#Jisung scenario | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ch4nb4ng · 7 months ago

Text

Expect the Unexpected

Pairing: Han Jisung X afab!reader

Word count: 9.7k

Genre: Childhood friends to lovers (stoned college edition

Warnings: 18+ explicit minors do not interact. Substance use, sexual acts under the influence of substance use, Kissing, naked bodies, mentions of genitals, fingering, handjob, orgasm, mentions of semen

Tag list: @seo--changbin @j-0ne25 @cb97whoree

@kpopsstuffs

Note: HEY guys, its been a while, and like actually a while this time.... Had this sitting in the draft for almost a year. Life has very much gotten in the way but i am back hopefully, with the aim of engaging in writing when I feel like and no pressuring myself. Anyways, it's nice to be back and I hope you enjoy.

Summary: There was a blizzard, resulting in your college dorm being blocked from all human interaction. Things are about to, however change when your childhood best friend, and wall neighbour comes over and has other things in mind to pass the time with weed included as one of them.

The first time living away from your family and by yourself was an experience that you very much valued. No curfews, no worrying about what your parents were going to say when you’ve had several drinks at a party, and definitely no nagging to make your bed everyday. Make no mistake, you loved your parents and siblings a lot, it was just nice sometimes to have the complete privacy that was your dorm room every now and then.

There were moments that you did become homesick. On the contrary to having your own private, personal space, especially during the trying moments of completing long winded assignments, studying for exams, or even just having the feeling of familiarity when you hugged somebody that was your blood. There were always pros and cons to living an independent college life. At this current moment in time, you were experiencing one of the more annoying parts of living in a college building.

Deep into the winter seasons of the year, while also living in a state that was known for having extreme weather patterns during this time of the year was your least favorite part. Once the news alerted ‘warning, blizzard storm approaching in the next 48 hours,’ you knew that the college would be sending an official email, urging students to stay in the dorms, and barricade all exits.

This was where you were currently at.

Lying in your bed, phone up to your face as you reassured your family through facetime that you were fine and had no plans of leaving anytime soon.

“You guys know the drill,” you smiled, “I’m fine, two days in and I am alive and well, just a little bored.”

“Okay well don’t forget that Jisung’s mother and I got those rooms next to each other so you guys always have a little bit of company.”

“Yes mom I know,” you laughed, “I might text him later. He had an assignment due this afternoon and I don’t want to bother him.”

“Okay love, we will talk to you later.”

“Love you too, bye.”

The sound representing the end of the call rang through the speaker of your phone. The object fell on your chest as you let out a loud sigh, your boredom growing with each second.

Jisung. Han Jisung was someone that could be labeled as many different things to you. Friend, confidant, best friend, study buddy; home. Jisung was the jack of all trades in your book.

Knowing each other since the two of you were 10, meeting at a weekend competition of playing mixed teams basketball bloomed into a relationship you didn't know was even possible to have with a man. Jisung was the friend that kind of just stuck, even planning to go to the same college as you. It was a packaged deal, you and him, but it made you laugh, because the two of you could not be more of the opposite. Jisung was the shyer type. Although you met through sporting engagements, that was more something that his parents put him into to see what he liked. He was very intelligent, a strong preference to have his head in the books rather than going out to a new party every weekend. Make no mistake, Jisung was a very polite individual, always talking to those that gave the time. However, he was much more comfortable with people that he knew. In contrast, you were a social butterfly, able to make friends every corner you turned. Parties and drinking every weekend; anywhere but the was where the majority of your time was spent.

Therefore, when all the buildings on campus were closed, it drove you crazy. There was nothing that could be hated more than being forced to stay inside in your eyes. The confinement always made you reconsider why it was here, in this state, that you chose to attend college. But it was when you heard a knock on the door that you were reminded why. Leg flopping out of your bed sheets, they dragged you to the door, your body sprinkled in warmth when you opened it to your kind looking friend who happened to be smiling back. Your body turned to the side, hand out as he strolled into your apartment, plopping down on the couch like it was his own. You quickly followed, taking the spot next to him as you turned to face him.

“Are you bored yet?”

“Of course I am,” you sigh, walking in front of Jisung as you walk into the living room of your apartment and sitting on the couch, head in your hands, leaning forward so much that you could almost fall off the couch “as if it took you this long to realise.”

“Y/n, the email was only sent out 4 hours ago.”

“Yeah but there was supposed to be a party tonight at Changbin’s frat,” you whined, lips fully pouted, “I really wanted to go.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, placing his hands behind his head, legs kicked out on the small table in front of him, “it’s a real shame that the party is canceled.”

Your best friend managed to avoid eye contact, voice dripping with sarcasm. To be truthful, you knew that even though he would go with you, to make sure you're safe of course, and DEFINITELY for that reason only, Jisung would never choose to willingly go to such a party. It wasn’t that he was a complete prude little innocent boy, no. There had been a multitude of times where you could hear him, or the other girls that failed to stay quiet and not echo through the paper thin dorm walls. Jisung just simply wasn’t the type to go out to parties, especially when everyone there was a slobbering mess on one substance or another, especially you. There was a feeling that if you were merely a stranger to him, Jisung would most likely, outside of classes, be a ghost. A myth that supposedly walks down the hallways of your college. Seeing as the two of you were opposite in that regard, you tried to respect Jisung as much as possible. Not bringing your bong, joints, or excessive amounts of alcohol whenever he came over, because you knew if the shoe was on the other foot, he would also do the same. Jisung only had the occasional puff anyway, much less than you, so the need to have it around constantly felt unnecessary.

“Try not to ooze with excitement,” you raised your eyebrows, a fake smile plastering across your lips as you failed to see his attitude change. Good old Jisung for you.

“I’ll try my best.”

“Anyway,” you replied, leaning forward and grabbing the TV remote, pressing the small red power button in the top right corner, watching the plasma screen light up with the logo belonging to Netflix. You turn again to the man beside you, a warmth feeling in your chest at how placid he looked, patiently waiting for you to put something on.

“Is there anything you would like to watch for the next 12 hours?”

Yes, 12 hours. That was you being optimistic that this storm would be quick.

“Hmm,” Jisung hummed, bringing his index finger and thumb to his chin, thinking about what to watch, “there isn’t anything I’ve been keeping up with.”

“Ah I see. Shall we just scroll until we find something we like?”

“Sounds like a great idea.”

Clicking on your profile, the first row of TV shows were ‘Watch it again,’ followed by ‘Top hits for Y/n.’ Nothing really caught your eye, or his seeing as he would say something if he did. It wasn’t until your ‘continue watching for y/n’ that you gasped, loud. The word ‘Bridgerton’ has popped up in continuing. At first you were confused. Although you were an avid lover of that show, you had not watched it recently. It wasn’t until you selected it that you realized a new season had come out. Jisung remained puzzled, seeing as this was not something he had a remote interest in watching.

“Oh my god Jisung can we-”

“No man,” he complained, “you know this is the last thing I would want to watch.”

“Please,” you begged, placing your hands in the form of a prayer, remote still in hand, “it’s so good I beg of you please to just consider. I’ll do anything.”

“Ugh fine,” he hissed, “but I cannot be 100% sober for this shit.”

Your eyebrow furrowed, displaying a look of confusion. This was the thing you would expect someone like Jisung to say.

“Hmm ok,” you hummed, still slightly confused, “I’ll get my stash of vodka.”

“Hmmm no,” he shrugged, a slightly suggestive glimmer on his face, “something that will be long-lasting, if you’re catching my drift.”

Jisung raised his eyebrows repeatedly, leaving your mind to imply one substance only. Weed.

“You want to smoke, really?”

“Yes y/n, I want to smoke weed, is that ok with you?”

“Of course it is,” you reassured, “you know that if you were here or not I would probably do it anyway.”

“Okay.”

“Done.”

“Okay, and we have to watch from the beginning or I will go back to my room.”

“Yes yes okay fine,” you leaned over, pressing a grateful kiss on his cheek, “you’re the best. I’ll get my stash now.”

You scurried off to your room, quickly, opening the small draw on your side table next to your bed. Your stash, the prized possession that was the calm before the storm. Smoking in your downtime was something that you very much looked forward to, especially if you were unnecessarily stressed out. Your face lit up and the clouds of dark green hue clouded the plastic bag that was in your sight, fingers grasping the edge as you wiggled back to your original spot. Although you agreed, it was strange of your friend to want to just smoke out of boredom. The only time you had seen him do it was at small gatherings, and even then, it was one puff and done, usually followed by heavy chest hitting coughs. It always made you laugh. It also made you feel bad, knowing that if he didn’t hang around with you, he probably wouldn’t do these kinds of things. Jisung was an adult who could make his own decisions, but there was always part of you that thought about him, his family; would they approve of him doing this? It was a lot to think about sometimes.

It was Jisung’s turn to hold the remote, flicking back to season 1 episode 1, before scooching closer to you. Jisung was keen to get in on the action, something you were definitely not used to. He went to reach for the paper, but you grabbed him by the wrist, making him pause for a moment.

“Jisung, are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes,” he smiled, unsure why you were asking such a question, “it’s not the first time I’ve done it y/n, relax.”

“Yeah I know,” you shrugged, “it’s just, I’ve only seen you smoke once, and you looked like you were about to cough up your lungs.”

“Oh,” he sighed, looking away in embarrassment, “you saw that?”

“Unfortunately, I did.”

“Yeah well I can do it,” he barked, somewhat getting defensive, pointing at the TV to deflect from his deficits “you’re making me watch this shit.”

“Okay okay,” you whined, letting go of his wrist, “but please let me show you how to roll and smoke a joint properly so you don’t actually hurt yourself.”

The two of you giggled simultaneously, resulting in Jisung reluctantly nodding in agreement. He watched closely as he watched you open both bags, paper on the right, weed on the left.

“Okay so,” you began to speak, “firstly,” you paused again, using your index and middle finger on your right hand to slide into the plastic, “I like to slide my fingers in like this, touching the least amount of paper possible.”

Jisung pushed his lenses right up to his face, making sure his concentration was avid; missing a step was not an option for him. Once the sheet was out of paper, you placed it on top of the plastic. You like to take pride in your work, especially being a part time stoner, of your supplies. Seeing as it cost you a significant amount, it felt wrong to not get the best out of your product.

“Then,” you continued, “you get the bag with the goods, and I like to,” pausing again, opening the bag and grabbing one cluster, “just crush it in my fingers as small as I can, and sprinkle it in a line across the center.”

He nodded again, observing how smooth your fingers were, fingertips sprinkling green across the white square placed in the table.

“Are you following?”

“Of course,” he nodded, furrowing his eyebrows to show his concentration. Jisung swallowed a nervous gulp, remembering that he really had no idea what he was going to do when he coughed his lungs up one more time. Yes, he was concentrating on how you did it, but he couldn’t help it. His cognitions were descending into the gutter, especially watching the two fingers he tended to use when he was in lewd acts himself. It made him nervous.

Sure, there were intrusive thoughts about you being a part of his fantasies and desires, but Jisung knew better than to act on something that came from pure lust. Instead, pressing his lips together, attempting to stifle the giggle that threatened to erupt from his lips. You, however, were too smart to not notice him suppressing his laughter. Your elbow nudged his side, a sheepish gaze as you began to question him.

“What’s so funny?”

“What,” he questioned, puffing his cheeks and shaking his head, patting your arm, “keep going.”

You decided to shrug it off, not letting his immaturity obstruct you from your prized possession. Next was the rolling. Lifting the paper with the utmost precaution, the material was brought to your lips, tongue sticking out as your lips lay a thin layer of saliva to coat the edge of the paper.

“See what I did with my tongue?”

‘Oh god,’ was all Jisung could think, mind once again heading straight to the gutter. All he could think about was what your tongue, if it was positioned under a different appendage, how different it could be. His testosterone was raging, but once again, he knew better. To Jisung, nothing could be worse than putting his own selfish wants ahead of your friendship. However, the longer he stared at you practically making out with the joint, licking it up and down, side to side, making sure the two ends stuck together, the harder it became to push his thoughts away from such dirty crevices of his mind. The torture was over for him once you withdrew the now complete joint from your lips. You were satisfied with how it turned out, a smile of approval, and a hint of arrogance plastered on your face.

“And that’s how you do it. Now your turn.”

“Ok,” he sighed, “swap spots with me so I can do it.”

“Yes sir,” you mumbled, playfully rolling your eyes you obeyed, allowing your best friend to now sit in front of the two bags. He followed your steps with ease, using great precision with his fingers to eject the weed and paper from each plastic container. He was natural. Only the two fingers, being the same ones you, strategically rolling the two digits back and forth. He was swift, nimble, adjectives you normally liked to use when you felt the touch of a man. It was your turn to swallow nervously, a small pit of arousal brewing in your lower abdomen as the small pelts of green substance dissipated across the center of the paper, just like you did. Holy shit, how could something as simple as rolling a joint be so attractive? Jisung brought a hand to his hair, running it quickly through the brown mop to get it out of his face, aiming to let no obstacles get in his way. He gave you one look, a gaze of concern when he noticed your eyes glued to his hands.

“You okay?”

Your eyes shot straight to his, attempting to not be mesmerized by the joyful expression covering his features. Fuck, why was his smile having such an impact on you right now? He chuckled, assuming that you were just playing around, but in reality, you were definitely distracted by the attractiveness of your friend with a sudden fresh washed mop of brown hair, glasses, and shining complexion of the side of his face as the light from the window cascaded across the high points of his cheeks. You faked a smile, nodding as you egged him on to continue. Panic began to settle in however when you saw the bare tip of his tongue coating the corner of the white material. Holy shit, he really was a natural. Licking the edge right across in one swift motion, not using too much saliva, yet still using enough. It was almost offensive how much better his joint looked compared to yours. But that was just what Jisung was: a perfectionist with little effort in trying to attain said perfection. He didn’t stray too much out of the norm, yet when he did try something, he was always good at it from the first try. Sometimes it made you wonder what other things he would be good at. But that was for another time, with a similar mindset in the fact that a brief thought of sexual fantasy was not worth more than your friendship. Especially if he didn't reciprocate, the awkwardness after would be something you most definitely could not handle.

“Woah,” you gasped, grasping the joint out of his hand, intensely observing it from each angle, “I knew you would be good at this.”

Your best friend beamed at your approval, eagerly waiting for the next step.

“Oh my lighter, I’ll go grab it now.”

You forgot before, but this gave you time to completely subtract those devil filled thoughts of Jisung by not looking at him for a brief moment. It worked, because as soon as you opened the drawer and saw your lighter, all you could focus on was lighting that shit up.

Coming back to the living room once more, you placed the fire breathing object on the table, offering Jisung to go first. He looked hesitant, unsure how or where he should start. It was adorable when Jisung was like this, because he was clueless not very often. You decided to pick it back up, pressing the flicker down once to ignite the flame.

“Do you want to go first, or would you like me to go first?”

“Uhm,” he hummed, “I think you should go first, you know, show me how to do this shit properly.”

“Okay,” you chuckled, letting go of the flicker on the lighter, handing it over to him, “well I usually don’t light my own joints so would you do me the honors?”

“Of course,” he purred, the smoothness of his tone delivering a sudden pulse to your core. You leant forward, completely forgetting that your clothing was completely revealing by all means. The looseness of your long sleeve white shirt was telling, the action of leaning forward exposing the subtlety of your cleavage. You could see Jisung’s eyes travel straight to them, but only for a brief moment. He was trying to be as respectful as he could, but it was impossible when your chest was right there. His thumb dragged with ease, flame luminous as he brought the orange tipped flame to the edge of your joint. The tip turned dark immediately, and the taste of the herb came with that. The sensation was immediate, as you grabbed the joint with two fingers, pulling the object away from your lips and letting the warmth of the smoke spilling, down your chest, and back up again, eyes fluttering shut as you puffed the smoke from your lips, the feeling of nostalgia hitting you.

Jisung watched you in awe, amazed at how easily smoking came to you. He wanted to try so bad. He wanted to prove to you that he could do something that you did not expect of him. But he was patient, waiting for you to open your eyes before he started.

“Mmmm,” you hummed in pure bliss, lifting your eyelids slightly, “that is some good shit.”

“Yeah?”

“Yessss,” you hissed, grabbing onto his hands holding the lighter, sliding it out of his hand “your turn. Place the joint between your lips and lean forward.”

Jisung did as he was told, adjusting his positioning to being abnormally close to you. You didn’t pay much mind, the small flame igniting once again, but you paused, almost forgetting that he in fact did now know what he was doing.

“Ok so once I light this,” you paused, using your free hand to squeeze his jaw, “are you listening?”

His eyes widened at your sudden touch, a small nod which was obstructed by your somewhat firm grasp.

“Ok so once I light this, take a small breath in, hold for a second, and blow it out.”

“Yes maam,” he smiled, looking deep into your eyes before you passed him the bud, waiting for him to grasp it between his two fingers. When he does, still keeping his eyes on you, simultaneously feeling your brain drop slightly at how intense his gaze was in this very moment, lips forming into the shape of an o as the paper came to his lips, taking the smallest puff, and blowing it out. You were impressed, seeing this was the first time he smoked anything without coughing his lungs out. A smile came to your lips, proud of your best friend in the moment.

“Woah,” he sighed, finally breaking his stare, eyes changing towards the blunt. His chest descended as he took another puff, turning back to face the tv as his back gently slid into the couch.

“How was that?”

“Is it crazy that I already feel more relaxed than before?”

His response made you giggle, glad he was enjoying himself.

“I told you,” sighing as you snatched the blunt from his grip, taking a long drag, “I only smoke the high quality stuff.”

“Sure do,” he growled, sinking deeper and deeper into the couch. Jisung grabbed the remote, pressing play on the TV, greeted by a girl in a royal style gown. He forgot that it was Bridgerton that got him here in this predicament.

***

It did not take much for the two of you to feel the consequences of smoking. One thing you hated to admit was that you craved the presence of someone next to you when under the influence. But not just like in your orbit no. Like needing a lack of personal space. To be suffocated. Which is why the two of you were sitting the way you were now. Your legs atop of his own, head buried into his chest, with your arms wrapped around his torso.

The intrusive thoughts always won when you were high, which is how your fingertips came to be not just on your best friend, but under his shirt, skin to skin contact. You couldn’t deny that the texture of his defined build, muscles budding at each ridge was hard to miss.

Bridgerton had been playing, but if anything, at this point, it had become background noise, the main noise becoming the tension that thickened between the two of you with each passing minute. Although the relationship was close,the idea of intimacy was never something that had come up as a thought. Sober you, and sober him, would never do such a thing. Feeling that maybe it would cross a boundary.

But the usual thought did not cross your mind. Or his for that matter, Jisung’s digits generously spread across the outside of your thigh, dangerously close to your behind. It felt nice, honestly. Yes, you had your fair share of one night stands. Male attention followed you, easily, whether you were looking for it or not. With that being said, however, it had been a while since you remembered what a real man's touch felt like. Especially your best friend. Being a biology major, Jisung was consistently practical in the lab, using his hands in the most intricate ways. Whether looking at a small piece of bacteria in a microscope, or dissecting an organ of some sort, he was always using his hands, and boy, was that evident when you felt the texture of his callous palms spreading across the back of your leg.

The puffing came to a halt, joint burning down halfway to its bud, but it was enough to heighten your senses. The two of you looked at each other, eyelids a little more droopy than usual as the both of you giggled, looking back at the TV. By the time the two of you were actually paying attention to the storyline, Daphne and Simon were getting married.

“So what’s the premises?”

“Premises?” You giggled, finding humor in your best friend’s speaking mishap.

“Yeah like,” he paused, maneuvering your body to be closer to his, leaving now no room on the couch between the two of you, “like what’s the show about.”

“It’s a period romance show based on a series of books.”

“Ohh, I thought you didn't like to read, you fucking nerd.”

“Oi,” you nudged him, completely missing the side of his arm and falling onto his chest, “I don't, that’s why I'm watching the show instead.”

“Right, anyway, go on.”

“Right, so Daphne and Simon basically pretended to be together so this other guy, creepy as fuck, wouldn’t have to marry her. But then they realized they developed feelings for each other but are both inendial about it so they're discussing the topic on their wedding day and just going through with it because it was too late for them to change their mind.” If either of you did not see the irony in this situation.

“That literally made no fucking sense,” Jisung sighed, using his free hand to scratch the back of his head, “but to be honest, I really can’t concentrate on anything you’re saying.”

“Damnnn,” you gasped, leaning up to look at him, “you’re high.”

“Yeah pfft,” Jisung hummed, keeping his glazed eyes focused on you, “I feel like I can just say or do anything right now.”

“That’s the beauty of smoking Ji,” you smiled, turning away and facing the screen. It was at this point that married TV couples were in their honeymoon suite. If you were being honest, it was hard to keep up with the dialogue due to the speed and the actual content being in old english. It was much less difficult to follow the visuals, their facial expressions, how they spoke. It was still captivating, watching the two actors get close and closer, right until their lips met. As they continued, the room felt silent yet tense. The two of you watched adamantly as things began to heat up, Simon assisting Daphne in undressing herself. It was then that you felt Jisung adjust himself under your legs, brushing him off of you as he sunk back into the couch. You thought it was strange, but you decided it was better to ignore it, remembering how mesmerizing the scene of Daphne and Simon making love for the first time really was. As they moved to their new bed, Simon hovering over Daphne’s innocent body, a new sensation was forming in your lower abdomen, but it didn't stop there, unmistakably flying right to your core, again. While recalling how mesmerizing this particular scene was, you also forgot how much it aroused you simultaneously. This was a mistake. Being high and horny was not a good combination, especially when Jisung, your best friend, was sitting next to you, previously with his hands on you. It was probably better to disregard these lustful feelings, they surely would pass.

“Oh shit,” Jisung mumbled, grasping for the small decorative pillow next to him, placing it over his crotch area, “this is um, wow, it’s uh-”

“Yeah I kinda forgot,” you replied before facing him, noticing the now pillow covering the beginning of his lower limbs. At first you were confused, eyebrows furrowed at why he would do such a thing. Instead of minding your business, and beating the paranoia of not knowing what he was doing that was amplified after smoking, you were now holding the pillow, the sounds of Daphne’s moans and groans the only noise that could be heard. As soon as Jisung noticed your grip on the pillow, he resisted you, not wanting you to see what was happening underneath the soft object.

“Jisung,” you laughed nervously, genuinely confused at his behavior, “what are you doing with my pillow.”

“Nothing,” he hushed, attempting to dismiss your question with the tone of his voice floating thin into the air, “keep watching.”

He pointed at the screen, head nodding in the same direction as you let go of the pillow and focused on the TV. But that was the worst mistake you could have made, because it was Simon’s turn to undress, and once he did, it really was game over. The two of them there, completely naked as he began to thrust into his new wife. Simon’s grunts were short, staccato like, while Daphne was more graceful, each moan spilling into her husband's ear as the two of them went at it.

“Fuck this is making me really horny.”

As soon as your best friend said that, he brought his fingers to his lips, leaving your jaw dropped. Did he really just say that, or were you hallucinating?

“Woops,” Jisung mumbled, “the weed is really making me lose my filter. Sorry.”

You should have hated that he blurted that out. Letting the intrusive thoughts win, especially when high, was not a good sign. But it brought the ache that momentarily dulled right back. Looking back at the screen, Jisung now removed the pillow and revealed his full hard on through his thin fabric sweatpants: it was becoming too much. Now suddenly, the only thought that stayed consistent was wanting the same thing on the TV. Right here. Right now. With Jisung. Your best friend.

“Don’t be sorry,” you cooed, moving closer to him, “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t either.”

He said nothing, only gasping in a subtle manner as Jisung looked at you, all of a sudden your features projecting to him as illustrious, appetizing. Jisung wanted nothing more than to devour you in the current moment.

“Is this normal?”

Jisung’s voice was so nonchalant, tone lacking concern or hesitation at your lack of proximity. It was kind of adorable, really. The normal friend you knew was one to freak out if he ever did something like this. Usually so prim and proper in every setting. In contrast, there was something sexy about the way he was acting. Sure, actions had consequences, but thinking with clarity was not a priority.

“I would say so,” you purred, voice soothing as your fingers crept onto the front of his knee closest to you, “weed makes me horny too.”

“O-oh,” his voice shook, suddenly a little nervous by the prospect of you touching him in a possibly arousing way, “Y/n.”

