Skz Fanfic - Tumblr Posts

𝓛𝓸𝓯𝓲 𝓛𝓾𝓼𝓽 ♡

{ Pairing } - Producer.bf!Jisung x afab.gf!reader

{ Genre } - NSFW; s/f/d(dark)*, PWP, established relationship

{ Synopsis } - Your boyfriend doesn't know any other method of stress relief, other than creating music. He can get so consumed by it, it can become the stressor. So you decide to present him with a new method. That's how you found yourself walking down the street in nothing but lingerie and a long coat.

{ WC } - 2.9k

{ Warnings & Tags } - 18+ MDNI, *forced orgasm/slight dubcon if you squint, everything is consensual but there is begging for more when reader might be at her limit so that's why I'm including dubcon (for those who may find it triggering)*, use of pet names (baby, angel, mine, my love, good girl & Ji), very lowkey needy/soft dom & romantic sub dynamic, worshipping reader, oral (f. recieving), squirting, overstimulation, unprotected piv (do as I say & not as I write, pee after sex too!), creampie, cum feeding & eating, fingers in mouth, pussy worship, I may just have gotten carried away with oral fixations okay? FORGIVE ME.

{ Disclaimer } - This work is in no way associated or depicting the actual life of the members of SKZ. It is a fictional piece of work, and I do not own Stray Kids. All works of fiction are loosely inspired by SKZ, and in no way am I saying it is true to their character.

{ A/N } - I originally was going to post a Hyunjin oneshot next, but I wanted to finish this one in time for Jiji's birthday! It's 2 am on the 14th where I am heheh. Hopefully you all like it. Han producing music will always be hot asf for me personally lmao. Barely proofread.

The air was cool, seeping underneath your long wool coat. In any other circumstance, on a late fall night, the coat would be enough to keep the chill out. Today however, it wouldn't. But you still kept walking, determined to make it to Jisungs studio. 

You focused on the clicking of the heels on the boots you wore. And the sound of the wind picking up, signalling a blustery night ahead. The small sounds calm your nerves. 

You were anxious about Jisung's reaction, he was in one of his moods again. You understand, you truly do. Juggling everything he has to on his plate, it was no easy feat. There were times he'd just let that dark veil take over, and shut everyone out without even meaning to. 

You knew he was in that state again when you hadn't seen or heard from him in three days. It wasn't for lack of effort on your end either. Every phone call sent to voicemail, every text sent by you was met with the same response;

'At the studio, I'll text you after, angel'.

You knew it was time for intervention when Chan texted you that he was only coming home, at 2 in the morning no less, to shower and change. No eating, no resting, just back to the studio afterwards.

This had happened twice before in the almost year you've been dating. Each time you remember talking with him afterwards, he always said the same thing;

'making music is my stress relief.'

That may be true, but it doesn't change the fact that he is also a workaholic. One who easily gets lost in the creative space he has built a career off of. And once that diligence sets in, it's hard to shake off. 

So here you are, ready to try a new approach. Ready to offer a new kind of relief. An alternative. 

You and Jisungs sex life was far from boring. Far from infrequent, you'd say too. But it surely was more... monotonous. You'd never complain about it, and neither would he. There was nothing wrong with it. It just happened at the 'perfect' times in your relationship. 

Before bed, after date nights, on monthly anniversaries, to express massive amounts of love, etc. 

It was never to celebrate happiness, calm anger, or comfort sadness. Never to relieve stress. 

You were determined to change that. There was no reason you could not help him in any way you could. And in this aspect, you knew you could. 

Still, you were nervous. This would be new, he never did well with new. 

Your footsteps stopped, leaving only the sound of the wind in your ears. Until you pressed your badge against the card reader, listening to the beeps, to the gears unlock. 

Once inside the lobby, the clinking of your heels against the vinyl tile filled your ears. Each step matches the thumping in your heart, you find yourself speed walking.

 You smiled and gave a little wave to the staff in the lobby, and they returned it. 

In the elevator, the sound of its melodic music filled your ears next. The whirring background noise the machinery made, stopped, as you reached your desired floor. 

There was silence when you stepped off. The flooring is carpeted now, and soundproof rooms lined the hallway leaving the night quiet. 

You took a deep breath and made your way to the door you knew was your boyfriend's. It was unlocked, thankfully. 

You let yourself in, seeing the silhouette of your boyfriends back facing the door in the blue lighting. 

He was all about ambiance in this facet of life, having LED's lining the ceiling. The only source of light in the room, besides the glowing screens of his monitors. 

He was sat in his chair, headphones on, hood up, head nodding in tandem with his fingers tapping. 

You took the opportunity to slide your boots off. Opting to keep your coat on, you brushed your hair over one shoulder. You took your badge from around your neck, and tossed it on the leather couch that was against the wall. 

Padding your way over to him, you place your hand on his shoulder lightly. He tenses under your touch, and turns his head. He's frowning when he first faces you, eyebrow furrowed together. 

When he sees you though, he softens. The corners of his mouth slightly upturning to a small smile. 

"Baby..." He whispers, sliding his head phones off. Soft lofi music is filling the room from them. 

He grabs your hand off his shoulder, bringing it to his lips. He's pressing soft kisses to your palm, and placing it on his cheek. 

"It's late my angel, why are you here?" He says in a husky voice with more volume. 

Your heart flutters at his gentleness, and you bend down to press your own lips to the top of his head. A musky, yet spicy vanilla scent fills your nostrils. His scent. 

"I'm here to help you baby." You murmur to him softly. 

That caught his attention. He fully swivelled around to face you, taking both of your hands in his. He gazed up into your eyes, a curious look on his face. 

You smiled down on him, feeling nothing but love for this man. You'd relax him in any way you can. You placed a hand on each side of his face, bending down again. No more words were said as you kissed him. As your hands slid down his neck, his found themselves on yours, pulling you closer to him. Matching your eagerness.

You let your hands fully slide off him, and tilted your head to deepen the kiss. Your trembling fingers were working the buttons on your coat. One by one, releasing the fabric from your bare skin. 

You stood up, letting the coat fall from your shoulders.

Jisung lets out a soft gasp, and licks his lips. 

Exposed to him, was his favorite lingerie you owned. It was a bra and panty set, satin and lace. Revealing. 

All white. 

Your boyfriends favorite part. He always said that the contrast against your melanated skin was a work of art. He joked about commissioning Hyunjin, if he didn't have to see you essentially naked.

So here you stood before him, presenting yourself to him. Silently willing him to do as he pleases. To take your body and use you to decompress. You were too nervous to say it.

He traces the swell of your breast with a finger, curving around the delicate lace. It's a simple touch, but it still sends a shiver down your spine. Goosebumps blooming on your skin. 

"So sexy." He mumbles, eyes roving your whole body. 

He stands up, kissing you desperately, and walking you back to the couch. Your knees hit the back of it, and you're forced to sit. Lips ripping away from his, panting at the desire in his eyes. 

All your nerves were gone. New or not, it would never change the fact that Jisung craved you as much as you craved him. 

He held himself up with his hands on the back of the couch, and hovered above you for a moment looking you in the eyes. 

Then he was sinking to the ground, on his knees, between your legs. His hands smooth over your thighs, making them pliant with soft kisses, before he spreads them open. Your pussy is glistening behind the lace, and he licks his lips again. 

His hand glides from your thigh, to your heat. Thumb brushing against that sensitive bud, the friction eliciting a whine from you. 

His eyes snap up to you, and he holds your gaze as his tongue licks a stripe up your clothed core. The tip of it flicking deliciously against your sensitive clit. 

"Mmmm..." He groaned at the taste of you, "All for me?"

You moan at his tongue swiping against you again, and again, "All for you, my love." 

His fingers hook underneath the band of your underwear, and he peels them off you. He's whimpering, watching as strings of your arousal stick to them. The cool air is hitting your sex, before puffs of hot air from his mouth is. And you're shivering again at the sensation. 

A gasp escapes you when his tongue slides between your folds. Lapping up your juices, and suckling at that bundle of nerves. You listen to the wet sounds his mouth is making against you, along with the broken melody coming from his head set. You get lost in it. 

Your hand finds his hair, and you're grinding against his mouth. He's whimpering and moaning with you, one hand palming at his bulge. The other has fingers teasing your entrance. 

You let out a loud moan when two fingers push into you, and your grasp on his hair loosens. He takes the opportunity to get air, panting, mouth hanging open. His cheeks, chin and lips all shine in the dull blue light. 

His fingers continue to pump into you as he watches your face contort for him. He's smiling with lidded eyes, basking in the fact that he's making you feel so good. 

"Ji..." You moan, needing more.

"My beautiful baby, let me worship you a little longer." And he's diving back down.

His tongue focuses on your clit, and fingers coaxing that gummy spot inside you. He's pulling moan after moan from you, making out with your lower lips, bringing you closer to the edge. Your thighs start trembling around his head, and he has to grip the fleshy part of one of them to stop you from squeezing him before he's finished. 

You're spilling over the edge, body alight and your release coating his fingers, and face. He's lapping up every little bit, determined to taste your pleasure on his tongue. Only when you start to whine from constant overstimulation does he stop. 

He's kissing his way up to your lips, leaving a wet trail behind him that you couldn't bring yourself to care about. 

You're not sure when he managed to discard his pants and boxers, but you feel his hard, bare length pressing against your inner thigh. 

He's rubbing his member against your pussy now, letting your slick and his saliva cover him. Kissing your neck as he's rocking against you, he whispers, "Angel, do you have another one for me?"

Of course you did, you knew you did. You needed to feel him, you needed to please him. So you started nodding fervently, eyes rolling in the back of your head when he sucked lightly near your ear and jaw. 

He had a grasp of his cock now, dragging the head through your folds with added pressure. Each squelch of your juices sounds like music to your ears, anticipation building in your body.

"'Gonna make you feel s'good." He's whining into your neck. 

He has your legs around him now, as he fills you slowly, both of you savoring the sensations it brings. Your pussy spasms around him, and it has him grunting. 

"Always feel so good squeezin' me..." He mumbled, letting you adjust, "...exactly what I needed..." 

Then he was pumping into you, and you felt it. All the frustrations he was holding onto, all the stress, all the vexation. He was translating it into the energy he used to pleasure you. Letting go of it all. 

You couldn't hear the soft lofi music coming from his head set anymore, instead the slapping of skin and heavy breathing mixed with moans were filling the room. You'd never be more thankful for a soundproof space. Neither of you were holding back. 

Your moans only being interrupted by quiet curses, and his being peppered in between praises of how good you feel for him. He made it known he was chasing your high before his, begging you to cum for him. 

"Please angel," he whispers against your lips, "need to feel you cumming on my cock."

His pace became quicker as he kissed you, and his hand slithered down to play with your clit. Your back arched off the couch at that, angling him deeper inside you. He groaned, and his thrusts faltered for a second indicating he was close. 

Regardless he was determined to finish you, and his tone grew more demanding, "Be a good girl... cum for me, angel."

And that was all your body and mind needed to let go, legs locking around him and body shaking. Your hands slid under his hoodie, and nails dug into his back. It was the kind of intense orgasm, that your moan got stuck in your throat, instead a rough growl coming out. 

You sounded absolutely feral for him, and you were. 

That was what pushed him over the edge, a slew of curses leaving his mouth as his hips stuttered. With a final harsh thrust, he cums deep inside you. All of the negativity has dispersed from his body, and he collapsed back to his knees. 

You're both panting, trying to catch your breath. You jolt when you feel his fingers in your folds, over sensitivity taking over yet again. He's spreading you open, hypnotized by the way his cum is drooling out of you. 

"So perfect, fuck." He says as he drags his finger through it. 

He's bringing it up to your lips, and your mouth opens instinctively. You're sucking his finger into your mouth, his essence salty but familiar on your tongue. 

His eyes are locked to yours as you work his finger, licking it clean. He slips a second finger in your mouth, letting you cover them in your saliva before he dips back down for a taste himself. 

You're whining around his fingers when his tongue glides against your clit, and your hips try to retract into the couch. Quickly, he has both hands on your hips, securing you in place so he can continue tasting you. 

"We taste so good together, my love..." He's mumbling against you. 

His words will never fail to coax submission out of you.

Your hand flies back to his hair, as good as it feels you're trying to pull him away. He's just burying his face deeper, tongue dipping into your entrance to make sure he's tasting everything. 

"Ji... s'too much... I can't-" You're pleading, even though you feel yourself succumbing to the overwhelming brushes of his tongue.

He hisses when you finally succeed in pulling him off you, "Please angel," He's begging again, "Just one more. I know you have one more for me." 

"Fuck, Ji, I-" 

He silences you with his tongue flat against you, another lick up to your clit "Please, need to hear you cumming one more time for me." He whines and starts leaving sloppy, wet kisses on your pussy. 

You always knew he was more of a giver. That even though it was you who had cum twice, and he only once. He preferred it that way. Even if he was the one needing the release more, he thrived more on your pleasure.

"Just be gentl-" You try to say, but cut yourself off with a groan. 

He's eagerly slurping at your core. Lost in the moment, all he has is your pussy on his mind now. Messily licking and lapping at every inch. He's shaking his head and moaning into it, keeping you pinned in place by your hips. 

You feel another orgasm starting to build quickly, clenching around nothing. He risks you bucking your hips roughly into his face, and takes a hand off your hip. He's pushing two fingers into you yet again, and you're seeing stars. 

His fingers curl, and his lips close around your clit, sucking lightly. You feel your release slip away from you, and your cumming on his face again. Yelling his name. He only grows more determined.

He leans back so he can watch the beautiful, writhing, mess he reduced you to. The thumb of his other hand is replacing his mouth, continuously flicking your bud. He doesn't slow his movements as you ride out your orgasm, instead picking them up. 

Your world turns white, and you feel yourself squirt on his hands. He's watching you in awe, whispering more praise for you as your juices spray over him. 

"So fucking sexy, my good girl."

"That's it, let go for me, let it all go."

"Knew you had one more in you, all for me."

"My perfect angel."

It's when you start to slip into that floaty space that he finally stops. He doesn't want you too gone, he's limited in the care he can provide here.

He's positioning you to lay on the couch, and he's laying behind you. You're both wet and sticky, and heaving for air. Yet, it's blissful. 

You lay there for what could've been minutes or an hour, you weren't sure. You were content in each other's touch. Your arm reaches back to caress his head, fingers combing through his hair. He's humming. 

"I love you." You finally murmur. 

"I love you more, angel. Thank you for this." He says, and kisses your shoulder. 

"You caught on quickly to my idea." You giggled.

He laughed with you, "I caught on halfway through it, actually. I was just beside myself with desire for you." 

You blushed at that, and you were thankful he couldn't see it. 

"I mean you showed up in my favorite set..." He whispers and starts toying with the lace on your bra, his finger slipping underneath to flick your nipple, "In ONLY my favorite set. How could I not show you how much I admire you." 

You felt his length harden against you again, and he rolled his hips slowly as he gripped your hip. 

You knew the night was far from over. 

As for how you were both going to escape and clean up? Well that was a problem for future you. 

Taglist:

@eczlipse @sailor--sun @maisyyyyyy @jupire @prettiichocolateprincess

@meowmeowminnie @joyofbebbanburg @adieu-lisette @sleeping-beau-tay @staytinyluv

@lookitsjess @majorlymismanaged @kpopsstuffs @helloimacalumgirl @bbokarimenu

@bubblepop-stay @mauvemelon @ohhlittlegirl @ang4lheart @spnwinchestersd

@adieu-lisette @loud-minhoe @juwire @anylady-fics @antisocialties

@nebugalaxy @wowitsafemale

As always, please let me know if you'd like to join the taglist. And if you do, pretty please interact with my fics besides liking (ie; replying/commenting/reblogging). Although I will always appreciate liking as well! Feedback is always cherished! ♡

But again, please be gentle in your criticism! I am but a sensitive soul.

݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .☽ fae trap ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖

{ Pairing } - Elf!Felix x Witch.afab!Reader

{ Genre } - Smut, Dark, Fantasy

{ Synopsis } - It is said, that if you ever find yourself inside of a fairy ring. The fae will punish you, by making you dance until you are passing out from exhaustion. But when you find yourself doing a different kind of 'dance' on the ground, in the middle of one, with the most beautiful creature you've ever seen you might add, you wonder; is this truly a punishment?

{ WC } - 7.7k

{ Warnings & Tags } - 18+ MDNI, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, dubcon, aphrodisiac effects, oral (f&m receiving), unprotected sex (piv; do as I say, not as I write & pee after sex!), rough/hard sex, overstimulation, big dick felix, dacryphilia, talk of breeding & mating, talking of mating rituals, please don't touch fly agaric mushrooms, srsly they're toxic and deadly, possible incorrect french usage.

{ Disclaimer } - This work is in no way associated or depicting the actual life of the members of SKZ. It is a fictional piece of work, and I do not own Stray Kids. All works of fiction are loosely inspired by SKZ, and in no way am I saying it is true to their character.

{ A/N } - For the love of all things skz. DO NOT EVER TOUCH FLY AGARIC/AMANITA MUSCARIA MUSHROOMS. THEY ARE TOXIC. DEADLY. This is also probably the darkest thing I've written on this account so far. But it doesn't feel inherently evil to me personally??? But it is enough to warrant a TW! This started off as a birthday oneshot for Felix. I'm starting to think I'm no good at oneshots. This could be left alone, but it could also be a series... I have so many world building thoughts, but idk if I wanna do that. What do you think?

Dusk was approaching as you made your way home from your walk. 

You were blessed to own a cute little home, right on the edge of a beautiful and mysterious forest. Every day you were able to take nature walks, wandering through the treeline, exploring the vegetation. Collecting materials, making sure never to take too much of what the woodland had to offer. And caring for as much as you could, though you knew you were not essential to the survival of wilderness itself. 

That didn't stop you from befriending the little critters who made their home there, or from essentially finding your own second home there. 

You never brought anything with you to permanently invade nature. Instead you wrapped your daily essentials in a little bindle. It usually contained a hearty snack, a book or two, endless vials and jars, your cell, and a small emergency kit. Homemade salves, balms, and tonics included. 

You always had some new shiny objects for your crow friends, making sure to exchange the gifts they left for you at your designated spot. And you always made sure to leave some nuts and seeds for the various rodents who liked to stuff their cheeks. Again, you didn't need to, but they really liked sweet black walnuts and salty peanuts in the shells. Who were you to deny them that treat! 

Some days you brought select crystals with you, cleaning and recharging them in the streams of spring water. Other days you'd use that same water, sealing it in jars and leaving it nearby to make moon water overnight. Those were about the only two things you ever left in the forest, always making sure to come back the next day and retrieve them. 

You always carry a little basket with you too. The forest was abundant in ingredients for many different things. Your favorite is mushrooms and fungi. 

There were many times you'd find a log of an oak tree, fallen over and resting on the ground. A bunch of chicken of the woods growing on it. You'd collect them, taking them home to cook for dinner or other meals.

Other days you'd find lion's mane, and make sure to gather some for your favorite tincture to make and take. It did wonders for your anxiety. 

You were a green witch through and through, and you were raised this way. You drew your energy and essence from nature, always taking little bits of it home. 

Today was no different. Forgoing mushrooms, you instead had bundles of mugwort and a jar full of mulberries in your wicker basket. Wrapped in a little cloth were a bunch of spicebush berries.

You were nearing the last clearing within the woods, your house was about a ten minute walk away at this point. 

The soft moss against your bare feet was grounding, and you were listening to the buzz and crackle of nightlife within the forest. Your white skirt ended at your knees, flaring out. The chiffon is blowing in the cool breeze. It was still tshirt weather, and that's exactly what you wore on top. A fitted one, pale and muted ivy green. You gave up on bras long ago, you were a solitary creature anyways. The friends who did visit never cared about your attire.

You were in your own world, playing a balancing game on a stump and humming to yourself, when flashes of red caught your eye. 

In the clearing, scattered in a broken circle, was fly agaric. 

Your heart fluttered at this rare find. You walk past this clearing daily, and never noticed any of the red mushrooms with white speckles there before. 

Eagerly, you approach. In the back of your mind, warning bells are going off. Thinking back to childhood, of the stories your mom once told you of the fae folk. You'd encountered fairy rings before, but never of this type of mushroom, and never broken ones. Certainly never one so big. You never breached the little white rings in the past, not wanting to mess with entities so possibly mischievous. 

But it would be fine right? This might not even be considered a fairy ring. It was sort of... circle-ish? But not really. There were so many gaps in between them, it wasn't a perfect circle like you'd seen in the past. And these mushrooms were so rare and so powerful, in so many ways. You could feel their energy radiating around you.

You glanced around, searching for any signs of immortal creatures lurking near. You saw and heard nothing, but that would be typical. They never willingly reveal themselves, in fact... You've never seen one. You've never seen any kind of fae folk. It's not that you didn't believe in them, you were sure some form of them existed. Afterall, you practice a form of magick. Your own form, and that exists. 

You were convinced all mythical creatures either exist or had existed, the idea of them couldn't come from nothing. Not when they were in so many stories across all different cultures. 

You paused for a few more moments, really trying to feel any negative energy. There was none, there was never any in your little forest. 

So, tentatively, you took a few steps forward. Then you paused again, waiting for something to pop out. 

Nothing.

You giggled to yourself happily, and then bent down to pluck the mushrooms from the marshy earth. 

They all varied in size, some were large with bulbous caps. Some were shorter, and had flatter caps. Each mushroom, you made sure to pick with a cloth barrier between them and your fingers. These could be deadly if used the wrong way or taken in excess. You had no idea what would happen if you came into direct contact with it, on your bare skin. 

You really should start carrying gloves with you.

You made your way around the broken circle, humming in between giggles, and unconsciously dancing. You were nearly prancing each bare step to the next. 

If you had paid more attention to your mothers tales, you'd realize the consequences of stepping inside a fairy ring were already taking effect.

You were collecting more than you needed now, your basket was overflowing. But still, you didn't want to stop. You felt strangely overcome with merriment. You never felt more at home in these woods than this moment. 

You mindlessly set your basket down, your humming growing in volume. You looked to the sky, as you allowed your body to sway back and forth. Arms stretched out towards the waning moon, coming to life in the dark sky surrounding you. 

Your eyes closed, soaking in the moonlight. And you brought your arms back down, letting them float at your sides as you twirled, and twirled. Your skirt flutters up to reveal your thighs even more, hair whipping in your face. You revelled in the feeling of the squishy dirt beneath your feet. You felt grounded, but as if you were flying all at the same time.

You don't know when your solitude was breached, or if you were ever truly alone in the first place, but you finally noticed his presence when his hands intertwined with yours. 

He was twirling with you, spinning you in circles. 

He was nearly glowing, strawberry colored lips revealing the sweetest smile you'd ever seen. His long, straight white hair framed his face stunningly, tendrils of it outlining his strong jaw line. And his face... so, perfect. He had hundreds of freckles splashed across his cheeks, nose and eyes. Even some scattering up to his hairline, and down to his chin. You'd imagine you could create many constellations with them, like the stars that twinkle in the night sky. He adorned various jewelry, all silver. In his ears, and a cuff across the bridge of his nose. He even wore a gorgeous crown that laid across his forehead as a head piece. It was thin, and wiry, made up of gorgeous silver filigree that shone in the moonlight. You knew that the rings you felt in between your fingers would be silver too. 

He wore all white. You couldn't be sure exactly what his outfit was, but his shirt was a flowing lace up top. Revealing delicate collar bones and toned chest. It was mostly a blur in the midst of his movements. 

Your gasp was delayed, only coming out when he pulled you closer to him. Your hand remains in his, while his arm is wrapped around your waist. You were nearly flush with him, feeling the rest of his chiseled torso against your plush body. But he kept your face at some distance to maintain eye contact. The smile never slipped from his lips. 

He has you captivated, and the two of you don't falter in your melodic movements once. His eyes bore into you, dark and sharp. Yet he exuded a certain softness, and you found yourself lost in the moment. It didn't seem real. 

But it was. 

You were seeing him. In all his glory, ever mysterious and breathtaking. The most handsome man you've ever laid eyes on. 

You were hearing him. He was humming the same tune you were, an old lullaby your mom used to sing to you. His voice was deep, and even, harmonizing with your breathy high pitched voice beautifully. 

You were feeling him. He was touching you, his hand interlocked with yours. His grip around your waist is gentle but possessive. He held you like he didn't want to break you, but knew if he was too loose, you'd go running. 

Though you weren't so sure you would run. 

Your mind was racing. There's no way you could stumble across a perfect stranger, who was immediately dancing with you, so close to the edge of the forest. So close to your house. Maybe this was some sort of hallucination. A side effect of being surrounded by so many toxic mushrooms. 

The mushrooms. 

That was it, it all clicked. Too late did the rest of your mother's words ring in your ears. 

His aura, his energy, his perfect pixie-like features. You noticed the point of his ears now, the glittery sheen to his skin. His smile is full of white pointed teeth, dull now, but you could tell they were once sharper in the past. His slight cat-like eyes, giving them that sharp look even though everything else about him screamed delicate.

Your humming stopped, but his didn't. Your mother's voice is filling your head, and you were repeating the words she once told you so long ago. 

'and if you're caught, the fae folk will punish you. You'll be dancing within the ring until you faint from exhaustion.' you whispered quietly. 

His smile only grew, a glint lighting up his eyes. 

He finally spoke, his chest vibrating against yours, "Wise words, from a magnificent young lady."

He had an accent, you couldn't quite place it. Something between old english and australian. It made you want to melt. 

He started laughing, and you were sure that if he didn't have a grip on you, you would've slid to the ground. 

You've both stopped twirling, but he's still moving you, moving with you. Swaying back and forth. 

"Who are you?" You ask curiously. 

"Who?" He chuckles, "Usually it's 'what are you', that people ask me. Though it's been almost a century since I have revealed myself to a mortal."

A century? Your mouth dries, and you feel something akin to fear course through your veins. But you aren't scared of him for some reason. Wary, suspicious, but not scared. 

"You're different though, you seem to have at least a diminutive amount of knowledge of my realm." 

You want to get angry at that comment. You'd like to consider yourself well informed and educated on all supernatural and magickal subjects. There'd always be more to learn though, and the human brain simply could not grasp it in its entirety. So he wasn't wrong. 

You're still saying nothing, dazed from his presence. So he continues. 

"You were right when you said fae folk." He assures. 

"You're a fairy?" You whisper, wonder dazzling in your voice.

At that he laughs again, and you swear you hear small chimes behind it.

"An elf. I believe that is the universal name humans gave us. Not all fae are fairies, there are others too." 

As he speaks, he lets go of your hand, bringing his fingers up to brush strands of hair from your face. His touch is warm, for some reason that shocks you. 

"Elf." You repeat, not a question, but a statement.

He hums, in agreement and starts to twirl you around again. His hand resting on your cheek, thumb brushing featherlight touches against it. 

You're trying very hard to wrap your head around the entire scenario. You shouldn't be surprised. You've dealt with other worldly things in the past. Spiritual realms are completely different from anything having to do with the fae world though. 

Worry floods through you again once you realize what's happening. 

"Am I being punished?" You lip quivers as you speak, "I-I was just trying to collec-"

He's bringing his head down, his forehead meeting yours. You feel the cold bite of the silver headpiece touching your skin. It's enough to shut you up.

"Shhh, darling. Don't view it as a punishment." 

"I don't want to dance until I pass out." You slowly say, even though your body feels otherwise.

Underneath the initial shock and caution, you still felt that overwhelming happiness. It was borderline euphoric... and strangely arousing. 

Everything happening inside your mind and body right now was so confusing. You were feeling lost, and found yourself clinging to the man--the elf, before you. 

"You pretty creature, don't worry. Danser dans le ronds de sorcières... that's for children." 

French? This being was a riddle. 

"I don't understand." You force out. 

He leans back a bit, so he can look into your eyes and your thighs clench, "We tell the kids, fae and human, that if a mortal is caught within our rings. They dance to exhaustion. The humans carried this myth with them into adulthood, while our kind later learned the truth of these special rings." 

He's still dancing with you, moving your body elegantly to a now imaginary song. Leading you in something reminiscent of a waltz, but you can barely focus on that when his touches are electric against your skin. 

"The truth?" You ask. 

He's dipping you down now, bending with your body as he once again is peering into your eyes. At first you think it's part of the dance. Until your back meets the land that was underneath your feet. The mixture of smells was potent. The scent of damp moss, and semi-sweet foliage filling your nose. 

He hums again, "It was never an entire lie, it always started off with dancing." 

The timbre of his voice was pooling wetness in your panties. You felt beads of sweat forming on your brow, and you were bewildered at how your body was reacting right now. It didn't make sense. 

His body is hovering over you now, his face coming close to yours. His nose is brushing along yours before he speaks again. 

"What better way to set the mood than a passionate dance, and in this case, under the moonlight?"

You whimpered, feeling disoriented and needing his touch. 

"I don't even know your name.", was the only thing you managed to mumble. 

He chuckled, and you felt his breath puff against your lips, "It's unimportant darling, but since you're so... alluring. You can call me Felix... I'd love to hear it rolling off your tongue when I make you cum."

You were mewling at the thought of fucking this mystical being, when you felt his lips against yours.

He was almost lazy in the way he kissed you. Seemingly in no rush at all. And it's not that you were complaining, but you wanted more. So you wrapped your arms around his neck, forcing his body flush with yours. 

He was smiling against your lips now, and you took the opportunity to swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, begging for access. 

"So eager. Patience little dove. You'll get what you desire and more." 

You knew it was absurd to lust after a man--an elf, gods how could you keep forgetting that, that you just met. But your body was burning and it felt like he was your only rescue. 

His hands wandered your body, groping and massaging every inch. 

He had your leg wrapped around him, his hand trailing down the back of your thigh and his lips attached to your neck. He was marking you with what you imagined to be the most beautiful bruises. You were panting at this point, and it felt ridiculous to be this turned on by so little. By a stranger. But it didn't make you want to stop.

His fingers reached the edge of your panties, and you gasped. You felt his smile again, he was enjoying every bit of this. You felt powerless to his strokes against you. Your hips were bucking up, chasing for friction.

His hand gripped your hip tightly, fingers squeezing into your flesh, pinning you further into the dirt. 

You hissed before whining, begging "Please."

"I said be patient." His voice was stern as he spoke against your ear.

It still didn't stop you from squirming beneath him, your mind wasn't registering anything beyond wanting to feel him filling you up. 

He brought his face back to yours, eyes gleaming and the most naughty expression written across it. 

"Fine. As you wish, little dove. But don't forget, I was trying to ease you into this." 

He tore your panties off of you, and his fingers were rubbing against you harshly, sending jolts of pleasure through you. 

"A-aaah!" You were moaning loudly, his movements jarring.

"This is what you wanted darling, isn't it?" He's muttering against your lips now, slipping his fingers into you. 

Your body feels more alive than ever, waves of pleasure washing over you. His fingers skillfully curl inside you, while his thumb works your sensitive bud. Swipe after swipe, eliciting more and more of your arousal onto his hand. 

His kiss is searing, and feels like the only thing currently keeping you anchored to your body. You felt your orgasm building quickly, the band growing tighter and tighter in your stomach. It felt like you'd float away when it snapped. 

You can't contain the lewd noises you're making. Between the moans he's swallowing from your lips, and the loud squelching from between your thighs, it was deafening. Or maybe it was just that your ears were ringing. 

It felt like only seconds later when he brought you over the edge, his movements slowing but never stopping. You're whining, and your legs are trembling but you don't want him to stop. You're nearing over sensitivity and when you close your eyes, you see nothing but stars.

All you can think of are the freckled constellations on his cheek. 

You feel drunk on this moment, and you don't want it to end. It's as if he knows exactly where your mind is when he speaks again.

"You're not done little dove, don't you worry your pretty little head." 

When you open your eyes, and tilt your head up, his shirt and pants are discarded. Revealing a dizzying body. He was lithe yet chiseled. His body is almost dainty, but each muscle is carved in the most irresistible way. His abs were glorious, your eyes trail lower, following the v cut. You notice the faint spattering of a happy trail, and your eyes follow it. 

And fuck.

You've never been one to view someones cock as pretty but... his was. The tip was so swollen and pink, and leaking generous amounts of precum. Faint blue veins prominent along the shaft, and he stood tall and proud. His girth made you wonder if you could handle the stretch. It had been a while since you'd last been intimate. 

He brought his hand, covered in your slick, to his member. Spreading it all over in a mixture with his precum, making it glisten. Your mouth started to water, and your legs spread wider for him. You pulled your skirt completely up, presenting yourself to him. 

His jaw was slack, mouth hung open as he watched you, fist pumping himself slowly. 

"Such a good girl for me darling, aren't you?" He said with that charming smile. 

There was something about the way he looked at you, while doing such a perverse act that had your juices dripping down you. 

