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3rachasdomesticbanana · 5 months ago

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Side Effects | Han Jisung

•Synopsis: Your science loving nerd of a roommate Jisung has been acting strange but that's not what has fear coursing through your body. It's the feeling that someone's watching you when you're supposedly all alone, the objects moving seemingly on their own and the phantom intimate touches that has you on edge.

Are you going crazy or is there something or someone in the apartment targeting you?

•Pairings: science geek Jisung x Female Reader

•Content Includes: smut, mentions of hauntings & hallucinations, lies and secrets, slight non-con?, somnophilia, unprotected & protected p n v, pervy Jisung, masturbation (m + f not mutual), cliffhanger, Chan makes an appearance a few times

an: if I missed something and you feel it should be included in the content warning please kindly let me know in the comments ♡

Part two will include more scenes with Bang Chan but Jisung is still included. Part three, which will be the last part, will be Jisung.

Part II

Want more smut? Follow the banana 🍌

⚠️tiny warning before continuing: there are moments where reader is unaware of what's happening due to being sleep. these moments may appear as non consensual which is the reasoning for the slight non-con warning. I tried make it known that any sexual activity that happens is welcomed. I hope I was able to convey that. Just a heads up lol. Enjoy♡

Your roommate, Jisung, is a nerd. You mean that in the most affectionate way, of course, but it’s true. When he's not helping the chemistry professor at the local college in his free time, he's experimenting in the apartment or researching different chemicals and compounds. His room is a chaotic mess of beakers, test tubes, and textbooks, everything he needs to create something from science. In the two years of living here, It’s never bothered you. Just as long as he and his equally nerdy friend, Chan, don’t blow the place up or set anything on fire. In fact, you’ve grown quite used to the faint, yet sharp scent of various chemicals wafting through the apartment over the years.

Today, the scent of acetone and metal permeates the small apartment. Jisung and Chan have been working on something for months, the two of them locked away in Jisung's cluttered bedroom. When you ask about it, they just shake their heads with a smirk and say, “Top secret, y/n.” You roll your eyes but smile, understanding their need for secrecy. You respect their space and their experiments, no matter how strange it makes them act, always offering to clean their beakers and test tubes whenever you're washing dishes. The dynamic between you and Jisung is what makes the roommate setup work.

Jisung couldn't believe his luck. Not only was his roommate hot and open minded but a gamer who's always down for a Naruto or Bleach marathon. He was so grateful that you weren't like the stuck up pretty girls he dealt with in highschool. Jisung really felt comfortable with you, he could be himself without fear of feeling like his IQ was lower than what it actually was. So whenever he and Chan were close to a scientific breakthrough and you never asked too many questions it only caused his “little infatuation” as he calls it, to grow.

One evening, you find yourself in the kitchen, hands submerged in soapy water as you scrub away at the dishes. The random playlist you chose earlier plays softly in the background and the faint scent of lemon from the dish soap mixes with the clean, crisp scent of freshly laundered towels, filling the kitchen air. You’re lost in thought, your mind drifting as you methodically clean the plates, forks, and glasses, when you feel a sudden, inexplicable chill. It’s as if a cold breeze has brushed against the nape of your neck but the windows are closed and the AC isn't on. You shiver involuntarily and glance around, half expecting to see Jisung standing there. But the kitchen is empty.

You shake your head, chalking it up to just a random chill and turn back to the sink. The sensation lingers, though—a prickling awareness like you're not alone. For ten minutes it felt like someone was there in the kitchen with you but each time you looked around, no one would be there. You could hear faint tinkering and music from Jisung's room and you knew he was working with Chan. The cold is back as you finish up the last of the dishes and when you turn around again, you nearly drop the plate in your hands. Jisung stands there, silent and unexpected. Brown eyes behind round framed glasses shine at you and he gives you an awkward smile.

"Where did you come from?" you ask, your voice higher than usual.

"Sorry," he says with a shrug. "Didn’t mean to scare you, just needed a drink."

You laugh nervously, feeling your rapidly beating heart slow down. "Jeez Ji, you should wear a bell or something." You let out a breathy chuckle.