Jisung’s voice was breathy, chest heaving very slowly as his eyes shot down to your body. Suddenly, your best friend was amazed by every single curve and creativity of your figure. As he brought his hands to your behind, it suddenly felt so soft, hands unforgivingly slipping past the waistband of your shorts, making direct contact with your skin. The contact made you hot, using your free hand to fan yourself. Jisung took the hand of yours that was moving deathly slowly along his inner thigh off of him, body now on his side facing you as he withdrew his hand groping your ass. Instead, he moved it around to the front, but rather than dipping straight into your folds, he slipped in the layer under your outer layer, opting for the space inbetween, digits spreading across your core covered by the miniscule fabric.. It was better this way, he thought. The sensation of touch was much more sensitive under the influence as he wanted to feel every texture of your body that was possible. You giggled at the brush of his gentle touch, a small gasp quickly following up once you realized that his fingers, although not making direct contact, were feeding that arousal felt between your legs. Like scratching an impossible itch. His eyes were already on you when your neck turned, facing him.

“Shit,” you breathed, “you’re really good at that.”

“I’m barely touching you,” he hissed, lips getting closer to your own. What is happening right now? You should be saying no; rejected his advances. Your best friend. Jisung. The shy, little boy you had known him to be all of his life. But the longer his fingers pushed around that sensitive button of yours, the more your legs spread open for him, hips gently bucking to reach for more surface area of his fingers. His confidence was charming, almost too much so. It made you want more and more, so much so that your internal conflict of stopping and telling him to keep going was disappearing with each lingering moment. Rationality, once a perplexity in your mind disappeared the moment his lips landed on yours. God they were sweet, soft; every texture that you know felt pleasant was coming to your mind the moment they moved against your own. His free hand came to the side of your face that was farthest away, index finger spread across your jaw as he moved his tongue, deeper and deeper, maintaining his dominance over you. Fuck he was a good kisser, a whine erupting from your throat at how flexible his mouth was, bending over backwards to make sure that you were happy with the pace.

“Mhm,” you hummed, pulling away from a brief moment to remove all bottoms, panties included. All your best friend could do was chuckle, deeply, the shade of his eyes turning as dark as you had ever seen when he saw your bare pussy out, for him. His fingers latched on immediately, using the index and middle finger on one hand to spread your lips, the other fingers on the opposite hand barely scratching your clit. The feeling almost made you wriggle out of your seat, mouth agape across Jisung’s cheeks in a sloppy effort to maintain composure of any sort.. Everything was happening so fast. All it took was barely one scene for the two of you to let down your guards. Pretending that your friendship meant nothing. It was never friendship. Jisung would be a ghost to you if the two of you had not been friends since childhood. Maybe there were in fact other reasons that the two of you stayed this way. The moans and groans of the girls he would have over, filling up the bare distance between your room and his, always had an effect on you. It was then when you started to question what he did to those girls to make them feel so good that you were doomed. It was easy to act like a crazy party girl in front of him, knowing that he would never want to be with someone like that, and by doing that, it would push those little feelings right down to where you had the ability to forget them. Avoidance was always key.

But then Jisung would bring you food while you were up doing an assignment, buy you a bouquet of flowers when it was your birthday. Even the way he would talk to your siblings back at home was enough. Jisung was enough and maybe now, by getting these hormonal feelings out, which felt like heaven, was enough to admit that this would not be just a high rendezvous for you, but something real.

“You’re like really wet,” Jisung hummed, sliding his fingers closer and closer to your whining entrance, “always wondering how you would’ve felt like this.”

“You have?”

“Oh yeahhhh,” Jisung replied, sarcastic, as if it was super obvious, “all the time.”

“Fuck that’s so hot,” you moaned, gripping his wrist, bringing the digits specifically up to your lips for a moment, taking his DNA into a deep thorating motion The two fingers he was about to use now utterly drenched in your slick before navigating them down your body, circling your entrance before effortlessly plunging them straight into your hole. Jisung could have creamed himself then and there. Due to the sensitivity of his first time being high, he knew that if he was going to fuck you today, he truly would not last long, at all. But instead of ruining the moment that way, he decided to make it all about you. Wanting to view you squirm under him, make his best friend: you feel good. It is something he has been patiently waiting for. Jisung was a giver, and if he wanted to give you a toe curling orgasm on your couch to make you happy, he was going to do so, whatever it took.

As soon as he fingers reached the end of your whole, the two of you moaned in unison, the sound of squelch that was your arousal already an intense volume.

“D-don’t think I’ve been this wet before,” you whined, waiting for Jisung to gently pull them out.

“Really,” he questioned, genuinely baffled, “no one ever made you this wet before? Find that hard to believe.”

Your hips wriggled, desperate to feel the friction of him moving back and forth. However he was so mesmerized by the texture of your velvety walls against his digits, that he used his other hand, coated in your slick, to relieve himself, the encounter resulting in Jisung becoming much too impatient to bother taking his pants off. Your eyes shot straight to the small motion you were witnessing of him moving his hand against his cock. Oh, his length must feel so good like this. Once Jisung began to move his fingers that were inside of you, a string of curse words easily fell from your lips, unable to control anything that came from them. The sensory overload was at peak, and if you were sober, feeling overwhelmed would be an understatement.

With that being said, you were not, and neither was Jisung. The brooding tip that was his cock gently nudged your inner thigh. As he continued to grow, it had nowhere else to go. The simplest of touches felt like a million times more than when under the influence. But it had to be a culmination of things. Seeing Jisung dominate in something, take control. Fuck. Hearing those girls in his dorm had more of an impact on you than you originally thought.

Your mind drifted to those memories for a brief moment, the faint moans of the girls, but it suddenly occurred that you never knew what he sounded like. Jisung was a silent fuck? There was no way.

Your gaze drifted, Jisung immediately noticing and pausing his fingers with immediate concern.

“Y/n?”

Your head turned back faster than your eyes, deep in motion. It was silent, the TV pretty much non-existent as you grabbed him by the jaw, index finger and thumb strong on his mandible as your eyes fixated on his lips.

“How come you never moan when you fuck?”

Jisung panicked at first, a laugh following immediately after, the contagious sound making you laugh too. Your body was limp for a brief moment, falling off of your best friend's lap and next to him on the couch. Jisung ripped his glasses off his head, throwing them onto the table in front of him, allowing him to get a genuine look at how hot and flustered you truly were. Solely because of him.

“What are you talking about,” he giggled, fingertips immediately grabbing the flesh of your thigh, any part of you was good to him, as long as he could get his hands on it, right now.

“How would you know if I’m a silent fuck or not?”

“Because,” you smacked him lightly, letting him remove his hand from your skin “I can hear when you fuck other girls, pfft,” you huffed, lifting your legs in the air to discard your bottoms that were puddled around your ankles, “they’re always so fucking loud man.”

Jisung’s cheeks blushed in the tiniest form. It’s not that he was embarrassed. Okay, maybe part of him was a little embarrassed, completely caught off guard and forgetting that the walls in the dorm were paper thin. Part of him felt guilty that you had to hear that. He began to pout, but immediately dropped his lips when he realized that you were half naked. His fingertip immediately wrapped around each hip, forcing you to sit on his lap and face him. You lifted your hips, eyes signaling down to his pants that were overdue in needing to be removed. Jisung complied immediately, whisking his sweats and boxers off in one motion, causing his hard length to meet with your soaked core, his tip prodding gently at your folds. You bit down on your lip trying as hard as you could to focus on Jisung’s face, rather than focusing on how erect his cock was against you. Jisung tugged at your shirt, gawking when you lifted your arms to see no other material supporting your chest. Jisung was mesmerized once again. Another surface area that he wanted his hands on immediately.

“I can’t believe you heard me fuck other girls and never said anyti-”

“Shhh,” you hushed, pressing your folds firmer against Jisung’s cock. Your best friend reach for your hips immediately, in shock of your bold actions, “I don’t fucking care Jisung it’s fine just touch me, please.”

“You don’t have to ask twice,” he huffed, palms snaking past your abdomen and gripping onto your tits hard, firm, rough. Ugh. Nothing had ever felt so good in your life. All this time you thought Jisung was a stupid little pathetic boy, with the occasional fuck here and there. God, it would almost make you laugh at how incorrect your perception was of him in the bedroom. Truth was, he knew what he was doing, because your arousal was doing nothing but increasing with each longing moment that his wood was not inside of you.

“Soft fucking tits,” Jisung mumbled, almost drooling as he slapped one of your nipples, the skin imeediadtely turning hard as he brought his lips to to the bud. His teeth appeared, claws like, as he took the same one in his mouth, not returning for breath as he nippled, licked, sucked; you name it, Jisung was doing that.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, head rolling back in pleasure, “how are you so good at everything you do?”

A chuckle escaped Jisung’s lips, the vibration felt across the entirety of your chest, “I’m not I-”

The two of you paused, freezing entirely when you heard Jisung’s phone ring. He glazed over, noticing the words “Mom” written across the top of the screen. He looked away as he turned back to you, that look of hunger dilating his pupils. The temporary freeze made Jisung long for you even more.

“Jisung,” you whispered, hands placed across his face and upper neck, “you should answer.”

“No,” he huffed, attaching his lips over your neck sporadically, “if it’s an emergency she’ll call me again. I’m busy.”

The phone was silent for maybe a few seconds, before it began to ring again. Jisung scoffed, removing his hands from you as he picked up his phone.

Your joint and lighter were in arms reach. You ignored the conversation, bringing the material to your lips and lighting it up again, your body relaxing even more as you took a deep breath in, feeling the substance sink into your skin, blowing out the remnants after. Your eyes turned to Jisung, his already on you, eyeing the joint in your hand. He leaned forward, waiting for you to put the joining between his lips. You complied, bringing the flame in unison. Jisung mumbled his words for a brief moment before blowing out the air.

“Yes mom,” he answered, “I’m fine. Y/n is fine, I just checked in on her.”

A small giggle came to your lips, followed by Jisung covering them. Removing his appendages, you decided to stand up, letting go of Jisung on his lap as you dropped to your knees. Like a predator, you crawled over, eye level with his knees. Jisung’s brows furrowed, taking him a bit of time to realize what you were about to do. He was still on the phone, talking to his mum about god knows what. That wasn’t your focus for now. It was spreading his legs wide, Jisung’s hardness evident as it spread across his groin. Your lips curled upward as you situations yourself where you needed to be, Jisung’s eyes widening as he realized what you were about to do.

“Yes I am s-sutdying hard,” Jisung shuttered, the sudden touch being your hand wrapped around the base of him startling him, “j-just finished one a-assignment today.”

A deep, lustrous chuckle escaped your mouth as you began to pump him, watching your best friend’s sensitivity, squirming at the touch. Jisung was doing everything in his power not to moan, prevent knowing how much effect you had on him, and form his mum knowing what he was doing.

“Mom can I c-call you back l-later, bit b-bust, busy right now.”

Jisung’s body jolts forward the moment he felt your tongue on the underside of him, making its way to his tip. He hung up the phone, tired of this torture as his hands found their way through your hands immediately. His sign of eagerness felt so good, the gentle tug from him begging you to go down on him completely driving you wild. The pain mixed in with pleasure immediately, traveling to your core and pulsating harder than it has ever felt in your life. Jisung was lengthy, but that was no problem. Beginning, slowly, you took him into your mouth, a guttural moan bleeding from his lips as his head rolled back with ease.

“Holy fucking shit,” he gasped, almost running of out of room to breath, “you’re so fucking good at this baby”

A slight moan fell from your lips at the use of the pet name. Jisung’s head snapped back down immediately to you, catching your gaze in an instant. Your eyes looked bigger to him, doe like. It was driving Jisung wild; he could’ve finished right then and there. Being high and having the elevated physical sensation from your magical touch was something he could live with forever, maybe become addicted to. If this is what life felt like under the influence, he now wanted this all the time.

“Mmmh,” you sighed, a large pop and breath coming from your lips as you replaced your hand, “you taste so good Sungie.”

Your free hand traveled down your body, descending to the apex between your thighs to satisfy that ache that was growing with intensity with every second passed. The attempt to hide your pleasure was amateur, biting down on your bottom lip as a stifled groan left your lips.

“Y/n, baby,” Jisung purred, leaning forward and grabbing your forearms, “come here.”

You did as you were told, helping him hoist you back onto his lap. The brush of him against you this time is 10x more powerful and intense. Nothing had ever felt like this before; you never wanted this to end. Jisung scanned you again, looking up and down one more time before seizing the hem of his shirt, ripping it over his head. You gasped, hands immediately clamping onto him as you leaned forward, reattaching your lips to his.

Above everything, Jisung’s lips felt the best. This symbolized so many times, conscious and unconscious, did you think about how they would feel. What they would taste like. How other girls thought Jisung’s lips tasted and felt like. Jisung smiled as he pulled away, the devilishly handsome smile on his face as he leaned into your ear, “sit next to me baby.”

It seemed that the only thing you could do was be obedient to Jisung. His orders were like music to your ears. In your friendship dynamic, you tended to be the more domineering one. Making decisions for Jisung, whereas he was the more nonchalant friend. Always happy to go with the flow, as long as he was with you. This time, may things were different.

Jisung sat in the same place with his legs spread. Leaning over, he grabbed you by the thigh closest to him, fingers dancing across the skin on the inside of your thigh as his lips turned upward again. All of a sudden you felt nervous. Watching your best friend ogle you was a strange feeling. Jisung immediately noticed your energy shift.

“Y/n.”

“Yeah,” your eyes widened, looking directly at him.

“You okay baby?”

“Yeah? Yeah! Sorry, let me have another puff.”

Jisung saw you grab the joint and the lighter again, bringing to your lips before he reached for your wrist, pushing the objects away, forcing your attention to be on him only.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“No,” you interjected, bringing the material and lighting the tip once more, “I fucking want you. I just zoned out for a second.”

You pressed a kiss to his lips, followed by his cheek, back of the ear and down to his neck, cascading hisdown to the middle of his chest. Jisung giggled at the feeling, the tickling sensation emitting fire throughout his body. He returned the favor, placing a kiss atop of your breast before he reached for his own joint, handing you the lighter, “Will you do me the honors?”

“Fuck yes I will,” you marvelled at his enthusiasm, lighting up the joint without a hesitation, watching him sit back and close his eyes, taking everything in. You did the same, wanting to embrace that feeling that resulted in you buying this in the first place.

It was as if the last puff recharged your best friend, his eyes reopening, that dark, lustful caste creeping back into them as he reached for you, pushing your leg out of the way, hand clasping your inner thigh. There was no sign of his movement stopping, fingers already pushing your folds across, almost as if they were in the way completely. A sharp gasp fell from your lips the moment his middle finger touched your clit, the sensation overwhelming immense as he began to move in circular motions. Jisung’s touch was gentle, in reality, he was barely applying any pressure. But in this moment, the pleasure you were deriving from his fingers was tenfold. Eyelids were fluttering, it felt like you could barely keep up with him. It wasn’t until you saw Jisung’s cock twitch out of the corner of your eye that you knew what you had to do.

It was time for your hand to snake around his body, but, in contrast to Jisung, you did not want to wait. There was no time to tease; you were simply too desperate. Fingertips found his weak spot fast, dexterity sloppy wrapped around your best friend once again as you matched the pace he found on you. It was slow, sensual, anything to build the pressure between your thighs, and between his.

“Y/n, baby,” he whined, a deep groan following, “Your hands are my favorite part of you right now.”

A seductive chuckle escaped your lips, “Your hands are my favorite part of you right now too Sungie.”

“Fuck I love it when you call me that with your voice all fucked up and groggy.”

“Sungie baby, I always call you that,” you paused, bringing short circuiting from the finger that Jisung slipped inside of you, “what’s so d-different about it now.”

“You always turn me on Y/n,” Jisung grogged back, “always,” he smiled, pausing again, “especially right now.”

A small heat came to your cheeks, hips gently dragging across his fingers. God, was this what heaven felt like? Your hand picked up in speed, Jisung reacted immediately with a gentle whine. The noises he made to you were like an orchestra playing its grand piece. Another side of Jisung that you had not seen, but were mesmerized by. It was a whole new world. A whole new territory of risk that the two of you had decided to explore. However, all rational and logical decisions were thrown out the window a very long time ago. Jisung wrapped his free hand around your breast, clasping onto your nipple as he entered another finger into you, index and middle finger picking up their pace, adding the squelching sound of your wetness as another sound that filled your tiny dorm room. Dorm room. You forget momentarily how thin the walls were; but who gives a fuck? It’s not like Jisung was going to hear. He was the one that was making you moan over and over anyway.

“Sungie,” you whimpered, “feels so good.”

“Say my name like that again.”

“Sungie.”

“Fuck,” he growled, pushing deeper into your walls, “your pussies screaming for me.”

“It’s your pussy,” you breathed, the tremors of your release beginning to rumble, “no one has ever turned me on this much Sungie.”

Your best friend had a smirk of approval, curling the tip of his two fingers inside of you. A small shriek escaped your lips, hand flailing from his cock as your jaw dropped at once. Hips bucked up and off the couch, a sinister chuckle coming from Jisung as he watched your hips squirm for him. He was possessed by the way your body reacted to him, reacted to his touch, he did not pay two minds to the throbbing sensation between his legs. All he could see was that you were slowly losing it.

You did not care. You were waiting close and closer, deeper and deeper, hitting a spot that has never been touched in your life. Your mouth was getting bigger, hips moving with less and less rhythm. There was an impending feeling that you knew was going to happen, it was only a matter of seconds.

“Sungie I’m gonna-”

“I know baby,” Jisung cooed, eyes fixated on your face, pressing a gentle kiss to your jawline, “cum for me.”

A borderline scream left your lips when your hips plowed to the couch, an rupture of pleasure cascaded of the entirety of your body, legs shaking and howling in pain like they never had before. Your chest was breathing heavy, deep in unison with Jisung’s as he removed his fingers, your pussy aching from the lack of fullness. Jisung leaned over, pressing a kiss to your neck in several places before your lips. He waited until your eyelids stopped fluttering shut for you to see him bring those sinful digits to his mouth, and suck on them, hard, a deep groan leaving his lips at the taste.

“Fuck you taste good,” he winked, causing both of you to start giggling.

It did not take long for your eyes to travel to his still very hard cock. Your hands traveled immediately, both encompassing the majority of him before you began pumping, hard. To anyone with an outside view, this was not classy sex. It was sloppy, but the two of you were so high that it was perceived the former way. Jisung needed your touch, you needed to touch him. Jisung wasn’t far off either, and the fact that you were looking at him with vigor, with desire was bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

“Y/n slow down, I’m gonna cum too quick.”

“No such thing,” you purred, adding your tongue into the mix, flicking your tongue along the slit of his tip.. You leaned over, Jisung resting his hands across your ass as you coaxed one moan after out of him. Jisung’s head snapped back, unable to comply with the amount of pressure he was feeling. In a similar fashion to you, his hips began to buck, tip slipping into your mouth as his sounds got louder, his pleading becoming stronger.

“Y/n fuck, s-shit I’m gonna cum, Y/n I’m gonna cum.”

Jisung’s voice became whiny, the tone music to your ears as you moved your mouth away from his length, bringing your lips to the crook of his neck and collarbone, gently nipping on the soft spot on his skin as his muscles coiled underneath your body, cock getting harder under his hands as he hit his peak. Ropes and ropes of him squirted across his stomach, a deep groan, one sounding of relief bursting from his lips as he gripped your wrist, chuckling to stop you from a sensory overload.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, regaining his compures as he grabbed you by the neck, pulling you into a deep, deep kiss. The pressure on your neck was comforting, a smile turning on your lips as you pulled away.

“Wow,” Jisung gasped, “That was,”

“What took you so long?”

“Y/n, shut up,” Jisung spat, the fatigue hitting him suddenly, “woah, I’m fucking exhausted.”

“I tend to have that effect on people,” you smirked, the room erupted in laughter as Jisung laid back on the couch, pulling you into him as the two of you looked at the ceiling. Your substance affected mind was starting to wear off, causing your exhaustion tenfold. The two of you drifted off to sleep almost immediately.

“When I wake up, you're gonna get it,” Jisung mumbled, but you were already asleep.

Depending on how you felt when you woke up, that would change everything.

#han jisung #han jisung smut #han jisung fic #han jisung scenario #stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids fic #han jisung x reader #stray kids x reader #jisung #jisung smut #jisung fic #jisung scenario #jisung x reader #ch4nb4ng

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niki-phoria · 2 years ago

Text

METAL MOUTH

pairing: jisung x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff word count: 639

includes: reader has lip piercings (implied to be snake bites), nervous jisung, not proofread and i don't have any facial piercings so pls forgive any mistakes !!

summary: jisung likes your piercings - maybe just a little more than he likes you.

jisung is staring at you. you can feel it. his gaze never leaves your face as he watches you carefully adjust the thin metal rings piercing through your skin through your bathroom mirror.

wide eyes meet your own when you turn around to face him, softly chuckling at the way the boy startles. “what?” you playfully cock your head at him; a smirk tugs at the corners of your lips. “is there something on my face?”

“no,” jisung replies, softly shaking his head. he slips fully into the room, letting the door quietly shut behind him. despite now being face to face, jisung’s gaze still lingers on your lips for just a few seconds too long to be totally platonic.

hesitantly, he raises a hand up until his fingertips are mere centimeters away from the metal. “what do they feel like?” he finally murmurs after a period of silence.

“i’ve had them for so long they just feel normal to me,” you shrug. “i only really notice them when other people bring them up - or when i’m doing something near my mouth, like brushing my teeth or something.”

“i guess that makes sense," jisung hums. you ignore the disappointment that courses through you when he lets his hand return to his side - widening the space between you once again. "did they hurt?”

“not much,” you shrug. “cleaning them everyday was a pain, though.”

“sometimes i fall asleep without taking my makeup off,” he chuckles. “i don’t think i’d be able to handle the upkeep.”

“you get used to it,” you smile. “have you ever thought about getting any yourself?”

“sometimes. never seriously though.”

you nod in acknowledgement, leaning back against the bathroom counter. in the momentary silence, jisung finds himself staring at your lips once again - more specifically at the thin rings looped around your mouth.

“you look really nice.” the words escape his mouth before he realizes what they are. you softly smile at him as his face flushes a bright red; jisung’s mind races to come up with an excuse. “your piercings - i mean.”

“so you don’t think i look nice?” you tease.

jisung bites his bottom lip. “of course you do,” he finally murmurs. “do they affect kissing?”

you freeze. wide eyes meet your own before jisung quickly takes a small step backwards away from you. he stares down at his feet with overly flushed cheeks.

excuses fall from his lips in waves before you take a step closer, limiting the space between you once again. jisung pauses when you reach up to cup his cheek with your hand. “i’m not sure,” you murmur. there’s a beat of silence before you speak again. “...i’ve never kissed anyone before.”

“do you want to?” his voice is so quiet you almost miss it entirely. the feeling of your heart beating so rapidly in your chest is almost overwhelming.

“yeah,” you finally whisper. “i’d like that.”

your eyes flutter closed as jisung slowly begins to lean in. your breath hitches in your throat from the anticipation before he finally presses his lips against yours.

jisung’s lips are soft - softer than yours. your bodies move in an unconscious rhythm as you slowly continue to limit the amount of space between you. his touch is gentle as he rests his hands on your waist; your arms snake around his neck, just barely beginning to tangle into his hair.

you only pull away when the lack of air begins scratching at your lungs. you’re all but panting as jisung leans in, resting his forehead against your own. “so?” you whisper with a shy smile. “how does it feel to kiss someone with piercings?”

“it’s better,” he breathlessly chuckles. “way better.”

your rebuttal dies on the tip of your tongue when jisung leans in, pressing his lips against your own once again.

if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, consider checking out my nct dream masterlist <3

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mint-yooxgi · 2 years ago

Text

Control - Yandere!Incubus!Jisung

Yandere AU & Incubus AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Internal Monologue

Pairing: Jisung X Implied Chubby!Fem!Reader

Words: 1,658

Warnings: Violent thoughts at one point and implied murder, very smutty themes (he's essentially in the middle of the act with you while this is going on hehe). Mentions of potential kidnapping, but nothing comes of it. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: I'M BACK BABEEEYYYYYYYY!!!! Lmaoo it's been forever since I've posted anything, or at least, it feels that way, so I hope this can satiate you all for a bit. Things have been a bit slow, but I'm feeling good about this one, better than I have been with my writing for a while. Anyways, Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

The Tenth of The Feral Drabbles

You don’t know how long I’ve been dreaming about this… to complete ravage you and claim you as my own.

A blissful sigh escapes my lips as I look down upon the wondrous sight that is you, naked and spread out beneath me. Months of meticulous planning have finally all come to a head as I run my hands up your sides, caressing your body like I’ve always dreamed.

Finally, you are mine, just as I’ve always been yours.

Long since have I been watching you, keeping an eye out for anything and everything that might spark an interest for me in you. You see, my sort of clientele deserve a certain… care when I decide to take them on. The seduction is all part of the thrill of the game.

