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hyuckiefluff · 25 days ago

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MOONSTRUCK | p. jisung

pairing: werewolf!hufflepuff! jisung x hufflepuff!fem. reader genre: best friends to lovers, hogwarts/supernatural au, angst, smut. wc: 18.3k+ summary: after a cruel prank leaves jisung cursed, he withdraws from everyone—including you, his closest friend. but secrets can't stay hidden forever, and when a full moon pulls you into the darkness he's tried so desperately to conceal, there's no going back. content warnings: werewolf lore & transformation, drug usage, rut/mating behavior, rough sex, biting/marking, mild breeding kink, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, knotting, bulge kink, mentions of bruising & blood, mild body horror, brief medical talk (contraceptive), aftercare. lmk if i missed any! a/n: nearly a month in the making and i can finally say i’m satisfied enough to post this lol. i’m actually really happy with how it turned out—and i finally got to write about werewolves, which has been on my list forever. canonically, werewolves in the HP universe (and most lore tbh) are dangerous nocturnal creatures and primarily bloodthirsty. but for this fic, i took a step away from that and leaned into the rut aspect instead because why not ;) pls don’t judge the cover, i had picsart and a dream lol. btw moonstruck by enhypen and nda by billie eilish are two songs u should listen to while reading this!

ps: i don’t know why i was under the assumption that everyone knows hp terms but i realized that is not the case after my mark fic 😭 so even though i didn’t use too many obscure ones here, here’s a little reference guide just in case: legilimens– someone who can read minds or emotions squib– a non-magical person born into a magical family (in this fic, it’s thrown around more like calling someone useless/coward) wolfsbane– a potion that allows werewolves to keep their mind during a full moon; in hp lore they still transform, but in this fic it's not a full transformation. feel free to message me if anything else was confusing! happy reading<3

You didn’t expect your seventh year at Hogwarts to feel like grieving someone who was still alive.

Three months ago, Park Jisung was still your best friend. Now, he can’t even stand being near you.

The suddenness of this change was something you couldn’t wrap around your head. But things don’t always fall apart all at once. Sometimes they drift until you’re left staring across a room at someone who used to know everything about you and wondering when they became a stranger.

He was the very first friend you made at Hogwarts. You remember how he barely spoke to anyone, and you sat next to him in Transfiguration class just because there was an empty seat. You charmed your quill into a frog that wouldn’t stop croaking, and when he finally cracked a smile, it felt like you’d won something important.

He was awkward and soft-spoken, unsure of himself in the way most boys are before they grow into their limbs. But you liked him instantly. Probably because he liked the same books as you, or because he never made fun of you for being nervous on a broom.

He even held your hand during your first flying lesson, hovering near you the whole time so you wouldn’t be scared. Years later, you found out he was just as scared of heights as you were and only pretended not to be to make you feel safe.

By fifth year, you spent so much time together that you could finish each other’s sentences. By sixth, you were bringing blankets to the highest tower in the castle and naming stars until you both fell asleep mid conversation. There wasn’t a single version of your life in Hogwarts that didn’t include him.

You thought seventh year would be just like that….

You were wrong.

After a summer of sending each other daily letters, pages and pages of thoughts, jokes, and half-sincere promises to never grow up, you returned to school thinking nothing could change.

And at first, it didn’t.

You walked to classes together, fell asleep with your legs tangled on the same couch, pretending not to hear the way people whispered about it the next morning, and snuck out of the common room after curfew not caring that you’d get caught.

The Astronomy Tower was your favorite place, you discovered how pretty it looked at night in your third year.

It was quiet that evening, the wind tugging at your robes as you leaned over the battlement. Jisung set down the little paper packet he’d smuggled from the kitchens—honey biscuits, still warm—and nudged it toward you.

“Payment for helping with my Potions homework,” he said, trying to be casual, though the tips of his ears were already pink.

You laughed and took one, bumping his shoulder with yours. “You’d owe me a whole bakery if this were the price.”

He smiled softly. The moonlight caught in his hair, and for a second you forgot the chill entirely.

“Close your eyes,” he said suddenly.

You arched an eyebrow but obeyed. Something light, wool‑soft, was placed around your shoulders. You opened your eyes to find his black‑and‑yellow scarf wrapped there, smelling faintly of cedarwood soap and parchment ink—purely, unmistakably Jisung.

“You’re shivering,” he mumbled, eyes on his shoes. “Couldn’t have my star‑chart partner freeze.”

You swallowed a reply that felt too big, and instead reached for his hand where it rested on the stone ledge. Your fingers threaded with his, easy as blinking. He stiffened for a second then squeezed back. When you looked up, his gaze was already fixed on you, wide and bright, as though the whole sky were reflected there instead of above your heads.

Neither of you moved for a long while. Orion wheeled overhead, the biscuits cooled, and the castle bells tolled curfew far below. But the only thing you really noticed was the warmth of his palm against yours, and the way your heart tripped every time he glanced your way and smiled shyly.

You learned just how soft‑hearted Jisung was that day on the Astronomy Tower.

Which is why, a few weeks into seventh year, it struck you as utterly wrong when rumors reached you that he’d been seen tagging along behind Lee Seungmin. Seungmin was everything Jisung wasn’t—loud, sharp‑tongued, the sort of Slytherin who thought shoving first‑years into suits of armor was a hobby and swapping curse ingredients under the table was a joke. He hexed quills to peck at classmates and bragged about detentions like they were trophies.

Jisung, by contrast, apologized when he bumped into someone and brought extra quills for anyone who forgot theirs. He flinched at raised voices and fed the barn owls after hours because he worried they were lonely.

So hearing his name linked with Seungmin’s felt like hearing that rain was falling upward. At first you laughed it off, because surely someone must have mixed him up with another quiet Hufflepuff. But then Jisung started arriving late to meals, dodging your study sessions, mumbling vague excuses you’d never heard from him before.

That was when you realized the rumor wasn’t a mistake—and that something was very, very wrong.

Seventh Year

September settled over the castle in a bright rush of golden leaves and new parchment, and for a while everything felt the way it always had. You and Jisung were crossing the courtyard—still laughing about his theory that Professor Lockhart polished his hair with Mrs. Skower’s Extra‑Shine—when a voice cut through the chatter behind you.

“Oi, Park!”

You both turned. Lee Seungmin jogged toward you, grinning widelys. You didn’t bother hiding your sigh.

“Still on for tonight?” he asked, dropping his voice as he leaned in toward Jisung.

“I’m not sure. I’ve got a Potions essay to finish.” Jisung shifted akwardly.

Seungmin smacked him on the back, too hard to be friendly. “Come on, you’ve bailed twice already.”

You stepped forward, folding your arms. “Don’t you have that same essay, Seungmin? It’s half the term grade.”

He turned, as if noticing you for the first time and smirked “Why bother? Snape’s going to fail me anyway.”

“Typical,” you muttered.

“I’ll let you know later,” Jisung said quickly, cutting between you before another jab could leave your mouth.

Seungmin’s gaze lingered on you, faintly mocking, before he turned away with a humorless laugh. “Sure thing, Park.”

The moment he was out of earshot you exhaled. “Since when are you and Seungmin… close?”

“We’re not,” Jisung said, scratching at the back of his neck. “He just hangs around sometimes.”

You searched his face. “You two have nothing in common.”

“It isn’t a big deal,” he insisted, but the laugh that followed sounded fake.

“It is if you’re sneaking off with someone like him,” you said, sharper than you meant to, but the worry was too much to hide.

Jisung’s gaze dropped to his shoes. “I didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”

You didn’t say anything after that. You just walked the rest of the way to class in silence with a sense of unease settling on your chest.

That was when the distance began to show.

First, he started seating two rows over in Charms, smiling apologetically whenever you glanced his way but never moving back. He stopped leaving crooked little jokes on the margins of your Transfiguration notes or looking at you and trying not to laugh whenever Professor Lockhart messed up a spell.

He still spoke to you, yet every conversation felt stitched together, as if he were acting out a script. One afternoon you finally asked, “Are we all right?” He nodded so quickly you had a hard time believing it.

The next time you saw him with Seungmin it was well past curfew.

You had just left the library after wrestling Arithmancy proofs and stopped short as soon as you rounded the corner near the dungeon stairs. There was Seungmin leaning against the wall and Jisung half‑turned away, both speaking in low murmurs. You caught only fragments of Seungmin’s lazy drawl and Jisung’s tight replies. Then Seungmin laughed sharply, and your best friend flinched as though struck.

Your loud footsteps made both of their heads snap up.

“Y/N,” Jisung blurted, striding toward you as if to block your view. “Why are you out so late?”

“I could ask you the same.” You said arching a brow.

Behind him, Seungmin offered a thin grin before slipping down the stairs into the darkness of the dungeons.

Jisung pressed a hand to his eyes. “I was heading back to the dorm.”

“What did he want?”

“He—” Jisung’s voice faltered and for a heartbeat you saw the words gather behind his lips but he swallowed them down. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” Your voice cracked on the word. “Come on, Ji.”

“I’m just tired,” he whispered. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

Silence pooled between you, at last you forced a smile neither of you believed. “All right. Tomorrow.”

But tomorrow never arrived—at least, not the kind where he told you what was wrong.

Because the next day Jisung never came to class at all.

Two whole days slid by without a glimpse of him and you were so on edge you kept glancing over your shoulder, half‑expecting his soft voice behind you. Or hoping he might walk into the library with that shy lopsided smile, asking if you had spare parchment which he always ran out of because his handwriting was too big and messy.

But he wasn’t anywhere, and no one seemed willing to notice besides you.

By lunch on the second day you couldn’t keep silent. Renjun was halfway through a Honeydukes bar, mumbling that chocolate boosted cognitive function, when you leaned across the table and murmured, “Do you know what’s going on with Jisung?”

He froze mid‑bite. “What?”

“Renjun,” you said, low and tight, “you know he hasn’t been to class, or in the common room. He isn’t anywhere.”

“I thought he was sick,” Renjun offered with a shrug that felt rehearsed.

“He isn’t in the hospital wing, and he hasn’t answered any of my owls.”

A flicker of something, maybe guilt, crossed his face. “Maybe he just… needs space?”

Your gaze sharpened. “Did something happen?”

“No,” he blurted too fast. “No, not that I know of.”

“Renjun.”

“I swear, I don’t know.” He wouldn’t meet your eyes. That was answer enough, but you let it drop for now.

That evening, heading back from a prefect meeting, you passed the hidden entrance to the Slytherin common room and heard voices up the corridor.

You weren’t trying to eavesdrop—until one word snapped you still.

“Jisung.”

“Snape got to him before—”

“—thought he was going to die, mate—”

“—Seungmin won’t shut up, keeps saying it wasn’t meant to go that far—”

A rush of blood pounded in your ears as you picked up bits of the hushed conversation. You edged closer and caught sight of Jay and Niki—Seungmin’s friends—half hidden in the shadows, whispering behind cupped hands.

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides. Your thoughts finally being confirmed; Something happened to Jisung and Seungmin was at the heart of it.

You didn’t sleep a minute that night. Every time you shut your eyes, the conversation replayed in your head until dawn bled through the curtains and you were already out of bed, fury keeping you upright.

You found Seungmin loitering outside the Great Hall, laughing too loudly at something Jay and Niki had said. You crossed the marble floor without a second thought.

“Where is he?”

The smile slipped from Seungmin’s face. He cocked his head, all polite confusion. “Sorry, where’s who?”

“Drop the act,” you said, stepping close enough that he had to tilt his chin to keep eye contact. “I heard your lackeys talking last night. Where’s Jisung?”

Jay and Niki exchanged a look but said nothing..

Seungmin gave a thin, brittle laugh. “You’re hearing ghosts, sweetheart. Why would I bother with Park?”

“A better question,” you started, voice cold, “is why you’ve been so attached to him lately. You don’t exactly run in the same circles, so what did you talk him into?”

Something sharpened in Seungmin’s eyes and he leaned in by a fraction. “Careful with what you’re accusing me of.”

“Or what?” You didn’t move. “You’ll do to me what you did to him?”

For a heartbeat his mask slipped, just long enough to confirm you’d scored a direct hit.

“I didn’t touch him,” he said, almost gently. “Whatever mess Park’s in? He walked into it himself”

“Liar.”

He dipped his head, a mock‑sympathetic smile curling at his mouth. “You think you know him so well, huh? Ever think that maybe he finally got tired of you shadowing him like a needy bitc—”

Your wand was at his throat before the last word finished leaving his lips. The corridor went silent except for your breathing.

“You know nothing about us,” you said, voice shaking with contained fury. “If he’s hurt, I’ll make sure everyone here knows exactly whose fault it is.”

Seungmin’s gaze flicked to the tip of your wand, then back to your face. A slow, poisonous smile spread. “Ask too many questions, Y/N, and you might choke on the answers.”

He stepped back with his hands raised in surrender, and strolled away. Jay and Niki followed in uneasy silence. You lowered your wand, fingers trembling with adrenaline.

His parting smile told you everything about his involvement. But you still didn’t have clear answers.

So you went to seek the other person allegedly involved. Snape.

When you descended into the dungeons, the silence was immediate and unnatural. No one ever came this far during free periods; only Professor Snape’s office existed at the end of this corridor, buried deep in the coldest, most isolated part of the castle.

Faint green flames floated midair along the walls, suspended in enchanted sconces that made no sound and cast no warmth. They pulsed gently, like breathing, and their glow warped the stone around them, making the shadows twist in ways that defied logic.

You hated it down here. Even now, in your seventh year, walking this corridor alone made your heart thud against your ribs like it wanted you to turn back.

But you were desperate.

Snape looked up slowly when you stepped into his office without knocking, his quill pausing mid-sentence on the parchment. His expression went from mildly irritated to coldly displeased in an instant.

“Is knocking a forgotten concept these days?” he said dryly.

“Professor,” you began quickly, not even trying to hide the urgency in your voice. “I need to talk to you.”

Snape set down his quill, arching a single eyebrow. “Then I suggest you start talking, and make it quick.”

You swallowed. “It’s about Jisung… Park Jisung. He’s been missing for days, and no one seems to know anything. Or at least, they’re pretending they don’t.”

His gaze sharpened and for a second, you thought you saw a flicker of caution behind his eyes before he quickly masked it.

“I fail to see why you’re bringing this to me,” he said coolly, leaning back in his chair. “Missing students are a matter for the headmaster.”

“Don’t,” you snapped before you could stop yourself. Snape’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but you pressed forward anyway. “I overheard some students talking. They mentioned your name…said you found Jisung somewhere. Something happened to him, didn’t it?”

Snape’s eyes flashed briefly. “And you believe the idle gossip of students because…?”

“Jisung wouldn’t just disappear on his own like that. I know something happened to him,” you shot back, voice shaking. “And I believe you know exactly what.”

He watched you silently for a moment. You could feel him weighing something behind his guarded stare. Finally, he exhaled sharply.

“Miss Y/N,” he began slowly, voice heavy with thinly veiled warning, “there are things within these castle walls and beyond them that you are better off not knowing.”

“That’s not your choice to make,” you said immediately.

“On the contrary,” he replied calmly. “It is precisely my choice. And you will do well to remember that.”

Your fists clenched at your sides, frustration prickling hot behind your eyes. “Professor, please. Jisung’s my best friend. If he’s hurt… if something’s happened… I need to know.”

Something shifted in Snape’s expression at your words, almost looked like regret. When he spoke, his voice was almost gentle, which frightened you more than his scorn.

“Sometimes the worst harm you can do to someone is to keep prying.”

He paused, holding your gaze steadily. “Park is alive. That is all you need to know. Now leave.”

You stood frozen for a second, his words sinking in painfully. Jisung was alive—yet somehow, that felt worse. It meant something had happened… Something terrible.

Your jaw tightened. “You can’t keep this hidden forever,” you whispered fiercely.

He leaned forward, eyes piercing yours in the darkness of the room.

“We’ll see.”

You turned away, storming from his office without looking back. Snape hadn’t denied anything which meant there’d definitely been an incident and it was serious enough that Jisung couldn’t be seen right now. He was alive, but he was hurt, and whatever happened to him was being deliberately hidden.

A few days later

The day started like any other.

You pushed cold eggs across your plate, half listening to Renjun’s gentle attempts at conversation while the Great Hall hummed as if a student hadn’t been missing for a week. But suddenly, a hush rolled through the room.

You felt Renjun touch your arm.

“Y/N.”

You looked up, and followed his gaze toward the doors. The breath caught in your throat.

Jisung was standing just inside the oak doors.

He was bent at the shoulders, eyes flicking over the Hall as if he didn’t remember ever being there before. His robes hung wrinkled and loose and there were red scratches carved along his neck and cheek. He was paler than before and the shadows beneath his eyes made him look years older than when you’d last seen him.

Without greeting anyone, he drifted to the far end of the Hufflepuff table nowhere near his usual seat beside you.

You were on your feet before the thought finished forming.

Renjun caught your wrist. “Y/N, maybe wait—”

You shook him off and crossed the hall, every step echoing in the sudden quiet.

“Jisung?”

He flinched but kept his gaze on the empty plate. “Not now, Y/N.”

“You’ve been gone a week,” you whispered, voice trembling. “I was so worried—”

“I said not now.” The snap in his voice was sharp enough to cut. He glanced up and the terror in his eyes chilled you to the bone.

You reached for him, but he stood so abruptly your balance faltered. Without another word he strode the length of the hall and disappeared through the doors, leaving a silence that seemed to bend the rafters.

You stood frozen, heat flushing your face as dozens of eyes slid away. Renjun appeared at your elbow and talked softly. “Let him breathe.”

You nodded, though the emptiness in your chest insisted otherwise.

Jisung returned to lessons, but only in body. He answered professors in one‑word murmurs and offered classmates strained smiles that meant please don’t talk to me. At meals he sat alone, two yards of empty bench marking the space where laughter used to live.

He moved faster when he saw you in the corridors. He no longer waited outside classrooms or drifted toward your chair in the library. His robes hung loose as if he’d lost weight along with sleep, and his hands shook whenever he raised his wand. Sometimes you caught him staring through stone walls at something only he could see.

You tried with soft hellos in the common room, and owls folded with careful questions but every attempt slid off the wall he’d built overnight. The harder you reached, the farther he retreated, until all that remained between you was silence and the memory of how easily you’d once shared the same breath.

2 days later

Jisung sat on the edge of his bed, head buried in his shaking hands. His palms were marked with crescent-shaped indentations from how hard he was clenching his fists.

He kept hearing it.

The snap of branches in pitch-black darkness. The sickening crunch of claws sinking into damp earth. The guttural snarl vibrating through his bones moments before razor-sharp teeth pierced his shoulder. The thick warmth of blood soaking through his robes.

Sometimes it came to him in dreams. Other times, he’d be awake, in class, or walking down the corridor. A sound, or a smell and he was back in the forest.

Snape had said the wolfsbane would help and it had in a way. At least, it kept the full transformation at bay. But it didn’t stop the memories, it didn’t quiet the noise in his head.

His senses were too sharp now, every creak of the floorboards, every flicker of candlelight, every rustle of parchment felt louder. Sometimes he thought he could hear people’s heartbeats, smell their sweat before they entered a room. His insides constantly felt overwhelmed with unbearable energy. He felt trapped in his own skin, moments away from tearing free of himself. Sometimes he felt too much, and other times… he felt nothing at all.

Worst of all, though, was you.

He couldn't stand to be near you anymore. Not because he didn't want to, but because your scent now stirred something dangerous within him. It made his chest ache unbearably, tightened his throat with longing and thirst.

A part of him urged him to get far away from you. But another darker, more primal part whispered the opposite… to scent you, to sink into you, to lose control entirely. But he refused to drag you into his nightmare. He wouldn't allow it, no matter how much it tore at him.

He could remember most of what led him into the forest, up to a certain point.

He remembers Seungmin saying he wanted to hang out and they met near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where one of the slytherins handed out something called shadeleaf. It was an iridescent petal folded into itself like a capsule. Illegal, of course. Banned by the ministry for its hallucinogenic properties and its tendency to react differently based on magical affinity.

Jisung didn't even know why he was there. This wasn’t his scene at all. The guys were drinking something out of a flask that smelled like burnt sugar and smoke. Jay was lighting up a rolled spell-scroll with charmed embers. Niki already looked half out of it, eyes glazed.

When Seungmin started showing an interest in him a few weeks ago, Jisung had been flattered. He'd only ever made two close friends at Hogwarts, so someone new noticing him felt good. That was the only reason he went along with him. He wanted to be accepted.

“Is it safe?” Jisung asked nervously.

“Come on, park,” Niki chuckled, placing a shimmering petal on his tongue. “Don’t be a Squib.”

“What's the worst that could happen?” Seungmin grinned, handing one to him. “You trip a bit? See some weird shit? Wake up with a headache?”

Jisung hesitated, staring at the thing in his palm. It pulsed faintly with a color he didn’t have a name for.

He didn't want to do it, but they were all watching him. So he took it.

The effects hit almost instantly. His vision went fuzzy first; he could only see edges warping and light bending at impossible angles. Then his tongue tingled and throbbed, and his body felt too hot.

“Shit, this is strong,” Jay laughed.

“It’s not that bad,” Seungmin said, puffing from the smoldering scroll between his fingers.

None of them looked as affected as Jisung.

"Come on, Park," Seungmin said, draping an arm casually yet firmly around Jisung’s shoulders. "There’s a spot a little deeper in. We hang out there all the time."

Jisung couldn’t hear properly anymore, everything sounded underwater. He followed anyway.

He couldn’t say how long they walked. It felt like hours, though in reality it was probably mere minutes before his knees gave out, sending him sprawling onto the cold forest floor. His head spun violently, vision fractured.

He tried to speak, to call out but his voice didn't work, the forest blurring darker and darker until only silence and blackness swallowed him whole. He didn’t know when they left him. Just that at some point, he was alone.

The last thing he remembers was seeing bright, yellow eyes and feeling immense pain…

He woke up choking on his own blood.

His body jerked violently, lungs burning as he struggled to take in air. He felt strong hands grip his shoulders, pulling him upright with urgency. Through blurry, half-open eyes, he caught the outline of a wand glowing faintly in the dark. He barely recognized the familiar cadence of Professor Snape’s voice echoing through the haze.

“Park… Can you hear me?” Snape’s voice was clipped, edged with tension he’d never heard before.

Jisung managed only a strangled groan. He couldn’t speak, his throat was raw, filled with the metallic tang of blood. Breathing felt impossible, each gasp shallow and painful, as if his lungs were full of lead. He felt wetness soaking through his clothes and pooling beneath him. He didn't know if it was sweat or blood. Probably both, his clouded mind whispered darkly.

He was certain of only one thing—he was going to die here.

“You’ve been attacked,” Snape explained urgently, casting quick charms that rippled warmly across Jisung’s battered body. “I need you to remain as still as possible while I attempt to slow the bleeding.”

The word attacked echoed faintly in Jisung’s mind. Attacked by what? His thoughts swirled sluggishly. He couldn’t focus enough to piece anything together.

Snape pressed a small vial to his lips. The Hufflepuff hesitated, eyes flickering up weakly, his question dying soundlessly on cracked lips.

Snape seemed to understand instantly. “It’s Wolfsbane.”

The word crashed over Jisung with crushing weight, his mind snapping painfully back to clarity. Wolfsbane. A potion for…

His stomach twisted violently, nausea gripping him as realization cut sharply through the fog in his mind.

He’d been attacked by a werewolf.

It felt impossible. He wanted to deny it, wanted to believe it was just some twisted nightmare brought on by the drugs he’d foolishly taken. But the pain burning through his shoulder and the dark, grim expression on Snape’s face all made denial impossible.

With trembling lips, Jisung allowed Snape to tip the bitter potion into his mouth, grimacing weakly as he forced himself to swallow it down. It tasted vile but he had no energy left to protest.

He collapsed back against the cold forest floor, limbs heavy, vision fading once more as Snape continued muttering charms, trying to keep him tethered to consciousness.

“Stay with me, Park,” Snape’s voice commanded, sharp but oddly comforting. “You’re not going to die tonight.”

But Jisung wasn’t sure he believed him.

The darkness rushed back in, heavy and thick, pulling him under again as Snape’s frantic movements blurred and faded away.

His memory is fuzzy from then on.

One moment he was lying in the dirt, blood soaking the ground beneath him. The next, he was being levitated through narrow hallways, his body wrapped in magic and warding charms.

The room was dark, except for a wandlight hovering near the ceiling. He was placed on a dusty mattress on the floor. His skin felt stiff with blood, every muscle felt like it had been peeled apart and sewn back together with barbed wire.

He recognized the Shrieking Shack from an article he’d read once about the most haunted places on Earth. That’s where they were right now.

The shack was colder than he imagined. This was the place they used to tell ghost stories about in the common room. The place kids dared each other to peek into on Hogsmeade weekends. It smelled like old wood and dust. Snape moved through it like he’d been here before—like this was routine.

He cast a dozen silent spells before even speaking. Layers of enchantments wrapped around the rotting floorboards, the shattered furniture, the warped windows.

“You must take this Wolfsbane every day,” Snape said curtly, setting a tray on the floor beside the creaking mattress. “Or I’ll force it down your throat.”

Jisung didn’t answer. Snape paused, studying him with that unreadable stare.

“You’ll stay here until the full moon passes,” he said. “You’ll say nothing when you return.”

Jisung blinked slowly, the weight of it sinking into his bones. ‘When you return… or If’.

Then Snape turned to go but he stopped in the doorway.

“You are not the first,” he said, voice low. “It will be painful but you’ll survive.”

And with that, he was gone.

The silence was the most unbearable part of being in the Shack. Not even the pain or the way Jisung’s bones ached like they were preparing to snap apart. It was the silence that made him feel like he’d go crazy any minute.

He tried to sleep, but whenever he tried he’d blink awake to phantom sensations of fur brushing his skin, fangs pushing against his teeth, and a sweet scent of honey curling through the cracks in the floorboards.

It wasn’t the full moon yet but his body was already responding to it. The Wolfsbane kept him from changing completely, but it didn’t stop everything. His skin itched as if it was being stretched and he realized he’d grown a few inches taller overnight. His eyes were also becoming sensitive to even the faintest flickers of light, and they were a dark shade of yellow that glowed whenever the moonlight hit them.