Then he was on top of you again, cock sliding into you. Your entire body tensed at the intrusion and you wailed, a mix of pain and pleasure. But it was so satisfying, you couldn't get enough. Your arms wrapped around his neck again, and he was thrusting into you at a brutal pace. 

Your back was digging into the ground, and you started to feel bits of grass and dirt against your skin. You pulled against him, trying to adjust yourself so you could lose yourself in the dance you two were now performing. 

He pulled out of you, and sat back on his knees, that's when you noticed his clothes underneath him. You had no idea he was wearing a cape earlier. It was sprawled out, creating a barrier between him and the ground. 

He picked you up, and positioned you to straddle his lap, facing him. Then he slid back into you, your eyes rolled back, and you let out a filthy moan. 

This position felt more intimate but still desperate, he was reaching deeper into you. The head of his cock pistoning against your g-spot. It felt so good you could cry. 

You were crying, you realized. 

"Shhh, little dove, you're taking it so well. It feels so good, doesn't it?" 

"Yes!" You sob. 

He's wiping the tears from your eyes with his fingers, and smiling at you like you're the most precious thing on this planet. 

"That's right, pretty. So pretty when you cry." He groans out, and his pace grows faster, rougher.

His hand dips down between you, and he's toying with your clit now. In any other circumstance, you'd be embarrassed by the way your body uncontrollably trembles. Your muscles are spasming at his touch. You just couldn't bring yourself to care, he was making you feel too good. 

"Darling," He purred, as he slowed his thrusts and pinched your clit between two fingers, rolling it, "I want you to look me in the eyes when you cum for me, can you do that?" 

You were mewling as you nodded your head frantically, feeling your peak rush towards you. 

At that he started fucking into you harshly, almost painfully, and you were coming undone with a loud cry on top of him. Your body tensed, nails digging into his shoulders, struggling not to throw your head back. His hand that was playing with you, gripped your jaw, smearing your own arousal on your face.

He was making sure you kept your word, maintaining your gaze on his while you clenched around him. Your eyes were fluttering as you tried to keep them open. He was biting his lip, eyebrows scrunched together as he fucked you through your orgasm. Watching your face contorted in pleasure. 

"So tight." He grunted.

You were scratching at him now, nails dragging down his shoulders. And your mouth was hung open in a silent scream, your voice having given up on you. 

It was becoming overwhelming. 

You still didn't want it to stop.

"I know you can take it darling, take it." He growled, gripping both your hips now to steady you.

So you did, until you were limp in his arms, and he was releasing into you with a groan. 

Your head was resting on his shoulder. Sweaty skin sticking to each other, and he was soothing you. Humming and stroking your hair gently. You were breathing heavily, trying to come down from this mind blowing experience. But you weren't descending, not mentally. You were still riding that high, stuck in a lust filled haze. 

He started to roll his hips tantalizingly slow, and you hissed at it, feeling slight pain. Mostly you were shocked he was still hard. 

His chest vibrated while he quietly laughed, "Did you forget the 'more' part, darling. I keep telling you, we're not done yet." 

You whined at the sensation of his gentle movements. 

"Shhh, there there." He's teasing you, "Are we a little sore?"

"Yes." You breathed.

"I can fix that." 

You gasped when he slid out of you, hating the fact that you felt so empty. 

He was positioning you to lay down on his clothes, taking care that no part of you touched the ground. You just let him handle you, molding your pliant body however he wanted it.

His hands were rubbing down your arms, and he was smiling down at you. When you met his eyes, you couldn't explain the exact emotions you were feeling. You'd let this man take your soul if he asked right now. 

He was licking his lips as his hand trailed back to your core. You gasped again, then whined when he dragged his fingers through your swollen folds. His touch was almost massaging, yet sensual. He was touching everywhere, teasingly avoiding your sensitive bud. 

The more he touched you, the more you writhed. And sensing another comment about how you can't be still or patient, you yanked him down to you so you could kiss him. 

You were tired of just laying there, you wanted to start giving. To start touching.

You didn't know where all this stamina came from, but you were determined to use it. You jerked your hips up, leaning more into his touch. 

It wasn't until you reached down to wrap your fingers around his length that he paused his movements. 

He was still slick with your cum. And you used that to give him slow strokes.

He let out a hoarse moan against your lips, before pressing his fingers directly on your clit, rubbing in small circles. He was matching your tempo directly. You whined into the kiss, your hand picking up pace. Pumping him faster now, and he followed your lead. 

Or so you thought, just as you felt your climax starting to build, his fingers were being pulled away. 

He took your hand off him, and then crawled down your body, coming face to face with your core. 

"So pretty, even here darling." 

You were blushing at his words, but you couldn't take your eyes off of his, as he stared at you from between your thighs. 

"Still sore? Let me make it feel better, little dove." 

And you felt his tongue lave through your folds. It was gentle and it felt hot, and it drove you crazy. The flicks of his tongue against your clit were maddening, and you wanted more. 

Your hips started slowly moving against his face, and this time he let you. He lets you roll your hips, and grind against his face. His tongue flattened against you, and you slid your hand into his blindingly white locks. You started grinding against him harshly, losing all sense and control of your body and just focusing on climaxing. 

He let himself be used by you, and as your grip in his hair tightened, so did that feeling in your stomach. You felt another orgasm come over you, and he let you ride it out, quite literally.  

You expected to start feeling spent by now, but you didn't. So before he could climb back up your body to kiss you, you were sitting up and pushing him onto his back.

He landed on it with a thud, puffing out air and looking at you incredulously. 

You let the primal urges take over as you lowered yourself onto your stomach, and took his member in your hand. You licked up the underside of his cock, your eyes never leaving his. He groaned as you watched his eyes roll into the back of his head. 

You placed a soft kiss on the tip, and licked the strings of precum off your lips. 

"Fuck..." He whispered.

"Let me return the favor." You mumbled before you took his tip between your lips.

You let your tongue swirl over it a few times, savoring his taste. He brought his hand down to your face, and pushed your hair back for you. 

You let your tongue run down the underside of his cock, and you sunk your mouth onto him. You had completely engulfed him, and were struggling not to gag. Still, you never intended to stop. 

He was grunting as your head bobbed up and down on him, saliva collecting at the corners of your mouth and dripping down to pool at his pelvis. 

"Making--ah fuck--such a mess for me, darling." He groaned. 

He lets you keep at your own pace for a while longer before he starts thrusting into you. He kept your head in place, and you gagged and tears started running down your cheeks. Each stroke became more and more erratic, until ropes of his hot cum were shooting down your throat. 

He pulled you off of him and you gulped down breaths of air. He was caressing your cheek, swiping a mix of tears, spit and cum from your lips before kissing you. 

That's how you both continued throughout the night. Pleasuring each other, nearly non-stop, under the moonlight. Your mind was fractured, nothing else but him existed inside of it. He'd touched, fondled, massaged, and embraced you, until you could only respond with breathy whispers of his name. 

"Felix..." You sighed, when he was bringing feeling back to your numb legs by massaging them.

"Felix..." You moaned, as he slowly took you as you both laid on your sides.

"Felix..." You screamed as you came undone on top of him, riding him roughly.

He took you in many different positions, and you indulge yourself in each one. When he wasn't fucking you, you were whining in complaint and going down on him. If he wasn't going down on you, he was edging you with his fingers. Your hands never left each other's bodies, always needing connection. You were sure he was just as familiar with your body as you were by this point. 

The exhaustion finally hit when he had you on your back in a mating press. The last thing you remember, is staring up into the twilight sky. Dawn was approaching, the stars were disappearing before your eyes, as the golden glow of the sun started to peek through. 

Your eyes were fluttering as you fought unconsciousness, determined to finish fucking this completely ethereal creature. Felix was barely putting in an effort to fuck you, but he still slid in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace, as if he wanted to keep your orgasm at bay. You both wanted to extend this moment in time, but your body wouldn't have that.

When you finally let go, cumming on his cock for what felt like the hundredth time. That's when your eyes shut and you gave into the exhaustion. 

The familiar scent of nag champa incense filled your nostrils as you started to come to. 

Your bedroom, permanently infused with your favorite scent to burn, that's where you were. The familiar feel of your sheets beneath you, and your heavy comforter confirmed that.  

Your mind still felt a little cloudy as you started to recall how you got to your bed from the forest. 

That's when you feel a body next to you and your eyes shot open.

"Felix?" You croaked, your voice dry and hoarse.

He was laying next to you on his side, in your bed, in your house. 

He had the blankets pulled up to his waist, and was resting his head on his hand. Elbow propped up, so he could see you better. He was shirtless and he wore that same smile on his face, like he was so fond of you.

"Is that still the only thing you can say, little dove?" He whispered teasingly. 

"How- I mean, why-?" You stutter as you attempt to sit up in bed, but your entire body aches. 

You hiss at the burning sensation you felt between your legs. And your legs, gods, you don't think that they've ever felt so sore. 

"Easy darling, you need to rest." He said as he helped you sit up. 

He reached over to his side of the bed and handed you a glass of water, motioning for you to drink. 

You eyed him curiously as you sipped your water, finishing it rather quickly when you realized how thirsty you were. 

"I ran you a bath and kept it hot, when you're ready we should wash you up more." 

"More?" You questioned him.

"I did clean you up last night, I'm not a monster. The bath will help ease your muscles." He chuckled.

"How did you even know where I live?" 

"It's not hard to figure out, we weren't that far from it. Your house is the only one for miles." 

You still felt guarded around him, even after the night you shared. If the stories your mother told you turned out to be partially true, you could only imagine what other lore could turn out to be true. 

Now this mischievous creature knew where you lived, he was in your home.

"I know this is your sacred space little dove, I don't intend to intrude. However, I couldn't exactly leave you in the state you were in. How are you feeling? Is your head a little clearer?" He spoke softly as he brushed his fingers through your hair. 

It is. Almost all of that dazed feeling was gone, you felt more lucid. In that clarity though, a rush of embarrassment hit you. You felt your skin heat up at the more clear memories of last night. 

You were never the type for hookups or one night stands, yet the things you did with this perfect stranger... This perfect magickal stranger... they felt unspeakable. You'd never lost yourself so completely in someone else's presence, much less with your own... sessions. 

You hide your face in your hands and rub at your temples, trying to make sense of this entire situation. Of your own feelings. You didn't exactly regret it or hate it. Something still felt off. Not only was the entire act abnormal in general, and downright questionable. But it was so out of character for you. Did he use... compulsions? Did he have that type of magick?

"Thinking too hard will just exhaust you more." He said.

"Look..." You sigh, as you turn to face him, "I'm a little lost here, I don't know what to make of this all." 

Next thing you know, he's off the bed. He's picking you up in his arms, and you notice you're both still nude. Your face flushes again at that, and you struggle a bit in his arms.

"Be calm darling, I'm just taking you to the tub. We can talk about it all." 

You let him place you in the tub, and then he's sliding in behind you. Slotting you between his legs. He's pulling you back towards him, so you lay against his chest. You both sit like that for a few moments, absorbing the heat from the bath and getting used to each other in a new type of intimate way.

You should be kicking him out of your house. You should be cussing him out. Defending yourself, but why didn't you feel the need to defend yourself against him? Why were you drawn to him? 

When you think about the facts, some would say you were attacked last night. I mean there's a reason the Fae call it a punishment You didn't feel attacked though. You enjoyed yourself, as crazy as that is to say. 

You always knew you were an adventurous soul, but you never thought to this extent. 

How do you come to terms with actually feeling okay with this whole thing, when you knew you shouldn't be?

"You're a witch, right?" He suddenly asks you, breaking your train of thought. 

"I am... though I'm beginning to question the validity of that title, seeing as I have an actual magical creature behind me." You mumble. 

You knew the magick you practiced was real. You could feel it. It's not like you could create fire though, or move things, or transfigure things in front of you. You weren't even sure Felix could do any of that as an elf. You weren't sure of anything anymore. 

You felt like you were entering an existential crisis. Panic was starting to settle within you when you felt his chest vibrate with laughter, it was an oddly soothing sensation that you know you've felt before.

"No, you are. I can sense it, it's in your blood. It took me a while to piece it together, but you are a witch through and through. Sometimes humans don't know of their tie to the magickal world, but I figured... from your altar, among other objects and ingredients I've noticed here, that you knew." 

You hummed, your mother always told you that you were a part of a long line of witches. She raised you heavily within her practice. You never doubted her, but somehow this new revelation made it so much more real. You realize this was opening a whole new aspect in your own practice. A hidden world, seemingly waiting for your return.

"Is that why you came to me? Because you sensed a witch was near?" You questioned him, your hands playing with the water. 

"No, you stepped inside my fairy ring. I have to say I was shocked. I placed it in, what I thought was, an inconspicuous area. I hadn't realized your home was nearby."

"Okay, I'm going to need you to explain." You sighed. 

"Well... you already know what I told you yesterday. The stories you were told, were passed down by your ancestors and other mortals in general. You don't really just dance in fairy rings, that's a small fib we tell the children. As more human children found the rings, when we'd find them dancing. We'd send them off, warning them if they came in again that we would have them dancing until they faint. When our own children wandered into them curiously, we'd tell them the same thing until it became time for them to learn. It's just something stupid the ancestors came up with, I don't know... It does always start out with a courting dance though, but the main reason for them is, inside a fairy ring... you mate. They're essentially a part of an ancient mating ritual."

At that you nearly jumped up to smack him, but he was a step ahead of you. His arms tightened around your body, pinning your arms to your chest. 

"MATING?!" You screamed at him, trying to turn your head and make eye contact, "I don't fucking wan-" 

"Please, calm down little dove. It's not possible for me to actually breed you. That requires an entirely different ritual, one that hasn't been performed in centuries. I'm not even sure anyone would know how to perform it these days..." He trails off. 

"So then why even lay these stupid Fae traps for humans anyways?!" You screech. 

"They're not traps, and they're not meant for humans." He says defensively, and you can hear the pouting in his tone, "Think of it like this. You know how some penguins build big and pretty nests to attract a mate? It's kind of like that. It's a lot to explain in detail, and I had to create one. Now that I'm of age, it's expected of me to find a partner. Even if I don't find the need to." 

"And why do they exist in this realm if they're not meant for us?"

"Well, a long time ago, back when there was only this realm, and there were more Fae than humans, they came across one. That fairy was so angry at the human for intruding on something so intimate of his, and he threatened the human with a punishment. Before any of the other Fae could stop him, he entered the ring. When they both were inside of it, they were overcome with the magic of the ring. The courting dance had started, and no one else was able to enter. The desire for each other grew. In his anger he must've forgotten what the ring's intention was, and was only focused on punishing the human. But he never got that far. They ended up... mating. They never separated from that night, spending their lives together. It was millenia ago. It created an uproar though. Our kinds had never joined before that way."

You sat and listened, calming down a bit as he told you this story.

"There were battles, not an outright war but there might as well have been. They grew to love each other, and they led the winnings of those battles to stay together. They opened the door for Fae and humans to be together, but it has always been frowned upon from both sides."

There was an entire history of this world that you had never known. One that you could never even imagine to be true. But it is. Before your mind let you delve into it though, you thought back to something he said.

"Overcome with magic? These rings hold compulsions over beings?" You questioned hastily, needing to confirm your suspicions. 

"No. It's not like that..." He sighed, "Didn't you feel different last night?" He continues, "The mushrooms release something like a pheromone. An aphrodisiac, to enhance your sexual stamina. Among other mood boosting and energy boosting properties. It starts by uplifting your mood, making you feel the happiest you've ever been. Then you start dancing, your energy building up in preparation for what's to come. It's not until your partner enters that the aphrodisiacs start releasing. But it doesn't just take away your consent like that. Both parties have to be willing... it needs to be mutual. Though that's not to say that's not how every instance turns out. Evil exists in all realms." 

You shivered at his words, trying to process everything. You could clearly remember the primal urges taking over, the need to constantly be filled. It explained that off feeling, why you were acting so out of character. But you couldn't deny that you had wanted it. 

Craved it. 

You never tried to stop it, never wanted to stop it... In fact you initiated it to an extent. 

He started talking again, "That's why I couldn't just leave you there. Especially not in that forest, where other creatures lurk and might find you. I never felt anything dark there, but that doesn't mean it won't come along. I brought you home. I cleaned you up, I made you drink because you were getting dehydrated. I cared for you."

He was loosening his grip around you to rub your shoulders. It made you think back to the skilled massages he gave you last night, in between all of the sex. He made sure to take care of you the whole night it seemed.

"But none of this answers my question from earlier, why not place the rings in your own realm now? Why would any of the Fae place them here?" You asked.

"There are many different reasons..." He mumbled, "Some of them do it because they want to experience sex with a willing human. Some of them do use them as traps for humans, and those Fae are disgraceful, downright evil. Most of those types have been banished from the realm I come from. But some are like me. We try to hide them, from everyone. Because even though we're required to have them, we don't want to use them."

Then you thought back to his previous words, "Wait... 'find your partner' you said? Are we- do we have some sort of bond now?"

The silence was thick in the air. You waited for him to speak, but he didn't, so you turned around in the tub to face him. Your legs spread out on top of his, as you half straddled his lap. 

His eyes stared into yours, expressionless. It was much colder than his usual warm aura, so you grabbed his hand to hold it, and asked again in a softer tone, "Do we?" 

"We don't have to. It's not permanent. Most Fae who get humans within their rings leave them there once they've passed out anyways. Humans don't have the same stamina as we do, even with their boosted energy from the ring. The first woman passed out, that's where the ancestors got their silly tale from." He spoke tightly, like he was debating even revealing this bond at all. 

"I see." You replied, even though you had many more questions and didn't have a full grasp on it all. 

Not much made sense. In a span of hours you found out the true existence of a hidden realm, and these magickal creatures. You met one, you slept with him, then you actually slept with him, and now you bathe with him. You talk with him, as if all of this is a normal day.

It should all unsettle you more than it actually does. You should be freaking out, 100% meltdown level. This is the story of fairy tales, and maybe not a good one. This could be the big bad wolf and you could be little red riding hood. But somehow, you were comfortable in his presence. Comfortable enough to want to spend more time with him. To learn more, about him, his world, and this new bond. 

So you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his neck, giving his lips a small peck. 

"Maybe we could... figure it out together? See what happens next, if you explain more to me, that is." 

His eyes lit up with hope, and his charming smile returned to his face. The thought that you could wake up every day to that smile entered your head quicker than you could blink.

You'd figure something out. You had to. He couldn't leave your life now. Not when it seemed like it was just getting started thanks to him.

Taglist:

@eczlipse @sailor--sun @maisyyyyyy @jupire @prettiichocolateprincess

@meowmeowminnie @joyofbebbanburg @adieu-lisette @sleeping-beau-tay @staytinyluv

@lookitsjess @majorlymismanaged @kpopsstuffs @helloimacalumgirl @bbokarimenu

@bubblepop-stay @mauvemelon @ohhlittlegirl @ang4lheart @spnwinchestersd

@adieu-lisette @loud-minhoe @juwire @anylady-fics @antisocialties

@nebugalaxy @wowitsafemale @irrevocable-exposure

As always, please let me know if you'd like to join the taglist. And if you do, pretty please interact with my fics besides liking (ie; replying/commenting/reblogging). Although I will always appreciate liking as well! Feedback is always cherished! ♡

But again, please be gentle in your criticism! I am but a sensitive soul.

intro + master list

welcome to my corner of delusion.

The SKZ House (series)

Summary: When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see the Sigma Kappa Zeta fraternity ad for an "In-House Stay", you apply and are accepted. Your duties? Cooking...cleaning...oh, and pleasing your assigned members: Hwang Hyunjin and Bang Chan.

Chapter One: Of Breakups & New Housing

Chapter Two: Of Ex's & Tesla's

Chapter Three: Of Blowjobs & Birthdays

Chapter Four: Of Pineapples & Punishment

Chapter Five: Of Mirrors & Lessons

Chapter Six: Of Joy Rides & Hot Tubs

Chapter Seven: Of Watching & Submiting

Chapter Eight: Of Drive-Ins & Wishes

Chapter Nine: Of Halloween & Hallways

Chapter Ten: Of Yin & Yang

Chapter Eleven: Of Triple N's & Multiple O's

Chapter Twelve: Of Delays & Professor Bang

Chapter Thirteen: Of Girl Talk & Berry

Chapter Fourteen: Of Surprises & Closets

Chapter Fifteen: Of Showers & Cabins

Chapter Sixteen: Of Chan & Cuffs

Chapter Seventeen: Of Futures & Flights

Chapter Eighteen: Of Beaches & Baclonies

Chapter Nineteen: Of Chokers & Christmas

Chapter Twenty: Of Father's & Basements

Chapter Twenty-One: Of Rotations & Doors

Chapter Twenty-Two: Of Seungmin and Karaoke

Chapter Twenty-Three: Of You (Chan POV)

Chapter Twenty-Four: Of Changbin and Roses (Coming Soon)

References:

SKZ House Photo Book (to help you picture certain scenes)

꒰ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ random bf texts; kim seungmin꒱

🍥 pairing; kim seungmin x gn! reader 🍥 cw; swearing, established relationships, sex reference (suggestive?) breaking up jokes (emphasis on JOKES), a lobster 🍥 a/n; not much to say this time, let's pray it don't flop☹️☹️heavily inspired by me n my gfs texts <3333 I'M NOT VERY FUNNY SO APOLOGIES IN ADVANCE

"It's aright, Sunshine." (l.f)

plot; seeing Felix cry was never easy. But it's different as he cries while staring into the crowd of people who support him most.

paring; idol!Lee Felix x Fem!Reader

genre; fluff, comfort,

word count; 1.0k

warnings; 9th member, Felix is crying, established relationships, pet names

request; no

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It was their last concert of their tour, and they were wrapping up the last few songs. STAY was jumping and screaming as the group all danced around happily. Felix had started to get the feels a little before their last two songs.

 Felix had a love for STAYs that was unexplainable. They made him into the person he was. He loved them more than he would be able to explain. He wanted to be able to make them happy. Which he did all the time!! There was just that worry that he was disappointing them in some way. But this concert was proving him wrong. 

The STAYs had something planned. They had all written on some paper airplanes and started throwing them on stage. The nine members had all ditched their choreo, curious in the planes. They started making rounds over the stage, waving and greeting STAYs as they picked up the papers and read over them. 

Felix was so baffled by the act of STAYs. He read every word on the papers. Taking them to heart. At some point, he had backed up into the middle. He covered his face up with his green rag, gazing into the crowd with his teary eyes. At some point he broke, sobs beginning to rack his body as he stared at the many people in the stadium. 

(y/n) hopped around next to Jeongin, hyping him up as he sang his part. She was careful not to step on any of the planes that were still being tossed onto the stage. She glanced back when she realized Felix wasn’t doing rounds anymore. A frown coated her face. She tucked her microphone into the pocket of her jeans and walked over to the man in the middle. 

“Oh, Felix, baby..” She hushed. She gently wiped his tears with her thumbs. “What's wrong, dear?” She tilted her head, her hair flopping to the side. Felix stammered out some words which were all kinda just jumbled. But the motion to the planes and the crowd was enough info for her. Felix quickly gripped onto his lover, sobbing into her shoulder. 

The other members had taken notice of this. “Felix, whats up?” Chan rushed over, looking at (y/n). She motioned to the crowd. “Happy tears.” She said simply. “Awe, Felix!” Chan cooed into the microphone. “Stay! You made him cry!” Changbin said into the microphone, sending a playful glare to the crowd. The stadium filled with ‘awess!’. 

“Come on, Lixie, one more song yeah?” (y/n) said after she took her mic out and turned it back on. Felix nodded, following the group as they all began to sing their final song of the night. They all stayed more huddled together. Felix was hugging everyone, more than once even. Some short, some longer. He was making his rounds, waving and picking up planes. It went on like that for a little while longer before it was time to leave. They all bid their goodbyes, heading into the back rooms.

That's where Felix let himself cry and cry as he read more of the papers. “Come here, Felix,” Changbin said, waving him over. He hugged him, holding his phone up. Felix muttered something. Changbin hit the record button on the phone. “What was that?” He said. “Huh?” Felix stood off his shoulder a bit. He frowned. “Say it again,” Changbin said. Felix turned and scoffed. “Dont film me-!” Felix pushed the phone away. Changbin snickered, only to get scolded by Chan a few seconds later, causing him to pout. He still ended up posting it on bubble.

With a huff he turned to his girlfriend, who was laying on the couch in front of the fan. Felix sniffled and crawled on top of her, hiding his face in her neck. “Oof-” She grunted as the male's weight was laid on her. She didn’t mind though. She rubbed his back. “Hi, Sunshine..” She hushed. “Hi.” He sniffled. They had been dating for about two years now. It was still private to STAYs, but not to the other members. They fully supported them.

“I’m sorry for crying so much.” Felix sniffled as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “I probably looked so stupid.. Ugh, and it's all over the internet now..” He groaned into her neck. “It's alright, Sunshine,” (y/n) picked up his head to look at her. She wiped his tears. “You’re not stupid. You were overwhelmed by all the love from Stay,” She said. “It's a lot, you had every right to cry,” She added. Felix nodded a little. “Besides, crying is good for you, dove, don’t worry.” She kissed his nose. 

Felix smiled and pecked her lips. “Thank you, starlight,” He hushed. “Ewww! No sucking faces on the same couch i’m on!” Seungmin whined, pushing their feet off the couch. This caused loud giggles to emit from everyone in the room. Seungmin grumbled to himself before going back on his phone. “She is right, Lix. It's okay to cry. We all do.” Chan pipped in as he sat on the floor to stretch his sore legs.

Felix would always be so grateful for his members. For STAY. They were always so good to him, sometimes he was in disbelief it was all real. But it was moments like these where he was so glad to have all of them. They truly meant the world to him. He would do anything to keep it just like this forever.

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this was a little idea. i don't think it was written very well but its whatever- i hope youre all doing wellll!! stay safe out there, lovies! muwahh!!

all writing rights reserved to @his-angell do not repost or translate my work without my permission.

Thinking about giving Minho a handjob on the couch, with you sitting on the floor between his legs, his pretty thighs decorated with bites and bruises. "Come on, Min. I need you to cum for me," you tell him, your hands moving up and down his length. He whines, shaking his head. He can't cum, not anymore. Not when he already has twice in a row, his poor cock all red at the tip while his own cum serves as lubricant, making an obscene squelch with every move of your hand. It was a mess, your black shirt and hands sputtered with his milky white, the leather of the couch all wet and sticky, while his face is all wet from the tears and droll.

"C-can't—" he manages to stutter out before his eyes roll to the back of his head, his body tensing up as your hand focuses on his tip. "T-too sensitive, fuck—" He whimpers, his length twitching in your grasp. "I can't stop yet, darling," you coo at him, licking at the droplet of cum that's sitting on his thigh, "not until you cum for me again. Can you do that? Are you gonna cum for me again, sweet boy?"

He doesn't answer, not when your thumb grazes against his frenulum that has him convulsing under you, his spent cock shooting out strings of white as best as it could. He's crying now at this point as you milk him dry, squeezing out every last drop of his seed. He doesn't know if he feels dizzy from the intensity of his orgasm or it was because of how you climbed unto his lap, your clean hand grabbing his face squeezing his jaw open, only for you to make him taste his own cum.

He thinks it was the latter.

cw: a/b/o verse, hybrid!changbin, hybrid!reader, degradation, size kink, breeding kink, cervix kissing (do not attempt irl), changbin is a stud in a breeding farm, reader is in heat, implied mutiple orgasms, marking kink (idk if that's a thing)

a/n: lowkey wanting to turn this into a whole fic but its nearly 2 in the morning and i need sleep

[01:41 am]

"God, such a tight fucking cunt." Changbin says as he fucks you from behind, his large frame caging your smaller one. "Gonna fucking empty my balls inside you. You wouldn't mind, right?" You mewl at his words, too lost to even comprehend what he just said. The feeling of his large cock rearranging your guts in all the right places takes over your system, turning you into a moaning mess.

You were in heat, to begin with, so you were brought to a breeding farm where they ended up pairing you with one of their best studs, known for his pedigree, stamina, and genes, ensuring that you'll bear high quality pups in the future.

You can feel his knot growing against you with every thrust, making you whine every time it gets caught with the entrance of your cunt, only bringing you closer to another orgasm. Was it your 5th? 6th even? You didn't know. You've lost count after the 3rd one and if it were any ordinary day, you would have tapped out moments ago.

"M-more, Changbin, please--" You slurred out, arching your back towards him, your eyes rolling to the back of your head once his cock kisses your cervix, nearly breaching it. "Dumb mutt wants more, huh? Is your heat turning you into a cock-drunk whore?" Changbin says with a chuckle as he lands a spank on your ass, loving the way how your flesh jiggles upon impact. "Yes, yes, please need your cum. Wanna feel your knot inside me." You begged-- more like cried out. Tears were already streaming from your eyes at how overwhelming everything feels. Slick was running down your quivering thighs and into the sheets below you while your skin burns at the intensity of Changbin's grip om your hip every time he pulls you back to meet his brutal pace.

"Fuck, yes-- have my pups. I'm gonna breed you so full, I might as well mark you and make you my bitch. Your pussy feels too good to be claimed by other alphas on your next heat." He says as he leans into you, making his cock sink even deeper. You practically scream at the sensation, feeling so full and used, goosbumps forming on your skin as soon as you feel him nosing against the juncture between your neck and shoulder, inhaling your scent. His tail flicks with interest, the temptation of just sinking his teeth into your skin lingers in his mind.

"Ngh, please. Make me yours then. Mark me, alpha," Changbin knows that it was just your heat talking, but god does it spur him on hearing you beg like that.

With your walls clenching around him so tight, he couldn't help but just sink his teeth into your neck, making you cum on the spot with a silent scream, your body convulsing under him.

"You're fucking mine now, you got that? You're my bitch now and I'm gonna give you my knot so you better take it."

Mind Break

PAIRINGS: Seo Changbin x fem!reader

GENRE: Mature (smut, 18+)

CONTENT WARNINGS: just pure filth tbh, dubcon elements but it's all for the scene binnie wanted (pretend that they discussed this beforehand), thigh riding, anal fingering (f. rec), piss play, bin cums in reader's ass, bunch of dirty talking, bin calls reader bun/bunny, huge dom/sub dynamics. Let me know if i miss anything!

SYNOPSIS: After your boyfriend's constant teasing that left you sexually frustrated, he decides to play one last game with you: cum on his thigh within 5 minutes, or else you'll never get to cum at all.

WORD COUNT: 1.8k words

TAG LIST: @leyknowsbin, @goblinracha, @ch4nb4ng, @iadorethemskz, @abcdefgiwsmcty, @operation-steal-chans-laptop, @biribarabiribbaem, @chrisbahng

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Are you still mad at me?" Changbin has you trapped against the wall, his legs slotted in between yours, knee dangerously close to your cunt. "Fuck off, Changbin," is what you only tell him, trying so hard to make it seem like you are nowhere near flustered even though everything is completely the opposite.

Were you really mad at him? No. Not really. Maybe a little bit frustrated. He spent the whole week teasing you and pissing you off, and today, you had a particularly rough time at work, so him cornering you like this wasn't helping.

"Come on, Changbin. I need to shower," you say while you push him away from you, but he was strong, all those years spent in the gym now showing proving itself useful as he barely budges. "Not until you give me a kiss, you don't."

"Changbin, please. I'm not in the mood to talk to you right now."

It was true, you were nowhere near in the mood for his antics right now, but you still can't help but flush at the proximity between you and your boyfriend, especially when he finally presses his leg against your clothed core.

"I promise I'll let you go," he says, nudging against your cunt making your breath hitch against your throat, "but only if you do exactly as I say." He smiles at you, eyes turning into crescents as if he wasn't rubbing your sides sensually with a devious plan brewing up in his head. You'd say no, but Changbin really is stubborn, knowing that if you deny him again, he'll never stop bugging you. So with a groan, you drop your head in defeat, muttering "fine," under your breath.

Your boyfriend beams at that.

"Come on, sweetheart. It will be fun." He uses his fingers to tilt your head back by your chin to make you look at him without much resistance from you, embarrassingly so. Your cheeks heat up from the simple touch, making you almost forget that you were supposed to be mad at him.

Right. You were supposed to be mad at him.

"All you have to do—" you feel him press his knee against your core, making you gasp, "—is to make yourself cum on my leg. Then I'll let you shower."

Oh, ok. That's easy—

"But you have to do it in 5 minutes."

Fuck. That son of a bitch.

"Bin, you know I can't cum that quick—"

"Sure you can."

You can't. And he knows that. He knows what he's doing, and he's definitely doing it on purpose.

"If you can't, then I guess I can play with you just a little bit more."

Yup, he's definitely doing it on purpose.

