But deep inside, something told him to taint you. To ruin you for everyone else. To make you his own forever.

His silence was making you anxious and the tears started rolling. The sting in your chest was humbling, you felt incredibly dumb that you let this get so close to you. You couldn’t stop it even if you tried, but when you tried to get off of him, his grip just got stronger.

“No no no no. Don’t cry, Jagi”, his arms wrapped around you to pull you closer, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pressured you”.

You froze, your heart beating against your ribcage relentlessly.

“You’re not.. appalled by the fact I’m a virgin?”.

Oh god, you said it. He wanted to hiss, to moan, to press you down onto his cock, to rip off all of your clothes at this instant.

He needed to take a breath, all of these thoughts were not helping in his wish to make you feel as best as possible.

“No, of course not”, he said, voice as calm as he could muster, “Just under pressure”.

Although your body was still shivering and you couldn’t yet stop your sobs, his gentle and soft expression was soothing, so you leaned against him in need of the comfort he was trying to provide.

“What do you mean?”.

His hand moved to the back of your head, slowly stroking your hair.

“Well, the first time can be- a bit much? I wouldn’t want you to get overwhelmed by me accidentally hurting you”.

He still was just being a sweetheart, face nuzzling into your neck, placing a careless kiss there. It sent a little spark down your spine, letting something bloom inside you. You started thinking. You liked how he had touched you, even with clothes on. He was so considerate, immediately stopping when you felt uncomfortable.

You were sure he would be the right one, you were sure that he would take care of you.

“I want it”, you whispered, “With you”.

He flinched, physically jolted and made a noise you couldn’t quite understand the meaning of, but when you sat up, you saw his pupils dilate. He trembled, whole body vibrating, his lips were parted.

Minho looked incredibly hot like this, more than he usually did. You smiled through the anxiety, raising a hand to stroke the hair out of his face.

“But you’ll have to guide me”.

It seemed like he wanted to say something, but no word came out, his fingers scrunched up the fabric of your hoodie.

“Are you sure?”, he asked softly.

You nodded, cupping his face gently, there was no hesitation. Sure, you were a bit afraid, nervous, curious, but you didn’t hesitate a second.

“You need to tell me what you like, okay? And give me a sign when anything feels off”, he said, hands gliding back down and resting on your hips, “And we’re only going as far as you feel like”.

It was so endearing, how nervous he seemed to be as well. He was lucky you couldn’t read his mind, because he was so fucking scared he couldn’t resist. He was scared he couldn’t fight the urge to choke you, to pull your hair, to throatfuck you, to humiliate you, to use words he would later regret. Scaring you away was the last thing he wanted but god, the idea of being your first and sculpting you the way he liked was so tempting. And he hated how toxic that sounded.

“I trust you”.

“I trust you, too”, he sighed.

It felt like a love confession, something that also didn’t happen out loud in your relationship. But it made your heart flutter either way.

“You want me to show you how to move- on.. top of me?”, his gaze was strong, you felt something inside you tighten involuntarily at it.

You nodded, his grip on you getting a bit tighter. Minho took a deep breath.

“Okay, with clothes on it’s- it’s about the friction”, he explained and pushed you away a bit, but pulled you back in quickly after that, “How does that feel?”.

The fabric of your jeans rubbed over your clit like this, your breath got stuck in your throat at the feeling. It was unfamiliar, but it pulled a little mewl out of you.

“Good”, you managed to get out.

“You can also like- move like this”, his hands guided you to gyrate your hips.

Oh, that was even better. The sensation was making you dizzy, you let your head fall back, hands on his shoulders gripping the fabric of his shirt harshly until your knuckles turned white.

You could feel him getting harder underneath you and it empowered you, it encouraged you to try and move a bit on your own.

“Yeah, just like that-“, he gasped through gritted teeth, clasping you desperately, “Kiss me”.

You leaned forward, connecting your lips and sighing in relief. The kiss was cautious at first, the both of you holding back before he sat up a bit, his erection bumping into your clit like this. You moaned at the same time and he used the opportunity to let his tongue swipe in between your lips.

It was oddly addicting, his taste so sweet that you immediately wanted more as soon as your tongues touched.

His hands bunched up your hoodie to touch your bare skin on your waist. The contact made you arch your back and break the kiss involuntarily. Minho hummed, shoving the fabric up some more, looking at you in a pleading way and silently asking you to take it off.

You did in a hurry, his hands frantically helping you to pull it over your head. It was discarded somewhere on the floor, completely forgotten. Minho had seen you just in a bra before, but he still looked at you in awe, taking you in and growling quietly. This made you feel confident enough to reach back and unclasp it. Minho died on the inside.

“Can you like- touch me? Like you did before?”, you felt your ears flush at this, newly gained confidence gone in an instant as soon as you had said these words.

He smirked, something mischievous glinting in those pretty eyes. His hands were roaming over your body, enjoying the feeling of your skin. Your breath hitched when his fingers danced over the curve right under your boobs.

“You did like that, huh, kitten?”.

He froze in his movements. Did he really just call you that? That was a momentarily slip of his deeper desires, he didn’t mean to do that. But the way you were still looking at him, so innocent, so precious, it just made sense in his distracted mind. The distraction being you, asking him this while you are sitting on his hardened dick like that. He threatened to fuck up.

But when he saw you nod, something inside him stirred. He stood up, lifting you with him to spread you out on the couch underneath him. There was a bit of hesitation before opening your pants and pulling them off completely. It was exciting, actually a bit scary, to be completely bare in front of him.

“I’ll start nice and slow, yeah?”, Minho cooed, “Or- tell me how you like it”.

“I-“, you hesitated.

And he stopped, before even reaching your thighs properly he had stopped mid movement.

“Have you never touched yourself?”, he asked then, voice dropping.

Once more, you felt humiliated. Not by him, but by yourself. You were an adult, yet, you knew nothing about stuff like this. A slow shake of your head made him move again, still leaning over you, but getting more distance between you to look down at you.

“I’m gonna teach you, yeah? I’ll show you how to make you feel good”.

Minho reached for your hand instead, placing it low on your stomach and gently shoved it down some more, your fingertips slightly gracing your folds like this.

“Starting easy, slow”, he muttered under his breath, dark eyes searching for your gaze and holding it.

He guided you to part them, going deeper so torturously slow. You reached your entrance, feeling the wetness and flushing heavily when you realized.

“Gather it, you can push the tip in if you want to”, he instructed you and you did as you were told, “Good- good girl, use it. Will feel better when it’s wet”.

You moved your hand up again, touching your clit and jolting immediately. It felt insanely good, little electric shocks and sparks rushing through your body whenever you rubbed your finger over it just slightly.

Minho watched you with an open mouth. You tried setting up a show for him, empowered by the lustful stare he had. He gripped the cushion of the couch, nails digging in. He was holding on for dear life, this was the most sinful scene he had ever witnessed. He wasn’t even touching you anymore, you were doing it all by yourself, but you still had him panting heavily.

“How does it feel, kitten? Tell me”, his voice was raspy, hoarse.

“It’s- so good”, you got out, your body reacting on its own and your hips bucking into your hand.

One of his hands touched you, pinning your hips down onto the couch to keep you in place.

“Push your finger in, slowly”.

You did, blindly following his instructions and shoving your middle finger in. You gasped at the intrusion - the sound turning into a whimper as soon as you heard his groan.

“Curl your finger- like this“, he showed you and you tried to mimic it, “Search for the spot. Go in deeper”.

You were so clumsy, not really knowing what he meant. You tried to, you really did, but failed miserably.

“Min-“.

“You want me to find it?”, he asked gently.

And you nodded. God, why did you nod? Minho was shivering, he was about to combust just by watching you eagerly trying to find your g-spot and now he had to do the same? Fuck.

But he couldn’t deny it to you now. Not with those pleading eyes. He sighed, his hand moving once you removed your own, your legs instinctively spreading wider for him. Minho had to bite his lip to keep his mouth shut - fearing he would drool if he didn’t.

He let his fingers slide through your juices, coating his fingers thoroughly before pushing one of them in. Your back arched off almost immediately. This felt so much better than your own attempt, your lack of experience once more humiliating you.

Minho was knuckles deep in, turning his wrist and- you moaned so loud, he thought he would cum into his pants if you did that again. He obviously had found it, your legs shaking at the intense feeling.

“Oh god-“, you choked.

You tried to memorize his movements, tried to picture what he was doing inside of you - but your brain stopped working for good.

“Feels good, yeah?”, he had the audacity to stroke the spot with the tip of his finger, pushing into it and bully your nerves with it.

“Min-“, all you could say was his name and damn, he loved it.

His mind drifted off. This wasn’t enough. He needed more. And when you even begged for more without him needing to say something, he felt like he was on cloud nine.

“What do you want, kitten? Another finger? Or my tongue? You’d let me taste you?”.

He hadn’t planned on suggesting things by himself. He wanted you to have the reins so nothing out of your comfort zone happened, but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. This was everything he had ever dreamed of.

“Taste me? How?”, your voice was so shaky, so innocent.

Minho hummed, his thumb gently pressing onto your clit. Your hands shot forward, gripping his arm, but he didn’t budge. He rubbed quick little circles onto your clit with utmost care - the strong pull in your stomach made you moan again.

“I can eat you out, if you want me to”.

“Huh?”, you asked, mind still empty.

He grinned, he couldn’t stop anymore. He was addicted to the power he had over you.

“You want me to do this with my tongue?”, he tried again.

“Huh?”.

God, he had you this dumb with just his fingers? He was in heaven.

“I need you to say yes or no”, he mused, he wasn’t even able to fight off the next sentence, “Or I’ll stop”.

“Yes-“, you thrashed, squirming because of the sensation, “Do it, please”.

Minho had to hold his breath for a second, composing himself. He just froze before he removed his hands from you completely. And for a moment, you thought you had said something wrong. But he sank down on his stomach, hands gripping the outside of your thighs to press you closer.

Minho took his sweet time with it, leaning in and letting his nose slide through your wetness, eyes not leaving you for a second. Honestly, he never had looked better than in this moment - between your legs, pupils so heavily dilated and vibrating from sheer lust overwhelming him.

You noticed how embarrassingly fast you were breathing, your bare chest heaving quickly and glistening in a thin layer of sweat.

He kissed the spot right above your clit, going deeper, caressing your folds very gently before darting his tongue out. He was easing you into the sensation, letting his tongue ghost over your skin before he gave your entrance a soft and short lick.

“Relax, kitten”, his voice was a low rumble that vibrated through your whole body.

Minho was fighting for his life right now, but he tried to keep himself grounded. He tried to be slow, to be gentle. But all he wanted was to devour you, fuck your pussy with his tongue and drive you into overstimulation. This was torture for him.

And it got harder the more sounds fell out of your mouth - he got bold enough to rub his nose along the sensitive bundle of nerves before latching his mouth onto it.

You jolted, hard. He definitely knew what he was doing, alternating between licking flat stripes over it and sucking your clit into his mouth and making you wail heavily.

There was a strong pressure in your pelvis, an unfamiliar tug that let your legs shake uncontrollably around his head. He relished in your reactions, your sounds, being completely lost in it. One of his hands left your thighs, his middle finger finding your entrance in no time to push in gently.

“Min- hahh- Minho, wait-“, your fingers entangled in his hair and you didn’t know if you wanted to pull him off or urge him closer in between your legs, “I- feels weird”.

“Ohh-“, Minho groaned, only momentarily being able to detach his mouth from your dripping pussy, “You’re close already? Fuck- this gonna be your first orgasm?”.

You nodded weakly. You were still thankful he wasn’t weirded out by the fact you were so inexperienced. It only spurred him on to make you feel even better, to give you the best release you’ll ever have and love to think back to it.

He inserted another finger, pulling them out and fucking them back in gently but quickly. The pull in your lower stomach made you gasp out in shock and you wanted to close your legs instinctively, but he held them open, a strong hand even pushing one of them up a bit.

“Don’t worry, kitten. I got you. Just relax and let go for me, yeah?”, he muttered, licking up from your entrance to your most sensitive spot, “Cum all over my face, jagi”.

You couldn’t stop the explosion of built up anticipation, the knot in your stomach ripped apart with a blinding force and you lost control over your body completely. You seized up, eyes rolling back into your skull and god no, you weren’t moaning anymore. You were screaming his name so loudly, it echoed off the walls, pulling at his hair so harshly, you could hear him grunt and hiss both in pleasure and pain whenever you needed to gasp for air.

His fingers continued to fuck into you, pulling the orgasm into an excruciating length. You gushed around them, soaking the sheets beneath you and Minho was more than happy to lap it all up as if it was the best meal he ever had.

“Fuck”, he grunted, still not done, still too fixed onto your used pussy, “That’s it, kitten. Good fucking girl for me”.

It was too much, you were so sensitive. You weakly pushed at his shoulders, trying to signal him to give you a break. It worked, he slowly snapped out of his daze, but it was so hard to do so. Minho really had to remind himself to keep it easy, to not overwhelm you too much, but he needed more than that.

His heart and cock ached all the same for you, he wished he could manhandle you onto your knees and-

God, he had to stop thinking about it.

He retracted his fingers, shivering. Your ears probably turned beet red when you saw his glistening face, some of your mess still dripping from his chin. There was a smug grin on his wet lips when he noticed, he leaned back over you, face hovering over yours.

“You want a taste, huh? Admiring your work?”.

He kissed you, his tongue swiping over your lower lip and prying your mouth open with it. You gasped heavily, your hands cupping his cheeks and pulling him in deeper.

Minho groaned, he couldn’t help it. He needed relief so badly and you were there, fully naked right there underneath him. Your soft body so close, full on display.

He rocked his hips forward once, just once. And he was gone. Another groan from him, muffled by your own mouth. It just felt so good, he pressed his twitching cock against your core over and over again, thinking about how it would possibly feel like to sink into your tight heat. How it would feel like when he pinned you down. How it would feel to fold you in half just to hear you scream his name like that again.

“Min-“.

“Huh?”, he made.

He forced himself to still, but his whole body was vibrating. He really hoped you wanted to tell him that you needed a break. Or wanted to stop right there. He wouldn’t be able to control himself if you kept this pace up.

“Can I touch you now?”, you asked reluctantly.

Minhos brain short circuited.

“You- why?”.

“I don’t know- I want to make you feel good”, you said, your hands settling in his shoulders, “But you’ll have to show me how”.

Minho was about to burst. You were so innocent, adorable. He sighed deeply, sitting back against the backrest.

You crawled over to him, but instead decided to get up and kneel on the floor in between his spread legs to have better access. This would be Minhos downfall, he knew it. The way you looked up at him so patiently, waiting for him to guide you.

The bulge of his cock pressing against his pants was impressive, you thought. You reached for it, cautiously wrapping your fingers around the curve.

“Ohh- fuck-“, he gasped.

You weren’t even properly touching him, no skin on skin. But it was enough to make him lean back, slump against the cushions and let his mouth hang open.

Your eyes were watching him attentively, searching for any kind of discomfort you would make him feel with your lack of experience. But you could clearly see he found that endearing. His gaze was so fondly yet so lustful, every little hesitating twitch of your fingers made him gasp.

For the first time this evening, you noticed that Minho was turned on by it. And that changed everything for you.

“Can I pull it out?”, you asked, tilting your head.

He nodded, his fingers digging into the couch on each side of him.

Just like he did, your actions were slow. You remembered how exciting the anticipation had felt and you wanted him to experience the same. And Minho loved how bold you were with it, how much courage you seemed to muster, but also how you seemed to get behind the things he liked.

You unbuttoned his pants, pulled down the zipper. You were still nervous, you had to bite your tongue slightly before you reached into his boxer briefs while pulling the waistband down a bit. Minho lifted his hips to help you, gasping softly when you finally touched him.

It was a bit intimidating to see his cock up close. He was hard, in a deep red color and a drop of liquid was already daring to drip down.

“You can- wrap your hand around it. Gentle”, Minho said, taking your hand into his to guide your fingers around it.

You squeezed him once, earning a hiss from him. He bucked his hips up, couldn’t stop himself from tucking into your hand with leisure and shallow little thrusts.

“Fuck- sorry”, he groaned, “Move your hand, yeah? You can twist it a little”.