It might’ve been on the second night or the third, he couldn’t remember well, but Snape came in and told him that the full moon would be at its peak and he would feel the effects more despite the potion.

Jisung lasted about two hours before the pain began. It wasn’t sudden. It crept in slowly, like frostbite, numbing his fingers first. Then his wrists and his legs. He thought maybe this was it—maybe he’d just fade out before anything happened. Then it spread up his spine and into his skull, where it bloomed behind his eyes like fire.

The pain was so much bigger than his body. It burned and it shredded him, as if his bones were being broken and rebuilt at the same time, like his skin wasn’t big enough to hold him anymore. He scratched at his own arms until his nails cracked and bled. It got so unbearable he slammed his head against the wall hoping he would knock himself out but he couldn’t.

He clawed at the walls, tore at the floorboards and bit into the wood until his mouth filled with splinters and blood. He howled until his throat tore raw. And still, it didn’t stop

He lost count of how many times his limbs broke and reformed. His jaw cracked open so wide he thought it might dislocate, teeth pushing through bloody gums. He was sobbing or at least, he thought he was. It was hard to tell over the sound of his own growling.

The transformation stopped halfway and started again the next day. He never fully transformed but he felt the pain of his body trying to fight against it every single time.

He stopped counting days after that.

Hunger and exhaustion tangled with grief and fear until all that was left was the throb of his body and the steady hum of magic in his blood. He didn’t think about the pain anymore. Or the bite. Or Seungmin. Or the forest.

Mostly, he thought about you.

He tried not to, but you wouldn’t leave him. Your face, your laugh, your voice, it all circled him like the moonlight through the slats in the wall.

The way the thought of you made his body burn now.The way your honeyed scent used to be comforting but now made his lungs tighten and his mouth water. He didn’t understand why he was feeling this way.

On the seventh day he woke up soaked in sweat, shivering uncontrollably. The moon had passed. He could feel it in the way the ache in his bones was retreating and his mind was clearer.

Snape arrived at dawn.

He said nothing about the mess of blood and broken furniture in the room. He just studied Jisung who was sitting slumped against the wall. He pulled out his wand and started casting diagnostic spells over his body.

“You’ll return to class tomorrow,” he said. “If anyone asks, you were ill.”

Jisung didn’t move.

Snape continued impassively. “You are not to mention the Wolfsbane, the forest, or what you’ve become. Do you understand?”

Jisung finally looked at him, barely able to lift his head properly. “That’s it? Just… go back like nothing happened?” His voice came out hoarse.

Snape’s eyes narrowed faintly. “No. That is not it.”

He stepped closer.

“You will take your potion every cycle, no matter what. And you will not seek out the other boys involved, nor will you retaliate.”

Jisung’s jaw clenched. He wanted nothing more than to rip Seungmin’s throat apart, but he knew that was just the wolf thinking.

“And most importantly, you will stay away from her.” Snape said, his voice dropping at the last word.

Jisung sat up sharply, knowing exactly who he was referring to. “Why?”

The professor’s expression didn’t soften. “Because the wolf doesn’t care that she’s your friend. It doesn’t care about boundaries or guilt or decency. It responds to need.”

Jisung’s chest tightened, throat dry.

“The first few transformations are the worst,” Snape continued, pacing slowly now. “Your body hasn’t adjusted. Your instincts haven’t aligned with your mind. You will feel urges…violent, territorial, carnal urges that you can’t control. Those urges will turn into fixations... Especially for someone you already had feelings for”

“I don’t–” Jisung started.

“You don’t need to lie, Mr. Park.” Snape cut him off, “I am a very skilled Legilimens, you know? I can see your mind and I see how it’s filled with thoughts of her.”

Jisung looked away, jaw trembling slightly. Snape stopped in front of him.

“Her scent” he said quietly. “It already triggers you, doesn’t it?”

Jisung didn’t answer. That sweet scent of honey and parchment that he kept smelling through the rotting floors and the dried blood, he figured out it was you. It reminded him of that night at the Astronomy tower.The Shrieking Shack might be a few miles away from Hogwarts castle but he could still somehow smell you.

“You feel it in your chest, in your teeth, in your gut” Snape said, voice like a scalpel. “You want her.”

Jisung’s breathing picked up.

“That is the beginning of your rut.”

“Rut?” he repeated, barely above a whisper.

Snape nodded. “It’s a biological response. Wolves enter a heightened state after the full moon cycle. Some experience it more than others, especially younger ones who’ve recently turned”

Jisung’s heart was pounding now, nauseatingly fast.

“You may feel sudden impulses or worse you might want to act on those impulses.”

He felt sick. “I’m not— I would never hurt her.”

“I’m not concerned about your intentions,” Snape said coldly. “I’m concerned about your self control. A werewolf’s instincts are hard to resist and if you lose control, Mr. Park… She will pay the price.”

“So stay away from her,” Snape said with finality. “It’s the only way to keep you both safe.”

Jisung sat there shaking, the weight of what he’d become pressing down on his spine like a second body.

He couldn’t go back. Not like this.

“I’m not ready,” he said hoarsely.

Snape didn’t turn. He stood by the window, watching the last of the night dissolve into grey morning.

“You won’t ever be,” he said simply.

Jisung clenched his jaw. “I don’t want to see her. Or anyone. I—I can’t trust myself.”

“You must learn to live with your current situation.”

“Why can’t I just… stay here?”

Snape turned at that. His eyes were cold and calculating.

“Because people are already asking questions,” he said. “Students, staff. Your friend.”

Jisung’s heart stuttered at that.

“She’s worried,” Snape continued. “Rightfully so. You disappeared without warning. She’s been to my office several times. She’s even confronted the student who got you into this predicament, pulled out a wand at him. I don’t know how much longer I can keep her from endangering herself trying to find you.”

Jisung lowered his head, guilt flooding every nerve.

“Rumors are spreading, too.” Snape added. “A few students are saying they saw you with Mr. Lee that night. Some think you were injured, others that you’re in trouble. You’ve already been gone too long.”

Jisung swallowed hard. “So I just walk into the Great Hall acting like I’m normal?”

Snape didn’t blink. “Yes.”

His stomach turned. “And if someone sees the scars?”

“You’ll say you had an accident in the forest.”

“And you’ll back me up?” he asked bitterly.

“If I must.”

Jisung exhaled shakily. “And Y/N? We—we’re always together, she’ll find it weird if I suddenly cut her off”

“You’ll keep your distance regardless. If she asks questions, you deflect. If she pushes, you walk away. You’re not safe around her”

He bit his lip hard, so hard it almost bled. “She’ll know something’s wrong.”

“Then hope she’s smart enough not to get too close.”

The doors to the Great Hall had never felt so heavy. Jisung stood in front of them for nearly five minutes, staring at the carved wood. Behind them, he heard laughter, casual conversation, normalcy.

He wasn’t ready.

But Snape’s words echoed in his skull.

"You’ve already been gone too long."

He took a breath and pushed them open.

All the noise overcame him like a wave, the plates clinking, voices overlapping, owls fluttering through the rafters. It all felt loud in a way it hadn’t before, as if someone had turned the world’s volume up just to punish him.

He kept his head low and his pace steady. One foot in front of the other. Just like Snape said. Act like nothing happened.

He could feel all eyes on him almost instantly. First years stopping mid-bite and a few seventh-years whispering across the Gryffindor table. Someone, he thought maybe Jay, froze with a goblet halfway to his lips.

And then you. He didn’t have to loo, he felt the second your eyes landed on him, making something twist deep in his chest. That same unbearable tightness he’d felt in the shack whenever he let himself think about you. About your laugh echoing across the common room. About your fingers brushing his when you passed him a quill and how it used to mean nothing, and now it meant everything.

He knew you’d notice the hollow look in his eyes, the bruises blooming like violets on his neck and the bandage peeking out from beneath the collar of his robes. You’d find it weird that he didn’t sit near you, didn’t even glance your way. But he tried to ignore those thoughts and just focus on the plate in front of him even though his stomach turned at the smell of food.

You stared at him from your seat. It took you several long, painful seconds to process what you were seeing.

Jisung—your best friend, who’d been missing a week without a word—just walked into breakfast looking like he’d seen hell and barely made it back out.

His robes were loose like he’d lost weight and his eyes were ringed with dark circles, exhaustion written clearly in every line of his face. There were cuts visible, thin red marks down his jaw, a deeper scar stretching beneath his collar, fading bruises on the backs of his hands. His hair was tangled, his posture painfully tense.

You felt a sick sense of relief after seeing him, despite his appearance. But most of all you felt angry. You felt everything all at once, a hot rush of emotions almost too intense to handle.

Jisung avoided your gaze completely. He picked at the food in front of him, not really eating, just pushing it around his plate.

He felt you approaching before you spoke. Your scent hit him first, warm and familiar, yet unbearably intense. His jaw clenched tight, fingers curling into fists beneath the table. He didn’t look up even when you stood near him. He simply couldn’t trust himself to see your face and not fall apart.

You called his name quietly and he almost cried at the sound of your voice. But he didn’t move, not even when you stepped closer.

Slowly, he raised his head, gaze finally meeting yours You went still, eyes widening just slightly. He knew instantly what you saw—the darkness in his stare, the shadowed bruises, the fresh scars. The way he looked wrong.

He couldn’t bear your pained eyes, so he snapped at you. Something he’d never do before, but Snape told him to deflect. So he yelled and walked away, trying to ignore how hurt you looked.

This was what Snape meant. You’re not safe around her.

You couldn’t eat after that. Not with the way he’d looked at you.

Jisung had always been soft-spoken, a little awkward, a little shy—but never cold. And you didn’t need a Healer to tell you that whatever he’d gone through wasn’t some stomach bug or routine cold. You weren’t stupid.

You saw the tremble in his fingers when he reached for his fork. You saw the way he flinched when someone behind him dropped their goblet. You saw the bruises just under his collar and the bandages.

Something happened to him.

You sat back down but your heart was still up at the other end of the table with him.

“I need to know,” you murmured, more to yourself than to Renjun.

He sighed. “Y/N…”

“Don’t say it,” you snapped quietly. “Don’t say I should give him time. Don’t say he’ll come around. I know him, Renjun. He’s scared. You don’t just disappear for a week and come back with claw marks on you neck.”

Renjun went quiet.

That silence told you more than anything else.

“Okay, I’m tired of this… You know something, don’t you?”

He avoided your gaze. “It’s not my place to say.”

That hurt. “Is it mine to not know?”

You stood abruptly, grabbing your bag. “If no one’s going to tell me the truth, I’ll figure it out myself.”

Over the next few days, you tried to get close to Jisung in every way you could think of. You waited for him outside the greenhouses after Herbology, hoping to catch him alone. You switched seats in Charms just to be nearer, and sometimes you even loitered in the corridor after Potions, telling yourself you’d walk him back to the common room.

Despite your best efforts, he continually slipped away.

He offered awkward excuses about having somewhere to be, or sometimes said nothing at all and just walked past. Most of the time, he barely managed to look at you, as if doing so caused him physical pain. This wasn’t an icy kind of avoidance, nor was it tinged with anger. It felt worse than either of those possibilities—it was as though he found everything about you unbearable, but still couldn’t muster the energy to explain why.

Once, you nearly cornered him after lunch. He was leaning against the corridor wall outside the Great Hall, head tipped back, looking utterly exhausted. In that unguarded moment, your eyes met his, and you thought you glimpsed your old friend beneath the tension he carried. Summoning the nerve you’d been collecting all day, you stepped forward.

“Can we talk?” you asked softly.

For a split second, it seemed like he might say yes. His mouth opened as though he wanted to form the words but then Professor Snape’s voice echoed from behind you.

“Miss Y/N.”

You turned around to find Snape standing there, unruffled as always, robes hanging in sharp lines. He inclined his head in an almost polite manner yet still carried the weight of an order.

“I need you to come to the dungeons,” he said in a measured tone. “There are ingredients that require sorting. I trust your handwriting is still legible.”

You tried to protest, but as soon as you turned back, Jisung had vanished. From that moment on, it became a pattern: every time you got too close to him, Snape appeared with some new task for you—an extended office hour to discuss a mistake in an essay, a request to reorganize outdated potions, or a perfectly timed interruption just as you were about to speak with Jisung privately.

On a rational level, you knew it was ridiculous to think Snape was orchestrating this on purpose; however, it was impossible to ignore how consistently he managed to swoop in whenever you finally had a chance to approach Jisung alone. You didn’t know why your professor was so intent on calling you away, and truthfully it wasn’t the main issue gripping your mind.

All you could focus on was Jisung.

He looked so different—worn down, scared, ashamed, like he was carrying a secret that weighed on his shoulders every moment of the day. Every time you tried to reach him, he withdrew further. It broke your heart, because you weren’t trying to fix him or make him talk if he didn’t want to. You just wanted to be there, to stand by him instead of watching from a distance.

Yet no matter how hard you tried, the boy who used to seek you out for study breaks and late-night jokes now seemed determined to avoid you. And the more distance he forced, the more you wanted to find out what had really happened, because this Jisung—the one who flinched when you spoke and looked away when you caught his eye—felt like a stranger wearing your best friend’s face.

It was late, far too late for anyone else to be out of bed. So when you heard commotion up in the Astronomy Tower during one of your prefect rounds, you instinctively climbed the stairs to inspect, your wand held loosely in your fingertips.

The castle had felt too quiet lately. Ever since Jisung came back, everything had been off balance. You’d even taken extra patrols just to keep your mind busy. You weren’t expecting to find anything up there except maybe a few rowdy owls.

But when you pushed open the heavy wooden door to the Astronomy Tower, you froze at the sight.

Jisung was there, hunched against the railing, his robes half-open, hands gripping the stone balustrade so tightly you saw his knuckles pale even from across the room.

"Jisung?" you said softly, hesitant.

His head snapped up instantly, and your breath caught in your throat.

His eyes were wild, pupils blown wide, irises shimmering unnaturally gold beneath the moonlight. Sweat gleamed across his pale forehead, his hair was messy and damp, sticking to his face. His breathing came harsh and fast, almost feral.

You took a cautious step forward. "Jisung, are you okay?"

"Stay back," he choked out, voice strained and rough. "Don't come closer."

But you saw the tremble in his arms, the feverish brightness in his eyes. He looked sick. He looked scared.

"What’s wrong? Let me help—"

"No." He shook his head violently, squeezing his eyes shut as if fighting himself. "You can't—I'm not—"

He trailed off, stumbling forward as if pulled by some invisible force toward you. He was breathing heavily, lips parted as he seemed to taste the air between you.

"Jisung—"

Your voice cut off as his gaze snapped sharply to yours again, something raw and dangerous flaring in his eyes. It sent a shiver racing down your spine, and you instinctively backed away half a step.

"Leave," he hissed, the word barely recognizable through his clenched teeth. His whole body seemed rigid with tension. "Please, leave before—"

He broke off with a gasp, doubling over as though a wave of pain had just wracked through him.

You rushed forward instinctively, panic clouding your caution. "Jisung!"

He moved faster than your eyes could track. One moment he was curled into himself and the next he had you pinned against the cold stone floor, wrists pressed tightly beside your head, his face inches from yours, breath hot and erratic against your neck.

"Ji—" Your voice cracked. "What are you—"

He inhaled deeply against your throat, his body trembling against yours. "God, you smell so—" His voice was ragged and broken, almost a sob. "I can't—I can't stop it, I—"

He pressed closer instinctively, hips pinning you hard against the floor. His lips grazed roughly against your neck, sharp teeth skimming dangerously along your pulse point. Your heart slammed against your ribs, fear tangled confusingly with something hot in your lower belly.

"Jisung, please," you whispered, half plea, half gasp. "You're scaring me."

Those words seemed to pierce through whatever haze had overtaken him. He jerked back, eyes wide, suddenly horrified at himself. His gaze flicked down to your wrists, already bruising beneath his grip, and he stumbled away as if burned.

"No," he whispered, horror and guilt bleeding openly into his expression. "I didn't—I wouldn't—"

You stayed frozen on the floor, chest heaving as you watched the agony twist across his face.

"What’s happening to you?" you breathed, sitting up slowly.

He stared at you, anguished, hands still trembling at his sides.

"I'm sorry," he whispered brokenly. "I—I'm so sorry."

Before you could say another word, he turned sharply and bolted down the stairs, leaving you alone, shaking, and terrified.

The Hufflepuff common room was quiet when you walked in. Most students had gone to bed, but Renjun sat alone on the couch.

You didn’t give him a chance to pretend he didn’t see you coming.

“You’re going to tell me what happened.”

Renjun sighed, not looking away from the fire. “Y/N…”

“No,” you said, standing in front of him. “No more deflecting. You’ve known something since the day he came back.”

He rubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t know the whole story.”

“Then tell me what you know.”

Silence.

You crossed your arms. “Do you really think I’m going to stop asking? You’ve seen him. You know he’s not okay. And no one’s saying anything, and I’m losing my mind because—” your voice cracked, just slightly— “because that’s my best friend.”

Renjun’s shoulders slumped. He looked like he aged ten years in a second.

“Seungmin and his friends... they planned something,” he said quietly.

Your chest went still.

“I only heard a conversation between Professor Sprout and Professor Snape,” he continued. “But apparently they were hanging out near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Seungmin gave Jisung something. A potion or… some kind of enchanted hallucinogen.”

Renjun looked up at you, guilt heavy in his eyes even though he hadn’t been there. “They led him into the forest, Y/N… And something attacked him.”

You stared at him, voice thick with dread. “Something?”

Renjun hesitated. “Snape... Snape was the one who found him.”

You felt cold all over. “What was it?”

He looked away.

“Renjun. What was it.”

His voice dropped to a whisper.

“A werewolf.”

A gasp got stuck in your throat.

“I don’t know how bad it was,” Renjun said softly. “But apparently Professor Snape had to lock him up for a week while he went through the transformation.”

Tears stung behind your eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to believe it myself….”

You sank into the chair across from him, everything too heavy to stand.

“A werewolf,” you whispered.

He nodded and suddenly, so many things clicked at once. Suddenly it all made sense.

After Renjun told you, you couldn’t sleep.

You sat in your bed staring at the ceiling until the sun started bleeding through the windows, and then you slipped out of the dorms without a word. You went straight to the library and stayed there all morning.

Madam Pince gave you a curious glance when you asked to go into the Restricted Section after looking through every other possible book in the regular shelves and finding nothing of value. You dropped Professor Babbling’s name as your excuse—said you were doing independent research for an Arithmancy paper. She didn’t ask further, just handed you a list of approved titles and waved you through.

You didn’t touch a single one of them. Instead, you searched for everything you could find on werewolves.

They were mostly old, dusty books with creaking spines and brittle pages. Most seemed to be more folklore than facts but you found a text buried near the bottom of a shelf, half its title burned off the spine.

Lycanthropy and Lunar Madness: A Clinical Compendium.

The chapters were brutal. You read about the first changes, the muscle pain, the sensory overload. The way magic in the blood would flare, fight back, burn from the inside out. You read about the violence, how the mind slips away when the full moon peaks, how instincts override everything else.

But what caught your atention the most was this:

“In cases of recent infection, the afflicted may experience an attraction fixation, often triggered by proximity to a familiar person. This response is especially common in individuals whose first transformation occurs during adolescence or early adulthood.

The instinct is not always sexual, but it is always possessive. The werewolf’s senses recognize the person as a source of comfort or danger. When comfort, the fixation can lead to obsessive behavior, rut-like symptoms, and irrational aggression if the person is perceived as threatened or unattainable. When danger, it can lead to avoidance or attack. Scent is the most common anchor. Once imprinted, it is nearly impossible for the werewolf to ignore.”

Your throat tightened. You re-read the paragraph five times.

It made sense, too much sense. His distance, his flinching, the way he couldn’t look at you anymore.

Your scent.

You remembered how he looked at you that morning in the Great Hall. How he barely breathed when you stood too close and how he wouldn’t meet your eyes when you asked what happened. And last night in the Atronomy Tower, he said you smelled good and it looked like he wanted to eat you alive.

You closed the book with shaky hands and then checked out four more. You didn’t stop reading until your eyes blurred. You didn’t eat or go to class.

By the time the sky outside the window started darkening, you were sitting at a corner table, surrounded by open tomes and loose parchment covered in frantic notes—everything you could find about Wolfsbane, Snape’s potion-making reputation, the legal status of werewolves in magical Britain, and every known case of student infection in the last fifty years.

You turned the page again.

Magical Intervention

“Wolfsbane Potion, taken daily during the week of the full moon, prevents transformation but does not erase the instinctual response. It is crucial that young werewolves are supervised during their first year of turning, especially if they experience early signs of rut.

If left unmonitored, the werewolf may become a threat not only to others—but to themselves.”

You found another book next. Not on lycanthropy, but on magical trauma. It mentioned Professor Snape by name.

“A known expert in dark creatures and cursed bloodlines, Professor Severus Snape has played a role in the treatment and monitoring of several underage werewolf cases, particularly after the war.”

You sat there for a long time, staring at the page, your mind buzzing. Snape knew, he was involved and he wasn’t just keeping the secret, he was managing it.

Which meant whatever happened to Jisung—Snape had seen it before. And he’d chosen not to tell you a thing.

You sat there in silence, your hands numb on the table. Snape had told him to stay away from you, that much was obvious now. But no one had told you what being near him could do.

You weren’t afraid of him. But for the first time, you understood why he was of you.

You left the library as the sky was starting to pale with early morning light, the forbidden books still echoing in your thoughts. You didn’t bother going to class again. You went directly to Snape’s office instead and waited there. When he finally arrived, he paused mid-step at the sight of you.

“Miss Y/N,” he said flatly. “You are not scheduled to meet with me.”

“No,” you said, stepping forward. “But I’m not leaving until you tell me the truth, sir.”

His eyes narrowed. “I beg your par—”

“Did you know?” you cut in, voice trembling with restrained rage. “Did you know what would happen to him?”

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”

“I know that Jisung got attacked by a werewolf.”

Snape stilled.

“I went to the restricted section,” you continued. “I know what werewolves go through. I know about the rut cycle. The way someone can trigger it just by being close… Did you know it would be me?”

He didn’t speak, and that silence was an answer.

You took another step toward him. “You told him to stay away, didn’t you?”

Still silent.

You laughed bitterly. “What, were you going to wait until I ended up on the courtyard floor with his teeth in my neck before you decided to warn me?”

“Lower your voice,” Snape said sharply, eyes flicking toward the empty corridor.

“No,” you snapped. “You don’t get to tell me what to do now when you left me in the dark about everything.”

“He is alive and you’re safe because of me,” he said sharply. “Do not mistake silence for neglect.”

“He’s barely alive,” you fired back. “He’s walking around like a ghost and you expect me to believe that’s your idea of help?”

“You think you want the truth but the truth is messy and dangerous. And the truth, Miss Y/N…” he stalked closer to you, almost menacingly “… is that your friend is not who he was anymore.”

“I know that!” you shouted, voice cracking. “But you made him think he was dangerous.”

“He is.”

“No,” you said fiercely. “He’s just scared and you’re feeding it.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “You have no idea what a werewolf in rut is capable of.”

“I do now.” You stepped closer again, voice trembling. “I’m not stupid or fragile. And I’m not going to stay away just because you think it’s better that way.”

“Miss Y/N—”

“No,” you snapped. “You can’t “protect me” by locking him away like some creature. He’s not a danger to me. What’s dangerous is isolating him, making him ashamed of something he didn’t choose.”

Snape’s mouth pressed into a thin line.

“And what will you do, then?” he asked. “If he loses control?”

“I’ll help him.” You exhaled, hands trembling. “I’m not afraid of him and he needs someone who isn’t.”

There was a long pause. Snape looked at you with something like pitty. Then he spoke, carefully.

“Then you’d better learn how to handle what’s coming.”

Knowing about Jisung’s condition didn’t bring the relief you thought it would. If anything, it made everything worse. Because now you understood that there was almost nothing you could do to save him from himself. And, like Professor Snape said, the safest option was to stay far away.

And you tried, but it was so hard.

You'd find yourself turning to complain about Professor Binns's endless lectures, only to realize it wasn't Jisung beside you, but Renjun—quiet, studious Renjun who never dared utter a complaint in class.

Or when you walked toward the kitchens out of habit, thinking maybe you'd sweet-talk the elves into some pumpkin tarts, only to remember it was Jisung who always did the charming.

Or when the night sky looked especially clear and you found yourself wanting to stargaze but realizing no one else knew how to trace constellations on your palm with their fingertip. And you couldn’t even remember their names without Jisung pointing them out to you.

Renjun tried. He filled the empty seat at meals, nodded at the right moments when you rambled, even agreed to sneak out once or twice. But he wasn’t Jisung. He didn’t know your weird inside jokes, didn’t lean his head on your shoulder when he got sleepy, didn’t touch your wrist when you got nervous.

You missed him so deeply it ached.

So, when you saw him slipping out of the common room one night you followed him without a second thought.

He moved quickly across the grounds, his hooded shape skimming the moonlit grass. You jogged to keep up, keeping low behind hedges and statues until he stopped beside the Whomping Willow. Your breath caught as he pressed a knot at the roots and the tree froze mid‑sway, its branches locking in eerie stillness. Then, an entrance yawned open.

You hesitated. Every instinct screamed that going after him was a terrible idea. But the thought of him hurting or worse, hurting alone was too much to bear.

So you followed.

The tunnel led you into the Shrieking Shack. A chill raced down your spine the moment you stepped inside. Rot and mildew clung to the walls, the floorboards seemed like they would give way with each step, and it smelled like old nightmares in there. You had to bite down on your lip to keep from gagging but you kept going, following the sounds of his ragged breathing upstairs into a dusty room.

You opened the door cautiously, barely an inch—but before you could fully register what was happening, Jisung lunged. He grabbed your arm, yanking you roughly inside and pinning you to the sagging mattress with a strength that startled you.

"Jisung—!" you gasped.

He loomed over you, eyes wild, glowing gold in the darkness. His expression was pained, almost feral.

"What—are you doing here?" he growled through gritted teeth. His voice was deep and barely recognizable.

You stared up at him, wide-eyed. “I—I was worried. You missed all your classes…”

Something dark flared in his gaze, and he dropped his head, panting harshly against your throat. He inhaled deeply, shuddering as he pressed closer instinctively. Your breath hitched sharply, your body reacting involuntarily to his closeness.