"Binne, please," you whine. "You know I can't cum that quick, especially when I'm wearing jeans, and—"

Changbin clicks his tongue, and you can tell that his patience is running thin with the way he hastily undoes the button of your jeans before shoving it down to your knees together with your underwear. "Must I do everything myself?" He asks, obviously annoyed. "I'm already giving you a chance to relieve yourself but still you find a way to complain."

He doesn't give you time to respond and just slots his leg between your legs, your cunt now pressing against his thigh, making you gasp.

"Now move for me, pretty thing. Ride my thigh."

"Ch-Changbin, I—" he gives you a stern look, making you shut up almost instantly. So, with a pathetic whine, you grind against his clothed thigh, slowly dragging your cunt over the fabric until it goes damp because of your wetness. You use his arms for support as you continue, trying to find a good rhythym.

The pleasure is there, but dull and weak, the dry drag of your pussy against his thigh was far from giving you the pleasure that can make you cum, and time is already running out.

"Binnie, please, it's not gonna work—" you pout, grinding on him harder to add more pressure against your cunt, but it does nothing to help you.

"Then you gotta try harder, bunny."

You whine in defeat at his words. You are already trying, and you're trying as hard as you can. It's a game you know you can't win, and so you prepare yourself for your defeat, your shoulders slumping as you slow down your movements in both surrender and exhaustion.

"Giving up already, baby?" He asks you, and you nod, looking up at him with tears in your eyes and trembling lips. For a moment, he stays quiet, his features softening a little as concern now graces his features "Color?" he asks you softly this time, breaking character from his scene just to check up on you. Sure, there's nothing he loves more than playing with you like this, but god forbid he ends up pushing you against your own limit and hurting you.

You take a deep breath and compose yourself for a minute, now completely stilling your movements as you hold onto his shoulders to stabilize yourself. "Green, Binnie. I'm green, I'm fine," you reassure him with a breathy giggle, resting your forehead against his sturdy chest while he gives your sides comforting rubs, his gentle touches sending tingles on your skin.

"Good," he says, placing a kiss on the top of your head. "Now where were we?"

---

You've been dating Seo Changbin long enough to get to know him well— long enough to read what mood he's in, long enough to know what his likes and dislikes are, long enough to know the things that keep him up at night, long enough to know what makes him feel better instantly. But there is one thing that you seem to not get a hang of that easily, and that is his duality.

One minute, he's your soft, gentle, caring boyfriend, and then a hot, dominant, and intimidating person the next. It never fails to give you a whiplash at how fast he changes his mood, his aura because how in the hell did he just manage to drag you into your shared bedroom, strip you naked, and have you all tied up in a blink of an eye?

With your hands and feet bound to your body using the blankets, he has your ass up and chest down, completely unable to move your hands and legs as you lay bare and vulnerable before him. Your poor aching cunt is leaking nonstop as he fingers your ass, leaving your pussy completely neglected, clenching in need.

Tears stream down your pretty face as you try to angle your hips even just a bit so that the fingers that aren't in your ass can graze your clit, even just a bit just so you can feel good, but all you get was a spank to your ass cheeks as a warning. "Stay still, bun. Do you really wanna go for another week without cumming?" he asks, his hand that just spanked you now returning to continue jerking himself off with the same pace he's fingering you opening, biting his lower lip to suppress the moan that threatened to slip past his throat at the feeling of your walls clenching around his digits.

"N-no," you reply, staying still just like what he asked for the sake of not being punished again. Maybe if you were good enough for him today, maybe he could change his mind and let you cum.

"Yeah, I know, bun," he teases the head of his cock with his hand, squeezing the tip to gather more precum. "Couldn't last an entire day without cumming, let alone for a week. I don't think a needy bunny like you can last not cumming for another week."

"Yes— yes. C-can't, I can't. Wan-wanna cum, please. I'll be good, I promise! Please, just let me cum, please," you mindlessly beg, drool now spilling past your lips when he adds a third finger in your ass, further spreading and scissoring you open that has you begging for your release.

"You'll be good for me? You promise?" Changbin sounds breathless when he asks you that, and you figured that he might be close. The thought of him being able to cum and you don't makes you cry harder and chant, "Yes, yes! I'll be good, I'll do anything. I'll be your good girl, just please, let me cum!"

You hear him hum as if he's taking your words into his consideration and stops fingering you, resorting to prod around your stretched-out rim, but really, he's just trying to rile you up even more.

"I haven't really pissed in a while, bunny," he says, his fingers now moving again. "And I really need to go soon. I hope you don't mind me using your hole for that."

"Anything, I'd do anything, Binnie. Anything for you," you mindlessly respond, your hands tugging at the restraints a bit. "Just, please, let me cum."

Changbin takes your word for it and strokes himself faster, now groaning at your desperation. "So, so good for me, my bunny. You'd let me do whatever I want with you just so you can cum, huh?" You nod against the sheets, blinking the tears away from your eyes as you writhe under him.

"Whatever you say, bun."

You feel him pull his fingers out, only to be replaced by his cock, the sudden but welcomed intrusion making you scream against the sheets. "Fuck, bunny. Still so tight around me," he says before shallowly thrusting in your hole before he cums without warning, shooting his load and painting your walls.

"Take it, just like that— fuck, baby, clenching around me so fuckin' tight, gonna take my piss in too? Hmm?"

It didn't take long before the warmth of his cum slowly gets mixed with something less sticky, and before you knew it, he was already relieving himself inside of you with an unrestrained moan. "O-oh, oh my God, Bin—" you moan out in realization, feeling his piss just spill inside of you until it was too much for your ass to handle as it starts to seep around his softening cock, down your thighs and legs, and into the sheets bellow.

"That's it, bunny— jesus— just fucking take it in that ass of yours."

He finishes with a twitch of his cock before he slowly pulls out, piss and cum now starting to leak out of you but not before long because he has you stuffed again with a plug that he has stashed near him.

You lay there, out of breath, the stench of both sex and piss fogging your senses as your pussy clenches around nothing. Your boyfriend all but sighs as he rubs the spot on your ass where he last spanked it, admiring the blooming print of his hand on your skin. "Think you can keep my piss and cum for me, bun?" He asks you, and you nod again, too deep into the headspace to even give him a snarky remark about how filthy he's made you.

"That's my good bunny," he says, now undoing the makeshift restraint from your body. "Keep it in for me and I'll give you your reward, yeah? I promise Binnie is gonna make you cum because you've been so good for me today."

Dirty Bunny • lmh

PAIRINGS: lee know x fem!reader

GENRE: mature (smut) 18+

CONTENT WARNINGS: sex (quick, act surprised!), piss play, watersports, consensual video recording, p in v, creampies, degradation, humiliation, dom/sub dynamics, pain play (pussy slapping), mean dom!minho, sub!reader, just really filthy smutty writing.

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

A/N: ... very self indulgent, enjoy.....

MDNI ‼️

"M-Minho... I-I can't," you pitifully say, physically shuddering as your body warns you for the nth time that you needed to pee, the urge coming at you like a wave that washes all over your body. You wanted to relieve yourself so bad you feel like your bladder is about to burst, but Minho doesn't let you. Well... at least not yet.

He wanted to see how long you can last, how long until he can turn you into a sobbing and whining mess. He wanted to see you beg and break, loves how glossy your eyes get when you look at him, loves how fuckable you'd always look.

Clad with nothing but a flimsy tank top and some grey shorts with no panties (as per Minho's request), he has you seated in the bed, legs spread open as your back leans against his sturdy chest with his phone recording the two of you from a distance, properly propped on a tripod he bought specifically for moments like this.

"Try holding it in just a little bit longer, bun," he says against your ear, chin propped up on your shoulder just to get a view of your clothed pussy from behind, his own legs keeping your own open. "Min, I-I really can't anymore— fuck, c-can't hold it in anymore, I really can't!" He hears the desperation in your voice, high-pitched and whiny, your chest rapidly rising and falling as you try your best to hold it in. "P-please, Minnie. I can't— I feel like I'm gonna burst."

He already sees the dark patch on the crotch area of your shorts already growing by the second, your hips moving like crazy as you try to stop the flow. Minho only grows only harder at the sight.

"Dirty bunny, you really want to make a mess?" he says, sneaking a hand right around your waist only to slap your clothed cunt, making you cry out. "Your slutty little shorts are already sticking to your pussy, bun. Look at this," he says, cupping your heat over the fabric before pressing his fingers against the wet patch. "Your greedy little cunt just always wants to have it her way, huh?" You whine at his words, now watching the way his fingers trace the outline of your cunt before he taps at your aching clit, almost making you scream. "Minho— fuck! S-stop, oh my god, I-I might pee, please!"

You were sensitive, everything feels sensitive at this point. You fear that if Minho were to keep on messing with you like this, you might not be able to hold it in any longer.

"You're in no place to tell me to stop, little one," he replies sternly, giving your clit a harsh flick before putting his hand inside your shorts to finally touch your bare cunt. "You're already leaking, bun. Are you not embarrassed? Didn't I train you enough?" He shows no mercy in touching you down there, his fingers dragging over your slit before circling your clit. It had you moaning, hips lifting from the bed with your head thrown over his shoulder as you try to hold yourself back, cursing with reckless abandon and chanting his name like a prayer.

"You're so fucking filthy, bunny. Maybe I should start potty training you again."

"N-no, I'm good— I'll be good, I promise! I can h-hold it in just- just please stop— ah!— stop touching me there, please!"

He doesn't listen, opting to just watch everything unfold, a smile plastered on that sculpted face of his which proves that he truly is a menace.

You were at your limit, body writhing against him as you poorly warn him, no longer able to hold your bladder. "F-fuck, Minho, fuck— i-it's coming, I-I can't— can't hold it in any longer—"

Warm stream of piss leaves your body as he continues stimulating your clit, making an absolute mess on his hand and your shorts that are definitely getting wet. Tears spill from your eyes as you repeat the words "I'm sorry" over and over again as you felt the relief from finally, finally being able to pee, the pleasure from Minho's fingers, and the embarrassment from not being able to hold it in, all at once.

"Dumb little slut. Didn't I tell you to hold it in?"

Suddenly, he flips you over, pushing you down until you were chest down with your ass up. Your soiled shorts immediately gets removed and thrown away somewhere in the room with a wet splat before Minho (who was already naked the moment he started filming) starts to line up against your hole.

Using the piss that was still leaking from you as lubricant, he manages to push right in with no struggle, your warm walls wrapping around his cock.

"You really like pissing yourself that much, bun?" He asks, his thrusts quick and rough, making you crossed eyed from the pleasure you feel in your sensitive pussy. "You like being my piss bunny? Is that what you want? Is that what you are?"

"P-piss bun— bunny, yes" you slur out hands scrambling to grab unto the sheets to ground yourself. You were already so high strung, you can already feel your orgasm creeping near, dangerously building up.

Everything about this was just so filthy. You feel wet all over, even your tank top got dirtied too, the damp fabric now bunched around your chest as Minho's hands found its way to grope your tits and play with your nipples, making you scream and clench around him.

"You love being my filthy bunny, don't you? Always so so good to me, letting me do whatever I wanna do to you. Would you let me piss on you too? Let me mark you? Your body? Perhaps you'd let me piss inside you too, love. Make you my personal toilet, how does that sound, hm?"

His words was enough to send you into a spiral, pussy clenching around his dick so hard as you squirted, your body convulsing through your orgasm as you cum with a broken moan.

"That's it, bun. Cum for me just like that— god. If only they knew how a good girl like you could be such a dirty piss bunny— oh shit, fuck!"

Minho doesn't stop fucking you until you've been milked through your high, following suit soon after as he cums inside of you, his body hunched over yours in a mating press, heavy balls pulsing with every spurt of his seed.

He thinks that this is probably the best video the two of you have ever filmed.

puppy seungmin or bunny changbinnnnn brainrot pleaseeeeeee asdfghjkl

bunny!changbin would be so so cute :(( his soft fluffy tail and ears, his cute little nose scrunching up every time you deny his orgasm. big brown eyes rimmed with tears and voice already hoarse from begging, "please, imma be a good boy for you, 'm your good bunny," wet sniffles turning into moans of pleasure when you finally let him cum. hot, thick ropes spilling all over his tummy, his frustrated cries when he sees the wasted mess turning into high-pitched whines as you sink down on his aching cock. the overstimulation hurts, but he wants to breed you so bad, and he said he'll be good for you... so he lets you use him to get off and milk his cock for hours, making good use of that rabbit stamina :))

Songfic "Healing" Cap 0._ Sour

¡Hola! Espero que conozcáis al grupo 'The Rose', ya que cada uno de los capítulos llevarán una canción de ellos, no solo en el nombre, sino en el propio texto.

Es la primera vez que publico en Tumblr algo mío, así que siento como si me lanzase al vacío... :) ¡Sed buenos conmigo, por favor!

¿Qué pasaría si tras meses y meses, pudieses escuchar la voz de la persona que más amas y a la que perdiste?

'Healing' tendrá 4 partes (5 con esta introducción 0) y cada una tendrá unos warnings diferentes, ¿ok?

Espero vuestras indicaciones, consejos, críticas,... <3

Género: #angst #fluff

Warnings: Algo de tristeza, no os voy a mentir.

Notas: Esta obra es de mi propiedad, pero no las terceras personas que puedan salir en ella; únicamente sirven como inspiración para unos personajes, por lo que nada tiene que ver ni su comportamiento ni historia con su realidad. Disfrutadla.

Canción a escuchar:

La primera vez que lo vi. ¡Oh, la primera vez que lo vi!

Creía que lo había olvidado y casi puedo tocar el recuerdo con los dedos. Él estaba allí delante, mirando a la nada, justo a un punto tras mi cabeza. Sus ojos no se enfocaban en los míos pero la trayectoria era clara. Nunca he vuelto a sentirme tan desnuda frente a un extraño.

— Ey, ¿estás aquí?—las manos de mi amiga, aleteando ante mi cara desintegran la sensación.

Chasqueo la lengua— ¡Lástima!

— ¿Qué? ¿Qué pasa?

— Agrio, era tan agrio— susurro, pasando la punta de mi lengua por detrás de mis dientes delanteros. Casi puedo sentirlo. Casi.

Cierro los ojos con fuerza y los abro. Los grandes iris marrones de mi amiga me miran llenos de comprensión.

— Ah— solo esa interjección podría sonar a poco, no obstante es un “Estás pensado de nuevo en él” resumido en apenas un suspiro— ¿Quieres hablar?

Mi cuello desea hacer un movimiento de arriba abajo, pero estoy negando a la derecha antes de procesarlo. —No, está bien. No pasa nada— lo digo de corrido, de la misma manera automática en la que lo llevo repitiendo desde hace ocho meses… ¿O acaso ya son nueve? Estamos en el principio del verano, las hojas eran rojas cuando me acarició por última vez.

— Sabes que estoy aquí, ¿sí?—asiento, volviendo al Madrid de las cigarras. —Y que voy a respetar si quieres o no contarme, ¿verdad?—asiento de nuevo, — y que, normalmente, no insistiría en…

— Lo sé. —sonrío con calma— En serio, lo sé. Gracias— me mojo los labios e inhalo por la nariz. —No quiero empezar a hablar y que eso me saque de nuevo de la realidad.

— Pero, cariño, ya lo estás haciendo. —entrecierro los ojos—Ahí—su dedo índice me toca entre las cejas. —Llevas viviendo ahí desde que volvimos.--Su sonrisa. No puedo describirla como triste, es nostálgica. Alguien que extraña una parte de un ser querido que ya no está.—Es como si— se ríe— No me entiendas mal, ¿vale?—le sonrío de vuelta y la animo a seguir— Es como si realmente nunca hubieses subido a ese avión conmigo. Como si te hubieses quedado permanentemente en aquella puerta de embarque.

— La 145.

— La 145— repite.

Caminamos en silencio un tiempo, disfrutando de la compañía de la otra sin incomodidad. A menudo bromeo en que si no nos gustasen los hombres, sería mi primera opción. Posiblemente nadie me conozca como ella y, posiblemente, a nadie más le permita… ¡Oh!

—Lo siento. —su cabeza se ladea hacia mí con un por qué pintando en sus facciones. —Esos caramelos de manzana verde que tanto te gustan— trago grueso—Es una tontería, lo sé—vuelvo a intentar pasar un nudo invisible y frunzo los labios.

—No es necesario…

— Así sabía siempre—siento la presión tras los ojos.-- ¡Dios! Me da tanta rabia, ¿sabes? Me gustaría poder decir que guardo un bonito recuerdo y, que no pasa nada. Que realmente no pasa nada—ya está, empiezo a ver borroso y su mano me agarra del codo— No soy capaz de recordar que desayuné ayer, pero…—no puedo caminar más y ambas nos apoyamos en la pared de ladrillos de la entrada del parque— Pero ese agrio y dulce aún me pica en la punta de la lengua.

Sour candy in your mouth Thought I was sweet But then you spit me out I was so down to call you my crown Then you fell out and now

— ¿Mejor?—asiento, bebiendo otro trago de agua de la botella. —También he comprado cerveza, chocolate, aceitunas y estas patatas súper picantes que no había visto en mi vida.

— Conversación larga: starter pack— bromeo, haciéndole un hueco a la bolsa frente a nosotras con cuidado de que con la inclinación no acabe en el lago.

— No hace falta. Lo sabes, ¿verdad?

Nos quedamos en silencio un rato, abriendo bolsas y comiendo mientras observamos el ir y venir de la gente.

— Parece mentira que el tiempo siga corriendo, que la vida siga adelante, todo está en movimiento como si nada hubiese cambiado y yo— respiro y agarro algo de la hierba entre mis piernas— Yo sigo estancada—el frescor de la tierra en los dedos me da un poco más de empaque para poder mirarla directamente. Tanta comprensión, tantas ganas de ayudar, —aterrorizada por seguir adelante y olvidarlo todo.

Su mano cubre la mía— Perdona, sé que están frías.

—Está bien.

Un trago a la bebida y un pequeño pellizco en la mano— ¿Y si lo miras de otra manera?

— ¿Cómo?—pregunto realmente interesada aunque con pocas esperanzas de tener una salida diferente a las millones que he ido representando en mi cabeza noche tras noche.

— Y si lo compartes conmigo, y así; si olvidas algo, — esa sonrisa calmada dibujada en sus ojos— yo te lo recordaré.

My heart's so sour without you My heart's so sour without you My heart's so sour without you My heart's so sour without you

— Creo que es hora de irse de aquí. Está muy oscuro y hace frío—me levanto con dificultad, con los miembros entumecidos de todas las horas sentadas en la pradera.

Ella sigue mirando al lago, mientras alguna lágrima traicionera corre por sus mejillas hacia los brazos que descansan en sus rodillas flexionadas. —Parece mentira que estuviese allí contigo y me perdiese tantas cosas— dice mientras se limpia con la manga de su rebeca. — ¿Cómo no me di cuenta de nada?

La sonrío. Me siento extraordinariamente ligera y, después de mucho tiempo, fuerte. Le ofrezco mi mano y la agarra sin dudar, irguiéndose con algo más de gracia que yo. De ambas, ella es la más atlética y…

— Cuando le conocimos creía que iba a ir por ti sin dudarlo— ahora es más sencillo hablar, las lágrimas se han gastado tras horas de flujo libre— Un “deportista” jamás se fijaría en una “patata” como yo, no tiene lógica—río, sacudiéndole briznas de hierba de sus pantalones.

— Eso no tiene nada que ver, nena. Hay veces que simplemente algo o alguien te gustan, sin tener una razón.

—Ya— y por primera vez no lo niego, no digo “bueno, fue suerte” o, “quizás no se dio cuenta”. No entierro algo bonito en una cadena de excusas.

— Además, creo que él pudo pensar igual, ¿no?—la luz de la farola ilumina únicamente la mitad de su cara, pero entreveo un cambio en su rostro.-- ¿Cómo alguien tan increíble como ella se fijaría en mí?

— ¡Ay, chiqui!—la abrazo con fuerza. —Gracias por aguantarme.

— Yo no te aguanto. Las “esposas” no se aguantan, están para lo bueno y lo malo.

— La salud y la enfermedad. ¿Hasta que la muerte nos separe?

— Y después, también.

When the teardrops touch my mouth I taste the bitterness like you Got me speechless and it stung my tongue I'll never get over you Every day, I'll wonder what you're like When you touch my lips

— ¿Te acordarás de avisarme cuando llegues a casa?

— Lo intentaré, pero quizás llego algo tarde.

— Ok—me guiña un ojo— Sabes que nunca me acuesto temprano.

— Ya, ya. ¿Cuántas tienes pendiente hoy?

— Seis, ¿te lo puedes creer? Necesito otra vida para ir a trabajar y así, quedarme viéndome todos los capítulos.

Nos reímos y nos abrazamos, no sin antes prometerle que de verdad la avisaré al llegar. Antes de perder de vista su portal, saco los cascos y pongo algo de música para llegar a la parada de metro.

Continúo sintiendo la viveza, como si de repente hubiese perdido todo el aire contenido y ahora estuviese respirando de nuevo.

“15 minutos para el próximo metro”.

Me siento en el último sitio disponible en el andén y saco el móvil para avisar a mi amiga de que llegaré algo más tarde de lo esperado.

¿Quieres quedarte en mi casa? Sabes que en mi cama entramos las dos J

Gracias, pero aunque es tentador, hoy prefiero volver a casa.

Lo entiendo, pero avísame cuando llegues, por favor.

Ok.

Las canciones saltan de ritmo, género e idioma. Mis selecciones esquizofrénicas que se han hecho tan famosas entre mis amigos.

— ¿Es imposible que puedas reconocer todas los temas con solo dos segundos?

Abro los ojos sorprendida y me quito uno de los auriculares, aun siendo plenamente consciente de que es imposible que sea él. ‘Sour’ de The Rose sigue sonando en mi oído derecho, entremezclada ahora con el ronroneo de las máquinas de ventilación de la estación.

— ¿Qué me das si lo hago?—murmuro, repitiendo palabras pasadas, ganándome la mirada de extrañeza de la señora sentada a mi lado.

— ¿Qué querrías?

Sé que no está. Sé que no es humanamente posible y, sin embargo, su voz está resonando en mis oídos dejando en segundo plano a la de los cantantes del grupo coreano.

En aquel momento contesté con un infantil << ¿Qué me ofreces?>> un tonto intento de ligoteo entre chupitos de soju y sake pero, ahora…

I'll never know how sweet you taste I let you go and slip away I know it hurts, but it's the truth My heart's so sour without you

— Volverte a ver.

________________________________

⏤ peaches and cream ࣪ ⤹

after a solo mission goes awry, bang chan finds you and patches you up. you offer him to stay the night under the guise of poor weather, but when things escalate you can’t help but admit you’ve wanted him an unhealthy amount.

꒰ bang chan + fem!reader ⏤ 6.7k words ꒱ oneshot

༄ content info & warnings !! coworkers/friends to lovers. secret agent au. nsfw ; light angst, smut, & fluff ⋆ profanity. mentions of suicide & depictions of suicide ideation. depictions of a stab wound and blood. explicit sexual content [unprotected sex ; oral (f rec.) ; multiple orgasms ; overstimulation ; squirting ; rough sex ; breeding kink ; creampie]. aftercare & cuddles.

✉️𓂃 ࣪˖ this fic contains sensitive topics; please take care of yourselves! unedited as of 8/5. first time writing proper smut so be kind 😓! i also overused commas and probably italics in this one 😭 but anyways, bonus points if anyone can guess what kdrama i reference in the story :3 enjoy!

Labored breaths fill the cramped space of your personal bathroom. You grimace at the small blade that’s firmly lodged into your side, and you plant your palms on the cold countertop to help ground yourself. Your head is throbbing with a migraine and every breath you take blossoms unbearable pain now that your adrenaline has worn off. Fuck, today did not go as planned.

You’d been abruptly called up for a solo recon mission — the higher-ups sent you to a hole-in-the-wall jazz bar with the simple task of observing your target from afar. No contact, just listen and watch. Kim Hongjoong, the leader of the mafia group ATEEZ, wasn’t supposed to know about you being there tonight. But somehow, your position was leaked and his right hand man — Seonghwa, if you remember correctly — ambushed the little booth you were seated at in the corner of the cozy establishment and tried to kill you.

He’d manage to stab the right side of your stomach, thankfully missing any major organs, before you clocked him in the face with the back of your gun and shot his chest. You unfortunately missed his heart, but it allowed you just enough time to flee the bar and scamper back to HQ. You’d rushed to the medical bay, ignoring the frazzled looks of your fellow agents as you rushed past them, but when you got to the bay you belatedly recalled all of the medics were in Venice for the infiltration mission that was going down.

Fuck, why don’t they just keep one professional doctor around? Just one would be fucking sufficient. Granted, nobody is supposed to be going in the field when this huge infiltration mission is happening, but the company should always be prepared for emergencies. This is bullshit.

You had irritably limped back to your dorm, doing your best to stifle the pained noises that threatened to slip from your lips as you rode the elevator up. Every step you took down the hallway sent excruciating sparks of pain shooting up your side and it was torture to walk what seemed so fucking far when in reality was only twelve feet at most.

When you finally made it back to your room, you immediately locked the door and slumped against it, taking a moment to regain your breath as hot tears clouded your vision. It felt like hell ever since the adrenaline worn off, but you had to stay composed in public.

Which leads you to where you are now: frowning in your uncomfortably monotone bathroom at the wound in your torso as you contemplate on how to take it out. You’re inclined to just rip it out and quickly applying pressure to quell the bleeding, but it’ll hurt like a bitch and you don’t quite trust yourself enough to follow through. What if, in your moment of weakness, misery tightens its grip on you and you decide don’t want to do this anymore, and let yourself bleed out?

It’s been years since you’ve truly contemplated suicide. Nowadays, you don’t find the urge to actively die, though if death found you again you’d certainly welcome it warmly with open arms. You aren’t compelled to make an effort to live, not really — this lifestyle is merciless on both the body and the mind, and you find your days riddled with exhaustion and anguish more often than not.

You feel alone. Alone and tormented with the pulsing pain from the stab wound, the bruising on your arms, the lack of human companionship. You miss the few friends you had before you were roped into this job, miss the bustling streets of your hometown.

You’re abruptly dragged from your internal wallowing when you hear your front door click open then shut, and the new person fiddles with the lock for a moment before that clicks too. Fuck, did you make plans for tonight with someone? You try to think back, but your mind is too clouded with weariness to properly remember.

“Who is it?” you call out, pushing off the counter to turn and crack open your bathroom door. The faint crinkling of a plastic bag reaches your ears as you use the dark wood as a shield, only peeking your head out to try and see who it is. Only a few people know the code to your quarters, and you were close with them, so you weren’t too worried.

You were more worried about flashing them with an unsolicited view of your body. The moment you’d gotten to your bathroom, you’d stripped down to just your company-regulated black undergarments in hopes of preventing more blood staining your already limited selection of clothes.

Although you’ve changed in front of your coworkers during past missions, it was purely out of necessity. You don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable off-field, even if it is your home and they’re just visitors within it. You glance down at the rumpled clothes that litter your otherwise pristine tiled flooring, and sigh. It’s gonna be a pain to scrub the bloodstains out later.

You hear footsteps trodding through your kitchen and the wrinkling of the bag comes to a stop. It’s silent for a moment before you clear your throat and call out again as you helplessly look into your living room. The angle doesn’t allow you to see much further without walking out the bathroom. “Um, hello? Who is it?”

“Oh! Sorry — it’s Chan. I was just about to call you, didn’t realize you were home,” he tacks on a nervous chuckle, and you can perfectly envision how he’s probably tugging at his earlobes with a sheepish grin as he speaks. “Did you forget we were having takeout tonight?”

You blink. Fuck, now it’s coming back you. This morning, he had called you with a smile in his voice and you both agreed on eating takeout at your place for dinner — and you were looking forward to it, truly! But then the impromptu recon mission came up, and your mind, now laced with fatigue from this afternoon’s events, completely forgot about your plans. You barely resist the urge to slam your head against the wall in self-reproach.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Chan. The higher-ups gave me a surprise solo mission today and it slipped my mind.” You quickly turn and bend to grab your clothes off the floor so you can dress and meet him in the living room, but the sudden movement enables the knife to lodge itself deeper in your stomach and a yelp tears itself from your throat against your will at the fresh wave of pain. Your knees shake as you slam a palm on the wall to stop yourself from completely crumpling right on your bathroom floor. God, how could you fucking forget?

You hear Chan’s worried voice floating through the air, but you can’t focus on it when your vision narrows to the droplets of blood pooling onto the freezing tiles below you. You wince and move to sit against the wall when you realize Chan’s gently guiding you by your shoulders, calloused hands careful over your bruises. “—you okay? Talk to me, what happened?”

You swallow, throat dry as you try to gather your wits. “Went to a bar for the mission. I had to observe Kim Hongjoong, for… intel or something, they didn’t say much. Another mafia member discovered me there and tried to take me out. He stabbed me, I fucked up his face and shot him, then came back here and went to the med bay but nobody was there. Now I’m here. Dunno how I should take it out.” Chan waits patiently for you to get the words out, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into the flesh of your shoulders as he rests on both knees before you.

“Okay. It’ll be alright, just let me help you, yeah? It’s easier to have someone take care of it.”

You nod, eyes suddenly stinging as you think back to your mother cradling you against her chest when you fell as a little kid. You miss her, miss the comfort of her arms and beating heart so badly it aches more than your physical wounds. Your emotional ones are still scabbing.

Oblivious to your dismal reminiscing, Chan brings you back down to reality when he delicately lifts you from the floor and plops you down on the toilet seat, moving to grab your med kit from the counter. He kicks away your dirty clothes to make room for where he kneels before you, assessing the severity of the injury with a tight-lipped frown.

“It looks kinda deep. When I pull it out, apply as much pressure as possible and then I’ll quickly wrap it. We can clean it later; our priority is to prevent blood loss. You with me?” He taps your knee and you give a firm nod. “Yeah,” you exhale, already preparing for the pain. “Can you talk to me? Just say anything, I need a distraction.”

He smiles, though it looks the farthest thing from happy. His eyes don’t crinkle with glee the way they usually do, but he complies. “Sure. Did you know kangaroos are the most active at night? Baby kangaroos are called joeys. They can be the size of a jellybean when they’re born…” he flits about the small bathroom, gathering different things as he lists off various facts about kangaroos, and your heart squeezes a bit at how endearing he is.

You shove down the strong urge to lean up and kiss this man on his plush lips as he goes to kneel before you again with gauze in his hand, still yammering away about kangaroos. This is absolutely not the time to be thirsting over your unrequited little workplace crush.

“…they can’t hop backwards, which is so silly if you ask me. You know? Like–” you try to listen to the rest of his sentence, you really do, but everything goes a bit fuzzy around the edges when the knife is abruptly dislodged from your gut. You double over with a groan, vision momentarily blurring, but you blearily remember to apply pressure as blood spurts around your fingers and dribbles hot and gross down the lower half of your body.

Chan wastes no time in scooting closer to thoroughly wrap your waist with gauze and wipe away the spilled blood coating your skin. By the time he’s done, your breathing is labored again and deep red is already blooming a considerable amount through the fabric. Your body feels grimy from the residue of the now-erased blood, but at least you can focus on what’s happening around you now.

He sits back on his haunches and nods solemnly at his handiwork. “Great, you did so well. I know you probably feel disgusting and grimy right now, but you need to eat before anything else. I’ll grab you some clothes, wait here.”

And then he’s gone, padding out the bathroom and down the hall to your bedroom to grab you a change of clothes. You gingerly rise from your seat on the toilet lid and step over to the sink to wash your hands and splash your face. Chan returns a moment later, passing a handful of neatly folded clothes into your hands, before stepping out and shutting the door behind him.

You carefully slip into the new clothes before regarding yourself in the mirror once more. You’ve donned one of your old black shirts that drapes a bit loosely over your frame, some worn black sweatpants, and black socks to match. Of course he’d pick an all-black outfit, you think with an affectionate eye roll. He really is himself, through and through.

You fix your hair a bit then pad out of the bathroom to find Chan already seated comfortably in his usual spot on your couch, cradling a warm oyster pail of lo mein close to his chest as he stuffs his face and watches a K-drama on your TV. You settle onto the cushion beside him and rifle through the plastic bag on your coffee table to pull out your own box of lo mein and dig in.

You watch the drama together in a comfortable silence, and from what you’ve gathered of the plot so far, a K-pop fan in her 30s has gone back in time through a wristwatch to try and change the trajectory of her favorite idol’s future, and in turn, save him from his suicide of societal pressures. It’s interesting, actually — but the love triangle is driving you crazy.

“This is why I never watch romance shows!” You point indignantly at the TV, like the actors portraying the high school characters could hear you if you projected your voice loud enough. Chan observes you with an amused smile playing at his lips, though he says nothing as you launch into a heated rant about the dynamics of love triangles and how the second lead was always a good guy but left for the wolves. You even get up to pace and rub your temple, ignoring the stitch in your side as you walk back and forth behind the couch.