But you? Oh, you?

You are most certainly not a game. No… You are everything I’ve ever desired, and so much more…

All of the others were easy to figure out, some flowers here, some compliments there, and poof, I had them right where I wanted them. Yet, you made me work for it. You made me earn it, and by the time I did, I could never hope to accept anybody else but you.

You are now my sole desire in this godforsaken universe. The only one I will ever want. The only one I will ever need.

You see, Darlin’, you have this smile… A smile that just lights up the entire room whenever its radiance graces your features. It’s brilliant, and the first time I ever saw it, I was captivated. The way your eyes crinkle during such an expression of joy set my heart racing. An odd, and rather foreign feeling, as I’ve never experienced anything quite like it before.

I had to have it for myself.

Sure, there’s been other times where my clients have smiled at me - smugly, flirtatiously, genuinely - but none of them were you. You have a certain charm that’s addicting, and I couldn’t help but wonder what that smile would look like gracing your features because of me.

I wanted to make you laugh. I wanted to make you happy. More than all of that, though, I wanted to know what that smile would look like pulling at your features as you gazed down upon me, my tongue buried in that tight, wet heat of yours. Perhaps, even what it would look like as I intertwined our fingers together, hearing you sigh in bliss, begging me for more as I made you come over, and over, and over again. For me, and me alone.

That smile would become a product of my love for you, in whatever ways it could. Soon, it would be only reserved for me, and not that fucking coworker of yours that seemed overtly friendly with you. They really enjoyed cracking jokes, didn’t they? Not so funny when it’s their skull cracking instead…

But, I digress… what I had to do to ensure you fell into my arms after all this time is my own business. You don’t ever have to worry about a single thing.

You even seemed to have a soft spot for animals, so it became nothing for me to start walking the dogs under our care just as an excuse to see you. They love you, almost as much as I do, you know. They know you’re mine, and they’ll protect you, and care for you almost as fiercely as I will now. They know that no one is allowed to touch you but me. We have to protect such a delicate being, after all.

Gentle… you’re always so gentle…

But you have a dominant streak in you, don’t you, Darlin’? You enjoy taking control, especially earlier in the night when I had you in my lap.

Fuck- just thinking about those plush thighs around me as your hips shifted above my own has me twitching again in anticipation. I can’t get the feeling of your hands off of my skin, your fingertips having burnt trails of passion all over my shoulders as you attempted to ground yourself by holding onto me. I can still see the way your head tossed back in bliss, your movements stuttering as you came just from the friction alone.

You don’t need to be embarrassed. I came, too. I always come, even just to the mere thought of you.

That’s just the effect you have on me.

Oh, but I let you have your fun. I let you take control, and was it ever a sight to behold. To be able to indulge with you in these desires of yours has filled me with no greater joy. Seeing you take control like that…

I was made for you, Darlin’, and you were made for me. Never shall we be parted again. I won’t allow it. You are mine, and I am yours. Now, until forever.

The shock on your face after I told you that it was now ‘my turn’, well… it still has such a warmth building in my chest. It made me think, though, that perhaps you’re not used to receiving the love you deserve. I’ll deal with those other fools that dared make you believe you weren’t worth the same love and care you show them later. Right now, I want to focus on you.

Oh, the way my body comes alive at the feeling of your hands all over me. Every stuttered breath, every whimpered moan, is yours. Your name is made to fall from my lips, as mine is made to be graced by yours. You should know, all of my reactions are of the purest variety I can offer, for you and you alone.

I just hope you will do the same, and from the way your eyelids continue to flutter in bliss, I can tell this will be the case.

That’s it, Darlin’, feel my hands caressing every part of you. Let your body come alight beneath my touch, squirming and begging for more.

I will give it to you. I will always give it to you. Right now, though, I want to take my time.

To think, someone who’s always prided himself on his professionalism could be reduced to mere tatters at the very thought of you. For too long I have been fantasizing about what I would do to you if given the chance - an occupational hazard, if I do say so myself - but never have I ever felt anything this intense.

My life is yours, Darlin’. You own my very soul. Every breath, every thought, every desire I have is yours. Yours to fulfill, yours to own, yours to keep. It always and forever will be.

Yes, feel my lips against your skin, feel the way my tongue darts out to taste your pulse. This racing heart, that hitch in your breath, are all because of me.

I’ve only just begun…

Let my fingers trace over ever dip, let my hands map out every curve. I want to find all the spots on your body that have you gasping, and then I want to make you tremble from the slightest of my touches. Let me please you in all of the ways I know how, in all of the ways that I am known for.

Darlin’, you know my horns are sensitive…

Oh, but you did that on purpose, didn’t you? Your playful giggle says it all. You still want to be in control…

Just relax, Darlin’. Let me take care of you.

The hitch in your breath as you see my fangs only makes my cock ache for you that much more. And that full body shudder at my nails grazing your sides? Perfection.

My breath hitches. You- you’re begging for me? You want me?

Who am I to deny the most beautiful divinity I have ever had the pleasure to lay my eyes upon.

Don’t be shy now, Darlin’. You asked for it.

Just look at the way my fingers sink into those luscious thighs of yours. Fuck- you really are made for me… and this gorgeous, weeping cunt… is this all for me?

All because of me? Darlin’, you shouldn’t have! You know how insatiable you make me.

I swear, you were created just to tempt me. To make me succumb to the deepest of desires so I could please you to the fullest extent of my own abilities. Every lick, every suck, is for you, and I can never get enough of this sweet nectar that flows from your very core, intoxicating me with just a single taste.

Give it to me.

I want your everything.

You like when I growl against this pretty pussy, don’t you, Darlin’? Well, what if I pull you closer and do it again? Oh, that made you clench around my tongue, didn’t it?

Do it again…

Again…

More…

More! Give me more!

Feed this beast inside of me who yearns for you!

Yes! Give your all to me!

Let me see you fall apart on my tongue…

That’s it, Darlin’, feel the way I suckle this sensitive little clit between my lips. Moan for me as I let my tongue delve through those soft, wet folds of yours. Make me drunk on you, and then make it so I can never dream of wanting another. Only you.

I’ll let you in on a little secret… you already do.

Such a luscious body, Darlin’, and all mine to hold. All mine to touch, to please, to sink my fangs into and mark you as mine over, and over, and over again.

That right, grab onto my horns, pull me in closer as your thighs shake around my head. Don’t fucking stop until you’ve taken everything you’ve wanted from me, and then some.

My body was made to please you.

That is truly my greatest desire.

After all, Darlin’, you’re the one that’s still in control.

#cultofdionysusnet #yandere jisung #yandere han #yandere skz #yandere stray kids #yandere kpop #jisung scenario #han scenario #han smut #jisung smut #skz scenario #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids scenario #chubby reader #incubus au #kpop au #kpop scenario #kpop smut

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stay-corner · 11 months ago

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im crying. jisung wearing a choker with a heart shaped tag on it. i need him so bad.

–🐿💕

warnings: nsfw, minors do not read! unprotected sex, creampie, hanji wears cat ears and a choker but they don't come into play much, he's desperate and horny and whiny and that's exactly how i like my men, he sucks on your fingers, u choke him, he cries, all that. he passes out a bit but he's fine. overstimulation ig? idk it's also pretty nasty and sweaty

word count: 1.1k words

a/n: hanji anon it has been almost two years since you cried in my inbox about jisung wearing a heart choker and i don't know if you're still around but i'll let you know the recent bow choker jisung incident made me let out an honest to god whimper. so here's a nasty drabble involving jisung, a bow choker with a heart shaped tag on it, and cat ears. jesus take the wheel

[05:31 am - han jisung]

"faster, faster, fuck," he chants in a desperate tone, hands slipping quickly from your hips to your thighs and back up, restless and greedy as he grips your flesh, nails digging in and squeezing painfully. all you can do is moan, whimpers stuck in your throat as you piston your hips on top of his own, legs quivering from both extertion and his needy pawing.

"i'm going... as fast as... i can, ji..." squeezes through your constricted throat between pants, jaw slack and eyes barely keeping open. jisung's so hard and thick for you, you want to throw your head back and fall prey to the enjoyment, but the image of him fucked out underneath you, cheeks flushed, pretty black choker resting on his neck, frilly bow and shiny heart glinting back at you, and the cat ears clumsily clipped in his hair... god, you couldn't have mustered a more erotic image even if you tried your hardest.

jisung bucks his hips up into yours at just the right time, the impact hitting a new angle that makes you keen and pulls an open sob out of him, head lurching off the pillow from the pleasure as his eyes squeeze shut. "oh, you're sopping wet, fuck... fuck..." jisung whines, his high voice reminiscent of the harmonious high notes he hits in the recording booth, now distorted with lust and want and desperation. "please, please, faster, wanna cum so bad," he runs his mouth stupid, brain shut off, and you feel your lungs burning.

"ji, you're so... fucking... insatiable..." you groan back at him, eyebrows furrowing because you're positive that you can't physically go any faster than you're going right now, the sound of smacking skin and wet squelches and unabashed moaning bouncing off the walls of jisung's bedroom. you already forgot how many times either of you came so far, brains gradually turning to mush the longer you pleasured each other, until you were reduced to the mindless animals bucking into each other now, fucking like rabbits.

one of jisung's hands moves down, brushes your clit in its pursuit of rubbing against his pelvis and your thighs, fingers becoming drenched in the mix of both of your slick and cum. he lets out an almost pained sound at the feeling, gaze watching how the substance webs between his spread fingers, and he almost grows cross eyed at the sight, head falling defeated on the pillow.

"that word's too big for me..." he remembers to respond, fingers returning to grab at your body, wherever you'd let him. "it's so sloppy, fuck, i'm... so numb, but it's so good... fuck... make me cum, make me cum," jisung rambles on and on, eyes squeezing and head thrashing from side to side, messing with the ears in his hair, choker straining at his neck. you think it's on a bit tight, but jisung probably likes it. it might leave a small mark, and you clench at the thought.

jisung is still wailing for you, the filter between his mouth and mind nonexistent, and before you think, one of your hands lifts from his toned, sweaty chest, up to his mouth, two of your fingers slipping in effortlessly. jisung responds with muscle memory, jaw falling slack and body relaxing, lids finally lifting as he shows you his beautiful doe eyes, growing glassier by the second. his hands don't flex painfully into your flesh anymore, fingers letting go as he begins rubbing over your torso and legs, mouth alternating between tongueing your fingers and sucking on them.

"that's it.. pretty and brainless for me, ji, hm?" you huff down at him, tone sweeter, sticky and soft for him. it's hypnotic to him - jisung thinks you'll be the death of him, and he's fine with it. "you're fucked stupid, baby," you add, and one of his hands runs over your tummy, catching onto your bellybutton before it descends further, soaked thumb making contact with your aching clit. it's gentle - even in his fucked-out state, jisung knows how to touch you, knows you're sensitive, knows this is enough to make you tighten around him, make your toes curl.

his other hand slips off your thigh, rubbing up his own torso, over his soft tummy, over his raised chest, and finally finds your fingers, coiling them in his grasp and pulling them up, towards his neck. jisung blinks up at you, gaze zoning in and out, and his eyes begin to well up with tears when you finally grab his throat firmly, the feeling of the choker's frilly fabric making the hair on your arm stand up.

"shit, jisung, you're fucking nasty," you mutter, fingers pushing harsher against his tongue as you grip the sides of his throat, and the new leverage allows you to angle your hips better, descending on him harsher, over and over and over again, the sound of smacking skin and wet squelches and muffled gagging echoing against the walls of jisung's head, and he only realizes he's crying when the cold tears roll down his ears, his burning red hot ears.

jisung wants to warn you, tell you he'll cum, but it builds up so fast in his lower tummy, and he sees only bright white behind his eyes as the sensation travels down his legs and up his body, feet clenching and unclenching, hands all but smacking down on you from the sheer force of the feeling, pushing and pulling at once, unsure of where he wants you - he shivers violently, thighs and ass and biceps burning and shaking, his lungs pushing all the air out in spite of the sharp clench in his chest, veins bulging in his throat and forehead and fucking cock, balls clenching as he empties inside you, the pull deliciously painful. your walls milk him too well, and he lets another sob out around your fingers as the tip of his dick throbs, each drag of your pussy sending electric jolts down his shaft, directly into his bloodstream.

jisung only comes around again when you brush his hair off his forehead softly, fingers working the cat ears out of his strands, and tenderly undoing his choker. his ears ring, and he has to relax his muscles manually, body still tensed and jolting every few seconds. you leave a peck on his temple, hand rubbing softly at his throat, down his chest, up to his cheek, and he has half a mind to tilt his head, kiss your palm. his eyes are closed.

"you're so good to me, ji" you whisper against his skin, body lying next to his. you're both sweaty and gross, and jisung is in love with you, so he tells you so.

"... 'm love you."

you chuckle and nuzzle into him. it only takes you two a minute tops to drift off, sweaty, and gross, and in love, and thoroughly satisfied. (for now - he'll agree with you tomorrow, when his brain can finally process more than three syllables at once, that he is insatiable, after all).

sick and twisted. thank u so much for reading, hope you enjoyed! here is my inbox, where you can leave feedback, thoughts, or request an idea! here you can find more of my writing, and here are my guidelines! :> i appreciate every like and reblog and sweet word thrown my way! have a nice (and wet and nasty) day hehe~ - lunar

#skz smut #stray kids smut #jisung smut #han jisung smut #han jisung x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #uhhhh #a taste of you hanji anon #stray kids scenario #jisung x reader #jisung scenario #han jisung scenario #my tag game is weak rn forgor how to tag #skz scenario #drabble #idk #weh

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scarletwinterxx · 9 months ago

Note

please write more of dad!jisung 🥹🥹🥹

helllooo~ i actually got a few dad jisung requests , apologies it took this long but I finally wrote it😊 hope you like it!

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

and if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.Keep reading

"What if she cries?"

"Then do something about it?"

"Okay but what do I do?"

You look over your boyfriend and the baby girl in his arms, both looking at you with curiosity in their eyes. "Jisung, that's your daughter. You kept her alive for this long, you'll figure it out"

"Pretty sure we made it this far because of you. You're the brain in this relationship"

Jiwon babbles like she's the one talking to her father, this makes Jisung look down at the baby girl in his arms. Leaning down to boop their noses together, something he knows his daughter loves.

"Stop talking yourself out of getting groceries, it's only a few things and I really need to clean the house, your parents are coming over" you tell him as you put a few things inside her diaper bag, just the essentials incase she needs them while they're out.

When you got pregnant with Jiwon, you admit you felt lost. You and Jisung were still very young. You just turned 20 when you found out, everything that could go wrong already playing in your mind. The only one who talked some sense into you was your boyfriend. Jisung was the voice of reason during that time, he really stepped up and made sure you were taken care of.

First agenda on his list was to get a place for the two of you, the apartment wasn't too big but enough for your small family. The two of you worked remotely so it was perfect when the little one came.

Now your daughter is a year old, she's everything the two of you dreamed of. And even though she came a little earlier than planned, Park Jiwon is the light of both your universe's.

Jisung loved the little human with everything he is, his favorite part is that she looks like you in every way. He must have saved a nation in his past life to be blessed like this, living with the love of his life and the little life the two of you created.

"Here's a bag just in case she needs anything, she got snacks in there. Also packed some for you" you joked, putting the bag on his shoulder.

You laugh as you watch the 6 foot guy holding a pink bag and a baby with the biggest pink bow, "You two are adorable, now go I have some cleaning up to do"

"Wish me luck" he mumbles, giving you a kiss on the forehead before walking towards the front door

"Hey, when someone comes up you and says 'oh my gosh, you're baby's so cute' what do you say?" you call out to him

He rolls his eyes, a smile forming on his lips "She looks just like her momma"

"Damn right she does, now go. Love you both, see you later"

#fic #fanfic #story #nct #nct dream #nct jisung #nct fluff #nct au #nct scenario #nct imagine #jisung imagine #jisung fluff #jisung scenario #jisung au #nct dream au #nct dream x reader

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slytherinbangchan · 2 years ago

Text

Inked Dreams (NCT Dream Tattoo Artist!Au) (M)

Chap 2 out of 6 -> Second arc: Tattoo apprentice Park Jisung x tattoo artist female reader.

>>Inked Dream's Chap 1 here

Summary: A NCT Dream Tattooist!Au where the Dreamies are college's heartthrobs and most likely will steal your heart whenever you less expect it.

Cute, shy but very hot, flirty Jisung. A deadly combo, I promise.

Inked Dreams Masterlist~ Blog's Masterlist~

[2nd Arc: Seven Days. ("A Week" 없어.)🐹 Chap 2.]

“Noona.” Jisung calls you. “You look worried.” He says as he looks at your phone and then back at you. “Ah, it's nothing. I was just talking to Renjun about our schedule.” You say, putting away your phone and he nods. “Okay.” “Unnie~ I'm done with my chores, can I leave for today?” Seonhui interrumps. “Why are you calling her unnie?” Jisung asks her before you can answer her question. He sounds a bit sulky about it. “She said it was okay since you call her noona too.” Seonhui informs him and he kinda pouts and scrunches his nose.

Ugh, cute.

You smile to yourself and sigh before finally answering Seonhui's question. “Yes, you can leave. I have something to do with Jisung anyway.” You say and he blushes lightly, so you chuckle. “Your piercing.” You clarify and he blushes even more. “Y-yeah, I know...” He says as he ruffles his hair and Seonhui rolls her eyes at him. “Well, see you on Monday unnie~” She hugs you goodbye before walking away and you chuckle softly. “She's cute, right?” You ask Jisung and he scoffs. “I guess.” He says, still a bit sulky, and you bite your lip not to smile. “I see. Well, let's get you your piercing, yeah?” You tell him, motioning him with your head so he follows you.

“Where do you want it? You haven't told me yet.” You ask as you chuckle softly. “Middle tongue.” He says and you smile to yourself as you wash your hands and get some gloves. “Oh really? Are you sure?” You ask as you smirk and he nods a bit confused by your question. “Okay, give me a second.” You poke around the cabinets as he watches you. “Here.” You hand him the antiseptic mouthwash. “Use it, I'll get everything ready in the meantime, yeah?” You tell him and he nods, leaving to the bathroom to be back after a minute. “Ready?” You ask. “Yeah. I'm a bit nervous though.” He confesses. “Aw, it's okay love.” You say in a soothing way, and he blushes for some reason. Making your heart flutter lightly. “It'll hurt way less than that industrial, I can tell you that.” You point at his ear as you chuckle and he shyly nods. “Okay, now sit down and show me your tongue.”

He does as you say and sits down, then you take some measures to mark his tongue before clamping it after spraying some anesthesia. “You okay?” You ask and he nods lightly. “Good.” You smile. “Now, close your eyes and take a deep breath for me.” You ask him and he does as you say while you quickly pierce his tongue. “Okay, we're almost done.” You say while placing the jewerly, then you carefully put his tongue back in his mouth while you smile. “Done~ How are you feeling?” You ask. “Good-Oh... Weird.” He says, making you chuckle as he struggles with his own tongue. “Yeah, it's better if you don't talk for a while. Also, no hot drinks, spicy food, beer... ” You tell him as you clean around. “And of course, no kissing and obviously no oral sex.” You warn him as you point at him with the marker you used for his tongue and he blushes profusely.

You bump into Renjun on your way out the shop as he just comes in. “You're leaving?” He asks looking at you and then Jisung. “Yeah, I don't have any more appointments for today, Seonhui already left and Jisung needs to go home so... Yep. Should I stay so we can talk though?” You ask and he shakes his head. “No, it's alright. Let's have a drink next time yeah? Monday after work?” He suggests and you nod. “Sure. Call me if you need me though, yeah?” You ask and he nods too. “See you later, Jisung?” He asks and Jisung shakes his head while gesturing. “What's wrong with him?” Renjun asks you and you laugh. “I pierced his tongue. He shouldn't be talking for a couple days.” You explain. “Oh, will you be okay this weekend?” He asks and Jisung nods. “Well, take some ibuprofen and call me if you feel sick. DON'T cook but also don't order anything spicy.” Renjun says and Jisung nods and gestures him to stop talking cause he's embarrassing him. You laugh softly and push Jisung so he starts walking. “See you, Renjunnie.”

It's already night time when you walk out but it's still early. “Hey, why aren't you allowed to cook?” You ask as you chuckle and he silently chuckles too, then proceeds to gesture the reason why, making you laugh in the process. “I'm gonna guess you're just a bad cook.” You say and he nods as he smiles and gives you a thumbs up. Ahhh, he's even cuter now than he normally is, ugh.

He points at you and shrugs, making you chuckle again. “Am I a good cook?” You guess his question and he happily nods. “Yeah, I'm okay.” You say and he nods one more time as you reach the bus stop. “Oh, it's coming already, lucky.” You say as you see the bus in the distance and he scrunches his nose. “What? Aren't you happy that we don't have to wait?” You ask, amused at his reaction and he shrugs, taking out his phone to write on the notes app. “I was having fun.” You read then chuckle. “Yeah? Me too. We can still chat in the bus though.” You say and he shakes his head as he sighs then motions you to jump in the bus first. You sit together next to the back doors like you normally do. “What will you do this weekend since you can't do anything fun with your mouth?” You ask and he chuckles then writes again. “That sounded weird.” You read, then laugh softly and lean over a bit to whisper. “Not weird, you just have a dirty mind.” You say and he blushes lightly. “Why do you think I was thinking about something dirty? Maybe is noona who has a dirty mind.” He writes, making you chuckle once again. “Maybe.” You tell him and he bites his lip, playing with his labret as he does so. “Can I have your number?” He writes and you raise your eyebrows at him. “Don't be dirty minded, noona~” He writes again and you chuckle softly. “Weird timing, don't you think? I have the right to be in this case.” You defend yourself and he shrugs as he mischievously smiles, showing you his phone. You scoff but look in your pocket for yours then hand it to him as you grab his phone to save your number and he does the same with his.

-----------Next day at night~

“Hey, are you really sure you can talk already?” You ask as you chuckle as soon as he answers the phone and he chuckles softly too. “Mhm, it hurts but at least it's not that swollen.” He answers, his tone a bit lower than normal since he's probably just lying down. You can slightly tell he can't move his tongue that well yet, but it's cute. “You dummy, if it hurts let's just text.” You say, kinda whining. “But... I can't look at the movie and write at the same time...” He complains and you click your tongue. “Okay.” You say, making him chuckle. “Don't be mad at me noona, I'm really not a multitasker.” You sigh at his words. “Maybe we should just watch alone...” You say and he laughs. “Ahh, whyy?” He's whining but you can tell he's smiling. “Does your tongue hurt too, noona?” He asks and you scoff. “Aish, whateverr, just play the movie.” You say as you chuckle and he chuckles too. “Mhm~ I'll start the countdown.”

1:30am

“Ah, seriously, the kid was too cute.” He says and you smile. “Mhm~ Ugh but I ended up crying a little.” You confess and he gasps. “No, but me too! It can't be helped with this movie, noona.” He says, making you chuckle softly. “Ah, seriously. Tears were running down my face, I didn't want to say anything though.” He confesses and you laugh. “So you're telling me that we were both suddenly so quiet while watching and neither of us noticed the other one was secretly crying?” You ask, chuckling and he chuckles too. “Yeah.”

3:23am

“Noona, did you fall asleep?” Jisung asks, whispering, and you whine softly. “Maybe.” You say, making him chuckle. "Was my story about what happened with that mean girl's post and my friends too much?" He asks and you scoff. “Of course not... Your voice is just too soothing Jisung-ah.” You kinda whine again “Ah, really? Is that a problem?” He asks and you giggle. “Yeah, I wanna be awake so I can keep listening to y-... Ah... I'm sleepy-drunk talking.” You say and he scoffs. “Cute.” He says in a quiet voice. “I heard that.” You point out, making him chuckle softly. “Mhm~” He says, making your heart flutter a little. You scoff as you smile then sigh and bite your lower lip before talking again. “You're cute too.”

3:45am

“Are you falling asleep now?” You ask chuckling softly, and he does too after a second. “Yeah...” He admits. “Well, I'll tell you about my new tattoo design some other time then.” You say and he pouts even if you can't see him. “You can tell me now, I'll stay awake.” He says and you chuckle. “It's okay, I'm sleepy too. I've had my eyes closed for a long time now.” You confess as you giggle and he does too. “Me too noona. You're a great story teller~” He says, pulling a smile out of you. “Yeah? You're falling asleep though. I must be boring.” You say and he chuckles. “Noo, I'm just tired from yesterday, noona. I promise. I love your stories, really.” He says. “I want to listen to everything you want to tell me.” He adds, and your heart flutters as you blush. “I see.” You say, chuckling at how cute he is. “Well, sleep well then and I'll tell you about it another day, yeah?” You softly say. “Mhm~ Okay, that's a promise then.. Sleep well noona.”