"You shouldn't have come," he whispered brokenly, hands trembling where they gripped your wrists.

You swallowed, feeling his hips press involuntarily against yours and realizing exactly what was happening.

"Your rut," you whispered breathlessly, realization flooding you. "It's started, hasn't it?"

A helpless whimper slid from his throat as his hips rocked against you once more, his erection pressing unmistakably through his trousers. The desperate sound he made sent heat pooling in your stomach, despite the fear and confusion swirling inside you.

“You smell so fucking… good” He let out another ragged noise, and you reached out instinctively, resting a trembling hand against his cheek. His skin burned under your palm. He looked almost delirious, golden eyes flickering between human fear and something more feral.

You’d spent the past week reading about werewolves and their ruts, absorbing every detail you could from hidden texts and restricted tomes. You knew that once the rut hit, the urge for physical intimacy would become nearly unbearable. You also knew it was dangerous for you to be near him like this.

But as you stared at your best friend, trembling and half-broken with need, your heart clenched. You couldn’t just walk away.

“Jisung,” you said carefully, your voice shaking. “Did you take the Wolfsbane?”

He shook his head, eyes squeezing shut. “I don’t know… I think I didn’t—” He broke off, a pained groan tearing from his throat as he rocked forward, hips searching for contact.

Swallowing hard, you remembered the passage in the book. How an afflicted werewolf needed a trusted partner to help ease the rut’s consuming effects.

It felt like your heart was in your mouth.

“You—” he gasped, voice faint. “You can’t stay. I—if I hurt you—”

You cupped his other cheek, forcing his gaze to meet yours. “You won’t,” you promised, though a part of you wasn’t entirely sure.

“Y/N,” he groaned, hips rutting forward again. “Don’t. Don’t touch me right now, I swear—”

“I want to help you,” you said softly. “Please let me.”

His pupils dilated immediately and he let out a shaky breath, leaning into your touch. The heat radiating from him was overwhelming but despite your own hammering pulse, you didn’t draw away.

Because somewhere deep inside, you knew this was the only way to help him.

His grip on your waist was bruising, claws just barely retracted. His body was sweat-slicked and trembling, panting through gritted teeth as he pressed himself flush against you.

“I warned you,” he growled, voice shaky with restraint. “I told you to leave.”

You pulled him closer up and felt how he shook under your touch. “You can have me”

He didn’t wait another second. Your clothes were suddenly nothing, the fabric ripped under his desperate hands. Your skin was bare before you had time to register the sound of seams tearing. His mouth found your throat instinctively, tongue tasting your pulse before he bit.

You winced at the pain and his hips rutted against your thigh, hard and frantic, his cock felt thick and straining through his trousers. He was whining soft, broken sounds between gritted teeth, like each second without you wrapped around him was tearing him open from the inside.

“You smell—fuck, you smell so good,” he gasped into your skin, humping against you harder. “I need—i need to be inside, I need—”

You spread your legs, breathless, head spinning from the force of it all. “I’m here, Sungie.”

He didn’t prep you, didn’t pause for a second—just spit on his fingers and shoved them inside you hard and fast. Stretching you wide while whispering obscenities you couldn’t even make sense of.

“So fucking tight—fuck—gonna ruin you—fill you up, knot you, make sure no one else ever gets to—”

You didn’t even realize he’d taken his cock out until you felt him line himself up with shaking hands, barely getting the tip in before he snapped his hips forward, burying himself inside you in one brutal thrust.

You cried out and Jisung growled, slamming his hand beside your head, forehead pressed to yours, golden eyes glazed over.

“Mine,” he gasped. “Fuck… Mine. Mine. Mine—”

Suddenly, he shoved your knees up, pressing them tightly to your chest as his hips snapped forward, rough and desperate. You cried out sharply, feeling stretched too wide, overwhelmed by the rawness of him filling you again and again. His teeth dragged harshly against your throat, marking you repeatedly, as if he couldn't bear the thought of anyone mistaking you for anything but his.

You sobbed beneath him, your body caught between pain and a pleasure that blurred into something unbearable. Part of you wondered numbly if it would have changed anything if you'd told Jisung it was your first time—if it would've made him pause, slow down, be gentler. But you knew it wouldn't have mattered. He wasn't fully himself, and even if some part of him wanted to stop, he couldn't.

You felt it then, the swelling at his base. His knot beginning to expand, stretching your entrance wider with every punishing thrust. Panic mixed with need, your mind spinning as your walls spasmed around him.

“Gonna knot you,” he panted desperately, voice breaking as he slammed into you harder. “Can’t stop—fuck, you feel so perfect—gonna keep you like this forever—”

He thrust deeply one last time and locked himself inside, his knot catching and sealing him within you. You screamed, body jolting at the sudden fullness, the pressure almost too much. He shuddered violently above you, his cum flooding hot and deep, twitching through aftershocks that made your thighs quake and your vision blur.

You barely had time to gasp a breath before his knot began to soften, still pulsing faintly inside you. But Jisung didn’t stop, not even for a moment.

Before you could recover, he flipped you roughly onto your stomach, the mattress creaking sharply beneath you. He pressed into you again slowly, his breathing ragged and hot against your sweat-damp back. You trembled uncontrollably beneath him, arms shaking, barely able to keep yourself upright.

“Jisung, wait—” your voice broke, a thin plea lost beneath the rasp of his breath.

But he didn’t acknowledge your begging. One hand pinned your hip firmly, the other flattened between your shoulders, forcing you down into the sheets until you couldn’t move. You felt the ache building again as he pushed inside you once more, pushing mercilessly against your walls. Your thighs burned, your body instinctively arching to escape the overstimulation, but he wouldn’t allow you to shift away.

The moment he felt how wet and open you still were, the last shred of his restraint shattered. His rhythm turned frantic, his hips slamming into yours so fiercely the air was knocked from your lungs with every brutal stroke.

You moaned helplessly into the sheets, fingers clawing at the mattress as your body surrendered. He wasn’t speaking now, wasn’t asking if you were okay—all you heard were harsh, ragged sounds torn from his throat, desperate noises so primal and raw they made your skin burn hot with shameful need.

His movements grew rougher, your bodies locked in a rhythm that erased any remaining thought from your mind. Your senses narrowed until all you knew was the brutal heat between your thighs and the ache of him stretching you. You took every thrust, helpless to stop, unable to do anything but accept the ruthless force of his body on yours.

His teeth bit sharply into the back of your shoulder, fangs scraping against your skin until you gasped in pain. His grip tightened, fingers bruising your hips as he pounded into you without mercy, branding you with every brutal snap of his hips.

With one final thrust, he buried himself impossibly deep, and you felt the knot swell again—filling you, stretching you beyond limits as he locked himself inside with a guttural growl.

His whole body jerked, cock throbbing violently as he spilled into you again. It was so much cum it leaked around the thick swell of his knot, your walls clenching tight, helpless to hold it all in. He held still, panting, hands trembling as he stayed buried in you, locked and pulsing.

He stayed inside you for what felt like forever, body trembling from release, your muscles fluttering weakly around him. His breath came in uneven bursts against your skin.

But even then, you could feel that he wasn’t finished.

He rutted again and let out a feral sound low in his throat, one that sounded more like a growl than a moan. And then he was moving just enough to slip free with a wet sound that made both of you shiver.

His hands moved to your waist, lifting you. He dragged you onto your back again, spread your thighs wide, and settled between them with a single-minded hunger that made your whole body pulse with anticipation.

His gaze dropped the moment he pushed back in and he groaned, eyes locked between your legs with an obsessive intensity. Your walls clenched around him as his cock slid in with zero resistance. His breath hitched, and he stopped for just a second.

His mouth parted when he saw the shape of him pushing inside you, deep enough to press against your belly, the bulge rising with every brutal thrust. He pressed his palm against it and let out a wrecked moan. The sight of his cock inside your belly driving him halfway mad.

“Fuck,” he choked. “That's me? inside you?”

You tried to answer, but all that came out was a gasp as he rocked into you harder.

He watched your stomach move with every stroke, how your cunt took all of him, again and again, walls fluttering around his cock like your body was desperate to keep him.

He was mesmerized. Staring with wide, hungry eyes as hips snapped forward with more force. One of his hands grabbed your thigh, the other pressing to your lower belly as he kept thrusting, rougher this time, watching the bulge disappear and return with every movement.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “you’re made for this—fuck—you’re made to take me like this—”

You could feel the knot swelling again, dragging harder against your soaked, overstretched entrance, until your legs started to shake. He braced both hands on either side of your hips, growled deep in his chest, and slammed forward. The knot forced its way in with a brutal stretch that made your eyes roll back.

His whole body jerked, head falling forward as a strangled moan left his lips. His cock twitched violently, knot fully buried, and you felt the rush of his cum flooding you again, deeper this time, deeper than anything had ever been.

His eyes were still locked on your lower stomach, wide and blown out with awe. The bulge in your belly pulsed with each twitch of his knot, round and taut with the sheer amount he’d pumped into you

“Look at that,” he whispered, almost dazed. “Look what I did to you.”

He reached out again, fingertips brushing against your stomach and the possessiveness in his voice made your body clench all over again.

“I'm inside you.”

He blinked, his eyes flickering to your face as he really looked at you for the first time.

You were trembling, bruised, and barely able to keep your legs from shaking. Your eyes were glassy, your body completely spent beneath him. And something in him seemed to return.

His hands gentled against your skin as he eased out of you slowly, knot slipping free with an aching stretch that made you whimper. You gasped at the sudden emptiness, but he didn’t leave you long. He kissed your thigh once, softly, as if in apology, and then lowered himself between your legs.

You barely had the strength to lift your head. “Ji—what are you doing…”

But he didn’t answer. Just held your thighs gently in his hands, spreading them open again but this time with reverence, not greed.

Then he licked a single, languid drag of his tongue that made your hips twitch weakly. He groaned low in his throat at the taste of you.

You whimpered, the oversensitivity almost unbearable but his hands kept you grounded. Thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your hips, mouth moving with an aching kind of care. He sucked gently at your clit, tongue flicking in slow passes, easing the pain into something warmer.

You threaded trembling fingers through his hair, tugging gently.

His mouth grew more desperate by the second, tongue dipping lower and teasing at your entrance where his cum was still leaking out. He groaned at the taste, sucking softly, messy and slow, like he couldn’t get enough of it. Of you.

He buried himself there with his nose pressed into your skin, mouth drinking you. You let out a soft cry, hips twitching against his face, and his grip tightened just enough to hold you still as he circled your clit again, tender but insistent.

“I need to make it better,” he murmured into your skin, voice hoarse and reverent. “Let me—please…”

You didn’t answer but the way your legs shook around his head told him everything. So he stayed there—worshipping the mess he made, tongue moving slow and devoted, lips soft and endless. He lost himself in you.

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the pain.

It was deep and dull at first, but the moment you shifted, it sharpened—radiating through your thighs, your lower back, your hips. Your skin felt hot, stretched too thin in some places, sore in others. You winced as you tried to sit up, limbs trembling slightly from the effort.

Jisung was already awake. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from you, his robes wrapped tightly around him. His shoulders were stiff.

You swallowed through the dryness in your throat. “Ji?”

He stood up without looking at you.

You watched him move across the room, hands twitching at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. He picked up your clothes from the floor—torn in multiple places, seams ripped from how desperately he’d removed them the night before—and with a flick of his wand, the fabric mended itself slowly in the air.

“Get dressed,” he said flatly. “I’ll help you get back to the hospital wing.”

You blinked. “Back to the—what?”

He turned then, just slightly, just enough to look at you briefly. His eyes were guilt-ridden.

“You’re hurt,” he said. “I can see it.”

Your mouth opened, but no words came out.

“And I’m going to Snape later,” he continued. “I’m going to ask him to relocate me during the next cycle. Somewhere far from here.”

You stared at him, stunned. “Jisung, you don’t have to—”

“I do,” he snapped. “Because this—” He gestured toward you, his voice colder now. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

Your heart twisted.

“I told you to stay away,” he said. “And I didn’t mean that to sound cruel. I meant it because I knew I’d lose control. And I did… and now look at you.”

He walked toward the cracked mirror, stopped a few feet in front of it, and gestured for you to come closer.

You hesitated.

“Please,” he said, quieter now. “Just… come here.”

You stood slowly, legs shaking slightly under your weight. You wrapped yourself in the blanket and stepped toward the mirror.

Your reflection made your breath hitch.

There were bruises on your neck, angry bite marks along your collarbone and shoulder. Finger-shaped welts on your hips and thighs. Your lips were still swollen from where he’d kissed you too hard. Some of the marks looked deep. Others looked like they might last days, if not longer.

“I didn’t know I was capable of this,” Jisung said behind you, voice cracking.

You looked at him through the mirror. His face was pale, jaw tight.

“I’d rather suffer the worst pain a rut could ever give me than ever touch you like that again.”

“Jisung—”

“No,” he cut you off. “You don’t understand. I didn’t even care if I was hurting you. I couldn’t think. You could’ve cried, begged, screamed, and I still would’ve—”

He stopped himself, breathing hard.

“I’m not going to let this happen again. I’ll talk to Snape. I’ll take whatever dose he gives me. I’ll lock myself somewhere no one can find me.”

You stepped forward, reaching for him, but he flinched when your fingers brushed his sleeve.

He turned his face away. “Get dressed,” he said quietly. “Please.”

There was nothing else to say.

He handed you your clothes without looking at you again. When you were dressed, he silently moved to support your weight down the stairs and back toward the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow.

Your legs ached with every step. Jisung’s arm was around your waist, holding you upright as you moved slowly down the path back to the castle, your freshly repaired clothes felt stiff and uncomfortable against your bruised skin.

You hadn’t said a word since leaving the Shrieking Shack. Neither had he.

His touch wasn’t warm, or comforting. It was careful and detached. Like he was holding you not out of care, but out of obligation.

Your heart hurt more than your body. You two had been close for so long. Even after he’d changed, after he came back cold, distant, guarded you still felt more warmth than right now. Like he was reaching for you even when he didn’t realize it. So seeing him acting like this was almost unbearable.

You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t rejection or shame. That he was just protecting you, trying to keep you safe. But it still felt like being left behind.

You didn’t even realize how close you were to the castle until the path curved and the first archway of the courtyard came into view.

“Park.”

Professor Snape stood just beyond the arch, his arms crossed over his chest, black robes billowing faintly in the wind. His gaze flicked over the two of you quickly. His eyes dropped to the way you leaned into Jisung, to your limp. And then he saw the bruises. Even with your collar pulled tight, they peeked out, the edges of bite marks and the faint discoloration just beneath the skin.

Snape’s eyes narrowed.

“Come here,” he said, voice cold.

Jisung didn’t move.

Snape stepped forward. “Now.”

You felt the panic rise in your chest immediately.

“Professor, wait. It’s not—he didn’t—” You reached for his sleeve. “He didn’t force me.”

Snape’s eyes snapped to yours, and for a moment, you almost stepped back. His expression didn’t change, but something in it darkened like your words had confirmed what he already suspected.

“I didn’t ask what he did,” he said sharply. “I asked him to come with me.”

Jisung’s jaw was clenched so tightly it looked painful. He didn’t say a word, just let go of you carefully.

You nearly stumbled from the sudden absence of support.

“I can explain—” you tried again, but Snape raised a hand.

“This is not your responsibility,” he said, more quietly this time. “And you are in no condition to be standing here arguing.”

He turned to Jisung once more.

“Park. Now.”

And without looking back at you, Jisung walked toward him.

You stood there trembling, arms wrapped around yourself, the chill settling deeper into your bones now that he was gone.

Jisung stood in the doorway of Snape’s office with his head hung low. The potions master had stepped away to ensure you made it safely to the hospital wing and to explain the delicate situation to the healers. Minutes stretched on endlessly until finally, he heard the sharp clack of Snape's shoes approaching.

“Go in,” Snape ordered coldly, gesturing toward the open door. The Hufflepuff obeyed silently.

Snape shut the office door behind them with a flick of his wand. The room smelled of ash and damp parchment, but Jisung could still smell your scent stronger than anything else; it clung to him, saturated his senses.

“Sit,” Snape instructed curtly.

Jisung lowered himself into the hard chair opposite the desk, shoulders slumped. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Snape’s eyes.

“How is she?” he asked softly, voice raw.

“She’ll live,” Snape replied coolly, summoning a few vials and herbs onto his desk. “Madam Pomfrey is treating the bruising you saw fit to decorate her with.”

Jisung’s head snapped up, panic clear in his gaze. “I—I bit her. More than once.” The admission spilled out before he could stop himself, heavy with guilt and shame. “Does that mean—”

“No,” Snape interjected sharply. “The curse passes only when the biter is fully transformed under the full moon. You were saturated with Wolfsbane, half-shifted but not contagious.”

Jisung exhaled sharply, gripping the chair arms until his knuckles whitened. Relief flooded him, but Snape wasn't done.

“However,” Snape continued, voice lowering dangerously, “do not delude yourself into believing she was truly safe. Had you missed even one additional dose, or had the moon been at its peak, she would already share your curse, and that responsibility would lie entirely with you.”

Jisung flinched. “I know. I—I keep hurting her. I keep losing control, and no matter how much I try to stay away, something just…pulls me back. I don’t know how to stop it.”

Snape regarded him for a moment in silence before speaking, voice softer but still edged with steel. “That��s because it is no longer a matter of mere control. You've complicated things significantly, Park.”

Jisung looked up slowly, eyes wide with apprehension. “What do you mean?”

Snape folded his hands on the desk, expression severe yet composed. “By marking her during your rut, you've effectively chosen Miss Y/N as your mate.”

Jisung’s breath caught, his throat tightening painfully. "Mate? I—what does that mean?”

“It means,” Snape explained, calm and clinical, “that your wolf has identified her specifically as an anchor. Such mate-bonds occur most commonly during adolescence, particularly around a first transformation. It's why you find yourself physically unable to stay away for long.”

Jisung swallowed, panic bubbling up again. “Is it dangerous? Will I hurt her more?”

“Not inherently,” Snape said evenly. “But the bond is permanent, Park. Your wolf will always crave her presence—most intensely near the full moon or during rut. Ignoring it will only worsen your aggression.”

“Then…what can I do?” Jisung asked desperately. “How do I keep her safe?”

“You must never skip your Wolfsbane. Take it every evening at sundown and report to me regularly so we can adjust dosage accordingly. Furthermore, and pay attention to this, you must manage your bond carefully. You cannot fight it entirely so stay close to her but with awareness, not indulgence. ”

Jisung flushed deeply. “But… after everything I've done, how can I risk being close to her again?”

Snape leaned forward slightly. “The greater risk lies in distance, your instincts will spiral. Proximity is crucial but do not confuse instinct for entitlement.”

Jisung nodded slowly, the weight of responsibility settling heavily onto his shoulders. “Does she…know?”

“She soon will,” Snape replied quietly. “But it is essential she hears it clearly from you. Be honest and thorough. Do you understand me, Park?”

“Yes, sir,” Jisung whispered. “I won't fail her again.”

Snape regarded him a moment longer, then produced a fresh vial of Wolfsbane, setting it decisively on the desk. “Good. Now leave before I decide silence is insufficient punishment.”

Jisung rose unsteadily, clutching the vial to his chest. He walked slowly to the threshold, feeling every step heavy with responsibility. Just as he reached the door, Snape spoke once more.

“Park, if you truly care for the girl, learn how to live with the wolf without letting it consume her.”

The door sealed shut behind him, and Jisung stood for a long moment in the corridor, the potion trembling slightly in his grip.

You lay on one of the hospital wing beds, half-covered by a sterile white blanket, the curtains drawn tightly around you. The air was too quiet, every sound outside muted by the silencing charm Madam Pomfrey had casted when she left you there.

You picked at your cuticles absently, barely noticing the sting where skin peeled back. Your hospital gown gaped at the shoulders, revealing the bruises along your arms in the shape of fingers. Jisung’s fingers. You should’ve been horrified and maybe you were a little bit but there was something strangely comforting about them. His hands had held you through something painful, but they had held you. It made you feel... needed. Like you mattered to him again.

Your thoughts scattered when the curtain parted and Madam Pomfrey stepped through, her face tight with concern. Behind her came Professor Sprout, head of Hufflepuff house. And just before the curtain fell shut again, you caught the edge of black robes retreating down the ward—Snape. He’d definitely told them everything.

You bit your lip and dropped your gaze.

“Hello, dear,” Pomfrey said gently. When you didn’t answer, she cleared her throat. “To begin with, I’d like to offer you a calming draught for the pain.”

“I’m fine,” you said quietly, though your whole body ached. You didn’t want to take anything that would fog your thoughts. You needed to stay alert to explain the situation.

“Well…” she murmured, unconvinced. “Then I’ll start with the surface wounds.”

She gestured toward the scratches and crescent-shaped bites along your shoulders and collarbone. You stayed still while she worked.

Professor Sprout stepped closer, arms folded tightly across her chest. “Miss Y/LN,” she began carefully. “There’s no need to be guarded with us. We’re not here to punish you… but there are a few matters that need to be addressed.”

You nodded wordlessly, eyes fixed on a wrinkle in the bedsheet.

“Madam Pomfrey will heal what she can,” she continued. “But the bite marks will take several days to fade. Magical injuries of this nature are… stubborn.”

“I understand,” you murmured. The marks didn’t bother you.

Professor Sprout hesitated, color rising faintly in her cheeks. “We also understand that Mr. Park was… in a heightened state when you were intimate.”

You saw her flinch slightly at her own words and you almost pitied her. There was no elegant way to discuss something like this. You nodded once.

“Am I correct to assume no contraceptive charms were cast beforehand?”

Your brows pulled together. You’d never studied contraceptive spells properly. You knew they were meant to be used before any intimacy though and given how everything had happened there hadn’t been time for anything like that. You shook your head slowly.

Professor Sprout exchanged a brief look with Pomfrey before exhaling slowly. “Very well. Madam Pomfrey will now perform a diagnostic charm to ensure no unintended consequences arise from your… encounter.”

You nodded again, tending slight when Madam Pomfrey raised her wand and murmured a spell. A pale lavender glow swept across your lower abdomen then faded without a flicker.

“No conception,” she announced softly. “Everything is normal.”

A breath you hadn’t realized you were holding slipped out and you noticed Professor Sprout’s shoulders ease a fraction.

Pomfrey lowered her wand, relief softening the stern set of her mouth. Then she hesitated, studying you over the rims of her spectacles.

“Dear, may I give you some practical advice?”

You nodded, cheeks still furiously warm.

She lifted her wand again. “There are several reliable contraceptive charms you can use. The simplest is Praeventa Conceptum. It’s quick, painless, and lasts a whole day.”

Professor Sprout cleared her throat delicately but said nothing.

Pomfrey demonstrated. She pointed her wand at her own midsection. “Circle once, clockwise, like so.” A pale halo of light traced the motion. “Then speak Prae‑ven‑ta Con‑cep‑tum. Stress on the second syllable of each word. The charm settles just beneath the skin and it’s a mild warming sensation, nothing more.”

You mimicked the motion in the air, whispering the incantation under your breath. A faint peach‑colored glow sparked at your wand tip and faded.

“Good,” Madam Pomfrey said, satisfied. “Remember, the charm must be renewed daily, and it is far more reliable when cast prior to any sexual activity.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, both grateful and faintly embarrassed.

Professor Sprout offered a small, reassuring nod. “Better to learn here than under far less ideal circumstances.”

Pomfrey tucked her wand away. “Knowledge is its own protection.”

“Again, you are not at fault for any of this,” Sprout added, voice firm. “Last night’s events were influenced by circumstances far beyond your control.”

“Is he okay?” you asked softly.

A shadow crossed the professor’s eyes. “Mr. Park is with Professor Snape now, discussing the seriousness of missing future doses of Wolfsbane.” Her tone suggested ‘discussion’ meant something closer to a dressing‑down. “He’ll be monitored closely.”

“It wasn’t his fault,” you said, fingers worrying the edge of the sheet. “I followed him there, fully aware of the consequences. I just wanted to help… and I don’t regret it.”

Madam Pomfrey’s brows knit, but it was Professor Sprout who spoke first. “Miss Y/L/N, no one here is assigning blame. What matters now is that both of you are safe, and that Mr. Park remains diligent with his potion.” Her gaze softened. “Your loyalty is commendable, but your well‑being is equally important.”

You nodded, swallowing the dryness in your throat. “I know.”

Pomfrey dabbed a final line of salve across the deepest bite mark. “You’ll be sore,” she said gently, “but you’ll heal. Rest here tonight, at least until breakfast.”

The curtain swayed gently as they left you alone, and you stared ahead thinking only of the warmth of his breath, the panic in his voice, and the way he’d whispered “you shouldn’t have come” like it had broken him to see you there.

But you would do it all again.

Madam Pomfrey cleared you for release just after sunrise. You dressed in silence, fingers brushing over the gauze she’d left on the deepest bite. She offered one last vial of bruise balm and a faint smile before sending you off.

It was Saturday, thank Merlin. There were no classes so most students were still sleeping. You were relieved as you stepped out of the hospital wing, and saw nothing but an empty corridor.

Though still a strange, hollow pressure settled in your chest. You missed Jisung.

You weren’t sure if it was the residual ache in your muscles, or the fading imprints he’d left on your body, but you felt the absence of him like it was stitched into your skin. You needed to see him.

And then, as if your thoughts conjured him, he appeared.

Jisung was standing at the other end of the hallway, just beyond the shaft of sunlight spilling in from the tall windows. He looked stunned to see you, like he hadn’t meant to be here, like his feet had brought him without his permission.

You hesitated.

Snape had surely warned him again—more strictly this time—to stay away from you. But still, Jisung took a step forward and you followed.

You met in the middle of the hallway, stopping close enough that your chests nearly touched. It wasn’t until you were standing in front of him that you realized how much he’d changed. He was taller now, just slightly, but it was enough to notice. His shoulders were broader, his presence heavier, like the wolf was still there beneath the surface.

He stared at the bruises along your collarbone, what little was visible through the open neck of your shirt. You saw the way his throat bobbed, how his eyes flickered with guilt.

“Are you—?”

“I’m okay, Ji,” you cut in gently, offering him a small smile. “Perfectly fine.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He exhaled shakily, and his hand reached for yours tentatively. You almost gasped at the contact. It had been so long since he touched you first. His fingers threaded through yours like they were remembering how easily he did this all the time before.