He moved with you, showing you how he liked it, but let his hand fall to his side when you slowly got the hang of it. Seeing him falling apart like this probably was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. Minho let his head fall back, every breath he took shaking and in uncontrolled gasps.

“Does that feel good?”, you asked.

Minho grinned, laughing a bit hoarsely.

You really knew what you were doing to him. You knew and you were teasing him. Little brat.

“Feels amazing, kitten”, he huffed, “Wanna taste it?”.

Minho hadn’t planned on asking you that - he hadn’t planned any of it. But he could see that little mischievous glint in your eyes. He wondered what made you so bold, although you had no experience. Either way, this was a dream come true for him.

“You’d let me?”, your head tilted a bit.

Minho wanted to bite his fist.

You leaned in, darting your tongue out to lap up the drop of pre cum.

God, how was he supposed to stop himself from fucking your mouth like this? You were so hesitant and unsure, but you still kissed the tip of his cock and licked over it so slowly, his eyes rolled back into his skull.

“Fuck-“, it was barely a sound, muttered under his breath.

“Tell me what feels good“, you demanded, your hand still on his base.

“Hahh- just- take it into your mouth first”.

You parted your lips obediently, sinking down and taking him inch by inch. Minho trembled, digging his fingers deep into the cushions to fight the urge to grab your head and hold it in place to fuck you into the wet heat.

“We can try that if you want to”, you said, “Why not?”.

Oh god.

Did he really just say that out loud?

“I- no”, Minho stuttered, but couldn’t contain the next groan when you licked the underside of his cock up to the head.

“I trust you, baby”, you said again.

“Don’t”, he laughed, “I don’t think I could handle this if you let me”.

There was a little whimper on his lips when you sucked on the tip for a second, that urged you to take his hand - pry it off the cushions to guide it to your cheek.

“I want you to show me how to properly do it. Show me exactly how you want it, Min”.

“Fuck- but- you gotta-”, he couldn’t control his body, his hand slipping to the back of your head before he roughly thrusted up into your mouth.

You gagged around his length, but still found a lot of appeal in the feeling of it reaching so far inside, you could feel it hitting the back of your throat. Minho groaned with a very broken sound.

“Sorry, kitten, it just feels so-“.

Should he do it again? Damn, it felt so good, but-

“Do it again”, you gasped.

Something snapped inside of Minho. He felt it. You did too. You saw it in his eyes, the way he stared down at you - he held his breath, there was silence for a second.

Then, his other hand crept towards you, fingers gripping your hair to push your head all the way down once, twice. He grunted again.

“Fuck, take it then”.

Your hands grabbed his thighs, bracing yourself. Although you were struggling, trying hard to keep your body as slack as possible so he could push you down whenever he liked it - you couldn’t deny how hot this was.

Minhos face was scrunched up in the darkest and deepest form of pleasure, brows furrowed and eyes half lidded as he moaned loudly every time you gasped. You felt your pussy dripping, ruining the carpet underneath you.

“Kitten-“, Minho cooed breathlessly, “If I had known your pretty mouth takes my cock so well- God”.

His movements were erratic, frantic, but still had some kind of rhythm in it. It helped you breathe more constantly through your nose and you couldn’t hold back your own moans as this scene in front of you was too good to look away unaffected.

He alternated between pushing your head down and pulling it back up by your hair and thrusting up in quick snaps of his hips.

You wondered how his cock would feel like when it was inside your pussy, you imagined it hitting the same spot he had shown you with his fingers - just like it was now hitting your throat every single time.

It was impossible to try and fight the urge to let one of your hands slip in between your legs. It was hard to concentrate and memorize what he had told you, how his fingers had curled inside of you. It was embarrassing how wet you were, your own arousal mixing with his saliva into a sinful liquid that you used to rub over your clit with a more intense feeling.

“You look so fucked out, kitten. So pretty. You like when I fuck your mouth like this? You like being used for my pleasure?”.

He pulled you up far enough so his cock slipped out of your mouth, a harsh grip angling your head up to look up at him.

“Tell me. You enjoy choking on that dick?”, he asked, his thumb gently removing your spit from your lower lip in a heavy contrast to his previous actions.

“Yes- I love it”.

“Are you touching yourself? Getting off to being throatfucked? Am I really turning you into such a filthy slut? Damn-“, he mocked you and your pussy acted accordingly by throbbing against your hand.

You nodded hastily, the friction against your clit felt so good, your mind was so empty.

“You’d let me cum into your mouth? Be a good girl and swallow it for me?”.

He wasn’t afraid of going overboard anymore. Not with your bright grin and enthusiastic nod.

“I’m already close, kitten. You’re doing so well. Just a little longer, yeah?”, his voice was hoarse but gentle.

You took him back into your mouth by yourself, but proceeded to let him do as he pleased again. His cock twitched heavily and relentlessly against your tongue. The circles on your clit got faster, trying to find the same rhythm he had chosen, but his thrusts were uncontrolled and messy.

The amounts of groans and moans were getting more and more with every passing second, and he was right, he was very close.

One last push on your head, combined with him burying his dick as deep as possible to force his cum down your throat. You gagged, swallowed around him and it only seemed to make his orgasm even more intense.

His grip on your hair was rough, pulling at it to smother down the intense feeling and you were almost finishing yourself when the pain mixed with the pleasure. But he let you breathe as soon as he stopped spilling inside of you, his hands leaving you completely as you came up again.

Minho was certain. You had never looked hotter than in this moment. Your eyes were almost crossing, breathing heavily as his cum was still dripping from your lips.

His cum tasted salty, it was heavy on your tongue, but also kinda addicting. The reminder that you actually managed to make him feel that good.

This has been more than Minho had expected, more than he even dreamed to ever happen. His heart soared, felt light.

“I love you”, he muttered.

You didn’t even hesitate.

“I love you too”.

You climbed into his lap without thinking, wrapping your arms around him and pulling close. He was still incredibly hard, pressing against your core and making both of you gasp.

“I love you”, he whispered again, leaning in some more to kiss you chastely, “I love you so much”.

“I’ve waited so long for you to say that”, you mused, combing his hair back and out of his face.

“I know”, his hands wrapped around your waist, gently rubbing you, feeling you, “And I’m sorry about that”.

You shook your head, signaling him he didn’t need to. You looked at each other and you could clearly see how enamored Minho was. His gaze was so soft, so gentle after what just had happened.

“I want to feel you-”, you said quietly, hands searching for his skin under his shirt, which he quickly discarded, “Inside of me”.

Minhos grin was silly.

“Kitten, I don’t know if I can last that long”, he chuckled, “We don’t have to do it right now, you know?”.

But your body and your mind were so certain. You were sure you wanted this. Maybe - it was more of a need than a want. And to be honest, you probably would reach another orgasm very quick as well, you were still all riled up.

“I don’t care”, you said, feeling bold enough to grind down on him and making him gasp in surprise.

“Damn- I really did that to you”, he shook his head, “Let me get a condom, I’ll be right back”.

You shook your head.

“I said I wanted to feel you”.

He swallowed audibly before he groaned. You felt him twitch underneath you, urging you to rock your hips forward - just like he had shown you.

“Kitten- I don’t know what to say”, he huffed.

“Don’t say anything- just- fuck me”.

Your hands came up his chest, reaching for his pecs and letting your nails graze over the skin.

“Fuck- you’re going to be the death of me”, he helped you lifting yourself up, a hand around his cock guided himself to your entrance, “Go slow, yeah? You decide the pace”.

You nodded, letting him sink in slowly. He hissed, eyes closed in a concentrated and pleasure twisted face. Your heart was loud, you could hear it ring in your ears and it drowned out every other sound - you almost missed Minhos choked out moan.

“God- you feel- so fucking tight”, a hand left you, balling into a fist so he could dug his teeth into it, “Slow down-“.

But you didn’t even think of it, your pussy sucked him in greedily. It didn’t want you to go any slower. You arched your back, the feeling of his cock reaching so deep and dragging against your walls was mind blowing.

“I said fucking slow down-“, his hands squeezed your hips to make you stop right when he bottomed out, “I’m gonna cum- stop”.

“You- Min”, you were already trembling, already on the verge of your release, “You’re filling me up so good”.

The sound he made led to you clenching down on his length. The feeling of his cock stretching you out wasn’t even hurtful, it was grounding, intense and breathtaking.

“Don’t say shit like that- makes me want to-“.

“Do whatever you want with me”, you breathed, letting your head fall back while you gripped his shoulders and held on for dear life, “Please, fuck me”.

He didn’t even answer, he grabbed you and flipped you over - just like he had done it before when you had been in this position. He held himself up on his knees, his hands holding onto the lower part of your hips for leverage. His thrusts were harsh, relentless, but already stuttering.

“Min- hahh-“.

You didn’t even know what you wanted to say, but you weren’t able to speak either way. He was fucking you into the couch, making it squeak underneath you and punching every thought out of your brain with every snap of his hips.

It sent you over the edge immediately. This orgasm was even more intense, crushing your lungs as you tried to gasp for air.

“Fuck- fuck- you wanted this, gonna fill you up, make you mine”.

His cock was probably bruising your insides, marking you in the best way possible and claiming your pussy for good when he came inside of you with a guttural moan. You felt him twitch as he reached his peak, spilling as deep inside of you as possible and fucking his cum in every crevice of your walls. You whimpered, whined loudly out of overstimulation, but you didn’t want him to stop. The waves of endorphins were paralyzing your whole body, every muscle was seizing and relaxing in sync with his thrusts and your heartbeat.

It took him some time to come down, to even realize he was still moving - as if your pussy had entranced him and made him drunk on the sensation.

God, Minho really hoped this wasn’t a dream. Because now, when he had you like this once - he would make sure to fulfill every single one of his darkest thoughts. He was certain you’d love it.

@isa-mi-aldini @rianzysworld @mieuracha @simpdemon1 @babybutterballl @deaddcrow @burntbang @rory-cakes @straystar-8 @honeyyyy21 @karlee10261990 @aiyanotfound @alex-rabbit @angelstarsthings @pineapple-burgah @a2dkive @smuttaburger @st4rprincess @rikibabyyy @kloversung @staarflowerr @yessirfelix @minniebitesfr @vernorica123 @imoosgnaj @ye0lkkot @aziaraei @geni-627 @alexeclipse18 @rafesbunniebby @ghost-cas @vxyselectric @lizal1cious @spicypeppers143 @qxlvslx @floofeh-purpi @purdey-08 @angelstarsworld @ariaaleelynn @becrazy--beyou @hyunjinswife4ever @lostinmymind-daydreaming @ylstacy @hyunniesprincess @zerefdragn33l @bee-gremlin @evanesc3nce @sammhisphere @pineappleonmyburger

You sighed in relief when you let yourself fall onto your couch after a long day of work and running some errands after that. You had just slipped into some comfortable clothes and relished in the thought that you could relax for the rest of the day.

Pulling your phone out for the first time in hours, you immediately realized that relaxing was off the table.

You had multiple missed calls from Seungmin, several messages of him asking what you’re doing, if everything was okay and why you couldn’t answer the phone.

The pleas of answering or calling him back soon turned into heated orders, you could literally tell he was mad typing these. You sat in an upright position again, scrolling down to the latest message.

‘That’s it, I’m coming over’

Seungmin was supposed to be at work, he was a SWAT officer, he couldn’t just leave there. But still, you soon heard some banging against the front door.

“Open up!”

You felt goosebumps all over your body, you almost didn’t recognize his voice. It was so loud, so menacing and threatening.

“Open immediately, or else I will force my way in”.

This situation was weirdly arousing to you, the unrelenting fierceness in his tone was making you wet in no time. And as much as you probably liked seeing him burst in, you knew better and got up to follow his orders.

Instead of him giving you a kiss after entering the apartment like he always did when coming home, he shoved you inside roughly and kicked the door close with a foot.

“Hands against the wall,” he said flatly, voice thundering.

You couldn’t react to it at first, being completely stunned by him in his uniform - he always looked so damn good in it. Especially when he came home after work, sometimes having such a busy day he couldn’t even change before leaving—looking exhausted and sweaty because of the weight of the heavy duty clothes.

Now he looked more agitated than exhausted, pressing your front close to the wall until it was harder to breathe.

“Do what I say, I will use force.”

Your body moved, sliding your hands up and placing them on each side of your head.

“Seungmin-“ you began, but were cut off when he grabbed your wrists to pull them behind your back.

The roughness of his acts was new, unfamiliar, but you couldn’t help but find it intriguing.

“It’s ‘officer’ to you,” he growled.

“Officer-“ you bit down on the giggle forming in your throat, “What did I do?”

“You tell me,” he held your wrists in place with one hand, the other reaching for his handcuffs, “You didn’t answer any of my texts. Got something better to do?”

He handcuffed you quickly, years of experience making his movements swift and without any resistance from you, he had you restrained in seconds. Seungmin didn’t even need to hold you in place like this anymore, his hands were wandering.

“I was at work-“ you stopped when one hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you backwards until your head hit his shoulder, “And I was in the city after that.”

“Uh-huh, yeah. Did you meet up with that co-worker?”

Seungmin was a jealous man. Maybe that was an understatement. When the two of you were out together, he made sure to always leave a hand on you. He’d lace his fingers with yours or grab your hips or waist when you were standing close, signaling everyone you were his and only his.

“No I didn’t,“ you said, gasping when his hand was closing around your windpipe some more, asserting pressure to the sides.

You had a co-worker who didn’t understand Seungmin’s signals that you were already taken. That, or he didn’t want to understand. He would make advances with the dark haired man literally standing next to you.

“I feel like you’re lying,” he huffed, his tone changing for a moment, almost soft.

“No, he- he just approached me when I was getting groceries.”

Seungmin clicked his tongue, angling his leg to shove it between your thighs and push you forward against the wall again.

“Ahh, I see. So that’s how it is,” he chuckled a bit, “Followed you unnoticed and thought he could get away with it? What did he want, huh?”

While a hand stayed firmly against your right shoulder blade, the other reached in between your legs. One of his feet nudged your own further apart so he had better access. He wasn’t feeling merciful enough to shove your shorts aside or down so you could feel his fingers directly on your skin.

“Min-“ you huffed, resting your cheek on the wall.

Another frustrated sound from him.

“Officer-“ you corrected yourself without him needing to say something, “Please, just-“

“Ah ah ah-“ he cooed, head shaking slowly, “Rewards are for good girls who are compliant. This is an interrogation, jagi”.

His finger slid over your clothed folds, tip pressing into the spot where your entrance was. He was obviously teasing you with it, his hot breath on your neck was only making it worse.

“He- He didn’t want anything special. He asked if I wanted to grab a coffee with him.”

Seungmin froze in his movements, a frown formed on his face, eyebrows furrowed.

“What did you answer?” his voice was a growl.

His treatment was torture, you could feel the warmth of his hand through the fabric of your shorts but that wasn’t enough.

“I said no,” you whimpered and earned a gift, one finger indeed slipped inside your shorts to rub over your folds from behind.

“So tell me then,” he mused, movements stopping, “Why did you ignore me all day?”

You didn’t dare to move your hips to get friction yourself, knowing it would only lead to a punishment in his riled up state. Although you really, really wanted to.

“I didn’t mean to.”

“But?” he asked, wanting to hear an explanation.

But you could only groan in frustration, this was going for too long. You weren’t able to fight the urge to grind your pussy against his fingers, but he immediately retracted.

“I was just busy, Min- seriously, just fuck me already.”

Seungmin growled, muttering something you couldn’t understand under his breath.

“Don’t be so cruel, I know you want it too. Stop pretending,” you said, soon enough regretting that.

“You want to be fucked? Fine,” he grabbed you by your bound wrists and hauled you away from the wall to shove you into the apartment, “Maybe you need to get that damn attitude fucked out of your brain.”

Getting into the open kitchen, he bent you over the dining table, roughly shoving your face against the wood with a hand on your neck.

“You stay like that. Move an inch and I’ll leave you handcuffed to the bed and go back to work. If I feel generous enough, I won’t set the vibrator too high,” he moved back to pull your shorts and underwear down all together, “Got that?”

You trembled and shivered because of his words, there was no need to explain this any further, so you nodded hastily. He already scared away your complaints.