Chap1🐹....Chap3🐹

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jeonjungkookenthusiast1997 · 2 years ago

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Fuck why does this have to be so sad yet so beautifully written 🥹 I almost cried reading this, you can feel the pain Jisung feels as he calls out to her. Thank you for writing this beautiful work and sharing it for us all to read 💙

sacrifice ↠ han jisung

◦ genre: goryeo au, fluff, angst

◦ pairings: reader x jisung

◦ word count: 9k

◦ description: the king of goryeo issues an imperial edict for his personal physician, but the problem is, you haven’t found the secret to longevity yet.

◦ warnings: mentions of death + alcohol

◦ a/n: the gif is funky because this is a goryeo era fic (so imagine the hair) but I tried with the coloring to give it that effect // based on a few eps of ashes of love on netflix & historical accuracy—idk her

Manwoldae Palace is truly extravagant in the eyes of a commoner like you, for every hall contained plated gold shrines for the gods and royal blue tainted celadon roof tiles on the ceilings. There is a stone astronomy tower in the center of the courtyard where royal astrologists analyze the stars, evaluating the alignment of the planets to assure that the timing for anything and everything was reasoned with, backed by the Heavens above.

You are dressed in your finest robes made with the softest linen and most expensive dyes, and a silk veil conceals the bottom half of your face, setting you apart from the servants and maidens tending to the flowers and the trees in the imperial garden.

The title of “physician” lies heavy on your shoulders when you make your way to the king’s living quarters, your footsteps quick against the brick floors as the hefty medicine crate rattles with your every step. Fifteen years of studying medicine and pharmacology under the noses of your tribal elders, your efforts have not prevailed, the elixir to longevity still as arbitrary as it was centuries ago. Now, the king has finally called for you, and you have absolutely nothing to present to him.

Keep reading

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havenhyunjin · 25 days ago

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risky reader — stray kids

— you send a risky text to your boyfriend and the wrong stray kid has his phone to read it.

warning: nsfw themes!

☼☽⋆｡°✧ ✧⋆°｡☾☼

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jj-one · 1 month ago

Text

EPISODE 1: HELP! MY HOT GIRLFRIEND CAUGHT ME CRYING AFTER GIVING HEAD! (NOT CLICKBAIT)

this is smut, do not interact if under 18

jisung thought tutoring the hottest girl on campus would ruin his GPA— not his pants. one month later, he’s somehow getting called ‘pretty’ mid-thrust and offering you pocky as a post-orgasm snack.

pairing: nerd!han jisung x popular!f!reader, established relationship genre/tags: college au, smut, fluff, jisung is a loser with a capital L, humor sprinkled in bc i’m unserious asf, lots of references to anime and other dumb stuff, lowkey perv!jisung, dry humping, oral (f. receiving), piv, protected s*x, kinda subby!jisung but he’s still a whore lol words: 5.4k (wasn’t expecting it to be this long… guess i yap too much)

[ note. ] — i had to make another nerd!ji fic bc i literally cannot stop thinking about him 😣 feel free to read my other fic for more context since it’s set in the same universe but i wanted to make a smut ver so here we areeee <33 also, i will be making more parts eventually, hence why it’s labeled as ‘episode 1’ so stay tuned for more !

Jisung thought for sure that was going to die a virgin. Not in a sad, self-loathing kind of way, but more in a “yeah, that checks out,” kind of way. The type of peaceful resignation one might have while unplugging a broken router for the eighth time before crying into a bowl of instant ramen. Because guys like him— guys who quoted Dragon Ball Z unironically, who panicked when girls sat next to them in lecture halls, who built custom keyboards for fun and screamed at League. They didn’t date girls like you.

And they most definitely didn’t sleep with girls like you.

Still, that didn’t keep him from fantasizing. Constantly, shamelessly, unhingedly.

He’d never known what it felt like to have warm walls wrapped around his cock. Never heard those broken whines girls in hentai would make— unless he counted the ones he accidentally let out when he edged himself too long. His hand was simply never enough, no matter how many times he convinced himself he could “recreate the pressure.”

The bottle of lotion and box of tissues on his nightstand weren’t even hidden anymore— they sat like holy relics beside his gaming PC, ready for immediate access the second he closed League and opened incognito mode.

Porn never fully satisfied his craving though, he always wanted more. Even the best JAV compilation or doujinshi fan dub couldn’t compare to the real sickness consuming his brain: you.

You, with the glossy Instagram that he scrolled through like it was the damn Louvre. You, wearing micro bikinis in pool selfies with captions like ‘hot girl summer’ while he rots in bed, sweating and crying at the curvature of your ass.

You, biting your glittery, gel pen in class, leaning across the desk to ask for help, accidentally flashing a glimpse of cleavage so dangerous it made him pause mid-equation like he got hit with a stun grenade. Stalking your Instagram, seeing you in the tiniest baby tees and mini skirts. It was the perfect gooner material.

He’d stroke himself under the covers while biting a t-shirt to keep quiet, muttering your name between gasps like he was summoning a spirit. Fantasies playing out in his head that ranged from soft and romantic— like kissing you breathless during office hours— to completely feral, like bending you over his anime pillow while you called him “pretty boy” and ruined his life.

It didn’t help that you flirted with him now.

That you asked him to tutor you.

That you sat so close during study sessions he could sense your perfume from a mile away and taste the salt from the fries you always stole off his plate.

You laughed at his jokes, called him cute, even once said he had “nice hands,” and he nearly evaporated on the spot. Had to excuse himself to the bathroom with a boner and a prayer.

Every night ended the same. Him, fisting his cock in pathetic desperation at the thought of your pussy swallowing him whole, whispering ‘please’ like a man on the verge of religious enlightenment.

And every night, after he came all over his own stomach, out of breath and guilt-ridden, he’d sigh dramatically and say,

“I’m going to die alone. I know it. I’ll be the guy with the Zero Two body pillow and the unopened condom pack from 2017 that he keeps in case of a miracle.”

He did not, under any circumstances, expect you to be that miracle.

Never in a million years did he think he’d actually have a chance, let alone be dating you. You were just too perfect. The literal girl of his dreams.

Popular. Gorgeous. Cool in the kind of way that made any and everyone want to be around you without knowing why. You had that magnetic charm about you, an easily contagious laugh, a confident stride when you walk, and that dangerous habit of licking your lip gloss mid-sentence like you were in a CW drama.

And yet, somehow, here he was, currently horizontal on his bed, shirtless, breathless, with you on top of him wearing his oversized Bleach t-shirt and not much else, grinning like you’d just won first place in a science fair and a dance battle.

“Are you glitching?” You asked, poking his cheek. “Do I need to unplug you and plug you back in?”

“I- uh- w-what? No- yes? No.” He stuttered like every word had just magically left his vocabulary, he was definitely malfunctioning.

You laughed, head dropping onto his bare chest as he laid stiff as a board, arms hovering midair like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you even now. Even after dating you for a whole month.

“A month,” he whispered, still stunned by the timeline. “That’s like… thirty days of you voluntarily being seen with me.”

“Thirty one,” you corrected, lifting your head to smirk down at him. “Don’t forget the bonus day where you kissed me in front of the vending machine and the entire basketball team clapped.”

“I thought I was going to throw up.”

“You looked like you did throw up.”

Jisung covered his face with both hands and groaned.

God, he still didn’t know how this happened. When you had asked him to tutor you in stats, he assumed you were just kidding— or high. But you weren’t. You’d actually shown up. You’d flirted, sat on his lap one time when all the seats were taken at the library, and then acted like it was no big deal while his soul left his body.

And now here you were. Straddling him. Teasing him. Literally wearing his t-shirt with the anime print on it and calling him “baby” in the kind of voice that should be illegal.

“You’re so tense, Sungie,” you murmur, lightly dragging your fingers down his chest. “I know you like it when I touch you. You make these cute little gasps like a baby bird.”

“I-I don’t sound like a baby bird,” he mumbled, absolutely sounding like a baby bird.

You leaned down, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“Chirp.”

Jisung squeaked.

You lost it, giggling into his neck while he covered his blushy face with a pillow. “Oh my god, stopp- why are you like this- why did you choose me,”

“Because you’re smart, and sweet, and you get all flustered when I call you hot. And because,” you sat up again, hips rolling ever so slightly and watching his pupils blow wide as you rocked against his clothed erect, “you say things like ‘This is just like my fanfic’ under your breath and then deny it.”

He groaned at the sudden friction, arms falling limp at his sides. “You heard that?”

“Babe, I hear everything. Like right now, I can hear how bad you want me to ride you.” You bit your lip, feeling your wetness growing at a rapid pace as you continuously grind on him.

Jisung whimpered. “Okay. I- this is really happening, right? This isn’t like, some kind of VR dream or like a… cursed hentai plotline where I wake up and you’re actually a sentient toaster?”

You blinked. “What the hell kind of anime are you watching?”

He slapped a hand over his eyes. “Nevermind, pretend I didn’t say that..”

You kissed him then. Slowly. Tenderly. Like you had all the time in the world and like you couldn’t believe your luck either. Because yeah, you were the cool girl, but Jisung was the first guy who actually listened when you talked. Who remembered your favorite boba order. Who’d stayed up until 3 am tutoring you and still walked you to your dorm with sleepy, nerdy affection twinkling in his eyes.

So yeah, you were gonna roast him forever— but you were also gonna ruin him tonight.

“Hey, baby,” you whispered, reaching down to tug his sweatpants lower.

Jisung was in the midst of catching his breath like he’d just run a marathon. “Y-yeah?”

“After I make you cum, will you tell me all about the sentient toaster anime?”

“…Maybe.”

“Okay,” Jisung panted, curling into your side like a baby koala clinging to its mother, “that was better than every hentai I’ve ever seen.”

You snorted into his shoulder. “High praise coming from the man who owns a $300 body pillow.”

“She was limited edition!” He quickly defends himself.

You playfully roll your eyes, kissing his flushed cheek. “So are you, Sungie. So are you.”

And yeah, Jisung still thought he was going to die a virgin once upon a time.

But now, wrapped in your arms with kiss marks littering his neck and your laughter still echoing in his ears— he was just really, really glad that he’s been proven wrong.

The moment you straddled Jisung and kissed him again, something shifted in the room.

And not just him having an outer-body experience for the sixth time in an hour.

You pulled back from his lips to look around, and the first thing you said was, “Okay, I have to say it- your room is the most aggressively virgin-coded space I’ve ever been in.”

“I told you not to look too closely!” He whined, burying his face into your neck as you giggled and craned to inspect the chaos surrounding you.

“Let’s see…” you started ticking things off on your imaginary list. “Anime wall scrolls? Check. Neon RGB light strips that make your room look like a gaming dungeon? Check. Is that Hatsune Miku in a glass case next to middle school spelling bee trophies?”

He groaned. “They’re collector’s items—”

“You were runner-up in 8th grade and you framed it.”

“I peaked early, okay?!”

You laughed so hard you fell forward onto his chest. “I love you.”

He froze. “Wh-what?”

You blinked. “I said I love you.”

He looked like you’d just offered him a lifetime supply of ramen and also stabbed him in the heart.

“…I love you too,” he whispered, barely getting it out before he hid under the covers.

You tugged the blanket back down just enough to see his red face. “Hey. Don’t hide. I wanna see you. Look so pretty when you blush.”

“PRETTY?!” He yelped.

You nodded in confirmation, brushing hair off his forehead. “Mmhm. Prettiest boy I’ve ever seen. Especially like this- messy hair, pink cheeks, all breathless under me…”

He made the most broken noise you’d ever heard.

His hands gripped your hips like he didn’t know what to do with them, like he was trying not to crush you or himself with how desperate he felt. His eyes were dark now, glazed and locked onto your every move as you slowly ground against the bulge in his sweats.

“This is real, right?” He meant to ask that in his head but blurted it out instead, voice slightly cracking. “This is really happening?”

You kissed the corner of his mouth. “Feels pretty real to me, baby.”

At this point Jisung was spiraling.

Not just emotionally. No, that happened daily.

This was a full-system shutdown.

You’d tugged your shirt off without warning and smiled down at him like it was the most casual thing in the world, and now his hands were hovering awkwardly mid-air like he wasn’t sure if he had permission to touch you or if he was being Punk’d by the gods of horny delusion.

Your skin. Your smile. Your fucking tits.

And worse— worse— as your fingers brushed through his messy brown locks and your thighs shifted over his hips, his brain suddenly screamed,

‘I can’t believe I’m about to get pussy before Jeongin.’

Jeongin, his slightly cooler, slightly taller, still-a-virgin roommate who had three rotating Discord kittens and a suspicious amount of cologne but somehow still never scored.

Jeongin, who walked around shirtless after push-up sessions and said things like “it’s not rizz, it’s charisma” unironically. Jeongin, who once said “I want my first time to be passionate and respectful” but also accidentally downloaded a virus trying to pirate a hentai dating sim.

Jisung had always assumed if one of them was gonna make it out of virginhood first, it’d be the guy with the Uzumaki clan symbol tattooed on his ribs and a social life.

But no.

It was him. Han Jisung. The guy who owned a limited-edition anime titty mousepad and squeaked like a kettle when a girl touched his arm. And now? You were grinding up against him slowly, teasingly, and he was barely clinging to reality.

“Y/n,” he whimpered, clutching your waist like you’d float away. “Can I- can I eat you out? Pleasepleaseplease.”

You blinked rapidly.

“…You wanna—?”

“So bad,” he choked. “I think about it all the time. Like in class. And when I watch those ‘how to’ videos online. Like, the diagram ones, not the porn ones, though I watched those too- but like educationally! For science!”

You stared blankly.

He was sweating.

“Okay,” you said softly, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “You’re really cute when you beg, y’know that?”

He nearly ascended.

You barely had time to giggle before he flipped you gently onto your back, hair falling into his eyes as he ducked down between your thighs like a man on a mission from God. His hands trembled as he slid your shorts down, breath hitching at the sight of your soaked panties.

“Oh my god,” he breathed out. “It’s real.”

You snorted. “What were you expecting? A hologram?”

“I don’t know!” He cried. “I was starting to believe you were some kind of high-level succubus sent to punish virgins.”

You cupped his flushed face. “Wouldn’t be the worst punishment.”

And then he locks in— eyes meeting yours as he sticks his tongue out, licking a long, fat stripe across your clothed slit. Soft. Slow. As if he was trying to memorize you with his tongue, the heat of it makes you jolt. He’s not just tasting you— he’s learning you, tracing intricate patterns with his tongue like he’s trying to decode you one flick at a time. Every motion is precise yet hungry, like he’s writing a love letter in Morse code directly to your pussy. His glasses slipping adorably down the bridge of his nose, solely focused on pleasing you.

You gasped at the feel of him against you, the pressure of his mouth sent heat curling low in your belly, it was torture. Too much and not enough. You needed to feel him without the barrier of soaked lace clinging to your folds, and he must’ve read your mind, because he groaned like he was the one being denied. He kissed your pussy like he was thanking it, mouthing over your clothed core before dragging open-mouthed kisses across your inner thighs, leaving your skin slick with spit and bites to your inner thighs. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, everything about him felt so warm.

His teeth grazed you— playful, hungry— and your hips twitched as he whispered something nasty under his breath, half to himself, half to your cunt. By the time he slid your panties down, your thighs were trembling, tossing the flimsy fabric aside carelessly, like he didn’t care where they landed, only that they were gone. Then he buried his face between your legs like you’d been starving him for his entire life.

His tongue slipped between your folds, hot and greedy, lapping up everything you gave him like it was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. He flicked up and down with obscene precision, wet, messy, relentless— his nose bumping your clit as he moaned deep in his throat, like he needed this, like the taste of you could make or break him. You were soaked, legs shaking, lips parted in a silent cry, and all he did was keep eating like he was trying to crawl inside you with his tongue.

You were loving the way it feels, every bit of you being hit with electricity. Your fingers tangled in his hair the second his mouth met your pussy, gripping tight, yanking just enough to make him groan into you like he was grateful for the pain. He never slowed down. If anything, it made him hungrier, tongue flattening against your slit before flicking up again, sloppy and fast and fucking filthy.

“God- fuck, you’re so messy,” you gasped, thighs twitching around his head. “You like that? Being my dirty little mouth toy?”

He moaned. Moaned. Into your pussy.

Nodding obediently, even as you tugged harder, grinding him closer. His glasses were long gone, hair disheveled, chin dripping with spit and slick as he slurred out something unintelligible against your clit. His tongue working overtime like he was trying to spell your name in cursive with every flick.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled, words caught in his throat. “I could live here.”

You threw your head back with a laugh— and then a sharp gasp as he got bolder, messier, more desperate. His hands kept you spread, his tongue curling and licking and worshipping like this was the only chance he’d ever get. He was sure that he’d jizz his pants just from giving you head— sure it’s pathetic, maybe even tragic. But he couldn’t help it. You were just too hot, too perfect, too fucking unreal, and the taste of you on his tongue, the feel of your thighs squeezing around his head, it was better than anything his fist or filthy imagination had ever given him.

Your fingers remain tangled in his hair, holding onto him for anchorage. He looked up at you with glassy, pleading eyes, the lower half of his face glistening with your arousal and rosy cheeks. “Tell me I’m doing okay? Please? I read five articles about this. I practiced on a peach.”

You gasped. “You practiced on what?!”

“Nevermind. Just- keep calling me pretty. I swear I’ll die happy right here.”

You tugged his head back down, voice ragged and ruined.

“Then make me cum, pretty boy.”

And he did.

Like a man with something to prove.

Like a nerdy little virgin who had just found his true calling.

Your eyes closed shut at the feeling, falling apart at the seams. Every stroke of his tongue making your insides tighten. You suddenly couldn’t remember how breathing worked, all you saw were flashes of white invading your vision, cumming so hard that you almost saw stars. You cried out, high and broken, hands grasping at his head as you came hard against his mouth.

Jisung moaned through it— loud and messy— tongue never letting up, licking you through every twitch, every gasp, every last jolt of overstimulation until you were tugging at his hair for dear life and gasping for air. Only then did he pull back, lips shiny, eyes half-lidded, face absolutely drenched, and smiling like he just beat the final boss of his entire life.

Somewhere in the past twenty minutes between Jisung nuzzling your thighs like a man starved and moaning like he was the one cumming, you had apparently blacked out, transcended the mortal plane, and been reborn as a puddle of girl.

Now, you lay sprawled across his unmade bed, fully clothed from the waist up and violently ruined from the waist down, chest heaving, eyes wet and glassy, one sock half-off your foot like a casualty of war.

And Jisung?

Jisung was cuddled up beside you like the world’s horniest golden retriever, chin resting on your shoulder, looking so smug and soft it was almost offensive.

You could still feel the ghost of his tongue between your legs.

“You sure you’ve never done this before?” You croaked out, blinking up at the ceiling like it had answers.

Jisung tilted his head innocently. “What, that? Nah. I just�� researched. A lot. And I… uh, practiced on a fruit.”

You turned your head slowly. “Was it the peach again?”

“…It might’ve also been a mango. For tongue agility. But I named it after you, so it was romantic!”

You tried to snort, but it came out as a wheeze. “I can’t feel my legs, Jisung.”

He beamed. “Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“Still taking it as one.”

He leaned in and kissed your cheek, then your nose, then your forehead like he hadn’t just destroyed your entire nervous system with his mouth.

“I feel like I just unlocked a secret side quest,” he victoriously cheered. “‘Satisfy hot girlfriend until she sees God.’ Bonus XP for oral stamina. Am I your favorite now?”

You blinked at him, still fighting for air. “I don’t even know my name right now. You’ve ruined me.”

Jisung squeaked and tucked his face into your neck, practically vibrating with joy. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

“You should. I saw the afterlife. It was just a video game buffering screen.”

He laughed, then rolled onto his back with a dramatic sigh. “I can’t believe this is real. You’re real. Your thighs are real. I had a girlfriend and head privileges all in the same night. I feel like I need to call my mom.”

“Please don’t.”

“Too late. She deserves to know her son peaked.”

You smacked him lightly with the nearest pillow, still grasping for air, still dazed.

And then he smiled at you— so big, so genuine, so sickeningly in love that your tired heart clenched.

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat, y’know,” he mumbled, brushing hair from your face. “Just say the word.”

You looked at him, the boy with anime figures on his shelf, lotion still on his desk, and love in his eyes, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Next time,” you whispered, “I’m returning the favor.”

Mindlessly reaching into his sweats, the second your hand wrapped around his length, you froze.

“…Jisung.”

“H-huh?”

You gave a blank expression. Looking down. Looking back up.

“This is- you’re.. how is this even—?”

“I DON’T KNOW,” he cried. “IT DOESN’T EVEN MAKE SENSE, I’M ONLY 5’7!”

You stared at him like he just told you he had a second life as a Marvel superhero.

“Oh my god, I just assumed you’d be, like—”

“Average?!” He gasped, scandalized.

“No! I just- I mean- look at you! You’re this cute little nerd with anime socks and a keyboard with cat ears.. how are you packing all this?!”

You were in utter disbelief, there’s no way your sweet, stammering little boyfriend had been walking around with a dick that big and had no idea what kind of weapon he was carrying. Just raw, untapped dick potential— XL stats on a man who still apologizes when his knees crack too loud. Poor baby had been lugging around a whole third leg, and didn’t even know the first thing to do with it ;(

He simply shook his head, fully tomato red now, flailing beneath you like he was about to spontaneously combust. He watched you like he was afraid to blink. You pumped him once, slowly, watching him shiver under your touch. His lips parted. His back arched. You hadn’t even gotten started and he already looked completely ruined.

“Can I ride you?” You asked sweetly.

He nodded so fast his head could nearly fell off. “Yes. Yes, oh my god, yes- please, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” You cocked your eyebrow.

“I’ll uninstall League right now if you ask me to—”

You giggled as you rolled the condom down over him, letting his hands greedily grab at your thighs. He was panting, forehead glistening with a sheen of sweat, like his brain was overheating just from the anticipation.

Then you finally lowered yourself, sinking down onto him, gradually, feeling the way you take him so easily from being soaking wet. Jisung mumbles something illegible under his breath as your cunt swallows his cock whole. It didn’t take long for you to reach the end of him since you were already so ready for him, staying in the same position to feel all of him inside you. His cock was splitting you open so nicely, it felt like you were in utter paradise.

And he made the sound.

Like his soul physically left his body, floated into the air, and gave you a salute on the way out.

“F-fuck.. you’re tight, I can’t—” he clutched your waist, eyes fluttering. “I’m gonna die. This is it. This is how I go.” He desperately bucks into you, wanting to feel more movement from you.

You move your hips to match his rhythm as you gain your balance, pressing both hands on his shoulder blades. You bounce slightly up and down on his cock, feeling your walls being filled up by every inch of him. You shifted from grinding on him real slow to picking up your pace indefinitely. Jisung threw his head back against the pillow from the pleasure, the sound of his balls hitting against your ass with the combination of it jiggling as you rode him like a bunny was enough to make him want to burst on the spot.

You leaned down and give him a chaste kiss. “Best way to go, huh?”

He nods vehemently. “Please don’t stop. Ever. I’ll cancel my Crunchyroll subscription for you. I’ll stop buying figurines. I’ll even delete my Genshin account.”

“Okay, now you’re being dramatic.”

He groaned helplessly as you continuously rode him like your life depended on it, breath hitching with every drag of your hips. He was so sensitive, so overwhelmed with it all that he couldn’t stop moaning into your mouth, mumbling broken, incoherent things like, “You feel soso good,” and “I can’t believe I get to have this,” and “Am I still breathing? No? Cool.”

You kissed down his jaw, showing no signs of stopping. You knew this was going to be one of those moments you’d both play on loop in your heads for a long, long time. “Still pretty, baby.”

He pants out. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You simply keep moaning as you kept bouncing on his cock, he was thrusting back into you, going even deeper. Your eyes reaching the back of your skull from the way he was hitting all the right spots. It wouldn’t take long before you started screaming his name and showering him with endless compliments.

“You’re so fucking pretty, Ji.” You were a broken record at this point, nothing but your whines and his grunts filling the room. You felt tense, your clit was throbbing, the pressure build up making you dizzy. Jisung couldn’t keep his eyes off you for a second, the way your tits bounced through your shirt, the way your long acrylics dug into his skin, he wasn’t even sure how he was still alive.

This was better than any of those fake scenarios that he’d absentmindedly create in his head, better than finally beating a level that he’d get stuck on for hours. He was in pure heaven, and he felt his high approaching any minute.