“You don’t have to be,” you whispered. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Your other hand rose instinctively, brushing against his cheek. He leaned into the touch immediately, eyes fluttering closed.

“Did Snape scold you too badly?” you asked, voice soft and teasing.

Jisung cracked a smile. “Yeah, I have to clean the Quidditch stands every day this winter without magic.”

Your eyes widened. “Seriously?”

He laughed. “I’m joking.” He paused, eyes searching yours. “Though honestly… I think I deserved one.”

You squeezed his hand gently. “You’ve been punished enough.”

He didn’t respond, just looked at you like he was still trying to figure out if this moment was real.

The corridor felt suddenly too small, so without speaking, you guided Jisung toward the nearest side door that opened onto the courtyard. The November air was sharp, but sunlight spilled across damp flagstones and carried the faint scent of wet leaves.

You walked side by side, your shoulders brushing now and then. After a long stretch of silence, Jisung spoke in a quiet voice. “Do you remember fifth year… when we hid in Greenhouse Three during that thunderstorm?”

You smiled. “And you spent the whole time pretending not to be scared of lightning.”

He huffed a soft laugh. “I kept thinking about that last night. How you held my hand and told me storms always pass.” He glanced at you, guilt and wonder warring in his eyes. “I wanted to go there initially. But then I smelled you, and I went to the Shack instead, thinking you wouldn’t follow me into a place like that.” He laughed bitterly. “I should’ve known better.”

The admission loosened something tight inside you. “Storms pass, Ji,” you said. “Even the ones inside us.”

He stopped, turning to face you fully. “Does this one? Because I can still feel it.” His gaze flicked to your neck where a bruise peeked above your collar. “I feel every mark I left on you like they’re on my body, too.”

You lifted a hand to his chest, just over his heartbeat. “You didn’t hurt me.”

He looked at you, like he almost believed it, but the tension in his jaw said otherwise. “Snape told me… the biting… it wasn’t random.” he dropped his gaze and bit his lip nervously “I… marked you.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t interrupt.

“He said you’re my mate now,” he said quietly. “That the wolf chose you. That’s why I can’t stay away. Why I can’t stop smelling you, hearing you even when you’re not around. Why it feels like something’s ripping open in my chest when I try to stay away.”

You stood still, eyes locked on his.

“He said I shouldn’t fight it. That if I try to pretend the bond doesn’t exist, it’ll make it worse. That I just have to be… careful and gentle with it. With you.” He exhaled, voice tight. “He said if I really want to protect you, I have to learn how to live with the wolf, not push it down.”

“What did you say?” you finally asked.

“I told him I’d do anything to keep you safe,” Jisung said. “And I meant it.”

You reached for his hand and he let you take it, though his fingers twitched.

“The bond… is that why you came to the Hospital Wing corridor?”

He nodded, shame creasing his brow. “I woke up and… I was already walking there. I didn’t think.”

“Then next time, think and tell me,” you said. “We’ll handle the need together. On our terms.”

He swallowed. “Snape says if I miss a potion… you’ll be in danger first.”

“Then you won’t miss it.” Your tone brooked no argument. “Even if I have to brew it myself.”

A faint smile ghosted his lips. “You’d sit through that smell?”

“I’d sit through worse.” Your thumb stroked over his knuckles.

He exhaled shakily, some of the tension easing, though the gold still flickered behind his eyes like embers. “I’m not safe yet,” he warned.

“That’s okay,” you answered, stepping close until your foreheads touched. “I’m not scared.”

For a while you simply stood in the sunlight, listening to the distant chatter of students who knew nothing about storms or wolves or the way a heartbeat could echo in someone else’s chest. His hand tightened around yours, and instinctively you looked up, meeting his gaze.

His eyes flickered down to your lips, hesitation clear in the tense line of his jaw. Before he could withdraw, before he could overthink it, you stepped on your tippy toes and pressed your mouth gently to his.

It began softly, a cautious brush of lips but it escalated quickly. His mouth opened hungrily, tongue sliding against your teeth, and you gave in with a low sigh. His hand found your waist first, pulling you closer, then slid up to cup the back of your neck, angling your head so he could deepen the kiss. Your fingers tangled through his messy hair, tugging gently. He groaned into your mouth, hips pressing forward instinctively until you were pinned softly against the rough stone wall.

“I can’t lose control again,” he murmured urgently against your lips but still he kissed you harder, as if he couldn’t pull away even if he wanted to.

“You won’t,” you promised breathlessly. “This is fine.”

His hips snapped forward again, pressing you tighter to the stone behind you. You knew you were out in the open—anyone could pass by and see—but caution melted beneath the heat of his mouth trailing down your neck. The dull soreness from the previous night faded to a faint pulse, replaced by something hungrier, as he sucked gently at your throat.

“Ji—” your voice shook softly, hands gripping his robes tighter. “You’re… you’re not still in rut, right?”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “No. No, I don’t think so,” he panted roughly, almost like he was convincing himself too. “It doesn’t feel the same as last night, but—” He exhaled shakily, pressing his forehead to yours “I want you. Fuck, I want you so bad—I don’t think I’ll ever stop wanting you.”

A helpless moan escaped you at the raw admission, your pulse quickening under his mouth when he kissed you again—softer now, more controlled, as if he was proving to himself he could do this without falling apart.

“I won’t let myself hurt you again,” he breathed, lips brushing your skin between each whispered word. “But you need to tell me if it’s too much”

You shook your head slightly, pulling him closer still, holding him like he was the only thing keeping you upright. “Ji, nothing’s ever too much with you. Just stay here… stay with me.”

He shivered, his breath hitching as he kissed you again, trying to ground himself in the feeling of you rather than the wild instinct still whispering beneath his skin.

Someone laughed nearby, close enough to remind you exactly where you were.

Jisung froze against you, his forehead dropping to your shoulder with a soft groan. “We need to move,” he muttered “If anyone sees—”

“Then come on,” you said grabbing his hand.

He followed without another word.

You tugged him along a narrow side-corridor, the secret path behind the Herbology wing that only upper years and rule-breakers bothered with. Past the old broom cupboard, beyond the faded tapestry of a witch laughing drunkenly into her wine goblet, your footsteps were quiet, your pulse anything but. It hammered through your veins, in your fingertips, your throat—everywhere Jisung’s hand stayed locked in yours.

Soon you stood outside Greenhouse Three, abandoned since the storm in your fifth year shattered half its glass panes. Now, ivy and moss crawled along the cracked glass walls, and no one had bothered to repair it, leaving the space forgotten and overgrown.

You slipped through the splintered wooden door, pulling him gently behind you.

Inside, sunlight spilled across broken tables and tangled greenery. Plants had grown wild, illing the air with the scent of damp earth, crushed leaves, and something faintly sweet. You felt your chest tighten from the memory of your younger selves hiding here together.

Jisung remembered it too, you could see it in the softening of his eyes, the way his shoulders relaxed slightly. He caught your lips again, slow at first, but deepening fast, pulling a moan from your throat. Your hands gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him in until you tasted him fully.

“I want you inside me,” you whispered against his mouth, fingers trembling as you tugged at his clothes again.

He groaned softly, forehead pressing to yours. “Say it again.”

Your breath shuddered. “I want you to fuck me, Ji. Right now.”

He kissed you once more, messy and desperate, before stepping back just enough to undo his belt. His hands shook slightly, desire evident as he freed his cock—already hard and flushed, leaking at the tip as he positioned himself between your thighs. You lay back on one of the old greenhouse tables, cool beneath your skin but sturdy enough for this.

Jisung dragged the head of his cock through your folds, groaning openly at how wet you were, coating him perfectly. He pressed gently against your entrance, one hand braced beside your head, the other gripping your hip, thumb stroking tenderly.

He met your gaze, eyes filled with heated care. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he rasped, voice thick with want but edged with concern.

You cupped his cheek softly, eyes locked on his. “It’s perfect. It’s always perfect with you…Just fuck me, Ji.”

And he did.

The first thrust was slow, a deep stretch that pulled a gasp straight from your lungs. His cock slid in inch by inch until he bottomed out, and then he just held there, buried inside, groaning like he’d finally found home.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You’re so tight, you feel so—shit—you feel like you were made for me.”

You clenched around him involuntarily and he hissed, head dropping to your shoulder as he fought the urge to move too fast.

But control didn’t last long. His hips started to roll into yours, picking up a rhythm that got harder with each thrust. The sound of skin slapping echoed off the glass, mixed with your breathy moans and the desperate groans breaking in his throat.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, heels digging into his back, dragging him deeper.

“Yes, yes—right there—don’t stop,” you gasped.

“I won’t,” he growled. “I can’t.”

He drove into you harder, the table creaking beneath you as he pounded into your soaked cunt like he was trying to carve the shape of himself into your body. You arched under him, nails raking down his back through his shirt, gasping every time he bottomed out and hit that spot that made your toes curl.

He pulled out just enough to watch his cock slide back in.

“Look at this,” he breathed, one hand dragging down to your stomach, pressing just above your pubic bone. “Can feel myself right here.”

You could tell Jisung was obsessed with seeing himself inside you, it made his thrusts hit deeper just so he could feel himself in your lower belly. You moaned brokenly, the pressure making it worse, the angle driving you insane.

“Fuck, fuck—I’m gonna come,” you choked. “Don’t stop—please, don’t—”

“I want to feel it,” he growled. “Come on, baby. Come for me.”

Your body clamped down around him, walls spasming hard enough to make Jisung curse violently. He fucked you through it, rough thrusts stuttering until his own orgasm took him.

With a strangled groan, he slammed into you one last time and came hard, cock twitching deep inside you as he filled you again with thick spurts that made your pussy slicker than before.

He collapsed over you, forehead buried in your neck, both of you panting like you’d run for miles. His cock was still buried inside you, twitching with aftershocks.

You dragged your fingers through his hair gently, voice hoarse. “That didn’t feel like your rut.”

He laughed, breathless. “No. That was just me.”

“Are you okay?” he whispered into your neck, voice raw and reverent. “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head slowly. “You didn’t. You were perfect.”

He sighed against your skin, relief loosening his shoulders. Then, gently—so, so gently—he pulled out, groaning as his cock slipped free from your cunt. The mess between your legs was immediate, warmth spilling down your thighs, and you whimpered at the sensitivity.

“I got you,” he murmured, already reaching for his wand.

He muttered a quiet cleaning charm, careful not to touch you until you nodded. His hand brushed your knee, then your thigh, his fingers trembling as he whispered the incantation again and wiped away the rest with his robe sleeve.

When he was finished, he kissed the inside of your knee, then your hip, then your stomach like it was part of some silent apology only your skin could understand.

“I’m gonna help you down,” he said, voice soft.

You nodded, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you slowly from the table and holding you close while your legs adjusted. You swayed once, but he caught you instantly.

“You’re shaky,” he murmured.

“You fucked my legs numb, Park,” you whispered, trying to smile, and he let out a breathy laugh, burying his face in your neck.

“I’m never letting you go again,” he mumbled. “Not even if Snape drags me out of your bed himself.”

You held onto him tighter, forehead pressed to his collarbone. “You better keep that promise.”

He kissed your temple. Then your cheek. Then the corner of your mouth.

“I will,” he said. “Forever.”

He helped you sit on the edge of the table while he redressed—pulling his trousers back up, refastening his belt with one hand while the other stayed on your knee like he couldn’t bring himself to stop touching you. When he was done, he reached for your discarded panties, blushing faintly as he held them out to you.

“I should’ve asked first,” he said quietly. “Back then. In the shack.”

You looked up at him, heart aching. “You couldn’t. And I already told you… I don’t regret it.”

He nodded, but the guilt lingered behind his eyes. So you took his hand and laced your fingers through his again.

“We’ll be okay,” you said. “You and me.”

“We will,” he whispered.

You dressed in silence together, stealing soft glances and touches, letting the heat cool but not disappear. And when you finally stepped out of the greenhouse, blinking into the pale afternoon light, Jisung’s arm was already around your shoulders holding you close and as steady as the heartbeat you’d heard pounding through his chest not long ago.

And this time, when he kissed you, it wasn’t desperate or rushed. It was quiet and certain.

Like a promise kept.

eeeeek feedback is greatly appreciated! i love reading ur comments and anons <3

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enhaflixer · 2 months ago

Text

enhypen x f!reader - breeding kink + overstim

ENHA HARD HOURS 18+ MDNI okay so there is cockwarming, belly bulging, lots of dirty talk, and a bit of a lactation kink in sunghoons one and a daddy kink in jakes i think maybe sunghoon and jungwon take the cake for making me drip on this one honestly idek what i was thinking writing this one it was brain empty hands typing.

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠

Heeseung has been on edge all fucking evening.

It starts at dinner—his eyes glued to you the entire time, watching the way your sundress flutters around your thighs, the way you shift in your seat, completely oblivious to how wrecked he already is.

Then at home—the way you walk around the apartment, still wearing that same pretty little dress, still teasing him without even trying.

And now?

Now, you’re bent over to pick something up off the floor, the hem of your sundress lifting just enough to reveal a teasing glimpse of soft, bare skin.

And Heeseung snaps.

His hands are on you before you even realize he’s moved—gripping your hips, grinding his cock against your ass, letting out a deep, breathy groan that’s been building inside him all fucking day.

“Fuck, angel,” he hisses, his breath hot against your ear, his fingers gripping tight, keeping you in place. “You have any idea what you’ve been doing to me?”

You gasp, startled, hands clutching at the dresser in front of you for balance.

“Hee—”

“Walking around all day in this little dress,” he murmurs, one hand sliding down your stomach, dipping between your thighs, fingers grazing the soft skin just above your knee. “So short, angel. Barely covering anything. Did you wear this for me? Hm? You trying to make me lose my fucking mind?”

You feel his cock pressing against you, already so hard, already straining against his sweats.

And then—just to tease you, just to hear you whimper.

His fingers inch higher, slipping beneath the hem of your dress, tracing lazy circles up the inside of your thigh.

You shiver, biting your lip, trying to ignore the way your breath shakes beneath his touch.

“Ah, angel,” he breathes, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his fingers curling around the fabric of your dress, slowly, teasingly bunching it up.

Then, voice drenched in something dark, something hungry, something desperate.

“Bend over for me. Right now.”

You do.

Because how could you not?

Your body melts into his touch, your hands gripping the dresser, your back arching slightly as heeseung pushes your dress up around your waist.

And when he sees you like this—your ass bare, your thighs trembling, your slick already coating your inner thighs from how badly you’ve wanted him all day—

He groans, low and deep, head dropping to your shoulder.

“Jesus, baby—”

Then, in one slow, deep movement,

He slides his cock inside you.

You gasp, your body tensing, your fingers gripping the dresser so hard your knuckles turn white.

Because he’s so fucking deep.

Because he doesn’t ease into it.

Because he fills you up all at once, burying himself inside you in one smooth, deliberate thrust, stretching you open, pressing so deep you swear you feel him in your stomach.

Heeseung?

He moans.

Loud. Breathy. Wrecked.

His fingers dig into your hips, his chest heaving, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as he breathes through the feeling of being so deep inside you.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice shaking, his hands sliding up your back, keeping you pressed firmly against the dresser.

“You’re already sucking me in, angel. You want this that bad? Hm? Want me to fuck you stupid?”

You whimper, nodding desperately, already too lost in the pleasure to answer properly.

That’s all he needs.

Heeseung grins, voice dripping with filth, his hips snapping against yours as he starts fucking into you—deep, slow, grinding thrusts, pressing his cock as far inside as he can go.

His hands slide under your dress, gripping your tits, squeezing, rolling your sensitive nipples between his fingers, making you moan louder, making your body arch for him.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” he breathes, his lips dragging over your shoulder, biting down lightly. “Made for me. Made to take my cum. Gonna breed you, angel. Gonna fill you up so good you won’t need this dress anymore—gonna have my cum dripping down your thighs instead.”

When you clench around him at his words, Heeseung gasps, his pace stuttering, his fingers flexing against your skin.

“Shit—you like that, angel? Like when I talk about stuffing you full?”

He lets out a deep, filthy groan, his hips snapping faster, thrusting into you rougher, his breath ragged against your neck.

And then—his hand slides down, pressing against the bulge in your stomach, feeling the way his cock fills you up.

“Feel that?” His voice is low, husky, wrecked. “That’s me, angel. That’s where I’m gonna fucking fill you up.”

And then—as his thrusts turn erratic, as his breath catches, as his entire body tenses against yours.

He spills inside you.

His moans turn into soft, shaky gasps, his fingers dig into your hips, pressing you back onto him, making sure you take all of it.

And when he finally comes down, when his breath slows, when his forehead rests against the back of your neck,

He still doesn’t move.

He stays there, still deep inside you, still keeping his cum tucked inside where it belongs.

And then, so soft, so teasing, so unbearably filthy,

“Better not let a drop go to waste, angel. That dress was short enough already.”

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠

You’ve been bothering him all week.

You knew exactly what you were doing.

You did it in the kitchen— wrapping your arms around him from behind while he cooked, pressing your cheek to his back, whispering, “Baby, don’t you wanna give me a baby? One with your pretty eyes and my smile?”

You did it on the couch— climbing into his lap while he was watching TV, grinding against his cock through his sweats, murmuring against his lips, “Isn’t that what good husbands do? They give their wife whatever she wants?”

You did it in bed— naked, stretched out on top of him, licking the shell of his ear, dragging your fingers down his stomach, pressing soft, teasing kisses along his jaw.

“Fuck me full, Jay. Please, please, please—right now, right now, right now.”

Jay had been so fucking patient.

Just smiling, shaking his head, gripping your waist and kissing you deep, groaning as he held back.

But now?

Now, you’re doing it again—laying in bed, tangled up in his arms, whispering filth in his ear like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing to him.

“Please, baby,” your voice is sweet, breathy, teasing, your fingers trailing down his chest, your nails scraping lightly at his abs. “Please fill me up. I want you to make me a mommy, Jay. I want you to fuck me so deep that it sticks, want you to pump me so full of your cum I can’t even think, wanna be so full I can feel it dripping down my thighs—”

And Jay snaps.

One second, he’s laying there, listening, gritting his teeth, gripping the sheets so tight his knuckles turn white.

The next—he has you flipped onto your stomach, pinned beneath him, his hands grabbing at your hips, yanking them up, shoving a pillow under you, spreading you open for him.

His chest is rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths, his jaw clenched tight, his voice low and wrecked and dangerously strained.

“You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

You whimper, breath catching, fingers clutching at the pillow.

“Nope.”

And then you wiggle your hips back against him, your soaked cunt pressing against his rock-hard cock, teasing, taunting.

Jay loses it.

His hand flies to the back of your neck, pressing you down into the mattress, holding you there as he grinds against you, slow, deliberate, letting you feel exactly how hard you’ve made him.

His voice is low, dark, dripping with something dangerous.

“You’ve been begging for it all fucking week,” he murmurs, dragging the head of his cock between your folds, coating himself in your slick. “You want me to fuck a baby into you that bad, sweetheart?”

You whimper, pressing your ass back against him, nodding frantically.

“Yes—yes, please, Jay.”

And then—without another word, without another second of teasing.

Jay slams into you in one deep, brutal thrust.

You scream.

Your entire body jerks, your fingers claw at the pillow, your eyes go wide as he stretches you open, stuffing you full in one smooth motion, pressing so deep you swear you can feel him in your fucking throat.

Jay moans.

Loud. Deep. Wrecked.

His fingers dig into your hips, his head dropping forward, his chest pressing against your back, his breath shaky and hot against your ear.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice raw, his grip tightening. “You’re so fucking tight—”

And then he pulls back—just a little,

Before he fucks you.

Hard.

His pace is brutal, unforgiving, every snap of his hips forcing sharp little gasps from your throat, making your body jerk up against him, making you completely fucking helpless beneath him.

“You begged for this, baby,” he pants, his hand slipping under your stomach, pressing against the bulge in your belly, feeling himself inside you. “Begged for me to fuck you stupid, begged for me to breed you—so take it.”

You whimper, moaning brokenly, eyes rolling back as he fucks into you harder, deeper, rougher.

And when you start shaking, when your walls clamp down around him so tight he nearly fucking chokes.

Jay groans, wrecked and desperate, his cock twitching inside you.

His hand slides up, presses down against your stomach again.

“Fuck, baby,” he gasps, pressing harder, his voice shaking. “You’re gonna feel me inside you for fucking days.”

You whimper, body trembling, legs shaking, pleasure ripping through your body so intensely you feel like you might break.

And Jay?

Jay laughs, breathless, teasing, completely obsessed with the way you’re falling apart under him.

“Oh, baby,” his voice is soft now, gentle, dripping with something possessive and tender and absolutely filthy.

“You’re gonna look so fucking pretty carrying my baby.”

And then, with one final, deep thrust, pressing as far inside you as he can go,

He spills inside you.

His moans turn into soft, broken little gasps, his hips still rolling, still grinding, still fucking his cum deep inside you, making sure you take all of it.

But he doesn’t stop.

Because when he feels the way your walls flutter around him, still so tight, still so warm, still sucking him in,

He groans, his hands gripping your waist, keeping you in place.

“Oh, no, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice soft, teasing, completely fucked-out.

Then he pulls back and slams into you again.

“You wanted me to fuck a baby into you, didn’t you?” His voice is wrecked, strained, dripping with lust. “So let me make sure it fucking sticks.”

𝐒𝐢𝐦 𝐉𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐮𝐧

Jake has been suffering.

For months.

Maybe even longer.

The obsession started out innocent enough—little thoughts, little fantasies. At first, it was just an idea that curled up inside his brain whenever he looked at you. You, swollen with his baby, glowing, carrying the life he put inside you.

Then, it got worse.

It became a need.

A deep, aching, primal fucking need.

It was in the way he touched you—his hands sliding down to press warm and firm over your lower belly whenever he pulled you against him at night. The way his lips would linger there, soft and reverent, before murmuring “Wouldn’t it be nice, baby?” against your skin.

It was in the way he looked at you—his brown eyes dark and full of something dangerous, something obsessed, something close to unraveling every time you wore one of those tiny little dresses that clung to your body just right.

It was in the way he spoke to you.

Whispered things in public, just loud enough for you to hear.

“You’d be such a pretty mommy, you know that? I’d take such good care of you.”

“Bet you’d look so fucking good carrying my baby. All full of me, round and soft, showing everyone who you belong to.”

“You’d let me, wouldn’t you? Let me put a baby in you, fill you up just right, pump you so full you couldn’t even think about anything else.”

You just laughed.

Ruffled his hair, kissed him deep, tugged him by the belt into the bedroom but never let him finish inside.

Always made him pull out.

Always left him aching, desperate, completely wrecked.

Tonight, you’re done making him wait.

So you plan it.

You wait for him in bed—the room bathed in warm, flickering candlelight, wearing the tiniest, most delicate nightgown you own.

Wine red.

Thin straps barely clinging to your shoulders, the silk soft and sheer, dipping so dangerously low over your chest that your nipples are just barely hidden beneath the lace trim. The hem short enough that it barely covers the curve of your ass.

Your nails are painted the same deep shade, your toes, your lips—all matching, all designed to drive him insane.

And when Jake walks in—tie loosened, dress shirt slightly unbuttoned, hair already messy from running his fingers through it all day.

He stops in his tracks.

Dead fucking silent.

Like his brain just short-circuited.

His eyes drag over every inch of you,from the curve of your thighs, to the lace hanging off your skin, to the way you spread your legs just a little, dragging your fingers up your own thigh like you’re already waiting for him.

And then?

Then, you say the words.

“I stopped taking my birth control.”

Jake physically shudders.

Like a full-body tremor, a violent, wrecked little reaction, his hands clenching into fists, his pupils dilating so fast you swear you see them blow out completely black.

“What?” His voice is already wrecked, already hoarse, already breaking.

You tilt your head, smiling slow, lazy, teasing.

“I stopped taking my birth control, daddy.”

Jake fucking whimpers.

The sound that leaves his mouth is pathetic.

Absolutely wrecked.

His knees actually buckle, his hips twitch forward, his breath leaves him in sharp, ragged gasps like he’s already about to come just from hearing those words.

“Oh my fucking God—baby, please, please.”

He’s on you in seconds.

No hesitation.

His hands are all over you, grabbing at you, pulling you into his lap, grinding against you so hard it’s almost bruising. His mouth is everywhere,your neck, your collarbones, your chest, his breath shaking against your skin as he gasps against your lips.

“Say it again.” His voice is low, rough, dangerous. “Say it again, baby, tell me I can finally fucking breed you.”

You lick into his mouth, slow and teasing, dragging your fingers through his curls, gripping the back of his neck, whispering the words right against his lips.

“I stopped taking my birth control, daddy. Breed me. Fuck a baby into me.”

And Jake fucking breaks.

His hips buck up into yours so hard you feel his cock throbbing through his pants, his moan coming out high and whiny, completely fucking gone.

“Oh, f-fuck, oh my God, baby.”

His fingers fly to his belt, unbuckling it so fast that he nearly fumbles, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

When he finally gets his cock free, when he presses the leaking tip against your folds, dragging it through your slick.

His whole body shudders.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re dripping.” His voice breaks. “All for me? Huh? All for daddy’s cock?”

You whimper, shifting against him, rubbing yourself over his length, making him suck in a sharp, ragged breath.

“Fuck, baby, you’re already making a mess. You want it that bad, huh? Want me to pump you so full you’ll be dripping for days—”

And before you can even answer—before you can even fucking breathe, Jake slams into you.

Hard. Fast. Deep. Brutal.

You scream.

Your back arches, your hands claw at his shoulders, your body trembles from the sudden stretch, the overwhelming fullness.

And Jake?

Jake moans.

Loud. Choked. Completely fucking destroyed.

“Oh my God, baby—fuck!”

His hips jerk, his fingers digging into your waist, his forehead pressing against yours as he gasps for air.

And then he starts moving.

Fast.

Rough.

Completely feral.

“Gonna breed you, baby,” he pants, his voice cracking, shaking. “Gonna fill you up so fucking deep you’ll feel it for weeks—”

“Gonna fuck you till you can’t even stand, keep stuffing you with my cum until you can’t take anymore,”

And when you whimper, when your walls flutter around him, when your body shakes with the force of how deep he’s fucking you.

Jake snaps.

His hips stutter, his hands tremble, his moans turn into wrecked little whimpers.