“Yes-“

“Yes, who?” he pulled the shorts and panties down rather unceremoniously, slapping your right cheek once - quick but powerful.

“Yes, officer,” you whined.

“That’s more like it,” he cooed, satisfied.

Both hands grabbed your ass, spreading the cheeks slightly before wandering up, shoving your shirt upwards to grip your hips properly. He played with you, enjoyed how you couldn’t do anything against it.

“Did you earn preparation?” Seungmin asked, his fingers dangerously close to your entrance again.

You whined, his other hand pressed down onto your lower back, making it impossible for you to move. The bulge in his uniform pants was obvious, it touched your naked skin and made you want to grind against him even more.

“No.”

“Hmm, good job. You’re right, pup,” he chuckled, voice so soft all of the sudden.

You loved the nickname, it made you weak. You were lucky you were bent over the table and didn’t need to stand on your own because your knees were so wobbly.

“But still, I’ll have mercy. You get one finger,” the softness of his voice was gone as he shoved his middle finger inside.

You jolted at the sudden intrusion, but moaned out loud immediately. He was mean with it, obviously skipping your g-spot on purpose, only fucking you with his finger to stretch you a bit.

“Officer-“ you gave in, played along.

“Ohhh,“ the grin on his lips was evident in his tone, “You have something to say in your defense?”

This wasn’t enough, you needed more than that. And you needed it now.

“More-“ you whimpered, “Please, more.”

Seungmin clicked his tongue, sighing in frustration before pulling his finger out again.

“Greedy slut,” he cursed, “You really don’t deserve that preparation.”

You heard him unbuckle his belt, the pull down of his zipper.

“But it’s okay, bratty pup just needs to be tamed, right?”

He pushed in, slow but steady, shoving his dick inside your pussy until he bottomed out. You choked because of the feeling of being so intensely stretched out, so intensely full. It pushed the air out of your lungs.

“So tight-“ Seungmin hummed, losing himself for a second the moment he got to be inside of you, “You’re taking me so well, pup. Almost want to forgive you for acting up.”

The grip on your hips was punishing, the way he partially pulled out and snapped forward again was probably bruising you from the inside.

“Is that what you wanted? Ignoring me all day just for me to put you back into your place?” he snarled, one hand grabbing your bound wrists to pull back and force you into an arch.

You couldn’t answer, the force of his thrusts smothered every thought that dared to form. Your whole body just went slack, already dumb.

“I want an answer, pup,” he halted, not moving an inch.

“I- I can’t-” you sobbed, the stretch still so intense, the way he pressed into your g-spot made your eyes roll back into your skull.

“Fucked dumb already?” Seungmin scoffed, “That was fast. Can’t even speak anymore.”

His humiliating tone was going straight between your legs, your walls clenching and gripping him.

“Ohh- but your pussy can talk. Seems like I have to interrogate her, then.”

He pulled you back by your hips, basically forcing you to fuck yourself on his dick like this. You liked the rough treatment, it was embarrassing how immensely it turned you on.

“She’s sucking me in-“ he mused, the snap of his hips getting a bit shallower, “Trying to bribe me here? Trying to seduce me into corruption?”

You heard how his voice slurred, the little grunts of exhaustion. He didn’t want to show how much he liked this as well, how much he liked to play the role of the bad cop, how close he already was as well.

“You think you’ve learned your lesson? Giving that dumb guy more attention than me? Fuck-“ he talked himself into a trance, even ignoring what a big mess you made out of his uniform pants.

He hadn’t even bothered with pulling his pants down, just opened them enough so he could take his cock out. With every time he bottomed out, the fabric grinded against your wet pussy.

“Yes! Yes, I did,” you replied, endorphins starting to flush your nervous system the closer you got to your release.

“I don’t think you did,” he laughed, “Pussy says otherwise, she wants more. Slutty hole loves the punishment.”

Seungmin hauled you up into his arms, forcing you to stand on your legs. The sudden change in position made you let out a gasped whimper, he reached impossibly deeper like this. One of his hands sneaked around your throat, holding you close.

“I could tame you all night, pup. I’ll fuck that other guy out of your memory,” he growled, but pressed a kiss to your sweaty temple.

“Officer-“ you sobbed, not daring to call him by his name, although it was all you could think of.

You felt the familiar tug in your lower stomach, the knot that was about to burst - his hand splaying out on your lower stomach and pressing onto it didn’t really help.

“Bet you can feel me so deep, right, pup?”, he was on the verge of losing control, you could hear it.

“Gonna-“ you couldn’t finish the sentence properly, the pressure of his fingers on your throat was too much, “Gonna cum-“

“You don’t get to cum,” he growled, but continued to fuck you, “Say you’re mine and I’ll consider letting you finish.”

Your whole body was trembling at this point, you were so incredibly exhausted.

“I’m yours,” you breathed, voice only a whisper.

“Louder, I can’t hear your pathetic whines over how loud your pussy is.”

He was right though. The squelching noises whenever he moved were obscene, they were echoing from the walls of the kitchen.

“I’m yours!” you tried again, “Just yours.”

“Damn right, you are. Cum on my cock then, show me how sorry you are.”

His words shoved you roughly over the edge, your orgasm hit you without warning, although you had been so close for so long. It was intense, blinding you and making you moan so loud it was humiliating.

“That’s it, tell them who fucks you this good”, he grunted, following you with his own release.

He fucked his cum into you, as deep as possible, not stopping until he was too exhausted to move himself.

Both of you stayed like this for a moment, the grip on your throat getting softer with every second.

“How are your wrists?” he asked calmly.

Your hands were numb, to be exact, the blood flow had been cut by the way you had been pulling on your restraints.

“Probably sore by tomorrow,” you answered in a whine, “Along with the rest of me.”

“Good,” he snapped his hips forward once more, your thighs bumping into the table so hard it almost hurt, “Maybe you’ll remember how to behave.”

@isa-mi-aldini @rianzysworld @mieuracha @simpdemon1 @babybutterballl @deaddcrow @burntbang @rory-cakes @straystar-8 @honeyyyy21 @karlee10261990 @aiyanotfound @alex-rabbit @angelstarsthings @pineapple-burgah @a2dkive @smuttaburger @st4rprincess @rikibabyyy @kloversung @staarflowerr @emmalabo @minniebitesfr @vernorica123 @imoosgnaj @ye0lkkot @aziaraei @geni-627 @alexeclipse18 @rafesbunniebby @ghost-cas @vxyselectric @lizal1cious @spicypeppers143 @qxlvslx @floofeh-purpi @purdey-08 @angelstarsworld @ariaaleelynn @becrazy--beyou @hyunjinswife4ever @lostinmymind-daydreaming @ylstacy @hyunniesprincess @zerefdragn33l @bee-gremlin @evanesc3nce @sammhisphere @pineappleonmyburger

felix should have warned you before introducing you to his group. instead, he had only grinned the entire drive over, one hand lazily drumming against the steering wheel while saying things like “just don’t let chan scare you off.” as if that could have prepared you for what would happen.

but you understood the second you walked in. the room shifted around him. conversations paused when he spoke. people looked at him before making decisions. even sitting back against the couch with one arm slung over the backrest, chan carried himself like he owned the place and everyone inside it.

and apparently, everyone let him.

your first impression of him settled quickly: arrogant. controlling. the kind of man who expected obedience simply because he existed.

his first impression of you formed just as fast. too observant.

he noticed the way your eyes tracked everything, the way you watched interactions instead of trying to force yourself into them. most people met him and got nervous. eager to please. careful with their words.

you didn’t. worse, you looked at him like something didn't sit right.

felix introduced you with an easy grin, entirely unaware of the tension that sparked the moment chan’s gaze landed on you.

chan leaned back slightly, eyes dragging over you once before he gave a curt nod. “heard a lot about you.” you smiled politely but your tone sounded anything but. “ditto.”

a few people in the room choked on their drinks. felix looked between the two of you like he’d just realised he accidentally lit a match near gasoline.

chan's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. and that was the beginning of it.

after that, it became a pattern, predictable in the most irritating way possible. every time you showed up, chan noticed immediately.

it didn’t matter if he was mid-conversation, or across the room pretending not to pay attention, the second you walked in, his focus shifted. like some invisible thread pulled tight between you.

you noticed it too. the way his eyes found you first. always. and somehow, every single interaction between the two of you turned into a fight.

“we’re ordering from rossi’s,” chan announced one night from the kitchen, barely glancing up from his phone. “rossi’s is awful,” you said immediately.

a silence fell over the room. han muttered, “oh, here we go.” chan looked up slowly. “awful?”

“their pasta tastes microwaved.”

“it’s italian. one of the only italian places around here."

“that doesn’t automatically make it good.”

he stared at you for a second too long before scoffing softly. “you always this difficult?”

you leaned against the counter. “you always this bossy?”

his mouth twitched, like he was trying not to smile.

that should’ve warned you. because after that, he started seeking you out. deliberately.

if you sat somewhere, suddenly chan needed that exact spot. if you disagreed with something, he’d argue just to keep you talking longer. if someone else interrupted your banter, he looked annoyed by it.

and the worst part? you kept engaging. every single time.

“move,” he told you one evening when you stole his usual seat on the couch. you looked up from your drink. “there are six other places to sit.”

“that’s my spot.”

you scoffed, “sounds made up.” the room went quiet again. felix was already grinning into his drink.

chan stepped closer, towering over the couch while you refused to move even an inch. “you enjoy testing me.”

“you enjoy acting like a fucking dictator.”

“someone has to keep order around here.”

you snorted. “order? how dramatic."

his eyes narrowed. yours sparkled with amusement.

and there it was again, that awful little pull between irritation and entertainment that neither of you seemed capable of escaping.

because no matter how much chan acted annoyed by you, he kept looking for reasons to provoke you. he’d throw comments your way from across the room just to watch you snap back.

he learned exactly what got reactions out of you. the fastest way to make you glare. the quickest way to make you roll your eyes. the comments that made your lips twitch because you were trying not to laugh.

and god, he loved when you laughed. especially if it was usually at his expense.

“you know,” you said one night after he interrupted somebody for the fifth time, “normal people let others finish speaking.”

“normal people have useful things to say.”

you groaned in annoyance, “see? this is exactly why i can’t stand you.”

“funny." he drawled, eyes fixed on you over the rim of his drink, “why do you keep talking to me then?"

your stomach flipped annoyingly hard at that. because he was right. you looked away before anyone noticed the heat crawling into your face.

but later that night, while everyone else talked around him, you caught chan watching you from the other side of the room, completely focused, making it feel far more dangerous than the arguing ever had.

chan realised something was wrong the first time you followed him without actually being there.

he was at the studio, headphones hanging around his neck while he stared blankly at the unfinished track glowing on the monitor in front of him. one hand tapped impatiently against the desk. the bass loop repeated. and repeated. and repeated.

all because his brain kept replaying something stupid you’d said three nights ago. “you always act like you’re in charge even when nobody asked you to be.”

he could still hear the smugness in your voice. could still picture the look on your face when you’d said it.

“for fuck’s sake,” he muttered under his breath, dragging both hands over his face. it was ridiculous. you were ridiculous. annoying. argumentative. impossible.

so why the hell was he thinking about you while trying to work? even worse, why did the thought of you make his chest tighten strangely?

he shoved the feeling away immediately. hatred. obviously. that had to be what this was.

except hatred usually didn’t make his pulse jump every time his phone lit up with a message in the group chat, secretly hoping it was you.

hatred shouldn't make his cock hard. and it definitely shouldn't make his thoughts slip to you when he was jerking off.

hatred shouldn’t have made him notice your absence the second he walked into felix’s apartment friday night.

he asked about you before he could stop himself. felix looked up so fast it was almost suspicious. “damn,” he said slowly. “you didn’t even say hi first.”

chan frowned immediately. “i was just asking.” felix smirked at that, “sure you were.”

he ignored the grin spreading across felix’s face and scanned the room again anyway. you weren’t there. and suddenly, the night felt off. quieter, less entertaining. he hated that most of all.

and once he noticed it, he couldn’t stop noticing it. every room he entered, his eyes searched for you automatically. every conversation felt slightly duller when you weren’t interrupting him halfway through it. every joke landed flatter when it wasn’t making you roll your eyes.

it got worse after that. at the gym, he caught himself thinking about the way you looked at him whenever you argued, so... unimpressed. like you enjoyed challenging him just as much as he enjoyed provoking you.

this was the first time he felt the pressing need to jerk off. to the thought of you.

he rushed home from the gym, cock already half-hard in his pants. had been for the past hour. even an ice-cold shower did nothing.

he dropped his gym back to the floor, making his way to his room immediately, dropping onto his bed. he ran his hands over his face, grabbing his hair.

"fuck you." he said into the empty room before grabbing his hard on through his shorts, squeezing it.

he didn't want to do it, jerking off to you. his pride, his ego, screamed at him to stop. to not do this with you on his mind. he grabbed his phone, unlocking it with one hand while his other slipped into his pants.

porn should do it. watching any other chick, hearing her moans instead of your fucking laugh in his mind. porn used to be his remedy when his mind wouldn't shut up about you. but right now it did nothing. he only saw you. only heard you.

he groaned in frustration, closing the tab on his phone, forcing his hand to stop working his cock. it twitched desperately in his fist, demanding more.

he wanted to text you. to tell you to stop invading his thoughts. tell you how much he hated you. for being so fucking mouthy. for making it impossible for him to jerk off properly. to demand you to do something about it. but he knew you'd only mock him for it.

his thumb moved on its own as it opened his photo gallery. he didn't notice what he was searching for until he found pictures of the last time you hung out with the group.

he loved the shirt you were wearing back then. loved how it made your tits look. fuck. suddenly he was thinking about your tits, wondering what they'd feel like in his hands. he imagined you arching your back, leaning into the touch as he grabbed them, squeezed them, pinched your nipples until you were whimpering.

his hand started moving on his cock again without him realising. his mind was too far gone. he thought about swirling his tongue around your nipples, sucking on them, wondering what your moans would sound like.

but he didn't only want to suck your nipples. he wanted to suck the soft flesh surrounding them. sucking, biting until it left a mark. right on your precious tit. he'd cover you in them, leaving marks all over you. fuck, you'd look so beautiful when he was done with you.

he noticed his fist jerking his cock only when he groaned involuntarily, his eyes fixated on the screen, on the picture of you. he wanted you. needed you. so bad it made his balls tighten.

he felt his orgasm approaching. fuck no, he couldn't cum to the thought of you. no matter how many times he thought of you while jerking off, he always managed to distract himself enough, think of anything but you when he found his release.

but right now he couldn't stop. couldn't stop imagining leaving his marks on you. he wanted to spank you until your butt cheeks were all red and covered in his handprints. finally making you realise who was in fucking charge.

the thought of you surrendering to him, to having his way with you, finally made him come undone. he gave his cock a few more strokes, tearing his gaze away from his phone, head thrown back against the pillow. and he blew his fucking load to the thought of you, whispering your name into the dark room.

after that, chan started gravitating towards you unconsciously. if you were in the kitchen, suddenly he needed a drink. if you were outside, he somehow ended up outside too. if you sat on the couch, he’d lean against the wall closest to you without even realising it. and then there was the hugging thing.

god, he hated the hugging thing. you hugged everyone. felix. the other members. friends arriving. friends leaving. everyone except him.

the first time he noticed it, irritation flared so fast it startled him. the second time, it became impossible not to watch.

you’d grin at somebody, arms wrapping around them casually while chan stood nearby pretending not to care. pretending not to notice. pretending he didn’t immediately wonder what it would feel like if you touched him like that. if your tits pressed against him. your scent surrounding him.

it got even worse when someone else made you laugh. especially men.

one night, seungmin had you nearly doubled over at the kitchen counter, laughing so hard you grabbed his arm for balance.

chan felt something ugly twist in his chest. before he even realised what he was doing, he crossed the room. “what’s so funny?” he asked flatly.

your laughter faded slightly as you looked up at him.“nothing you’d enjoy.”

“try me.”

"you don’t have a sense of humor.”

seungmin laughed awkwardly before quickly excusing himself the second chan looked at him.

coward.

you narrowed your eyes immediately. “did you just scare him off?”

“if he got scared that easily, that’s his problem.”

“you’re unbelievable.”