Chan ignores the drama in favor of twisting his body to lean back and watch you stress over this silly little show. You cut yourself off before your rambling goes on all night, and rub the bridge of your nose with a deep sigh. “I’ll be back,” you murmur, stomping off to the kitchen to grab something for dessert.

You slink back onto the couch a few minutes later with a half-empty tub of peach-flavored ice cream. You hand Chan a spoon and he quirks a brow at the flavor as you place the tub between the two of you. He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it with a playful head shake. “A friend got me this, I didn’t pick it.” He just giggles in response and you both take turns scooping bites as you both refocus on the show.

You’re not sure how much time passes when you see Chan lick his spoon clean and set it on the coffee table, leaning back into the cushions after and yawning. You blink and turn to look at the time on your stove: 12 a.m?!

“Hey, Chan, when did you come over?” You inquire, capping the tub of ice cream and licking your spoon clean as well. You rise off the couch and pad back into the kitchen to put it away again — really, how was there still ice cream left? These tubs seem like they last forever…

“Hm? Oh, like… around seven, I think? Why?” His voice rumbles through the air, nearly getting drowned out by the drama still playing. “It’s late. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you for so long,” you sigh, cocking your hip and resting it against the counter of your kitchen island as you stare at the back of his curls.

He whips around, and his expression looks so adorably bewildered you want to bite the apples of his cheeks and crush him in a warm embrace. “What? No, I enjoy being here! Don’t apologize,” he scoffs, looking mildly offended at the prospect of you thinking he didn’t enjoy one second of his time with you. “I stayed because I wanted to. Besides, you’re injured and nobody likes to be alone after bad missions.” You snort at his eagerness and opt to grab your phone off the kitchen table in lieu of replying, pulling open the weather app.

“Oh,” you frown at the screen. “It’s raining right now? Hold on, pause the show.”

His head tips a bit in question but heeds your request regardless. Sure enough, the telltale pitter-patter of rain can be heard when a gust of wind blows and slams the droplets against the side of your building, hard. Well damn, how did you not notice the torrential downpour outside?

You bite your lower lip, contemplating. Neither of you have an umbrella on hand and cab services certainly aren’t running at this hour, especially in such bad weather conditions. “It’s raining hard, dude. I don’t want you to walk back to your district in the rain — you’ll get sick. Are you alright with spending the night?”

A hesitant smile tugs at Chan’s lip and one of his large palms move to awkwardly rub at the back of his neck. “Of course, but only if it’s fine with you. I don’t want to impose, and I’ll be alright if I have to brave some rain,” he says, already rising from the couch to meet you in the kitchen.

You shake your head, moving to grab the remote from the couch and turn off the TV. “Don’t be stupid. It’s no problem: I wouldn’t make you leave, especially after you helped me earlier.”

He hums in quiet agreement and you suddenly feel a wave of exhaustion crash over your mind. You yawn, rubbing your eyes as they start to burn with sleepiness. “I don’t have a spare room. You good with sharing a bed? I won’t try anything, promise.”

He blinks. “Oh, I can just take the couch.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. This man always has to be so damn respectful. “No, your neck will be fucked up in the morning. You can’t fit comfortably on it, dumbass. Just sleep with me it’ll be fi— wait, not like that.”

Chan giggles at you but gives in and you wander down the hallway with him on your heels. You flick on the light of your bedroom and pause near your bed, eyeing him up and down. “No outside clothes on the bed. You want something to wear? I can’t stand denim on my sheets.”

Without waiting for a response, you slide over to your dresser and rifle for something large enough to comfortably fit your friend. He’s awkwardly glancing around your room when you turn back with fresh clothes in hand, and you bite back a giggle at how he dazedly admires the little trinkets you’ve collected over the years.

“Sweatpants and a shirt are gonna have to work, sorry.”

He takes it from your hands carefully and shakes his head. “Thank you, you really didn’t have to do this—”

“God, just shut up and go get changed.”

He obligingly heads out to the bathroom and in his absence you also change into gray sleep shorts and a black tank, foregoing your bra because you always find it horribly difficult to sleep with it on. You just have to pray Chan doesn’t notice and get uncomfortable with you.

You slink onto your bed, crawling over the duvet to wiggle under the covers. Your bed is placed before the center of your wall, so you choose to lay on the left side of your bed. This will allow you to keep your back to him and not jostle your wound, which is on the right side of your body.

You’re tucked under the covers, lying on your back and mindlessly scrolling through your Instagram feed, when Chan steps through the door, old clothes in hand.

You look up and nearly start drooling. He looks so unbelievably good in your clothes that your eye threatens to twitch. The gray sweatpants you lent fit him perfectly, deliciously outlining his print and giving you an even better view of his ass. You discover just how wonderfully the fabric stretches over the curve of his absolute dumptruck when he turns to set his clothes on an empty portion of your desk, patting it twice in a reassuring way.

And don’t even get you started on the way your ratty black shirt is a bit tight on his upper body, gloriously framing his pecs and huge biceps. It’s definitely going to be stretched out by the time he’s done with it. You hope your gulp isn’t too audible in the quiet of your room.

He doesn’t seem to notice your inner horny turmoil when he flips off the light in silence, tugs off his socks and adds it to the pile, then moves to slip under the covers beside you. His movements are definitely a bit tentative, almost like he doesn’t want you two to brush skin, but you don’t mind.

The rain is still relentless in its assault against your building: there is absolutely no chance it’ll clear up enough before morning for him to safely get back to his quarters. You turn off your phone and plug it up to your charger, setting it on your nightstand with an alarm hopefully set for tomorrow morning. If it isn’t, then that’s a problem for your future-self.

When Chan finally finishes settling a moment after you and the room is overall dark — save for your little standing lamp in the corner that casts a cozy dim glow over the space — you realize just how much warmth Chan radiates.

Your bed isn’t even small: it’s a queen. There’s a comfortable amount of space between the two of you, a silent agreement to stay as far apart as your situation allows, yet he’s still so warm beside you. The covers quickly become toasty with combined body heat and you flip onto your side, back towards Chan, as you tug your arms out from under your comforter in an attempt to dispel the warmth and cool yourself down.

You hear the light shuffling of fabric behind you and assume Chan does the same. You start to wonder if maybe you are the one overstepping in this situation, as he kind of did seem uncomfortable when you kept insisting it’s okay for him to be here, for him to share a bed with you.

Your brain is about to start overthinking when you feel the gentle lull of sleep calling your name, tugging your weary mind down into the comfortable nothingness labeled as rest. Before you even realize it, you’re out like a light and breathing steadily into the mellow embrace of your bed as your mind carefully coaxes you into your dreams.

⟢

When you wake, the first thing you register is the searing heat.

Your body is absolutely boiling with warmth. Which you find odd, because your room usually stays cold and you hate the heat.

You’ve never been one to favor summertime over the winter: you always welcome the crisp wind of winter with a grin behind your scarf, hands tucked happily into your pockets as you cherish the cold. The stench of other people becomes less apparent during the wintertime. Bugs crawl back to their origins in Hell to hide from the frigid temperatures. It’s so pleasant.

Whereas during summer, you always end up glaring bitterly at the squiggly heatwaves that seem to taunt you from afar. Beads of sweat run down your face every time you dare to step outside and mosquitos ravish your exposed limbs, leaving you an itchy mess when you finally retreat back to the cover of a building. Your occupation doesn’t allow much time off, either, so you rarely find a day to visit the beach or relax at a pool. Who would enjoy such a torturous season?

You blearily crack your eyes open and lift your head, trying to discern with fuzzy vision the cause of your absurd body temperature. That’s when you register your covers are kicked down to the crease of your knees, and another body is pressed intimately against yours from behind. A solid arm is strewn over your hip and, to your horror, something of notable size and firmness is also pressing into your backside. You bite your lip to stifle a gasp as you come to the very evident conclusion Chan is spooning you from behind. While sporting a boner. Fuck.

Instead of slamming your head back down on your pillow at the shock of this predicament, you delicately lower your cheek against it and resist the urge to scream as to not wake the man behind you. His hips are comfortably cradling your ass, and you gulp. It’s fine, this is so fine! People move around in their sleep. Boners are just a normal bodily function. Happens to the best of us, even. If you just ignore it and go back to sleep, you can wake up in the morning and pretend it never even happened. All will be swell.

But of course, just as you’re about to close your eyes and try to drift off again, the hand tightens its grip around your waist ever so slightly and kneads once at the soft flesh of your hip. The universe sure does hate you and loves to see you suffer, huh.

Chan mumbles something sleepily against the dip between your shoulder blades before his hips softly grind into your rear once. A whimper spills out your lips against your will and the body plastered against your back suddenly goes stiff as a board. Your eyes snap open and your joints instinctively lock up in response, too.

There’s a beat of silence, sans the sound of your quiet shared breaths puffing in and out, before Chan swiftly detaches himself and rolls back to his side of the bed with a pained groan. “Fuck— I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

He sits up, still stuttering out an apology as he moves to swing his legs over the side of your bed. You spring up from your spot with so much fervency you half expect your spine to pop. Without a second thought, you grab his bicep and squeeze, urging him to turn back to you. His head whips around and he ogles you with wide eyes when he hears you mumble something he never once expected to hear. You miss his shocked expression as your eyes are downturned to study the sheets. Wow, were they always this shade of white? How pretty.

“Say that again,” he murmurs, somehow sounding breathless though he hasn’t moved an inch from his spot on the edge of your mattress as far as you can tell. You don’t know if it’s the sleepy haze blanketing your brain that gives you the confidence to repeat yourself, but if this is your only chance to get with the man of your dreams then you’re going to fucking take it, heedless of the possible humiliation and consequences this could cause.

You swallow, still refusing to meet his eyes. Your hand releases its deathgrip on his arm, dropping down to play with your sheets. You clear your throat, somehow managing to say the sentence that would make or break your relationship with Chan again in a stable voice. “I said, can I kiss you?”

It’s like something snaps between the two of you. He tugs your body toward his with a groan, wasting no time in crashing his plump lips against yours. You gasp and he bites down on your bottom lip, and you begin to kiss back with equal, if not more, passion. He gently guides you to lay back so your head is situated comfortably on your pillow, mindful of your fresh injury as he does, and you practically turn into putty in his hands as you let him move you like second nature.

He pulls away from your mouth, a string of spit connecting the two of you as you both pant and stare at each other. His pupils are blown, and a glance down confirms your suspicions that he’s still rock hard beneath his sweats. If Chan feels big against you when he’s just half hard, then you’re honestly a bit concerned for your pussy when you think about the full package. You drag your eyes back to his face when you realize you’re staring, only to be met with a cocky smirk and a knowing glint in his dark eyes. “You like the view, baby?”

A heat different from the physical kind sparks in the pit of your stomach, and the casual utterance of the pet name quickly kindles the sparks into a low flame. Your cunt begins to pulse with its own heartbeat and you nod eagerly. He chuckles and leans back down to pepper kisses beneath your ear, your jaw, any sliver of skin he can reach. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he mumbles into the divots of your collarbone. “Wanted you.”

Chan punctuates his words with a light nip to your trapezius and you squeak. He shifts his weight onto one arm and lifts a hand to toy with the strap of your tank top, knobby fingers absently plucking at the thin band while he hungrily eyes your expression instead. “Can I take this off? Wanna see all of you.”

You hesitate, a wave of insecurity washing over you at the idea you may not be pretty enough for him, but you quell the negative voice in your head and just pray he’ll appreciate your body. You nod wordlessly, lifting your arms enough for him to tug it over your head and toss it aside.

He sits back, tongue poking at his cheek as he stares at your chest, ears reddening into a pretty shade. You feel embarrassment flush through your skin and move to cover yourself, but he immediately grabs your wrists and pins them above your head. Your cunt flutters around nothing and you feel a drop of wetness pool in your panties. Oh God, how are you going to survive this?

“Don’t hide,” Chan murmurs, voice an octave lower than his usual timbre. He leans down to graze his teeth against a nipple and you jump, arching your chest up with a gasp as you writhe slightly in his hold. “You’re so beautiful, fuck, I can’t believe I get to have this.”

All that falls from your lips are whines when he takes a sensitive bud into his mouth, alternating between suckling and swirling his tongue. He pops off after a moment to give the other side the same attention, his hands tugging at the nipple that’s freshly exposed to the cool air of your room.

He suckles a mark onto the soft skin above your nipple and pulls away to loom over you with heated eyes. You shy away from his gaze and instead tug at the hem of his shirt. “Off, get it off. Not fair how I’m the only one undressed,” you pout.

He chuckles and quickly pulls it over his head before sending it flying across your room. You absently run a hand over his defined abs, a wave of arousal washing over you so roughly that your eyes threaten to roll. “Pants,” you rasp out, almost nonsensically, but he seems to understand.

You both share a moment tugging off the last of your clothes before you’re on each other again like moths to a flame. His hands are careful when they roam your torso, wary of your wound, but his fingers quickly turn merciless again when they find the heat of your core. You cry out when he begins to circle your swollen clit, hole fluttering as it weeps for his attention.

His fingers momentarily dip lower and he groans at the copious amount of slick that greets him. Your cunt makes a lewd squelch when he dips a testing finger inside and you moan as it ventures deeper. “You’re so wet, baby, shit.”

“All for you,” you whine out, twitching with a gasp as he crooks his finger at a certain angle. He grins as he massages that gooey spot deep inside you, looking overly content as he turns you into a babbling mess beneath him.

“Yeah, baby, this cunt’s mine.”

Almost as if proving a point, he leans down a bit to let a fat glob of spit roll off his tongue and land on your clit. Your fingers shoot out to thread through his hair when he promptly leans down and latches his mouth to your pussy, slurping obscenely as he works his tongue over your most sensitive area. He mumbles sloppily into your folds, eyes half-lidded. “God, you taste divine. C’ld stay here and eat this pussy forever…”

He draws two orgasms from you like that, wrenching your thighs back open when they clamp around his head from the first orgasm. He pulls back momentarily to give you a breather, leaning up to kiss you filthily. You moan at the taste of yourself, but just as you reach down to grab his cock he’s already between your legs again and resuming his ministrations.

You kick out at how oversensitive you are, pawing desperately at his forehead to try and halfheartedly push him away. The pain hurts so deliciously good — you don’t want this moment to end.

“‘S too much, Ch’nnie!” You realize tears are streaming down your face when your cunt eagerly clenches around the digits he’s stuffed inside you, thighs quivering on either side of his head, but he knows not to stop despite your broken pleas.

He pulls you over the edge again with swift, hungry licks to your clit and two fingers prodding at your gummy walls, groaning into your dripping heat. Your second orgasm doesn’t simmer in your stomach the way the other did: this time it takes you by surprise and makes you genuinely wail.

Even Chan’s firm grip on your thighs can’t stop the way they cage his head in and squeeze while you cry out, hips bucking off the bed and eyes squeezing shut as you yank on his scalp. Your orgasm seems to last forever, sending you floating in a warm space while stars blooming in the dark of your eyelids. You eventually come down from the high, unlike anything you’ve felt before, with watery eyes and shaky limbs when you realize the absolute that’s mess between your legs and the puddle drenching your sheets. It isn’t rocket science to piece the two together.

Fuck, you just squirted on his face.

You throw an arm over your face in belated embarrassment as you hear the shuffling of sheets. It’s gently pulled away not even a second later and your face burns when you see the wetness glistening on the entire lower half of Chan’s face. He doesn’t bother wiping it before he’s kissing you, and the locking of your lips is rough and full of desire.

He pulls back to knock his forehead against yours, both of you breathing into the close proximity. “Can I put it in, baby? I don’t have a condom, but I can pull out, promise.”

You weakly glare like it’s even a question, body still jittering with an occasional aftershock. Despite coming twice with barely any reprieve, you still feel keyed-up as ever with a dull ache settling between your legs. Yet, you feel so empty. His fingers aren’t enough to satisfy you for the night.

“You just made me come twice from your mouth alone and now you’re asking?” You scoff, your snarky words contrary to how your legs are impatiently spreading further to accommodate him. “I’m on birth control, by the way. So… you, um, don’t have to pull out.”

Something predatory flashes in his eyes, but you blink and it’s gone. A knowing feeling rises in your gut and you suppress a grin. So he has a breeding kink… perfect.

He exhales sharply, but nods as he slips back a bit to wrap your legs around his hips. He scoots forward again and lines himself up, tip prodding at your entrance and you sigh at the pressure. He glances up once more just to double check, and only when you give an aggrieved nod does he finally push in.

You both moan in tandem and Chan scrunches his eyes shut when he bottoms out, leaning forward to softly press the hard planes of his stomach against your bandaged one. “Just one second, baby,” He pants into the crook of your neck. “Too.. too close.”

You giggle and bring a hand to the back of his neck, lazily scratching at the curly wisps that form there while he works to staves off a premature orgasm.

You lay in silence for a moment, your shared sweat starting to cool, before he pushes himself up again and sits back on his knees to push your thighs up to your chest. “You’re so pretty like this, all spread out for me,” Chan sighs, looking down at where the two of you meet. “Let me fuck you properly now, yeah?”

His pace is languid at first, but with every choked out whine that escapes you his thrusts start to come faster, harder. It’s not long before he’s fucking you into the mattress, the bed frame squeaking pathetically.

Your hands desperately clutch your pillow as you lose all ability to think when the front of his thighs slap so harshly into the backs of your own, over and over. With the little coherency you’re able to maintain, you doubt you’ll be able to walk tomorrow.

“Babygirl,” you hear Chan grunt as he somehow manages to thrust even harder. You barely hear him over the lewd squelching of your pussy filling the room. “Look at how well you’re creamin’ over my cock, shit!”

It takes you a moment to register his words. When you do, you crane your neck to stare at where his dick, flushed an angry red, is pistoning relentlessly into your poor, abused pussy.

True to his words, your cum forms a pretty white ring around the base of his cock and you distantly feel drool dribbling out the corners of your mouth when he angles himself to hit that spongy spot inside you.

You cry out, hips bucking until he pins them down with large hands that span soothingly over your hips. The demeanor of that gesture is such a stark difference to how roughly he’s fucking you up the bed and it makes you whimper as you realize he’s fucking you like a toy.

The closer Chan gets, the looser his lips become. He starts babbling nonsense and his words are tailed by an occasional soft whine that makes you clench. It only serves to rile him up further.

You have half the mind to realize you’re the one driving him out of his mind with pleasure, and it’d bring a smile to your face if you weren’t so incoherent at the moment. Nobody else can have him the way you can. Chan’s thrust start to turn from a steady pattern into more erratic movements and he presses your bodies together in a flat line once more, returning to hide in your neck.

“…gonna fuck a baby into you,” you hear him murmur with a groan as his hips snap jerkily. You logistically know this is unlikely, as you’re on birth control and it probably won’t take anyway, but you wrap your arms around his neck and cry out into his ear, “Yes, Chan! Please, please,” you slur. “Need your cum so bad. Need to have your babies, gon’ make you a daddy.”

He fully whines at that. “You want it, huh? Want me to pump you full and breed this fucking cunt?” His hips aren’t even properly thrusting anymore: he’s more or less just frantically humping against you, addicted to the warm and wet heat that envelops him.

“You’ll be such a pretty mama, walkin’ round all glowy with my baby. My fucking baby, yeah—” Then his hips pump deep, once, twice, thrice and his eyes roll back. “Fuck, fuck, take it all, take this dick.”

You gasp brokenly when you feel something warm flood your insides as he pulses within you, and a genuine sob wracks itself from your body when he presses a thumb to your clit, rubbing in quick strokes. You topple over the edge as soon as his hand is on your sensitive nub, and you bite your lip so hard to muffle your scream that you draw blood.

Chan collapses beside you, and the movement pulls his dick free from your cunt with a loud noise that sounds so awkward in the newfound quiet. There’s silence for a second before you lock eyes at the same time and break into euphoric giggles, coming down from the simultaneous high. He tugs you into his arms and you bask in the warm afterglow, sweat cooling on your skin as you both catch your breath.

You eventually find the stickiness between your legs uncomfortable once it all dries. With an apologetic smile, Chan carries you to the shower while you two chat quietly about random topics. He takes off the old gauze from earlier, herds you into the shower to clean you properly, then towel dries you when you two step out.

The mirror is foggy with steam from the water as you fall into another comfortable silence and he reapplies the bandages. It’s so much better than earlier since your wound is properly cleaned now and you’re no longer covered in grime and sweat from a fight.

After you’re both dry and dressed, he deposits you back into the bed with clean sheets and pads off to the kitchen to get a few things. You’re feebly fighting off sleep in the middle of the bed when he returns, and he smiles dopily when he sees your struggle to stay awake.

He climbs into bed and passes you a water bottle, urging you to sit up and drink. With a grumble, you do as told before shimmying back under the comforter and patting the space beside you. “Relax, I’m coming, I’m coming,” he chuckles.

Chan pulls his new shirt off with his sweats, leaving him in just a pair of black boxers when he clambers in next to you. He presses a kiss to your forehead and you sidle into his arms, easily dozing off now that you’re in his comforting embrace.

Your body feels so sated after how he deliciously worked you up and took you apart that it takes you absolutely no time to fall asleep for real. But just before you slip out of consciousness, you feel him press another kiss to your forehead and he sighs into your hair. “I’m so happy, baby. Thank you.”

Before you can reply, your mind is gently tugged under to that familiar realm of nothingness. Though, if he sees the minuscule smile that appears on your lips as an indication you heard him, he doesn’t comment on it when you wake and instead greets you with a loving kiss, morning breath and all.

2024 © nxtt2-u on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

⏤ the moon doesn’t mind masterlist ࣪ ⤹

yang jeongin has never been favored by lady luck. the stars practically write it out for him the night his mother abruptly dies at the ripe age of 15, leaving him borderline catatonic in his grief. when he’s discarded by his village to the deep woods for his notorious hybrid lineage, you discover him on the brink of death and introduce him to a new life. as you go through hardships alongside your new companion, you don’t expect for the simple camaraderie to blossom into something more — however, you’re delightfully proven wrong as the years pass.

꒰ yang jeongin + fem!reader ⏤ wc tbd ꒱ series

༄ series info & warnings !! strangers to lovers. fantasy & anachronistic au; witch!reader, fox hybrid!jeongin. slow burn romance; angst, fluff, & eventual smut ⋆ each chapter may contain sensitive topics & will have their own warnings – read at your own discretion.

✉️𓂃 ࣪˖ reader is described to be 5’8 with long hair and a muscular body. she’s 2 years older than jeongin. there’s no description of her ethnicity, though she goes by the fake name jeong chaewol, meaning ‘peaceful bright moon,’ to hide her identity (rest assured, it’s rarely used).

chapters જ⁀➴ the first chapter is expected to arrive in late september/october. taglist for this series is open.

2024 © nxtt2-u on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

⏤ kinktober ‘24 ࣪ ⤹

꒰ stray kids + fem!reader ⏤ wc tbd ꒱ series

༄ content info & warnings !! nsfw ⋆ each fic is porn with little to no plot: they will all contain their own warnings. read at your own discretion.

✉️𓂃 ࣪˖ hello! i am releasing this m.list early. this is my first ever kinktober; i’ve only wrote smut a handful of times, so i’m taking this as an opportunity to hopefully improve. each prompt may range from 500-5k words. all prompts may not be fulfilled within october, but i look to finish them even after the month ends. every completed prompt will release the day it’s scheduled for at midnight. with all that out the way, i hope you enjoy! feedback is always appreciated.

UPDATE: this series is on an indefinite hiatus due to personal circumstances.

OCT 01. breeding w/ bangchan.

OCT 02. somnophilia w/ minho.

OCT 03. size kink w/ changbin.

OCT 04. dumbification w/ hyunjin.

OCT 05. pegging w/ jisung.

OCT 06. anal w/ felix.

OCT 07. public sex w/ seungmin.

OCT 08. hate sex w/ jeongin.

OCT 09. praise w/ bangchan.

OCT 10. cockwarming w/ minho.

OCT 11. monsterfucking w/ changbin.

OCT 12. bondage w/ hyunjin.

OCT 13. cuckolding w/ jisung.

OCT 14. orgasm denial w/ felix.

OCT 15. pet play w/ seungmin.

OCT 16. overstimulation w/ jeongin.

OCT 17. lactation kink w/ bangchan.

OCT 18. cock cage w/ minho.

OCT 19. free use w/ changbin.

OCT 20. cunnilingus w/ hyunjin.

OCT 21. exhibitionism w/ jisung.

OCT 22. urethral sounding w/ felix.

OCT 23. public sex w/ seungmin.

OCT 24. degradation w/ jeongin.

OCT 25. bukkake w/ 3racha.

OCT 26. breath & pain play w/ vocalracha.

OCT 27. deepthroating w/ danceracha.

OCT 28. gangbang w/ ot8.

OCT 29. size headcanons w/ ot8.

OCT 30. kink headcanons w/ ot8.

OCT 31. tbd w/ tbd — send a request!

taglist: @pochaccomin, @stayconnecteed

2024 © nxtt2-u on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

A Helping Hand (M) ~Seungmin

Pairing: LabHybrid!Seungmin x GN!Reader Themes: Smut | Fluff | Best Friends to Lovers | Roommates to Lovers Word Count: ~4k | AO3 Synopsis: After one too many shots of vodka, your best friend confided in you a little problem he’d been dealing with for a couple of months now. Tipsy-you figured that you were more than suitable to give him a helping hand. Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption · overall hybrid shenanigans · Seungmin has a dirty mouth · pet names · Smut (warnings under the cut). let me know if i missed any💜

Author’s Note: can’t believe my first ever published Seungmin fic is a hybrid au lmao. got a weird boost of inspiration for this after seeing @starlostseungmin talking about it, so here it is ! Special thanks to @notastraykid for giving her very valuable input to improve the first draft, as well as @comet-falls for letting me know it didn’t suck skjdfhsdkjf

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Smut Warnings: this is, as usual, some monsterfuckery · handjobs · praising · breeding kink (kind of) · hybrid anatomy (knot) · copious amounts of fluids. again, let me know if i missed any

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

“You–You don’t have to do this, serious–Oh, God…”

You swallowed, focusing on your best friend’s face. Focusing a bit too much on the vein that popped on his neck when he threw his head back, on how pretty his eyelashes looked when his eyes fluttered shut, on those pouty lips of his you totally didn’t wish you could have on yours… All while trying to ignore what you had between your hands, all while trying to ignore the obscene, squelching sounds their continuous movement produced…

“I said I’d help you, didn’t I, Seungmin?”

Seungmin inhaled deeply. His ears twitched, his tail seemed to have a life of its own, it had started thumping against the headboard of the bed the moment he’d sat down and you’d taken a hold of him.

After opening his eyes again, Seungmin looked at your face, and you saw his Adam’s apple bob when he swallowed. “You did”.

“And I always keep my word, don’t I?” You twisted your wrists, never stopping the motions of your hands.

Seungmin sighed, and some of the tension in his shoulders seemed to evaporate with the motion. “You do…”

A spark of doubt flared in your mind, large enough it was impossible to ignore. Your hands stopped, and the tiniest whine left Seungmin’s mouth. “Unless you… Are you feeling uncomfortable? I can– I can stop”.

Seungmin’s hands flew to your wrists, preventing you from pulling away completely. “No. No, no, please, don’t… I… Fuck, I really want this. I really, really need this”.

You would’ve never expected the afternoon to take you here… To your best friend’s bedroom, to him sitting on his bed, with his back against the headboard, and with his legs spread. You would’ve never expected to have his cock in your hands, barely even out of his lounge shorts. In your mind, this had never been a real, genuine possibility. Yet here you were.

How long had it been since you realised you had a crush on your best friend? Too long, probably. It might’ve been a bit embarrassing, but you truly couldn’t even remember a time when you weren’t pining over him, a time when you weren’t thinking how it would be like to be with him physically, intimately…

Although, to be fair, this situation was far more sterile than all those fantasies you’d allowed your mind to wander into only in the wee hours of the night. It wasn’t as if Seungmin had confessed his feelings for you, or you to him. It was more like… like you were giving your friend a hand–literally and figuratively.

Seungmin was a hybrid. A black labrador hybrid, to be exact. He’d been your best friend since you were a kid, when the school you attended finally started allowing hybrids as students. You could still remember the first day you saw him, standing in a corner by the lockers. You’d approached him, mostly because your mother had taught you that hybrids must be treated well, just like you’d treat anyone else.

He was a shy boy, totally out of character for a lab hybrid, but the more you got to know him, the more he warmed up to you, the more you started to see that bright personality of his. As soon as he’d deemed you trustworthy, it was almost like that shyness had never been there in the first place.

He started to come over to your place to hang out or do homework, to open up about his life, and even to show more of his mischievous side. He’d call you everything from dumb dumb, to human kiddo, to little human, just because he could. But it was fine.

Even if at the beginning it annoyed you that he simply wouldn’t call you by your name, it eventually became such a Seungmin thing to do, you just couldn’t find it in you to be mad at him when his eyes sparkled so brightly whenever he used his little nicknames for you.

Seungmin was chaotic, he was funny, and he was the most loyal friend you’d ever had. He’d been with you through thick and thin. Every broken friendship and relationship, he was always there to console you, to hold your hand and tell you it was going to be alright. He was always there for you, without fail. He’d always joke around and say it was one of his lab traits, but you knew better.

Whether he was a hybrid or not, you knew Seungmin would still be the same Seungmin.

Your Seungmin.

A couple of years ago, you finally got to move out of your parents’ house. It was only natural that you ended up renting a place with your best friend, considering he, too, wanted to move out, and he didn’t particularly enjoy the thought of living with strangers.

Decades had passed since hybrids were integrated into human society. They finally had rights, they were treated as people and not some pet you bought from a store–no disrespect to pets, they had their rights, too. But pets weren’t people. Hybrids, on the other hand, were.

Hybrids had free will, they could reason like humans could, and they certainly deserved to be treated as equals. These were the values that you’d been taught as you grew up, and it was something you believed in still to this day.

Regardless, hybrids still had their animal urges and needs, which Seungmin seemed to have been struggling with for a couple of months now.

The confession happened last night, while you both threw a tennis ball back and forth at each other, after one too many shots of vodka–to be more precise, it’d been three. Three shots of vodka only. 

Alcohol wasn’t deadly toxic to Seungmin like it was to other hybrids, but his body certainly couldn’t digest it very well, which usually manifested not only in the flush that spread all over his face, but also by shutting down every single one of his filters. ‘I haven’t been able to come in two fucking months. Two months! I feel like I’m dying, dude. I just need to blow’.

You’d asked him how that was even possible, how he had not managed to bring himself to orgasm in two months, considering you knew he was a person with a moderate sex drive–based on the amount of times you had to stay in your shared flat while he had company over… His answer was a very graceful ‘The fuck if i know… Nothing works, my dearest little human. Porn doesn’t work. Literature doesn’t work. And my imagination clearly doesn’t work, either’.

He looked genuinely distressed about it, especially when he sighed, and his tone lowered. ‘I’ve been checking forums online… Going anonymous to ask strangers, specifically other hybrids, but most of them said that I needed to find the root cause, that something in my environment could be affecting my physical performance, but it’s… It’s really frustrating, because I genuinely have no idea what’s going on’.

‘Have you tried, I don’t know, getting laid?’ was what your tipsy self asked. You wouldn’t have asked that question fully sober for sure. You really didn’t want to know if Seungmin was out there getting laid these days. It had been a little over a year since you had seen him date anyone, and the thought of him dating someone now, admittedly, made you jealous. Which was potentially very stupid on your part considering you were just friends. The best of friends. Only friends.

‘Nah. Can you imagine if I’m with someone and I can’t fucking come? Distress… Besides, I don’t want to just… You know, do it with a random person. People are kinda… ew’. You could understand completely why he wouldn’t want to go out and hook up with a stranger. After all, some people still saw hybrids as sex slaves, or they were heavily fetishised, so it wasn’t exactly safe to partake in one night stands for him. 

Besides, your best friend was not one for hookups and one night stands in the first place. He had trust issues, especially with humans, so you could definitely understand his predicament. 

‘What if it’s someone you know?’ You threw the ball back at him just as you’d boldly asked the question, because spirits always made you voice things sober you would never have the guts to say.

Seungmin caught the ball and scoffed, completely sure that no one he knew would want to be that intimate with him, and not think ill of him if he didn’t manage to perform. 

But you had to open your big mouth again, very confidently telling him ‘And what about me? I can do it’.

The ball suddenly fell from Seungmin’s hand, landing on the floor and rolling under the coffee table. His eyes followed the movement like a hawk–or, maybe it’d be more accurate to say like a dog. He stretched his body a bit out of the sofa, not even bothering to stand up fully, trying to get the ball while he chuckled, maybe a bit nervously.