He shrugs again and laughs quietly before grabbing a drink from the fridge and disappearing back into his room without another word. The interaction leaves you confused and slightly unsettled. Well, that was strange… stranger than usual. There’s something off but you can’t quite put your finger on it. You shouldn't really be surprised by strange behavior when it comes to Jisung but he's never acted that strange before.

Over the next few days, strange happenings become more frequent. Objects begin to move on their own; a cup slides across the kitchen counter that you barely just noticed and a book falls from a shelf behind you while you watched tv. You find yourself jumping at shadows and sounds and now you're convinced that the apartment is haunted. Of course you haven't said anything about it, Jisung would more than likely think you're crazy.

One evening, you’re gaming in the living room. Headphones on, fully engrossed in the game, when your can of soda just sort of levitates a few inches off the coffee table before gently coming back down. The controller slips from your hands as a cold sensation moves across your cheek. You jump back and scream, calling out for Jisung, but it’s Chan who saunters into the room. Curly hair wild, lab coat askew, and glasses perched on his nose.

"Jisung’s in the bathroom," he says, noticing your wide eyes and pale face. "What’s up y/n?"

"The can... it moved on its own." You stammer.

Chan chuckles, shaking his head. "Must be a temperature change or something. Science can explain a lot of weird stuff, y/n."

“Channie, it fucking levitated! Can science explain that?!” you say in a half shout, half whisper looking up at him.

“Mate, chill out.” He gives you a sympathetic smile and walks over to you to pat your head. “Science can most definitely explain that. I can show you how if you want? I'll just need a few supplies for the demonstration.” His eyes light up and he smiles wide at you, showing off his dimples.

“That’s… okay, Chan. You don't need to do that.” The lack of enthusiasm in your voice isn't missed and he chuckles, patting you again before leaving the room.

You’re not convinced, but you nod to yourself and try to focus on the game, occasionally glancing back at the can. The feeling of being watched never truly leaves, though. Every day you start to notice more—subtle things, like the way Jisung’s eyes linger on you a fraction too long, or the odd satisfaction in his smile when you mention the hauntings after you caved and told him. Jisung's watchful eyes make you feel like you're part of one of his experiments, like some sort of test subject. He's always been a bit weird at times, but this is a whole different level of weird for him. You shrug it off as stress or lack of sleep since he and Chan have the tendency to overwork.

The night is warm tonight, the air heavy with the lingering heat of the summer day. You sit in the black metal wicker chair on the balcony, a book loosely cradled in your hands, listening to the sounds of traffic and crickets below. The warm summer breeze drifts across your skin and you adjust your tank top and shorts that have already begun sticking to your skin from the heat. With a sigh, you look down at the worn paperback book in your hands and try to focus on the words.

You’re half-aware of your surroundings: the breeze, the faint smell of an impending rainstorm, the sounds of the city. It’s peaceful, lulling you to sleep. Your body relaxes, and the book slips from your fingers, resting across your lap. You're in a state somewhere between consciousness and slumber when you feel it.

It's subtle at first, like a feather brushing against your skin, but it soon shifts to the feeling of hands. The touch is hot and insistent, groping your breast under the thin fabric of your tank top. Panic surges in your chest and you force your eyes open, heart pounding in fear. You sit up, the book slipping from your lap and landing with a soft thud on the concrete floor.

You glance around, trying to make sense of what you just felt, but the balcony is empty. You glance down and your breath catches in your throat. Your left breast is exposed, the strap pulled aside in a way that couldn't have happened by accident. A cool breeze brushes against your bare skin, a stark contrast to the phantom heat of the touch you just felt. You pull your tank top back in place with trembling hands, looking everywhere but seeing nothing. Scrambling to your feet, you slide open the glass door and step inside, locking it behind you.

With your heart still thundering in your chest, you make your way to Jisung's room. When you knock on his door, you hear shuffling, the sound barely audible over the whir of some machine inside. He opens it a little and you’re momentarily stunned by the sight of him—disheveled hair, sweaty brow, black-framed glasses askew and wearing an oversized black hoodie.

"Can I help you?" he asks, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

"I think…” you sigh and brace yourself. "The apartment is definitely haunted." you blurt out.

Jisung looks shifty, eyes darting to the side but he quickly recovers and a skeptical smirk plays on his lips. "Haunted? Really, y/n?"