“then stop talking to me.” he said quietly, stepping closer.

the words settled heavily between you. your expression flickered for half a second. and christ, that was another problem entirely.

because lately, every time you looked at him, he forgot for a moment that this was supposed to be hatred at all.

a few days later, a heavy summer storm hit the city. and it had gotten bad fast.

rain hammered against the streets hard enough to blur the city lights, thunder rumbling low and heavy overhead while you hurried towards the studio building with your jacket pulled uselessly over your head. you and felix had made plans to go out for dinner after the studio tonight.

by the time security let you upstairs after recognising you as “one of felix’s people,” you were completely soaked. your shoes squeaked against the floor as you pushed open the studio door with an exhausted sigh already forming, only for it to die immediately when you saw who was inside.

chan sat alone in the swivel chair in front of the mixing desk, one arm resting against the armrest while music played quietly through the speakers.

of course. you sighed dramatically. “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

he glanced over his shoulder lazily. “nice to see you too.”

“where’s felix?”

“not here, obviously.”

you rolled your eyes, already pulling your phone out.“helpful as always.”

“i try.” but when chan turned fully in the chair, whatever sarcastic response he’d been about to make stopped short.

his eyes dragged over you slowly. rainwater clung to your clothes, your shirt damp enough to stick to your skin, droplets still sliding down your neck and disappearing beneath the fabric. his dick twitched. for once, chan looked genuinely speechless.

your stomach flipped annoyingly at the expression on his face. “take a picture,” you muttered.

his jaw tightened immediately, like he’d just been caught doing something illegal. before he could answer, your phone buzzed.

felix: « storm’s too bad. roads are fucked. can’t make it tonight sorry 😭»

you stared at the message in disbelief. “you’re joking.”

“what?”

“felix bailed.”

chan snorted softly. “smartest thing he’s done all week.”

and then the power cut out. the room dropped into darkness instantly. you jumped hard enough to knock your knee against the couch beside you. “shit—”

a laugh echoed through the dark. “you scared of a little darkness?”

“absolutely not.”

“you literally jumped just now.”

a flashlight flicked on a second later, illuminating the room dimly from below as chan leaned back in his chair, looking entirely too entertained by your suffering. the lighting made him look unfairly attractive. which only irritated you further.

“what, no candles around?” you asked dryly. “could make this whole thing a little cosier.”

his brows lifted. “this is a fucking studio.”

“and?”

“not exactly a place that calls for romance.”

you snorted. “pity. you probably bang a lot of chicks here considering you’re basically married to the studio. could’ve at least provided them with ambiance.”

chan barked out a laugh at that. an actual laugh. "trust me,” he said, eyes glinting in the flashlight glow, “i don’t need romance for that.”

“oh, i’m sure your personality alone does all the heavy lifting.”

“you saying i’m charming?”

“i’m saying you’re bossy. probably sucking up to people if you want something.”

he shook his head slowly, still staring at you in that intense way that always made your heartbeat feel uneven.

outside, thunder cracked loudly enough to rattle the windows. you crossed your arms instinctively, suppressing a shiver.

unfortunately, chan noticed immediately. his eyes narrowed slightly as another tremor ran through you. “you’re freezing.”

“i’m fine.”

“you’re shaking.”

“wow,” you deadpanned, “your observational skills are incredible.”

he rolled his eyes before reaching behind him blindly, grabbing a black sweater from the couch and tossing it towards you.

it hit your chest. you looked down at it suspiciously. then back at him. “…you own sweaters? wow. didn't expect that with you always running around in your stupid tank tops." you loved the stupid tank tops.

“hilarious.”

you held the sweater between two fingers. “this thing probably reeks of ego.”

“put the fucking hoodie on.”

you snorted softly, still not moving. “i think i’d rather suffer.”

“christ,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “stop being so fucking stubborn.”

“make me.” the words slipped out too naturally. too easily. and the second they did, the room changed.

chan went still. the flashlight from his phone cast shadows across his face as his eyes locked onto yours with dangerous intensity.

your pulse skipped. his gaze dropped briefly to your mouth before lifting again. slowly. oh, he knew exactly how to make you less stubborn.

“careful,” he said quietly. your breath caught despite yourself.

but instead of backing down, you tilted your head slightly. “or what?”

his eyes darkened slightly at that. the storm outside seemed louder suddenly, rain hammering against the windows while the studio sat in near darkness around you.

chan leaned back slowly in the chair, one hand still holding his phone loosely against his thigh. “you really don’t know when to stop talking.”

you clutched the sweater against your chest. “you say that like you aren’t the one constantly starting arguments with me.”

“because you make it easy.”

“or maybe you’re obsessed with hearing yourself speak.”

he laughed quietly under his breath. “see?” he murmured. “there it is.”

“what?”

“that mouth.”

heat crept annoyingly up your neck. you tried to ignore it. “you mean the one that hurts your feelings every other day?” you said sweetly.

“please.” his gaze dragged over you again, slow enough to make your stomach tighten. “if anything, i think you enjoy getting my attention.”

you scoffed immediately. “you’re unbelievable.”

“you came here soaked out of your mind during a storm.”

“to see felix.”

“sure.”

“god, your ego is exhausting.”

“and yet you ended up alone with me.”

the words landed heavier than they should have. you hated that your heartbeat reacted instantly. and chan noticed, your flushed face making him way more aroused than it should.

his eyes narrowed slightly, like he was studying every tiny shift in your expression.

“you know what your problem is?” you said, mostly to regain control of the conversation.

“enlighten me.”

“you think everybody wants you.”

one corner of his mouth pulled upward. “you saying you don’t?”

your breath caught for half a second. just enough. his expression changed immediately the moment he noticed. to satisfaction? or interest? something far more dangerous underneath both.

“wow,” he said softly. “that almost sounded convincing.” you glared at him. “you’re insufferable.”

“and you’re nervous.”

“i’m cold.”

“right.” his voice dipped lower on the word. you hated the way it affected you. hated the way the flashlight glow caught against his jaw, the way his eyes stayed fixed on you like he was trying to peel apart every reaction you had.

outside, thunder cracked again. you instinctively stepped closer to him. not close enough to touch. but close enough for him to notice.

a mistake. because chan's gaze dropped briefly to your bare legs before lifting back to your face.

“put the fucking sweater on,” he said quietly this time. “why? worried about me?”

his eyes held yours. “more than i should be.”

the room went painfully still after that. your pulse stumbled hard enough to make you angry.

you ended up leaving the studio an hour later once the rain calmed enough to be manageable again. not before chan practically shoved the sweater at you a second time after catching you trying to hand it back. “put it the fuck on,” he said flatly.

“wow. so caring.”

“don’t flatter yourself.”

you rolled your eyes, but you still wore it out into the storm. and annoyingly enough, by the time you got home, you realised it smelled exactly like him.

cedar wood and clean laundry. you hated that.

hated it even more when you caught yourself pulling the sleeves over your hands and burying your face into the fabric for half a second while kicking your shoes off near the door.

“oh, this is bad,” you muttered to yourself immediately. because now your apartment smelled faintly like chan too.

meanwhile, back at the studio, chan sat alone in the chair staring at his phone like it had personally offended him. the power had returned twenty minutes ago. music played softly through the speakers again. but he hadn’t gotten any work done since you left.

his mind kept replaying the way you looked wearing his sweater. sleeves hanging past your hands.

your hair still slightly damp from the rain.

fuck.

he scrubbed a hand over his face aggressively. this was getting ridiculous. you were annoying. stubborn. mouthy. constantly arguing with him.

he did not fucking care whether you got home safe. so why was he still staring at your contact like a man possessed? his thumb hovered over the keyboard. stopped. started again. stopped.

don’t text her. seriously. don’t. you’d never let him live it down.

he tossed the phone onto the desk. picked it back up thirty seconds later. “for fuck’s sake,” he muttered.

before he could overthink it again, his fingers moved.

chan: « got home okay? »

he stared at the message the second it sent, immediate regret settling in. what the hell was wrong with him? his phone buzzed less than a minute later. and despite himself, his heart kicked hard against his ribs.

« no actually. died halfway there. »

his mouth twitched instantly. god. there it was again. that stupid rush every time you answered him.

« tragic. hope my hoodie survived though. »

you snorted softly to yourself while curling further into your couch.

« barely. still reeks of your fucking ego. »

he leaned back in the chair, smiling before he could stop himself, like an idiot.

« you still wearing it? »

your eyes narrowed at the message.

« why? you miss it? »

three dots appeared almost immediately. disappeared. appeared again. you stared at your screen way too intently.

« maybe i just don’t trust you with my clothes. »

heat crept into your face annoyingly fast.

« relax. i’m not trying to steal your precious hoodie. »

« already did. »

your stomach flipped. you hated how much you liked this version of him. because somehow, over text, the banter felt even more entertaining. like all his attention narrowed directly onto you. you bit your lip before typing back.

« you this annoying with everyone or am i special? »

this time, his reply took longer. far longer. chan stared at the message for a while, jaw tightening slightly because the answer came too easily.

you’re the only person who talks back.

you’re the only one i think about this much.

you’re the only one who gets under my skin.

instead, he typed:

« don’t let it get to your head. »

a couple days later, you found yourself back at the studio again. mostly because felix had begged you to bring him lunch after claiming he was “seconds away from starving to death.” dramatic.

you sat cross-legged on the couch while felix inhaled noodles beside you, rambling about some artist they'd been working with while music played quietly through the speakers.

you were halfway through making fun of him for nearly setting the break room microwave on fire earlier when the studio door opened.

and immediately, your attention shifted. chan walked in wearing all black, headphones hanging around his neck, one hand pushing through his hair tiredly before his eyes landed on you.

his expression barely changed. but his heartbeat did. fast enough to irritate him instantly. because there you were again, sitting comfortably in his space like you belonged there now. laughing, talking, wearing that exact expression that always made him want to argue with you just to keep your attention on him longer.

“look who decided to show up,” you said casually.

“look who keeps invading my studio.”

felix looked between the two of you with immediate interest.

chan dropped into the chair across from you before his eyes narrowed slightly. “did you bring my hoodie?” you blinked innocently. “no.” his brows lifted. “no?”

“that’s what i said.”

“you keeping it now?”

you snorted softly. “maybe i like it.”

his gaze flickered over you slowly. "should i be worried?”

“depends,” you said lightly. “you emotionally attached to it?”

“not usually.”

felix looked absolutely delighted. “jesus christ,” he whispered to himself.

you ignored him. mostly because chan was still staring at you with that infuriatingly focused expression that made you feel overly aware of yourself.

“i can go get it right now if you’re gonna be dramatic about it,” you said.

the smart response would’ve been no. he knew that. he should’ve said: don’t bother. it’s just a hoodie. bring it whenever.

instead, his mouth betrayed him. “go ahead.”

you stared at him for a second before laughing in disbelief. “you are such a fucking pain in the ass.”

“you took my hoodie.”

“you told me to wear it!"

“didn’t say permanently.”

you narrowed your eyes at him while felix openly watched the exchange like live entertainment. “see?” you muttered. “this is exactly what i mean. you always need things your way.”

“and you always pretend you don’t like giving me a hard time.”

“i could think of a million things i'd rather do.”

“sure.” god, that smug look on his face made you want to throw something at him.

instead, you leaned back against the couch dramatically. “well, too bad. i’m not going home right now just because you snapped your fingers.”

his jaw twitched slightly. “fine,” he said after a second. “i’ll pick it up tonight after the studio.”

your heart stumbled instantly, hard enough to genuinely piss you off. because suddenly all you could think about was chan standing inside your apartment. wearing that look, talking to you in that low voice, being alone with you again.

you forced yourself to stay casual. “fine.” but the word came out thinner than you intended.

his eyes stayed on you for one extra second too long before the corner of his mouth tilted upward slightly, satisfied. like he’d already figured out exactly what that idea did to you too.

a little after eight, your phone buzzed. you stared at the notification longer than necessary.

« address. »

your thumbs hovered over the keyboard while your heartbeat steadily picked up speed. this was a bad idea. letting chan into your apartment, alone, at night, after whatever the hell had been happening between you lately, felt objectively stupid.

his hoodie sat freshly washed and perfectly folded on your desk like evidence of a problem you refused to acknowledge. you should’ve just brought it to the studio earlier.

after another minute of overthinking, you sent him your address anyway. the three dots appeared almost immediately.

« be there in thirty. »

your stomach flipped. “this is so fucking stupid,” you muttered to yourself. and yet you still fixed your hair before he arrived. fucking pathetic.

exactly thirty minutes later, there was a knock at your door. of course he was punctual. you had no idea why the smallest thing about him annoyed you this much.

you grabbed the hoodie quickly before opening the door just enough to shove it towards him immediately. “here. now leave.”

chan looked down at the folded sweater in your hands before slowly lifting his eyes back to your face. “cute welcome.”

“you came for the hoodie. here it is."

instead of taking it right away, he leaned one arm against the doorframe casually. his gaze stayed fixed on you while he finally took the sweater from your hands. and then he noticed it. the scent. your detergent.

his fingers tightened slightly around the fabric. fuck. he hated how much he liked it. hated the immediate thought that crossed his mind.

you narrowed your eyes. “why are you looking at it like that?”

“nothing.”

“you’re literally glaring at your own hoodie.”

“i’m thinking.”

“dangerous hobby for someone like you.”

his mouth twitched. there it was again. that tiny almost-smile that only ever seemed to appear around you. “you washed it.”

“obviously.”

“didn’t think you had it in you.”

you scoffed immediately. “god, you’re annoying.”

“you say that every time you see me.”

“because it remains true every time i see you.”

he laughed quietly under his breath before his eyes drifted past you briefly into your apartment. “you gonna make me stand out here all night?”

“that was actually the plan.”

“rude.”

“you'll survive.” but despite the sarcasm, you stepped aside anyway.

the second chan walked past you, the atmosphere shifted. you shut the door quickly behind him before you could overthink the fact that you were now alone with him again.

his eyes landed on you again almost immediately. “you nervous?” he asked suddenly. you blinked. “what?”

“you keep fidgeting.” you immediately stopped moving out of spite. “you’re imagining things.”

“am i?”

“yes.”

he hummed softly, unconvinced. “interesting.”

“what is?”

“you only get defensive when i’m right.”

“and you only talk this much when you want attention.” his brows lifted slightly. "you think i want your attention?”

you laughed once in disbelief. “please. you practically orbit around me at this point.”

that hit harder than intended. you could tell immediately by the way his expression shifted.

chan stepped closer slowly, enough to make your pulse spike.

“careful,” he said quietly. “you’re sounding very confident for someone whose heart is racing right now.”

your breath caught. “you’re insufferable.”

“you already said that.”

“because you keep proving it.”

“then tell me why,” he murmured, eyes dropping briefly to your mouth, “you still let me in?"

the tension snapped tighter instantly.

“don’t flatter yourself,” you said, though your voice came out weaker than intended. “you came here for a hoodie.”

“right.” the way he said it made heat spread low in your stomach. because suddenly it very much did not feel like this was about the hoodie anymore.

the room felt unbearably small now. every sarcastic comment, every lingering glance, every argument between you two over the past weeks suddenly sat heavy in the air between you.

chan stayed close. close enough that you could see the tension in his jaw every time you opened your mouth again. which, naturally, only made you want to push him further.

“you know,” you said lightly, even though your pulse was completely betraying you now, “for someone who supposedly can’t stand me, you spend an awful lot of time in my personal space.”

his eyes narrowed. “you think this is me trying to be close to you?”

“i think you’re obsessed with annoying me.”

a humourless laugh left him. “trust me,” he murmured, “if i wanted to annoy you, you’d know.”

your stomach tightened hard at the tone of his voice. but you still crossed your arms stubbornly. “wow. terrifying.”

chan couldn't help but stare at your arms crossed over your tits. those goddamn tits. “you should be scared.”

“of what?”

his gaze locked onto yours completely. “of how much i’m trying not to lose my patience with you right now.”

the words hit like a physical thing, your breath catching slightly. his expression darkened. “there it is,” he said quietly. you swallowed once. “there’s what?”

“that look.”

“what look?”

“the one you get when you stop pretending you hate this.”

heat flooded your face instantly. “you’re delusional.”