“Oh, f-fuck, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna fucking come, baby, take it, take all of it,”

And then, with one final, deep, messy thrust, pressing as far inside you as he can,

He spills inside you.

And it doesn’t stop.

Jake is still moaning, still rutting into you, still grinding his cock as deep as it’ll go, his breath shaky, his whimpers high and needy as he fucks his cum deeper.

And then—his voice, soft, trembling, completely wrecked. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop, baby. Hope you meant it.”

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 (beware)

Sunghoon always pulls out.

Even when he’s panting against your skin, moaning your name, fucking you so deep and slow that you can feel every inch of him drag along your walls—he never lets himself go completely.

Even now, with you clenching around him, nails scratching down his back, his glasses fogging up from how deep he’s breathing, you know he’s still planning to pull out at the last second.

That’s why you decide to ruin him.

You drag your hands up his back, pulling him closer, pressing your lips to his ear, whispering sweet and filthy.

“Cum inside me.”

Sunghoon’s entire body locks up.

His hips stutter, his breath catches, his hands dig into your waist, holding you so tight you know you’ll have bruises tomorrow.

His voice comes out wrecked, hoarse, completely caught off guard.

“W-what?”

You tilt your head, letting your lips drag along his jaw, teasing, soft, sinful.

“I want you to cum inside me, baby. Fill me up. Give me everything.”

His eyes snap down to your tits immediately.

They’re bouncing every time he thrusts, slick and glistening with sweat, nipples hard and begging for his mouth.

Just like you knew he would,

Sunghoon loses it.

He grabs at them immediately, groaning as his fingers dig into the soft flesh, squeezing, kneading, pushing them together, watching how they spill through the gaps in his hands.

“F-fuck,” he chokes out, palming them roughly, sucking in a sharp breath. “You look so fucking good, baby. So soft,”

His head dips instantly, latching onto one of your nipples without hesitation.

The second his warm tongue flicks against the sensitive peak, you let out a soft moan, arching into his mouth, letting him bury his face between them.

“You love sucking on them, don’t you?” you murmur, fingers tugging his hair, keeping him there. “Bet you’ll love them even more when they’re bigger.”

He groans into your skin, sucking harder, tongue swirling, lips wet and messy.

“Bigger?” His voice is breathless, muffled against your tits, moaning between every word.

“Mmhmm,” you hum, raking your nails down his back, gasping when he nips at you. “They’re gonna get huge when you put a baby in me, Hoonie. Heavy. Sensitive. So full.”

Sunghoon whimpers.

Actually fucking whimpers.

His hips jerk forward on instinct, thrusting into you deeper, his breath getting shakier, more uneven, more desperate.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” you purr, rolling your hips against him, watching the way his brows furrow, the way his jaw clenches, the way he moans around your nipple. “Watching them get bigger just for you. All full with milk, leaking—”

Sunghoon gasps, moans so deep it vibrates against your skin, sucking harder, needier, sloppier.

“Fuck.” he chokes out, switching to your other nipple, latching on immediately, sucking so hard you swear you feel his tongue everywhere.

“You’d drink it for me, wouldn’t you, baby?” you whisper, watching the way his cock twitches inside you. “When they’re too heavy, when they ache, you’d help me, right? Suck it all out? Just like you’re doing now?”

His hips snap forward so hard you cry out.

His grip on your tits turns bruising, his moans completely fucked, completely broken, completely desperate.

“Oh my fucking God,” he gasps, pulling back just to stare at them, glossy with his spit, flushed and swollen. “You’re trying to fucking kill me,”

You laugh softly, dragging your fingers through his damp hair.

“Not my fault you get so horny for my tits, baby. Just imagine how they’ll look when you fuck a baby into me.”

Sunghoon lets out a wrecked, desperate groan, his eyes glued to your chest, hips moving faster, harder, deeper, his forehead pressing against your shoulder.

“You really fucking want it?” His voice is shaky, breathless, barely even there. “You want me to breed you, baby? Fill you up?”

“Yes, Hoonie,” you whimper, moaning his name, pulling him closer. “Want you to fuck me so full I start leaking. Want you to suck it out when it’s too much. Want you to make sure I stay full of your cum every single fucking night–”

Sunghoon snaps.

His hips slam into you harder, his moans turning high, breathless, broken.

“Oh my God, oh my God—I’m gonna fucking cum!”

His cock twitches, his entire body tenses, and then he’s spilling inside you, deep, hot, thick, endless.

His moans turn into soft, gasping whimpers, his hands trembling against your chest, still cupping your tits, still squeezing, still sucking softly at your flushed, sensitive skin.

You whisper in his ear, wrecked, sweet, teasing.

“You’re still sucking on them, baby,” you murmur, dragging your nails up his spine, making him shudder.

His hips twitch, still pressing into you, still rocking his cum deeper inside you.

“You wanna go again?” you whisper, breathless, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “We still need to make sure it doesn't leak.”

Sunghoon lets out a wrecked, broken moan, his cock already getting hard again.“Fuck—we’re not stopping.”

𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐨𝐨

Sunoo has been glowing all week.

Ever since you both agreed to start trying for a baby, he’s been softer, more affectionate, more eager to touch you at any given moment. His hands wander constantly—over your stomach, your waist, the dip of your spine, up under your shirt when he thinks you aren’t paying attention. Every night, he holds you just a little tighter, whispers just a little sweeter, kisses you just a little longer.

Tonight, he’s above you, warm and solid, his lips trailing soft, lingering kisses over your cheek, your jaw, the curve of your shoulder. His hips move slow, deep, rocking into you like he’s savoring every second.

“You feel so good,” he murmurs, breath warm against your skin. “Still can’t believe we’re really doing this.”

Your arms wrap around his back, fingers dragging over the smooth expanse of skin. His body shivers beneath your touch, his breath hitching as his rhythm falters for just a second.

“It’s real,” you whisper, pressing your lips against his temple. “You’re gonna fill me up so well, baby.”

A soft moan spills from his lips, a quiet little gasp that has you clenching around him. His hands tighten against your waist, gripping you like you might disappear.

“You really want that?” His voice shakes slightly, like he’s holding himself back.

You nod, brushing your lips against his ear. “Want all of you, Sunoo. Want you to give me everything.”

His movements grow more deliberate, more fluid, more desperate. His forehead presses against yours, his eyes fluttering shut as he lets out a shaky breath.

“You’re gonna be so pretty carrying my baby,” he whispers. “So full, so soft. I’ll take care of you, you know that, right?”

Your heart clenches, warmth blooming through your chest. You kiss him, slow and deep, letting him feel just how much you want this, how much you want him.

His pace quickens. He’s always been so careful, so sweet, but this is different. He’s lost in you, breath ragged, fingers flexing against your skin. Every thrust has him sinking deeper, pressing harder, like he’s trying to mark you from the inside out.

“I can’t stop,” he gasps, voice trembling, lips brushing over yours with every desperate exhale. “You feel too good, baby. I need—”

His voice breaks into a soft moan, the words fading into nothing as he presses deeper, holding you tight, completely and utterly lost.

Your legs tighten around his waist, keeping him buried inside you. He shudders when he feels it, his whole body tensing, his hips stuttering against yours.

“Give it to me, baby,” you whisper, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Make me full.”

Sunoo chokes on a breath, his moan turning into something high and sweet, completely wrecked. His hands tremble as he grips your thighs, pressing himself as deep as he can. His hips stutter, then still.

Warmth spreads through you as he spills inside, filling you up just like he promised.

But when you shift beneath him, when your walls flutter around him just right, he lets out a soft, helpless little whimper.

His cock twitches. His fingers dig into your skin.

“You’re still hard, baby,” you murmur, brushing your nose against his. “You wanna keep going?”

A small, breathless gasp leaves his lips, his body trembling above you.

“You feel so good,” he whispers. “I don’t think I can stop.”

He shifts slightly, hips pressing forward again, sinking deeper, still so sensitive, still shivering from his last orgasm. A soft, gasping moan spills from his lips, his fingers curling around your waist.

“You said you wanted everything,” he breathes, voice shaking, forehead pressing against yours.

His hips roll forward, slow but insistent.

“Let me give it to you.”

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐧 (BEWAREEEE)

Jungwon was trying to get some work done.

But no—you were being a spoiled little brat, sitting in his lap, cockwarming him like it was nothing, wiggling every few minutes, sighing dramatically while he pretended to ignore the way your walls squeezed around him every single time you shifted.

He tried.

Tried so hard to keep his focus, to type, to pretend that he wasn’t throbbing inside you, to act like he wasn’t just barely holding it together, until you spread your legs.

Until you dragged one of his busy hands off his keyboard, guided it down between your thighs, pressed his fingers against your swollen, needy clit.

His entire body tensed, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt, his fingers twitching against your heat.

“Baby.” His voice was low, warning, already strained. “What do you think you’re doing?”

You leaned in, lips brushing against his ear, breath hot, desperate, completely ruining him.

“Jungwon, please,” you whined, shifting slightly, feeling his cock press even deeper inside you. “Just give me a baby.”

His fingers tightened on your waist, his breath came out in a slow, sharp exhale, and his laptop screen went black as he slammed it shut.

“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, gripping your hips, pulling you down fully onto him, forcing a gasping moan from your lips.

But you didn’t care.

Didn’t care that he was fed up, that his patience had snapped, that he was trying so hard to stay in control.

Because your brain had already turned to mush, because you were so full, so stretched, so perfectly stuffed with his cock that you could feel him pushing against the walls of your stomach.

You wanted more.

“I wanna get pregnant again as soon as I give you one baby,” you gasped, your fingers trailing down your stomach, pressing against the bulge that was forming there, where his cock was stretching you open so perfectly.

Jungwon’s eyes snapped down to where your hand rested over your belly.

His cock twitched inside you, hard, needy, responding to every single word that fell from your mouth.

“You’re already stuffed full of me, and you’re still talking?” he growled, rolling his hips forward, sharp, deep, making you whimper.

But you wouldn’t stop.

Couldn’t stop.

Didn’t want to stop.

“I wanna be pregnant all the time,” you babbled, completely gone, rocking yourself onto him, feeling every inch drag along your sensitive walls. “I wanna push out quadruplets just so you can fuck me full again right after. Wanna—wanna be dripping with your cum all the time, Jungwon, wanna be permanently wet for you, wanna plug myself up with your cock so none of it leaks out—”

Jungwon sucked in a sharp breath, groaning deep in his chest, pressing his forehead against your shoulder as he gritted his teeth.

“You don’t know when to shut up, do you?”

You shook your head, whining, rolling your hips, your own hand slipping between your legs, pressing against your clit, rubbing messy little circles as you shuddered.

“Won’t stop,” you gasped, tilting your head to whisper against his jaw. “Not until you fuck me hard enough that you push your cum in so deep I'm sticky inside. Not until I’m so full I start leaking just from walking. Not until I have no choice but to plug it back in with my fingers because I can’t let a drop go to waste—”

His hands clamped down on your thighs, locking you in place, his breathing ragged, his entire body trembling beneath you.

“Keep talking,” he ordered, voice rough, barely restrained, something almost unhinged.

His hips snapped up into you, deep, sharp, over and over, your body jerking from the force, from the overstimulation, from the heat building inside you so fast it was making you dizzy.

But you still wouldn’t stop.

Couldn’t stop.

“Jungwon—oh my God, Jungwon, I wanna be pregnant so bad, I want all of your babies, I want to always be full, always be leaking, always— Fuck me so hard you'd turn one baby into triplets wouldn't you?”

His pace turned brutal.

No more teasing. No more patience. No more self-control.

“You wanna be fucked stupid, huh?” he growled, pulling you forward, pressing you flush against his chest, his voice hot and sharp in your ear.

You nodded frantically, sobbing out broken little moans, still rubbing at your clit, still rocking onto him, completely fucking insatiable.

“I’ll make sure it takes,” he muttered, grinding up into you, so deep you could feel him pressing against your stomach again. “I’ll fuck you so full you won’t even be able to think about anything else—”

His hands slid back down to your belly, pressing against the bulge, feeling where he was stretching you open.

“You feel that?” he groaned, digging his fingers into the soft flesh there, pressing against himself inside you.

Your body tensed, toes curling, every muscle trembling.

“That’s where I’m gonna pump you full. Right here, baby. That’s where I’m gonna make you a mommy.”

You let out a shattered cry, body clenching around him, pleasure crashing over you so violently your vision went white.

“Jungwon, oh my God, oh my God, I wanna be breastfeeding to newborns while you’re still fucking a third one right back into me, fuck i wanna be so full with you all the time my pussy permanently tastes like your cum please,” you babbled

He moaned, loud, ragged, desperate.

With one final, deep, ruthless thrust, pressing as far inside you as he could go, he spilled inside you.

Thick. Hot. Filling you completely, just like you begged for.

His fingers dug into your hips, his breath hitched, his body trembled beneath you, his lips parting in a wrecked little gasp.

But you weren’t done.

Couldn’t be done.

Would never be done.

You shuddered against him, whimpering, clenching around his cock, feeling the mess dripping out of you, feeling the heat of his release spreading through your stomach.

But it wasn’t enough.

Never enough.

“You can’t let any of it go to waste,” you panted, brain completely melted, fingers curling against his chest. “Jungwon, please, please.”

His head snapped up, eyes wild, hair damp, chest rising and falling in sharp, heaving breaths.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, shoving his fingers inside you, pushing his cum back in.

Your breath caught, body jerking, a high, wrecked sob escaping your throat.

“You wanted it, baby,” he murmured, voice dark, teasing, dripping with something possessive. “Wanted me to breed you, right? You’re gonna take every last drop.”

His lips brushed against your ear, his fingers sliding deeper.

“I won’t stop until you’re carrying my baby.”

𝐍𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐤𝐢

Riki doesn’t know when to stop.

Or, more accurately—he knows, but he doesn’t care.

He likes pushing you past your limits, watching you squirm, watching your body tremble from the sheer amount of pleasure he’s forcing you to take.

Right now, you’re under him, barely coherent, already so spent, so weak, so fucking wrecked, but he just grins down at you, completely unbothered, completely unaffected.

“You crying already, sweetheart?” His voice is smooth, teasing, so infuriatingly calm despite the way you’re falling apart.

You whimper, shaking your head even though tears are slipping down your cheeks, your entire body trembling beneath him.

Riki just laughs, soft and taunting, dragging his fingers down your stomach, feeling how your muscles twitch under his touch.

“Too bad,” he hums, adjusting his grip on your hips, tilting them up just slightly, making you feel every inch of him. “I’m not done yet.”

You let out a wrecked sob, your fingers clawing at the sheets, your mind too foggy, too overwhelmed, too overstimulated to form words.

His lips curl into a slow, lazy grin, fingers pressing against your trembling thighs, feeling the way they shake beneath his touch.

“You can take more,” he murmurs, his tone mocking, saccharine sweet, but underneath it, there’s something darker, something hungrier.

You try to shake your head, try to beg, try to push him away, but he just tuts, clicking his tongue.

“You say that,” he smirks, dragging a finger down your cheek, wiping away a tear, then bringing it to his lips, sucking it off like he actually enjoys the taste of your desperation. “But your body’s telling me something else.”

His hips snap forward, rough, slow, deep, forcing another gasping cry from your lips.

Your back arches off the bed, your head falling back, your breath leaving you in ragged, broken little sobs.

“Fuck, that’s pretty,” he groans, watching the way your body reacts, watching the way you squirm beneath him.

His fingers trail down, brushing over your sensitive clit, pressing down just slightly.

You flinch violently, a wrecked whimper leaving your lips, your thighs snapping shut on instinct.

Riki just grins, grabbing your legs, forcing them open again.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he murmurs, voice mocking, condescending, so fucking entertained by how wrecked you are. “None of that. You wanted this, remember? You wanted me to fuck you until you couldn’t think straight. How am I meant to fuck a baby into you if you’re behaving this way, honey?”

You shake your head frantically, breath catching, words slurring together as you try to plead with him.

“N-no, Riki—”

He tilts his head, eyes dark, completely unfazed.

“Sweetheart, I don’t remember giving you a choice.”

His fingers rub slow, lazy circles over your clit, his cock pressing even deeper, making your entire body jerk, making you cry out, making you twitch uncontrollably from the overwhelming sensation.

Tears slip down your cheeks, your breath coming in sharp, gasping sobs, your body trembling. He laughs, breathless and taunting, voice dripping with amusement.

“Shit,” he mutters, dragging his tongue along your jaw, pressing hot, teasing kisses against your throat. “You look so fucking good like this. Can’t even fight it anymore, can you?”

Your hands grip at his arms, weak, useless, just barely managing to keep hold of him as your vision goes hazy.

He leans in, lips brushing against your ear, voice low and dark and impossibly cruel.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he whispers, dragging his tongue along your earlobe, his fingers circling your overstimulated clit with cruel precision. “Give me one more.”

You let out a shattered cry, your body arching, shaking, breaking, pleasure tearing through you so violently it feels like you’re coming apart at the seams.

Your vision blurs, white-hot heat flooding through your veins, waves of ecstasy crashing over you so hard you swear you stop breathing.

Riki just grins, his voice soft, teasing, drenched in satisfaction.

“See? Told you you could take more.”

Your body twitches, trembles, shudders against him, your limbs limp, your mind blank, completely and utterly spent.

Riki clicks his tongue, watching the way you struggle to even keep your eyes open.

“Not passing out on me yet, are you?” His voice is mocking, amused, but underneath it, there’s something almost… affectionate.

“You can sleep when I’m done.”

TL: @ziiao @beariegyu @seonhoon @naurwayyyyy @somuchdard @ijustwannareadstuff20 @ddolleri @annybah @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @zzhengyu @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @highway-143 @koizekomi @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @cristy-101 @bloomiize @dearestdreamies @enhaverse713586 @cybe4 @starniras @wonuziex

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glitterjay · 2 years ago

Note

i need some thoughts on heeseung as a stomach bulge guy for... research purposes 📙✏

-T anon

this is such a heeseung thing. he’s one cocky mf and im sure of it, so being able to see his own bulge through his lover’s stomach makes him cum almost on the spot. he’d press his hand on your tummy and groan at the feeling of himself going in and out, purposefully going harder and faster just to feel it. “fuck baby… are you- are you seeing that? that’s mmgh! that’s me right there”

#kpop #hard hours #enhypen smut #enhypen #kpop smut #enhypen hard hours #engene #enhypen heeseung #enhypen heeseung smut #lee heeseung #lee heeseung smut #heeseung smut #stomach bulge

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r1kixss · 5 months ago

Text

Enhypen dick sizes but its realistic

genre: smut

heeseung- soft: 8cm hard: 16cm I've seen so many bulge pics of him and im gonna say his d is pretty thick

jay- soft: 10cm hard: 17cm saw so many bulge pics and I'll tell y'all hes big when hes soft. for him its both length and thick tbh

jake- soft: 6cm hard: 17cm hes a length>thick guy. ive seen some bulge pics and i would say hes pretty average too.

sunghoon- soft: 7cm hard: 17cm i feel like hes a grower. hes a thick>length guy imo.

sunoo- soft: 5cm hard: 14cm i don't see him as a guy with a big dick.

jungwon- soft: 5cm hard: 15/16cm i dont have much to say about him, but i think hes a grower too. hes pretty average for asians

riki- soft: 11cm hard: 17/18cm every single video or pic of him i seen his bulge is just huge. its like his dick begs to be let out lol

overall riki wins when it comes to dick size, not because hes my bias but genuinely all the pics made me think its big. just look ⬇️⬇️

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idols-in-sweatpants · 1 year ago

Note

heesung from enhypen?

I have this one picture of Heesung, and I can keep an eye out for more :3 thanks anon.

[ also forgot about these! ]

[ these pics are mine ]

#anon #answered #enhypen bulge #heesung bulge

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cinnamon-won · 2 years ago

Text

Stained | Enhypen Jungwon

⊱•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱

Words: 1.7k

Description: jungwon doesn’t want to ruin the clothes that were given to him for the photoshoot, but he just couldn’t resist your touch

Warnings: sub!jungwon, dry humping, slight degradation/ humiliation, pet names (baby, sweetheart etc), use of whore once +lmk if there’s more

Masterlist

⊱•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱

Jungwon had never been one to feel possessive but there were moments when he just couldn’t help himself. How could he when he could see you just a few feet away from him getting close to Jake as you helped him put contact lenses in. Jungwon knew it wasn’t a big deal - Jake struggled with contacts so it made sense for a stylist to help him out, but seeing your face so close to Jake’s drove him crazy.

“Almost got it… just stay still…” you mumbled under your breath as you worked. When it was done, Jake thanked you and went to get a snack from the table. You turned around and made eye contact with Jungwon, noting his late change of expression when you faced him. Unfortunately for him, you noticed the jealousy before he could mask it with a smile.

“It’s time for the final shoot, should we do youngest to oldest?” Their manager suggested, ushering the boys out to the set. You followed quietly joining the other stylists on set.

“Can someone fix Jungwon’s hair?” The manager called. Upon hearing your boyfriend’s name, you jumped up and walked onto the set, pulling a comb out of your work belt.

“Not sure what I’m meant to be fixing, you already look gorgeous,” you whispered as you did your job. Jungwon blushed, averting his eyes. In a situation where you were so close to him, he would usually put his arms around you and hold you even closer but he couldn’t do that in front of these people.

“Cat got your tongue sweetheart?“

“W-what am I meant to say?“ Jungwon mumbled.

“A simple thank you for the compliment maybe,” you muttered, making sure no one could hear you. “Meet me by the store room when you’re done.”

You took a few steps away from him and announced that you were done before quickly running off set to rejoin your colleagues.

As the shoot began, you couldn’t take your eyes off Jungwon. He posed elegantly, the lighting showing off his perfect features. He had a deep, mysterious stare in each pose.

When the group photos were done, they began the solo shots, starting with Niki and going up. When it was Jungwon’s turn you wanted to stay and watch, but you were called to do something. When you finished you decided to go and wait by the store room for Jungwon to finish.

Jungwon finished his solo shoot and looked around, frowning when he couldn’t see your face. He then remembered what you told him and went to the meet up point.

“Hello…” he called. The corridor looked dim and scary, maybe y/n is pranking him.

Suddenly he felt someone grab his wrist and pull him into a corner. Before Jungwon could process, he was up against a wall, inches away from you.

“Did I scare you baby?” you chuckled, hands resting on his shoulders.

“Couldn’t you have picked a less haunted-looking area?”

“The more abandoned the better, right?” Jungown looked at you in confusion and you chuckled at his innocence.

“You looked so good in that photoshoot,” you whispered, hands leaving his shoulders and running down his torso. “So so good that I almost lost control over myself.”

Jungwon’s breath hitched when you reached his lower abdomen.

“Really?” He said but his voice came out as more of a squeak.

You hummed in response and decided to hover your hand lightly over his bulge. He whined quietly at the lack of proper contact, grabbing hold of your wrist and pressing your hand down over the bulge. It made you scoff.

“I’m being quite honest here, so… Wonnie, tell me why you couldn’t take your eyes off me either today,”

You snatched your hand away from his crotch area and waited for a response. Jungwon looked at you as he fought the urge to beg for your touch.

“You look pretty today too…” Jungwon mumbled.

“Is that all?”

“And… and I hate seeing you work on the other members,” he admitted with a pout.

“Ah so that’s why you were shooting daggers at Jake today,” You said with a laugh.

“It’s not funny,” He muttered.

“Well I think it’s cute. You want me to be only yours right?” You asked, placing your hand over his bulge again but this time in a more harsh manner. As you palmed him, you watched his expression change. “Answer me baby.”

“O-Only mine…” Jungwon moaned.

You leant forward and kissed him, the exchange being needy and sloppy. The sounds coming from Jungwon became more and more lewd as he stopped trying to keep quiet. He was lost in the pleasure he felt from simply grinding against your hand. He attempted to frantically undo the zipper of his pants but you smacked his hand away.

“Y/n please,” He muttered between high-pitched breaths. “I’m close.”

“So do it then,” you whispered against his neck, continuing to kiss and suck on the sensitive skin, but being careful not to leave any marks. That was for later.

“I-I can’t,” he whined, his legs beginning to tremble as he tried hard to control himself.

“Why not?”

“These c-clothes aren’t m-mine, they’re for the photoshoot!” he exclaimed. “Y/n please let me take them off first.”

“What’s the point?” You replied, sounding amused, making Jungwon look at you. “They’re already stained.”

Jungwon looked down as you removed your hand for a second to reveal a small wet patch from the precum. His eyes widened and cheeks flushed from embarrassment. “B-but these are-”

“Shhh… let it all out baby,” You whispered, teeth grazing against his earlobe. “Cum for me.”

“Y/n…” he moaned, grinding his lower half on your hand again and again.

“Clothes can be cleaned Wonnie, but you don’t want to go home without finishing, do you?” you teased. “I can stop now if you like… if you don’t want to ruin the clothes even more… but will you really be ok? I don’t think my baby boy could handle the rest of the photoshoot or the ride home.”

With each sentence your touch created more pleasure for Jungwon, teasing the outline of his dick and allowing the friction caused by the fabric to send him into overdrive.

“Go on Wonnie… you can do it,” you encouraged.

Jungwon pushed your hand away, grabbing your waist and grinding his body against yours desperately. Normally you might get angry if he was to act on his own accord, but his needy sounds were music to your ears.

It wasn’t long before Jungwon released into his pants and his body trembled. He rested his head on your shoulder as he came down from the high.

When you both pulled away from each other, Jungwon looked down at the now much larger patch on his pants.

“What am I going to tell the stylists?” He complained, making you smile at his expense.

“That you’re a whore who got off from dry humping,” You chuckled, placing a finger on the outline of his tip. It sent shivers down Jungwon’s spine.

“Please no more,” he begged. “This is mortifying enough.”

“You forget that I’m on the styling team, I’ll take care of it so stop worrying,” you said, giving him a kiss on the forehead.

When the two of you went back to the dressing room, you were lucky that no-one was there. You got Jungwon a fresh outfit and then fixed his make-up before sending him on his way.

Rather than going back to the set, you headed to the closet room where all the different outfits and makeup equipment were. As you tidied Jungwon’s ruined clothes away in the laundry box and busied yourself with other things, your colleagues returned to the room.

“They don’t even need our help to look good, we hardly need to fix them up on sets like these,” one of them said as they entered the room.