Seungmin genuinely thought you were joking for a second. That was exactly what he’d told you, but then he saw how serious you were about it, and, after a few minutes of silence, he simply said that you should have this conversation sober.

Which you did.

Which took you right here, right into his room, with his painfully hard cock in your hands.

Seungmin knew you wouldn’t judge him if he couldn’t come. He trusted you enough to be vulnerable with you in more ways than one, to tell you what he needed or wanted, so you would gladly help him–the fact that you had a major crush on him made you feel a bit self-conscious, you’d admit… Like you were taking advantage of the situation to touch him this intimately. But you had already offered it, and he had already accepted it, so you just didn’t feel like backing down on your word.

“Tighten your grip a bit more”, Seungmin mumbled, and once again he threw his head back when you did as asked and continued working his cock. “Fuck, yeah. That’s it…”

You were starting to heat up yourself. Especially whenever he spoke like that, with the tone of his voice as low as it was. Seungmin was one to swear a lot, very openly, but in this context, it certainly felt… filthier. And it affected you. Maybe embarrassingly so…

You couldn’t help but swear under your breath when your eyes drifted from his face to his length. How could you not look? When he was there, letting you touch him…

Clear fluid leaked from his tip, dripping all over your fingers and aiding your movement, intensifying those sinful wet sounds that resonated in your ears with each stroke. You knew his specific breed tended to produce more fluids than a human would, he’d told you this before in passing, but you had honestly not expected it to be this much.

Seungmin didn’t seem fazed at his slick soiling his clothes. On the contrary, it seemed like he didn’t even care at all.

“Like what you see?”

Your head snapped upwards to meet his eyes, and you immediately felt heat rush to your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry, I’m trying really hard not to look, but…” You suddenly felt small under his gaze, even if your hands didn’t stop. His eyes were so dark, staring right into yours so intensely the hairs at your nape stood on end.

Seungmin always tried not to look people in the eyes, ‘It activates this primal instinct in me, it’s a bit annoying sometimes, to be honest. I only make eye contact when… when I… Well, you know…’ He’d said once, very vaguely, but even back then, you understood. 

He didn’t need to tell you in which situation he enjoyed eye contact. Whenever you looked him in the eyes, you always felt trapped under his gaze, like you wanted to submit. And, somehow, it also woke the butterflies in your belly. Right now, that feeling seemed to have heightened tenfold.

“You’re trying not to look, but…?” Seungmin licked his lips, reaching forward to take a hold of your forearm. Not to stop you, but simply to drag his thumb over your skin in soothing motions.

“But…” You swallowed. You figured now was as good a time as any to let the thoughts out of your head, otherwise they would haunt you forever. “You’re so big”.

Seungmin giggled, a sound that he hardly ever let anyone outside of his close friend group hear, the flush on his face deepened, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. Adorable, even in this context… “You think I’m big?”

“Haven’t touched someone this big ever”, your pace was still slow, but you made sure to stroke as much of him as you could, as tight as he had asked you to. It wasn’t like he was crazy big, he wasn’t particularly long, but he was just… girthy. Girthier than you had ever seen in your pathetic excuse for a love life. “Not only that, but… It’s just… pretty”.

At that, Seungmin looked genuinely incredulous. “Pretty?”

“Mm… pretty”.

He was going to speak, but before he could, your movements sped up, and the whine that left his mouth as soon as you did had your insides instantly firing up. It was a completely involuntary reaction, how could your body not react when the sounds coming out of his mouth were this sinful? When the almost canine whines stirred the butterflies flying freely in your belly?

“Oh, fuck… That’s it, baby, just like that, shit…”

You didn’t even acknowledge the pet name that just escaped his lips. You were convinced it was a heat of the moment thing, so you swallowed that saliva that had suddenly pooled in your mouth, and continued to focus on your motions. 

With both of your hands, you went from the base to the head a few times, until you settled one of your hands at the base and the other at the tip. You had heard that the base of a canine hybrid’s cock was sensitive, not as much as the head, but much more than a human’s would be, and Seungmin’s wagging tail and content sighs proved that to be true.

You made sure to pull the foreskin with you when you pumped his head, and your eyes naturally drifted to the sight again. Pretty, indeed…

“You’re so fucking good at this, fuck…” Seungmin’s head was tilted back against the headboard, but he was still looking at you through his lashes. His chest rose and fell with his laboured breathing, he was essentially panting, his tongue poked out from between his lips, and the movement of his thumb on your forearm had long since stopped. He was now just gripping your arm, lightly digging his fingers on your skin.

“You think so?” You couldn’t help but ask.

Maybe it was a bit selfish, but you definitely wanted to hear more of his praise. It fed a pool of arousal in the pit of your stomach that you just knew you’d have to deal with as soon as you were on your own and away from his prying eyes…

“Fuck, yeah… You’re so good to me, so…” His words trailed off, stopped when he swallowed thickly. 

You wanted him to continue what he was going to say, you almost asked him to, but before you could, he spoke again–with an edge of desperation in his voice that almost made you faint.

“Squeeze a bit harder at the base”, so you did, twisting your wrist as you went up and down, and the loud moan that fell from his mouth made you dizzy with need. “That’s it, keep doing that, fuck…”

You worked his cock for a while, all as words of appreciation continued to fly past his lips, all as his slick kept dripping all over your fingers, as he directed more pet names your way. Until something started to feel different…

“Oh, oh, fuck… Fuck, shit, don’t stop, baby, please, don’t…”

You wouldn’t have dared stop, not when your fingers suddenly weren’t able to touch where you held him. You kept the motions on the head of his cock, but the base seemed to be swelling under your grasp, loosening it a bit.

“No, no, don’t stop there. Squeeze it. Keep touching it, pup”, Seungmin pleaded, tightening his grip on your arm while small whines escaped his throat, almost drowned by the sound of his tail thumping against the headboard.

“Oh, my God…” You knew hybrids were anatomically different to humans, but you had never really considered just how much they could be, so it really took you by surprise.

You were experiencing one of Seungmin’s hybrid attributes first hand. There, at the base of his cock, a knot was quickly swelling, and you would’ve never expected how much the sight and feel of it could affect you. Your mind raced, suddenly curious as to how it would feel like if he were pushing his cock into your warmth, how he would stretch you out to your absolute limits…

Seungmin might’ve been the hybrid here, but you were certainly salivating at the feel of his swollen knot in your hands.

Tightening your grip around his knot, you started massaging it, just as you pumped his head faster, coaxing a string of groans and moans and swears to come out of Seungmin’s mouth.

“Your hands… They’re so soft, so… perfect. That’s perfect, pup, you’re doing so fucking well”.

Seungmin was talking to you like you weren’t the one working him up. It would’ve amused you, had it not been feeding the fire that was burning bright deep within yourself.

You could feel your underwear sticking to your skin, drenched in your own fluids because of Seungmin, and the sounds he was making, and his heavy cock under your hands, and that fucking knot of his…

“Seungmin… Shit, you… This…” Being honest, you were speechless. 

“What? Huh?” Seungmin finally let go of your arm, instead he cupped your cheek, making you look at him, just as he started to thrust up into your fists. “I know what you want to tell me. Or, at least, I think I do, fuck… I can hear how fast your heart is beating, pup. I can smell it all, you know? I wanna know what you’re thinking. Tell me”.

You licked your lips, staring into his eyes. You were sure your face couldn’t be any warmer, yet the heat seemed to spread further the longer you looked at him, the faster you moved your hands and he thrusted into your grip.

“I’m… Fuck, I can’t help but think how it would feel like inside me, stretching me open…”

“Oh, shit–” Seungmin threw his head back. His tail thrashed against the headboard, and his ears were twitching nonstop. “I can–Fuck, baby, I can give it to you. Whatever you want, just say it and I’ll give it to you”.

With your lower lip trapped between your teeth, you took in a deep breath, almost shivering when Seungmin pulled his shirt up to reveal his torso just as he mumbled the most desperate “Close, so fucking close, puppy. Don’t you dare fucking stop. Tell me–tell me more…”

“I want… want your knot… I want you, Seungmin. So much, so, so much. Need you”, you emphasised each statement with a tighter squeeze to the swollen base of his length.

“Oh, fuck!”

With a few more thrusts of his hips, and a few more twists of your wrists, Seungmin gave you a quick warning, only for your name to fly past his lips, and explode seconds after. Thick ropes of cum spurted from the tip of his cock, painting his torso in the creamy substance and dripping all over your hands. It was so much cum, more than you had ever seen anyone ever produce.

The sounds coming out of his mouth were absolutely pornographic, they entered your ears and shot straight to your aching, needy insides. Needy for Seungmin, for his knot, and his everything.

You kept working his cock, pumping the tip to make sure every drop of his cum came out, squeezing and stroking his knot through it all. Until Seungmin’s body slumped against the headboard.

The movement of your hands stopped, but you didn’t remove them. The sight was straight out of a wet dream, his torso, his shirt, his shorts, your hands, everything was covered in cum, and you suddenly had the urge to taste it. But you begrudgingly resisted that urge, this was probably not the moment for that.

When you finally looked away from the mess, your eyes found Seungmin’s. His chest rose and fell with his ragged breaths, his lips were slightly parted as he gasped for air, and he was looking so deeply into your eyes you simply couldn’t look away.

You weren’t sure who moved first, maybe it was you, or maybe it was him… Or maybe, it had been both.

Before you knew it, Seungmin’s soft, moist lips were on yours, kissing you like a starved man. And you retaliated, of course. You kissed him with the same enthusiasm he had, licking his bottom lip to get your tongue inside his mouth, and very quickly, you started to feel lightheaded.

Kissing Seungmin was better than you could’ve ever imagined. Hearing him and seeing him come was a transcendental experience, and you were sure that your brain chemistry had just been altered forever. How could you ever go back to anyone else after this?

The kiss was messy, sloppy, tongues intertwining and teeth sinking on soft skin, producing wet noises all around. You would’ve honestly loved to stay there forever, kissing him, with his length in your hands and his cum all over your fingers. Unfortunately, though, you needed to breathe, so you finally disconnected your lips from his, and took a deep breath.

Seungmin looked into your eyes, and you looked right back. They were still dark, still alluring, but there was something else, something softer… Maybe more vulnerable. The stare-off lasted for a few moments, a few moments spent in silence, until you both broke into a fit of laughter.

Seungmin was practically glowing, he looked possibly the most handsome you’d ever seen him. Even when he was covering the lower part of his face with his hand while he laughed, trying to hide that pretty smile of his after years and years of insecurities produced by the now long since removed braces on his teeth, you still found him incredibly handsome and adorable.

“I take it you enjoyed it? You must have. Look at this mess you made”, there was a teasing smile on your lips, but the truth was, you genuinely wanted to know. 

“As much as you enjoyed, it seems”, Seungmin scoffed, and he gestured between your bodies, where you were still holding his cock. He was still just as hard as he was before he came. 

“You’re still hard?” You couldn’t hide the surprise in your voice, nor the way your eyes widened at the sight, and it made Seungmin smirk immediately. 

“Baby, I’m a dog. My cock thinks it should be inside someone right now, keeping all my cum contained with my knot. Of course I’m still hard, it wants to breed”.

“To… to breed?” Your voice was airy, shaky, suddenly unable to contain the feeling of pure arousal you felt coursing through your veins.

“Mm… to breed”, Seungmin repeated, and he bit his lip when you started to gently squeeze and caress his knot.

He detached himself from the headboard just enough so he could pull his shirt off. After a few moments of silence, he spoke again. His gaze softened further, and he brought his hands to your cheeks so he could softly caress the skin with his thumbs. “Thank you. Fuck, I'm so grateful right now. That felt so good”.

“Oh, please… It was my pleasure”, you chuckled, finally letting go of the head of his cock so both of your hands could focus on giving attention to his knot, hopefully helping relieve any possible discomfort he might be feeling since it was out in the open, unable to fulfil its purpose. 

The motions clearly made Seungmin’s blush deepen. He looked at you for a few bated breaths, and before you could even understand what was happening, you were on your back, gasping in surprise. 

Taking his discarded shirt, Seungmin knelt on the bed, right between your legs, and he cleaned your hands, as well as his torso of as much of his cum as he could. 

“Your pleasure, pretty human, hasn’t even started yet. Let me make you feel as good as you just made me feel”.

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General Masterlist

𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞-𝐚-𝐡𝐨𝐞! - spiderman!han jisung x fem!reader

wc: 11.1k

cw: han jisung is spiderman, a brief attack of an alien in school, both characters are 18+ (legal) but are intended to be in high school, friends to lovers, jisung calling mc baby at any given moment

synopsis: you’re obsessed with spiderman, but after a certain event takes place, you become convinced your best friend and spiderman are the same person.

a/n: after a long wait… HEHE smut warnings under the cut and as usual 18+ MDNI!!!!!!!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: brief mention of masturbation (both), oral (fem!rec), slightly switchy both parties, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, loss of virginity (both), cumswapping, relatively tame given that its me

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’re intrigued.

Interested seemed like too little of a word to use for how you feel whenever you see the latest news report. In a world full of superhuman serums and bulletproof skin, he is still intriguing. Maths homework could be ignored, as far as you’re concerned - and that’s bold for you, because you love maths. You wonder if he likes maths, too.

Every night at 6pm sharp, you settle in front of the television and wait for the news. Spiderman, the hero in question, is always up to something. He loves shooting his webs across the tallest skyscrapers in the city, dangling from them precariously without a care before he lets out a loud, earth-shattering giggle and beats the newest bad-guy that your world has attracted. You always wince at the reports, wondering just how he healed from the injuries he must sustain. It had to be down to the spider venom, you supposed.

“He’s dangerous,” Your dad huffs. He’s lounging on his normal armchair, peeling leather be damned, munching on a bag of crisps. You grimace at his crisp covered digits motioning towards the television. You love your dad, really, and your mum - you just always differed in opinions when it came to Spiderman. He was so fucking cool, and you seriously feel like a child saying that all of the time, despite your best friend Jisung telling you that we all have our interests. “I mean, he’s putting normal civilians in danger. Friendly neighbourhood Spiderman my ass.”

“Honey,” Your mother admonishes, digging through her own bag of crisps. You briefly consider why you haven’t been offered one. They look tasty, when your father isn’t rubbing luminous orange dust onto his previously crisp white shirt. “You know she doesn’t like it when you say bad things about him. He- what was the word again, baby?”

“He intrigues me,” You mumble, pretending to erase equations from your homework. Your cheeks blaze crimson when your mother hums in agreement, nodding triumphantly to your father. You wish you could be as sassy as her sometimes. You’re more timid, hiding behind oversized hoodies and Jisung. He is a lot more confident than you, more loud and exuberant - you suppose that’s why he had adopted you as his all those years ago.

Your mother had been best friends with Jisung’s aunt, Sohee. She’s just like Jisung, zipping around the place at an insane pace to offer you snacks and drinks at every second. When you and Jisung had first met in preschool, you’d been drawing patterns in the mud with your grubby little fingers, hiding from the bullies. He’d criticised your drawing. He helped you fix it, though, chubby cheeks puffing out with a grin when it was good enough for his taste. Looking back now, that behaviour was so Jisung, but your mother had been delighted to find out that you’d already met her best friend’s son.

It had been easy becoming friends with him after that. Every day, he’d drag you by your wrist and take you to the yard, insisting on doing your co-operative drawings together. The teachers had a fit everyday on the state of you two by the end of your break, but your mothers had loved it, taking a million and one pictures a second. He stuck up for you both to the teachers, and then he stuck up for you to the bullies and it was like you’d known each other since birth. Inseparable at the hip, you’d been glued together throughout preschool, primary school and now high school - it doesn’t look like you’re getting rid of him anytime soon, either. You’d applied for the same colleges.

You don’t particularly want to be rid of him anyway. He’s alright, really, and you had a bit of a girly, high school crush on him. You would rather jump off of a building like Spiderman sans the webs if anyone found out.

Another thing Jisung is good for is listening to your rants. He waits for your call every night after the news had been on, and you clamber on your bed obediently after the report finishes to press on his contact.

“Jisung!” You squeal. There’s a lot of feedback on his end, and you hear a low ‘shit, fuck, oops, oh God’, until there’s a loud thud and he giggles, chiming through your tinny phone speakers. “... Ji? Are you okay?”

“Yep, sorry, baby,” He sounds out of breath, but you smile when he speaks anyway. Whenever he calls you baby, his designated nickname for you, it makes your heart flutter and you have to grimace to ignore it. His face pops into the little square designated to him, his cheeks blushing pink and round eyes wide. His hair is slightly damp, from what you’re not sure - but he looks cute. “I just got home. I was- I was running some errands for my aunt.”

“God, she’s got you running like crazy lately,” You mumble, still jotting down numbers on your homework. It’s taken you hours, but you always get distracted on nights like this. “Did you see it?”

Jisung hums, and then you hear him groan. He’s stretching, slightly toned honey-skinned arms appearing above his head in the plain oversized t-shirt he’s wearing. You try not to stare. “Did I see what?”

“The- the news, Sungie,” You feel shy mentioning it so outright. It is a weird interest, a weird thing to be obsessed with - Jisung often reassures you that it really isn’t, and his anime obsession was a lot worse. It was. You sigh, clearing your throat. “Spiderman. He was- he was super cool tonight.”

“Ooh, was he?” Jisung teases, chuckling when you groan in protest. “I’m only playing with you, baby. I saw it. He was super cool, wasn’t he?”

“Ha-ha, super cool, ‘cause he’s a superhero. You’re funny.”

“That’s why you keep me around,” Jisung chirps. “Hey, have you done the maths homework? I haven’t had time, because of the errands, y’know.”

“Hmm, yeah, I’m almost finished,” You aren’t. You’re far from it, really, but he doesn’t have to know that. “I can let you copy it tomorrow morning, before class.”

“No, that’s alright, baby. We can just cross-check our answers tomorrow,” His voice sounds tired, but you don’t comment. It’s better not to question Jisung when he’s like this.

His aunt has him doing a lot these days. You haven’t wanted to ask about it because you know it must be tough for her to look after Jisung since his parents passed, especially when Jisung is always going at full speed and is probably seconds away from giving his aunt a heart attack. He was always clumsy as a child, too, snapping his glasses in half and having a few broken bones to tell long stories about. He always means well, but sometimes you wish that he had something else to get his energy out of his system rather than stressing his aunt out.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“Jisung, surely you know who Spiderman is, like, underneath the mask,” Seungmin quips through a mouthful of dry, government regulated school food. “You spent all that time with Bang Chan in the internship.”

Seungmin is a lanky boy that just came along one day and decided to be yours and Jisung’s friend. With him, he brought a younger, smiley guy named Jeongin, and Jeongin brought Felix. Felix is just Felix - nothing else can describe him. Before long, you’d found yourself in a de facto group of misfits that you weren’t even sure you could call friends. Apart from Jisung, of course.

Jisung simply raises an eyebrow in response to Seungmin. “I mean, sure. I met Mr Bang a few times, but I never met Spiderman. Not out of his suit, anyway.”

You gasp. Jeongin startles from the nap he was taking on the cafeteria table, raising his head to look at you angrily. Felix pushes his head back down from the hood on his jumper and Jeongin immediately falls back to sleep. “You met him in his suit?”

“Well, yeah,” Jisung shrugs. When he turns to look at you, your mouth is agape, feeling slightly betrayed. Jisung shoves another spoonful of cheese - was it really cheese? - pasta into his mouth, and then he’s sighing. “It’s not a big deal, baby. If I really met him, the real him, you’d be the first to know. I promise.”

“You still got that fat crush on Spiderman?” Felix chirps. You meet his amused gaze with your own steely glare, pouting over your packed lunch.

“It’s not a crush-”

“It’s an interest,” Jisung clarifies for you, and you smile. He’s always jumping to your defence like that. You bite into an apple, savouring the crisp, fruity taste on your tongue, and then the bell rings. Sighing, you watch as the boys around you get up - including Jeongin, fox like eyes bleary from sleep - and swing their bags on their shoulders.

“I’ll see you later,” You murmur to Jisung, who throws his arm around your waist in a quick hug. “Enjoy English.”

Right. You and Jisung didn’t have the same classes. He has English now, and you have chemistry, which is probably your least favourite of all classes. You just weren’t a fan of the whole blowing shit up scenario, unlike Jeongin was, and the boy trundles behind you towards your chemistry class.

The class is boring. The teacher drones on and on about some experiment you couldn’t care less about, and you pretend to care. You’re taking notes, sure, ever the diligent student - but you can’t get anything other than Spiderman out of your mind. Jisung met him, and didn’t tell you, and who even is this guy? You’d love to know. You’d love to just see him, even once, just to be able to tell the story.

A massive crash stops the teacher’s speech. He turns to the door, confused, and the students do the same. You do too, furrowed eyebrows staring at the door. Another crash causes people to begin to rise, and the teacher starts ushering everyone out of the class to the closest exit route. You’re frozen in confusion and fear, pencil halted in your fingers, even as another noise makes the teacher run out behind the class.

It’s quiet for a moment, and you’re still sitting in your seat, eyes wide and heart racing. Then, you spring up to follow the rest of your cohort, sneakers squeaking against the tiled floor as you run to the door. Swinging it open, you stick your head out the door and look around, trying to see if the coast is clear. With a planet full of interdimensional attacks, you can’t be sure, and looking left leads you to see a scaly, large animal type of thing. You squeak, startled, and immediately retreat into the class before it notices you. What the fuck do you do? What are you meant to do?

The whole room begins to shake, and you have a feeling the creature’s getting closer. Beakers are thrown to the floor from the vibration ringing throughout the room, glass shattering loudly, and you feel like you’re about to scream, or cry, or run, and you can’t run.

Doing the only thing you can think of, you cower to the floor, hiding underneath a table donned in smashed beakers. You’re curled up in a ball, watching students standing outside murmuring and discussing their own safety, and then the shaking stops.

The door swings open. Everything outside the classroom is too intimidating, items being thrown everywhere, and you can’t even bring your legs to move with how badly they’re shaking. Who’s just walked in? You pray for Jisung. You pray for someone who’s going to help you hide, someone who’s going to keep you safe, and then-

A masked face pops underneath the table. He’s lithe, slender, but the tight red and dark blue suit highlights the hint of abs and sculpted biceps on his body. Holy fucking shit. Your eyes widen. Spiderman is in your school.

“Are you okay?” His voice is deep, but it sounds almost like someone putting on a deeper voice to hide their identity. You nod hesitantly, and then he’s extending a gloved hand towards you, pulling you out from underneath the table. You’re unable to speak. Once you’re standing in front of him, you notice he’s around a head or so taller than you, but definitely not as tall as you thought he’d be. He sighs, chest heaving with panic. You suppose it must be pretty tough work fighting aliens from outer space. “I’ve webbed him up for now, but it won’t hold much longer. Go- please, go and run. Please, anywhere, just- go and hide, or run.”

“I-I-”

“Promise me, b- um, you. I can’t let you get hurt.”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “I- Yes, I promise, I’m going to- I’ll go, thank you, thank you-”

“Wait, no!” He shouts, rubbing his temples - or at least, you’d imagine he was but he’s just rubbing the mask in frustration. You watch as he bounds over to the window, kicking it open, and the students outside turn to the classroom in awe. You’re rooted in place, as if vines are circling your ankles and securing you to the floor, mouth agape. You wait for him to give you further directions, and you gasp when he runs back over to you, picking you up and carrying you over to the window. You feel light as a feather, and all you can think is how he’s even carrying this amount of strength in that small body. “Too risky. Outside.”

“O-Outside?” You stammer, cheeks bright red, and he nods. He leans to place you out of the window, delicately placing you on your feet, and then he speeds off, shouting a quick “see you later!”.

You blink. You can hear the noises of walls breaking and windows shattering as Spiderman fights, and Felix runs up to you from the crowd outside and slings an arm over your shoulder. You’re still staring inside the classroom as if you can see through walls and watch the fight. What did see you later mean?

What’s the likelihood, honestly? You knew he was the friendly neighbourhood guy, and all that, but why not Bang Chan, in his sleek nanotech suit? This was a big fight. You find yourself getting worried, biting your nails in concern for the man you don’t even know. You have to remind yourself of that. He saved you because you’re any other citizen, not for any other specialty - you don’t know this guy.

“C’mon, over here,” Felix ushers you over, tone soft. When you’re with him, Seungmin and Jeongin, he sighs, rubbing your back. “Crazy, right? At least you can say you met Spiderman now.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Jisung is safe, thank god. You kind of feel guilty for not worrying about him at the moment, but he’d text you shortly after, saying he’d left just before it all kicked off because he felt a little under the weather. He wanted to make sure you were okay, though, so he texted you as soon as he could. You’d never admit the blush that rose to your cheeks when you read it.

It’s quiet in your room. Your parents had sprinted to you as soon as you’d come through the door, having seen the situation on the news, and you’d reassured them that Spiderman had saved you. It definitely changed your dad’s perspective of him, and now you lie on your bed feeling more than relieved.

Your fingers tap on your tummy in thought, though. He was making his voice deeper, that much you could tell, but why? How was he there so quickly? There’s no fucking way he was a student. Still, that body in the tight suit… you’d definitely been looking. You’re a woman, of course you were going to look. He had a figure enviable to every man. Broad shoulders, abs just slightly visible, strong legs that carried you over to the window…

In your dreamlike fantasy, you’re considering something you previously never would’ve thought of. What if Jisung was underneath that suit? Now, that would be perfect. Both of your crushes being one being, Jisung pulling that suit up his lithe thighs and letting it settle over his broad pecs.

Before you know it, your hand is dipping under the hem of your pyjama pants, unable to feel guilty for thinking about your best friend in this way. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time, with many of your nights spent whimpering into your pillow and coming apart on your own fingers wishing they were his. He had such nice hands… What if it was him who had grabbed you from underneath that table? Your hand trails down to find your folds, slick and ready for whatever you had in store, but you focus on your clit, swollen and aching between your bottom lips. Would he finger you in the gloves if you asked, let you ride his abs in the suit until completion? Would he kiss you upside down, hanging from the-

A tap on your window makes you jump. The room is dark, save for your bedside lamp, and you turn rapidly to see a faceless figure just about popping in from the corner. You yank your hand out of your bottoms, squeaking, and then you squint to try and see the figure closer.

Holy shit. Spiderman is at your bedroom window.

Your cotton tank top is revealing, so you turn immediately to reach for your dressing gown and tie it around your figure. You pad over to the window in your socks, still wide-eyed and completely baffled, and then you turn the handle to allow him access. What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” You blurt, toes curling against your floor. Spiderman swings inside instead of responding, walking around your room like he’s been there a million times before. “No, seriously, what the fuck?”

He turns to you, shrugging. “I said I’d see you later, didn’t I?”

You blanch. He did say that, yes, but that still doesn’t explain the million questions you have right now. “Well, yeah, but- how do you know where I live?”

“I- uh, found it in the school office,” He hops up onto your bed, sitting cross legged. His mask hides his face, but he hums in pleasure at the feeling of the bedsheets on him. “After the fight, I went in there. Glad you’re okay, by the way.”

He’s still making his voice deeper, and you blink, nodding in response. “I’m great. Can I- can I ask why you’re here?”

He shrugs again, fiddling with a loose thread on your duvet. “No reason. Got bored. I was swinging around and remembered I saw your address on the computer.”

“Right,” You shake your head, still baffled. Instead of questioning him further, you jump onto the bed in front of him and copy his position, cross legged. “Don’t you have, like, recovering to do? I heard you got beat pretty bad.”

“Nah, no way,” He scoffs, rolling his neck. You suppress a smile. Cocky. “Spider venom, y’know? It repairs everything super quick.”

You were right. You can’t suppress a smile at his response, clicking your fingers at his masked face. “I fucking knew it! I guessed it was the venom.”

He stops fiddling with the duvet, turning to you and tilting his head in question. “You’re smart, aren’t you? Hey, are you the one that’s friends with that kid?”

You narrow your eyes. Jisung’s a liar. If Spiderman knows who he is, that means they’ve met more than once, and Jisung lied. You reach for your phone, ready to bitch him out via text, but Spiderman knocks your phone out of your hand. You turn to him, confused.

“Talk to me,” He whines. “I told you I was bored!”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, damn. Yes, I’m friends with Jisung. Why?”

“No reason,” He wiggles forward on your bed, grabbing your hand. You’re confused, but then he launches you into an intense thumb war, one that you were never going to win. Everytime you go to move your thumb in response to his, he’s got you pinned, and before he speaks again you’re five rounds down. “He’s pretty cool, right?”

“Who?” You ask, still focusing on the thumb war.

“Jisung,” He clarifies, clearing his throat. Making his voice that deep must be taking its toll on his vocal chords. “He’s kinda cool. Super smart, I thought.”

“He definitely is,” You laugh when he pins your thumb down again, swatting at his wrist to get him off of you. “He’s smarter than me.”

“And, uh,” He clears his throat again, leaning back on your bed. Leaning back like that, you have a full view of his body in his suit, and you have to stare at the posters on your wall to avoid looking at him. He puts his hands behind his head, the full picture of relaxation, and you wished he’d stop throwing you this random curveball behaviour. “Is that all you think of him? Just smart?”

You blush, finally reverting your eyes to him. “What do you mean?”

“I just mean… Do you have a crush on him, or?”

“Who wants to know?” You bristle, playing with your hands in your lap. You look down at your chipped nail polish, awkwardly shifting on the bed in your pyjamas. “I don’t even know who you are.”

“No one knows who I am,” He responds easily. “I want to know. Tell me. Do you have a crush on him?”

“I’m not telling you that-”

“I’m bored!” He whines again, sitting up. You let him grab your hand again, pulling your pinky finger into a promise. You swear you see the mask smile. “Tell me!”

“Okay, damn,” You sigh, exasperated. Was he on molly or something? Are you dreaming? “I guess so. I guess I always have, yeah, I don’t know. I don’t think he’d ever like me like that.”

He coos at that, taking your hand in his. It’s strangely comforting. “Why not?”

“He’s- well, I don’t think I’m good enough for someone like him,” You admit, scratching the back of your neck. “It’s awkward. He’s my best friend. It would ruin things, and I guess I’ve never let myself think about it like that.”

“You should,” He hums. You blink, staring at him. What the hell is he on about? “I just mean you should. Maybe he likes you too, y’know? I like my best friend. I’d love to know if she likes me back.”

“You do?” You wiggle closer, eager to know more. “You like your best friend? What’s she like?”

“Well,” He strokes your hand again before pulling away, leaning his chin on his hand. “She’s super pretty. Smart, too. I’ve known her since like, forev- for a few years, I think, in total.”

“It’s kind of the same with me and Jisung,” You sigh again, pouting. “I’ve known him for my whole life, basically. I’m just scared it’ll ruin things, but I think about him a lot when I’m on my own.”

He snickers. “Really? Like when you’re doing what you were doing when I got here?”

You swat at his shoulder, blushing bright red. “Shut up, oh my god! I thought you- shut up. Just don’t.”

“Maybe he thinks about you then too, I don’t know,” He shrugs nonchalantly, and then he’s getting up and pacing around. You watch him fiddle with a few photo frames on your desk, humming at ones of you and Jisung when you were younger and even fiddling with a few of your academic medals and prizes. “I won’t tell him, by the way.”

“You see him often?” You ask, voice soft. “He said-”

“Nah, I’ve only seen him once or twice,” He stretches his arms above his head, still staring at your desk full of trinkets. “He doesn’t know who I am.”

“Can I know?”

He turns to you. “Know what?”

“I want to know who you are,” Your voice is confident, but you feel anything but, teeth chewing your bottom lip nervously. “You saved me, and now you’re in my bedroom. I feel that I deserve to know.”

He sighs loudly this time, walking towards the window. “When we get to know eachother better, maybe.”

“Wait, hang on,” You watch him sling a foot out of the window, exasperated. He can’t leave! “Where are you going? I thought you said you were bored-”

“Things to do, baby,” He replies quickly. You blink. That ‘baby’ sounds awfully familiar, and you stand up quickly to walk towards the window, but he’s already webbing away. “Bye!”

You stand there, shocked and confused. He’s swinging from building to building away from you, and you’re just standing there like an idiot. You were interrupted before you could even start touching yourself, forced into a thumb war and coerced into admitting your deepest, darkest secret, and then he just… leaves? Just like that?

Your life is proving to be a little more interesting than you thought, but your dreams were filled with familiar round cheeks beneath a red and blue mask.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“Baby, is there a reason why your eyes are burning holes into the side of my head?”

You’re convinced your best friend is Spiderman. There, sitting beside you with his glasses sliding down his nose and comfortable in a grey hoodie and pink Hello Kitty pyjama bottoms on, it’s hard to believe. But you’re not stupid.