“am i?” he stepped even closer. your back nearly brushed the edge of the counter behind you now. every instinct screamed at you to move. you didn’t. because despite the tension winding painfully tight in your chest, despite how impossible he was, you wanted him close.

“you talk too much,” chan muttered suddenly, eyes fixed on your mouth now instead of your eyes.

you scoffed softly, though it came out shakier than intended. “yet you’re always listening.”

“that’s the problem.” your heartbeat stumbled at his low voice. “do you have any idea,” he said slowly, “how fucking badly i want to shut that smart mouth of yours?”

silence crashed between you. your breath came shallow now. because suddenly all the tension between you two finally had a name. and judging by the way chan looked at you, he’d stopped trying to deny it entirely.

you should’ve stepped away. should’ve said something sarcastic. something sharp. something safe.

instead, your eyes flicked briefly to his lips before you whispered, far too softly: “what’s keeping you then?”

that was it. whatever restraint chan had left snapped instantly. his hand caught your jaw almost desperately before he crashed his mouth against yours. like he’d been holding himself back for weeks and finally lost the fight.

the kiss was all heat and frustration and ruined patience. you kissed him back immediately, fingers gripping the front of his shirt as his other hand braced against the counter beside you.

and god, chan kissed exactly how he argued: intense and demanding. like he tried to be in control even in the heat of the moment.

a quiet sound caught in his throat when you pulled him closer, like he couldn’t quite believe this was finally happening either.

his forehead pressed briefly against yours when he pulled back just enough to breathe, both of you visibly affected now. and then the idiot actually muttered: “still think i’m annoying?”

you let out a breathless laugh despite yourself. “the most annoying."

his mouth curved against yours again. “yeah,” he murmured, already kissing you again, “but you kiss me anyway?"

you snorted against his lips. "just trying to see whether your ego is justified."

a dark chuckle escaped chan's throat, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him, his erection pressing against your lower belly.

"think you can impress me with a hard cock?" chan's hands twitched at that. he wanted to smack that smug expression of your face so badly. wanted to make you shut that goddamn mouth of yours.

instead, he inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring. "watch it." he said through gritted teeth, trying to hold onto his last bit of self control.

"or what?" you replied confidently, looking up at him, smiling way too sweetly. chan's breaths came out heavier, his hips grinding against you instinctively.

"or i will show you exactly what this cock is capable of doing to you. and spoiler alert, you're not gonna like it."

you snorted at that. actually snorted, right in his face. "yeah? think you're gonna break me, channie?" the soft nickname on your lips were his complete undoing. his cock twitched, you felt it through the fabric. he placed his hands on the counter on either side of you, pulling back but caging you in. he could no longer be this close to you, he had to get his cock away from you. because he was about to snap.

"you have no idea what you're doing to me." he spoke, voice rough. a smug expression crossed your face, you leaned forward, breath hot against his ear as you whispered, "what if i know exactly what i'm doing to you?"

his hand shot up, grabbing your hair so hard it hurt, tilting your head back. you couldn't help yourself but moan out, legs clenching together. chan smirked, grip tightening in your hair, "you fucking like that? being manhandled? where's your fucking smugness now?"

you stared at him, hating how your body betrayed you. "fuck you, chan." you muttered. but that only encouraged him. he knew he had you.

"that the only comeback you can think of?" he mocked, his other hand now grabbing your jaw, holding your head in place. he pressed his body against you again. "c'mon, put that smart mouth to work. i dare you."

but you remained silent, breaths coming out in puffs as you tried to calm your racing heart. "where did your attitude go, hm?" he asked, pushing his leg between yours. he pressed his thigh against your core, making your breath hitch, looking at you with mocking eyes.

"you asked me if i think i can break you? yes, i can. tell me to stop and i will leave right through that door. but if you say yes to this, i will make sure you forget your own fucking name."

he waited. patiently. for any answer. for a simple yes or no. you blinked up at him, mind racing, until you finally nodded your head confidently. "is that a yes?" he asked, tone still mocking. "use your fucking words." his tone was commanding as ever. but he needed to hear it, needed your verbal consent.

"yes—" you choked out. and after that, all hell broke loose.

a low sound escaped chan's throat, his grip on your hair tightening, yanking your away from the counter and towards the couch. it hurt, the way he was handling you. he pushed you towards the sofa, finally letting go of your hair. "undress." he said, standing tall in front of you, arms crossed as he watched you. "i'm not gonna ask again."

your fingers trembled slightly as you started undressing yourself, eyes never leaving his. "for fuck's sake." chan muttered, clearly impatient. he smacked your hands away, basically ripping your clothes away. his hands roamed over your body, feeling your warm skin against his fingertips. you felt better than he could have ever imagined. he groaned, his mouth suddenly back on yours. the kiss was laced with desperation as his hands grabbed your tits, squeezing them through your bra before taking it off with skilled fingers. "fucking perfect." he muttered more to himself than you.

he pinched your nipples hard, needing to know how you react to it. you hissed, biting your lip, gaining a smirk from chan.

he pushed you down on the couch, standing tall in front of you. his thumb traced over your lower lip. "open." he grabbed your hair, tilting your head back. "tongue out." your jaw clenched slightly, not wanting to obey him, wanting to challenge him. but when his grip in your hair tightened painfully, you opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out. chan leaned forward, spitting into your mouth before sliding two fingers along your tongue. he moved them further into your mouth, his cock twitching in his pants.

"i'm gonna show you how to put that smart mouth of yours to good use, yeah?" he muttered as he started sliding his fingers in and out of you. you wrapped your lips around them, looking up at him. he pulled your hair harder, tilting your head further, retrieving his fingers from between your lips and smacking your cheek hard. "fucking answer when i'm talking to you."

your breath caught in your throat, eyes watering the slightest bit. "well right now, you're all big words and no fucking action." your snappy response earned you another slap against your cheek, coating it with your saliva that was still on his fingers.

"you fucking bitch." chan just shook his head, unable to believe that you still had the audacity to talk back. he yanked your hair. hard. moving you to lie on your back, head on the armrest of the couch. he pulled you further until your head was hanging over the edge.

he was already working on his pants, pulling them down, freeing his cock, right over your face. he gave it a few strokes, watching you. he didn't waste another second, tapping it against your lips. you smelled him, the saltiness of his precum coating his tip.

he didn't push in, not yet. he smeared his precum over your lips. "tap my thigh three times in a row if it gets too much. understand?" he asked, growing more impatient by the minute. you nodded. fucking nodded. "words, sweetheart." he said through gritted teeth.

"i understand." you said.

"good girl."

"don't fucking call me that. i'm not your good girl."

chan only grinned at that. "you'd rather i keep insulting you?"

"i'd rather you finally put that cock to use." you snapped back. he smacked your tit, making you flinch. "yeah, i fucking should. shut that goddamn mouth of yours for once."

and with that, he pushed his cock past your lips, his hips snapping involuntarily, shoving his length down your throat. "fuck—" he cursed loudly, watching your throat, how it took shape of his length. "holy—"

you immediately gagged around him, not having expected him to just shove his entire length in with no further warning.

and he fucking kept it there, making you choke, cutting off your air supply. you tapped his thigh three times, and he immediately pulled back, realising that he got caught in the moment. you immediately took a deep breath, coughing.

"you want to be treated like a fucking whore, then fucking take it like one."

"you're a fucking asshole, bang chan, you know that?"

a dark chuckle erupted from somewhere deep inside him. "yet you still take my fucking cock like you're my own personal slut." and before you could say anything, he rammed his cock back into your mouth, deep down your throat.

his hips moved in quick little thrusts, fucking your mouth till you couldn't breathe, pulling back to let you get some oxygen before repeating his movements. his hand reached for your throat, squeezing it, feeling the pressure of his own hand around his cock buried deep down.

you choked. hard. your body started jolting until he finally pulled out, a long strip of saliva still connecting your mouth to his cock.

"you're trying to fucking choke me to death?" your voice sounded hoarse, your throat so raw it hurt to talk. chan just grinned down at you, his fingers smearing your own saliva all over your pretty lips. you caught his finger, biting it.

"fuck! you bitch!" chan called in surprise, withdrawing his hand, connecting it to your cheek with a hard smack. and of all possible things you could have done, you fucking moaned at his action. "you're un-fucking-believable." chan muttered through gritted teeth.

"on your hands and knees." he ordered, voice way too calm for the storm inside him. you snorted. "don't fucking boss me around like that."

chan was losing his patience. he grabbed you, handled your body with a strength that left you breathless as he flipped you over on your stomach. "don't make me tie you the fuck up."

you snorted again. fuck, it drove him wild. he wanted to punish you for fucking breathing. "be my guest. i don't own any ropes."

a slow, wicked grin spread on chan's face. "oh, trust me. i can get very creative." and with that, his hands left you and you heard him wander off. you turned your head to the side, watching him waltz around your apartment like he fucking owned the place.

"what the fuck are you doing?" you snapped, already shuffling to get up.

"if you dare move even a fucking inch, i'm gonna spank your ass till it's burning red." your breath hitched at his words. but that still didn't stop you from rising to your feet and following him. who did he even think he was?

you found him in your bedroom, picking up a belt that was stored neatly in one of your drawers. he looked ridiculous. going through your stuff, half naked, his stupid cock still glistening with your saliva.

you stood there, butt naked, crossing your arms over your chest. "stop fucking going through my stuff."

"why? hiding something you don't want me to find?"

you snorted, "no. just don't like fucking assholes going through my things."

he walked past your bed, opening the drawer of your nightstand. "oh my god! you have no fucking respect!"

you knew what he would find. and you couldn't care less. he held up your pink vibrator a few seconds later, grinning like he found a precious treasure. "cute." he muttered.

"oh wow, blame a girl for owning a goddamn vibrator."

chan turned around, standing in front of you, vibrator in one hand, belt in the other. "you get yourself off with this thing?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"yes." you replied confidently but couldn't suppress the soft flush spreading from your neck to your face. chan grin only widened. his eyes travelled past you, landing on a light scarf hanging over the back of your desk chair. "perfect." he muttered, walking past you to grab it. "remember how i told you not to fucking move?"

you rolled your eyes, "remember how i told you not to boss me around?"

chan came up behind you. you could feel the heat radiating from his body. he threw the vibrator and the scarf on the bed. your eyes followed the items. "you know, that scarf is actually my favourite, if you ruin it—"

"don't care." he cut you off, grabbing your wrists, yanking them behind your back harshly. he tied the belt around them, making you gasp.

"and the only thing i plan on ruining," he moved his hands up your arms, fingertips ghosting over the skin, giving you goosebumps. "is you."

his lips connected to your shoulders, leaving a few kisses till he reached your neck. his arms snaked around you from behind, pulling you flush against him, his cock hard against your butt. he bit your neck hard, making you hiss, before sucking the flesh, making sure to leave a fucking mark.

he pulled back slightly, watching the skin change colour, grinning in satisfaction, before repeating it a little further up. your ass ground against his cock, making him suck your skin harder.

"fuck, you like getting marked like a fucking whore?" he whispered against your skin, his hands squeezing your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples, making you moan. "chan—"

you moaning his name like that was his complete undoing. he needed more. needed more of you moaning his name, screaming it.

he grabbed the small vibrator from the bed, turning it on and guiding it over your hardened nipples. you pressed yourself harder against him, soft moans now constantly leaving your lips. he started grinding his hard cock against you, moving the vibrator down to your cunt, running it over your clit lazily. you arched your back, your hips starting to move against the toy. "chan, please—" you couldn't suppress the soft whimper, no idea where the sudden needy tone came from. but it made him lose his mind.

he threw you on your bed, yanking your ass up before you could even gather yourself, your hands still tied tightly behind your back.

he started wrapping your scarf around your thighs in figure 8s, tying them together. once he was done, he took a step back, admiring the view. you turned your head to the side, pressed against the mattress, ass in the air. you tried to get a glimpse of him. he stood there, swallowing hard, just... watching you.

"you're a fucking weirdo, bang chan."

his eyes didn't move away from your bare core, "shut up or i will gag you." he said as his eyes finally met yours. he moved closer to the bed, leaning forward, brushing a few loose strands of hair out of your face. "if anything gets too much, you use the word 'red' and i will stop immediately, okay?" you blinked at him a few times. the fact that he still ...cared, despite the hatred, despite you riling him up constantly, made something warm settle in your chest. "okay."

his hand started caressing your butt cheeks, way too softly. the serious expression on his face was replaced by a smirk. and then he smacked you. hard. you couldn't move, hands tied together, thighs tied together. all you could do was flinch.

"you should learn to fucking listen. if i tell you not to move, you don't fucking move." another smack. you opened your mouth, wanting to protest. he cut you off with another deliberate slap. "don't you fucking dare talking back right now." he said, making you grin. fucking grin.

"god—" he shook his head, his next smack making you wince from the sting. and then his finger just entered you with no fucking warning. you moaned out loud in surprise, moving back against his touch.

chan let out a dark chuckle. "you're so fucking desperate, it's pathetic." he said, his finger moving in and out of you with ease. "so fucking wet."

his free hand slapped your ass again, so hard it left a handprint. he added a second finger, curling them inside you, making you moan involuntarily. "fuck, chan—"

his cock twitched at you moaning his name again. fuck, that did things to him. "again." he muttered, teeth clenched, trying to keep any bit of self-control. "moan my fucking name again." he pumped his fingers faster, curling them at just the right spot, his name leaving your lips in soft moans, driving him insane.

he dropped to his knees, pulling his fingers out of you and burying his face into your cunt. "fuck!" you cried out, body jolting forwards. he grabbed your hips harshly, holding you in place as he fed on you like a man starved.

"tastes so fucking good." he groaned against you, his tongue swirling around your clit a couple of times before licking up to your entrance, pushing inside you. he reached for the vibrator again, turning it on, bringing it to your clit, while his tongue moved in and out of your hole.

you ground your cunt against him, moaning shamelessly as you felt your orgasm build up. "chan—" you moaned and he knew. he wanted to deny you the orgasm, wanted to edge you, to make you feel as desperate as you always made him feel. but he couldn't. not when you were moaning so sweetly. not when your cunt was grinding against his face so desperately.

your legs started trembling and he threw the vibrator away. it scattered on the floor somewhere as chan grabbed your hips harder, fingers digging into you so hard, they'd leave bruises. he held you in place, burying his face deeper inside you.

"just fucking come on my face already." he murmured into you, big hands moving to your ass, squeezing the cheeks harshly.

you tried to hold back your orgasm, not wanting him to feel even the slightest amount of pride for making you come. and he noticed. noticed the way you tried to hold back.

"for fuck's sake!" he groaned, pushing two fingers back inside you, curling them right where you needed them, making you cry out.

"stop being so fucking stubborn." his fingers pumped into you relentlessly, hitting your g-spot again and again, making you see stars, head spinning. until you finally could no longer hold back. with one last flick of his tongue over your clit, you came undone. he guided you through your orgasm and you could feel his fucking grin against your cunt.

"that's it." he murmured, clearly satisfied with himself. "just shut the fuck up." you snapped. bad idea. he smacked your cunt so hard, it made you lose balance, collapsing onto the mattress. with your legs and hands still tied, you couldn't lift yourself up, legs still shaking from the intensity of your orgasm.

chan just chuckled darkly behind you, giving his cock a few pumps, watching you being completely at his mercy. he's been dreaming about this, fantasising about it. his eyes wander over your body, spotting every goddamn mark he left. bites, hickeys, fingerprints. he loved it. but he needed more.

he reached forward, grabbing your hair and yanking you back. his breath was hot against your ear, his cock pressing against your ass. "i'm gonna fuck you now, yeah? fill that pretty little cunt. mark you properly."

he gave you a few seconds to protest, but you didn't. you were still catching your breath, body still trembling. he let go of your hair, starting to undress himself. you didn't want to look. you knew he was handsome as fuck, didn't need a proof of that. but you couldn't help turning your head, watching him over your shoulder. fuck.

"stop staring." he said, not even looking up as he neatly placed his clothes over the chair at your desk. your eyes traced his toned body, all the way to his perfect ass. goddamnit.

"don't fucking flatter yourself." you snorted, but your words lacked any bite. chan ignored it, standing behind you, cock fucking throbbing and all. "ass up." he ordered. you struggled against the restraints, trying to move back onto your knees.