“I-I think ’m gonna cum,” he desperately choked out, rocking into you like a dog in heat.

Jisung was wrecked beneath you. Hands fisting into the sheets, mouth agape, his eyes rolling back every time you sank down fully and clenched around him.

“Fuck, please- please, I-I can’t,” he whimpered, voice shaky, flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. His stomach tightening with every motion, trying so hard not to lose it.

You leaned forward and cupped his face, riding him a little harder, the slap of skin soft but steady. “You said you could take it, baby,” you whispered, voice syrup-sweet. “You begged for this.”

“I know, I- just- pleaseplease can I cum?” he panted, nearly on the verge of tears. His voice was raw, wrecked, like every second you didn’t let him was a cruel punishment. “’m so close, I’m- I’ll be good, I swear, just let me.. please—”

You seal his lips with yours, just to quiet the begging, grinning against his mouth as his hands fumbled for your hips again. He moaned into the kiss, his hips twitching helplessly under yours.

“You’re lucky you’re cute when you beg,” you airly chuckled, pulling back just enough to look down at him. His eyes were wild, glazed over, the pretty sounds he made were like music to your ears.

“Th-thank you,” he sobbed, the gratitude in his voice borderline ridiculous. “’m gonna- I’m- oh my god—”

And with that, he finally let go. Releasing every last drop of his seed into the condom, muscles tensing up, gripping you like you were his only tether to reality. He looked down to see your arousal creating a white, creamy ring around the base of his thick cock, almost about to cum again just from the mere sight alone. Your legs felt like jello, you were weightless, collapsing onto his sweaty, sticky chest as you try to catch your breath, brain all foggy in your post-coital daze.

You didn’t expect him to cry.

Okay— not, like, full sobbing. But a little misty-eyed? A little “what did I do to deserve this?” A sparkle in his gaze as you lay draped across his chest, both of you blissed out and glowing in the soft, RGB-lit afterglow?

Yeah.

He was trying so hard not to sniffle.

“You okay, baby?” You murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the curve of his jaw.

Jisung nodded, eyes wide and glassy. “I just… I thought my first time would be like, awkward. Or disappointing. Or I’d accidentally sneeze into someone’s mouth and get banned from touching boobs forever.”

You laughed against his skin. “Definitely didn’t happen.”

“No,” he grins, wrapping his arms tighter around you, “this was better than anything I could’ve ever imagined in my head. Better than my first SSR pull in Genshin. Better than when I tried the seasonal spicy chicken ramen and lived.”

You tilted your head up to meet his eyes. “That’s a pretty long list of victories to beat.”

“You’re the only victory that matters.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned playfully, “who is this smooth man and what has he done with my sweaty, anime-obsessed virgin boyfriend?”

He huffed, burying his face into your hair. “He’s still sweaty and obsessed with anime. He just… also happens to be madly in love with you.”

You smiled into his chest.

“Also,” he added, completely deadpan, “I think I saw the shadow realm.”

You snorted. “When?”

“When you said I was pretty and grabbed my—” His voice cracked. He covered his face with his hands. “Oh my god, I can’t say it. My ancestors are watching.”

You giggled, shifting to lay next to him and intertwining your fingers with his.

And for a while, it was just quiet. Safe. His hand slowly brushing over your side. Your heartbeat syncing with his. The faint whir of his PC fan still spinning in the corner because, of course, he never actually shut it down.

Then he jolted upright suddenly, as if he remembered something urgent.

“Wait.”

You blinked up at him, amused. “What?”

He slid off the bed, naked except for one, singular sock and scurried to his cluttered desk. You watched, dazed and curious, as he fumbled with drawers and cracked open a cabinet that definitely shouldn’t have had food in it.

Finally, he turned around triumphantly. Holding out a white, rectangular box.

“Pocky.”

You stared. “…Seriously?”

“I always imagined I’d give my girlfriend Pocky after her first time with me,” he said solemnly. “Like a weird little anime reward.”

You sat up and grinned. “You are a weird little anime reward.”

He climbed back into bed beside you and opened the box, pulling out one, white chocolate-dipped stick and offering it with both hands like it was a sacred gift.

You bit it gently from his fingers.

“Mmm. You’re such a good boy,” you purred with a playful smile, “giving me snacks after ruining me.”

He short-circuited. Almost choking on his own Pocky. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I hope so.”

You kissed his cheek, then his nose, and then— just to mess with him— you whispered, “Still thinking about how big you are, by the way.”

Jisung made a noise so high-pitched it could only be heard by dogs. He flopped face down into the sheets, flailing helplessly while you laughed and straddled his back.

“You have to stop saying things like that,” he muffled into the pillow.

“Why?” You asked sweetly, brushing his hair back. “You’re my pretty boy. I’m just appreciating what’s mine.”

He peeked up at you, still pink, still glowing.

“…Promise you’re mine too?”

You leaned down and pressed your lips against his, soft and slow.

“Always.”

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz smut #han jisung smut #han jisung x reader #stray kids smut #skz imagines #skz scenarios #han jisung imagines #han jisung scenarios #skz fluff #han jisung fluff #han smut #han x reader #han jisung x you #skz fic #skz fanfic #han jisung oneshot #stray kids oneshot

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seungisms · 3 months ago

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( skz reaction ) threesome with another member .ᐟ

🖇️📂 who your skz boyfriend would like to have a threesome with/how they’d act during it

genre: smut, minors dni, warnings: unprotected sex, public sex, threesome, double penetration, creampies, degradation, voyeurism, humiliation kink, polyamorous/sharing implications, note: more inexperienced!jeongin cause i clearly have some sort of a problem now 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

방찬. BANG CHAN

(minho)

chan would be the first to admit that he loves watching you get yourself off, something about you struggling to cum and begging for his cock as your fingers pitifully pump into your pussy just makes his dick so full. but what he won’t admit is how much he wants to see you get fucked by someone else. can definitely see him turning to one of the older members and with how close he is with minho he would be his first choice. so when you made an offhanded comment about how attractive you found minho he saw it as the perfect opportunity to finally get his bandmates cock into you. which is how you found yourself sandwiched between the two in some empty supply closet in the middle of a set, the muffled voice of their backstage manger ringing faintly in your ear and going ignored by the two - minho far too busy with working your cunt open on long fingers, curling them deep and slow against your cervix, muttering the filthiest shit in your ear, “always knew you wanted me, could practically feel you fucking me with your eyes everytime i came around.” an utter contrast to the way chan was simply pressing his cock into the curve of your ass from behind you, pressing you even further into his friends chest, burying his nose into your neck as he watches over you shoulder how minho flips up your skirt to get a better look at your cute cunt, groaning when it greedily eats his digits up.

“you like that baby? like minho taking care of you?” and you can only respond with a pathetic whimper - wanting, needing, something longer and thicker to fill your pussy up with. and you hate the way minho knows this, chuckling at your eagerness as your eyes follow his slow movements of unbuckling his belt, chan propping your back up against his chest and spreading your thighs, giving his bandmate full access to his girlfriends cunt. and you would’ve almost forgot about your boyfriends presence if it weren’t for the hot press of his cock prodding against your backside. minho fucks you like he’s waited his entire life to, cock bullying its way into your pussy, stretching you out with every full inch that nudges into you. doesn’t even give you time to adjust to his size, pumping himself into your small cunt and forcing you to take everything he gives you, no matter how much you struggle. but chan is guiding you through the whole time, with pretty words and sweet praises, keeping you steady on strong arms while minho feeds load after load of cum into you. “c’mon, take it pretty girl. i know you can.” and chan is cumming with you both, making a mess of his briefs when he watches minho pull his dick from you - the sight of his girlfriends pussy ruined and dripping in another mans cum going straight to his cock. can definitely see chan having minho join you both again, even just to watch - he’ll just never let on how quickly he came from watching another mans dick find home in your pussy.

리노. LEE MINHO

(seungmin)

minho always had a friendly rivalry with seungmin that you constantly seem to have to break up. they couldn’t help themselves from bickering over trivial things - who’s the better dancer, who’s funnier, who’s better looking. they love getting a rise out of eachother. until it’s not so friendly anymore, seungmin swearing one day he could get a girl off better than anyone. and minho sees it as nothing short of a challenge. so you can’t say you’re surprised when you find yourself pressed into the small worn out sofa in your apartment, your group movie night suddenly flipped on it’s head and now seungmin had his buried between your legs. and he won’t let up for a second, determined to make a liar out of your boyfriend as he slobbers, and licks and groans into your pussy - your little bud almost raw and swollen from his incessant stimulation. and minho can do nothing but watch from the other end of your couch, stroking your hair from where your head lay on his thighs, shushing your cute whimpers when his friend nudges a long finger past your folds, fucking in and out of your cunt to coax more of those pretty whines out of you. “that’s it sweetheart, let seungminnie look after you.” it doesn’t take long for seungmin to force an orgasm out of you, lapping up your sweet cum with a satisfied hum, giving a final pinch to your sore pussy before pulling away with a smug grin. and minho doesn’t give you a minute to recover, wanting nothing more than to wipe that fuckass smirk off his bandmates face, pressing his tongue hot against your sensitive clit - not giving a shit his friends salvia was dripping with your cum past your bud.

somewhere along the way they forget about their stupid competition, focused more on stuffing all your holes full to the brim with cum. they’re not shy about it either, taking turns to fuck your throat and pussy - getting to the point where you can’t tell who’s who and what cock was currently abusing your poor cunt. and you’re left feeling so powerless between them, going limp somewhere along the way with the help of minho’s strong arms keeping you up right, back pressed against his sweaty chest as he fucked into from behind - cock curved and kissing impossibly deep - seungmin propped between your spread legs, dick forcing it’s way into you everytime your boyfriend pulled out, determined to not leave you feeling empty for a second. and it’s almost too much, having two dicks fuck you at once going straight to your head, pussy pulsing and begging for a break. but they won’t let up until you’ve been fucked throughly, dripping in cum and unable to hold anymore. and it seems like their silly rivalry didn’t even matter to the both of either of them anymore.

창빈. SEO CHANGBIN

(felix)

you were constantly fighting for your boyfriends attention. it felt like he always had an excuse to hang out with felix instead. oh, you wanted me to go shopping with you today? sorry, i already went with felix. you want to go out for dinner later? can felix join? babe, felix showed me this new movie that’s out! oh, you want to come? we only got two tickets. everywhere your boyfriend was felix seemed to follow. it got to the point that changbin couldn’t ignore the tension between you both anymore - he wanted nothing more than for his two favourite people to get a long - so what better way to get rid of tension than to fuck it away? i mean, he does everything with felix, why not let him do you too? you had reluctantly agreed when you heard how eager felix was, not expecting much from the younger boy - but god, were you glad you did. especially with the way your boyfriends groupmate was doing everything in his power to prove himself to you, pressing into you from behind until he was buried to the hilt inside your pussy - struggling to hide his soft whimpers when you clench down and press around him like a vice, determined to milk him for all he’s got. and he can barely keep up with the pair of you, locking eyes with changbin who couldn’t care less about his younger friends slipping composure, settled against the headboard of your bed with you propped between his spread legs, licking and suckling away at his veiny cock - forced to hit the back of your throat everytime felix can’t help himself but nudge himself deeper into your cunt - thrusting you forward onto your boyfriends dick.

felix can’t help himself but get so carried away, still fucking himself into you when you’ve long since tapped out, so drunk on the feeling of your pussy sucking him in that he can’t even think straight, only with his dick. and he’s so apologetic too :( “I’m sorry, sorrysorrysorry. just wanna fuck you so bad, wanted to fuck you for so long.” but his constant chants for forgiveness fall on deaf ears as he just continues to nudge into you even deeper and faster than before, eager to paint your pretty pussy in his cum like he’s always wanted to. and you don’t have the strength to stop him, looking up at your boyfriend through tired eyes as he shushes your whimpers, having abandoned his cock long ago while his friend bullies your cunt. but he supposes he can forgiev you just this once, you look so sweet getting dicked down :(

현진. HWANG HYUNJIN

(jeongin)

jeongin was never subtle about his crush on you. he felt like a teenager again whenever he was around you - stumbling over his words when you made the simplest of conversations with him, eyes lingering a little too long anytime you showed the slightest flash of skin, popping a boner whenever you greeted him with a hug - he always seemed to think with his dick with you around, so he thought it easier to start ignoring you, and your boyfriend definitely noticed. hyunjin could hear the youngest whimpering your name at night, closing himself off to the other members cause he just felt so guilty for being so attracted to his hyungs girlfriend. but if anything your boyfriend found it cute, sweet even - so he was more than happy to share you with his maknae. poor boy couldn’t believe his ears at first, thinking it was some sort of sick joke but that was too mean even for hyunjin, and he couldn’t possibly let the opportunity of finally finding out how tight your little pussy really is pass. he’s so awkward the whole time, not knowing exactly what to do with his hands, looking up at you so sweetly from between your legs begging for some sort of guidance, whimpering into your greedy kisses and getting too excited that he forgets how big his dick is - fucking so deep inside of you it’s almost painful.

but hyunjin is there to keep him right, telling him how you like to be fucked, reminding him to keep stimulating your clit while pushing his dick into you, not to be afraid to slap you around a little - and jeongin is addicted to the way your body seems to respond to all of this. lets you use him in anyway you like, sitting yourself down onto his thick cock and using it to get yourself off, forcing your fingers into his mouth and making him suckle on them while he stares at you through big eyes, not believing he really had you here, fucking your tight cunt on his cock. it was better than any wet dream he’s ever had. as much as hyunjin loves his younger friend, he loves your pussy even more. and he’s soso impatient, especially as he watches you struggle to cum, it has him actually feeling jealous that he wasn’t the one buried inside of you right then. and he can’t help but to settle himself behind you, positioning your body until your chest was pressed tightly against jeongins’, cunt still stuffed full of cock before your boyfriend is forcing his own in, stretching your pussy around two dicks and for a second you fear they’re gonna rip you in half with the way they’re abusing your poor cunt. but hyunjin simply pushes your little whines, smoothing a hand over the arch of your back as you struggle and gasp on both their dicks. “it’s okay sweetheart, i know you can take the both of us. isn’t that right innie?” and jeongin can only manage a whine in response, brows furrowed as he thrusts his cock into you in time with hyunjin, hoping, praying, that this will never end.

한. HAN JISUNG

(changbin)

jisung shares everything with changbin, his food, his studio, his girl. more than once you’ve found yourself sat on changbin’s cock, fucking the stress out of his muscles as jisung reclined on the studio sofa, hand wrapped tightly and pumping around his swollen cock as he watches you get his bandmate off. changbin was addicted to your pussy, he swears you’ve ruined every other one for him and he’s more than grateful that jisung lets him lose himself in the heat of your warm cunt. and your boyfriend simply responds with, “what are bros for?” but you can’t complain, not when you have two men stimulating your cunt day in and day out, the other busying themselves with work or simply watching from the corner of the room while fisting their dick. but they’ve never fucked you at the same time. not until you’ve begged them prettily enough. jisung loves the thought of you filled to the brim with two cocks, and he’s more than happy to give into your sweet begs - but changbin claims he doesn’t want everything becoming too messy, despite having already made a mess by having filled your pussy up with cum more times than he can possibly count. and he doesn’t give in, not until you already have him too weak and pussy whipped to care. “please bin, need you so bad. just want my two boys to make me feel good,” and he’s cracking.

changbin wonders what the hell he was thinking holding out on you for so long, sweat gathering at the base of his neck as he struggles to fit his cock past your folds, you were already so tight to begin with - but with jisung already bottomed out inside of you long before, your little hole couldn’t take much more with the way it was twitching and fluttering with every inch of cock that was pressing into you. god he didn’t think you could be any hotter. but you were so cock hungry and greedy that even though your pussy was struggling to take them both you were still begging for more, taking anything and everything they’re willing to give you. jisung is so sweet to you too, thumbs keeping your folds spread so that his friend could push into you easier, leaving soft kisses against the flushed skin of your neck and muttering sweet praises in your ear as you gasp and close in around both their cocks. “shhh baby, that’s it. just open up a little more for us.” and when they finally both bury themselves inside of you they’re completely ruining your poor cunt, painting it with cum again and again until you’re sore and dripping in it, fucking your little hole until it’s memorised every curve and vein of both their dicks. yeah, jisung is more than happy to share with changbin.

필릭스. LEE FELIX

(hyunjin)

felix is a pushover. he knows how hyunjin feels about you and vice versa, and he’s such a people pleaser that he wants nothing more than to give you what you want - he just didn’t think you would want his friend. he tries to convince himself he’s only doing it to shut you up, to stop you pining over his goddamn bandmate but as he sits there and watches his friend fuck you, there’s no ignoring the slight twitch of his cock when you whimper and grind down on hyunjins’ dick. he tries reminding himself how wrong all of this really is - but he can’t help from slipping into his briefs, fisting a hand around his slick cock and pumping around it in time with his friends slow ruts into your cute pussy. getting a perfect view of your cunt struggling to stretch around a cock was almost worth the agony of seeing you with another man - and then you look over to him, pretty lips parted and eyes completely unfocused and fucked out, yet begging for even more. “lixie, please. want the both of you so bad.” felix just can’t find it in himself to not give his baby what she wants.

he’s unsure at first, fingers pressing down on your clit as hyunjin nudges himself even deeper into you, coaxing small whimpers past your lips when his fat cockhead kisses the deepest cervices of your pussy, your boyfriend continuing to rub slow circles on your bud, barely getting you off with the nasty way his friend was fucking you. “c’mon felix, she wants your dick. aren’t you gonna give it to her?” and hyunjins’ mocking tone is all he needs to finally give in, slipping his cock out of his briefs to finally find comfort in the warm heat of your cunt, pushing to the hilt inside of you everytime hyunjin pulls out. and felix is ashamed to admit it’s the hardest he’s ever came, watching as your pussy struggles to eat up all the cum that was being forced into it, milking both their dicks until it’s dribbling out past your folds and onto your thighs. he’s so attentive and careful with you after too, kissing you on the forehead after cleaning you up, but not before reminding you - “hope you had fun, cause nothing like that is gonna happen again.” poor boy just isn’t ready to confront how much he enjoyed watching you get fucked by his friend.

승민. KIM SEUNGMIN

(jisung)

seungmin just wants jisung to shut up for once. he’s easily irritable and jisung just seems to know how to push all the wrong buttons. he almost found it funny how quiet his groupmate became around you, words drying up on his tongue and for once he has nothing to say, too busy following the seam of your little skirt and wondering what kind of pretty pussy was hidden underneath to join in on the conversations happening around him. seungmin is more than happy to let you play with jisung as long as it keeps his mouth busy, and with the way he was greedily suckling and lapping at your clit he didn’t have much to say - whimpering and groaning into the heat of your pussy while grinding his needy cock down against the mattress of the bed, desperate for some form of stimulation that only your cute cunt could provide. and seungmin is just there to mock him the whole time, gripping the back of his head to pull his face away from your pussy, cutting his pathetic whine off with a tut. “look at you, don’t have much to say now huh?” jisung can’t even find it in himself to fight back like he normally would, not when your cunt is looking so sad and abandoned without his face buried in it.

seungmin loves breaking his hyungs spirit, not allowing him fuck you until he’s proven to him that he actually deserves it - letting you fuck yourself and grind down onto his face until it’s dripping in your cum and all he can feel, taste, see is you. forcing him to drag the length of his dick through your folds, but never actually allowing him to dip in past your greedy little hole. only eventually lets him fuck you after your boyfriend has already fucked you full of cum and your pussy is left all ruined and sticky by him, spreading your pussy open to let his friend sink his bare cock into you. and all jisung can manage is a soft whimper and a string of thankyouthankyouthankyou falling from his lips, eyes blown and hyper focused on your messy cunt looking so inviting. he barely lasts more than a few minutes once he finally sinks into you, the tightness of your pussy all wet and warm immediately suffocating around him and and milking load after load into it until it’s unable to take anymore of him.

아이엔. YANG JEONGIN

(chan)

you love jeongin, you really do - you just wish he was better at using his cock. it wasn’t like he was horrible, he was just so hesitant with everything - looking at you for permission before touching you where you need it most, always holding himself back from fucking you too rough even though you’re practically begging for it, only fucking into you with shallow thrusts cause he doesn’t wanna break your little pussy with how big his cock is. and he knows he isn’t giving everything you need, he’s just far too lost in his own head, stressed about accidentally making everything awkward if he completely loses himself in the feeling of your plush walls squeezing down on him like a vice, and god it’s so easy for him with how pussy whipped you have him too. chan is more than shocked when the youngest comes asking him to fuck his girlfriend, but you’re a pretty little thing and he can’t pass up the opportunity of breaking in your sweet cunt.

“go on baby, thought you were begging for a big cock to fuck you right. what, so now that it’s happening you don’t know how to act?” chan would be so smug with how fast he’s able to fuck you dumb on his dick, pumping into you real deep and slow until you’re left slack jawed and arching into him, desperate to feel even more of him despite struggling to take what he’s given you so far. and all jeongin can do is stare, stare at the way you turn into complete putty on his hyungs dick, how your cunt struggles to swallow his cock up, how you whimper pathetically when the older boy leaves your cunt, pussy suddenly feeling so empty and cold without something filling it up. but as soon as chan beckons jeongin over to settle between your spread legs that empty void leaves, your boyfriends cock kissing impossibly deep against your dripping walls, fucking you the way you so desperately craved him to. jeongin won’t stop until he’s coaxed orgasm after orgasm out of your little cunt, until you’re left swollen and raw and crying out for relief. and chan stays with you the whole time, keeping you grounded with sweet words as you get every coherent thought fucked out of your pretty little head.

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tangerineastronaut · 4 months ago

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Accidental Pregnancy | SKZ Fake Texts - Hyung line Maknae Line

Pairing: Reader x ot8 (hyung line) Genre: fake texts/reactions, fluff, comfort, and very light angst (chan and hyunjin) Requested: Yes Warnings: pregnancy, images of pregnancy tests, talk of drunk sex, swearing A/N: I'm still sort of on a break, thank you for being patient with me. Maknae line will be posted later. Take care of yourselves <3

Home | Masterlists | Lovelynauts

Lovelynauts: @baby-stay92 @cozypaint @ktt-nz @pixie0627 @lezleeferguson-120

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niki-phoria · 2 years ago

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pairing: jisung x 8th member!gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: nightmare comfort word count: 598

includes: reader is implied to be shorter than jisung, idk if jisung still sleeps on the couch or not but just go with it, written with male reader in mind

a/n: still debating whether or not i want to start writing for dream so until i make up my mind enjoy a fluffy jisung drabble bc i'm in love with him <33

it feels like a weight has been pressed against your chest. the air has been forced out of your lungs, leaving you desperately gasping for air when you’re finally released from the monsters plaguing your own head. a thin layer of sweat covers most of your skin - a physical reminder of the discomfort that still lingers.

you push the covers off of your body before glancing over at where renjun is still peacefully sleeping on the bed across from you. the familiar sight brings you a small amount of comfort, though you find yourself longing for something else. someone else.

the floor feels cool against your bare feet as you swing your legs off of the side of the bed. you shake off the last of your doubts as you stand up, quietly making your way over to your bedroom door and disappearing from the room.

the trek through your hallway is a short one. you run your fingers along the wall beside you as you carefully make your way through the dorm, careful not to trip on anything that could be unexpectedly in your path.

you find jisung laying on the couch, wrapped up in a thick blanket. despite his overly long limbs being curled up slightly to accommodate for the small amount of space, his limbs sometimes slip off of the edges.

he stirs when you softly chuckle at the sight, rolling over to flip onto his side. “y/n?” jisung mumbles. blinking up at you through tired eyes he watches as you cautiously take another step across the hardwood floor in his direction. your steps are feather-light - almost as if you’re worried of disturbing him from his rest.

jisung props himself up on his elbow, squinting at you in the darkness. despite the dim lighting, he can recognize the loose fit of a t-shirt you must’ve stolen from him.

“come here,” he gestures. the blanket that had previously been wrapped around his body pools around his lap as he outstretches his arms towards you. catching your bottom lip between your teeth, you quickly make your way over to the couch. jisung shifts to the side before all but pulling you down so you’re sitting down on the cushions beside him.

his hands feel warm against your skin as jisung brushes his fingertips against your cheek. you coil into his touch, eyes fluttering shut at the desperately needed comfort. “what’s wrong?” he whispers. his voice has dropped dramatically, barely audible despite the silence.