“Hey, y/n where did you run off to?”

“Stomach ache, thought it was best to get a break in before we start cleaning up and like you said, we’re not really needed on these types of shoots,” you said with a smile.

“What happened here?” Someone said, looking inside the laundry box. She picked up the folded pants and looked at the stain, eyes widening. “H-how…”

Since they were beginning to wrap up the shoot, Jungwon wanted to wait for you so that you could travel back together. As he was approaching the door to the stylists’ room, he stopped in his tracks when he heard the conversation.

“Didn’t Jungwon wear this outfit?” another said, and he instantly knew what they were talking about, so he stayed to listen. “Y/n didn’t you see him putting this in the laundry box?”

“It was already there when I came in,” you shrug. Since his cover was blown, you thought you should at least make sure they didn’t find out that you were the one that made it happen. Since you were facing the door, you noticed feet shuffling in an attempt to stay hidden, knowing immediately that it was Jungwon.

“We were supposed to reuse this outfit! How could he be so dirty?”

“It’s not a big deal, we can dry-clean it,” you replied.

“He could have at least waited… so filthy,” she said with a disappointed tone as she placed it back in the box.

“Hey it’s not that easy,” one of your male colleagues spoke up.

While they began arguing about ‘decency’, you took that as your cue to leave, grabbing your bag and jacket and slipping out of the door.

“You said you’d take care of it!” Jungwon complained as you two walked out of the now emptier building.

“I did try to hide it, but they found the clothes. That’s not my fault,” You shrugged, entering your car.

Jungwon sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed and a pout on his lips. Before you could start the car, you glanced at him, scanning his figure.

“Does it really bother you?” you asked. Jungwon didn’t respond. “Or did it turn you on?” You questioned, leaning across to grab his seatbelt for him. You made your movements slow on purpose, relishing his panic and the pink flush on his cheeks.

You pressed the seatbelt in and laughed. “It did turn you on, didn’t it!” you exclaimed.

“No!”

“Then what’s happening down there,” you argued, pointing at the hardening bulge. Jungwon’s hands flew to cover it up but his attempt was futile.

“You liked hearing them call you dirty… filthy…” you said, playing with the buckle on his belt.

“Maybe… I l-liked it,” Jungwon admitted.

“Should we continue this at my place?” you asked, to which he nodded feverishly.

⊱•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱

_ note

First time writing like this, but I had fun so let me know how it was :)

#cina🌙#enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #sub enhypen #enhypen x reader #sub jungwon #jungwon #jungwon hard hours #jungwon hard thoughts #jungwon smut #jungwon x reader

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ncttytrack · 1 year ago

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enhypen and their favorite parts of your body and theirs and why

Ooo 🤭🥴 thank you for the request anon!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

ꕤ Heeseungs favorite part of you body is definitely your waist. When fucking you he likes to be in control, making sure you are kept in your place underneath him - unable to get yourself on top. That’s why he loves to grab your waist, stabilizing himself when fucking you. Sometimes he can get a little bit carried away, and grabs your waist so hard that it leaves bruises afterwards - that you have to cover if you want to wear a crop top. I actually think he enjoys seeing the bruises tho, getting hard thinking about how roughly he fucked into you.

His favorite part of his own body is his cock. I just know Heeseung has a big dick, and him being able to see the bulge in your stomach while fucking you, gets him so horny. The ego boost he would get from your screams trying to take all of him would completely send him over the edge, pushing himself into you even further.

ꕤ Jays favorite part of your body are your boobs. He loves everything about them. During sex, he loves to squeeze your tits, holding them while fucking you from behind, playing with your nipples till they’re sore - yeah, everything! Oh and he loves to fuck your tits. He loves the way your tits wrap around his cock perfectly, fucking them until his cum smears all over your breasts. He would even lick his own cum of your tits because he loves them so much.

His favorite part of his own body is his abs, more because he loves how much you love them. He always walks around your shared apartment shirtless, sending you winks when he caught you staring. Would definitely let you rub you pussy against his abs, placing his hands on your waist to help you, spreading your cum all over his hard stomach.

ꕤ Jake can’t get enough of your ass, and not only during sex. Sure, he loves slapping it - leaving red marks all over your ass. He loves the way it bounce back on his cock during doggy, and would maybe even consider fucking your tight little hole, if you let him. And if you did he would be so happy, getting hard once more when seeing his cum leak out from your hole. Would totally eat your ass if you begged him to. But he also loves grabbing and massaging it when not having sex, even in public. It’s Jakes way to show everyone else that you are his.

His favorite part of his own body is definitely his hands. The first time he started gaining confidence in his hands was when he caught you staring at them, which led to you begging him to finger you. Seeing the way you came all over his fingers, insisting to suck them afterwards, looking up into his eyes, made him almost cum in his pants.

ꕤ Sunghoons favorite part of your body is you neck. He loves to choke you, feeling powerful when his entire hand fits around your neck. Be also loves sucking on it, biting on it, until it almost bleeds, making it impossible for you to wear anything but turtlenecks around the others. But he also loves when you wear shirts that expose your neck. Your neck without bruises is like a naked canvas for Sunghoon, just waiting for it to become marked up.

His favorite part about his body is his arms. He knows how strong he is, and therefore can pretty much throw you around the bedroom without you being able to do anything about it. He also loves wrapping his arm around your waist when fucking you from behind - being able to bury his cock extra deep inside of your pussy using his strength.

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heejake-hoon · 9 months ago

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Enhypen hyung line and cockwarming (mdni)

A.N: this ended up longer than i intended sorry TT. Also i don't like the way this turned out but anyways, enjoy 🧡🧡 also this is not proofread.

Heeseung:

You kneel on the plush carpet between Heeseung's spread thighs, breath already coming in shallow pants in anticipation. His big screen is illuminating his handsome features in a soft blue glow as he fiddles with his controller, getting set up for an intense gaming session.

With a subtle raise of his hips, Heeseung silently signals you to take your position - the only warmth and comfort he'll need during his digital battles. Eagerly leaning in, you mouth along the impressive bulge tenting his thin shorts, nuzzling against the thick, heated outline of his half-hard cock through the soft fabric.

"There's my good little cockwarmer," he rumbles in approval, large hand instinctively drifting down to caress the back of your head as you lap hot kitten licks up his rapidly stiffening shaft. The heavy, intoxicating scent of Heeseung's virile musk surrounds you in a thick, arousing fog.

With deft motions, you slip his shorts out of the way just enough to free his growing erection, the thick, veiny length springing out to slap heavily against his chiseled abdomen. An involuntary mewl of desperation escapes as you drink in the magnificent sight - plush lips parting in greedy anticipation.

"Easy there, pet," Heeseung chuckles, amused arousal glinting in his dark gaze as he hooks a thumb into the corner of your willing mouth to pull it wider. "You're doing such a good job slobbering all over my cock already."

Whining around the thick digit stretching your lips open, you lean in to engulf the swollen, spongy head between your slickened lips as Heeseung's attention has already returned to the game. His cock throbs heavily on your greedy tongue, the rich flavor of his pre-cum already beading on the tapered tip.

You slurp it up hungrily as your head begins to bob in a well-practiced rhythm, contentedly working your hand in concert with your mouth to slather every impressive inch in saliva. This is one of your favorite duties - to take good care of Heeseung's magnificent cock while stoking his arousal on low-simmer as he focuses on other matters.

Once he's sheathed to the hilt in the tight, wet heat of your willing throat, you simply hold there and let his impressive girth rest heavily on your dexterous tongue. Your senses narrow to the steady pulse of his fat cock in your mouth, the rise and fall of his clenched abdominals as he breathes through a particularly intense gaming sequence.

When his character pulls off a flawless, multi-kill combo, Heeseung growls out a gruff "Fuck yeah!" and impulsively ruts his hips upward to stuff the rigid column down your convulsing throat. You gag harshly, drool sputtering around the seal of your lips as you forcibly repress your gag reflex.

"Good girl," he pants raggedly, eyes still locked on the bright screen even as he starts to brutally face-fuck you - thick, slurping thrusts of cock pumping against the back of your mouth. "Get nice and ready for my fat load while I kick some ass..."

The intensity of Heeseung's thrusts steadily builds as he gets more and more worked up over his game, each successful kill or close shave fueling the savage jolts of his hips. Your eyes are rolling back helplessly, saliva pooling around his pistoning shaft to drool obscenely down your chin. All you can do is cling to his powerful thighs and desperately breathe through your nose whenever he pulls back enough to allow a sliver of air.

"Fuck yes, taking my cock like a perfect little cumdump," he growls without looking down, the wet squelches of rigid meat slamming against your gasping lips adding to the cacophony. Every nerve is set alight from the brutal overstimulation, your own slick drenching your thighs with each punishing face-fuck.

When a massive combo culminates in victory, Heeseung roars out his excitement and tightens his grip on your scalp, utterly taking control. He hammers into your mouth with wild, punishing abandon, the heavy impact of his full sac pounding your chin making your eyes water.

"Open up wide and get ready, whore," he snarls, right on the cusp of climax. "I'm gonna make sure you're overflowing with my thick seed all the way down your sloppy gullet..."

With a hoarse shout, Heeseung's hips seize as he holds you impaled fully on his cock. You feel the first hot, syrupy blast of cum erupting directly into your abused throat - thick, potent ropes continuing to pulse out in an endless, stifling deluge. He doesn't pull out until his softening cock stops twitching, leaving your entire mouth, throat and chin caked with his pearly spend.

Jay:

You settled obediently between Jay's muscular thighs under his desk, already feeling a rush of arousal as his musky male scent surrounded you. His thick cock hung heavily from the open vee of his suit pants, the flushed head glistening with a bead of precum.

Licking your lips, you leaned in and dragged the flat of your tongue along the underside of his shaft in one long, torturous lick from root to tip. Jay sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers stilling on the keyboard briefly. Encouraged, you swirled your tongue around the swollen crown, teasing the slit until more of the salty fluid leaked out.

"Fuck..." Jay breathed out a groan as you lathed the engorged head with kitten licks. "Been thinking about this sweet mouth all day, baby."

You hummed in delight and finally parted your lips, taking the bulbous tip into your wet heat. Inch by delicious inch, you sank down on his throbbing length until the coarse hair at the base tickled your nose and his impressive girth stretched your lips obscenely wide.

Keeping your movements tantalizingly slow, you massaged the underside with the strong muscles of your tongue as you pulled back up to suckle at the sensitive crown. Jay cursed again, one large hand dropping to fist in your hair as you set an agonizing rhythm.

"That's it, sweetheart... Gonna keep my cock nice and warmed up down that greedy little throat," he growled, the gravelly timbre of his voice sending a shiver of need through you.

You whimpered around his thick shaft, your core clenching needily. Drool quickly escaped the corners of your stretched lips, but you were too far gone to care about being messy. All that mattered was pleasuring your lover and feeling his heavy cock sliding between your lips.

Jay's grip tightened in your hair as his hips began rolling slowly in time with your bobs, his tip nudging the back of your throat with each shallow thrust. Determined to take him deeper, you focused on relaxing your mind and muscles, allowing him to ease further into your convulsing channel.

"Oh fuck... Gonna lose my mind feeling you swallow around me like that," he groaned, his free hand still typing intermittently.

Salty precum flooded your senses as his cock throbbed and jumped on your tongue. You moaned around the girthy stretch, the vibrations making Jay shudder and bottom out in your spasming throat.

Emboldened, you fondled and massaged his heavy sac, reveling in his ragged curses and the tight grip in your hair. His movements grew more erratic, his breathing harsh,

until finally Jay pushed his chair back from the desk. You pulled off his spit-slicked cock with a messy slurp, looking up at him with lust-blown eyes and swollen lips.

"Up here. Now," he growled, voice rough with need as his intense gaze roamed over your disheveled state.

You scrambled eagerly into his lap, grinding your dripping core against the rigid length trapped between your bodies. Jay captured your lips in a searing kiss, his clever tongue plundering your mouth as he yanked impatiently at your clothes.

Soon you were naked from the waist down, skirt shoved up around your waist as Jay's thick cockhead nudged insistently at your sodden entrance. You whimpered into the filthy kiss, shamelessly chasing friction by circling your hips.

"You want this big cock filling you up?" Jay rasped against your lips, calloused fingers sinking into the soft flesh of your ass to grind the weeping tip through your slick folds.

"Please, please..." you babbled shamelessly, rolling your hips to take him deeper with each teasing pass.

Chuckling darkly at your wanton Display, Jay shifted his grip and hauled you down in one smooth thrust, impaling you completely on his impressive length. You threw your head back with a broken cry, feeling so deliciously full and stretched around his thick shaft.

He gave you no time to adjust before setting a punishing pace, his rigid cock sawing in and out of your fluttering, cream-soaked channel. The lewd noises of skin slapping against skin and your high-pitched mewls of pleasure filled the room as he used you for his gratification.

Overwhelming sensations blazed along every nerve. Your nails scored desperate lines down Jay's back, his harsh grunts and the drag of his cock against your over-sensitized inner walls driving you swiftly toward delirium.

"That's it, sweetheart, gonna fill up this greedy little cunt," Jay snarled, his hips pistoning with relentless force. "Take my load like a good girl."

Jake:

Jake let out a frustrated groan as he stared down at the textbook open in front of him on the desk. He'd been trying to focus on his college homework for what felt like hours, but his mind kept wandering. Until you crawled into his lap and slowly impaled yourself on his thick length.

"Fuck..." he hissed out between clenched teeth as your scorching heat enveloped him in one agonizing descent. "Supposed to help me concentrate, not drive me crazy, babygirl."

You shuddered at the harsh rasp of his voice against your ear, already feeling his heavy cock start to swell and harden further within your fluttering walls. Per your agreement, you stilled completely, your slick internal muscles gently massaging his throbbing length.

Jake tried valiantly to turn his attention back to the books and papers strewn in front of him, but the obscene stretch and smoldering heat gripping his dick made it impossible to focus. He hadn't realized just how deliciously torturous this idea would be.

His cock twitched forcefully inside you as rivulets of arousal trickled down your trembling thighs, soaking the material of his sweats where your pelvis met his. He bit out a muffled curse, fists clenching on the desktop.

"So fucking tight..." Jake ground out, hips flexing with the slightest abortive thrust before he caught himself, teeth gritted.

You couldn't bite back the whimper at the electrifying burst of sensation, already feeling drunk on the heavy stretch and throbbing heat spearing you open. Your pussy clenched greedily around his solid invasion, fluttering and muscles rippling in a desperate milking motion.

Jake dropped his head against the back of the chair with a broken groan, muscles tense and cords of tendons straining in his neck as he fought to remain still. Every flex and convulsive grip of your inner walls had his toes curling, so close to losing control.

One large hand dropped between your parted thighs to stroke through the copious arousal coating your folds and trailing down his taint in lewd rivulets. He gathered the musky essence, coating his fingers before bringing them to swirl around your swollen clit.

The electric jolt caused you to clench harshly around his throbbing cock, frantic choked whimpers spilling from your lips. That only encouraged Jake, fingertips working tight, frenzied circles against the throbbing bundle of nerves.

You were reduced to a mewling wreck of sensation, body practically vibrating with pent-up need as Jake ruthlessly stroked you higher while locking himself in an iron rigid line of restraint behind you.

"Fuck, fuck, you feel so goddamn good," he growled against the sweaty curve of your neck, the words ragged torture. "Need to move so fucking bad..."

White-hot pleasure licked down your limbs, muscles growing taut as a bowstring as you barrelled toward the precipice. Jake captured your desperate cries on his tongue, one hand still stroking your clit as the other fisted in your hair to angle your mouth for a soul-scorching kiss.

The whiplash of ecstasy ricocheted between your joined bodies in an endless feedback loop of pure hedonistic bliss until the swirling vortex of rapture finally broke, crashing over you both in shattering waves.

Your pussy clamped down like a vise, convulsing and gushing around his iron length as Jake's restraint snapped utterly in your climax. A broken roar tore from his chest as he finally unleashed himself, jackknifing his hips to drive his cock in hard, pounding strokes through your fluttering, spasming core.

Jake painted your milking walls with his scorching seed, his cock throbbing and jerking with each thick pulse. Neither of you slowed or softened your delirious thrashing until his balls were drained and your honey was smeared in obscene streaks across the bulging cords of his flexing abdomen.

It felt like an eternity before you finally collapsed, boneless and quivering against Jake's heaving chest. The hoarse groan that escaped him was utterly satisfied as his softening length slipped free with a lush gush of combined release.

"No fucking way I can focus on homework after that," he rasped, voice gravelly with spent lust.

Sunghoon:

The thick bulge in Sunghoon's pants was already straining against the material as he slid into the driver's seat of his car. With a heated look, he crooked his finger at you. "Get that sweet ass over here, baby."

You hurried to obey, eagerly climbing into his lap and nuzzling into the crook of his neck. Sunghoon's big hands were rough as they gripped your hips, yanking you firmly against the rigid line of his trapped cock.

"Need to be inside this greedy little hole..." he growled, biting sharply at the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

You whimpered at the delicious sting, grinding shamelessly against the promise of his thick length as he hurriedly unfastened both your pants. With your leggings pushed down to your thighs, Sunghoon's cock sprang free - flushed, veiny and leaking at the tip.

Licking your lips, you reached between your bodies to grasp the velvety steel of his shaft. Sunghoon hissed as you smeared the pearling bead of precum from his slit and used it to slick the way.

You both moaned in unison as you slowly sank down on his rigid heat, his thickness stretching you so deliciously wide. Once fully sheathed, his cock pulsed and throbbed deep inside your clenching channel.

"Fuck, you're so goddamn tight," Sunghoon bit out, flexing his hips to work his cock deeper.

Crying out at the intense stimulation, you clenched around the thick, sensitive head as he started the car. The heavy throb of the engine only enhanced the shockwaves of pleasure sparking through your core with every lurch of the vehicle.

Bracing his hands on your waist, Sunghoon effortlessly held you impaled as he navigated the streets. He grunted every time you clenched around him, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave marks.

The obscene stretch and slide of his cock in your aching pussy made your thighs tremble. You couldn't help but squirm and rock in his lap, desperately chasing more delicious friction while he drove.

"Keep that greedy cunt still," Sunghoon growled in warning, one hand leaving your hip to lash across your ass. The sharp smack of flesh on flesh made you jolt and whimper. "Or you're gonna get this dick jackhammering into you at every red light."

Despite his threat, his chest was heaving with ragged breaths, giving away how turned on he was at feeling you clench convulsively around his embedded length. Still, you forced yourself to stillness, mewling pitifully as torturous tingles sparked along your over-sensitized nerves.

Finally, Sunghoon slammed on the brakes at a red light, the rough jolt making you cry out in blissful torment. His grip on your hips wasbruising as he hauled you up until just the thick tip remained stretching your entrance.

Time seemed to still as you whined and thrashed, hole clenching greedily around his crown, desperate for more of his thick cock splitting you open. You stared into Sunghoon's lust-darkened eyes, feeling delirious and wanton.

"You want it?" he rasped, the single worded question somehow filthier than any elaborate dirty talk. You could only nod frantically.

Then he slammed you back down, burying his entire punishing length in one brutal stroke as you screamed in euphoria. Any sense of rhythm or restraint shattered in the wake of his pounding thrusts and hoarse grunts of exertion.

His cock plunged wildly in and out of your spasming, cream-slicked channel, using your body shamelessly for his own release. The lewd sounds of harsh skin slapping mixed with strangled moans and muffled curses filled the car.

Every intrusion of his thick cock battered against your over-stimulated inner walls, dragging agonizing shrieks of pleasure from your raw throat. You lost yourself to delirium, body seized and convulsing without control.

Sunghoon didn't let up, relentlessly hammering his rigid length through your shuddering inner-vice. With a guttural roar, his pace turned frantic and hips stuttered erratically. Scorching ropes of his release flooded and stretched your pummeled hole, his cock jerking with each obscene pulse.

The burning heat of his seed seemed to sear along your sensitized nerves, triggering your own devastating climax. Every muscle locked as you shattered apart with a wail, cunt spasming wildly to milk every last drop from Sunghoon's cock.

Eyes glassy with residual bliss, you can barely move when he effortlessly hauls you up until just the swollen tip of his cock is caught in your fluttering entrance. But then the light turns red once more.

Sunghoon doesn't say a word, just brutally sheathes his entire length inside you again with one punishing thrust. The scream rips from your raw throat unbidden as he pulls almost all the way out and slams home again.

And again. And again - brutal and relentless.

You flail and claw at his shoulders, deliriously overstimulated, but he just pins your wrists against the steering wheel with one iron grip. His free hand at your hip is merciless, controlling the angle and force as he pile-drives his cock into your helplessly convulsing cunt.

The slick sounds of his pistoning thrusts are obscenely loud with each rapid stroke through your mess of mingled juices. The entire car shakes and rocks from the force of his assault as he ruins your battered hole on his thick cock.

Tears stream from your eyes from the overwhelming stimulation. Your voice gives out into hoarse whimpers punctuated by the lewd squelching between your bodies.

You can do nothing but take the ruthless reaming, gasping like a landed fish each time his hips slam home and jackhammer his dick fully into your spasming depths. Each inward stroke seems to punch deeper - stretching, battering, ruining.

Just when you're certain you can't handle another second of his savage possession, just when wavering darkness invades the corners of your vision...

The light turns green.

Sunghoon instantly drags you fully down onto his cock again, grinding deep as you sob around the thick pulse and throb of his length locked inside you. He lets out a rumbling growl of satisfaction at your pitiful whimpers.

"Hold it in, sweetheart," he rasps into the sweaty curve of your neck. "Not a drop can spill from that pretty, ruined cunt."

You choke back a wail as he uses his grip on your wrists to make you grind in tiny circles on the base of his cock. The torturous movement has it dragging and shifting through your swollen, abused walls, smearing his seed deeper.

Every muscle shivers and clenches, desperately trying to obey his filthy command. You're his cockwarming fleshlight, forced immobile and impaled while he resumes driving.

At the first roll of the next red light, he rewards you by unleashing another round of brutal, short thrusts, wrenching hoarse cries from you over and over as his cock batters home. He repeats this vicious pattern, timing each ruthless, punishing series of thrusts to the red lights.

You soon lose all sense of time and space, reality reduced to nothing but the endless cycle of Sunghoon's cock ravaging through your ruined hole, only to have you brought back to torturous stillness on its thick depth.

You drool and sob helplessly, enduring the obscene torment as he uses your body without mercy. All the while, his cum slowly seeps from your gaping, convulsing entrance to dampen his pants and seat beneath you...

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chlorinecake · 7 months ago

Text

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ִ ۫ 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 | 𝐋.𝐌𝐇

⭑ PAIRING: fuck buddy ! cat dad ! minho x f. reader

𖥻 SYNOPSIS: A broken air conditioner in your best friend's apartment leads to him having to shack up with you until things get sorted, but considering his sex drive, it doesn't take long for things to get steamy in a different way...

⭑ WARNINGS: KINKTOBER SPECIAL, swearing, temperature play kink, kissing, dry humping, masturbation (f. receiving), minho gets a bit jealous at one part, mentions of food, mentions of enhypen's jake, crying (barely), finger + tit + neck sucking (f. receiving), not proofread

𖥻 WORD COUNT: 5.2k - DAY 5

⭑ AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic was originally intended to be a gift for @minhosimthings 's 21st birthday, but since I was such an amazing moot and didn't finish writing it in time, I simply decided to save it for now hehe ^^

OCTOBER.

Not usually the warmest month of the year, but it had become precisely that for your close friend Minho when his apartment AC suddenly gave out, leaving him to sleep with nothing but his boxers on almost every night—

“Proof?” You asked via text while ending your three-hour long conversation with him one night.

Ding!

A picture of Lino and his sweat-glazed body took over your phone screen, his toned thighs just barely hanging off his gingham-dressed bed set with a spare pillow being placed precariously in the place where you're certain his bulge would be.

“Since you were so desperate to get a first-hand glimpse of my suffering… hope you're satisfied now,” his text read below the photo, and you smiled at the message, not even bothering to scold yourself for blushing…

“Trust me, this did the trick... can't wait to get you outta that hell hole and in some proper air conditioning, though...”

“Looking forward to it,” Lino texted back with a pink heart emoji, “goodnight now, kitty.”

“Night night!” You returned, feeling your cheeks warm up at the pet-name he used for you, and you used to hate smiling at your phone whenever you got a flirty message from someone, but when it came to Minho, you didn’t mind the butterflies as much…

You laid your head on your pillow, facing the ceiling as a gentle sigh fell from your lips, and the selfie that Lino sent you meddled in the back of your mind, causing your imagination to do wonders in making the photo come alive...

Despite being best friends who admittedly had sex with each other from time to time, Minho, had been the subject of your sexual fantasies for a while now, and you honestly couldn’t blame yourself for it…

I mean, let’s be real, he's got that dark and handsome thing going on with a platinum smile to match.

And let's not forget about his muscular build, too, which is the result of hours spent either dancing or hitting up the gym every week.

You’ve always had a thing for him, and you vividly remember the first night you two crossed the line between strictly friends and something a little more than that.

It was the night right after he got fired from his job, and while upon stopping by your place to cool off some steam, the both of you were two drinks passed tipsy as the sexual tension ran rampant between you.

Y’all were cooking dinner together, and you couldn't help but steal glances at him as he chopped vegetables and sautéed meat...

The way his toned muscles rippled under his T-shirt as he navigated the kitchen was too much for you to handle that night... you remember feeling your panties grow damp in that moment, just like they were now as you imagined him pinning you against the kitchen counter and fucking you completely senseless.

Sliding your hands beneath your covers, you found the hem of your pajama pants while imagining Lino was right before you, telling you to undress for him.

And although your eyes were closed, you could see the whole memory as clear as day, playing each moment over slowly in your mind as if watching a clip from your favorite movie…

You thought about how you put the spoon down that you used to stir the pasta before walking over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist while sighing at the contact.

Envisioning the way he looked back at you with a mixture of pleasant surprise and desire staining his gorgeous features, you remember feeling his hard cock press against your front.

And back then, it startled you at first… the fact that he had gotten so turned on just from being around you—

“Minho,” you remember whispering to him, and you did the same thing now as you laid on your mattress with a heavy heart, your fingers slowly gliding over your bare cunt in the same way that his fingers touched you before.