"fucking pathetic." chan murmured as he gripped your hips and pulled you up. his hands sprawled over your butt cheeks, squeezing them. you hissed. they still hurt from earlier.

chan just watched you for a while, with you getting impatient. "stop staring." you repeated the words he just threw at you, grinning to yourself. his hands flinched against your butt cheeks, ready to smack the shit out of you, but he took a deep breath instead.

he spit down on his cock, using one hand to spread his saliva over it, before pushing inside you with no further warning. "fuck!" you cried out, jolting forwards. "godfuckingdamnit chan!"

you were so fucking wet, he just slid right in, all the way. he gritted his teeth, trying not to think too much about how fucking good you actually feel. trying not to think about how he actually, finally, has his cock buried inside your fucking cunt. trying not to think about— fuck. his cock twitched inside you, realising how your walls are clamping down on him.

it pissed him off. how good you felt. how warm you were. how fucking wet. how much he wanted you, even though he finally had you.

he grabbed your hair, wrapping it around his hand, yanking you back forcefully, his cock buried to the hilt. he yanked until you were pressed against his chest. "i'm not gonna last long if you keep clenching your fucking walls around me."

your soft moans turned into a snort. "who's pathetic now? you haven't even fucked me properly, channie."

he lost it at the sweet nickname on your lips. his free hand smacked your ass. hard. grabbing your hips. the grip in your hair tightened as he started moving. his hips snapping brutally, each thrust into your sensitive cunt making you whimper.

"you drive me fucking insane." he murmured against your neck before biting down hard, making you cry out in surprise. he groaned against your skin, keeping a steady rhythm. you cried out his name again, and again, making his head spin.

he let go of your hair, forcing you to fall onto the mattress, grabbing your hips, fucking deeper into you. his pace brutal and intense. until your legs could no longer hold you up. they shook so violently, you collapsed onto the mattress.

but he didn't stop. he adjusted to the changed angle within seconds, pushing your hips further down, hips slamming against you, fucking you into the mattress. he moved one hand between your shoulder blades, the other staying on your hip, almost his entire weight holding you down.

"chan—" everything was overwhelming and the familiar knot started tightening in your stomach. his cock rubbed against that sweet spot deep inside you, making your walls clench violently around him as you came hard.

chan cursed under his breath, your orgasm triggering his own. his thrusts become sloppy, desperate to fill your cunt with his load. desperate to fucking breed you.

with a guttural groan, he stilled deep inside you. his arms shook slightly as he emptied himself into you. you felt it, his thick load warm inside you. "fuck, that's it." he murmured almost inaudible, his hips doing small micro thrusts.

he removed his hands from you, placing them on the mattress beside you. but he didn't pull out. not yet. he reached for the belt around your hands, undoing it, freeing you.

you were both breathless, panting heavily. chan's hand reached for your face, swiping some loose strands away. "you okay?"

your body was sore. you were hyper aware of every mark he left on you, your skin burning. but you nodded. the intensity of both your orgasms was enough to make up for the soreness.

he pulled out slowly, sitting back, watching you. your legs were still tied together, looking absolutely perfect to him.

when his cum started dripping out of you, his eyes widened, addicted to the view. "fuck," he groaned, fingers catching the thick liquid, smearing it over your cunt. when more started dripping out, he groaned.

he collected every drop, pushing two fingers inside you. "chan?!" you called out in surprise, but his name died on your lips, turning into a moan. his mind was fucking gone, as he started fucking his cum right back into you with his fingers.

"fucking appreciate the load i gave you." he said, voice dark. he smacked your ass, fingers pumping in and out of you, pushing his cum back inside.

"don't lose a single fucking drop or i'll have to fill you up again."

and right then, fucking his seed back into your cunt, having you whimper at his touch, moan his name with a broken voice, one thing became perfectly clear to him. that he didn't want this to be a one time thing. already too obsessed with the way your body reacts to his.

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his hand finds your shoulder, its warmth bleeding through the thin cotton of your sleep shirt. his fingers gently curl around the curve of your arm. they move with a deliberate, soothing motion, the kind of thing he does when a member is having a panic attack or breaks down after an intense performance. but his hand doesn't move away this time. it lingers, thumb stroking in a slow, deliberate path down your arm.

"i heard you calling out my name… thought you were having a nightmare."

the dream. your face burns, and you're grateful for the darkness shielding your expression from him. the way he'd positioned you, his hands firm on your body, not unlike now…

his hand slides from your shoulder to the side of your neck. his palm covers the column of your throat, not pressing, just resting there. you desperately try to control the frantic beating of your heart, and you know he can feel your pulse jumping against his skin.

"are you okay? i could hear you through the walls."

you shiver. your room doesn't share a wall with his. his is down the hall, past the bathroom, on the other side of the dorm.

"chan-ah…" you whisper, but he answers the question before you can ask it aloud.

"i was walking by to get some water. then i heard you."

it's a flimsy explanation. you both know it is. he ignores the nickname he begrudgingly allows you to use sometimes, despite you being a year younger than him, hand softly squeezing your throat instead. there's none of his usual teasing, just the heavy tension hanging in the silence between you.

"i've heard you before," he admits. his thumb brushes along your jaw and there's no doubt he feels the way your breath hitches in your throat. "other nights. you think these walls are thick enough? you think no one can hear you?"

embarrassment washes over you. you think back on the nights you touched yourself thinking about him, muffling your whimpers in your pillow as best as you could, sure no one could hear —

"chan, you should leave."

before it's too late, you want to add, but the words fizzle out before they can reach your lips. there's too much at stake… the fans, your career, the company, this family of eight men you've become a part of. you won't jeopardize that.

"i can't stop thinking about you." there's a rawness to his voice, as if someone is dragging the words out of him. "it's driving me fucking crazy. i asked ji to work on the new track because your voice gets stuck in my head all day, and all i can hear is the way you moan." his hand moves up, fingers tightening in your hair, firm enough to pull at your scalp. "countless times i've stood outside this door and walked away, trying to be the better man. but not tonight. i won't walk away now."

"chan —"

"shh." he shifts, rolling you onto your back and throwing a leg over yours, caging you in. "go back to sleep, then. you were saying my name so prettily. let me hear it again."

"it's not - we can't —", the words come out jumbled as his hands push under the hem of your shirt. the friction of his rough callouses against your skin make your core clench. "the members…"

"are asleep." his thumbs caress the underside of your breasts, hovering there. "it's three in the morning, no one's going to wake up. they won't hear you. unless you're too loud… which you might be. because you get loud when you think about me, don't you? no need to be shy now."

you think of him standing right outside your door, his ear pressed to the wood. listening to every desperate, needy sound you made as you touched yourself thinking of him.

the thought should horrify you. instead, a hot pulse of arousal throbs between your legs, and you hate yourself for it. your body is responding to this – to him — like an over-eager dog keen to please its owner.

chan squeezes, just once, relishing in the way you arch into his hands.

"there she is. i knew you'd feel like this. so soft."

he tugs up your shirt, bunching the fabric above your sternum. cool air washes over your bare skin, your breasts exposed to the dark room, and you instinctively try to cover yourself. chan catches your wrists and pins them above your head with one hand, holding them there against the pillow.

"don't hide from me." his gaze travels down your body, and even in the dim light you see his pupils are blown wide, swallowing the warm brown of his irises. "you have no idea how many times i've imagined you like this."

his free hand cups your breast, thumb dragging across your nipple. you bite your lip hard to keep from making a sound but a soft whimper manages to escape. chan smiles a small, crooked smile — nothing like the bright grin he shows on screen — and does it again, rolling your nipple between his thumb and finger until it stiffens.

"let me hear you." he pinches harder, switching to your other breast and giving it the same treatment, his voice taking on that same gentle tone that guides you through your parts in the studio. "just like that. you sound so sweet."

you turn your head to the side, unable to look at him. this is wrong. he's your leader, your co-worker, your friend, your family — and he's touching you, and you're letting him. you're not fighting hard enough. you're not fighting at all.

his mouth finds your neck and the wet heat of it shocks you. he grazes your skin, sucking and biting hard enough to leave a mark chaeyoun will have to cover up tomorrow while loudly complaining about your lack of self-control. but it doesn't matter, not when chan grinds down between your thighs and rolls his hips into yours.

"say my name again. say it like you do when you're touching yourself. when you're thinking about me fucking you."

he licks a stripe up your neck and a sob catches in your throat. his hand slides down your stomach, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your underwear. you feel how wet you are, how obvious your arousal is, and there's no hiding it from him anymore. his fingers drag through the slick mess between your legs and the noise he lets out is almost a laugh.

"so fucking wet." he circles your clit with two fingers, "all this from a little touching? or were you this wet just dreaming of me?"

your underwear is pulled down your thighs, your knees, off one leg and left dangling around the other ankle as he dips down and hoists your thighs over his shoulders. he wastes no time, tongue licking a fat stripe up your slit.

"chan," you gasp, and his grip on your hips tightens in response.

"again."

he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks.

"chan - hnng, ah, don't stop —"

"again."

you cry out when two of his fingers thrust inside you. he doesn't waste time being gentle, curling them to find the spot that has you chanting his name over and over again.

"that's it, baby," he coos, and you barely register the pet name between the feeling of his fingers fucking you open and his hot tongue lapping at your clit. you can already feel something building in your core, a coiling tension threatening to snap. it's too much, too soon. it shouldn't be this easy for him.

"just let go. i've got you. i'll always have you."

his words push you over the edge. the sudden wave of your orgasm overtakes you, thighs clamping around his head, and you bite down on your own arm to muffle your cries. chan works you through it with relentless fingers, sucking on your clit until you're shaking and overstimulated. your arousal drips down his hand, pooling beneath your hips. your legs twitch on the sheets but chan doesn't give you a chance to breathe. his fingers start moving again before you've come down, fucking into you with a wet squelch that makes you jerk in his grip. your whole body is trembling now, every nerve ending on fire, too sensitive and raw.

"no, 's too much, please, chan, i can't…"

"you can," he grunts, withdrawing his fingers only to push three back in, stretching you until the burn makes you sob. his thumb grinds against your swollen clit without mercy. "you owe me that much."

there's something desperate in his voice, cracking at the end of each phrase, and you realize he too has been burning up with need for months and months.

"do you know how many times i've jerked off thinking about you?" the words spill out faster now, as if the dam has broken and he can no longer contain the flood. "in the studio. in the shower. in the living room when the others had their own schedules. in my bed with my hand over my mouth so no one would hear me saying your fucking name —"

the wet, obscene sound of his fingers fucking you open fills the room, and your second orgasm builds just as sudden as the first one. you shake your head wildly, but your cunt is clenching around his fingers, sucking him in deeper.

"i used to steal your underwear." the confession comes out in a low growl, almost ashamed, but he doesn't stop. his fingers work you so expertly your vision starts bleeding white at the edges. "from the laundry. the ones you wore to practice… i'd hold them to my face and breathe you in and imagine this, you underneath me, imagine you crying on my cock the way you're crying now —"

you moan, cunt spasming around his fingers. a gush of wetness splashes against his palm, dripping down your thigh and thoroughly soaking the sheets beneath you. the orgasm is bordering on painful in its intensity and you can barely breathe, chan's gaze in the dim morning light almost too much to bear.

this time he lets you come down, slowly pulling his fingers from your swollen pussy and bringing them to his mouth. you watch in a haze how he sucks his fingers clean. his eyes fall shut and a shiver runs through his whole body. he licks between his fingers to lap up every drop, and when he opens his eyes again they're glassy and unfocused.

"not enough." he grimaces, snapping back into reality. "i need - i need more. i need to be inside you. i can't… i can't fucking think anymore —"

he shoves his sweats down and you hear the fabric hit the floor somewhere in the dark. you're unable to move, boneless and spent and still trembling. your aching cunt clenches around nothing.

then his cock brushes against your thigh and panic rises in your chest at the thought of him being inside of you. at the sudden understanding of this being real, and not some dream or figment of your imagination.

"wait —" you try to scoot backward on the mattress, but his hand grabs your hip and drags you back down. he wraps a hand around himself and strokes, and you hear the wet sound of it, feel him bump against your entrance. "chan, if we do this, we can't go back."

there's no need to elaborate. the weight of your words hangs heavy in the air between you, and chan lets out a desperate sigh.

"i know. and i don't fucking care. i spent months caring and it didn't get me anywhere. i'm gonna go mad if i don't get to feel you now."

he steadies himself and pushes, one long, brutal thrust that steals the air from your lungs. he doesn't give you time to accommodate the stretch of him, the way he fills you so completely radiating through your whole body. your hands fly up to grip his strong biceps, nails digging in hard enough to hurt, and you faintly register the sound of your own voice — a string of broken, desperate sounds you can't seem to stop from spilling out.

"oh fuck," his forehead drops to your shoulder and he breathes the words against your skin. "oh fuck, you feel perfect, baby - i knew it, i knew you'd feel like this —"

his hips pull back and snap forward again and again, and the force of it pushes you up the mattress. the way he moves is raw and desperate, as if he's trying to reach something so deep inside of you he has to drive himself further with every thrust.

"eight months," he grits the words out between strokes, each one punctuated by the wet slap of his hips against yours. "eight months of watching you walk around the dorm wearing nothing but a towel after every shower. eight months of you bending over in front of me during practice. eight months of you smiling at me like that, as if i'm not losing my fucking mind —"

his hands grab your thighs and push them wider, folding you nearly in half, changing the angle so he can reach impossibly deeper. the new position lets him grind against that sweet spot, his pubic bone pressed to your clit. you're not even trying to fight the familiar build of another orgasm this time, your body surrendering entirely to his.

"tell me you're mine," he pants, pressing his mouth against yours. his lips are soft, almost gentle despite his desperation. "promise me."

your body arches into him, cunt fluttering around his cock when he snakes a hand between your bodies and finds your clit again. your hands reach around his back, pulling him in closer.

"i'm yours, chan," you gasp into his mouth, not wanting to put an inch of space between the two of you.

he lets out a broken moan, cock throbbing and spilling deep inside of you. your nails drag a path down his back, deep enough to leave marks, but he holds you closer as your cunt milks him to the last drop.

you lay there sweaty and panting, the sudden quiet of your room no longer tense. you're sure he's fucked you so hard the bed left a dent in the wall, but you no longer find it in yourself to care about what the others might've heard.

chan kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your lips, anywhere he can reach without having to pull out just yet and you giggle, feeling him smile against your skin. he's still holding you when you drift off into slumber again, his strong chest pressed against your back, as if he's always been there.

"That necklace doesn't exactly match your usual aesthetic," he teased, tilting his head. "Hand it over."

You turned slowly to face him, a smirk curling on your lips beneath your own mask. The city lights painted both of you in shifting hues of blue and pink as you straightened up, rolling your shoulders with feline grace.

"And here I thought you'd finally learned to mind your own business, Spidey," you purred, voice smooth and teasing. "Didn't your mother ever teach you it's rude to crash a girl's private party?"

He chuckled, the sound low and warm even through the mask. "Only when the girl in question keeps stealing things that don't belong to her." He took one graceful step closer, head cocked. "C'mon, Black Cat. Don't make me chase you again. You know how much I enjoy it."

The tension between you crackled like electricity in the night air, familiar, dangerous, and undeniably thrilling.

You let out a soft, mischievous giggle that danced through the night air, the sound light and taunting. You took a few graceful steps backward until the heels of your boots were right at the very edge of the rooftop. The vast city sprawled endlessly behind you, a glittering sea of ​​lights and concrete far below.

With your back to the dizzying drop, you tilted your head, eyes gleaming with playful challenge beneath your mask.

"Catch me, Spidey!" you purred, voice dripping with sweetness.

Then, without hesitation, you let yourself fall.

You tipped backwards off the ledge, arms spread like wings as gravity claimed you. The wind rushed violently past your ears, whipping your hair as you plummeted through the cool night air. For a split second, the world became a thrilling blur of neon and stars.

A heartbeat later, you heard his familiar shout, half exasperated, half exhilarated.

"Seriously!? Again!?"

The wind roared past you as you dropped through the open air. Seconds later, you heard Spider-Man's familiar shout as he dove after you like a crimson bullet.

"Got you-!"