“nothing. just a… stupid nightmare.”

a slight frown tugs at the corners of jisung’s lips. he reaches out with his left hand, gently tugging your body even closer towards him. you’re quick to reciprocate, wrapping your own arms around his waist and leaning your head against his shoulder.

you can feel the hesitation in each of jisung’s movements as he cautiously begins to rub a comforting hand against your back. you find yourself chasing after his warmth almost unconsciously - chasing after the safety that always seems to come with being wrapped up in his arms.

a few comfortable minutes of silence pass before jisung speaks again. his voice is soft as it cuts through the quiet - the words quietly mumbled into the crook of your neck. “do you want to talk about it?”

“no,” you murmur, relaxing further against his touch. sleepiness slowly begins to creep up on you once again as your eyes slowly begin to flutter closed. “just wanna stay with you. if that’s okay.”

“of course it is,” he smiles, leaning down to press a chaste kiss against your forehead.

if you want to support me please consider leaving a like, comment, or rebloging !! and if you enjoyed this fic check out my txt or enha works :))

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jeonjungkookenthusiast1997 · 2 years ago

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This was a super cute read 😍 I really liked the radio phone in scene and the ending was just perfect 🥰 thank you for sharing your lovely work 💙

Hellfire | Han Jisung

✧ Genre: Soulmate!au, angst, fluff

✧ Summary: When you were still an innocent, naïve child, you happily dreamt of fighting dragons to save the prince from his tower and sailing on the sea with your pirate comrades. These days, you can hardly recall the last time you had felt happiness in the realm outside of your dreams - and when you start to feel the side effects of an antidepressant, even your safe space becomes a hellfire.

✧ Word Count: 3.4k

✧ Want to read other parts of this series? Check out my masterlist!

✧ Trigger Warning: mentions of depression, mental illness, and implied suicidal thoughts + side effects of prescription drugs

✧

When, exactly, was the last time you felt relatively normal? Not in the sense of an establish lifestyle, per say, rather in the idea of your safe space of a bubble being sprinkled with meaningful emotions tied into your day to day life. You couldn’t quite recall the last time you felt truly… happy, outside of the dark nights in which you curled up into a roll of thin blankets and let your eyes flutter shut as the drowsiness swept over your senses, leading you into a deep sleep.

Even now, as you flipped through the pages of your sketchbook in the middle of art class, much to the displeasure of the teacher attempting to show the quaint class a new technique in the form of oil paintings, you felt the lingering traces of joy running through your veins; but nothing that overwhelmed your brain with happiness. The art teacher paid you no mind, though, the younger woman knowing too well that a majority of her students interested in the arts had the odd habit of doodling away in their treasured sketchbooks - even in the midst of one of her own lessons.

You stopped flipping idly through the tattered pages of the practically ancient leatherback book momentarily, pausing at the familiar sight of a drawing you had made a couple of months ago. The piece screamed something relative to a sort of childish innocence, the sandstone tower peaking out over a horde of spruce trees resembling one you might have seen in a storybook when you were younger. But you knew better than that, as it was only one of the many illustrations inspired by the colorful dreams you shared with the boy who was considered to be your other half by the widely expanding universe itself.

Perched atop the pale, sort of yellowish fantasy tower was a swamp green dragon baring its stained fangs at the approaching shadow of what looked to be a woman clad in heavy plated armor, the delicate trim of the steel ridges visible even on the thick, tan paper. From the strange, singular window punched out in the sandstone mold resting under the body of the snarling beast there was the silhouette of a boy your age peeking out from over its edge in curiosity, his faint blonde hair dusted with the faint streaks of light pouring out from the sun that wasn’t even on the page itself. In the dreams that the two of you shared pretty much every night or then some, you and the boy who called himself Han would partake in various adventures; from slaying dragons to sailing across the stormy sea in search of buried treasure, the two of you were meant to be - quite literally.

Unfortunately, the ache in your heart that never seemed to fade away for good had come back even stronger than it ever had before, only a few weeks ago too. Usually you tried to suck it up and settle with the events of each passing day, but the new wave left you with little to no motivation, as well as general exhaustion. You weren’t too sure why the exhaustion seemed to stop you from dreaming like you normally did, although you had a hunch that it was a way of the universe telling you to seek help before your connection to Han was lost permanently - and you most certainly were not about to let that happen.

You had lost many a battle to depression, ranging from the love of painting on a blank canvas to dancing alone in your room to the sound of your beloved music - but you refused to lose Han, the boy whom you called your soulmate. Nothing could take him away from you, not even your own mind.

Paroxetine, otherwise known as Paxil on the white label stuck to the orange cylinder containing the pills, had been prescribed to you about a week ago, give or take a day or two, by your doctor. Upon the concerns of your therapist, a kind and upbeat woman by the name of Barb [who was a foreigner that grew up in South Korea,] you had decided a while ago to ask your doctor about taking antidepressants. Technically you had been medically diagnosed with depression two years ago, though you opted to try and go through the motions of the mental illness by yourself instead of popping pills - up until now, that is. While there wasn’t a definitive change that you could pinpoint, you did feel a bit more relaxed and focused on the activities you adored.

You were hoping that the pills would also assist in the return of your safe space - your dreams. You missed being able to go on wild, out of this world adventures with Han a lot; and deep down, you figured that he missed you, too. The first five nights were filled with silenced sleep, not even a hint of a fictional world brewing in your head at any given occasion during the night.

Perhaps you shouldn’t have wished for the land of dreams to return so quickly.

No exits. No end in sight. No perspectives other than your own haunting field of vision.

Every twenty-seven years, an evil entity by the name of “It” would emerge from the bellowing shadows of the town of Derry, Maine. You had read the long novel pertaining the story countless times, spurred on by the delight of witnessing yet another of Stephen King’s pieces play out in your head with each word he scratched onto the paper of his desk. Just last year in early September the horror novel had been subject to a modern sort of remake, taking on the identity of both the book itself on the older television series broadcasting before you had even been born. The horrific tale was one you loved dearly, being an avid King fan for so long, but not once did you ever think you would so fall victim to the gruesome monster yourself.

The Losers Club was nowhere to be seen as you stumbled down the empty street of Derry, not a sound to be heard other than your frantic screams and heavy breathing while your legs carried you down the pavement past the old houses and white picket fences lining their yards, strewn with yellow and orange painted leaves that fell from the trees dotting the landscape. It had been chasing you down the street for what felt like hours, the entity clad in its classic clown getup. You weren’t too sure why the clown hadn’t taken on some other terrifying form, since it fed off of fear itself and usually chose to scare its victims half to death before preying on their corpses - but that was the last thing on your mind as you continued to dart away from the nasty predator.

Then, just as you turned a sharp corner to hopefully find solace in the woods behind town, an arm snapped out from behind the library and tugged you towards them quickly. Your head whips around to spot whoever had grabbed you, only your fearful eyes have caught an all too familiar gaze.

“H-Han?”

“Shh, he’s going to hear us! Be quiet and he’ll ignore us for now.” The blonde murmurs in a rush, gently planting the warm palm of his hand over your parted lips for good measure as he forces your body and his own to crouch down behind an overgrown patch of shrubbery. You will your racing heartbeat to slow down, both out of the sudden appearance of the serious boy and the undying fear of being caught by the clown, while you lean against said teenager for both physical and emotional support.

Somehow the clown manages to miss you two entirely, sauntering creepily out of town and into the dense woodland; likely seeking you out so he could make you his next bloody victim. Han lets out a soft sigh of relief, dropping his hand from your mouth and letting his back relax against the wall of the white chipped library panels.

Feeling a wave of similar relief wash over your exhausted body, you scoot backwards and rest your head against his shoulder. “I’m… sorry, about this, Han.” You whisper to the boy softly in apology.

“Hey, don’t worry about it - you can’t control which mind we end up sharing. I guess I just pulled the shortest straw this time.” He chuckled in an attempt to cheer you up, letting one of his plush cheeks rest on the top of your head of hair. “On another note, I’ve been missing you Y/N - you’ve been sleeping well, right?”

Of course he would notice your sudden absence from sharing dreams with him - every night since the day you both figured out the whole connection you both looked forward to being able to see each other after you drifted off into sleep. Neither of you could exactly decide which dream conjured you would share, and of course there was the random nightmare quite like this one, but in general it was still a fun experience - it was reasonable enough that he was worried that you hadn’t been dreaming recently.

“I’ve been doing fine, Han,” you lied through gritted teeth, “just a bit stressed from school and all that bullshit. I guess the stress is affecting my head so much that I just don’t dream as often.” It wasn’t really a lie, but you knew too well why you’d been absent from the soulmate connection the past couple of weeks - your depression had happened to strangle you out of nowhere, and your head seemed pretty preoccupied in trying to fight it off instead of letting you get the experience of seeing your soulmate every night.

“Well, on the plus side we’ll all be on break for a few weeks. I think I might have earned enough money to come visit you!” He breathes out, one of his hands coming to rest on your thigh as he squeezes it out of sheer excitement. “We can finally meet each other in person and - and maybe on our next break you can come to my hometown and meet all of my friends too!”

“I would love that - oh shit, run!” You stumble as you try to quickly stand up, seeing that the fucking clown had to ruin the moment and pop up just feet away, staring creepily at the pair of you leaning against the wall. The once peaceful boy beside you followed your lead, only to grab your hand with his own and charge away from the back of the library.

The rest of the nightmare was just like that single instance - the two of you would find a hiding spot from It and stay there as long as you could, chatting away and comforting one another with warm cuddles; then the cycle would repeat itself when the creature inevitably found you again and chased you around the town of Derry.

When you finally woke up from the hellish nightmare that had only been somewhat bearable by Han’s presence, you realized that your forehead was covered in beads of sweat and your chest was heaving for air. With a startled gasp you push yourself up into a more relaxed sitting position on your bed, noticing how the sheets had ridden up to your thighs and the pillows decorating the comforter had mostly been tossed onto the floor below it.

You glance down at your thigh, lazily tracing the skin where Han’s hand had been what felt like hours ago - he tried his best to comfort you whenever you were frightened or upset, but sometimes you wished that the two of you lived closer together rather than many miles apart. Then, he could actually comfort you in real life and you could go on adventures together in the real world. You just wished he was there with you.

“Goood afternoon ladies and gents! You are listening to 3RACHA Radio this lovely day, welcome, welcome! Unfortunately SPEARB and CB97 could not make it since they’re college kids doing the whole adult thing, I’m sure some of you can relate~”

“Oh, honey turn it up!” Your mom coos excitedly upon hearing the familiar voice echo through the stereo in the car, her fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel as she drives you home from a therapy appointment.

“God, sometimes I think you like these guys more than I do.” You snicker teasingly to the older woman, complying to her wishes and turning the volume on the radio station up so the voice of the host could be made clearer and easier to hear. You had discovered the interesting radio station just a few months ago, though you could’ve guessed that it had been airing a bit longer than the time you found it; they called themselves 3RACHA. They were radio hosts, producers, and regular students.

“Shhh, J.ONE is talking-!” She hisses playfully, effectively silencing you while the pair of you listen to the host speak.

“Anyway, I will run the show alone for now - so welcome to J.ONE’s solo talk show! To start things up, I was thinking that we could bring back a segment where we take the time to do some soulmate one-on-one, since a lot of you missed it while us three were busy doing other stuff. If you want to talk about your darling soulmate, whether it be hoping that you might find them here or just need some advice about your rather complicated connections, just dial the following number and I will pick three people to talk to-”

You weren’t quite sure why you found yourself digging your phone out of the pocket of your pants, or why your fingers typed away at the keypad as you listened to J.ONE list out the phone number to the show. Maybe you just wanted to talk to someone, anyone besides your mom and therapist about Han - and who knew, maybe he was tuning into the radio show as well.

“Hello, welcome to 3RACHA Soulmate Talk! Who am I speaking to right now?”

“Uhh… Y/N, sorry I didn’t actually think I’d go through.” You breathe out, hearing J.ONE take in a deep inhale of his own after you’d mentioned your name. “H-hello?”

“R-right, my bad, I just know someone with the same name is all! So what is up, Y/N? Is your soulmate giving you hell - does J.ONE need to beat someone up?”

“That’s certainly reassuring, I suppose,” you giggle over the line, ignoring your mom’s wiggling eyebrows in the corner of your eyes, “um, well, it’s kind of the opposite of that - I feel really bad for my soulmate.”

“What for, pumpkin?”

“Well, our connection is where we share our dreams together, if that makes sense - his name is Han, by the way… maybe he’s listening. Sorry, I got off track! Um, basically I’ve been having a rough time the past two years. I was diagnosed with depression back then, and for the most part I could deal with it until recently - I got some prescription pills that sort of help, but one of the side-effects is more frequent nightmares.”

“That - I’m truly sorry to hear that, Y/N,” J.ONE mumbles through his microphone at the empty studio, “I hope everything gets better for you.”

“Thanks… well, when we share our dreams it’s kind of a fifty-fifty percent chance on which one we go to; for some reason the past three weeks have just been mine, but like I said it’s all been these hellish nightmares. I feel really bad since it’s technically my fault for putting him through all of this-”

“Absolutely not!” The radio host roared, only to clear his throat awkwardly. “You have nothing to apologize to him - this Han guy, for. If - if he knows, or maybe he’s listening right now, he should understand that soulmates are bonded together till the end of your days, and that this is only one of the many experiences you will go through together as a team. So if Han is tuning in, why don’t you tell him how you feel, truly?”

“Okay, I - Han, if you’re really out there right now, I can’t wait to actually meet you in person one day. You’re one of the people in my life who make me stronger, and… I love you.”

“… that was beautiful, Y/N. I hope that Han is listening right now, because he is one lucky guy. Take care of yourself, alright? I’m sure that he can’t wait to see you, too.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right - thanks for listening to me ramble, J.ONE.”

“No, pumpkin, thank you for calling in today. Alright listeners, we’re uh, gonna take a quick break while I go and get a drink, stay tuned for the next two talkers on the 3RACHA Soulmate Talk!”

You fully expected yet another dreadful nightmare to conquer your thoughts during you nap - you hadn’t really meant to suddenly fall asleep after you got home from school, but then again you’d been so anxious to get home all day since it was the final day of school until fall break.

But what greeted you as you opened your eyes in the state of sleep was anything but a nightmare.

A field of flowers stood proudly before you, stretching across the green grass for miles upon miles from what you could see. Across the horizon, the dreamlike sun was starting to set behind a forest of trees, its yellow and orange rays dotting the landscape and casting faint shadows onto the ground while the sky dipped itself into a hue of pink and blue.

“Goood afternoon ladies and gents! You are listening to 3RACHA Radio this lovely day, welcome, welcome! Unfortunately SPEARB and -”

You turn your head in surprise, hearing the same exact words from just days ago ringing out from what looked to be a lone stereo set on the field before you. Standing beside it was Han, his hands folded neatly in the pockets of a denim jacket while he rocked back and forth on the heels of his shoes.

“Han?”

“It uh - actually it’s J.ONE - okay that’s just my radio name, my real name is Jisung… Han Jisung, actually.” The blonde speaks nervously, his gaze looking anywhere but your own curious one that pierced holes into his skin. “M-my close friends call me Jisung, and I am kind of like… in love with you so if you wanna call me that you can and-”

“Hon-”

“S..meone at - f..ont door!”

You shoot off of the couch in a flurry of sudden emotion and confusion, blinking a couple times while your mom frantically shakes your shoulders to help you wake up. It was clear that Han - Jisung had suddenly woken up from his dream, and at the same time your mom had caused you to wake up as well.

“Hey, there’s a group of boys your age at the front door - one of them said his friend was looking for you!” The older woman insists, practically bouncing on her heels as she helps you stand up from the plush couch and walks you over to the cracked door, going to stand off to the side. Too tired and befuddled to think clearly, you slowly open the front door to be greeted by three boys, none of which you had the pleasure of meeting before.

One of them, a boy just taller than you with cute freckles splattered across his cheeks, bowed a bit to you in greeting, appearing to be hiding someone behind him - how strange.

“Erm, you’re Y/N, right?” He questions you, letting out a sigh of relief when you nod groggily at him in reply. “Thank god we got the right house - shit, this is probably super sudden, but uh… I’m Felix, one of Jisung’s friends,”

“I’m Hyunjin!”

“- and I’m Seungmin.”

There was no fucking way.

“Ta-da~” All three of them echoed at the same time, separating just enough to reveal the yawning, chubby-cheeked boy behind them.

You had to be dreaming.

“- h-hi, pumpkin… surprise?”

You didn’t utter a word, too stunned to do anything but let your lips gape in shock and your eyes start to water in overwhelming emotions. Taking one look at you, Jisung chuckled softly and took a step closer to you, wrapping his arms around your neck and pulling you into his chest.

“I’m so glad that you never hurt yourself, pumpkin - I’m so fucking glad that you’re still here, even after fighting for so long.”

For once, you were happy that you weren’t dreaming.

✧

#stray kids #stray kids drabbles #stray kids imagine #stray kids scenario #stray kids au #stray kids soulmate au #han jisung #jisung imagine #jisung scenario #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #skz au #han au #kamino-ink

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skzophreniic · 2 months ago

Text

⍣ ೋ cw: explicit sexual content, neighbors to lovers, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), reader first orgasm, soft dom Han Jisung, emotional vulnerability, praise kink, mention of toxic relationship, slight exhibitionism (thin walls), slight degradation of ex-boyfriend, aftercare, fluff, soft angst (parental neglect), mdni

notes: in which han jisung hears you faking your orgasms through the walls of your apartment--and things spiral from there.

The walls in this building are a joke.

Half an inch of drywall. That’s all that separates his shitty one-bedroom from yours. He’s counted.

It’s not like he meant to know so much about you. He’s not trying to eavesdrop on every late-night argument, every hungover FaceTime call, every time you drag your heavy Econ textbook across the floor.

He just lives here.

And unfortunately, so do you.

Jisung never asked for the proximity. He never asked to know the way your voice rises when you're tipsy or how you only sing when you thinks no one can hear. But he does. He knows. He knows you eat too many frozen waffles and tha tyour microwave beeps twice before you remember to take shit out. He knows the name of your boyfriend, the sound of your laugh when you’re trying too hard, and worse—

The exact pitch of your moans when you’re faking it.

Because you fake it. Every damn time.

And he would know. He’s had the misfortune of being hard at 2AM with your paper-thin walls pressed against his back and that sorry excuse for sex filtering through his second-hand studio monitors like a mockery of porn.

It’s always the same: breathy gasps, your boyfriend’s awkward grunting, the bed springs squeaking like hell, and then—

“Oh my god, yeah, just like that...”

Flat. Perfunctory. The kind of moan that sounds practiced. Rehearsed. Completely unconvincing.

Jisung rolls his eyes and turns the volume up on his mix.

Not because it bothers him. Not because he cares.

It’s just distracting.

He’s got better things to do than think about the pretty girl next door faking orgasms like it’s a part-time job.

Like finish this track. Like land an actual gig. Like figure out how the fuck he’s going to keep affording rent in a city that eats people alive and doesn’t even burp after.

He’s not interested.

He’s not.

Except—

Sometimes he wonders what it would sound like if you meant it.

What you’d sound like if someone took their time. If someone made you come for real, dragged it out of your with fingers in your hair and lips on your neck and the kind of steady, brutal rhythm that doesn’t stop until you’re shaking.

What you’d sound like if it were him.

Jisung curses under his breath and drags his headphones off.

His eyes are dry. His dick’s half-hard. His track’s going nowhere.

Cool.

Maybe he just needs to… do something. Anything. Something mundane. Something that reminds him he’s a functioning adult with a trash bin and a spine and better things to focus on than the soft moans of the girl next door and the way they don’t sound quite right.

He grabs the overstuffed trash bag by the door, ties it with too much force, and makes a beeline for the hallway before he can talk himself out of it.

The fluorescent lights hum. The elevator’s broken again. Everything smells vaguely like burnt toast and someone’s fruity shampoo.

This building is hell.

He loves it.

Jisung drops the bag down the chute, lingers a second too long just to feel the rush of cold air against his face, then heads back.

He’s barely two doors away from home when he sees you.

You’re standing outside your apartment, arms crossed over your chest, loose sweatshirt slipping off one shoulder like it’s been a long night. Your boyfriend—Jason? Jared? Justin?—is leaning in too close, his mouth moving fast. Jisung can’t make out the words, but the tone’s familiar. Sharp. Defensive.

The boyfriend tries to kiss you.

You turn your face away.

Jisung doesn’t mean to stop walking. His feet just… do.

“I said I’m tired,” you mutter.

“Oh, you’re tired?” the guy snaps, way too loud for this dingy little hallway. “You weren’t tired twenty minutes ago when you were riding my dick, were you?”

Jesus.

Jisung should keep walking. Should disappear into his apartment and mind his business like he always does.

But instead, he just—

“Hey.”

His voice comes out cracked around the edges, like it hasn’t been used in a while. Which is accurate. He hasn’t really spoken to anyone in three days. Not unless you count the talking he does into the mic when he’s laying down verses at 3AM.

You both turn to look at him.

Jisung tries to smile.

It’s more of a grimace.

“You, uh…” he clears his throat, glancing at you instead of the walking ego next to you. “You okay?”

You hesitate.

The boyfriend doesn’t.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Jisung shoves his hands deeper into his hoodie pocket. “Neighbor.”

The guy blinks, then laughs. “Oh. So you’re the one blasting that emo SoundCloud shit through the wall every night?”

Jisung winces. A breath stutters out of him like he’s been lightly slapped.

Then he notices it—you wince, too. The tiniest flicker of guilt flashing across your face, so fast he almost misses it.

And yeah. Okay.

That stings more than it should.

“I didn’t say it was shit,”you mumble under your breath, clearly meant only for your own conscience.

“Don’t worry,” Jisung says quickly, forcing a light tone as he scratches the back of his neck. “It’s fine. Totally fair. Some of my stuff is… uh. Kinda dogshit.”

The boyfriend grins like he’s just won something.

“Glad we agree. Thought I was gonna have to explain how sound works to a wannabe DJ.”

Jisung opens his mouth—then closes it again.

Not worth it.

Definitely not worth it.

Except you’re still looking at him. Still standing there with your arms folded tight, sweatshirt slipping down further. And your face—

There’s something in it. Not pity. Not sympathy.

More like… regret.

He hates that it softens him.

The boyfriend, oblivious, barrels on. “Anyway, next time you feel like giving a concert at four in the morning, maybe wait until someone asks.”

“Next time you feel like giving headboard percussion lessons at two,” Jisung mutters, “maybe make sure she actually comes.”

The words leave his mouth before his brain catches up.

Instant silence.

You gasp. Cover it with your hand, like you’re trying not to laugh—or scream.

The boyfriend just stares at him.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

Jisung shrugs, already stepping toward his apartment door. His hands are shaking a little, but he keeps his voice light.

“I mean, the moaning’s impressive. Real Oscar-worthy shit. But you’d think a guy who talks that much would at least know when he’s not doing it right.”

“You little—”

“Hey, man.” Jisung turns back for half a second, nodding at him with a crooked, tired smile. “If I can tell through the wall that she’s faking it, that’s not on her. That’s on you.”

He shuts the door behind him before the guy can even finish winding up his insult.

Click.

Deadbolt.

Silence.

Except for the thundering in his chest.

Jisung exhales hard, forehead thunking against the door. “What the fuck did I just do?”

He sinks down to the floor like his legs have given up. Which, to be fair, they kind of have.

This isn’t him. This isn’t what he does.

He doesn't talk back. Doesn’t mouth off. Doesn’t insert himself into other people’s messy lives—especially not yours. He barely speaks to delivery guys. Half his social life happens through a pop filter.

And yet.

“You’d think a guy who talks that much would at least know when he’s not doing it right.”

God. It was kind of funny.

But still—Jesus.

Jisung scrubs both hands over his face, embarrassment curling in his gut like a hangover.

Across the wall, he hears footsteps. Muffled shouting. The boyfriend’s voice, sharp with wounded ego. And then—

The unmistakable slam of a door.

Silence.

No more voices. No more fake moans. No more anything.

Jisung doesn’t move.

Eventually, when the silence stays long enough to feel safe, he hauls himself up off the floor. Brushes dust from his sweats. Tries not to replay what he said out loud like a greatest hits compilation of shit he absolutely should not have said out loud.

____________________________________________________________________________

He sleeps like shit.

Of course he does.

And when morning comes, it hits in a wave of cheap sunlight and neighborly noise.

He hears your usual routine unfold with near-perfect familiarity: fridge door opening, kettle clicking on, cabinet slam (twice—you always forget which one holds the instant coffee). Muffled cursing. Zipper. Then keys jingling against the lock.

He listens as you step out, lets the door fall shut behind you, and walks down the hall toward the stairs.

Everything is the same.

And none of it is.