In your memory, he only responded by grabbing your waist and kissing you deeply, all before lifting you up onto the counter and spreading your legs apart so he could get between them.

He leaned in close, his breath warm yet shiver-inducing against your face as he whispered back, “I want you so bad, ____…”

He trailed kisses down your neck, making his way to your cleavage where he toyed with your nipple slightly, and you let one of your hands grope your tits to mimic the way he touched you then.

Arching your back against the mattress, you recall moaning faintly as he sucked and bit at your sensitive skin, his skilled hands roaming your body beneath the thin fabric of your shirt.

You reached down for the button on his jeans and undid it before pulling down his zipper to free his aching cock, and you remember stroking it gently as you felt it twitch in your hand.

Lino groaned at your touch, and it wasn’t long before he grabbed you by the hips and pulled you to the edge of the counter, positioning himself at your entrance while teasing your clit with the tip of his cock.

You whimpered, both back then and presently while laying in bed, and you begged him to fuck you as if he was actually there with you.

Using your index and middle finger, you jammed them inside your cunt, crying out in pleasure while imagining your pathetic digits were your best friend’s fat cock thrusting inside you.

You remember being fucked rough and fast by him as his balls slapped against your ass with every snap of his hips, and you could feel yourself growing closer and closer to orgasming.

“M-Minho, I’m gonna cum,” you gasped, feeling your walls clench around your fingers as you kept fingering yourself to the memory of him making you love to you, and you eventually did just that…

Your climax ripped through your body like a freight train, and you imagined Minho’s orgasm following yours soon after, filling you up with his hot release.

Panting out loud, you slipped your fingers from your cunt, only opening your eyes slightly now as you melted back into reality, wishing that Minho could be right beside you now like he was back then…

You thought about the way he looked at you with a satisfied smile before pulling you into a tight embrace.

“I love you, ____,” his voice responded in the back of your mind as a gentle whisper, and you felt yourself becoming sleepy as you turned to lay on your side, still shaken up from climaxing so fast…

“I love you too, Minho,” you whispered to yourself as if he could hear it, smiling with closed eyes as you finally fell fast asleep, just mere hours from facing the morning ahead of you…

THE NEXT MORNING came by faster than you expected as a now fully clothed and much less sweaty Minho stood at your doorstep, a dainty porcelain dish resting in the grasp of his veiny hands.

You had invited him over to stay over at your place until the broken AC situation at his place got sorted out, and you were more than ready to spend the next few days with him under the same roof as you…

“I come bearing treats,” he chirped with a smile as you welcomed him in with a friendly hand.

He was wearing a dark turtleneck sweater and dark pants to match with an auburn, plaid trench coat to top of his gold accessories.

“Oh, Minho,” you began while taking the tray from him, a certain smell having distracted your train of thought, “you didn't have to go out of your way and… wait… is there espresso in this?”

“Mhm,” your friend nodded proudly while kicking off his shoes before making his way to your all-too-familiar kitchen where he opened the fridge door for you, “with mascarpone creammm, lady fingersss, cocoa powderrrr—”

“You made me tiramisu?” You asked with widened eyes, making him chuckle a bit at your shocked reaction.

“As a symbol of my appreciation since you opened your home up to me, of course,” Lino smiled before leaning against the kitchen counter, and you couldn’t help yourself from giving him a hug in this moment.

At first, his body tensed up at the way your hands felt upon wrapping around him so suddenly, but he eventually relaxed as you lazily spoke the words, “You feel like a human oven right now…”

“And you feel like a freezer,” Minho returned while chuckling, just as you broke from the hug.

“Yea... I guess that happens sometimes when your air conditioner isn't busted…” you shrugged sarcastically, and Minho gives you a painfully forced laugh before following your trail back to the living room—

“Where're your cats?” You inquire, noticing that he had brought all of their play and food gear, but the pets themselves were no where in sight.

“Oh, they're waiting for me in the car, actually,” he said, walking past you to put his shoes back on at the front door.

“So your precious little felines are too good for a local pet-sitter now?” You tease, feeling your heart warm up at the sound of him snickering at your comment.

“Not just that,” he began, “my little kitties are angel's indeed, but I'm not ignorant to the fact that they can be a handful... even for me...”

You let his words sink in, taking a mental note of what he said.

“Want me to help you gather them from your car then?” You offer, meeting him where he stood at the door now.

“Please,” Minho scoffed, side-eyeing you with a small smirk, “you doubt that I can handle my own three baby's or something? I mean... c'mon, have you seen my arms lately?”

“No, actually... just your thighs,” you said while tilting your head at him, clearly checking him out, and the look he gives you would’ve otherwise knocked you clean off your feet if he was any closer to you—

Beep beep.

The sound of Minho’s car blared in the distance as you pressed to “UNLOCK” bottom on his keys upon the two of you making your way outside together.

Single-handedly, Minho opens the door for himself, and you watch with a shy smile as he scoops his cats up in his arms, their dainty paws tugging and scratching at his jacket almost immediately.

“So much for making me feel loved and cherished, you guys...” Minho says jokingly as of his cats can understand his words, and you help by opening the door for him to come back inside when you get a notification from your phone.

The sound catches Minho’s attention immediately, but you’re not aware of the dinging until you hear it again… and again, til you hear it a total of five times.

“Looks like someone’s popular today,” your friend says from behind you while setting his cats down to roam the house freely.

“Eh, it’s probably just my boss,” you return while walking over to your desk to see who the message is from, “I have a meeting later today, and he’s probably just wondering if I’m still up for it…”

Her boss?… Sending her more than three messages in a row?… Minho thought to himself in the back of his mind, and his ears are quick to notice how quiet you get suddenly.

He waits for you to say something… anything at all, but you remain silent, a focused expression taking over your face now as your thumbs tap your phone screen like crazy.

Ding.

Another message comes through, and Minho can’t ignore the curiosity brewing inside him anymore.

“Who’re you texting?”

“A friend… good thing it wasn’t my boss…”

“What friend?” He asks again, and he’s trying to hide the irritation in his voice as you fail to look him in the eyes while speaking to him.

“Just Jake…”

“Jake?” Minho repeated, almost sounding disgusted that you had even said such a thing, “you mean that… that dog guy?”

“If that’s what people are calling him these days, then yes, that dog guy,” you return plainly, eyes still glued to your phone.

Minho makes sure your front door is locked before walking past you to grab the remote from your desk, clicking the TV on so his cats could watch something while sitting on your couch.

“Whatever,” he scoffed beneath his breath, and you only spare him a quick glance before going right back to texting, “you’re clearly more of a cat person anyways… right?”

“Lino, he was just wishing me good luck at my meeting, alright?”

Yea, the meeting you didn’t even bother telling me about, Minho thought to himself again before your voice interrupted him to say:

“It’s really not that deep…”

“Right… not like I'd expect much depth from Mr. Short-Stuff to begin with—”

“Bro, knock it off, will you? You two are literally the same height for crying out loud…”

“Who said I was talking about height?”

You look up from your phone, giving him a deadpan look as you sighed with frustration, “Minho…”

“Alright, alright, I'm knocking it off now, relax…” he said as the sound of a random TV show filled h the w background now, and he internally rolled his eyes at the way you were acting with him now.

“Thank you…” you replied half-heartedly before setting your phone down on your desk finally, “and enough about Jake for the rest of the time you’re here, please… he's not a concern to you…”

“Yea, of course,” Minho sarcastically agreed as he made his way over to sit on the couch with his cats, “no concerns… no worries… you and I are just friends at the end of the day, too, right?”

“Right… just friends…” you returned, just as the alarm clock on your phone went off this time.

“Shit, I gotta get ready… I’ll be doing my meeting here at my desk, so if you could turn the TV off once I come back, that’d be great, yea?” You asked in a rushed tone, and Minho simply nodded, right before you made your way to your bedroom, closing the door behind you.

Sighing, the poor guy couldn’t help but feel threatened by Jake’s presence in your life… and as hard as it was for Minho to admit, Jake was a good looking guy who had an equally attractive personality to go with it…

“We’re just friends,” Minho said to himself in a mocking tone as his cat Dori crawled into his lap, purring softly for cuddles…

“Yea,” he continued to say out loud, feeling the stress in his hands barely ease away as he massaged the top of Dori’s head, “friend’s who fuck each other…”

ABOUT AN HOUR had passed before your meeting was finally all done and over with, and to your favor, everything turned out great!…

Though, you still expected to be glued to your desk for at least another hour or two as your boss had assigned you with a new company proposal to work on.

Your home-printer had just finished spitting out a stack of 25 sheets of paper that you were expected to have proof-read and revised by the next morning.

Yes, you genuinely did love your job… but sometimes, the workload could be a handful, and it wasn’t helping one bit that Lino and his cats were having a play date just a few feet away from you.

Cat toys like fuzzy balls and squeaky fish decorated your floor like a daycare center as the three animals crawled on every surface they could in your home.

Paying Minho a quick look, he was still sitting on the couch, Soonie laying on his chest as he brushed over her fluffy body with his hand, cooing at the sleepy creature…

Seeing Minho behave so lovingly with his pets always touched a soft spot inside you, and that’s when he senses your eyes are on him, turning his head on the couch briefly to return a glance.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” He began, and the cat visibly purred at the feeling of Minho’s deep voice vibrating against her body.

“Very,” you said softly, looking away now as you reached for the nearby stapler, clipping the stack of paper in place, “so beautiful that it’s distracting, in fact…”

“I wasn’t talking to you, silly,” Minho chuckles, making your eyebrows screw into confused squiggles—

“I was asking Soonie about you…” he finishes, looking back at your for a second with a loving look in his eyes, and you try not to smile at his words, only because you know how much he likes teasing you for getting flustered with him…

You loved the way Lino’s presence always had a way of warming you up from the outside-in, and you almost started to feel guilty for giving him such a hard time earlier.

Clink!… Splash…

“Dori, watch out!” You called out suddenly with a loud voice, and Minho turns to see what you’re yelling about.

“That’s Doongie, ____… she’s the orange one, remember?” Minho asked jokingly, but you’re too distressed now to pay his humor any mind.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have bought so many cats so I could recall their goofy names better…” you sighed with a broken voice now, looking at the mess before you that Minho was still oblivious to…

Dori, Doongie, or whatever he name was had leaped onto your desk out of excitement, only to knock over your cup of coffee, causing it to spill all over the documents you just printed…

And yea, it was obviously an accident, but this was the second time today that you ran into an obstacle since Minho arrived, and you couldn’t hold back your anger anymore…

“Heyyy, that’s not nice,” Minho began with a pout, though his voice sounded quiet in your ears as your eyes started to brim with frustrated tears, “my kittie's were very respectful when you first joined the family… even when you always stole their daddy’s attention…”

With a quiet sniffle, you wiped the tears from your eyes as fast as you could before Lino could notice it, sulking to yourself as you thought about how long it’d take to reprint all the papers and go over them with new revisions again…

“You’re right, Lino,” you said in a weak voice, picking up the curious orange cat from your desk as she was only starting to track coffee-paw prints all over your keyboard, “And sorry, Doongie… I shouldn’t have yelled at you...”

Everything was stressing you out, at this point, and it only made you feel worse for being such a miserable host to Minho, especially in his first day over.

“I’ll come back in a bit to clean this up, but I just need to lay down for a minute if that’s okay?” You whispered, and by time Lino could process everything that was happening l, you were already walking off back to your room.

“C-clean up?… ____, come back please,” Minho stood up from the couch, calling after you only to have you shut the door at his words… literally…

A small sigh fell from his lips as he walked over to where you sat, and he’s just now becoming aware of the huge mess of coffee and soggy papers all over your desk.

“Oh, Doongie…” Minho sighed again, looking back at his cat who sat quietly at the very top of the cat tree set, playing with one of the fuzzy toy balls she had carried from the floor, “way to go ruining my romantic moment…”

MINHO TOOK IT upon himself to help and tidy things up while you were regathering yourself in your bedroom.

Sure, he usually didn’t handle household chores much beyond cooking or baking, but he still made it his duty to correct some of the damage he had cost in one way or another.

A pile of dirty dishes in your sink became the centerpiece of your kitchen, coupled with the mini trashcan in the corner being filled to the top with old coffee pods, crumbled up sheets of paper, and takeout containers.

Though, by now he had already replaced the dirty trash bag with a new one, wiped off the coffee splatters from your desk and keyboard, printed a new copy of your work documents, and jotted down all the revisions you made to the best of his ability,

All that was left to do now was tackle the dishes you left behind...

Running some warm and bubbly water for the dishes, Minho slipped on a pair of rubber gloves, grabbed a sponge, and started scrubbing away.

You could faintly hear the clinking of plates from your room which made you run out to see what he was up to.

“Hello again, stranger….” Minho greeted sarcastically, despite the way he smiled at you.

“Hey…” you returned quietly while walking behind him and wrapping your arms at his waist... a gesture you're just now realizing you did a little too frequently to call yourselves just friends...

“You didn’t have to do all this,” you continued, looking beside his frame to watch as he rinsed the bubbles from around the sink, “I should be cleaning my own messes, Minho... you're supposed to be a guest, for Christ's sake…”

“I know,” he says softly, mirroring the tranquility in your tone, “just figured you could use the extra help, though…”

Slipping off the gloves, he hangs them over the sink, before removing your hands from hugging him, “Go in the den real quick, and I'll meet you in there...”

And either being too exhausted to object or simply obedient to his dominance, you do exactly as he says, walking back to the living room and taking a seat on the couch... and you're glad to find that his cats are sleeping in their shared kitty bed, resting soundly together.

Meanwhile, Minho was busy rummaging through your fridge, looking for the dessert tray he had brought earlier. He wanted to cute you a nice square of tiramisu from the dish before heading back to the living room, a single fork clad in his grasp.

You watched him with a raised eyebrow as he approached, placing the plate of tiramisu in your hands. He then settled at the end of the couch across from you, reaching down to grab your ankles and pull your legs toward him.

That was odd, you thought to yourself, very odd...

“So, let's skip the bullshit here and cut straight to the chase,” he began in a low voice, shamelessly letting his fingers trail up your calves before parting your legs open at the knees; “You’ve been trying to avoid me, haven't you?”

You let yourself blink a few times before challenging him in a similarly catty tone, “I don’t know, have you given me a reason to?”

“Of course not… Hell, I even made you this fancy ass dessert from scratch... you should be praising the air I breathe right now...”

“Alright, Gordon Ramsey... give me a second to taste it first and then I’ll decide if you deserve that much…” You replied, taking the fork that he handed to you from his grasp before sticking it into the fluffy treat and bringing it to your mouth.

“Finally... now how's it taste?” He asks, tilting his head at how long you took to swallow such a small bite.

“It's delicious,” you return with a nonchalant voice to egg him on even more, even though deep down you had to fight the urge to take another bite.

It was almost shocking how good it tasted, and his ratio of all the ingredients was worth cultivating an entire culinary study for...

Though, your train of thought was soon interrupted once he leaned in closer to you, resting his flexed hands on the couch armrest you laid your head on, caging you beneath his frame...

“Y'know... you seemed much more pleasant over text the other night, but now... you're cold… what changed?” Minho asked, and you fought the feeling of nerves growing within your stomach, thinking back to how you imagined him on top of you just like this while you fucked yourself dizzy with your fingers...

“Maybe it’s this,” you whispered, tugging at the lower hem of his shirt, as a glint of playfulness flickered in his eyes, “you should know by now how bothered I get when thing's keep getting in the way of my desires...”

“Good, then. I’ll keep it on so you have something to hang onto,” he returned through a smirk, and you scoffed at him, right before taking another bite of the tiramisu.

“Please, just drop the act, ____,” Minho chuckled at your failed attempt at being intimidating, “You’ve practically been eye fucking me this whole time, anyway, so it's no surprise you’ve been so moody all day… you need me to fuck your nerves away, huh?”

“Oh, don't flatter yourself, Minho,” you retort, even though the dirty manner of his words makes you feel a rush inside.

Clink.

You take the fork, digging into the tiramisu once more as you gathered a hefty forkful, right before feeding some to Minho.

Though, a bit of the cream lingers at the corner of his mouth, and you moisten the tip of your thumb with your own spit before swiping at his lips and asking, “You always eat this messy?”

And Minho only responds with the fattest smirk you've seen all day, grabbing your wrist as he took your whole thumb in his mouth, humming around it as he sucked it clean before releasing it with a pop.

“You freaky bastard—”

“Just admit that you miss my touch…” Minho interrupts your insult, his voice laced with seduction as he shimmies all the way between your legs now, pressing his crotch against yours, “you’re doing anything you can to put your hands on me, anyway… so why don't you just take what you want?”

His question meddles in the fog of your mind, and you feel your heart rate start to increase just from having his body pressed so close to yours...

It was different from the times when you'd innocently hug him... it was different from the fantasies you had in the darkness of your room while completely alone... and above all, it was different when you were sober, fully present to experience every emotion bubbling inside you, even the nervous ones.

“Poor baby,” Lino pouts, and his voice pulls you back from your thought, shivering from wishing as he takes the cold, metal fork and runs it along the side of your neck, “you're too shy for your own good...”

His words resound in the back of your mind again, and you're not sure how long they linger there, but before you know it, he has his lips against yours, kissing you deeply as the thought of tiramisu is long gone, the pastry plate sitting on the floor now.

And he's groaning into your mouth, the taste of espresso on his tongue making you chase his lips even more, but only for his hand to keep pushing you down by the chest.

“M-Minho,” you mumble in between kissing him, “could you stop teasing me for one fucking second, please?...”

He lets himself chuckle at your neediness, smiling against your lips now as he whispers, “Sorry, kitty... I just like getting you worked up sometimes...”

And that's when your turn comes around to make him feel flustered as you let one of your hands find the base of his neck, and his breath hitches as you squeeze slightly, watching as the sexiest smirk overtakes his face now.

Leaning back down, Minho kisses you even harder now, and his hips can't help but to grind against you, and even though his movements are gentle at first, you let out a desperate moan that let's him know to keep going.

Both your bodies were heating up like crazy now as Minho's hand slowly crept under the soft cotton of your shirt, caressing the smooth skin of your stomach.

His breath was just as hot against your lips as his tongue danced with yours, making you shiver with anticipation as you both explored and claimed every inch of each other's mouths.

Foul wet sounds were filling the space now as his pelvis kept bumping into yours, rolling against you in fluid waves as if he was doing the sweetest dance of lust with you.

Minho's hands found their way under your shirt again, but this time he reached for the clasp of your bra, unhooking the latch with deft fingers and freeing your aching breasts from the confines.

You whined into his mouth as his hands cupped the weight of your tits, letting his thumbs teasing your nipples to hardness as your hands got equally busy, clinging at his shirt as you fought to get it off of him.

As your palms made contact with his warm flesh, you dug your nails into his back, urging him closer to you as a shaky grunt slipped past his own lips now, glaring at you with darkened eyes as the pain you caused mixed with pleasure.

Breaking from the kiss, Minho left a trail of wet kisses along your jaw before stopping at the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder.

He sucked and nibbled, marking you as his, and your eye rolled to the back of your head at the tantalizing feeling of his rough bulge humping against your clothed cunt.

It wasn't long before you two decided to change positions, though, straddling Minho's lap so that his rock-hard erection was trapped between your two bodies, allowing you to rock your hips at the perfect angle to draw him over the edge.

And you both were cursing under your breath at this point, practically drooling at the sensation of you rubbing your heat against his hardening length through your clothes.

Forcing you down and against his body, Minho captured your mouth in his again, claiming it with urgency as his tongue mimicked the rhythm of your hips.

You felt your arousal start to seep through your panties, and that was likely the last straw Minho needed to let himself go, whining beneath you as your hips bucked against his erratically.

“Oh, fuckkk!” You cried out, feeling your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as Minho, with one final thrust, felt himself cumming in his pants, a warm and sticky stain rising to the surface of his pants now as you cried out each others names, waves of pleasure consuming you both...

Panting and covered in the evidence of your mutual pleasure, you let your spent body collapse against him, hearing his heart race against your head as you laid on his chest.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, a satisfied yet tired smile on his face, “that went by so fast, but it felt so good,” he went on, “so... fucking... good...”

You laughed at his words, feeling how his warm breath tickling the top of your head.

“You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that,” you added, just as one of his hands moved up to stroke your hair slightly...

Snuggling impossibly closer to him, you hear him let out a sigh, one that started in agreement and ended in painful realization...

“I should probably get cleaned up now so you can finish revising that company proposal before the morning comes,” Minho says, but his words make you cling to him even harder, making it obvious to him that you had no intention of leaving him alone again anytime soon...

⋆♱✮ Thank you to everyone who made it to the end of this highly belated birthday fic, which actually concludes DAY 5 of my Kinktober Event !! If you're interested in reading more works like this, feel free to check out my main enhypen masterlist or my kinktober masterlist by clicking one of these links !!

⋆♱✮ PERMANANT TAGLIST:

@squoxle, @nishiimuranights, @ashgonedash

@yourmomscuntis2tighy, @wonbinisbabygurl

@watamotee33, @addictedtohobi, @ot7sevenlvr

⋆♱✮ KINKTOBER TAGLIST:

@pasteltheghost16 @fawnpeaks @melonvrs

@mheretoreadff @skzfelixlove @inishij

@yaorzu-blog @andromedawillburyyou @ramyeonzprincess

@zaihypen @simjaeyunns @gardenwonnies @hynier

@idontknowhowtomakeusernames @enhymeowz @minhosimthings @stormy1408

@crownj1min @jay-0n3s @gacktsa @leeknowinggg

@d-dilemma @mrsjohnnysuh

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byshens · 2 months ago

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pretty when you cry ── sim jake x fem!reader mdni

warnings unprotected sex (dont!), breeding, riding, use of names ( pretty boy, puppy, darling, good boy ), crying, soft dom! reader, sub! jake, overstimulation, est. relationship. lmk if i missed any!

note i love puppy jake <3. fill out this form to be tagged in future enhypen works if you want! ignore any typos pls .. 💯

requests are open! word count 831

jake was pretty.

everyone who laid eyes on him knew that he was pretty. how his fluffy hair would swoop down over his face, covering his beautiful eyes. how his voice was smooth and could melt your heart.

but to you, he was the prettiest when he was under you. the way he would beg for you, moan for you, whimper for you.

cry for you.

it was a long day and you needed to distract yourself, and what better way to do that than get your boyfriend to help you out?

he was now spread on your shared bed while you were on top of him, his cock deep inside your wet cunt.

“fuck, darling. you fill me up so well,” you softly moaned, your hips slowly grinding on his lap.

jake was a mess already, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he struggled to keep himself still, wanting to be good for you.

noises of pleasure escaped his lips every few seconds, his eyes fluttering up to watch you.

you quickened your pace without warning.

watching how his lips parted with a moan, his eyes moving down to watch how his cock slides in and out of you, the sounds of your wetness filling his mind.

“doing so well for me, such a good boy.” you breathed, your hands going to rest on jake’s chest before you began bouncing on him, his cock getting deeper into you.

“oh god—“ jake whimpered, his nails digging into your skin as he slightly moved his hips upwards into you.

“puppy.” you warned, your tone strict but laced with love. jake whined loud, a rope of “sorry”s leaving his mouth as he laid still once again.

“let me please you, can i?” jake begged.

he loved pleasuring you, he loved making you feel so good your mind went blank, he loved when he can visibly see how well he does.

you thought for a moment before nodding, and within seconds jake was flipping you both over, his cock sipping out in the process.

he whined at the loss of connection before he spread your legs in front of him, positioning himself right back to where he belongs. he pushed himself inside and let out a cry, instantly moving quick.

his thrusts were sloppy, but good. you loved how desperate he gets when he’s with you, how much it shows, the pleasure he gets from just being close to you.

“f-fuck, just like that, puppy.” you moaned.

jake whimpered as his hands went to the sheets beside your head and gripped them, his thrusts now rough, long and deep.

he pulled out almost all the way before slamming back in, a strangled cry leaving his mouth again.

jake always gets drunk on you, drunk on your pussy, drunk on your skin, he just loves you so much.

“more, do it more.” you moaned, watching as jake took your words in, he continued his rhythm, but it was getting too much for him, you could see.

“im close, im so close, please,” he begs, his hips snapping quickly into your cunt, begging to be able to release, to fill you up.

“cum for me, pretty boy.” you pulled him down for a kiss, latching your lips onto his roughly as he whined against them, his hips stuttering before you felt him cum, his hips not stopping.

jake was too far gone in the pleasure now, he needed more. he needed to please you more.

he didnt stop, he pulled away from the kiss and watched as you came with him, how your body was twitching from the release, but he couldn’t stop.

“oh my god.” he whined, his hands moving back to your hips as he positioned himself closer, his hips fucking into you quickly, as quick as he could.

you saw stars, his tip hitting all the spots he needs to and when you looked down, you swore you could see a bulge in your stomach, the outline of his dick.

you were released from your thoughts as you heard a sob, looking up to see jake crying.

you giggled. he was feeling too good, he started to cry.

the wet sounds of his cock fucking into you drove him crazy, he was on a high.

“d-darling, you okay?” you moaned loud, you loved when he cried, how desperately he tries to please you.

“‘s so good,” he cried, already feeling like he needs to release again. “close,” he moaned.

“cum again for me,” you breathed out heavily, your legs twitching from the overstimulation.

jake nodded quickly and gave a few more thrusts before he was filling you again, his hips staying deep inside you as he fell onto your chest, his hips twitching.

“good boy..” you moaned, cumming along with him. you watched him lie there as he was out of breath.

“you did so good, always so pretty when you cry.” you praised, wiping the tears from his cheeks, he blushed.

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enhaflixer · 2 months ago

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bf!Enhypen x f!reader - the faces and sounds they make during sex + pt.2 of pornstar material!Sunghoon

ENHA HARD HOURS 18+ MDNI jungwons part has belly bulging so if ur not okay w that dont read it pls. and sunghoons part has filming. yk this ish is nasty so dont expect anyth else tbh

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠

At first, Heeseung tries to keep himself together. Tries. His jaw is clenched, his brows furrowed, and his fingers dig bruises into your hips as if sheer force alone will keep him from falling apart too soon. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly, sweat dampening his hair at the edges of his temples, and his teeth sink into his bottom lip, hard, trying to suppress the low, guttural groans that threaten to escape with every slow, deliberate roll of your hips.