First of all, since he started that internship with Mr Bang, he’s been weird about letting you inside his room. This is the same person that you had many sleepovers with growing up, and as recently as a few months ago you’d been cuddling in bed together watching Howl’s Moving Castle. He has something to hide, but you’d been let down when you’d arrived at his house earlier and shouldered past him to find literally nothing of suspicion inside his room, other than an anime girl mouse pad with the boobs to rest your wrist on. You knew that existed though, ever since his birthday last year when Felix had gifted it to him, so what gives?

Secondly, Sohee is more stressed out than ever. You’d caught sight of her flitting around the kitchen when you arrived for your homework friend-date, scrubs on and ready to head to the hospital but still panicking about something. Jisung said multiple times that he’d been helping her out more and that’s why he’s been so busy lately. She shouldn’t still be panicking.

Thirdly, Spiderman wouldn’t make his voice deeper to you unless you knew him. He wouldn’t need to, or you wouldn’t recognise his voice - unless it’s a habit he’s picked up, perhaps. That doesn’t change that the way he called you baby last night sounded a little bit too familiar, too comfortable. It came out of his mouth like second nature.

Still, it makes no sense. Surely Jisung would have told you? You’re his best friend, he said so, so he’d tell you. Or would he? Maybe Felix knows. You’re also hoping deep down that it isn’t true, because if it is, you told your crush last night that you liked him.

You can’t even be mad at Jisung for it. He’s still staring at you, and you’re staring blankly back while shoving snacks into your mouth. There’s crumbs all over your homework.

“Jisung,” You begin, and he hums in response. “Would you tell me your deepest, most serious secret if I worked it out?”

He chokes on his energy drink, spluttering neon blue liquid all over his bed. You want to giggle, to make fun of him, but you’re sure you’ve gotten somewhere here. He wipes his mouth, clears his throat, and turns back to you. His hands are shaky where they clutch his textbook, and his eyes are almost blurry through the glasses. “I tell you everything anyway.”

“I don’t think you do,” You respond, quick as a beat. He blinks, lips parting. “Not by that reaction, Jisung. I think you’re hiding something from me.”

He scratches his nose with the end of his pen, looking down at the textbook again. You raise an eyebrow. “I’m not hiding anything.”

“Okay,” You hum. He sighs, scribbling something on the paper. It’s so quiet in the room that you can hear his pen scribbling, but you’re speaking again before you can even think. “Did I tell you Spiderman came to my room last night?”

He gulps audibly. “Nope.”

“Yeah, it was kinda weird,” You take a sip from your energy drink, still staring at him vacantly. Jisung’s eyes flit up to you, and then back down to the textbook. Oh, he knows. He knows that you know. He knows that you know that he knows. “He saved me in school, when that alien thing was there, and then he came to my room and asked me about you.”

“He, uh- really? Did he?”

“Mhm,” Your gaze is steely. “Jisung, I know you’re Spiderman.”

Jisung bursts out laughing. It would be believable, but you’ve known him since you were four years old and it’s a fake laugh. He’s cackling, loud as brass, and he lets out a little “ooh” afterwards as if he can’t believe you. “Baby, that’s the craziest theory you’ve ever come up with.”

“Is it?” You question, head tilting to the side. Then, in the smartest moment you’ve ever had, you pick up Jisung’s energy drink from the floor. He’s still looking at you, a fake smile on his lips, and you take a sip from it casually. Sharing drinks isn’t new for you. You glug back the artificial blue raspberry flavour, and then keeping eye contact with him, you let go.

Before the can is able to fall and spill the rest of its contents over your own textbook, and inevitably Jisung’s One Piece bed sheets, he reaches out and grabs it, hand wrapping around the can, quick as a flash. It all happens in about a second, and you gasp. Jisung gasps. His hand tightens around the can and it crinkles, an impossible show of strength, and then he’s blinking at you. You raise an eyebrow.

“I knew it.”

He puts the can safely on the bedside table, and then he’s slamming his textbook shut. You watch in confusion as he paces back and forth on his bedroom floor, running his hands through his hair over and over.

“Okay!” He points at you, victorious. “That was a reflex. I knew you were going to do that, I’m smart, duh! I knew you were going to drop the can to prove something, and-”

“Jisung,” You say, voice soft. He stops pacing, sock clad feet rooted on the carpet to stare at you. You’re going to get him. You’re going to get him good. “Do you not want me to know? Is that what this is?”

He immediately falls to the floor, head resting on your knee as he looks up at you. You can’t even feel sorry for him, because your plan is working perfectly. His eyes are round and vulnerable, and then he clenches them shut in distress. You think he’s probably a second away from crying. “Baby, it’s not that. I wanted to protect you. It would be dangerous if the bad guys knew who you were, knew that you knew, and I know I shouldn’t have come to your room, that was wrong of me, and-”

You giggle. Jisung furrows his eyebrows, eyes opening. “I knew I was right.” He gasps, pointing at you again.

“Judas! You’re a judas!” He’s shocked, leaning back on his haunches and staring at you. “I can’t- I can’t believe you, that was so-”

“Sneaky? Good? Smart?” You list, leaning back on his twin bed. He stands up, hands on his hips. You’re ready for him to bitch you out, but you don’t care - you knew that you had to know, had to have it confirmed. He taps his foot, and then you see a smile break out on his lips.

“Okay, yeah, that was pretty good,” He hums, returning to the bed. You let him shut your own textbook and sprawl across you, head in your lap. “I’m sorry, baby. I should’ve told you.”

You sigh, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair. “That’s okay, Ji. It’s fine. I’m just a little embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed? Why?” Jisung asks, his eyes fluttering shut from the feeling of your nails on his scalp. You want to scoff. Embarrassed for two major reasons - one, because you’ve been gushing about how cool Spiderman is for weeks, maybe even months, and two because you told Spiderman last night that you liked Jisung. Spiderman and Jisung are the same person. Sure, it makes things easier. You no longer have a crush on two people, only one, but it doesn’t change the fact that Jisung knows and is yet to say anything.

“I’ve been talking to you about Spiderman for weeks,” You blush, pushing his hair off of his forehead. He whines, thrashing his feet and shaking his head like a dog to hide his forehead again. He’s so dramatic. You like him so bad. “And- and you- it was you, then. You came to my room last night.”

“Yeah, that was risky,” He responds, exasperated. “I just had to, baby. I don’t know, you always seemed so interested in Spiderman and not me. I needed to know if you saw me like you saw him.”

You pause your movements on his head, blinking at the wall in front of you. When you turn back to him, he’s blushing, teeth gnawing his bottom lip. His eyes are conveniently staring at the window, away from you.

“Jisung,” You start, hesitant. “What do you mean?”

He sits up sharply. “Wanna go on the roof?”

“T-The roof? Jisung, how are we gonna- oh. Oh.”

Jisung jumps up from the bed, toeing his sliders onto his feet and pushing the window open. It gives you deja vu - that same figure was pushing the window open just like this to place you safely outside in school yesterday, and then he was coming through your window to see you late at night. It’s hard to believe that they’re the same person, the man you admired so much and your best friend who’s standing by the window expectantly waiting for you to join him.

You hesitantly stand up, brushing off imaginary crumbs from your joggers and looking at Jisung. He smiles, a soft, reassuring smile, and then he’s scooping you up from the floor and wrapping your legs around his waist. It’s slender, the plush flesh of your thighs almost obscuring it, and you squeak in surprise at being in the air.

“I- Jisung?!”

“You have to hold on tight,” He says. His face is inches away from yours, plush lips looking more than appealing and his glasses making him look so endearing. “I need my hands for this, so hold onto my shoulders.”

You nod, face blushing crimson at the realisation of just how close you are. Would he have you like this if he fucked you? Legs around his waist, hands on his shoulders, his face so close to yours as he pants and whines and moans-

You squeak again when he slides out of the window, and then you see him in action. His hands stick to the outside of the apartment building, feet kicking up against the concrete wall. Your heart is racing so badly it feels as though it could burst out of your chest, but you’re not sure if it’s because of the height or because you’re tightly pressed against Jisung.

When he swings you both over the side ledge on the roof, you notice the sun’s set already. Time always goes by quickly with Jisung, but the stars are already out, and the air is crisp and biting against your limbs despite the layers. Once he’s safely stood on the roof, he places his hands underneath your thighs and detaches you from his firm body, placing you on your feet.

You’re disorientated, shocked at the sheer height of the building and at the way Jisung seems to be swinging you around like it’s nothing, but he’s simply staring at you. A wide smile stretches from ear to ear, and he blinks when you don’t say anything. “It’s cool, right?”

“Y-Yeah, super cool,” You admit, chest heaving. “Really high up, but cool. Jisung, why are we on the roof?”

He’s wrangling you, hands on your arms and pushing you to the floor. It feels firm, but with what you now know about him, you know he’s holding back. He plops down next to you, eyes wide and expectant.

“I wanted to do it properly,” He begins. He pauses for a moment, licks his lips, pushes his glasses up his nose, and then he’s speaking again. “I like you, so that’s why I asked. Is it romantic up here? It feels romantic, but I’m not too sure-“

He stands up and begins pacing around the roof before you realise he’s even moved. You raise an eyebrow. “Jisung?”

“I wanted to do this right, y’know?” He pauses, hands on his hips. He looks comical, trying to assert dominance over you like that in those Hello Kitty pyjama trousers. “I- I wanted to swing by and like, grab you, or something? But then you worked it out, and now I’m just standing here with you on a roof…”

He continues mumbling like a mad scientist, eyes focused on a spot next to your head. You stand up, making your way towards him, and he still refuses to look at you. He likes you back. He likes you back, and he’s still your best friend - he’s still Jisung, but he’s also Spiderman, and you’re okay with that. You don’t have to like two people. You only like one, and it’s your goofy best friend.

“Is this even romantic? You know, we could just forget about it and-“

You press your lips to his. He doesn’t make any form of surprised noise, only cupping your cheeks with his hands and pulling you close to him. His glasses bump against your face, his lips pouty against yours and plush and maybe a bit too wet for a first kiss, but you’d always figured he’d take it too far. That’s what you like about him. Jisung never does anything by halves.

It’s brief, too brief for your liking, but then he’s pulling away with a satisfied grin on his face. You blink. Wait.

“Wait, your stupid- your stupid spidey things. Did you know I was going to kiss you?” You pout, and he giggles. “No, seriously! Could you like- I don’t know, feel it coming?”

“Not until you were like, a few inches from my face,” Jisung admits, and his teeth gleam in the brilliance of the evening. “I had a feeling you might.”

You sigh. “So why didn’t you stop talking?”

“Dunno,” He shrugs. “I couldn’t stop once I started.”

The statement is so true to Jisung, so in character for your best friend that you can do nothing but accept it.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

It’s easy to fall into a different routine with Jisung.

He never asked you to be his girlfriend. You’re pretty sure you’re fine with that, though - things have had a natural manner of progressing, and now your best friend slash boyfriend slash superhero turns up at your window every night after he’s been on his neighbourhood patrol. Sometimes he’s a little bruised, and sometimes he’s just looking for consolation kisses.

It’s a normal night for you when it happens. Jisung’s halfway out of your bedroom window on his way to perform perfect justice, pulling his mask down over his annoyingly beautiful face. You’re standing a few feet away grinning like an idiot.

“I’ll see you later, my baby,” You can see his grin through the mask. The eyes on his mask form beautiful crescent moons with his happiness. He falters, legs swinging on your windowsill. “Wait. I am coming back here, yeah?”

“Of course,” You giggle. He sends you two fingers in a mock salute, and you watch him begin his journey up the wall to your roof. A beat passes and you’re still standing there, smiling, hands on your hips, and then the masked head of your best friend pops back down into your window, upside down, tilting to the side in confusion. You blink, confused. “What is it, Sungie?”

“Well, where’s my goodbye kiss? Damn,” He huffs, and you roll your eyes playfully. You make your way to the window, sock-clad feet padding on your carpet, and you pull his mask down to his eyes with two fingers. It miraculously stays on his head, and his lips form a teasing grin.

Despite him being upside down, you place a chaste kiss to his lips, and you watch in amusement as he swings away afterwards. You can still hear him giggling with glee from a few buildings away.

It’s a few hours later when he comes back. You’re flicking through a book for English, scrawling notes and highlighting words on sticky notes. It’s started to rain, and the city lights only look brighter in the dusk with the pattering of water on your window. You left it open, of course, for your superhero, but the cold air bites at your arms even through the fluffy blanket you’ve got wrapped around yourself.

Just as you’re beginning to contemplate closing it, a louder, more prominent tap hits the glass. When you turn to the window, Jisung is slouched against your windowsill, chest heaving beneath red lycra and forehead pressed against the glass. He’s got his mask between his teeth, and his hair is dishevelled, floppy brown locks obscuring his eyes. You can still catch sight of the bruising on his cheekbones and you gasp, rushing towards the window.

You drop your blanket in shock, but you swing the window open, pulling Jisung inside with one hand. He stumbles through, disoriented and confused, and you lead him to sit on the edge of your bed.

“Got hurt,” He explains, huffing out a breath. The mask drops from his teeth unceremoniously, with a wet plop to your carpeted floor, but you don’t care. You rush to sit next to him, fingers gripping his chin to pull him to face you. His eyes are round, sincere, and he gives you a soft smile. “It’ll heal before long, baby, don’t panic.”

“I am panicking,” You say, resolute, because you really are. Bruising is scattered across his cheekbones, fading into green on the plush of his cheeks and his lip looks like it had been burst, but is already healing. “Will it- will it take long? Do you need me to get the first aid kit, or-“

“Baby,” He shakes his head, grabbing your hands. You watch with parted lips as he leans forward, both of you cross legged on the end of your bed. It reminds you of when Spiderman first visited you, when you weren’t quite sure of his identity. Jisung presses his forehead against yours, and you let him look into your eyes. It’s like he’s demanding everything that’s ever gone through your head to be vocalised. You’d tell him if he asked. “I’m really okay. I’m a little shaken up, but I’m fine. Most of it is on my ribs from falling, to be honest.”

“Your ribs?!” You shriek. “Show me. Let me see, I need to help you-“

You’re already trying to wrangle Jisung out of his suit, and he giggles, clearly thinking this is all just some game. He holds his arms up pliantly, though, and you don’t have the thought processing ability within you to realise that Jisung’s suit is an all-in-one and you’re currently stripping him down to his boxers.

The suit is wet too when you drop it to the floor, and before long you’re blinking at your best friend in his plain black boxers and he’s grinning at you as if this is any other day. There’s no bruising on his ribs. You’re staring at his abs, regardless, so you’re not sure you would’ve even noticed.

“You look fine.”

“I told you it heals quickly, baby,” He grins. You blink when he wriggles on your bed, laying on his back and stretching his arms above his head again, this time to get comfortable. His legs stretch out too, and you avoid looking anywhere below his waist.

His body is a spectacle. You can’t stop looking. Broad shoulders taper off into an extremely defined chest and a tight, thin waist adorned with prominent abdominal muscles, before reaching a v-line that leads into his boxers. You’re wide eyed, wanting nothing more than to reach out and run your fingers down his honey toned skin.

“Why-“ You cough, clearing your throat. Jisung raises an eyebrow. He’s grinning from ear to ear, teeth gleaming. “Why did you let me strip you if you’re literally fine?”

The bruising on his cheek is already fading. He shrugs nonchalantly, crossing his arms over his chest. His biceps bulge with the movement and you think you might choke on your own spit. “You seemed pretty determined, so I just allowed it. You wanted to see me naked, I assumed, so-“

“Jisung!” You wail, slapping his shoulder. He groans in pain, catching your hand, and he grits his teeth with a hiss.

“My shoulder! Fuck, that hurt, ouch, baby! What was that for?!”

You gasp. He clutches his shoulder, letting out little pants of hurt sounding noises. You let your head fall to his chest, engulfing him with a hug. “Jisung, I’m so sorry-“

“Hehe,” He giggles. When you look at him, he’s sticking his tongue out, completely fine. You groan, annoyed you fell for it, and then he’s grabbing your forearms and pulling you upwards on top of him.

Your breasts press against his chest like this, due to your lack of bra in your sleep shirt, and his eyes widen when he feels it. Instead of letting you go, his hands move to your back, encompassing you in his strong hold.

You gasp, wiggling in his grip, and he licks his lips. His eyes go to your lips, and then back up to your eyes, as if he’s hesitant.

“I-“ He begins, faltering. “Are you my girlfriend?”

You scoff out a laugh. “I don’t know, am I?”

“I hope so,” Jisung admits, his facial expression vulnerable. His eyes dart to something behind you, as if he’s not sure, almost shy. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him shy. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask, but I want you to be, if you want to be.”

“I want to be,” You nod. He nods in response, and you watch his eyes flicker to your lips again. It’s silent for a moment, and then he leans in, pressing his lips against yours.

The kiss is more charged than usual. Before now, you’re used to chaste, fleeting kisses from your superhero, but now he lets his tongue tease against the seam of your lips. Your eyes flutter shut, and his eyelashes brush against your skin where he does the same. You let your lips part, and Jisung’s quick to grip your back harder, tongue darting inside your mouth with impatience.

You’ve made out with someone before. You’d never had sex with someone before, but you had made out with someone. It was only once at a party when you were a little bit younger but it had felt like a good idea at the time. You’re sure Jisung’s lost his virginity though, but when he whimpers against your lips and his hips squirm a little you’re not too sure.

You pull away from the kiss, lips a little wet, and Jisung’s mouth goes to your neck. You allow him to suck a mark into the expanse of skin just underneath your jaw, his fingers grabbing impatiently at your back. “Sungie, are you a virgin?”

Jisung pulls away, licking his lips. You feel something hard pressing against your thigh where you lay on top of him. You’re thanking every entity ever that your parents are out for a work dinner. “Yeah, I am. I would have told you if I wasn’t,” He confirms, a little breathless. His hips wiggle again. “Is that- is that okay, baby?”

“Yeah, of course,” You smile, comforting. You peck his lips again and he grins back at you. “I am too.”

“I know,” He responds, quick as a flash. You blush. That’s embarrassing. “No, I just mean- you also would’ve told me, y’know?”

“That’s true,” You shrug. You’re feeling a little overconfident, and you move in his hold, having felt it gone a little lax with your kissing. You let your thighs spread over his hips, his hard shaft pressing against your core through your pyjama bottoms and his boxers. You still feel it, though, and it makes your pussy gush a little. “Is- is this okay?”

He’s blushing. His lips part, and he nods, perhaps too eagerly because he clutches his neck afterwards like he’s got whiplash. “Baby, you’re- I have a pretty girl in my lap. This is so okay. Like, so okay, I might have a heart attack and die, probably.”

You shift, and he winces. “Sorry,” You say. It’s a fake apology. You want to swallow his cock down your throat until he cries, and you don’t even know how to. You’d try your best though. “If I lost my virginity, I’d want it to be with you.”

“Damn,” Jisung whistles, eyebrows raised. “Let me hit?”

You giggle, tilting your head to the side. “I’ll let you hit right now, Jisung.”

Jisung shoots upwards into a seated position. His eyes are wide. “Right now?”

“Right now,” You confirm. You go from straddling his lap to laying on your back on your bed in a flash, and Jisung looms over you, all tight, toned muscles and broad shoulders.

“I’ll make it so good, baby, I promise,” He says, and then he’s kissing you again. It’s even messier this time, lips pressing against yours over and over and his tongue adding a collection of spit to the mix. You let your thighs fall apart, his hips quick to fill the space and press his cock against you. His hands go to your waist as he kisses you, sucking and biting on your lips until you’re whining with it, but he doesn’t let up. He’s desperate, messy, and it’s only making your pussy drool even more.

The rain hits the window still, cooling off a little but still providing a calming effect to your room when combined with the orange-pink of your lamp. He inches his palms up your shirt, the softness of his hands surprising you, and then he’s pulling away from your mouth to yank the fabric over your head.

You’re left in just your pyjama bottoms, lips kiss bitten and nipples pebbled against the cool air of your bedroom. You never had shut your window, after all.

“Oh,” Jisung says, exasperated. You finally open your eyes to see him staring at your tits, and you think he might be drooling. “Oh, yeah, my baby. They are so fucking good.”

You almost laugh, but you’re cut off by your own strangled moan when his pouty lips engulf your right nipple. He sucks on it, hard, and when your back arches he lets it slip out of his mouth with a wet popping noise. It’s only a brief moment of reprieve before he’s letting his teeth skim along the bud, and you keen, fingers moving upwards from his shoulders to grip onto the pillow behind your head.

“Oh, that’s so- Sungie, baby, that feels good,” You whine, and he hums against your breast. When he moves to the other one, he tweaks your wet nipple between two fingers. It’s experimental, but the whole thing is, and you buck your hips up impatiently.

His hands move to your ass, scooping underneath you and making you grind slightly against him. The movement makes him moan, your nipple leaving his mouth. A string of drool attaches to his lips and his tongue lolls out lazily, and before you can process it, he’s grinding his cock into your clothed centre.

“Oh- oh, fuck,” He whines, eyes clenching shut. You whimper in response, arms wrapping around his shoulders. “Baby- baby, baby. Baby, I’ve thought about this so much, I- fuck, you’re gonna feel so good around my cock.”

His words are so crude that they make you keen, nodding enthusiastically. “I thought about it too. I- I touched myself thinking about it, Sungie, did you?”

He gasps sharply, and there’s a fumbling between your legs. He rocks backwards on his haunches, and you see him gripping his cock impatiently underneath his boxers, fingers wrapped tight around the base.

“I will literally cum if I imagine that,” He huffs, breathless. “But yes. I did, many times, and- and- baby, can I see your pussy?”

It’s so bold that you can’t say no. You never would have dreamed of saying no anyway, and you nod, wiggling your bottoms down your legs. You never wear a bra or panties underneath your pyjamas, and your pussy is revealed to him in all its drooly glory, folds sticking together with your arousal.

Jisung’s jaw goes slack. You watch him jerk his cock, eyes fixated on your wet hole, and you shift impatiently.

“I showed you mine, Sungie,” You huff. “Show me yours.”

He nods, eyes still glued to your pussy. Your clit is swollen with arousal, some wetness stuck onto it, and you reach down to trace your fingertips over it absentmindedly while he pushes his boxers down. His cock slaps up against the bottom of his tummy, cockhead leaking beneath his foreskin, precum slicking the smattering of hair at his base. His balls look heavy, shaft swollen and fat between lithe thighs, and you can’t help but go a little googly eyed at the thought of him stretching you out.

He grabs it, pumps his cock a few times while you rub your fingers over your clit. “Is- is it okay, baby?” He gasps, cock leaking steadily in his fist.

“You’re so sexy, Sungie, ‘s so big. I- oh,” You whine, spreading your arousal over your folds. You prop your feet up, letting your legs fall wide, and the movement must expose your soppy hole to Jisung because his eyes widen even further. “I want you inside of me so bad. I’ve wanted it for so long, I just- shit, Jisung, what are you-“

You’re cut off by him diving between your legs. His cock is forgotten, his hands looping around your ass again to spread you wide, and his tongue presses against your core. He moans at the taste, and you whimper out loud, head rolling against your pillow. It’s messy and you can tell he’s inexperienced, but when he sucks your clit between his lips you can’t find it in you to care.

“Oh, oh- baby, baby! You’re good at that, so good at that, baby,” You babble, trying your best not to grind up into his mouth. His mouth is just as wet as your pussy, his lips drooling all over you. You’re cut short when he flattens his tongue against your core, moaning out loud, and his hands move your ass just a bit. “I- you- Sungie-?”

“Grind on my face, baby, c’mon,” He murmurs, muffled by your folds, and you oblige. Your hand goes to his hair, yanking on the dark brown strands, and you hold him in place while you grind your pussy senseless on his tongue. Your boy is good with his mouth, you realise - he’s pliant, letting you make yourself cum on his tongue and lips, and after only a few grinds you’re sure you’re going to fall apart for him.

“Ah! Ah, oh, baby, your mouth is- Sungie, Sungie,” You whine, feet kicking on the bed. Your legs go flat, but as the pleasure builds up in your core, your thighs tighten around his ears. He likes this, moaning loud to the point the vibrations make you jolt. It’s all so wet, your pussy dripping with arousal and his saliva, dripping down to your asshole. It has you wondering if Jisung would eat your ass further down the line, and your eyes flicker to his - would he let you eat his? He probably would, with how submissive he’s being.

His hips buck downwards on the bed and he keens into your pussy, and you realise he’s humping your mattress. He’s so desperate for you that he just can’t help himself, and you moan, loud and unabashed. The sight has you hurtling towards your orgasm.

“I’m gonna fucking cum, baby,” You warn, and he finally lets up, pulling back to suck on your clit. His hand moves over to the top of your pussy, pulling your mound backwards, and the exposure of your clit directly to his lips is your downfall. You wail, bucking your hips into his mouth, and you can hear yourself talking and moaning but you’re not sure what you’re saying, only able to feel your hole gushing into Jisung’s mouth over and over.

Jisung licks over your clit a few times comfortingly, and then he’s on top of you again, face looming over yours. His right hand holds him up steadily and the other stays downwards, hooked on your thigh to keep you open.

“You taste delicious, baby,” He grins, mouth wet. When he presses his lips to yours he’s desperate, tongue darting into your mouth to let you taste your own cum. You let your hands fall to his chest, fingernails digging into the muscles. The filthiness of it all has you wriggling around impatiently again, and Jisung’s cockhead slips against your clit, making you whine into his mouth. He pulls away, gasping for air with the sensation, and you kiss the beauty spot on his cheek for good measure. “Baby. M-my baby, shit, can- can I fuck you now? Have you got a condom, I- shit, I need to fuck you?”

He’s breathless, giggling at his own desperation, and you nod eagerly. You’re on the pill, and realistically you’d want nothing more than him to creampie you, but you have a shred of logic still left in your brain. “No condom. I- I don’t have any, can you pull out? I know it’s not-“

“Don’t care,” He huffs, legs moving to prop himself up more securely. His knees dig into your bed, and he pulls your thigh further apart, letting his eyes fall down to your pussy. His face is more than pornographic when he sees the visual of his cockhead sliding through your folds, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted. He lets his eyes flutter shut, a small profanity leaving his mouth. “You’re sure I can fuck you raw? I- please, p-please, baby. I need to be inside.”

“Jisung,” You whine. He lets his tip bump against your clit again, and you grow too desperate, reaching down yourself to grab his cock. The feeling makes him whimper, his fingers ripping into the pillow beside your head with his superhuman strength, but you’re too out of it to care. You position his cock by your hole, soppy and wet with your own cum, and he can’t hold himself back - he pushes in, all of it at once, a long, anguished noise leaving his mouth. “Oh. Oh- Oh, Jisung, that’s-“

“Is it okay? Are you okay?” Jisung asks, breathless. “Does it hurt? I- baby, baby-“

He’s still completely stationary, but he can’t stop talking, chest heaving and flushed pink. You shake your head. It doesn’t hurt. You’re wet enough that he glided in so easy, stretching your pussy in the most pleasurable, delicious way. You didn’t think it would ever feel this good, but you’re sure it’s because it’s Jisung.

“God, is it- does it feel good?” He questions you, and you nod eagerly, hands moving to rest on his biceps. He repositions you both so that your legs are wrapped around his waist, his arms holding himself up over you, and the movement has him sliding deeper, making you whimper. “Can I-“

“Fucking hell, Jisung, can you just move?” You huff, annoyed, and he giggles. He shakes his head fondly, and then he’s thrusting into you, slow but steady.

“Oh, that’s good,” He slurs, eyes rolling back into his head. “That pussy’s good. Jesus, you’re- you’re tight on my cock, baby, like a fuckin’ vice.”

“Your cock is so good,” You whine, trying to fuck yourself back on him. Your pussy is so wet that every thrust makes an audible noise, ringing throughout your room. If anyone walked past now they’d hear the debauchery, and you’re not sure you’d even care. “Fuck, Jisung- Jisung, you’re big. Please, please, more, I need more!”

“Okay, okay,” He moans, and then his hips speed up. His balls slap against your asshole with every thrust, his cock pistoning into you at a pace that has you wailing. The headboard slams against the wall. “Oh, fuckin’- baby, this puusssy.”

“It feels so good. Your cock is stretching me out so good, baby-“

“Fuck, wait,” He whines, pulling out sharply. When you look down between his legs his cock is painfully hard, and his pubic hair is drenched with you. The sight makes you even more eager to get him back inside of you, but Jisung grabs the base of his cock tightly, his chest heaving. “I- I’ll cum if you talk like that. Fuck, this is so embarrassing!”

“I want you to cum,” You insist, leaning up on your elbows. Your pussy is still leaking steadily onto your bedsheets, and you make grabby hands at your boy to try and get him back inside of you. “You made me cum so good in your mouth, Sungie, c’mon. Make yourself cum with my pussy.”

“Oh my God,” He moans, eyes half lidded, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re dirty. My fucking dream, holy shit.”

He leans over you once more, pushing his cock inside of you. It slides back in easily with another wet noise, and you moan, smiling with delight. “Mm, fuck this pussy, baby, c’mon.”

“I- fuck, okay,” He keens, nodding. His teeth bite into his lower lip almost painfully, and you kiss his neck while he starts to fuck into you again. With a quick reposition you let your thighs fall apart and further back, and his cock starts to hit your g-spot incessantly. He pulls away from you, head lolling into your neck. His breaths fan over your skin, hot and heavy. “You’re so wet, why are you- how are you so wet, baby? This pussy, fucking- I’m gonna cum. I’m so close, I’m so close, please-“

The shred of logic has left your brain. His cock feels so good, thick and pressing inside of you. You have to let him do it. “Baby. Baby, do y’wanna- I’m on the pill, baby,” You say, breathless. His pace stops, hips halting, and he makes a confused noise. “Cum inside. Creampie this hole, Sungie, I know you want to.”

“Oh my fucking- baby? My baby, can I?” He wails, head pulling up to look at you. You catch sight of tears brewing in his eyes, glassy and unshed. “Baby, please, I’m gonna cum, please, where-? Baby?”

“Inside of me, Sungie,” You wrap your legs around him, pulling him inside of you, deep. You know he could get out of it if he wanted to, but he doesn’t, hips starting to pick up inside of you again. It’s fast, desperate and he keens, nodding. “You gonna fill me up, yeah?”

“Yeah. Y-yeah, yes, oh- I’m gonna fill you up,” Jisung’s words are slurred, quiet, and you let him fuck into you over and over. With a sharp noise, his hips slow once more, and you feel a rush of additional wetness inside of you. It’s warm, and you run your fingers through his hair while he fucks his cum inside of you. “Fuck. Baby, you’re so good to me, so good. Lettin’ me breed your cunt, and- and- oh. I’m still-“

He’s still cumming. It floods out of his cock and into your pussy steadily, and you giggle, feeling sated. Your delighted state of mind only lasts a second, because he pulls out sharply and wiggles down on the bed, attaching his mouth to your cunt. He’s eating his own cum out of you.

“Oh! Oh, Jisung, you’re- you’re dirty, Sungie, ah-“ You whine, fingers moving to his hair again. He licks you over and over until you’re wailing with it, your own tears brimming in your eyes from the overstimulation. Your hole feels stretched, a feeling you’re sure you could get used to, and you shake through a second orgasm.

Jisung’s quick to lean over you again, and then his thumb moves to your chin. He opens your mouth firmly, spitting your combined release into your mouth, and you moan, letting him press his tongue between your lips afterwards.

It’s messy and you let him kiss you for a bit, slow, languid, passionate kisses that have your core almost throbbing for more, if you weren’t so satisfied. Jisung’s soft cock presses against your tummy, wet with your combined arousal, and then he flops down next to you with a huff.

“God, I could go again,” He admits, hand running through his sweat mussed hair. When you turn to him, he’s grinning from ear to ear, and you giggle. He looks at you with a satisfied expression. “You’re the best. That was literally like, the best thing I’ve ever felt in my life. Even more than when I win some fight against an alien, or something.”

“Alien?” You ask, and then you remember. “Oh, yeah. Kinda forgot about that.”

“You forgot about me saving your life?!” He shrieks, thrashing around on the bed in a tantrum. “Seriously, if I wasn’t in love with you I would- ah. Oh.”

You blanch, blinking at him. It’s easy to ignore that you’re both naked when he’s just dropped a bombshell on you like that, and you let out a giggle. “That was sweet. I’m in love with you too, for the record.”

You’re attacked in a flurry of kisses, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re sure Han Jisung intrigues you just as much as his superhero alterego does, so it’s easy to accept.

CBINI’S 2024 KINKTOBER

it’s that time again! 🎃🦇🍂👻 i will be doing my own little version of kinktober this year! the fic warnings i have listed are the barebones tags - you’ll get full warnings as i post each fic! :) i hope you’re all as excited as i am; let’s get BATTY!!!!!