Because this time, when you leave,your footsteps pause right outside his door.

Just for a second. A breath.

Then gone.

He groans and pulls the blanket over his face.

The rest of the day moves in its usual haze. Jisung does what he always does: noodles with a half-finished beat, eats instant ramen over the sink, ignores three texts from Chan asking for an update on the mix. His headphones stay around his neck most of the day, never quite getting used.

By sunset, the hallway is quiet again.

The beat he’s working on is shit. He knows it’s shit. He keeps tweaking it anyway.

It’s not even music anymore. Just sound. A bunch of clunky, disjointed loops that won’t glue together no matter how many times he messes with the tempo.

He’s just about to scrap the whole thing when—

Knock knock.

He freezes.

It’s soft. Measured. Hesitant.

He doesn't move right away—just sits there in his desk chair like someone just rang the doorbell in a horror movie. Then he leans back slightly, just far enough to peek over the edge of his laptop.

Another knock.

His heart does something stupid.

He stands. Pads barefoot to the door. Checks the peephole.

Of course it’s you.

You’re standing there in leggings and an oversized hoodie, arms cradling a plastic container like its armor. Your hair's pulled back, face bare. You look—

Small.

Unsure.

You lift one hand and knock again, even softer this time.

He hesitates a second longer, then opens the door.

Not all the way. Just a crack.

Your head jerks up. You blink. “Hi.”

He blinks back. “Uh. Hey.”

You shift your weight. “Can I—uh, are you busy?”

He opens the door a little wider, eyes flicking down to the container you’re holding. “No. I mean. Just… failing at music.”

That gets the faintest smile out of you.

“Right. Yeah. I, um…” You hold out the container. “These are for you.”

He stares. “Cookies?”

“Apology cookies.”

There’s a beat.

Then:

“I didn’t bake them,” You admit. “But I did walk two blocks to the overpriced organic place to get them. So. Effort was made.”

He blinks down at the container again, like it might disappear if he stares hard enough.

“Effort noted,” he mumbles.

You shift again, hugging your arms tighter. “You don’t have to eat them. I just—felt weird not saying thank you. Or sorry. You didn’t have to do what you did last night.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, well. Felt weird not saying something. So.”

You stand there in the doorway for a second, both of you clearly unsure of what to do now that the thing you came to say has been said. He should probably invite you in. Or take the cookies. Or smile, or make a joke, or something.

Instead, he clears his throat.

You jump in to fill the silence. “Also, just so we’re clear—I didn’t actually mean the SoundCloud thing. That was… low-hanging fruit.”

He raises an eyebrow. “So you’ve listened?”

That earns him a flush, bright and instant. “Not on purpose.”

“Wow.” He presses a hand to his chest. “What a glowing endorsement.”

“I’m just saying—I wasn’t trying to be a bitch. That wasn’t fair.” Your gaze softens. “Your stuff is good. Better than good, actually. The one with the—uh—strings and that lo-fi beat underneath?”

His eyebrows raise. “Track twelve?”

She nods.

His stomach flips. It’s ridiculous. But that track had been sitting unfinished for weeks, like something he wasn’t sure anyone but him would ever care about. And now she’s standing here—face bare, voice quiet—quoting it back to him like it meant something.

He doesn’t know what to say.

For someone who spends hours arranging syllables and syncopation for fun, it’s laughable how words immediately bail on him when they might actually matter.

“You, uh…” He shifts the container to one hand. “You’ve got a good ear.”

You smile. It’s small. A little sheepish. “I’ve got shit walls.”

That makes him laugh—quiet and surprised.

“I should let you hear more sometime,” he says, before he can talk himself out of it.

You tilt your head. “Yeah?”

“I mean—only if you want to. No pressure. I just thought…”

He trails off, scratching at the seam of his sleeve.

“I’d like that,” You say.

And he doesn’t know what to do with the warmth that blooms in his chest. It’s not huge. It’s not loud. But it’s there—steady and unexpected, curling under his ribs.

“Cool,” he says, voice softer now. “I’ll, uh. Let you know next time I make something new.”

You nod, then shift your weight backward—just enough to start retreating. But not before your eyes flick to his again, briefly, like you want to say something else.

He thinks might.

But all you do is smile—small and real—and take one step back towards your door.

“Goodnight, Han.”

His name on your lips feels like something it shouldn’t. Like a secret.

He nods. “Night.”

And then you turn. Cross the narrow hallway back to your apartment, keys already in hand. you hesitate at the door for half a second—he notices that, because of course he notices that—then slides the key in, disappears inside, and lets the door fall shut behind you with a soft click.

He watches the empty hallway for a beat longer.

He stares at his own door for a moment after he closes it, forehead pressed against the wood like the words you left behind are still floating in the air.

Goodnight, Han.

He hadn’t realized how nice his name could sound until you said it like that.

It echoes in his chest. Warms something that’s been cold for a while.

When he finally moves, it’s slow. He sets the cookies on the kitchen counter, grabs a pen, and flips open the nearest notebook—one he’s barely touched in weeks.

And he writes:

Track idea: starts quiet. Voice sample, maybe hers? Lo-fi beat behind it, soft keys. Let it build. Don’t let it rush. Let it breathe.

He underlines let it breathe three times.

Then he puts his headphones on.

And for the first time in a long time—

The music comes easy.

______________________________________________________________

You never planned on being friends with Han.

The boy next door with the quiet mouth and loud headphones. The recluse who only seemed to exist in studio beats and half-heard melodies through the wall. You knew his name before you knew his face—Han, printed on a mailbox slot too narrow.

Now he nods at you in the hallway. Smiles, even. You’ve learned that they’re rare, his smiles—crooked and shy, like they’re still trying to figure themselves out. You’ve started waiting for them.

Some mornings, you catch him in the elevator, hoodie pulled over messy hair, a takeout coffee in one hand and sleep in his eyes. You say hi. He says hey. He always holds the door for you.

It’s nothing. But it’s not nothing.

And then, one night—it’s something.

It starts with your friend’s voice, high and nervous. “I swear I had your keys. I swear they were just—fuck, okay, check your bag again—”

You’re too drunk to care. Or think. Or stand up straight

Your bag is wide open on the hallway floor, a war zone of receipts, gum wrappers, lip glosses with no caps, and an unopened pack of hot sauce packets you swear you didn’t steal from Taco Bell. Your friend is crouched beside it, frantically digging like she’s searching for buried treasure.

And that’s when the elevator dings.

You don’t even bother turning around. You’re too busy trying to balance one heel on top of a rogue pack of gum like it’s a tightrope.

Your friend, however, freezes. Then straightens sharply, whisper-hissing, “Oh shit—it’s your neighbor.”

You blink. “Which one?”

“The hot one.”

That gets your attention.

You turn—wobble—and there he is: Han. Grocery bag in one hand, hood halfway off, hair a little windblown. His eyes flick from your friend to you, then to the scene at your feet: your life in full chaotic display.

He pauses. Then says, with the softest little blink of disbelief,

“Uh… everything okay?”

You blink right back at him.

Then lean toward your friend—not subtly, not gracefully, and definitely not quietly—and whisper at full volume:

“You’re right, he is hot.”

It echoes.

Down the hall. Into the vents. Probably into the next dimension.

Your friend claps a hand over her mouth.

Han stares at you, frozen mid-step, grocery bag dangling like it no longer belongs to him.

You sway slightly. Flash him a winning, drunken grin. “Hi.”

His ears go pink.

He recovers with a cough and a quiet, “Hey.”

Your friend steps in, trying to salvage the moment. “She, um… lost her keys. And maybe her filter. And maybe also her last three brain cells.”

“I have at least five brain cells,” you argue, eyes still locked on Han like you’ve just spotted the last bottle of tequila on Earth. “Maybe six.”

“Okay,” your friend says sharply, grabbing your arm before you can say anything worse. “She’s drunk. She needs to sleep. You’re right next door. I trust you, I think. Will you—can you—?”

“I’ve got her,” Han says, voice gentle. Too gentle. Like he’s trying not to laugh but also trying not to die of second-hand embaressment.

He steps forward, freeing his hand long enough to steady you when you stumble again. His grip is warm, careful. You immediately lean into it like he’s a weighted blanket.

“Wow,” you murmur. “Strong and polite. A dangerous combo.”

He just smiles—shy and crooked, the way he always does when he doesn’t know where to put his face. “You good to walk?”

“No promises.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘maybe,’” he says, easing your arm over his shoulder.

Your friend sighs, already backing toward the stairs. “If she tries to seduce you, just tell her she cries at Disney movies and once got drunk and tried to fistfight a traffic cone.”

“I won, though,” you shout after her.

Han chuckles.

Your friend throws one last suspicious look over her shoulder, mouthing to Han, text me from her phone if she throws up, before disappearing down the stairwell.

And now it’s just you and Han.

And the heat of your skin pressed to his side.

And the wild, buzzing thought in your brain that you’ve never been this close to him before.

He shifts his weight. Glances down at you.

“You seriously okay?”

You nod. “I feel great.”

“You say that while using me as a crutch.”

“Yeah. But like—a sexy crutch.”

He laughs, head ducking slightly like he’s embarrassed for both of you.

But he doesn’t let go.

And he doesn’t stop smiling.

Han’s arm stays steady around you as he unlocks his door, grocery bag still dangling awkwardly from one wrist. He guides you inside carefully, flicking on the lights with his elbow and nudging the door shut behind you.

You blink, taking it in through a haze: tiny apartment, warm lighting, a bunch of wires and gear by the desk, no couch in sight.

He catches you swaying and steers you toward a plain padded chair by the wall. “Here, sit for a sec.”

You plop down like a ragdoll.

Han crouches in front of you instantly, gently tugging your heels off one at a time like he’s afraid you’ll tip over trying. “You good?” he murmurs, setting your shoes aside neatly. “Anything feel weird? Dizzy?”

You grin at him. “You’re so worried.”

He flushes instantly. “I just—yeah. I mean. You’re really drunk.”

“Yeah, but like, in a fun way.”

“Still,” he mutters, already handing you a bottle of water from the counter. “Drink this. Slowly.”

You take it. “You’re like a… a boyfriend. But like, a really responsible one. Like—tax-paying, call-my-mom-for-me energy.”

Han snorts and gets up, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, you’re done talking now.”

“I’m not!” you call after him as he sets the grocery bag down. “I’m very interesting!”

He just shakes his head, trying (and failing) to hide his smile.

When you blink again, he’s in front of you, holding out a hand. “C’mon. Bed’s this way.”

You pause. “You only have one bed.”

His ears go pink. “You can take it.”

You squint. “Where are you gonna sleep?”

He shrugs, awkward. “Floor. I’ve got blankets.”

“That’s tragic.”

“I’ve survived worse.”

You pout but don’t argue as he pulls you gently to your feet again. You’re warm, wobbly, still clutching the water bottle like a security blanket, and when he steers you toward the bed, you barely resist at all.

He helps you sit, then hands you a second pillow and adjusts the blanket like he’s not trying to combust over how soft you look there. He’s halfway to standing up again when you tug the edge of the blanket higher and murmur:

“Thanks, Han.”

He’s still standing near the edge of the bed, half in the dark, blinking at you like you’ve just short-circuited every single brain cell in his head.

His voice is a little uneven when he says, “Y-Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

You smile at him, all cozy and soft, limbs draped across his sheets like you belong there.

He doesn’t even know where to put his hands.

“I, uh—” He scratches at the back of his neck. “I still have a bit of work to do. Just mixing something. I’ll, um. Be over here.”

You blink up at him. “What kinda work?”

“Music stuff.” His voice cracks a little, and he clears his throat immediately. “I won’t bother you. You can—yeah, you can just pass out. All good.”

“You don’t mind me on your bed?”

Han stares at you for a second too long.

Then jerks his gaze away. “No. I—I mean. No, definitely not. Like, at all.”

He fumbles over to his desk, nearly knocking over a pair of headphones, and drops into the chair like his legs have forgotten how to bend properly.

You snuggle deeper into the mattress, dragging the blanket over your legs with a dramatic sigh. “This is comfy. You have good taste in sheets.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, clicking around on his laptop even though the track’s already loaded.

You giggle.

He pretends not to notice.

You don’t see it—but his eyes flick to you constantly. Quick little glances when you shift, or sigh, or tuck your face into the pillow like it’s your new favorite thing. He can’t not look.

You yawn, cheek squished into his pillow. “You smell nice.”

He makes a sound that’s somewhere between a cough and a quiet plea for mercy. “You should, uh. Try to sleep.”

“Mhm.”

You don’t move.

Just keep lying there. All sweet and sleepy and tangled up in his blankets, on his bed, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

And even though he should be focusing—he really, really should—

Han can’t stop smiling.

He turns back to his screen and presses play, the familiar beat fills his headphones, looping low and steady.

It’s not done—not even close. The layers are uneven, the bass too soft, the melody still fighting to find its place. But it’s something. And tonight, it’s the only thing keeping his hands busy while his mind refuses to stop thinking about you in his bed.

You’re quiet for a while.

He thinks maybe you’ve finally fallen asleep. You haven’t said anything in minutes, and your breathing’s slow, almost even. He lets himself glance over his shoulder.

You’re still awake.

Eyes open. Watching him.

You shift slightly under the blanket, cheek still pressed into his pillow. Your voice is soft, drowsy. “Can I hear it?”

He blinks. “What?”

“The track you’re working on,” you murmur. “Can I listen?”

Han’s heart does a somersault. Or maybe a backflip. Hard to tell through the static in his chest.

He turns fully in his chair. “Now?”

You nod, slow and lazy. “You promised. You said I could listen next time you made something new.”

Right. He had said that.

But not this one.

Not track twelve.

He fidgets with the headphone wire. “It’s not that one.”

You blink at him, confused.

“The one with the lo-fi strings,” he explains, voice quieter now. “Track twelve. I still haven’t finished it.”

“Oh.”

You don’t sound disappointed. Just curious.

He rubs a hand over his face, then offers a crooked little smile. “But you can hear this one. If you want.”

You nod again, eyes fluttering half-shut like the night is finally catching up to you.

He hesitates.

Then gently unplugs the headphones from the jack, letting the soft sound of the track fill the room.

It’s quiet. Dreamy. Bare bones but beautiful—slow, pulsing synth layered under a simple piano loop. There’s a vocal sample buried under the mix, something wordless and airy, like a breath that never ends.

You close your eyes fully this time, listening.

And Han watches you—watches the way your body relaxes into the sound, how your lips part just slightly, like the music is pulling something from you even in sleep.

He turns back to the screen, fingers hovering over the trackpad.

You speak again, barely above a whisper.

“It’s sad,” you murmur.

He doesn’t answer.

“Not in a bad way,” you add quickly. “Just… it sounds like it’s missing something. Like it’s looking for something.”

Han swallows.

Yeah.

That’s exactly what it is.

He stares at the waveform on his screen and says, very softly, “I think it’s trying to say something I don’t know how to say yet.”

You don’t reply. Not right away.

When you do, your voice is already trailing off into sleep. “You don’t have to say it. It’s already in the music.”

And then you're still.

Breathing even. Eyes shut.

Han doesn’t move for a long time.

Just sits in the soft blue glow of his screen, heartbeat slowing down to match yours, wondering how the hell he’s supposed to finish a song when the thing it’s missing is falling asleep five feet away.

______________________________________________________________

It’s been months since that first night.

Since the couchless sleepover, since the drunken key fiasco, since you fell asleep to the sound of his unfinished song.

And in that time, Han has come out of his shell in the slowest, sweetest way possible.

At first, he was shy. Still the hoodie-wearing recluse with his eyes glued to Ableton and his words tucked somewhere behind clenched teeth.

But then he started showing up more. At your door with takeout. With headphones and half-finished demos. With quiet, tentative smiles that stretched wider the more you smiled back.

You got to know him.

He told you about Malaysia—about sticky summers and midnight noodles and the way his parents still call twice a week even though they’re oceans apart. He told you how he moved to Korea for college, studied for a year, and then dropped out when he realized his brain was wired for sound, not textbooks.

You told him about your life, too—your parents and their ever-shifting conditions for love, the apartment they still pay for, the degree you’re grinding out just to prove something. To who, you’re not even sure.

And Han—turns out he’s kind of a chatterbox. Once he’s comfortable, the boy talks. About anything. About everything. With his hands, with his whole face. About samples and synths and the absolute travesty that is powdered parmesan.

Now, it’s like this: casual, constant, inevitable.

You crash at his place sometimes—not because you're locked out, but just because. Sometimes you bring your laptop and do homework on his floor. Sometimes you nap in his bed while he works. You keep a toothbrush there now. A hoodie of his has quietly migrated to your closet.

You even invited him to your graduation this spring. “It’s not like my parents are coming,” you’d shrugged, and Han had just blinked at you, then said okay, like it wasn’t the biggest fucking deal.

He still blushes when you call him hot. Still won’t take the bed when you stay over. Still treats you like you might disappear if he lets himself want too much.

And today, you’re at your place—your couch this time, legs tangled together on either end, killing time the way only two people who are too comfortable with each other can.

Lazy game of truth or dare. No real stakes. Just soft laughter and shared snacks and the kind of questions that teeter between teasing and tender.

Han’s fingers are brushing against your ankle, casual and unthinking. The popcorn bowl is somewhere on the floor, long forgotten. You’re both half-reclined, cozy and loose, a tangle of limbs and friendship that’s been threatening to become something else for weeks now.

You’ve already dared him to do his worst celebrity impression, and he’d made you sing a jingle from one of your old childhood commercials. The kind of dumb, lazy game that only works when you trust someone enough not to twist the blade when things get close.

Now it’s his turn.

“Truth,” you say, yawning, stretching like a cat in the sun. “I’m feeling vulnerable.”

He gives you a look. One brow raised, fingers tapping thoughtfully against his thigh. “Okay. What was your best orgasm?”

You blink.

Then laugh.

He flushes instantly. “Shit—was that too far? I thought we were in the spicy round.”

“No, no,” you say, waving a hand, trying to keep your smile light. “It’s fair.”

But you don’t answer right away.

You sit there for a second, fiddling with the hem of your oversized sleep shirt. His question settles somewhere low in your stomach—not uncomfortable, just… exposed. Like a truth you’ve learned to laugh off before anyone can look too closely.

You glance at him, then say it—half-teasing, like a joke you’ve told a few times before.

“I wouldn’t know.”

Han blinks. “You wouldn’t—?”

You shrug. “Never had one. Not a good one. Not any, actually.”

There’s a pause. His brows lift, lips parting slightly, but you beat him to it with a raised hand and a crooked grin.

“I know, I know. Tragic. I’m either defective or cursed. It’s a toss-up.”

He doesn’t laugh.

You thought he might—just to lighten the mood. Maybe roll with the joke, keep it casual.

But Han’s expression softens instead. Slowly. Like he’s putting something together.

“That’s not funny,” he says, voice quiet. Barely a wrinkle of sound between you.

You blink. “It’s kind of funny.”

“No, it’s not.” He leans in a little, eyes searching yours. “And it’s definitely not true.”

You hold his gaze for a beat longer than you mean to. “Tell that to every guy I’ve slept with.”

He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t flinch. Just says, soft but certain, “They don’t count.”

Something in your chest pulls tight.

You sit back, let out a soft exhale through your nose. Try again, lighter this time. “I mean, at some point, you start to wonder if it’s just you, right? Like maybe I missed a biological memo.”

“You didn’t,” he says, firm now. “You just haven’t been with someone who cared enough to figure you out.”

You snort softly, eyes dropping to his lips before flicking back up. “What, and you do?”

His breath catches, just slightly. But he doesn’t flinch.

“Yeah,” he says. Simple. Sure. “I do.”

You go quiet.

It’s not the answer that surprises you—it’s how steady he is when he says it. Like it’s not even a question in his mind. Like he’s already imagined it, already decided what he’d do if you ever let him.

That steadiness makes your throat go tight.

“Okay,” you say, voice quiet. “Then what would you do?”

Han shifts slightly, eyes locked on yours, his expression unreadable. Focused.

“I’d start slow,” he says, and it doesn’t sound like a line—it sounds like a plan. “Let you get used to being touched in a way that’s not… performative.”

You blink.

He leans in, just a little. Not close enough to touch. Not yet.

“I’d watch your face,” he continues, softer now, “and actually pay attention. I’d figure out what makes you squirm. What makes your breath catch. What makes you ask for more.”

Your pulse thrums at your throat, hot and sharp.

“I’d talk to you,” he murmurs. “Tell you what I’m doing. Tell you how fucking good you look while I’m doing it. Make sure you know every second that it’s about you.”

Your pulse thrums at your throat, hot and sharp.

You don’t say anything. You can’t.

Because Han is looking at you like he already has you spread out in his mind. Like he’s memorizing every microreaction, storing them away like he might need them later. Like he’s already tasting the sound you’ll make when he finally breaks you open.

Your voice comes out low. Barely there.

“That’s a lot of attention for one orgasm.”

Han’s mouth twitches. Not a smile. Not quite yet.

“I’m not aiming for one.”

You feel it in your chest—in your spine—the way his voice sinks into you. Low. Purposeful. Like he’s already in your skin, like the words themselves are a touch.

You can’t breathe.

He’s so close now, and still—still—not touching you. He could. He should. Your body is already leaning into the heat of him, legs still curled beneath you, the hem of your sleep shirt brushing high on your thighs. But he doesn’t move.

“Have you… done this before?”

He blinks. “Made someone come?”

You nod, quick, almost shy.

“Yeah.” His mouth lifts at one corner. “Why?”

You hesitate, eyes flicking over his face. “I… thought you were a virgin.”

Han blinks. Then he laughs—a soft, breathy thing that curls low in his throat.

“Wow,” he murmurs, rubbing the back of his neck, his cheeks already going red. “That’s, uh… new.”

You’re not teasing anymore. Not really. Not with the way your eyes keep flicking over him—his mouth, his hands, the pink creeping up the slope of his neck. Not with how you’re sitting up straighter, how your thighs squeeze just slightly together without meaning to.

He notices.

And it flusters him, of course it does—he’s Han, after all. All nervous energy and soft-spoken charm. But there’s something else underneath it too. Something steady. Something you didn’t see before.

“You really think I’ve spent this much time listening to you fake it through the walls and didn’t fantasize about doing it better?”

Your breath catches. Hard.

His gaze doesn’t drop. Doesn’t falter.

And suddenly, you’re seeing him for what he is—really seeing him.

The slightly older boy next door. The dropout with big hands and bigger dreams. The quiet music producer who hides behind humor but notices everything. The same Han who always opened his door, always gave you the bed, always walked on the street side of the sidewalk—but now you realize he’s been wanting you the whole time.

And you missed it.

You look at him now—and you feel it.

The shift.

Because he’s still Han. Still hoodie-clad and sweet and overly cautious.

But he’s also a man.

And god, it’s hitting you all at once.

The way his eyes haven’t left your mouth. The way he says things like I’m not aiming for one with such quiet, devastating confidence. The way he can be so careful with you and still make your skin burn like he’s already touched you everywhere.

You swallow hard.

“So,” you murmur, voice dipping low, “you’ve done this before.”

His fingers twitch where they rest against his thigh. “Yeah.”

“How many girls?”

He blushes harder at that. Clears his throat. “I mean, not a lot.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“I’m not—” he fumbles, flustered now, voice high-pitched with embarrassment, “—like, I’m not some sex god, okay?”

You giggle. Can’t help it.

He glares, weakly. “Don’t look at me like that.”

You lean in. Let your voice soften. “Like what?”

He shifts under your gaze, eyes flicking down again before returning to yours. “Like you’re surprised.”

“I am,” you whisper.

And you are.

Surprised by the heat in your belly. Surprised by the tension in his jaw, the way he’s not looking away now. Surprised by the fact that the Han you thought you knew—the one who panicked over burnt rice and once apologized to a houseplant—is sitting in front of you, cheeks flushed, voice low, practically thrumming with restraint.

And the restraint is unraveling. You can see it. You can feel it.

His hand is still resting on his thigh. Tense. Useless.

You want it on you.

He must know, must feel the shift in the air, because he breathes out through his nose—shaky, controlled—and finally moves.

Not to kiss you.

Not yet.

Just slides closer, knees brushing yours. Hands braced on either side of your thighs like he’s holding himself back from climbing into your lap. Like if he gets too close, he won’t be able to stop.

His voice is soft when it comes. Careful.

“I don’t wanna mess this up.”

You blink. “What?”

“This,” he says, eyes darting between yours. “You. Us.”

Your heart kicks.

“I’m serious,” he adds. “If you want me to stop, I will. Even if I’ve already started. Even if you change your mind in the middle. I need you to know that.”

You just look at him.