He reached out with both arms, ready to catch you against his chest. At the very last moment, you twisted your body with feline grace, spinning mid-air like a black shadow. His fingers barely brushed your suit before you slipped through his grasp.

You fired your grappling claw towards the opposite building, swinging yourself smoothly onto an open balcony on a lower floor. The landing was silent and perfect.

Spider-Man was left soaring past you, still carried by his momentum through the night sky. He quickly shot a web and swung back around, landing on the railing of the balcony you were standing on.

You turned to face him, mask hiding your smirk. The city lights painted your figure in shades of violet and silver as you gave him the sweetest, most innocent smile.

"Till next time, Spider-Man," you purred softly, voice full of playful promise.

Before he could lunge forward, you blew him a teasing kiss, turned on your heel, and disappeared into the dark hallway of the building like smoke, silent, graceful, and completely untouchable. Just like the black cat you were.

Spider-Man stood frozen on the railing for a moment, staring at the empty space where you had just been. He let out a long, amused sigh and shook his head, a reluctant laugh escaping him.

He was about to swing away when something small and glossy on the floor caught his attention.

A tube of red lipstick.

He raised an eyebrow beneath his mask, a faint, amused smile forming on his lips as he crouched down and picked it up. The lipstick was elegant, sleek black casing with a silver accent. He turned it over in his fingers, still slightly warm.

A soft chuckle escaped him. "Now, that's interesting." he murmured, amused. "I shall hold this thing for you for now, Kitty."

He knew you well enough to understand this wasn't intentional. You were always precise, always in control. The fact that your lipstick had fallen without you realizing it made the discovery feel strangely intimate.

He popped the cap open for a moment, staring at the bold red shade before closing it again. With a small smirk, he tucked the lipstick safely into a hidden pocket on his suit.

He shot a web towards the next building and launched himself back into the night sky, the city lights blurring around him. Even as he swung through Seoul, the faint smile never left his face.

Meanwhile, several buildings away, you moved silently across rooftops, completely unaware that you had left a small trace of yourself behind.

--

"Well, this is new," Jisung drawled, leaning back in his chair with a lazy grin. "Never thought the ever-so-punctual Y/N could be late to class too."

You rolled your eyes and let out a heavy sigh the moment you heard his voice. Of all days, he just had to be your seatmate today. It wasn't that you hated him, really. Far from it-but your morning had already been a disaster, and the last thing you needed was his teasing.

"Don't start," you muttered, dropping into the chair beside him with more force than necessary. You shoved your bag under the desk and ran a hand through your slightly messy hair, still feeling irritated.

Jisung tilted his head, studying your face with open curiosity. His playful smile didn't fade even a little.

"Rough morning?" he asked, voice softer this time, though the teasing glint in his eyes remained.

"Worst," you replied flatly, exhaling through your nose as you slumped forward, resting your chin against your palm on the desk.

Jisung turned in his seat to face you properly, his usual playful expression softening a little.

"I could tell," he said. "You barely wore any makeup today. Woke up late?"

You shook your head.

"I spent the entire morning looking for my favorite lipstick," you grumbled. "The red one I always wear. I swear I left it on my desk last night but I couldn't find it anywhere. Had to leave the house bare-faced because of it."

"Oh, yikes," Jisung said, trying his best to sound genuinely sympathetic. "That sucks. You really like that one, right?"

"Yeah," you sighed, clearly still annoyed. "Now I feel weirdly naked without it."

Jisung leaned his cheek against his hand, watching you with a small, comforting smile

"Well, you still look pretty even without it," he said casually, then quickly added with a teasing grin, "-but I get it. Girl things are important."

You let out a small huff, somewhere between annoyed and amused, and gently bumped his arm with your elbow.

"Shut up."

Just as you were about to reply, the classroom door opened and Professor Kim walked in, looking slightly hurried.

"Morning, class. Let's jump right in," he said, setting his laptop on the desk. "We're starting a major project today. It will count for 35% of your final grade."

He projected the assignment on the screen. The title read: "Innovative Solutions in Environmental Science."

"You'll be working in pairs. The task is to choose a real-world environmental problem, conduct research, design a scientific solution or prototype, and present your findings with supporting data. This includes literature review, methodology, and experimental design."

A wave of murmurs and a few groans filled the room. Professor Kim smiled . "And I've already assigned the pairs randomly."

He began reading from his list. When he reached your name, your stomach dropped slightly.

"Y/N..." he paused, "and Han Jisung."

You slowly turned your head towards Jisung. He was already looking at you with a bright, cheeky grin, clearly entertained by his luck.

"No way," he whispered, leaning closer. You let out a long, tired sigh and dropped your forehead onto the desk.

"How unlucky." you mumbled.

Jisung chuckled softly, nudging your arm playfully.

"Hey, don't sound so heartbroken. I'm actually really good at science, you know," he teased. "Plus, now I have to help you find that missing lipstick. Can't have my project partner in a bad mood the whole time."

You turned your head on the desk to glare at him with one eye. He just smiled wider, looking far too happy about this arrangement.

"Partners?" he asked, holding out his hand.

You stared at his hand for a second before reluctantly giving him a weak high-five.

"...Partners," you groaned.

The weekend arrived wrapped in velvet darkness.You moved like liquid shadow across the rooftops of Seoul's most exclusive district. The cool night wind pressed against your sleek black suit as you slipped in and out of the heavily guarded mansion. Minutes later, the 637-carat diamond necklace rested heavily against your chest, its weight warm and satisfying.You were perched on the edge of a tall glass building when his voice rang out behind you, smooth and teasing.

"Stealing from corrupt politicians now, Kitty? That's bold, even for you."

You turned with a smirk, silver claws glinting under the moonlight. Spider-Man stood on the adjacent rooftop, his red-and-black suit glowing against the neon cityscape, the white spider emblem bold across his chest.

You let out a soft, playful laugh. "What can I say? I have excellent taste," you purred, tilting your head. "Besides, this necklace would look much better decorating my neck than his greasy one. Don't you agree, Spidey?"

He took a graceful step closer, head tilted in amusement.

"I'd say it would look even better in a museum. Or better yet..." His mask lenses narrowed playfully, "in my hand after I catch you."

You grinned beneath your mask and took a few steps back, muscles coiled like a spring.

"Then come and get it," you challenged sweetly. Without another word, you spun and leapt off the building. The chase began. You soared through the night, landing lightly on the next rooftop before immediately jumping again. Spider-Man was right behind you, swinging gracefully from building to building with powerful webs.

"You're getting slower, Kitty!" he called out mid-swing, voice full of teasing affection. "Or maybe you just like it when I chase you?"

You landed on a narrow glass ledge and shot him a sultry look over your shoulder. "Maybe I do," you replied flirtatiously, voice carrying through the wind. "It's cute watching you try so hard to keep up with me."

He laughed—bright and warm—as he swung closer. "Cute? I'll show you cute when I finally catch you and pin you against a wall."

Your laughter rang out like bells as you leapt to the next building, heart racing with thrill. You glanced back at him, eyes sparkling with challenge.

"Promises, promises, Spider-Boy. You've been saying that for months, yet here I am... still one step ahead."

The two of you danced across the Seoul skyline, a dangerous, flirtatious game of cat and spider. Every jump, every swing, every teasing word crackled with electricity between you. But in the middle of a particularly daring leap to a lower rooftop, you miscalculated.

Your hand slipped on the wet concrete edge. A sharp cry escaped your lips as pain tore through your right palm. You landed hard, rolling across the rooftop, warm blood instantly soaking through your glove.You clutched your injured hand to your chest, teeth gritted against the burning pain.

Spider-Man landed a few meters away, concern flashing in his lenses. "Kitty—?!"

Before he could reach you, you forced yourself up and fired your grappling claw, swinging away into the darkness once more. You disappeared between two buildings like a shadow swallowed by night. Even wounded, you still escaped.

--

The image of you—Black Cat— clutching your bleeding hand refused to leave Jisung's mind. All week long, he kept replaying that moment, the sharp cry you tried to hide, the way you still forced yourself to keep running despite the injury. Every night he swung through the city, hoping to catch even a glimpse of you, just to make sure you were okay. But you hadn't appeared again.

Even now, as he stood in front of his closet on Saturday afternoon, Jisung was still distracted.

"Shit..." he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. He had spent the entire week half-present. During lectures, during practice, even while hanging out with the guys, his thoughts kept drifting back to you. The flirty, untouchable Black Cat who always slipped through his fingers. The same girl who got hurt because he had been chasing her too aggressively.

A heavy sigh left his lips as he finally grabbed a simple black hoodie and threw it on. It was only when his phone buzzed with a new message that reality hit him like a truck.

You: Hey, are you still coming over today? It's already 2:30 pm.

Jisung blinked at the screen, eyes widening in panic.

"Fuck. It's already Saturday?" He had completely lost track of time. The project meeting with you had completely slipped his mind. He quickly typed back.

Jisung: Shit sorry!! I'm on my way right now. Give me 15 minutes.

Grabbing his bag and notebook, Jisung rushed out of the dorm, still mentally distracted. Even as he walked toward your apartment, his thoughts kept circling back to Black Cat.

Is her hand okay? Did she patch it up properly? Why the hell do I even care this much...?

He shook his head, trying to push the thoughts away as he finally reached your building. He took a deep breath before pressing the doorbell to your unit.When you opened the door, Jisung offered an apologetic smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Hey... sorry I'm late. I kind of... lost track of time."

You raised an eyebrow, noticing how slightly disheveled he looked. He seemed more distracted than usual.

Jisung stepped inside your apartment, still trying to shake off the fog in his head. He was about to apologize again for being late when his eyes casually swept over you, and then froze. Your right hand was wrapped in a medical cast. His eyebrows furrowed deeply, concern flashing across his face. The playful, distracted expression he wore just seconds ago completely vanished.

"What happened to your hand?" he asked, voice suddenly serious. He took a small step closer, eyes locked on the white cast. "That looks pretty bad... Did you get into an accident?"

You shrugged, trying to play it off casually. "It's nothing serious. I just slipped and fell the other night. Landed on it wrong."

But Jisung wasn't convinced. His gaze lingered on the cast a second longer, and suddenly, his mind violently flashed back to that night.

Black Cat.

The way she had cried out in pain mid-jump. The way she clutched her right hand to her chest before disappearing into the shadows. The blood he had seen glistening under the moonlight.

His stomach twisted.

No... It can't be.

That's when Jisung remembered something. He dropped his bag on the floor beside the couch and crouched down to rummage through it.

"Is this yours?" he asked, pulling out a familiar sleek black tube with silver accents and held it up.

Your eyes widened the second you saw it. Without thinking, you lunged forward and snatched the lipstick out of his hand in a panic, clutching it tightly against your chest.

"Where did you get this?!" you asked sharply, voice a little too high.

Jisung blinked at your sudden reaction, slightly taken aback. "I found it on the floor in the hallway outside the lecture hall last week,"

You stared at him, heart hammering wildly in your chest. Your fingers tightened around the lipstick like it was a lifeline. For a split second, a wave of paranoia washed over you. Did he know? Could he possibly suspect anything?

Jisung tilted his head, watching your reaction with curious eyes. He noticed how tense you suddenly became, how tightly you were gripping the lipstick.

And then... the pieces started clicking together in his mind. The right hand injury, exactly where Black Cat had hurt herself that night. The same red lipstick he had picked up after she disappeared. The way you just panicked the moment he showed it to you.

No way...

He tried to push the thought away, but it kept growing louder. Jisung felt his heartbeat pick up. "You okay?" Jisung asked, forcing his voice to stay light even though his mind was spiraling. "You look really pale all of a sudden."

You quickly slipped the lipstick into your pocket and tried to act normal. "Yeah... I'm fine. Just surprised you found it. Thanks."

Jisung smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes this time. His gaze lingered on your cast once more.

"Then I guess I'm glad I kept it for you."

-- 

The next few weeks blurred into a tense routine. On weekdays, you and Jisung met at the library to finish the remaining sections of their research paper, the deadline now looming just a month away. The quiet corner they had once claimed felt smaller each time, the air thicker with everything unsaid.

Conversations stayed painfully polite—short exchanges about citations, methodology, and formatting. Every sentence was measured. Every glance carefully guarded. You both walked on eggshells, hyper-aware that a single slip, a careless word, or an unguarded expression could unravel the fragile secrets you'd both been hiding for so long.

Yet the nights told a different story.

Jisung's suspicions had grown into a storm he could no longer ignore. Every weekend, after parting ways with Black Cat beneath the city lights, he would see you the next morning bearing fresh marks of the battles they had fought together.

A vicious slash across Black Cat's cheek became a thin band-aid on your face by Monday morning. A deliberate trip in a narrow alley—one he had staged to test his theory—left you limping into the library the following day, your steps stiff and uneven. Each minor injury he inflicted on Black Cat, even though guilt twisted in his chest every time, appeared on your body like an undeniable signature.

He hated himself for it. But the evidence kept piling up, too consistent to be coincidence. The way you winced when you reached for a book. The fresh bruise on your wrist that matched the one he'd left on Black Cat's. The way your eyes would flicker with quiet panic whenever his gaze lingered too long on your injuries.

The more he tested the connection, the more certain he became.

Jisung made up his mind. Tonight, everything would end, one way or another. He knew about the ruby. He had overheard you muttering about it during one of your late-night rooftop conversations as Black Cat. The legendary Crimson Heart, a blood-red gem recently "donated" by a reclusive billionaire to the City Museum of Antiquities. The official story was polished and perfect. You both knew better. The ruby was stolen, another glittering piece of corruption hidden behind glass and security lasers.

He didn't plan to stop the heist. He planned to confront you in the middle of it. As Spiderman, he swung through the rain-slicked streets, heart pounding harder than it had in months. The cool night air did nothing to calm the storm inside him. Part of him still desperately hoped he was wrong. That the girl who sat beside him during classes, the one who never backed down when it comes to bickering with him wasn't the same person who danced across rooftops with him as Black Cat. That the consequences hadn't bound their fates together in such a cruel, intimate way. But deep down, he already knew.

"I knew you'd be here."

Your head snapped toward the voice, heart jolting in your chest. There he stood—Spiderman—perched at the far edge of the opposite rooftop, silhouetted against the glittering city skyline. The red and blue of his suit caught the moonlight, making him look almost unreal.

"Spidey," you mused, a playful lilt curving your lips beneath the mask. You tilted your head, letting the teasing tone drip like honey. "You're always where I am. At this rate, I might start thinking you've already fallen for me."

A low chuckle rumbled from Spiderman's chest, the sound surprisingly soft against the steady patter of rain. With a graceful flick of his wrist, he swung forward, landing just a few steps closer on the same rooftop.

Your body tensed instantly, every instinct screaming at you to stay alert.

"Hm?" He tilted his head, voice laced with something unreadable. "Why are you stepping away from me?" He took another slow step forward, rain sliding down the sleek surface of his suit like liquid shadows. "Don't tell me you're suddenly afraid of me."

Your stomach dropped. You forced out a soft, disbelieving laugh, trying to cling to your usual playful confidence. "Me? Afraid of you?" You took another careful step back, the edge of the rooftop now much closer than you liked. "Oh, Spidey..."

But every time he moved forward, you mirrored him with a step back. Your heart hammered wildly against your ribs, loud enough that you wondered if he could hear it through the rain. A nervous gulp betrayed you as your fingers twitched, ready to summon your claws at any moment.

"Y/N."

Your breath hitched sharply, the sound catching in your throat like a blade. The world seemed to tilt for a second. He had said your name with quiet certainty, as if it belonged on his tongue.

He knows. He fucking knows who you are. Ice-cold panic flooded your veins. How? When? Who the hell was he beneath that mask?

You forced a breathless, disbelieving laugh, taking another instinctive step back. "Who are you calling Y/N?" Your voice came out sharper than intended, laced with defensive edge. "You've got the wrong person, Spiderman."

"I wouldn't say a name if I wasn't confident about who you are. I know you're exactly who I think you are."

You pressed your lips together, your grip tightening around the jewel hidden behind your back. A nervous laugh almost escaped you, but you swallowed it down.

"I think all this chasing has been giving you the wrong idea," you said, shaking your head lightly. "I'm sorry, but I think we should end this here. This—"

The rest of your sentence got stuck in your throat.