༺🕸️༻❀༺🕸️༻ ༺🕸️༻❀༺🕸️༻ ༺🕸️༻❀༺🕸️༻

october 1st

THE HOUSE : introduction

꒷꒦꒷ warnings: none at the moment

october 3rd

THE DRYAD : bang chan

꒷꒦꒷ warnings: dryad!chan, sex in the woods, unprotected sex, more tba…

october 7th

THE STATUE : lee minho

꒷꒦꒷ warnings: garden statue!minho, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, more tba…

october 10th

THE MERMAID : seo changbin

꒷꒦꒷ warnings: mermaid!changbin, lake sex, unprotected sex, more tba…

october 14th

THE ELVEN WARRIOR : hwang hyunjin

꒷꒦꒷ warnings: elf!hyunjin, bathtub sex, unprotected sex, more tba…

october 17th

THE PHANTOM : han jisung

꒷꒦꒷ warnings: ghost!jisung, mirror sex, unprotected sex, more tba…

october 21st

THE SLUMBERING PRINCE : lee felix

꒷꒦꒷ warnings: sleeping beauty!felix, somnophilia, unprotected sex, more tba…

october 24th

THE DEMON : kim seungmin

꒷꒦꒷ warnings: sleep paralysis demon!seungmin, temporary paralysis, unprotected sex, more tba…

october 28th

THE DRAGON : yang jeongin

꒷꒦꒷ warnings: dragon!jeongin, temperature play, unprotected sex, more tba…

october 31st

THE SURPRISE : finale

꒷꒦꒷ warnings: none at the moment. i do have an idea that i like for this, but i’m open to suggestions!! if you have any ideas you think would be fun and fit the themes, please send them to my ask box! the asks won’t be posted since it’s a surprise.

Suit Dance (18+)

♡ Pairing: CEO!Changbin x Office Siren!Reader

♡ Genre: office au, smut, porn with some plot, rich & sexy ceo trope but make him Subby™

♡ Word Count: 7.8k

♡ Summary: In which you discover that your ever strong and stoic looking boss wears dainty, pretty lingerie underneath his tailored suits.

♡ Warnings: hyunjin featured briefly as reader's office bestie, mild play fighting and 1 joke about strangling him

♡ Smut Warnings: uneven power dynamics (due to boss x employee relationship), power play, dom/sub dynamics, sub!bin, dom!reader, vaguely plus size reader, semi-public sex, slight exhibitionism, marking (with lipstick), mommy kink, nipple play, anal plug use, referenced masturbation, spit kink, praise kink, finger sucking, fingering (m rec), tiny bit of oral (m rec) and handjob, spit as lube, teensy tiny bit of edging. this is so unrealistic lmao but it's fiction so. just take it for what it is gdfsgdf

♡ Notes: back at it again with a self indulgent bin fic! written purely because i saw these pics on twitter and was immediately struck with the vision of changbin wearing it instead lmao and while i read a lot of fics involving anal play, this is my first foray into writing it myself so sorry if it isn't the best :')

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Throwing your hands up and over your head, you let out a soft noise of relief as you stretch, eager to return home and relax after a stressful week at the office.

Your manager has been on your ass the entire week about making sure your quarterly finance report is without flaw. “Mr. Seo has business ventures lined up that require an accurate reflection of the company’s spending and receiving of funds,” she repeatedly drilled into you– as if that isn’t always the case.

You don’t know what all goes into striking a deal and fostering a successful business partnership, really– you’re just paid to reflect the numbers, so that’s what you do; and you’ve never submitted a flawed report. Still, while you’re used enough to staring at numbers on a screen and inputting them into a balance sheet, scanning them extra carefully all week has really put a strain on your eyes.

You remove your glasses, toss them next to your keyboard and close your eyes as another sigh passes your lips. You slouch in your chair, rolling away from your desk ever so slightly as your legs stretch out. You can’t wait to sink into a bath once you get back to your apartment, maybe have a glass of wine to unwind while watching some trashy reality tv over dinner.

“Uh– Y/N?” a voice calls, and you shoot up in your seat, stiffening your posture– you relax when your brain finishes registering that it’s just Hyunjin. If it was your manager, Mrs. Kim, she surely would’ve ripped you a new one for slouching at work, the strict harpy that she is. 

“Hey, sorry! Were you waiting up for me?” you ask as you scoot back over to your desk and grab your glasses to put back on. Hyunjin was one of the few coworkers you got along with beyond the expected professional level, so the two of you often chatted on your way out of the building. He was also Mr. Seo’s personal receptionist, and you envied that he got to stare at such perfection all day.

Mr. Seo is hot– really hot. All professionalism and sex appeal, with his perfectly styled dark hair and expertly tailored suits hugging his thick arms. You don’t cross paths with him as often as you'd like, stuck to your cubicle as you are, but God, the glimpse you got of him this morning was divine.

Dressed in a dark blue suit you were certain was designer, a circular silver pin stuck in the left lapel– the company’s logo, which he always wore proudly. He had on two chains– one a pretty, mixed gold-silver resting on his collarbones, probably worth more than you make in an entire year. His other chain is pure silver and long, hung low on his chest, ending just above the first button of his stupidly beautiful suit. 

There’s no button-up or other such dress shirt worn underneath the suit– just purely bare, tanned skin. The small glimpses you got of his bare chest nearly made you drool– and when he rounded the corner to get to his office, and you got a glimpse of his tight slacks hugging his thick thighs and ass, Christ, you don’t know how you managed to keep yourself together.

You loved looking at Mr. Seo, but it was probably best for your sanity, and your work performance, that you didn’t have too much exposure to him. And it was most certainly a good thing that you weren’t his receptionist– you don’t think you’d get through the myriad of phone answering and appointment scheduling successfully if you had such eye candy in front of you for hours a day, 5 days a week.

“No, I’m just supposed to tell you that Mr. Seo wants to see you,” Hyunjin says, and you blink– once, twice, brain struggling to process what you’ve been told. Mr. Seo wants to see you? You think you’re going to combust on the spot from just the thought alone of having a personal meeting with him.

“D-Do you know why?” you question with an embarrassing stutter that you hope Hyunjin will ignore. “Nope, he just asked me to let you know to see him before I leave for the weekend,” he replies and you swallow, nerves suddenly threatening to eat you alive.

And it's not just because you’ll be alone with someone you’ve been thirsting after for months. The most pressing issue is that even putting your attraction to Mr. Seo aside, he is still very much your boss, even if he doesn't often personally oversee your work.

You emailed him your report just moments ago, so surely he hasn’t had the chance to look through the whole thing yet.. Fuck, what if there’s a mistake right at the start? You’d be mortified– and surely it’d be grounds enough to fire you given how vital this report is to his upcoming business plans. 

Hyunjin sees the apprehension and can’t help but giggle as he reassures you. “Relax! He seemed like he was in a good mood, I’m sure it’s nothing bad. Trust me, I’ve seen Mr. Seo angry, and he’s definitely not right now. Maybe you’re finally getting that raise you’ve been gunning for.”

You appreciate Hyunjin’s positive input, but you doubt that– if it was a raise, you’d be having a discussion about it with HR and your manager, as you have every time before; someone as high brass as Mr. Seo simply doesn’t have the time to talk to every person receiving a raise individually. A promotion..? Same situation– the decision for you to receive one is his, but you doubted he would see you personally over it.

That’s what your manager is for, after all– Mrs. Kim is essentially his mouthpiece, having discussions about these things with you and overseeing your duties herself so that Mr. Seo can put more of his focus on keeping the business going in the direction he wants. Still, Hyunjin said he doesn’t seem to be upset, so.. 

Maybe it is something good! Maybe your manager and the head of HR have been called to his office too, and you’ll all discuss an appropriate reward for all the effort you’ve been putting in. Maybe you can squeeze in a deal for more vacation time too, if you’re lucky. 

"Or maybe he found out about all your dirty fantasies about him, and now he's calling you to his office to–” Hyunjin starts, and you bolt up from your chair, swiftly shutting him up with a smack to the arm. “Oh my god, stop! Shut up!” you cry as he simply laughs, swatting away the hand you slap him with.

“Should I still wait for you?” he asks when the giggling subsides, and you quickly shake your head as you turn back to your desk to start shoveling your belongings in your bag. “Nah, I don’t wanna keep you waiting if the talk goes on long. I’ll see you on Monday! ..hopefully,” you mutter the last word as you pick up your bag, still not entirely sold that this abrupt meeting is a positive one.

Hyunjin, being a menace to your nerves, shoots you a wink and a “good luck!” after you wish him a good weekend. You think you’ll strangle him when you see him on Monday– if you’re still lucky enough to have a job here, that is. You walk out of your cubicle block, swallowing as you step past your fellow coworkers who are all similarly readying to leave, and up to Mr. Seo’s large office door.

It’s glass, and typically he’d be able to see you apprehensively standing there waiting, but the blinds are currently pulled closed. Should you knock? He’s expecting you, but all of a sudden you aren’t sure how to act– the last thing you want to do is be impolite. Still, maybe it’d be worse to keep him waiting– his time is extremely valuable, after all. So tentatively, you knock on the black frame of the door.

“Come in,” you hear him call out, and with one more breath to steel your nerves, you take the knob into your hands and open the door. And fuck, he’s alone– your manager and the head of HR are nowhere in sight. You’re going to have a solo meeting with Mr. Seo. God, please help me, you cry internally as you take a careful step inside, the door closing behind you with a soft click. 

“You wanted to see me, Sir?” you do your best to keep your voice steady as you look at him, pensively standing no more than a few inches away from the door. You’ve never been more nervous in your entire life– and when he looks up from the papers on his desk to address you, your heart nearly stops; he’s just too gorgeous.

“Don’t just stay by the door, please, come in,” he reiterates, motioning for you to come further into the room and take a seat at his desk with his hand. Again you swallow, taking small steps away from the glass door, your heels clacking on the sleek wood with each step.

His office is so luxurious– and you’re certain it’s bigger than your entire apartment. Floor to ceiling windows that take up the entire wall behind him and show the impressive expanse of the city, the sky turning a darker shade of blue as the sun disappears behind the other skyscrapers. Impressive bookshelves full top to bottom, with not just books but awards he's won throughout his life, as well as decorative art pieces.

He has well cared for plants in every corner, two sofas for additional seating, and a chandelier that rivals any you’ve ever seen in its extravagance. There’s a large rug underneath his desk and the opposite chairs, and your heels quiet as you step on it, carefully pulling one of the chairs back to sit.

It’s comfortable, the same shade of rich mahogany as his desk, and you practically sink into it. Despite that, you do your best to keep a good posture after setting your bag on the opposite chair; sitting up straight, hands folded in your lap as you cross one leg over the other.

Your skirt squeezes against your thighs in this position, but you’d rather be caught dead than have an informal posture in front of the CEO of your company. He’s looking at his papers again, and heat, as well as apprehension, spreads through your body when he looks up at you once more– but mostly, it’s heat; how and why is he so attractive? 

You’re so rarely given the opportunity to be this close to Mr. Seo– and there’s still a large desk between you that gives you a fair amount of distance, but you’re able to drink him in much more than you usually can. His eyes, that normally appear quite piercing and stern, are always much softer up close– all of his features are soft, really. 

Round cheeks, soft nose, defined chin that somehow isn’t harsh in appearance despite how sculpted he is. His lips are so pink, look so soft and plush, in the prettiest pouty shape. Cute, handsome, pretty, sexy– he’s all of it in one package. You want him bad.

Mr. Seo has expensive-looking round earrings on that you realize you failed to notice earlier, perfectly matching his necklaces. A ring too, you note as he turns back to his papers to flip a page– gem black as his hair, but with the same silver as the rest of his jewelry encircling it. He’s so stylish– it’s almost enough to make you salivate with desire.

It’s almost astonishing how you can still thirst for him while this concerned over your livelihood– but he’s so undeniably handsome and perfect that you just can’t seem to help it. If this ends up being your last day here, you don’t think it’s the money you’ll miss the most– it’ll most definitely be seeing Mr. Seo in all his impressive glory.

Finally, he holds out the tiny, stapled stack of papers in his hand to you, gesturing for you to take them to look at. “Mrs. Kim went over this with you, correct? You recognize it?” he asks, watching you carefully as you run your eyes over the top page. “This is my review from last quarter..?” you say, an air of uncertainty in your voice. Fuck. You really are getting fired. 

“Did I make a mistake since then? Do something wrong?” you question, doing your best not to fall into your anxious habit of chewing on your bottom lip. It’s also taking everything in you not to start unloading a string of apologies over the finance report you emailed him, convinced by this point that you suffered a major performance dip and sent him a report chock full of mistakes. 

Even at his angriest, Mr. Seo never grilled or chewed out his employees– but you almost think the look of sincere disappointment he’d give you before firing you would be worse than the anger. “No, don't worry! The opposite, actually,” he reassures you, so sweetly and genuinely that it sends you reeling.

The relief that should come with realizing you aren't being fired or scolded doesn't even hit you, because all your brain latches on to is how beautiful his smile is. Negative or positive, you come to the conclusion that this will be the most difficult meeting of your life– he’s just too stunning; your poor heart can’t take it.

“I realized that a mistake was made in regards to your raise– you actually should’ve been given more. It is not my intent to undercut the value of my employees, and I sincerely apologize for the error,” Mr. Seo stands to bow to you, and the axis of your world tilts further off balance. Mr. Seo, the most successful man you’ve ever known, whose net worth is easily millions upon millions of won, is bowing to you? 

“Your work is always done diligently and accurately, and it keeps my business going smoothly– and to make up for the error, I’d also like to offer you a bonus on top of immediately rectifying your salary. A sum that is equal to what you would’ve received these past few months had your raise been accurately relayed and processed sooner.” 

Wait. Wait, wait, wait. It’s true that you were upset when your raise was only a few measly cents, but you assumed that was intentional, that you just needed to work harder– and surely, the mistake isn’t Mr. Seo’s fault. If anything, it’s definitely your harpy of a manager Mrs. Kim's doing– she should be the one groveling at your feet. The fact that he’s even apologizing to you for it is insane. In what world does it make sense for him to grovel to and appease you? 

You suppose it isn’t just his business smarts that make him such a good CEO, but his ability to take responsibility like this, and his genuine care for the members of his team. But that’s not even what’s at the forefront of your mind anymore– what has really captured your focus is the glimpse of pretty, white lace you see peeking out under his suit, deliciously hugging his pecs.

Surely this isn’t real– you must’ve fallen asleep at your desk, and are having a fever dream from the stress of the week. Surely Mr. Seo isn’t actually wearing lingerie underneath his suit, right? That would be crazy– not even in your wildest fantasies would you ever be met with such a sinfully delectable sight.

He doesn’t smooth out or adjust his suit nearly enough when he rises back up, and the edges of the intricate lace continue to peek out from behind his lapels. Your eyes stay transfixed on it, the urge to drool over Mr. Seo the strongest it’s ever been as every subsequent word he says goes straight through one ear and out the other. 

You lick over your drying lips, swallow thickly, unable to focus on anything but the entrancing visage of pure white lace squeezing his muscles. Your body was already running hot just from being in his presence, but now it feels like a furnace, mind racing as you consider how much more lace there is beneath his suit. 

How much skin does it cover? How little? And maybe if you were paying more attention to literally any part of him besides the lace on his pecs, you would’ve noticed the shiver that traveled through his body after he stood back up right, or the slight flush to his cheeks. 

He thinks you did notice from the way you stare at him, but then he realizes your gaze is focused solely on one specific place– his chest. Even without glancing down at himself, he realizes what caught your attention– it causes his cheeks to flush a deeper pink, an awkward cough leaving him as he finally rights his suit, and obscures the lace beneath it.

Lace out of sight, your trance is broken, and your eyes return to Mr. Seo’s face. You’ve never, absolutely never, seen him so red and timid. “Uh, I–” he starts, but for perhaps the first time in his professional life, he is left at an utter loss for words. “J-Just– pretend you didn’t see that, please,” he quickly mumbles a moment later as he returns to sitting in his chair, hoping you once again fail to notice the way he shivers when he’s sat. 

You’re both professionals– surely you can move on from this and go on as if nothing happened without making things around the office awkward. No, you think immediately– you know you’ll never be able to scrub the delectable image of lace over his toned, honeyed skin out of your brain; it’s already rooted itself much too deeply. 

Except when you watch his eyes widen before his brows furrow, you realize you accidentally said “no” audibly. “..No?” he questions, and you already know you’ve dug yourself into a hole; but you can’t take it back now that it’s been said, so you may as well commit. “I mean– it was very pretty, Sir. You’re very pretty. I don’t think I can forget about it.” 

He blinks, blush slowly crawling its way to his ears as the information soaks in. And though it’s certainly grounds for a swift and stern dismissal in ordinary circumstances, he entertains the compliment, workplace code of conduct be damned. “You think I’m pretty?” he questions, and it almost makes you laugh. Is water wet? Is the sky blue? Is grass green? Yes, he’s pretty!

“With all due respect, I thought that was obvious, Sir,” you answer, surprising even yourself with how forward a statement it is– never in a million years did you think you’d admit how attractive you think Mr. Seo is to his face. “Obvious that I’m pretty, or obvious that you think so?” he tilts his head as he asks, and smiles– one that is as shy as it is devastatingly charming. 

To see him smile at you in such a way sends a whirlwind of emotions through you, the most potent of them being desire. There’s an eager glint in his eyes, one that you’re sure you match– maybe even surpass. You’re self aware enough to realize your ogling of him when he walks in a room is noticeable– it wouldn’t surprise you if he’d been aware of it all this time.

And maybe, just maybe, he too has been waiting for an opportunity like this to present itself. Maybe he likes the way you stare at him with pure, unfiltered want. Maybe the tight blouses and skirts you wear make him crazy, always hugging your curves just right. Maybe his skin runs hot when he sees red lipstick stains lingering behind on your coffee mug, imagining that same mark covering every inch of his body.

He shouldn’t feel this way, he knows, he’s your boss for God’s sake– but he’s also only human; and he can’t keep resisting the call of you, the veritable siren in his office. How many more of those dark gazes of lust behind your thick, rectangular glasses is he supposed to be able to take? How many more times is he supposed to pretend he doesn’t notice the way you bite your lip as you look him over? 

Truthfully, it was an accident that you saw the lace decorating him beneath his suit– but he can’t find it within himself to complain about it. Unintentional though it certainly was, he finds himself eager to take this opportunity to pursue you. Reason and responsibility lost, he follows his deepest, most base desires– he wants to indulge your hunger for him, wants to let you consume him, body and soul. 

“Can’t both be true?” you ask as you toss the report he handed you aside and inch yourself closer to the desk, all sense of timidity within you evaporating now that he’s entertaining your blatant desire for him. “I think you’re well aware you’re pretty. I think you know you make everyone crazy,” you rest your elbows on the desk, leaning forward as you speak, “I think you know everyone wants you.”

You offer Mr. Seo your prettiest grin as you watch him swallow, his eyes traveling down to your blouse, where the top most buttons lie undone and offer him an enticing view of your cleavage. “A-And you– you want me?” he asks, slowly directing his gaze back up to your eyes; a question that is perhaps silly at this point, but that he wants the verbal confirmation of regardless.

“May I be forward, Sir?” you ask, gauging how deep his interest in you really runs, how honest you’re truly allowed to be about your desire. Your smile grows when he utters a rather meek yet eager “yes” in response. “I’ve always wanted you, from the very first moment I saw you,” you tell him candidly, “I want to kiss you, I want to touch you, and I want to see what other pretty things you have underneath your suit.”

“I-I see,” he says shakily, very nearly squirming in his seat from how intently you stare at him, the burning desire you have for him palpable. The tension is strong, and now it’s up to him to release it– with just a word, the dam holding you both back will break, the fervorous flood of lust all consuming; and despite how much he shouldn’t, it’s all he wants. 

“Kiss me, please,” his plea comes out in an airy lilt; conceding to his desires, he surrenders all of himself to the irresistible temptation. You rise from your chair, round the desk to approach him, and he watches in breathless anticipation. The few steps it takes to reach him feel so impossibly slow, and his heart feels like it’s thundering in his chest; he can even feel the sweat building on his brow as he waits for you to finally touch him after all this time. 

Placing your hand on the top of his chair, you push it, making him swivel to face you. His breath catches in his throat as he stares up at you, eyes swimming with need. Your fingertips just barely brush over the bit of bare chest peeking through the v-line of his lapels, but it’s enough to send goosebumps over his heated skin.

You hook your finger into his long, silver chain, tug on it just enough to urge him to lean up to meet you. He shivers as he shifts in his seat, has to suppress the whine that threatens to rise from his throat when your lips just barely touch his, a phantom of a feeling left behind. And make no mistake, you want him bad– but you don’t want to rush; you’ve wanted this for too long to do anything but relish in having him in your grasp.

When you return to him, you press your lips to the corner of his mouth instead of kissing him directly, leaving the prettiest trace of lipstick behind. And even despite the ardency he feels to have you, he makes no move to hurry you along; because when you finally kiss him, full and deep, it makes all the build up worth it– it’s true bliss, countless butterflies dancing in his stomach.

And truly, you intended to keep kissing him slowly– but now that you’ve felt his perfectly soft and full lips against your own, your restraint begins to evaporate. You wanted to take your time, to indulge in the sensation– but when you lick over his lips, and he eagerly allows you entrance into his mouth, you get the impression that he can’t hold himself back from his desires either. 

The kisses quickly grow messy, your hands urgently popping open the buttons of his suit. You’re trying to be careful to not rip the buttons off, knowing very well how expensive his clothes must be– but even if you did completely ruin it, he wouldn’t have found it within himself to care. He can buy a new suit, doesn’t give a shit about how much it’d cost– your lips and hands on him are far more important.

Buttons successfully undone, you push the suit off his shoulders, and he quickly pulls his arms out of the sleeves, freeing himself from the fabric. You pull away from the kiss, bring your hand to his face, trace your thumb over your lipstick lingering on his lips and further smear it over his skin. It’s a dark red, pretty mess, starkly contrasting the dainty elegance of white lace hugging his body below.

“You’re beautiful, Mr. Seo,” you breathe, utterly mesmerized by the sight of him. You trace your fingers over the scalloped edges of the lace on his chest, follow it down until it stops just above his stomach. It covers his arms as well, up to the edges of his deltoids. The bulk of muscle beneath looks so tantalizing– it’s positively mouth watering.

“Changbin,” he speaks up, and you look at him curiously, a slight smile playing on your lips. Of course, you know it's his name– it’d be astonishing if you didn’t know your boss’ full name; you’re just pleasantly surprised he wants to drop the formalities. “Call me Changbin, please– o-or Bin, or Binnie! I– I’d like that more.”

“Of course, Binnie,” you smile sweetly as you call his name, and though it’s such a simple indulgence, it makes his cock throb in his slacks. You can see it, hard and straining against the tight fabric– you’re positive it’s uncomfortable, thick as he seems to be. You run your fingers over his belt, tracing the buckle. He watches with labored breaths, trying not to squirm in his seat from the anticipation.

“What’s my name?” you suddenly ask him, and he says it in a question, brows slightly furrowing– do you think he doesn’t remember it? He pouts as he waits for you to speak again, and you giggle ever so slightly before you do. “Mhm, but what do you want it to be?” you ask and oh, fuck– you’re asking what title he wants to call you by, he realizes.

“A-Ahh, uhm–” Changbin hesitates, swallows the lump in his throat, face burning as you look him over expectantly. Fuck, everything about this situation is so unreal– but if he’s already come this far with you, why shouldn’t he allow himself further indulgences? Why not give in to what his deepest desires are?

“M-Mommy, you’re– you’re my mommy,” he finally forces the words out, face and ears positively on fire as he waits for your reaction. Oh, that’s what he likes? Your smile grows, and you sweetly caress his face, enjoying the feeling of heat radiating off his cheeks.

“Binnie needs his mommy to take care of him, doesn’t he?” your question makes him whine, nodding his head in a shameless, eager display. He’s so unbearably hot, his erection strains against his tight pants, his skin tingles as you trail your hand back down to his chest– he wants and wants and wants. Touch him everywhere, kiss him everywhere, talk to him sweetly as you go– he needs it.

Very little lipstick remains on your lips after all the kissing you’ve done, but the last traces of it end up on his neck, trailing downwards as you kiss and lick every inch of skin you come in contact with. You run your hands over his torso, squeezing him from the bulk of his arms to the soft edges of his waist, delighting in the soft, breathy whines and moans you pull from him. 

You return to his lips at the same time your fingers find his nipples, and he mewls into your mouth as he squirms, the sensation of your tugs and pinches through the lace almost overwhelming. No, it is overwhelming– but he likes it too much to ask you to do any different. And the more you play with his nipples, the squirmier he gets, his hands harshly gripping the armrest of his chair in an effort to ground himself. 

You fall to your knees, and he watches breathlessly as you press kisses over his pecs until you eventually reach one of his perked nipples. He keens when you take it in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it over the lace. He gasps when you suck on it, his nails trying their best to dig into the unyielding leather cushioning his armrest. 

“Does my Binnie like having his nipples played with like this?” you ask before you run your tongue over this other one. He whines, writhing in place as you resume pinching and tugging on the one that was just in your mouth, the lace now soaked with your saliva adding even more to the delicious friction. 

“L-Like it– like it so much, mama,” he finally answers in a shudder, voice squeaky and high pitched. He gasps when you graze your teeth over his nipple, head falling back and another loud moan drawing out of him when you gently bite it. He’s so sensitive, can’t stop himself from shivering and squirming under your diligent touch.

He moans again when you lean up to kiss him, your hand traveling down and down, until your hand reaches his belt again. “Will you take these off for me?” you ask, tugging ever so slightly on the buckle. You could do it yourself, of course, but you like the idea of watching him undress himself for you– and from the way he eagerly nods, you conclude that he likes the idea too. 

You smile at him before you rise back up to your feet and you take a step away from him, resting yourself comfortably against his desk while you wait for him to start. He glances at his door first– he knows it’s unlocked, but the blinds are drawn closed, at least; even if someone heard him, they hadn’t seen anything happening in the room. 

He looks at his windows next– tall and expansive, not a single curtain in sight; the view it affords him is normally well worth the lack of privacy curtains would provide, but when he considers how naked he’s about to be in front of them, it makes his heart race faster. But you’re so high up– surely, no one from the street will see anything.

And if someone from the skyscrapers sitting opposite of his building happens to see, well.. He supposes he’ll just have to hope they enjoy the show they’ll be receiving. Changbin rises from his chair, and with trembling hands he fumbles with his belt, doing his best to unbuckle it quickly. Once done, he proceeds with undoing the button of his slacks and pulling down the zipper. 

Given how tight his slacks are, they don’t fall down his legs just because the button has been undone and the zipper has been pulled down– he has to make a purposeful effort to remove them. He glances at you, notes how intently you watch him, ready and eager to see all of him– and that desire you harbor for him encourages him to go beyond the shyness that grips him. 

Pulling them down over the swell of his ass, the first sight you’re met with is more white lace, perfectly matching the top he still has on. Your heart feels like it’s positively going to burst from the view of his cock– short but impossibly thick, pressed down by dainty lace, leaking pre-cum and turning the otherwise pure white translucent.

Your breathing grows more labored just looking at it, and God, as if you weren’t already on the brink of drooling over him before– you absolutely need his cock in your mouth. But still, there’s more for you to see– so you sit patiently, swallowing as you wait for him to keep undressing himself for you. 

He has to bend over to pull his pants down his thighs, and his blush darkens when he notices you quite blatantly leaning to the side to look at his ass from his peripheral. There’s a glimpse of something shiny between his cheeks under the lace, and it makes you gasp with surprised delight. Changbin himself closes his eyes, trying not to let out a flustered whine when he realizes you’ve noticed it. 

A plug rests inside him, shiny steel with a pretty pink gem in the center in the shape of a heart. Has he had it inside all day? The thought makes you dizzy– and suddenly all the times he’d shivered after moving makes sense. “Gosh, wearing this to work– you’re so dirty Binnie,” you muse happily, and he whines, wishing for nothing more than to cover his face behind his hands. 

Though it’s obvious by this point that you like it, he’s hesitant to meet your gaze after stepping out of his slacks and standing back upright. But you can’t have that– so you grab his face, making him turn to you. “You’re so sexy, it’s unbelievable,” you tell him before you kiss him again, and he easily melts into it, nerves evaporating with your lips back on his.

Changbin can’t help being shy, but your desire for him makes it more bearable to push through– and the more you kiss him, the more floaty he feels. You reach behind, blindly and hastily shove everything off his desk before you turn him around, and guide him to sit on it. Neither of you pay any mind to the loud clatter the objects make hitting the floor, or of how mixed up any unstapled papers he had there will become– you’re much too absorbed in the feeling of one another.

You instruct him to lean back when you pull away from kissing him, and he listens in a heartbeat, tipping himself back on his desk. He props himself on his elbows, watches as you bring your hand to his cock, still contained by lace panties. He gasps when you squeeze it through the fabric, whines when you trail your fingers further down and press on the plug still nestled between his cheeks.

“What were you prepping for, hmm? Tell mommy about it,” you say, and again he squirms as he tries to speak, the blush on his face flaring. “I-I– Binnie was gonna–” he stumbles on his words, voice quivering, and he has to close his eyes to try to focus on getting what he wants to say out effectively. 

Waking up this morning feeling naughty, he knew he wanted to fuck himself– got himself ready bright and early, so that by the time he got home tonight he’d be nicely stretched and ready for his favorite dildo. He was going to suction it to the floor, ride it while he fisted his cock with one hand and tug on his nipples with the other, close his eyes and imagine it was someone else sweetly playing with him. 

The lingerie was to make him feel pretty– and looking at himself in the mirror before pulling his suit on, he really felt he was; he was giddy with the feeling of being sexy and cute simultaneously. He liked knowing it was there under his suit, liked feeling the lace against his skin, liked how much it contrasted the rest of his physique. 

He’s trying to tell you as much, knows even without seeing your face how expectantly you’re waiting to hear it– but he struggles embarrassingly, because he can feel your hand stroking his cock over his panties. All he can do with his eyes closed is focus on the sensation your hand grants him– so he opens his eyes again, forcing himself to keep eye contact with you as he speaks.

“A-Ahh– Binnie was gonna– gonna fuck himself,” he admits, trying not to whine from the way you pleasantly coo and smile at him. “Mommy can fuck you,” you tell him sweetly, and God, he feels like he could cum from the words alone. “Would you like that? Want my fingers to fill you up?” you ask, and he nods so fast it almost makes him dizzy.

“Yes! Please, please, fuck me, need it so bad, please–” he begs, and you coo at him as your fingers slip under his panties, once again finding the plug he has nestled inside. He lifts his legs, holds himself under the knees to make your task easier– and it’s effort on his muscles, but what has he spent so much time building them up for if not this? 

“You’re ready for me to take it out?” you ask, watching him carefully– he certainly seems eager enough, but you don’t want there to be any unpleasant surprises. “Ready, ‘m ready, do it please,” Changbin pleads, desperate to feel you inside– he wants it, needs it, more than he feels he can vocalize; but he’d certainly try his best if you asked him to. 

You kiss him sweetly, shove his lace panties to the side as much as you can manage too and swallow his whines as you slowly and carefully pull the plug out of his hole. You put it on his desk, but it rolls right off, hitting the floor with a dull thud– not that he cares about it right now; he’ll retrieve it later. All he can think about is how empty he feels now, but how deliciously your fingers will replace the feeling, and make him full again. 

He prepped himself well, was diligent in his use of lube– but you still want to get your fingers plenty wet and slick before you try to slide them in. He watches you bring two of your fingers to your mouth, utterly mesmerized by the way they disappear into your mouth, how shiny they are with your saliva when you pull them out. 

You spit on them too for good measure when you’re finished coating them, and he licks his lips as he stares at your fingers– again, he wants, wants, wants. You notice it, of course you do– the blatant yearning in his gaze, how he licks his parted lips once more, how he practically drools as he stares.

“Want to help me get them wet, sweet boy? Want them in your mouth?” you smile as you ask, amusedly tilting your head. “Or was it me spitting on them that you liked? Should I spit on you too?” “Both, please, want both,” he answers in a hurry, utterly shameless. “Is that so?” you ask with a grin that sends a shiver down the length of his spine.

“Open your mouth for me Binnie, show me your tongue,” you instruct, and he complies obediently, opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue for you. He moans when you spit on it, and again when you press your wet fingers into his mouth. He closes his lips around them, diligently swirls his tongue around your digits before he sucks.

He gags when you press them in further, the tips of your fingers brushing against the back of his throat. His eyes water, saliva pools in his mouth and dribbles down the corners, and it’s so utterly entrancing that you just have to praise him. “So good for me, Binnie’s such a good boy,” you coo, and he keens as he quickly nods his head, as if to say ‘I am! I’m a good boy for you!’