At his flushed cheeks, his trembling fingers gripping the couch cushion, the way his eyes won’t stay still—darting to your mouth, your thighs, your eyes again.

You don’t know how to say what’s clawing up your throat. Don’t know how to explain that you’ve never felt like this. Like you could fall apart and not have to put yourself back together alone.

So instead, you reach for him.

You thread your fingers through his, bring his hand to your thigh—bare skin under the edge of your sleep shirt—and press it there, warm and waiting.

His breath stutters.

“Okay,” you whisper.

His breath stutters.

That’s all it takes.

His fingers flex against your thigh—just a twitch, nothing urgent. But the heat of them sinks in deep. You can feel how careful he’s being, how tightly he’s holding the leash on himself, like he doesn’t trust what’ll happen if he moves too fast.

You tilt your hips slightly. Just enough.

He moves.

Slides his hand higher, beneath the hem of your sleep shirt. Knuckles grazing soft skin, the inside of your thigh, and you’re already trembling. The anticipation is thick—so much thicker than anything that’s come before it. Your body’s aching and he hasn’t even touched you where you need it yet.

Han breathes out slowly. You can hear the effort it takes not to rush.

His fingers reach your panties.

They’re soaked. Clinging to you. And he makes a sound in the back of his throat when he feels it—somewhere between a sigh and a groan, like it’s hurting him, how wet you already are.

“You’re shaking,” he whispers.

“I’m trying not to.”

“You don’t have to,” he says, and leans in to kiss the corner of your mouth. “You can just let me take care of it.”

And you do.

You sink into the cushions and let his hand keep climbing. Let it trail over skin that’s already too hot, too tight, too aware. The hem of your shirt rides up over your hips as he moves, exposing soft skin and damp fabric.

He touches you through your panties first. Just a single stroke—up and down, slow, deliberate.

You jolt.

Your thighs twitch. Your hips tilt into his hand before you even mean to.

His fingers are steady. Gentle. No fumbling, no testing limits just to say he did. He strokes over the soaked cotton with maddening patience, slow enough that your body’s buzzing before he even slides them aside.

He strokes over the soaked cotton with maddening patience, slow enough that your body’s buzzing before he even slides them aside.

When he does, it’s with a breathless little sound—almost like awe.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, voice low and tight. “You’re so wet already.”

You shiver.

He doesn’t ask permission again. He doesn’t need to. Your legs fall open on instinct, your body already offering itself up like it’s been waiting for this. For him.

He dips his fingers into you with quiet care—just the first two, slow and unhurried, and it’s so much. Not just the stretch, not just the slick slide of it—it’s the way he groans like he can feel how good you feel around him. Like your body is turning him on just by existing.

“Holy shit,” he breathes. “How has no one made you cum?”

You whimper.

“Seriously,” he says, fingers curling slightly inside you, rubbing against that spot that makes your toes curl. “You’ve got the prettiest fucking pussy I’ve ever seen. Wet and warm and just—fuck, baby.”

Your hips jolt when he says it—baby—and he notices. His mouth quirks.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, watching your face like it’s giving him instructions. “You like that. Being talked to while I fuck you with my fingers?”

You moan—helpless, high-pitched—and your hand shoots down to grab his wrist.

He stills immediately. “Too much?”

You shake your head. Or maybe you nod. You don’t even know anymore—your brain’s barely holding on, your body dragging you under, soaking up everything he gives like it’s the first drop of water in a drought.

He watches your reaction like it’s gospel. Like every twitch and gasp is holy.

“Thought so,” he says, and starts to move again—slow, controlled pumps of his fingers, careful not to lose that rhythm now that he’s found what works. The way your walls clench when he curls. The way your hips chase him when he retreats. The way your breath hitches when his palm drags across your clit just a little too hard.

And god, he uses it all.

“Fuck,” he mutters, eyes glued to where he’s working you open. “If this pussy was mine, I wouldn’t be able to leave you alone.”

You gasp.

“I’d keep you like this every night,” he says, voice thick now. “Stuffed, dripping, begging for it. Just like this.”

You keen, head falling back against the cushions, thighs straining around his wrist. Another twist of his fingers, another filthy curl, and you’re spiraling again—clenching, grinding, chasing something you’ve never actually caught before.

But it’s still not enough.

Close, so close. You can feel it in your gut, in the burn behind your eyes, in the way your whole body draws tight like a wire about to snap. But then it slips, slithers away like it always does, leaving you aching and wrung out and panting like you’ve been running in circles.

Han doesn’t stop.

He slows, sure. Eases off that pressure like he knows—like he felt the way you were peaking and watched it fall apart all over again.

Your breath stutters. Your hands tremble where they’re gripping the couch cushions. Your whole body shakes with the frustration of it.

Han looks fucking thrilled.

“Shit,” he whispers, eyes glued to the slick mess between your legs. “You’re gonna be a fucking problem, huh?

You whimper—shaky, half-desperate—and try to pull your legs closed, but his free hand slides up your thigh and keeps them open. He’s still panting, still hard in his sweats, and yet somehow entirely focused on you.

Your voice comes out broken. “I can’t—fuck, Han, I was so close—”

“I know, baby,” he murmurs, leaning over you. His fingers finally slip free, soaked and shining, and he brings them to his mouth like it’s nothing. Like tasting you is just a thing he does between breaths. “You’re so fucking pretty can’t believe no one’s ever made you come.”

He sucks one finger between his lips, humming low in his throat, and your entire body jerks.

He grins around his knuckle. Blushy. Sweet. Still Han, somehow—except his eyes are dark now, slow-burning, locked onto you with intent.

And when he speaks, it’s not teasing. It’s reverent.

“I knew you’d taste good,” he murmurs, dragging his hand down your thigh again. “Didn’t think you’d ruin me this fast, though.”

You squirm, still reeling from the touch of his fingers, still aching from how close you came—how it slipped just out of reach. Your panties are somewhere around your knees now, tangled and damp, and your thighs are trembling despite the warmth of the room.

But Han doesn’t give you time to settle.

He drops back down between your legs like it’s instinct.

Like he belongs there.

You brace for it—his mouth, his tongue—but nothing prepares you for how intentional it is.

Because when he licks you, it’s not just lust. It’s devotion.

The first press of his tongue is slow, hot, drawn out like he’s tasting something forbidden. It drags through your folds, slick and maddening, before he pulls back just slightly and exhales a shaky breath against your cunt like it’s worship.

“Fuck,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “You’re so fucking sweet. So wet—dripping for me, baby.”

Your hips jerk. A soft moan tears from your throat, helpless and startled.

He hums at the sound. And then his tongue is on you again—lapping, curling, sliding in lazy circles around your clit, not rushed, not rough. Patient.

But it’s overwhelming.

Too much and somehow still not enough.

You gasp, spine arching. Your thighs twitch against his shoulders again and he presses his hands there—holding you open, keeping you still. His grip is firm, grounding. Gentle only in contrast to the way he eats you.

He groans low when your hips roll, when your slick coats his lips and chin. Like it turns him on more than anything else. Like this is the part he needs.

He devours you like he’s starved for it.

Like he’s been thinking about this—you—for longer than he’s willing to admit. Tongue slow but deliberate, savoring every stroke, every gasp you give him. He doesn’t speak now, doesn’t need to. The sounds alone—your moans, the wet suck of his mouth, the way your breath stutters every time he flattens his tongue against your clit—say enough.

But it’s your reactions that do it. The way your body jumps every time he moves just right. The way your hands scramble for the couch cushions, for him, like you don’t know what else to hold onto. The way your thighs clamp around his head when he groans into your cunt.

That’s when he realizes.

You’ve never been eaten out before.

It hits him all at once—in the way you shiver, in the way your body doesn’t quite know how to take the pleasure he’s giving. There’s something raw about it. Uncharted. Holy.

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t tease. Just lets the knowledge settle deep in his chest like a vow.

So he slows down. Not to drag it out—to care. To guide you through it.

He pulls back just slightly, presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another one, lower, softer. You can feel his breath against your skin, shaky and uneven, like you are unraveling him just by letting him do this.

He kisses down, worshipful, open-mouthed presses of tongue and lips trailing toward where you’re slick and trembling—until he’s back on you, groaning deep in his chest like he needs this to survive.

He laps at your cunt like a man obsessed. Messy, wet, obscene.

His tongue flicks fast over your clit, sloppy and relentless, and when you whimper—high and panicked—his hands tighten on your thighs, dragging them wider, pushing you open like he can’t get enough. His nose presses into the soft swell of you and his mouth won’t stop.

And god—god, the noises.

The slick suck of his mouth, the soft wet licks between your folds, the broken, wanton moans he keeps letting out like your taste is fucking euphoric.

Your thighs are trembling against his cheeks, toes curling against the cushions, hands fisting in the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to this plane of existence. Every time you start to come down, he drags you right back up—tongue flicking, then flattening, then sucking.

You’re soaking him. You know it. Can feel the slick mess coating his lips, his chin, now—but he doesn’t care. Doesn’t even flinch. Just dives in deeper, grinds his mouth against you like it’s the only thing that matters.

And maybe it is.

You’ve never made sounds like this before. Never felt anything like this. It’s a full-body unraveling—pleasure so raw and high-pitched it’s almost unbearable. You can’t even find words anymore. You try—gasp out his name, maybe a plea, maybe a warning—but it’s just breath. Just noise.

He hears it anyway.

Groans in response, and the vibration shoots through you—tightens every nerve, every muscle. You feel it everywhere. In your spine, in your belly, in your fucking teeth.

He licks through your folds like he’s trying to commit the shape of you to memory, tongue dragging over your clit in slow, hard laps now—intentional, devastating. One hand lets go of your thigh to slide underneath you, to lift your hips, tilt you toward his mouth like an offering.

Like you’re his altar and he’s ready to worship.

You don’t even realize you're crying until the tears hit your cheeks—silent and sudden, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of it, the depth of it, the relentlessness of him.

Jisung doesn’t notice.

Or maybe he does and just thinks it’s holy.

Because he’s still moaning against your cunt like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Like this is salvation. Like this is his first time, too.

The warmth is unbearable. Sharp and sweet and all-consuming, climbing up your spine in thick, molten waves that won’t stop—won’t let you go. Your muscles are locking up, your breath catching in your throat, your fingers cramping from how tight you're clenching the cushions.

You’re going to break.

You know it.

You want to.

And he just keeps going—tongue pressed flat and firm against your clit now, dragging in slow, filthy circles while his lips suck softly, reverently, like he’s trying to love you apart piece by piece.

You feel it snap somewhere deep inside you.

The heat—the ache—the need—it peaks.

And then it bursts..

Your thighs clamp around his head, your hips jerk off the couch, your moan rips loose from your throat like you’ve been silenced your whole life and this is the only language your body ever needed to speak.

You’re cumming. Hard. Helpless.

Everything pulses—your cunt, your chest, your fingers. Every nerve is alight, every inch of you clenched and shaking, your whole body seized in the grip of something so big you can’t name it.

And Jisung doesn’t stop.

Not when your legs twitch.

Not when your body tries to squirm away.

Not even when you sob his name, high and wrecked, too sensitive to breathe.

He eats it up. Literally.

Groaning low in his throat, nose pressed to your mound, tongue still working your clit like he wants to wring another orgasm out of you before this one’s even ended. You try to stop him, legs trembling, fingers pushing at his hair with barely any strength behind them.

But he just moans again, long and loud and ruined, the vibration shooting straight through your core.

“H-Han—” you gasp, voice cracked and teary.

But he can’t stop. He won’t.

You’ve broken open for him—shattered for him—and it’s like something inside him snapped too. His mouth keeps moving, lapping through your folds like he’s addicted, like he needs the taste of you to live, sucking every drop from your body like he’s trying to memorize it.

You try again to push him off. This time with real effort. A desperate shove, your fingers fisting in his hair and yanking—not hard, not mean, but urgent.

“Han, please—”

He finally pulls back.

Gasps.

His chest is heaving. His mouth is slick and swollen, the lower half of his face soaked in your release, and he blinks up at you like he forgot where he is.

“Shit—fuck, I’m sorry, I—” he pants, voice wrecked, dazed.

Then he looks down.

And groans.

Because you’re still dripping.

Slick pooling out of you, slow and obscene, catching the light as it runs in glistening streaks down the curve of your pussy and the swell of your ass, soaking the couch beneath you.

And he can’t help himself.

His hands slide up your thighs again—possessive, reverent—and before you can stop him, he leans back in.

One long, filthy lick—from your entrance to your clit—slurping up everything you spilled. He moans as it hits his tongue, deep and satisfied, and swirls it around like he’s tasting honey.

He pulls back just far enough to look at you.

Face flushed, lips swollen and slick, chin glossy with your release. His eyes are glassy—fucked-out and starving and soft in a way that shouldn’t match the filth of what he just did to you. But somehow it does.

Somehow, it makes it worse.

He’s panting like he just ran miles. Sweat dampens his curls, his hoodie clings to his chest, and his cock is still straining hard against his sweats—visibly aching. But he doesn’t even look at himself. Doesn’t even care.

He’s still looking at you.

At the mess he made.

At your cunt—pink and soaked and fluttering with aftershocks, spread open on the couch like he carved you out just for him.

And he fucking smiles.

“Jesus,” he breathes, dragging his thumb along your inner thigh, slow and lazy, eyes still locked on the slick between your legs. “You’re unreal.”

You’re still trembling—wrung out, flushed, completely silent now except for the shattered sound of your breath.

But he isn’t done.

Not really.

Because then his thumb moves—trails closer, closer, until it’s swiping through the slick seam of you, collecting it, spreading it.

You flinch, hips twitching, breath hitching on a wrecked little gasp.

He freezes.

“Sorry—shit, sorry,” he murmurs, voice gone soft in the edges. “You’re probably so fucking sensitive right now.”

You nod, dazed. Barely. You’re not even sure you meant to.

But his eyes drop back down—and the sight of your cunt twitching under his touch, the way slick is still dripping out of you, slow and shiny, pooling where your thighs meet—

It short-circuits whatever restraint he had left.

“Can I…” he starts, already leaning in again, lips parted, breath ragged. “Just—one more taste, baby. Please.”

And before you can answer, he’s there again.

Licking into you.

Tongue flat and greedy, slow and deep, sliding through the wreckage he left behind like he needs it to breathe. He moans—loud—when it coats his tongue, when it drips down his chin, when he presses another kiss to your clit like he’s thanking it for everything.

You can’t stop shaking.

From how tender he’s being while still devouring you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. From how overwhelmed your body feels—stretched between too much and not enough, oversensitive but still wanting.

He doesn’t rush now. Doesn’t try to make you cum again.

This is different.

It’s reverent. Like he’s cleaning you up with his mouth, dragging his tongue through every slick drop, pressing soft kisses into the mess like he’s trying to soothe the tremble in your thighs.

You whimper, just once—raw and hoarse.

That’s when he stops for real.

You sigh into his mouth, quiet and trembling, the kind of sound that only comes when everything inside you is raw—peeled back, exposed, open. He swallows it like it’s precious. Like it matters.

His hand at your waist shifts, pulling you gently forward until your chest brushes his. You’re still bare from the waist down—thighs sticky, breath uneven—and he’s still clothed, still hard, still aching beneath his sweats.

But he doesn’t grind against you.

Doesn’t ask for anything.

He just holds you.

Your knees fall around his hips, lazy and loose, and his thumb strokes the hinge of your jaw—slow, absent, like he needs the contact to stay calm.

The kiss deepens. Not with hunger. With heat. With reverence. His lips move against yours like he wants to memorize the shape of your mouth, your breath, the taste of your tongue mixed with your own arousal.

You break first—pulling back just a fraction to breathe, eyes fluttering open.

He’s already looking at you.

And there’s something in his gaze that wasn’t there before. Something stunned. Struck. Soft.

He whispers, “You okay?”

You nod. Maybe too fast. You feel stripped down to something small and shaking, something new—but his hand doesn’t leave you. His thumb still brushes your cheek. His chest still rises and falls like he’s feeling everything with you.

You whisper back, “I didn’t know it could feel like that.”

Jisung exhales a laugh—wrecked and wrecking.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, leaning forward again to press a kiss to your cheek, then another to your temple. “Then I guess we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

You don’t even realize you’re smiling until he kisses it. Presses his lips right there, at the corner of your mouth, so gentle it makes your eyes sting all over again.

There’s a beat of silence—thick and golden, warm between the ruined rhythm of your breathing.

Then he asks, quieter this time, “Can I hold you for a while?”

And god. You’ve never wanted anything more.

______________________________________________________________

The crowd pours out of the auditorium like a tide—caps slightly askew, diplomas clutched tight, families gathered in little clusters of congratulations and cameras. Laughter. Shouts. The click of heels and the flutter of gowns. You scan the crowd, heart racing, eyes darting.

And then you see him.

Leaning awkwardly against a tree, holding a slightly crumpled bouquet of grocery store flowers and dressed in the nicest outfit you’ve ever seen him wear. Still a hoodie—because he’s him—but it’s black and clean and zipped halfway up over a plain white tee. His hair’s been pushed back, curls tamed, face soft in the sunlight.

Like he wanted to look good.

For you.

You run.

Full sprint, no hesitation. Laughing, radiant, the hem of your gown flying behind you. And Jisung barely has time to react before you crash into his arms—legs wrapping around his waist, face buried in his neck.

He catches you without thinking. Arms locked tight around your back, holding you like the whole world could fall away and he’d still have you.

“Jesus—hi,” he breathes, stunned, grinning into your shoulder.

“You came,” you whisper, pulling back just enough to look at him, eyes glassy and sunlit.

“Of course I came,” he murmurs, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “I wouldn’t miss this.”

You swallow, smile trembling just a little. You’re still holding your cap too tightly. Still searching the crowd behind him, over his shoulder, behind trees and between cars—hoping.

And Jisung sees it.

Sees the flicker in your expression when you realize no one else is coming. No familiar voices calling your name. No parents weaving through the crowd, late and disheveled but here. Nothing.

Just him.

You try to play it off—force a smile, tilt your head.

But Jisung just exhales, jaw tight, eyes warm and sharp.

“Hey,” he says softly, tipping your chin up. “Fuck ‘em.”

Your breath hitches—more from the way he says it than what he says. No apology. No pity. Just truth, blunt and biting and yours.

“Fuck ‘em,” he says again, firmer this time. “They don’t get to take this from you.”

And something in you cracks. Not the kind that breaks—the kind that lets light in.

Your cap slips from your hand to the pavement. You don’t even notice. You just lean forward and let your forehead rest against his, eyes fluttering shut as the noise of the world fades away.

“I thought it wouldn’t matter,” you whisper. “That I didn’t care.”

He nods like he already knew. Lets his hand fall to the small of your back, thumb tracing slow circles through the fabric of your gown.

“But it does,” you admit.

“Of course it does,” he murmurs. “You deserved more than this.”

You pull in a shaky breath. Exhale. Nod against him.

And then you laugh—quiet, almost startled. “God, you look nice.”

He pulls back just enough to give you a crooked smile. “You noticed?”

You sniffle, wiping under your eyes. “You did your hair.”

“I used product and everything,” he says solemnly, and that makes you laugh for real this time. His face lights up at the sound. Then, like he remembers something, his eyes go wide and he fumbles for something in his pocket.

“Wait—here. Got you something.”

You raise a brow as he pulls out a pair of slightly beat-up white AirPods and holds them out like they’re wrapped in silk.

“Your... earwax?” you tease, voice still thick, but lighter now.

Jisung groans, face going red. “Just put them in, smartass.”

You give him a look, lips twitching like you’re holding back another laugh, but you take them. Slip them in with practiced ease, still smirking, still sniffling a little.

And then—

You hear it.

Soft at first. A low, warm hum of synth. That familiar piano progression you’ve heard a hundred times echoing from his bedroom speakers, half-finished and always evolving. A quiet heartbeat of static underneath, the sound of something personal, unfinished—

But not this time.

Now it’s whole.

The bass comes in slow. The melody rises. The rhythm finds its footing like it’s been waiting for you.

Then his voice.

His voice.

Low. Raw. Stripped back and unfiltered, like he recorded it in the middle of the night, barefaced and half asleep. It’s not polished. It’s intimate. Each lyric laid out like a confession, like he’s pressing it directly into your chest.

You freeze.

Your mouth parts, but no words come out. You just stare at him—eyes wide, breath caught, the world suddenly nothing but him and the song in your ears.

Jisung watches you closely, fidgeting, clearly trying to read your face.

“I, uh… I finally finished it,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Track 12. I—kind of stayed up all night working on it. Wanted you to be the first to hear it.”

You swallow hard. “You—wrote this… for me?”

He nods, sheepish. “Well, yeah. Who the fuck else would it be for?”

You blink at him, still stunned, still half-floating somewhere between the melody and his smile.

The music wraps around you like a secret, like sunlight through a window. His voice in your ears. His eyes on your face. His hands fidgeting at his sides, picking at the edge of his hoodie sleeve, suddenly nervous like he didn’t just lay his heart bare in a three-minute track.

And then he says it.

Quiet. Almost like it slips out.

“I’m in love with you.”

Your breath stutters.

He panics a little, eyes going wide, hands gesturing now like he’s trying to physically catch the words and shove them back into his mouth.

“I mean—not in like, a weird, ‘I wrote you a song and now you have to marry me’ way. I just—I’ve been in love with you for a while, and I didn’t know how to say it. And then I kept not saying it, and then you let me eat you out on your couch and I was like, oh cool, guess I’m definitely in love with her—”

You stare at him.

Mouth slightly open. Ears still ringing with his voice from the track. Face flushed from the heat of him and the way he’s unraveling in front of you, hands flailing, words tumbling out too fast, too honest, too him.

“And now I’m saying it,” he rushes on, breath hitching. “And maybe it’s too soon or maybe it’s stupid but—fuck, I don’t care. I love you. And I don’t just mean in the afterglow, post-head, 'wow-she’s-so-pretty-when-she’s-cumming' kind of way—which, like, you are—but I mean in the real way. In the way where I think about you all the time and you’re in my music and my coffee and my fucking laundry detergent because you smell like it now—”

You cut him off with a laugh—soft and stunned, the kind that comes from something blooming too fast in your chest. Your hands reach for him instinctively, palms pressed to his chest like you’re trying to slow his heart down, or maybe match yours to it.

Then lean up and kiss him.

He melts into it—hands landing on your waist like he’s afraid you’ll float off if he doesn’t hold you down. His mouth is soft, a little shaky, like he still can’t believe this is happening. Like he’s kissing you with both hands behind his back, offering up his heart like a truce.

When you pull back, your forehead rests against his.

You’re smiling. He is too, in that breathless, stunned way—like you’ve both finally exhaled.

“I’m in love with you too,” you whisper.

He chokes out a sound. Somewhere between a laugh and a gasp. “No shit?”

You nod. “No shit.”

Jisung blinks, then grins—slow and wide and boyish.

He just stands there, still holding you, like his body hasn’t caught up with what just happened.

Like he's trying to memorize this moment—your smile, your closeness, the soft heat of your hands resting over his heart.

He opens his mouth like he wants to say something else. Closes it again.

Then settles for a quiet, breathless, “...Okay.”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “Okay?”

He nods, dazed. “Yeah. Just… okay. Everything’s okay now.”

You lean into his chest, let your head fall to his shoulder. He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for months. His arms wrap around your waist again, this time more certain. More steady.

And for a moment, neither of you says anything.

The crowd is still bustling in the background. Cameras flashing. Tassels swinging. Parents calling names that don’t belong to you. The sound of it used to sting—but not now. Not with him holding you like this. Not with the song still echoing in your ears, a private chorus written just for you.

You glance up. “So what now?”

He looks down at you, still smiling like he doesn’t know how to stop.

“We go home,” he says. “Order too much food. Fall asleep on the couch. Pretend we’re not both crying during The Office reruns.”

You snort. “That’s your big plan?”

He leans in, nudges your nose with his. “No,” he murmurs, softer now. “My big plan is to love you for a really, really long time.”

Your heart stutters.

And it’s so simple—so quiet, so uncomplicated—but it wraps around you like warmth, settles deep in your bones like something you forgot you were allowed to want.

You tip forward and kiss him again, just once. Just enough.

“Sounds like a good plan,” you whisper.

He grins. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Eventually, your fingers find his, threading together as the crowd begins to thin. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, grounding and sure.

You glance down at the flowers, still clutched in your other hand—slightly crushed, petals soft and folding in from the heat. But they’re yours. Someone showed up. Someone stayed.

You’re walking away with his hand in yours, the sun dipping low behind you, the final track still playing softly in your head.

It ends the way all good songs do.

Quiet.

Certain.

Yours.

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