A rustling sound came from him. At first, you thought he was simply shifting his weight, but then your eyes caught the movement of his hands rising toward his mask. Your brows furrowed in confusion. For a second, you could only stare as his fingers hooked beneath the fabric.

Wait. What was he doing?

Your heart skipped a beat. Slowly, he pulled the mask away from his face. The moment the fabric fell, your entire body went still.

Brown eyes met yours. Warm, familiar brown eyes. Your breath caught as your mind scrambled to make sense of what you were seeing. The face in front of you was one you knew. One you had seen countless times before. Without his usual glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, he looked different enough to throw you off for a second, but not different enough to hide who he was.

Han Jisung.

The name echoed in your head as you stared at him, unable to look away. Out of everyone, every single person, you could have expected to find beneath that mask, Han Jisung had never once crossed your mind.

"Jisung..." you breathed, the name slipping from your lips before you could stop it.

Of course he heard. He was Spiderman, after all.

The moment his eyes met yours, panic surged through your chest. "I'm sorry—I need to go."

You didn't give him a chance to respond. Before he could say anything, you turned and leaped away, putting as much distance between the two of you as possible. The wind rushed past your ears, but it did little to quiet the frantic thoughts racing through your head.

Han Jisung was Spiderman.

No matter how many times you repeated it to yourself, it still didn't feel real. Your heart wouldn't stop pounding, a mixture of shock and nervousness making it difficult to think straight. How were you supposed to face him now? How were you supposed to sit beside from him, talk to him, and pretend everything was normal after learning something like this?

The more you thought about it, the more your head spun.

The person you had spent months pining after, wondering about, chasing after without even realizing it, turned out to be someone who had been right beside you the entire time. Someone you laughed with, talked to, and saw almost every day.

You landed on a quiet rooftop far away from the city's glowing center and pulled your mask off, breathing hard. Your hands were trembling. It should have made things easier. Instead, it only made everything more complicated.

You couldn't wrap your head around it. Every conversation you'd ever had with him suddenly felt different, taking on a meaning you hadn't noticed before. Moments you once brushed off kept replaying in your mind, making you wonder how you had missed something so obvious.

That revelation alone was enough to keep you awake for nights, staring at your ceiling while the same thought circled endlessly through your mind.

The following weeks became a careful game of avoidance. Whenever Jisung tried to approach you after class, you'd suddenly remember something you forgot and rush off in the opposite direction.

Thankfully, the two of you had worked so efficiently that you finished most of the project ahead of schedule. There was no real reason for the two of you to meet anymore. That made avoiding him easier.

But Jisung was nothing if not persistent. He was determined. The questions in his head had grown too loud to ignore. He needed to hear the truth from your mouth. He needed to know if the girl he sat next to every week, the one who rolled her eyes at his jokes and snatched her lipstick in panic, was really the same person who made his heart race every night on the rooftops.

So on Thursday evening, without warning, he stood in front of your dorm room. He took a deep breath and knocked.

You were lounging on the couch in oversized clothes, hair messy, scrolling through your phone when the knock came. Thinking it was your roommate's boyfriend (who always came over unannounced), you didn't even bother checking.

"Coming!" you called out lazily.

You opened the door without a second thought. And froze.

Jisung stood there, hands in his hoodie pocket, looking unusually serious. His eyes met yours with an intensity that made your stomach drop.

Without thinking, you moved to slam the door shut. But Jisung was faster. His arm shot out with surprising speed and strength, his palm slapping against the door just before it could close. The impact made the wood rattle. You pushed harder, but it barely budged, his arm was unyielding, muscles tense under his sleeve.

"Wait—" His voice was firm, but not aggressive. "Don't close the door. Please."

You stared at him, breathing heavily painfully aware of how close you two are now, only inches away from yours. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the mixture of confusion, determination, and something softer.

"I'm not leaving until we talk," he said quietly, still holding the door open with surprising ease. "You've been avoiding me all week. Running away every time I try to get close to you. Just like how she always run away from me."

You chewed on your  lower lip. Your eyebrows furrowing, whispering to yourself and praying to all the Gods and Goddesses you know that he should not asked that question.

"Is it you, Y/n? You're Black Cat, aren't you?"

With a sharp, frustrated exhale, you grabbed the front of his hoodie with your uninjured hand and yanked him inside the dorm before anyone could see him. Jisung stumbled slightly but didn't resist as you pulled him straight through the living room and into your bedroom, shutting the door behind you with a firm click.

The moment the door closed, you let go of him and took a step back, breathing heavily. The cast on your right hand suddenly felt like a glaring beacon between you two.

"What do you even want from me?" you snapped, voice sharper than you intended. "If you're looking for all the jewels I've stolen, none of them are here. I don't keep that stuff. I don't know what else you want me to say."

You took a shaky breath, eyes burning with a volatile mix of defiance and vulnerability as you glared at him.

"Sure, I'm Black Cat. And what about it?" Your voice cracked slightly. "Are you here to arrest me?"

Jisung stood near the center of your room, looking strangely out of place among your things. His eyes slowly drifted across your space. The neatly organized desk, the black hoodie hanging on the back of your chair, the faint scent of your perfume lingering in the air, before finally settling back on you.

He didn't speak right away.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and electric. You could see the storm of emotions behind his eyes. Shock, confusion, something else.

"I'm not here to arrest you," he said finally, his voice low and steady. "I'm not here as Spiderman right now."

He took one careful step closer, then stopped when he saw you tense up. "I just..." He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I've spent the last week losing my mind trying to connect the dots. The injury on your hand, the lipstick, the way you move, the way you talk when we're on the rooftops... And then I realized it was you. The girl who sits next to me in class. The girl who rolls her eyes at my stupid jokes but still smiles when she thinks I'm not looking." Jisung's voice softened, almost pained.

"So yeah... I know you're Black Cat. But I'm not here to take you in or demand answers about what you've stolen." He looked straight into your eyes, vulnerable in a way you'd never seen from him before, not as Jisung, and certainly not as Spiderman.

"I'm here because I can't stop thinking about you. The real you. Both versions of you."

He swallowed hard, voice dropping to a near whisper. "So tell me... was any of it real? The flirting? The tension? Or was I just some game to you?" The air in your room felt impossibly thick as you stood there, back pressed against the door, heart racing wildly in your chest.

"Don't tell me you've seriously fallen for my other persona?" you said, forcing your voice to stay firm even as your heart threatened to beat out of your chest. "You must be losing your head if that's the case."

You tried to sound cold. Detached. You needed him to believe that this—whatever this was—could never work. You were a thief who lived in the shadows. He was a hero who protected the light. Nothing good ever came from crossing that line. You knew that better than anyone.

But Jisung didn't back away. Instead, he took a slow step closer, until your faces were only inches apart. His hand rose, pressing against the door beside your head, effectively caging you in without touching you. His warm breath brushed against your lips as he spoke.

"And if I do?" he breathed, the question hanging heavy between you. His eyes, dark, intense, and unwavering, searched yours desperately, looking for even the smallest crack in your armor. The playful, easygoing Jisung you knew from class was gone. In his place was someone raw, honest, and completely unguarded.

"If I told you I've fallen for both versions of you..." he continued, voice low and rough, "the girl who I argue most of the time, and the girl who makes my heart race every time she runs across rooftops... what of it then?"

Your back was pressed firmly against the door. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath. His gaze never left yours, not even for a second, as if he was afraid you'd disappear the moment he blinked.

You opened your mouth to protest, heart racing wildly.

"Jisung, we can't— this isn't—"

But he didn't let you finish. Before the words could fully leave your lips, Jisung closed the remaining distance and captured your mouth with his. The kiss was sudden, urgent, and breathtaking. Like he had been holding back for far too long.

Your eyes widened in shock. Your hands instinctively rose to push against his chest, wanting to pull away, knowing this was dangerous, knowing you shouldn't let this happen. But the moment his warm, soft lips moved against yours, all your resolve crumbled. A quiet, helpless sound escaped your throat as your body betrayed you. Your clenched fists slowly loosened, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie instead of pushing him away. The kiss deepened, and you felt yourself melting into it, knees weakening under the intensity.

Jisung's hand slid from the door to gently cup the side of your face, tilting your head as he kissed you harder, pouring months of hidden tension, frustration, and longing into every movement. His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

You knew you should stop this. But God... his lips felt like heaven. The way he kissed you, desperate, tender, and hungry all at once made your mind go blissfully blank. A warm shiver ran down your spine as you finally gave in completely, kissing him back with just as much fervor. Your left hand rested gently against his chest while your other hand slid up to the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair. A soft sigh slipped into his mouth as you surrendered to the feeling.

Jisung let out a low, shaky breath against your lips, like he couldn't believe this was really happening.

You barely had time to catch your breath. Jisung's hands slid down to the back of your thighs, gripping them firmly. With surprising strength, he lifted you up effortlessly. A startled gasp escaped your lips as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. He didn't hesitate. His mouth found yours again in a hungry, heated kiss as he carried you across the room.

Your fingers tangled deeper into his hair, kissing him back with just as much desperation. Every step he took sent sparks through your body. The feeling of being held so securely in his arms while his lips moved against yours made your head spin.

Jisung reached the edge of your bed and sat down, keeping you wrapped around him. He pulled you closer until you were straddling his lap, your knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his thighs. His hands stayed firmly on the back of your thighs, holding you flush against him.

He broke the kiss for just a second, breathing heavily against your lips, eyes dark with want.

"Tell me to stop..." he whispered, voice rough and low, "and I will."

But you didn't tell him to stop. Instead, you leaned in again, capturing his lips in a deeper, slower kiss. Jisung groaned softly into your mouth, one hand sliding up your back while the other stayed gripping your thigh, pulling you even closer. The warmth of his body, the way his chest rose and fell against yours, and the undeniable hardness growing beneath you made heat pool low in your stomach.

You rocked your hips slightly without thinking, drawing another quiet groan from him. His fingers flexed against your skin as he kissed you harder, tongues brushing, breaths mingling. Jisung pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, eyes half-lidded as he looked at you with pure reverence and desire.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he murmured, voice husky. "How long I've wanted you."

Jisung's hands tightened on your thighs as he pulled you even closer on his lap. The kiss grew deeper, slower, heavier. No longer just desire, but months of unspoken longing finally breaking free.

"Can I?" he softly asked, as he try to lift your shirt up. Your eyes fluttering shut trying to look at him, and when you nodded your head giving him the permission he needed, he stopped hesitating.

He pulled your shirt over your head in one smooth motion, lips immediately attaching to your neck, sucking and kissing down your collarbone as his hands explored your bare skin. You moaned softly, arching into him. The feeling of his warm palms sliding up your back, unclasping your bra, and cupping your breasts made you shiver.

You tugged his hoodie and shirt off together, finally feeling his bare chest against yours. The heat of his skin, the firmness of his muscles, the way his heart pounded wildly under your palm, it was intoxicating.

Jisung flipped you gently onto your back, hovering over you as he kissed down your body with reverence. Every touch felt like worship. He took his time, lips brushing over your breasts, tongue circling your nipples until you were whimpering, hands gripping his hair. Lower and lower he went, until he was between your thighs, pulling your pants and underwear down in one go.

When his mouth found your core, you cried out, back arching off the bed. He groaned against you, the vibration sending sparks through your body. He ate you out like a man starved, slow, deep, and devoted. Like he had dreamed of tasting you for months.

"Jisung— fuck—" you moaned, thighs trembling around his head.

He didn't stop until you came hard on his tongue, gasping his name like a prayer.

Only then did he crawl back up, kissing you deeply so you could taste yourself on his lips. You reached down, palming him through his pants before pushing them down. When you finally wrapped your hand around his hard, throbbing cock, Jisung let out a broken groan, forehead dropping to your shoulder.

"Baby... I need you," he whispered, voice shaking with restraint.

Jisung pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, breathing ragged. His hand gently caressed your thigh as he positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock pressing against your wet folds.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, voice hoarse with need.

You answered by pulling him into a deep kiss. He pushed in slowly. A broken moan slipped from both of you as he stretched you open, inch by inch. Jisung's eyes fluttered shut, forehead pressed against yours as he sank deeper.

"Fuck... you're so tight," he breathed shakily, voice trembling with restraint.

You gasped softly at the fullness, your walls fluttering around his thick length. He kept going until he was buried to the hilt, hips flush against yours. For a moment, neither of you moved, just feeling each other completely.

The stretch was perfect. The warmth. The way he throbbed inside you.

Jisung let out a soft, broken moan against your neck, his fingers digging gently into your hip. "You feel... so fucking good. I've been dreamed about this."

When he started moving, it was slow, deep rolls of his hips. Every thrust was deliberate, dragging against that perfect spot inside you. Soft, breathy moans filled the room as your bodies rocked together.

"Ah— Jisung..." you whimpered, legs tightening around his waist.

He groaned lowly, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Fuck, say my name again."

"Jisung..."

He kissed you deeply as he picked up the pace just slightly, still making love to you rather than fucking you. Every thrust was long and sensual, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, savoring the way your walls clenched around him.

You moaned softly in his mouth as a response, your hands sliding up his back, feeling the muscles shift under your fingers with every movement. The slow, steady rhythm made the pleasure build gradually, warmly, spreading through your entire body.

He angled his hips a little differently, and a sweeter, higher sound slipped from your lips. Jisung groaned in response, the sound vibrating against your throat as he kept that same perfect pace, thrusting deeper but never faster.

Neither of you spoke much, just soft gasps, quiet moans, and whispered names. You could feel every inch of him sliding in and out, the way he throbbed inside you, the slight tremble in his arms as he held himself back. Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your core, warm and heavy.

"I'm close..." you breathed, nails lightly pressing into his back.

"Me too," he whispered, voice strained. "Let go, baby."

A few more deep, smooth thrusts and you came with a soft, broken moan, clenching tightly around him. Jisung followed right after, burying himself deep as he groaned lowly against your neck, hips stuttering as he spilled inside you.

Both of you trembled, breathing heavily in sync. Jisung stayed buried inside you for a long moment, placing lazy, gentle kisses along your shoulder and collarbone as you both came down from the high.

Silence settled over the room. The only sounds were your slowing breaths and the faint hum of the city outside your window. Neither of you spoke right away. The weight of everything that had just happened slowly sank in. Your body was still buzzing with pleasure, your skin flushed and sensitive, while a deep, warm emotion bloomed in your chest.

Jisung's fingers traced lazy patterns on your bare back. You could feel his heartbeat against your cheek, steady but a little faster than normal. After a few minutes, he finally shatters the silence.

"...What does this make us?" he asked softly, his voice low and a little uncertain. His hand paused on your waist as he waited for your answer.

You lifted your head from his chest and looked at him. His eyes were warm, vulnerable, and full of quiet hope. For a moment, you just stared at him—this boy who was both your annoying seatmate and the hero who had chased you and made you feel so many emotions.

You let out a small breath, a faint smile tugging at your lips. "If you're okay dating someone like me... a thief," you said quietly, "then I guess we're dating?"

Jisung's eyes softened. A slow, genuine smile spread across his face as he pulled you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You lay quietly in Jisung's arms, your head resting on his chest as his fingers gently stroked up and down your back. The silence between you was comfortable now, warm and full of unspoken feelings.

After a while, Jisung spoke again, his voice soft against the top of your head.

"You know you're not just a thief, right?" When you lifted your head again slightly to look at him. He was already watching you, eyes gentle and sincere.

"One of the main reasons I never tried too hard to stop you from stealing those jewels... is because I know where they're going," he continued quietly. "Your methods might not be justified in everyone's eyes, but you're a hero too, Y/N. In your own way."

That acknowledgement hit you deeper than you expected. Your heart fluttered strongly in your chest, warmth spreading through your entire body. For so long, you had carried the weight of being the bad guy, the thief, the villain in someone else's story.

But hearing it from him—from Spiderman—made something inside you shift. You buried your face back into his chest, hiding the shy, emotional smile threatening to break out. Jisung chuckled softly and tightened his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your hair.

"Maybe... just maybe," you whispered against his skin, "falling for Spiderman wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."

Jisung smiled, a bright, heart-shaped grin you could feel even without looking. "Good," he murmured, voice full of affection. "Because you're stuck with me now, Kitty."

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