"I’m serious," you insist. "I think something just touched me. Out on the balcony." You point a finger in the direction of the glass door.

Jisung’s brows knit together and he steps out of his room, closing the door behind him, giving you his full attention. "Like... someone was out there?" He messes up his hair even more, running his fingers through the dark strands.

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself. "No, there was no one there when I opened my eyes but it felt hands on me Ji. I don’t know how to explain it."

His eyes darken with a mixture of skepticism and concern. "So you think the place is haunted and that a ghost touched you?" You nod, your heart still pounding in your chest.

He places a comforting hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding you, if only slightly. "Sounds like you were in REM sleep. Dreams tend to feel real and vivid in that cycle." He gives you a sympathetic smile and adds, "Maybe it’s just your imagination."

You narrow your eyes at him. "I’m not imagining this, Ji." You say starting to feel frustrated.

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "Okay, y/n. I’ll look into it, alright?"

Reluctantly, you nod and walk to your room with more questions than answers. As days pass, the strange activity continues. You catch glimpses of movement from the corner of your eye, feel phantom touches on your skin, and hear whispers that have no source. You're starting to feel like you're going crazy.

Jisung’s behavior becomes stranger. He spends even more time locked away, emerging only to grab food or ask you cryptic questions about your day. You start to suspect he knows more than he’s letting on but every time you ask, he deflects with a nervous laugh and spouts some scientific theory. Even Chan is acting odd, though he's usually the more grounded one among them. Not by much—Chan's a weird one too, but it’s part of his charm. He’s an adorkable dork.

The two men are lounging on the couch tonight, eyes glued to the anime playing on the screen, while you're in the kitchen preparing popcorn for the three of you. The scent of melted butter fills the air as you pour it over the freshly popped kernels.

Suddenly, Chan's voice cuts through the ambient tv noise. “You did what?!”

Jisung quickly shushes him, their heads whipping around to you as you turn to look at them, each wearing an identical, innocent grin. Weirdos, you think, shaking your head, tossing the popcorn.

You missed Jisung's whispered confession to Chan about his antics on the balcony. Chan already knew about the mysteriously moving objects and the true cause behind them. It's because he was partially involved. He and Jisung had created a liquid that granted invisibility to the drinker. Their top secret experiment they were working on for damn bear a year was almost near perfect. After successful trials on mushrooms and lab rats “borrowed” from Jisung's chem professor, they decided to take it a step further. Jisung volunteered as their human test subject, and you became the unwitting participant in their trails.

Chan never imagined Jisung would push the boundaries so far though, especially by groping you. But Jisung couldn't resist. Initially, his plan was to give you a harmless scare, maybe brush against your arm. But when he saw you asleep, your tank top revealing the side of your breast, his self-control vanished. He was overwhelmed by a primal urge and it was like his hands were moving of their own accord. He gently pulled your left breast free and gave it a firm squeeze. His mouth hovered inches from your skin, ready to kiss the mound of flesh when you woke with a start.

“Bro, I don't know if you should be taking so many doses. We're not sure if there's any side effects.” Chan cautions, his voice barely audible as you rejoin them in the living room.

Jisung stays silent, unable to respond to his partner as you settle on the floor in front of them, handing over the bowl of hot popcorn. Chan’s concerns echo in Jisung’s mind. He knows Chan is right, but the thrill of invisibility is intoxicating. He revels in the mischief, in watching you unaware of his presence. The moments when you think you're alone, wearing nothing but that oversized Tokyo Ghoul T-shirt and panties, are his favorite.

Every time you reach for a cup or a plate, the hem of your T-shirt lifts just enough to expose a tantalizing glimpse of your ass. When you bend over, the thin material of your thong outlines your pussy, making him feel certifiably insane. Sometimes he would intentionally knock something over just to watch you pick it up. The sight of you bending would make him painfully hard and he'd have to slip away to his room, unable to resist the urge to jerk off to the image that was now burned into his mind.

Jisung’s addiction to the elixir grows with each use. He tells himself it's all in the name of science, to see how much is needed for long-lasting effects but deep down, he knows it's because he can’t get enough of watching you unseen. He needs to be closer to you.