But it’s pointless.

The moment you tighten around him, drag your nails down his chest, whisper filth into his ear, he’s done for. His entire body jerks beneath you, a broken gasp leaving his lips as his composure shatters in real time. His head falls back against the pillow, exposing the long line of his throat as his lips finally part, releasing the kind of deep, wrecked moanthat reverberates in his chest, sinful and raw.

“You like this, don’t you?” you murmur against his ear, voice thick with amusement. “Letting me ride you like this, letting me take whatever I want from you.” You bite down on his earlobe, tugging slightly, and his entire body shudders. His grip on your hips tightens reflexively, like he’s trying to take control again, but the moment you slam your hips down on him just right, his breath catches, and his jaw goes slack.

“Fuck—” His voice breaks, deep and rough, his brows furrowing tighter as he drowns in the feeling of you. His hands tremble against your skin, and when you lean in close, pressing your lips right against his ear, you feel the way he physically tenses beneath you, how his body twitches every time you whisper something filthier than the last.

“You hear that, baby?” you tease, rolling your hips in slow, calculated movements that have him gritting his teeth, groaning deep in his throat, every muscle in his body pulled taut. “That filthy sound you’re making? So desperate, so fucking wrecked. I love hearing you like this.”

His eyes squeeze shut, his forehead creasing, his breath coming out in shaky, uneven pants as his self-control slips through his fingers like sand. His lips part, forming your name in a choked, needy groan, his chest rising and falling erratically beneath you. He looks so fucking beautiful like this— strong arms tense, veins prominent, jaw slack, brows still pinched in pure, overwhelmed pleasure.

The closer he gets, the more helplessly filthy his expression becomes. His thighs tremble, his hands dig into your hips so tight you know you’ll feel it tomorrow, and his mouth hangs open completely, lips swollen and wet from all the times he’s bitten them raw. His breath comes in ragged, wrecked gasps, and every time you drop down onto him, every time your walls squeeze and flutter around him, his moans turn low, deep, nearly feral.

“F-fuck—baby, I’m—” His voice catches, the deepest, filthiest sound leaving his throat as his entire body jerks beneath you, every muscle coiling so tight it’s almost painful. He holds onto you like a lifeline, his face the perfect picture of a man absolutely destroyed by you— jaw clenched, brows furrowed, lips parted in deep, guttural groans as his climax rips through him, violent and all-consuming.

Heeseung doesn’t just come quietly.

He gasps, groans, moans your name like a prayer, head thrown back, mouth wide open as his body trembles beneath you, thick fingers still gripping you tight, holding you close, refusing to let you go. His skin is flushed, glistening, damp with sweat, and even after, even when he’s still struggling to breathe, his lips stay parted, brows still furrowed like he hasn’t come down yet, like he’s still lingering in that wrecked haze of pleasure.

And when he finally opens his eyes again, when he meets your gaze with hooded, fucked-out eyes, his voice comes out gravelly, wrecked, almost teasing despite how completely ruined he is.

“Shit, baby,” he breathes, licking his lips, looking you up and down with pure hunger. “You’re not done with me yet, are you?”

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠

Jay likes to talk. He always has something to say—cocky, teasing, throwing in some smug little remark about how he’s the one wrecking you, the one making you fall apart.

But not right now.

Right now, Jay can’t say a single fucking word.

His head is tipped back against the mattress, jaw slack, lips parted in an utterly ruined, breathless moan. His arms—usually so strong, so in control—are trembling beneath you, hands weakly gripping your waist like he’s barely hanging on.

And his eyes?

They’re shut tight, completely screwed shut, his brows furrowed in pure, overwhelming pleasure. His chest rises and falls erratically, his abs tense and flexing beneath sweat-damp skin, and his lips twitch slightly, trying so hard to form words that just won’t come.

He looks like a man who’s been completely fucked brainless.

But you want more.

“Jay,” you whimper, bouncing on his cock at a filthy, punishing pace, grinding down against him, watching his head loll back further, his mouth falling open as a helpless, deep groan slips from his throat. “Baby, look at me. Open your eyes. Please.”

He makes a wrecked, desperate noise, something between a whimper and a choked curse, his fingers twitching at your hips like he wants to take control but can’t. His lashes flutter, his brows knit together tighter, but he still won’t look at you.

“Jay,” you gasp again, leaning down, lips brushing over his jaw, his cheek, his ear. “Please. Just one look, baby. Let me see you. Let me see how fucking good I’m making you feel.”

A deep, shaky breath leaves his lips, his head rolling to the side, cheeks flushed, jaw tense, but his eyes stay firmly shut. His body shudders as he breathes out a low, broken “fuck”, his voice shaking so much it makes you clench around him even tighter.

That’s what does it.

The moment you squeeze around him, his eyes fly open for half a second before rolling back completely, eyelids fluttering shut again as a deep, wrecked groan rips from his throat. His entire body jerks, his grip tightens painfully around your waist, and his hips snap up into you desperately, helplessly, like he’s chasing a high he can’t handle.

“Angel, I—” His voice is completely fucked, breathless and shaky, words slurring together like he’s lost all motor function. He tries to open his eyes, tries to obey you, but the pleasure is so overwhelming, so brain-melting, that his lids just keep slipping shut over and over again.

“Fuck, I c-can’t,” he stammers, his voice breaking, breath stuttering hard as his body tenses, twitches, spirals closer and closer to the edge.

“Yes, you can,” you whisper, licking into his mouth, moaning softly against his lips as you keep riding him, keep taking him, keep watching him come undone beneath you. “Look at me when you cum, Jay. Let me see you.”

It takes everything in him, every ounce of strength he has left, but his lashes flutter just barely open, and you catch the barest hint of his dark, glossy eyes—glazed, wrecked, overwhelmed—before they roll back again, his mouth falling open in a deep, desperate, completely ruined moan.

His orgasm hits him like a truck, his body jerking up into you, shaking, his breath catching mid-moan as he completely loses control. His fingers dig into your hips so tight it hurts, his abs flexing hard, his head tilted back against the pillows as his jaw drops open, lips forming helpless, broken curses.

He’s gone.

So fucked-out, so utterly wrecked, so deep in pleasure that he can’t even function.

When it’s over, when the last tremors leave his body and you finally let him catch his breath, he still can’t open his eyes. His face is slack, completely blissed-out, his lips still parted, chest heaving, body twitching with the aftershocks.

And when he finally manages to flutter his lashes open, to look at you through half-lidded, exhausted, pleasure-drunk eyes, his voice comes out hoarse, wrecked, and so fucking low it makes you clench again.

“Fuck, angel” he breathes, licking his swollen lips, looking like a man who’s just been destroyed.

Then his eyes flicker shut again, his head tipping back with a weak, blissed-out smirk.

“You almost fucking killed me.”

𝐒𝐢𝐦 𝐉𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐮𝐧

Jake never stops watching you.

From the moment he sinks inside you, he’s completely fixated, eyes dark, wild, blown-out, lips parted as he gasps, his chest already heaving, sweat already glistening at his temples.

When you start moving, when you grind down slow, teasing, dragging it out just to watch him suffer, he whines. Loud.

“Princess, f-fuck—look at me.”

His voice is already shaking, so wrecked, so needy, and it makes you clench down around him just to see what it does to him.

His mouth drops open, his brows scrunch tight, his thighs tremble beneath you as he lets out a desperate, high-pitched moan, fingers digging into your hips, gripping tight like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

But then you close your eyes.

Just for a second, just because the pleasure is so intense, just because it’s too much

Jake fucking breaks.

“No, no, no, no—baby, please—” His hands fly up to your face, cupping your cheeks, desperate, frantic, breathless.“Look at me. Fucking look at me while you use me—please, please, princess, I need to see you.”

You force your eyes open, and the moment your gaze locks onto his, he whimpers so loudly it sounds like a sob. His body twitches violently beneath you, his lips wet and parted, trembling, his expression completely wrecked, helpless, slutty.

“Oh, f-fuck—fuck, that’s it, baby, please, please don’t stop,” His voice catches mid-moan, breaking apart, raw and high-pitched. His stomach flexes hard, his jaw goes completely slack, and he lets out this long, drawn-out, whiny little gasp as you grind down harder.

You lean in close, whispering against his parted lips.

“So needy, Jakey,” you tease, letting your nails drag down his heaving chest, watching as his body jerks violently. “You really wanna watch yourself get fucked that bad?”

Jake nods so fast it’s pathetic, his eyes fluttering, barely able to stay open but still trying.

“Yes, yes, baby—please, fuck, I can’t— I need to see you, need to see your face when you break me,” He gasps again, shaking, his breath catching in his throat, his fingers twitching against your skin.

You start riding him rougher, faster, and he wails.

Loud. Whimpering. So fucking desperate it makes you dizzy.

“O-oh, oh my—f-fuck,” His mouth hangs open, panting, moaning, completely overwhelmed, completely gone. His hips stutter, his thighs shaking uncontrollably, and his voice rises, breaking into a string of whiny, high-pitched moans.

But the moment you start to close your eyes again,

Jake grabs your chin, hard.

“Princess, please—keep looking at me, please, please, please, I need you to see how fucking ruined I am for you.”

His head falls back against the pillows, his jaw dropping, his lips parted so wide in a wrecked moan that it’s almost obscene. His eyes flutter but stay open, his fingers digging into your skin like he can’t handle it.

“F-fuck—oh, God—p-please, princess—” His voice breaks entirely, breath stuttering, body trembling beneath you. “Oh my God—f-fuck, I’m cumming, I’m cumming—baby, please look at me while I fucking cum.”

The moment your eyes stay locked onto his,

Jake wails.

His entire body tenses, shakes, jerks violently, his chest heaving, abs clenching, his lips forming your name over and over again in breathless, desperate, whimpering moans.

He keeps his eyes on you the whole fucking time.

Even when he’s spilling inside you, even when his voice cracks into gasps and whines and helpless, filthy pleas, even when he looks so utterly fucking ruined that he can’t even function,

He still won’t look away.

Even after, when he’s panting, shaking, body twitching from the aftershocks, he still has the strength to hold your face in his hands, breathing hard, swallowing thickly.

And with his voice raw, hoarse, completely wrecked, he grins up at you, lips swollen, eyes still full of hunger.

“God, princess,” he breathes, licking his lips, sweaty, flushed, still desperate for more.“You almost fucking killed me. But at least,” His voice drops, filthy, teasing, needy .“You looked me in the eyes while you did it.”

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧

You knew Sunghoon would be hot on camera.

But you didn’t know he would look this fucking good.

It starts as a joke, a teasing little comment you make while you’re riding him, slow and deep, dragging it out just to watch him break. His glasses are slightly fogged, his head is tipped back against the pillows, and his lips, God, his lips, are parted, wet and swollen from how often he’s been biting them.

“Let’s make a movie,” you whisper, grinning breathlessly, reaching for your phone.

Sunghoon doesn’t say a word.

He just smirks, but the expression shatters immediately when you start rolling your hips again, taking him deeper, dragging your nails down his abs just to feel how fucking tight they’re pulled. His head lolls back, his jaw going slack, lips parting even wider as a low, shaky groan spills out of his throat.

You aim the camera right at his face.

Fuck, he looks unreal.

His brows are furrowed, tightly drawn together in pure, aching pleasure, his cheeks flushed pink, his eyes fluttering shut every time you squeeze around him. His mouth hangs open, but at some points, no sound even comes out—just sharp, shallow breaths, his throat working as he swallows hard, trying to hold himself together.

You bite your lip, watching him through the screen.

“You should see yourself, baby,” you murmur, free hand reaching down to stroke over his jaw, tilting his face toward you. His skin is hot, damp, trembling beneath your fingers. “You look so fucking pretty like this. All ruined for me.”

Sunghoon groans, low and deep, the sound vibrating through his chest. His fingers flex against your thighs, like he wants to grab you, take control, flip you over and fuck you senseless.

But the second you start grinding against him harder, faster, making the bed creak beneath you.

He shudders violently, his entire body tensing, his breath catching hard in his throat.

And then he falls completely silent.

For a few seconds, he doesn’t make a single noise.

His head tips all the way back, jaw dropped, brows still furrowed so tight they look painful. His lips part wider, but he’s so fucking lost in it that no sound even comes out anymore, just deep, desperate breaths, shaky and broken.

Then finally a low, guttural groan escapes, long and drawn-out, his abs contracting beneath your hands, his thighs tensing under you. His fingers clutch at your hips, but he’s too fucked-out to even hold on properly, his grip slipping every time you move.

“Doll, fuck,” he gasps, his voice wrecked, completely gone. He still doesn’t lift his head, still doesn’t open his eyes.

But you don’t need him to.

Because the camera is catching all of it.

The way his chest rises and falls unevenly, the way his lips stay wet and parted, the way his throat works every time he swallows around another wrecked, whimpering moan.

And when you tilt the camera slightly, making sure to catch the way his stomach flexes every time he jerks his hips up into you, trying to chase his high,

He completely falls apart.

His breath hitches sharply, his whole body going taut, his hands gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles turn white.

Then comes the sound.

The deep, gritty, almost pained groan that tears from his throat as his orgasm crashes into him full-force, making his hips stutter, his chest heave, his head tilt back even further.

His lips stay open, still breathing heavily, his lashes fluttering but never fully closing, his brows still furrowed in that agonizingly beautiful look of pleasure-pain. His body shudders uncontrollably, his breath coming out in deep, ragged gasps, his entire expression wrecked beyond belief.

You stop recording.

For a moment, all you can hear is the sound of both of you trying to catch your breath. Sunghoon still hasn’t moved, hasn’t opened his eyes, his face still frozen in that stunned, pleasure-drunk expression.

But then you press play.

Suddenly, his own moans are echoing back at him.

Sunghoon’s eyes snap open.

His gaze immediately drops to your phone, watching the way his own jaw drops, his own chest heaves, his own body writhes beneath you like he’s completely helpless.

He loses his fucking mind.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters, swiping the phone from your hands, sitting up, gripping your ass as he watches himself come undone. His lips are slightly parted, his pupils blown-out, his breathing still uneven, but the way his eyes darken as he watches himself on camera is filthy.

He licks his lips, a slow smirk curling at the edges as he glances up at you.

“You turned me into a fucking slut, doll.”

His grip tightens, and the next thing you know, you’re being flipped onto your back, your knees pushed up to your chest. “You better be ready,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your jaw, his lips still swollen from moaning so much. “Because I’m about to return the fucking favor.”

𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐨𝐨

Sunoo is so quiet at first.

Not because he’s holding back—he physically can’t make a sound.

The second you sink down onto him, his whole body shudders, his chest stuttering with shallow breaths, his head tilting back against the pillow as his lips part in pure, soundless bliss. His fingers twitch against your waist, like he’s trying to grab onto something, anything, but he’s too weak, too shaky and overwhelmed to do more than let them rest there.

The noises he makes? So fucking pretty.

Soft, breathy little moans, helpless whimpers, tiny gasps that he can’t even hold back.

His eyes don’t meet yours—he’s staring at your body, at the way you move on top of him, completely mesmerized. His brows furrow, his bottom lip trembles, his abs tighten, and when you roll your hips just right, his lips part even wider, his breath catching in his throat like he’s forgotten how to exhale.

You lean down, pressing your lips to his ear, your voice low and sultry as you whisper,

“What’s wrong, baby?” You let your tongue flick against his earlobe, and his whole body twitches violently beneath you. “Too much? Can’t handle how good this pussy feels?”

Sunoo lets out a high, broken gasp, his fingers digging into your thighs, his chest rising and falling like he’s struggling to breathe.

Still, no words.

Just whimpers, breathless and desperate, moans that get higher every time you grind down on him.

“You like watching yourself disappear inside me, don’t you?” you tease, dragging your nails down his stomach, feeling the way his abs clench tight beneath your touch. “You like watching me ride you like this—watching me use you?”

His eyes flicker up to yours, glassy, dazed, ruined, and he looks so fucking gone that your stomach clenches.

But he still doesn’t speak.

Instead, he lets out the prettiest, quietest little moan, his hands twitching against your hips, his thighs shaking as he struggles to stay grounded.

“You sound so pretty, baby,” you murmur, pressing open-mouthed kisses down his throat, feeling the way his pulse is racing beneath your lips. “So fucking desperate, whining for me like this. I bet you don’t even know how wrecked you look right now.”

His breath catches violently.

His body jerks beneath you, his lips falling open in a choked, shuddering moan, his head pressing deeper into the pillow. His eyes roll back for half a second before refocusing on your body again, completely dazed.

Still, he doesn’t speak.

Only moans.

Whines.

Helpless, shaky little sounds, breathless gasps, tiny, needy whimpers that slip out every time you clench around him.

But when you start moving faster, bouncing harder, chasing your own high,

His body locks up beneath you.

His thighs tremble violently, his fingers grip at your waist so tight they shake, and his moans turn into a soft, helpless string of high-pitched gasps, each one getting louder, more desperate.

You lean down, whispering, “Be a good boy and cum for me, baby,”

He completely breaks.

His back arches, his jaw goes slack, his brows draw together painfully tight, his eyes lock onto your body one last time before rolling back as he finally fucking lets go.

He still doesn’t speak.

He just moans through the whole thing, soft, breathy, completely overwhelmed, his breath stuttering violently as his hips jerk up helplessly beneath you.

His fingers twitch, his stomach flexes, his legs shake so bad he nearly sobs from overstimulation.

When it’s over—when you press a soft kiss to his lips, pulling back to look at his wrecked, blissed-out face,

His lashes flutter, his eyes barely opening, and he finally whimpers out one tiny, breathy little word, voice barely above a whisper.

“More.”

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐧

Jungwon is your sweet baby—until he’s balls deep inside you.

Then he’s nothing but a fucking animal.

No hesitation, no restraint—just pure, wanton, gut-wrenching, brain-melting depravity.

And his face when he fucks you?

Fucking disgusting.

His lips are parted, wet and pink and swollen, his teeth digging into his bottom lip so hard it turns red, his entire expression contorted in sheer, unhinged pleasure. His brows furrow painfully tight, his cheeks flush deep pink, his jaw clenches, unclenches, his throat working hard as he gasps for air.

But he doesn’t look at you.

Not at your face.

His eyes are glued to your body—watching your tits bounce every time his cock splits you apart, watching your stomach bulge every time he bottoms out.

“Holy f-fucking shit,” he gasps, voice wrecked, raspy, primal, his fingers digging so hard into your waist you know you’ll bruise. “Look at you, baby—look at this fucking mess.”

Your body shakes, your breath hitches, and when your eyes start to roll back,

Jungwon grins.

It’s filthy.

“There it is.” His voice drips with satisfaction, with something possessive, dark, depraved. “That’s what I fucking wanted. That’s what this pussy’s made for, taking me so deep you can’t even fucking think.”

And he does it again.

Slams his cock into you so deep you feel it in your stomach, presses his palm against the bulge just to make you feel every inch of it, watches the way your tits bounce, the way your entire body convulses beneath him.

“Fucking take it,” he grits out, hips slamming into yours, sweat dripping from his jaw onto your chest. “Take it. Fucking take it. Let me hear you scream for it.”

You do. You fucking wail.

And it just makes him go harder.

Makes him lose his fucking mind.

“Good fucking girl,” he groans, head falling back for a second, a deep, primal moan ripping from his throat. “Taking me so fucking deep, letting me ruin this fucking pussy.”

And then his eyes drop back down,

Right to your stomach.

Right to the place where he’s stuffed so deep you can see the outline of him.

He presses his palm against it again, harder this time, growling when your walls clamp down around him.

“Oh my f-fucking God—” His breath stutters violently, his abs contracting, his lips parting wider, his voice cracking mid-moan. “You feel that, baby? Feel how deep I am? Feel how I’m wrecking your fucking insides?”

You can’t even speak anymore.

Can’t even breathe.

You’re just writhing beneath him, sobbing, shaking, too fucking gone to do anything but take it.

And he fucking loves it.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he grits out, his pace turning brutal, relentless, obscene. “I can’t stop, baby—I can’t fucking stop. I need this pussy. I need to fuck you like this. I need to keep fucking you until you can’t fucking walk.”

His voice is so raw, so wrecked, so needy it sends you spiraling.

And when you start cumming again, when your body convulses violently, when your walls clench so fucking tight around him that he nearly collapses,

Jungwon loses it.

His moans turn loud, desperate, frantic, his fingers shaking, his thighs trembling, his breath hitching, his stomach flexing so hard he looks like he’s in pain.

His cock throbs, his rhythm breaks, his moans turn ragged and raw as he slams into you one last time, stuffing himself so deep you swear you can feel him in your fucking throat.

“Oh f-fuck—fuck, baby, fuck, fuck, f-fuck—”

His entire body locks up.

His back arches, his jaw drops open, his breath catches mid-moan, and then he groans deep from his chest, low and long and so fucking filthy you feel it vibrate through your entire body.

He keeps fucking into you, even as he cums, even as his thighs shake, even as his moans turn into breathless, whimpering gasps, even as his grip on you goes slack.

Even when it’s over, he’s still panting, still groaning softly, his head falling forward, his forehead pressing to your shoulder, his fingers twitching against your waist.

Finally—finally—he lifts his head.

His lips are red and swollen, his brows are still furrowed, his cheeks are flushed, his breath is ragged, and he just looks at you.

He slowly lifts his head.

And smiles.

It’s sweet. Soft. Gentle.

The kind of smile he’d give you in passing, the kind that would make anyone else think he’s just a boy in love.

Then he kisses your forehead, presses his lips to your temple, and murmurs—so lovingly, so tenderly,

“You’re so good for me, baby. I just love making you feel special.”

𝐍𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐤𝐢

Sex with Riki never starts serious.

It always starts with smirks, teasing, little half-laughs and cocky remarks that make you want to wipe that stupid fucking grin off his face.

Tonight is no different.

He leans back against the pillows, completely relaxed, arms folded behind his head, legs spread wide, his cock standing hard and flushed between you. His eyes trace your body, lazy and smug, lips curled into that slow, teasing grin.

“You’re taking your sweet time, sweetheart,” he murmurs, tilting his head, watching you hover over him, letting his thick cock drag through your slick folds. “You scared or something?”

You roll your eyes, settling onto his lap, grabbing his cock in your hand just to make him suck in a sharp breath through his teeth.

“You talk so fucking much,” you murmur, dragging the thick, leaking tip against your clit, teasing the both of you.

Riki smirks, watching the way you slide him against your swollen pussy, but his lips part slightly when you start to sink down onto him.

When you take him all at once, no hesitation.

His face completely drops.

The smirk dies.

His lips fall open in a silent, breathless moan, his chest stutters against yours, his fingers fly to your hips, gripping them hard like he just lost control of himself.

“F-fuck,” he gasps, head tilting back against the pillow, throat bobbing, breath shuddering.

His voice?

So soft.

Barely there, a ghost of a whisper, like the pleasure just ripped it straight from his chest.

You can see him trying to fight it—trying to hold onto that cocky confidence.

But the second you grind down onto him, slow and deep, rolling your hips so he’s completely buried inside you—

His breath catches again.

His chest stutters, his lips part even wider, and his voice comes out in the quietest, most trembling little whisper,

“Oh, sweetheart…”

His lashes flutter, his hands squeeze your hips like he doesn’t know if he wants to stop you or pull you down harder, and his head lolls forward slightly, jaw slack, eyes barely open.

“You always get so quiet when you’re about to fall apart,” you murmur, grinning as you reach up, dragging your fingers through his sweat-damp hair.

Riki lets out a small, breathy laugh, tilting his head slightly so your fingers drag along his scalp.

“Mm.” He hums, voice airy, distant, still breathless. “Or maybe I’m just enjoying myself, my love.”

Just when you think he’s still in control,

He grabs you.

Pulls you down.

Presses his forehead against yours.

His lips barely brush yours, but he doesn’t kiss you—he just holds you there, his nose nudging against yours, his breath shaky against your mouth.

He whispers again—so soft, so quiet, so fucking intimate.

“Stay right here, sweetheart. Keep your forehead against mine.”

Your breath shudders.

Your hands grip his shoulders, nails digging into his damp, sweat-sticky skin, because he’s holding you so close, so tight, so desperate.

Neither of you open your eyes.

Neither of you break apart.

Just forehead to forehead, noses brushing, lips trembling against each other’s breath, completely lost in the feeling.

You move again, when you start fucking him properly.

His moans turn into choked, breathless little gasps.

“F-fuck,” he pants, his voice shaking, breaking apart. His hands twitch at your hips, pressing you down harder, forcing you to take him even deeper.

And then he lets out the softest, most delicate little whimper.

So soft.

So breathless.

So wrecked.

His lips brush against yours as he moans, his eyelashes flutter against your cheek, his breath stutters every time you squeeze around him.

And then, so quiet, so trembling, so completely gone,

“Don’t let go.”

His fingers press deeper into your back, his forehead presses harder against yours, his breath turns shallow and erratic.

The moment you whisper, “I won’t,”

His moans cut off into choked little gasps, body jerking, thighs twitching, stomach flexing as he completely fucking falls apart.

He still doesn’t let go.

Even as he cums, hips stuttering, breath hitching, body writhing beneath you, forehead still glued to yours like he physically can’t pull away.

Even as he whimpers your name, voice shaking, breathless, completely wrecked.

Even as his entire body trembles through the aftershocks, gasping for air, clinging to you like he needs you to keep him alive.

He finally collapses back against the bed, still holding onto you, still breathing hard, still moaning softly against your lips,

You pull back, just a little.

Just enough to see his face—his swollen, parted lips, his flushed cheeks, his dazed, heavy-lidded eyes, completely blissed-out and ruined.

When he finally opens them, finally blinks up at you,

A small, breathless laugh escapes his lips.

“Holy shit,” he mutters, still panting, voice so wrecked and hoarse you barely recognize it.

You grin, teasing. “What happened to being in control?”

Riki lets out another weak, exhausted little laugh, his fingers twitching against your skin as he pulls you back down against him, lips brushing your ear.

Then—so quiet, so soft, so fucking filthy,

“Shut up and keep fucking me.”

TL: @naurwayyyyy @ziiao @somuchdard @ijustwannareadstuff20 @ddolleri @beariegyu @zzhengyu @annybah @seonhoon @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @highway-143 @koizekomi @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @cristy-101 @bloomiize @dearestdreamies @enhaverse713586 @cybe4 @starniras @wonuziex

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