Changbin almost wants to whine when you slip your fingers out of his mouth, but then you slide your slicked fingers over his waiting hole, and all he can do is gasp and whimper. “Mommy’s gonna fuck you now,” you tell him, voice so saccharine it makes his head spin– he still can’t believe this is really happening, but he’s so happy that it is. 

He jolts when you easily slide two of your fingers inside, his cock twitching against the lace panties still holding it down. There’s very little resistance thanks to the plug that was in prior and how slick he and your fingers are, but you still take it slow, carefully watching him for discomfort. Ultimately, you sense none– all he feels his pleasure, licking over every inch of his body.

“Look at you, you take it so well,” you praise as you watch your fingers disappear into his hole, and he whines as he watches with you. He whimpers loud and pretty when you curl your fingers into his spot, his head falling back as he bites his lip. He’s trembling all over, he’s seeing stars behind his closed eyes, he can hardly breathe when you start to thrust your fingers expertly in and out.

“Feels good, Binnie?” you ask him, and God, it’s so hard to speak like this, but he does his best for you. “F-Feels so– so good, mama, Binnie feels so good,” he cries, jolting again when you spit on his hole, adding more to the wetness so you can easily add a third finger. His breath catches in his throat when it’s fully inside, his eyes rolling back as he gasps and moans.

Your eyes travel to his cock, twitching and throbbing where it lies neglected, pre-cum still steadily leaking from the tip. You stop moving your fingers for just a moment, sink to your knees and lick at his cock over the lace still containing it. “O-Oh, mommy– oh my God–” he gasps as he lifts his head back up to look at you. 

It’s such a dirty sight, and he can hardly handle the way you stare back at him through your glasses. His back bows off the desk when you start moving your fingers again, that moan that follows obscenely pornographic. He feels so hot, body trembling, thighs twitching– he’s already so, so close. “‘m gonna cum,” he whines his warning, his hands desperately grabbing at his desk as he feels his orgasm build deep in his stomach, “Please, can I? L-Let me cum, please mama–”

He whines when you stop, his impending orgasm ebbing away as you rise back to your feet. You grab his face, make him look at you before you resume the motion of your fingers– and when you squeeze his cheeks, he knows what to do. He opens his mouth for you, sticks out his tongue, obedient and eager. 

He moans when you spit on it, swallows it like the good boy he is and opens his mouth for more after. “You’re so dirty,” you comment, letting go of his face to slip your hand into his panties, and wrap your hand around his cock. You spit in his mouth once more, now fisting his cock to the same rhythm of your fingers thrusting inside and hitting his spot. 

His eyes roll back as he swallows it all, a steady stream of whimpers leaving as his toes curl. “Mommy, I-I’m–” he trembles, release so close he isn’t sure he can hold it back; he'll try if you tell him to, but– “cum, gonna– gonna cum, please, I can’t– mama, please–”

“Let go, sweet boy, cum for me,” you urge him, and he wants to thank you– but it hits him so hard, all he can do is cry. You can continue to stroke him through it, his cum releases in thick spurts, coating your hand and soiling his panties. You don’t stop until he starts to writhe from the oversensitivity, gently releasing his cock and sliding your fingers out of him as he lies breathless against the desk. 

His eyes are closed, heart racing as he lies limp, utterly exhausted from the intensity of his orgasm. You look to the floor, find the tissue box that previously rested on his desk and grab a few to clean your hand up with, as well as gently wipe away the cum that seeps out of his panties. 

Changbin smiles at you sheepishly when you wipe the sweat from his brow, and kisses you after you help him sit back up. “Are you thirsty?” you ask him, rounding the desk to retrieve your bag from your chair. You pull out a water bottle, and he accepts it graciously, thanking you after he takes a few big sips. You both giggle when he tries to stand, but quickly realizes he’s still wobbly in the legs, so you help him get dressed too.

He can't help but give you another shy smile as you help him smooth over suit, giggling happily when you kiss him afterwards. He knows he’s still fairly debauched– after all, his face is still impossibly flushed, his skin is still running hot, and there’s lipstick marks all over him that can’t easily be wiped off with a few tissues; but he likes it. 

He just hopes that no one made the decision to pull some over time– it’d save him a lot of embarrassment leaving the building if you’re the only two left. But speaking of leaving.. “Uhm– Y/N,” he calls you timidly just as you both finish re-tidying his office, and tilt your head as you hum in question, giving him your full attention. “Will you– will you have dinner with me?” he asks, the faded blush returning when you beam a smile at him.

“For business or pleasure?” you tease him, and he huffs as you giggle. “Pleasure,” he replies meekly, hoping you’ll come home with him after; he’ll return the favor then, do everything he possibly can to make you feel as good as you made him feel. “I’d love to, Changbin,” you tell him, giving him one more kiss before you link your hand in his; and he smiles at you before you leave the building together hand in hand, with the night still young and so much more fun still to be had.

network tags: @ksmutsociety

Cute!

𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞・b.c.

— incurable playboy turned doting boyfriend was a character development arc nobody saw coming for christopher bang, including (especially) his frat brothers.

words・2.8k pairing・frat president!chris x gn!reader genres・fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, college!au, fuckboy!chris, boys being boys, kissing, implied sex so mdni warnings・substance use, talk of past heartbreak

a/n・here is "nobody believes you're dating" w/chan, requested by none other than my @rachalixie for my 2k event !! anny, i hope u love this fic as much as i love u; thank you for allowing me to write something so self-indulgent <3

In the deafening throes of one of Phi Mu Alpha’s spring kickbacks, Minho finds Jeongin and Seungmin standing in motionless silence by the kitchen counter. Both boys are gaping at something with an intensity that dips egregiously into the realm of creepy. He moves to pour himself a shot.

“What the fuck are you people looking at?”

Seungmin prods a pointer finger in the relevant direction. It takes a few seconds of scanning the scene for Minho to find what he’s referring to. He digs a knuckle into his eye, instantly confused by what he’s seeing. Maybe the gaping is justified.

The windows and doors have all been thrown open to invite the balmy April weather into the foyer of the frathouse. There’s a large crowd of people huddled around a long, foldable table stationed before the stairs; Jaehyun clutches a ping-pong ball between his fingers, singular eye squinted shut as he takes aim. The number of remaining solo cups dwindles rapidly, as does the players’ sobriety.

Something—someone—is missing.

Not to say “beer pong virtuoso” was one of the reasons Chris was elected frat president, but you’d think the guy had a career path in basketball with how he’s given the entire Greek life community alcohol poisoning by courtesy of two or three plastic balls alone. Minho has never known him to miss a shot, let alone miss out on a game.

Today, however, the reigning champion is only spectating, seated above the ongoing match on one of the steps of the main staircase.

A beautiful stranger is sitting beside him, cheek pressed to his shoulder as you peer at the match through the bannister.

You say something inaudible. The laugh it earns from Chris is bright enough to pick up from a few streets down. He leans in to murmur something in return, and you slide your hand over his nape to pull his mouth onto yours, light blush crawling up and over your ears. The way Chris melts into you can only be described as familiar, his eyes slowly fluttering shut, finger hooking delicately beneath your chin, grin going lopsided as your lips part—

“That’s enough,” Minho hisses, tearing his eyes away with considerable effort. “Aren’t you ashamed? Just fucking ogling.”

Jeongin shakes his head, grinning. “It’s dinner and a show. We’d be idiots not to.”

By dinner, he must mean the gallon of chocolate milk he’s been drinking from for the last hour. He now holds out said gallon with the intent to cheers. Seungmin picks up the entire handle and does the same.

Minho sighs, clinks his glass against theirs, and they throw back their respective refreshments in unison.

“Anywho.” Jeongin swipes the back of his hand over his mouth before going on. “You guys know who that is?”

Minho resurfaces with a wince, relishing in the bitter aftermath, then motions for Seungmin to give the bottle back straightaway. He arrived to the function late and he’s not nearly as drunk as he’d like to be.

Seungmin obliges Minho only after another heady swig. “No clue. Probably just another fling, no?”

“Mmm,” Jeongin hums in assent. “It’s Chris we’re talking about, after all.”

"Agreed. Case closed.”

There’s an air of finality in Seungmin’s voice—but Minho isn’t so sure.

Perhaps because he has never noticed that Chris had dimples until now; or because you fold so naturally into Chris' side after your kiss ends, head nuzzling against the crook of his neck and hand seeking out his to hold in your lap; or, most likely, because Chris' eyes seem to return to you when he looks at you, as if his gaze drifting anywhere else is but a momentary departure from where it really belongs. As if he comes home every time you come into his line of vision.

Whatever the reason, the idea coalesces in Minho’s mind, even as inebriation begins to fall over his cognitive faculties like a curtain, that the boys have got it wrong.

Jeongin utters his name, jolting him out of his trance. There’s another shot lifted halfway to Minho’s lips that hasn’t budged in minutes. “Whatcha thinking about?”

Minho looks at Jeongin first, Seungmin next, then back at Chris and his stunning companion. He’s not inclined to answer the question in full, but he can in truth. A coy smile crosses his face.

“Threesome?”

Jeongin laughs hard enough to collapse onto the kitchen island. Seungmin drags a hand down his face. “Come on, man.”

In the corner of his eye, you’ve gone back to kissing again, slow and sweet and secretive. Chris' gentle hold on your jaw shields you from view but fails to hide his lovesick smile. Dimly, Minho thinks that maybe his friend has met his match.

Then, he takes four shots in rapid succession—and stops thinking altogether.

Christopher Bang’s love life is like a horror movie and romcom spliced together: a fiasco of a film to which his housemates have front row seats.

The frat’s upperclassmen live in sets of four-bed, two-bath suites comprising a small common space with a kitchen and a sitting area, sandwiched by bedrooms on either side. It is in that common space that Changbin, Hyunjin, and Jisung often see or hear Chris stumbling home after a night out, entangled with a different attractive stranger every time—so often, in fact, that they’ve come to believe that he’s deathly allergic to anything bigger than a one-and-done hookup.

They can’t judge. In part because they’d be throwing stones from glass houses, but also because the man’s penchant for empty physicality is far from unfounded. His past self gave pieces of his heart to the wrong people, contracted first-degree burns from the guileless warmth he sought out. Now, his version of “intimacy” is less a connotation of closeness than it is a self-contradiction, for it should be impossible for so much distance to remain between two people in a single bed.

Chris hasn’t vocalized any of this. Nor have his housemates discussed it with each other. The knowledge simply exists in the air between the four of them like something akin to taboo, dipping in and out of acknowledgement depending on the circumstance.

This might be the circumstance of all time.

At around 11:40 A.M. on a Saturday, three doors in the suite open at once. Hyunjin and Changbin aren’t coincidence—the latter is coercing the former to go to the gym again—but they lift their eyes to the opposite side of the living room, and the slice of milk bread dangling from Hyunjin’s lips very nearly takes a fatal fall. Changbin manages to snatch it up with an extended hand.

Chris has just emerged from his room as well. Your silhouette follows close behind, your mouth stretching into a yawn as you massage the sleep from your eyes. You’re sporting a mesh green sweater identical to one Chris owns. They find Chris' accessories more interesting than his clothes, though: two hickeys peeking out from beneath his jaw and the base of his neck.

Chris sees Hyunjin and Changbin right away, and his expression goes utterly blank, not unlike their faces as they watch you close his door meticulously. You turn around and gasp.

The four of you stare at each other for what feels like multiple business days. At least, Hyunjin, Changbin, and Chris stare at each other; your eyes dart between the men on the other side of the room and the man next to you, silently pleading for him to say something. He does not for a long while.

Then, he lunges for one of the throw pillows on the couch and flings it at Hyunjin like a shot put. It ricochets off his chest and lands on the floor rather anticlimactically.

“Distraction!” Chris yells anyways, grabbing your hand and tearing towards the exit, wild grin on his face. “Go, go, go!”

Your raucous laughter lingers even after you’ve been hauled away, accompanied by an unintelligible, breathless shout of something along the lines of my toothbrush—and then the front door clicks shut, and there are two.

Changbin and Hyunjin lock eyes, struggling to process what just happened. Hyunjin is the first to move, wandering hesitantly into the bathroom that Chris and Jisung share. Nothing about the place looks out of the ordinary.

“Well, shit,” Hyunjin says out loud.

That is, aside from the two toothbrushes slotted in the holder on Chris' side of the counter.

Something moves in the bathroom window, catching his attention. Hyunjin looks over just in time to spot you and Chris dart out onto the lawn two floors below. Chris has his arm draped over your shoulders, yours wrapped around his waist. Your smile is discernible all the way from here, and Hyunjin sees a perfect mirror of it on his friend’s face when Chris glances at the frathouse over his shoulder. 

Has he always had dimples?

Moments later, Changbin joins him in peering out the window. A high-pitched cackle erupts from the older boy’s lips. “Look at that idiot.”

Standing off to the left is a tiny, astonished Han Jisung, his arms full of groceries, jaw sitting squarely the grass and whites of his eyes on full display as he watches you and Chris stroll away.

Hyunjin laughs with his whole fucking body. Changbin whips out his phone and takes a picture.

When you finally breach the topic, it’s because you don’t think you can physically study for another minute—but also because, after multiple long months of fruitless sparring, your curiosity finally wins.

Your boyfriend is seated in your desk chair, feet kicked up onto your mattress with his laptop propped up on his thighs. His features have rearranged themselves into an expression of intense focus as he pores over his production homework. You can hear music blaring through his headphones from all the way here.

You uncross your legs from below you, scootch across your bed, and lift your hands to cradle his cheeks. He startles as if coming out of a trance, then begins to smile when he reads the words hi, Channie off your lips.

His headphones fall around his neck. He sets his laptop down onto your desk with a dull thunk. The next thing to drop is you when Chris seizes you by the waist and tackles you into the mattress. The somber atmosphere of your study session is shattered by your muted laughter and Chris pressing his lips to every inch of your exposed skin he can. He saves your mouth for last.

“Hey, beautiful,” he answers, but only after kissing the living daylights out of you, the syllables soft and silky with adoration. “Missed me?”

You drag your eyes from his brown irises with blown pupils to his sloping nose, from his disheveled dark locks to his cordate lips, so plush and warm against your own that you swear you still feel them there. You brush a hand over the back of his neck, your head now spinning so badly that you barely remember what you wanted to ask him.

“Always,” you say. “I was starting to feel jealous of your homework.”

He chuckles. “Shit, I’ll drop out of college right now, baby. Just say the word.”

“You’re perfect,” you hum.

“Says you,” he murmurs, nudging the tip of his nose against yours.

Your lips find each other’s again—needless to say, your study sessions aren’t known for their productivity. Some time passes before you come up for air. Even afterwards, Chris doesn’t let you go far, pulling you into his chest by the curve of your waist, nuzzling his cheek into your hairline. You only need to whisper for him to hear your question.

“Can I ask you something?”

“'Course,” he returns, and you’re close enough to sense him tighten with apprehension. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, don’t worry.” You print a kiss to the side of his neck for extra reassurance. “It’s just…I’ve been meaning to ask how your friends feel about me.”

He tightens with something else now: surprise, you’re guessing; you’re hoping. You hadn’t seriously considered that the answer could be negative, but it’s dawning on you now that the possibility of that isn’t zero.

“Where’s this coming from?” Chris inquires, his tone opaque.

You hesitate, mentally reviewing your interactions with your boyfriend’s social circle. Hyunjin and Jisung can’t make eye contact with you when they speak to you. Minho does nothing but make eye contact with you whether he’s speaking to you or not. Jeongin and Seungmin can maintain small talk for about ten seconds before they start looking like they’d rather be anywhere else. Changbin is the only one you’ve held a conversation with, and only because you were going up the same stairs at the same time and the alternative would have been mind-numbing silence.

What is the best way for you to say this?

“Well,” you begin, “I can’t help but notice that they act a little—when I’m around, they’re a bit, uh—”

“—crazy,” Chris offers. “Completely fucking bat-shit crazy.”

“Yes. Exactly that.”

Chris threads a hand through your hair, the comforting gesture doing nothing to assuage your worry. It seems there’s some truth behind your impressions. Your next words are tinged with a quiet sadness.

“I’m not imagining things, then?”

“No, angel,” he sighs. “But not for the reasons you think.”

A beat passes. Chris perceives your silence as a chance to backtrack, to opt out of this conversation if it’s one he’s not ready for. He would’ve leapt at the opportunity once.

But he realizes in that moment, with your voice gentle against his ears and your touch so doting upon his skin, how much has changed since he met you: from the color of the sky to the word home and everything in between, including his cynicism towards love and all the iterations of forever it holds. 

With that epiphany comes another, then another: he wants you to know why his friends are acting insane, wants you to know about him and his past and all the wounds of his you never know you healed, wants you to spend the rest of this forever with him.

His pointer finger dusts beneath your chin, a wordless request for you to look at him, and he nearly liquifies when you do and he finds entire constellations in your eyes. 

“It’s a lot,” he mumbles, though he suspects you know that already; he suspects you know about the other stuff, too. 

You bring your hand to the side of his face, bring your forehead to rest upon his. Your closeness washes over him like a low summer tide lapping over sandy shores, a soothing balm spreading over scorched flesh. 

“It’s you,” you breathe. “I will love it just the same.”

Chris' held breath comes out in shudders.

So this is warmth.

Minho and Felix are watching anime on the couch when a knock comes at their door, unfortunately during a pivotal moment of a pivotal episode. 

Minho hits pause with a ghastly groan. Felix laughs and rises to his feet, dashing into his room to grab the two silver necklaces he’ll be loaning out for the evening. “Coming!”

Outside, Chris is standing alone, hips and thighs accentuated by a pair of tight-fitting dress pants, sculpted chest and collarbones framed by a thin, cream-colored shirt with the top three buttons undone. Most of his hair has been pushed off his forehead, leaving a few locks free to fall over his right eyebrow. He’s rolling up his sleeves when Felix opens the door, veined forearms flexing as a result of the effort.

“Well?” He asks. Minho cranes his neck to look past Felix.

Both boys start to holler and whistle like excited macaques.

“What in the Calvin Klein is this?” Felix shouts, spinning Chris around by the shoulders. “You look insane, bro. Holy fuck.”

“What’s the occasion, young man?” Minho inadvertently sounds like a gruff uncle. “Where are you going dressed like that, huh?”

Chris' laugh comes easier nowadays. What’s more, it comes in a way that reaches the rest of him, that ends in a tiny, high squeak that you really have to look for in order to hear.

Felix and Minho can't help but replicate his smile. Those clothes look good on him, yes—but happiness looks better.

“You guys are silly,” Chris giggles. Dimples indent his cheeks as he accepts the necklaces from Felix. “Thanks, man. I’ll give ‘em back tomorrow.”

“No rush,” Felix replies, grinning. “Have fun, yeah?”

“We will.” Chris starts to retreat down the hallway, hands moving to clasp the jewelry around his neck, but not before he blows the both of them a kiss.

“Be back before ten!” Minho hollers; Chris laughs again, turns a corner, and disappears.

Felix closes the door. His smile falters fast. Minho has brought his face mere centimeters away, his expression thoroughly humorless.

“Tell me only the truth, Lee Yongbok,” he deadpans.

“O-okay—”

“Is Chris in a relationship?”

“—oh.” Felix frowns. “Well, yeah.”

Minho blanches. “How—how long?”

“One year, give or take? Anniversary’s today.”

Minho is stunned. Felix is stunned that Minho is stunned.

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

"I'M FUCKING SPIDERMAN, BABY" — han jisung.

who would've guessed that the guy you've been texting on tinder is spiderman?

word count: 2.7k

pairings: spiderman!han x journalist intern!reader

genres: humor, fluff, slight angst, comfort, kind of fake dating???

warnings: swearing, drinking, han is referred to as peter, reader and han are both uni students, mentions of vomit and violence, mild injuries, lowkey blackmailing if u squint, no use of y/n & gender neutral reader, han calls reader "pretty" once, usage of "baby" and "sweetie" too

playlist: les childish gambino, dare gorillaz, novacane frank ocean, i bet you look good on the dancefloor arctic monkeys, making the bed olivia rodrigo

a/n: my first fic raaahh!!! >:3 so so excited for u 2 read all these crazy ideas swirling inside my head

“...whoever provides the information on Spider-Man’s real identity will receive a cash prize of $1,000 US dollars…”

Your gaze bores to the glow of your old crappy TV. You haven’t had the time nor funds to purchase a new one, given that your only employment at the moment is a journalistic internship. It’s a good agency, the same one reporting on screen right now, and you acknowledge how hard you had worked to get the position. Nevertheless, you wish you prioritized financial gain over prestige, because now you’re stuck in your run-down apartment in New York, investigating the biggest issues for no money at all.

So you guess it’s not that big of a deal that you have no leads on who the hell Spider-Man is. If any higher-ups scold you, you could just hit them with those snarky remarks you’ve kept in the back of your mind all this time. How do you expect incentive from me if you’re not even paying me? I’m writing all your scripts because everyone else is a damn deadbeat! Maybe then they’ll start appreciating you.

You released a heavy sigh. All this nonsense is giving you a permanent headache, and it doesn’t help that you spend most of your free time scrolling mindlessly on your phone, which lights up with a new text notification the moment you start thinking about it. Perhaps you’ve spent so much time on your phone it’s becoming a part of your brain?

Peter Han: hahah tbh im pretty busy this week, but i’ll let u know for sure :)

A light shade of embarrassment tints your face when you catch yourself smiling at the text message. Usually Peter— the cute guy you’ve been texting on Tinder— never uses any emoticons. In fact, he’s been acting pretty uninterested and dry with you, which wouldn’t bother you as much if it weren’t for the fact that you desperately need a date to your friend’s birthday party next week.

Despite your humiliatingly destitute lifestyle, you pride yourself for your unmatched abilities to blend into any crowd. So like any other New Yorker, you decided to surround yourself with upper class Manhattan socialites. They like you; they don’t need to know about your financial status.

But with great power comes great responsibility, and with great social life comes great expectations. Last week it was a certain Kate Spade wallet with the intentions to match with the whole group of girls, and the week before it was table manners at a European restaurant (how in the hell were you supposed to know which fork to use for a crème brûlée?) This week, though, they gave you the most impossible task of all: get a date.

And you would. Truly, you would. It’s not like you’re particularly unattractive or unlikeable or anything like that. It’s just that you haven’t dipped your toes into the dating pool since university started, and you’re too far gone now. Your peers are fluent in these unspoken rules of dating and you don’t even really know what a situationship is.

Thus why you’re acting a little bit too desperate with Peter.

As you draft a response to him— is it better to use two or three y’s in hey?— your train of thoughts are interrupted by a loud thud on your balcony, followed by a shadow of vibrant colours. Your couch is situated safely so you can see right out the window, but angled in a way that someone outside wouldn’t be able to see you inside. You found this hack on social media on a particularly paranoid rush of nerves and thanked whoever that person was every single night.

Hesitating for a minute, you consider your options: a) attempt to fight off whoever is in your building, b) run out and alert security, or b) pretend like you didn’t hear anything and pray you don’t see your own face on TV tomorrow instead of Spider-Man’s.

If you were acting rational you would have chosen the last option. After all, it’s New York— if there’s anything prevalent here, it’s crime. But you are just so fucking bored. 

So you grab a baseball bat and swing open the window. 

“Get the hell off my balcony, dude!”

To your surprise, you stand face to face with a pair of dangling Converse All-Stars (really dirty ones, too). In your spur of confusion you come to the conclusion that whoever is sitting above your flat has the ugliest red socks you’ve ever seen in your life.

“What the fuck, man?” The person exclaims. “You bruised my knee!”

“That sounds about right for messing with my place, no?” You say, stepping out onto the balcony to get a good look at the stranger.

Just when you think you couldn’t get more disoriented, you realize the man you’re looking up to is not a stranger at all. It’s none other than Peter Han, in a full on Spider-Man suit.

“Peter…?”

The stranger, AKA Peter, breathes out a nervous laugh, raking his hand through his messy hair. Cute, you think.

“I think you mistook me for someone else. I’m not Peter.”

“Okay…” You say dubiously. “Why are you wearing a Spider-Man suit then?”

“I’m a… uh… cosplayer?”

When his eyes meet yours, the truth sings: he’s been caught. Peter Han is Spider-Man.

He’s terrified, you can tell. You don’t blame him— you would be too in his position. But it’s not just the fact that you know now; it’s also the mischievous glint twinkling in your eyes. Just what the hell are you thinking about that could be so amusing right now?

“W-what’s that look for?”

You can’t hold it in anymore. Maniacal laughter bursts out of you like you’ve been possessed by the spirit of a circus clown, and you have to hold on to the balcony railing to stop yourself from falling over. “Oh, Peter, you naive little fool.”

Peter’s brows furrow in confusion. You mentally curse yourself for admiring how handsome he looks when he doesn’t know what’s going on.

“Didn’t I tell you? I’m on the case to find out Spider-Man’s identity. Well, your identity, I guess.”

“You did not tell me that.”

“Yes, I did.” You cross your arms over your chest, shooting him a judgemental look. “You’d know that if you paid any attention to what I have to say.”

“Look, listen…” Peter braces his lean arms on the side of the window to lower himself on your balcony. Standing face to face, you note that he’s not as tall as you thought. “I know I haven’t been the warmest person to you, but I would literally get on my knees and beg for you to please not tell anyone about this.”

You hum in amusement, taking a step closer to him and raising your chin with undoubted sanguine. Like this, you’re almost the same height as him. “As tempting as that sounds, I’d rather have you doing something else for me.”

Peter chuckles in disbelief, eyes wandering to the sky as if to ask God what have I done to deserve this absolute nonsense? His palms rest upon your shoulders when he looks you dead in the eye and says, “You are not blackmailing me, sweetie.”

“That’s a lot of confidence for someone who has very blackmail-able secrets.”

“That’s not even a word!”

“Whatever.” You peel away his hands from your shoulders, straightening your posture and pulling your shoulders back. Peter faces you with a puzzled gaze as you offer him your hand, clearing your throat and stating, “Peter Han, I would like to make a deal with you.”

He doesn’t move. “And that is…?”

“Date me.” Seeing his face contort into an even deeper state of befuddlement, you follow up with elaboration. “One date to a party next week, and just a few meet-ups and texts to prove that our relationship is going strong. In return, I’ll pretend this whole exchange never happened.”

You’re both silent for what feels like hours, eyes fighting a silent mental battle, until Peter’s rough palms finally envelop your own. You’re aware of how crazy and delusional you sound, but you swear he pulls you in just a little bit closer.

“Deal.”

It’s your third year in the city, and you’re still not fully familiarized with the parties. Contrary to your expectations of drunk sweaty bodies dancing up on each other, your friends’ definition of parties consists of low warm lighting embracing their glittered luxury brand dresses as they swirl their fancy little martinis and cosmopolitans. You appreciate it, really, since you don’t have to use up your voice every other night just to shout over the deafening electronic music. However it’s much harder to appreciate the pressure it puts on you to behave a certain way— dance like nobody’s watching, but be aware that they are.

As you slowly walk to approach your friends (rule #32: no running in public spaces, you’ll look like an idiot) you feel a large hand brush softly against your waist. You turn to face your date for the night, warmth creeping up your cheeks as you take in his appearance. The only suit he’s wearing now is an all-black tuxedo with no tie, the first three buttons of his shirt opened. His black hair is brushed down smoothly, pieces of it falling just right to frame his glowing face.

“You clean up well,” you remark, circling your arm in his as you guide him towards the bar where your friends are sitting.

“I could say the same to you, pretty.” With the sleek black shoes he’s wearing, he’s a few inches taller. Slightly looking down on you, he gives you a subtle wink.

God, he’s such a heartthrob.

Your friends round up to give you hugs and kisses to welcome your presence, ever so politely. One of them acknowledges Peter’s companionship. “You must be the date.”

“That I am.” Peter returns the approach, showing off his adorably heart-shaped smile. “Peter Han, pleasure to meet you.”

The rest of the night runs as it does in your dreams the night before. By the time you had arrived, your friends were already buzzed enough to pay no mind to the way the leather is peeling off your only pair of formal shoes nor to the typo on your fake branded bag. Just the way it’s supposed to be.

Peter doesn’t leave your side the entire night, only lifting his arm around your waist to grab more drinks for the both of you. Occasionally you catch him absentmindedly rubbing your back, and occasionally you catch yourself wondering how someone who spends so much of his life fighting can be this gentle.

During a small bathroom break, one of your friends pulls you aside and whispers, “He looks at you like you hung the stars, you know.”

If you weren’t so swept up in the feeling of finally belonging under the subtle incandescence of a high-end bar in Manhattan, you would have noticed the way Peter’s eyes darken when he read a notification off his phone, or the way his lips press into a tight line when he gazes at you, laughing your heart away amongst your friends.

So you’re nothing short of confounded when he wraps his arms around your waist and leans down to mumble, “Baby, I have to go, there’s a work emergency. I’ll catch you later, alright?”

Your friends bid him farewell and you press a chaste kiss to his cheek, immediately turning away when you feel his body tense. When he walks out the door, you keep your eyes focused on how his soft hair loses its shimmer as he walks out into the night.

And you try to enjoy the warm liquid pouring down your throat for the fifth time tonight, savoring the way you can almost taste a bit of yourself pull away from reality each time, knowing at least one of the people around you will walk away tonight asking, “don’t you think that Peter is a bit cold?”

You sit on the edge of your balcony, something you never do unless you’re going through an existential crisis or drunk off your ass. Tonight it’s both. As usual, the distant sirens and exclamations of curses wrap a tight band around your head. You’re dizzy; either from the alcohol or situation or both.

The ocean of fluorescent lights from the streets of Queens drift your mind to recall just how you ended up here. Three years ago, you were a fresh high school graduate with a million opportunities in front of you. Now you’re broke and rely too much on the validation of your non-broke friends to fulfill the void inside you. The thought of eventually having nobody but yourself after you graduate makes you wanna vomit on a passerby’s head.

“Hey, baby.” A particularly resonant voice startles you out of your thoughts. Peter is swinging from your balcony railing, a pair of gray sweatpants and zip-up jacket slung over his Spider-Man suit. “Sorry for ditching early. I got pizza and flowers to make it up to you, though.”

He swings himself to sit down next to you, placing the box of pizza and bouquet in front of your crossed legs. When he pulls his mask over his head to remove it, your eyes glance over his cuts and bruises. They definitely weren’t there earlier.

“What happened?” You unconsciously bring a hand up to his face, brushing your knuckles tenderly over the sensitive areas. It’s only when he winces that you drop your hand back down to your lap.

“Some guy tried to rob a bank.” Peter shrugged, refusing to meet your gaze. “Turns out he brought a bunch of other guys to back him up.”

“Did you win, at least?”

Though his face is turned down, you can see Peter’s eyes crinkle into a smile underneath his tousled hair. “Yeah, ‘course I did. Who do you think I am, a loser? I’m fucking Spider-Man, baby.”

Ten minutes later you’re seated face to face, still on your balcony, with you dabbing a cotton pad onto his injuries. No words were exchanged; you just went in and out to grab your emergency medical kit and grabbed him by the chin. The pizza box is left unattended, but neither of you care much about the hunger puncturing your insides.

“Why do you look so down?” Peter inquires as you place a Hello Kitty bandaid on his cheekbone, giggling breathlessly as you do so.

“Do I?”

“Yeah.” He brings his own hand up to your face, brushing away the strands of your hair on your forehead. “I mean, you’re smiling now, but your eyes have this sadness to them. So, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

What the actual fuck? It literally takes you every nerve in your body to fight the urge to propose to this man right then and there.

“Hey, come on,” he urges, delicately pulling your face an inch closer to his. His thumbs run down your flushed cheeks, and it takes you a while to notice he’s brushing away your tears. “I said talk to me.”

“Well, you’ve probably already noticed that I’m different from my friends.” You wrap your fingers around his wrists. “I guess I thought I could pull off the whole socialite act, but I’m starting to feel so…”

When you can’t find the words, Peter finds them for you. “Lost?”

He presses his forehead to yours as you nod softly. “This might not be the best time, but I think you’re a star.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you shine the brightest amongst everyone else’s shadow. And your friends probably see you that way too. Also that I really, really want to take you out on a real date.”

“You were right, it’s terrible timing.” You fake pout, pretending as if your heart didn’t skip a beat at his words.

“Sorry, sorry!” Peter laughs, setting distance between the two of you once again. There is no inclination to pull him back, though; the space devoid of someone else finally feels comfortable.

“My answer is yes, by the way, you can take me out on a real date. Unfortunately no blackmail this time, though, I think I'm gonna quit that dumb internship.”

Both of you share a fit of affectionate laughter. The temperate scent of food merges with that of the flowers and caresses your senses as Peter opens the box of pizza. “If they ever make fun of you for not being rich, we can always stage one of them as Spider-Man. We'll even get $1,000 from it, then you'll actually be rich."

“I’ll take you up on that offer, Spidey.”