One night, Jisung decides to take things further. Pretending to go out to help the professor at the college, he sneaks back into the apartment quietly, slipping into your room while you’re in the shower. The steam fills the air of your bathroom, the hot water cascading down your body. As you stand under the spray with your back to him and eyes closed rinsing your hair, you remain oblivious to his presence. The glass door to the shower is slightly ajar, giving him a perfect view of your wet body. His breath hitches as he frees his hard cock from his sweats. It’s as if he has no control over his impulses; the need to cum clouds his thinking or maybe it's the elixir that's got him feeling this way? He rubs the palm of his hand over the head of his cock, coating it with precum. When you bend over to shave your legs, he almost cums at the sight of your bare pussy.

Jisung’s eyes are glued to the space between your thighs and the way the water bounces off your skin as the steam rising around you. He bites his lip to keep quiet, thinking, “So beautiful.” His hand moves faster, and he's bucking up into his closed fist until he can’t hold back any longer. With a muffled groan, he cums hard, splattering onto your ass and mixing with the water, washing away unnoticed by you. If only the elixir made his semen invisible too, he'd probably always cover you in the warm, wet fluid like this. He knows he would.

Watching you becomes a nightly ritual for Jisung. He drinks the pale teal liquid that is the invisibility elixir and sneaks into your room. He watches you during intimate moments, like when you fuck yourself with your fingers before bed. He hears you moan his name occasionally when you bring yourself to multiple orgasms and it only adds fuel to the fire. He never thought you found him attractive.

To him, you’re way out of his league. But watching you climax to the thought of him is a dream come true. His obsession grows, and he becomes bolder, unable to resist the urge to touch you while you sleep. Each night when you fall asleep, he lightly runs his middle finger up and down your cunt over your pajamas while he fucks his hand. The soft moans you let out in your sleep never fails to make him cum.

One particularly hot night, you decide to sleep naked on top of your covers. It's impossible to be comfortable when your pajamas stick to your overheated body. You’ve just had an orgasm and you lay there, sated and relaxed waiting for sleep to take over (though you really should get up to pee). Jisung watches you from the corner of your room, his cock painfully hard in his hand. He's lost track of how long he's actually been in here watching you. He waits until you're deep asleep, your chest rising and falling steadily, before he moves closer to your bed.

He can’t resist the sight of you, legs spread apart, pussy glistening. He begins to stroke his cock standing at the foot of your bed but it’s not enough. Before he knows it, he’s slipping out of his sweats. The bed dips as he crawls onto it but you don’t stir. He pushes your legs apart more, his breath catching as he sees just how wet you still are. Slowly he rubs the head of his cock against your folds, shuddering and the sensation. He tells himself “Just the tip,” but when he pushes into your opening, your pussy clenches around him and he can’t stop. He pushes deeper and deeper, burying himself inside you, freezing when you make a soft moan.

He waits, barely breathing before he starts to move slowly. You feel so warm and tight around him. He knows he should stop, "This is so wrong!" his inner thoughts yell at him but it feels too good.

“Fuck, Y/N, you're so wet.” he whispers in the dark, feeling bolder.

Slowly he moves but soon each thrust becomes more desperate than the last. He has to stop himself from slamming into you so that he doesn't wake you.

“Slowly… slowly… ah! Oh shit.” he mumbles quietly. “Is this what you were imagining when you came moaning my name, y/n? Hm? Were you imagining my cock pumping in and out of this tight cunt? Oh fuuuck, mm.”

His legs soon begin to shake as he watches the way his cock disappears inside your dripping cunt and slips out again, leaving his length covered in your creaminess. It's too much—the sight, the soft sighs you're making in your sleep. He pulls out just in time, pumping once into his hand before he's cumming onto his palm, careful not to leave any evidence behind.

He takes one last look at you, still sleeping, before he tiptoes out of your room and back into his. Had you woken up, you would've caught sight of Jisung cumming into his hand above you. The elixir wore off just as his orgasm hit him. He lays in his bed still feeling the lingering sensation of you squeezing his cock with your pussy and it takes a lot to not down more of the pastel teal liquid that sits on his desk and go back into your room to fuck you again.

“How can I make it last longer? There's got to be a way to lengthen the invisibility time frame without taking too many doses,” he mumbles to himself, looking up at the ceiling and lazily stroking his cock. He cums hard minutes later, moaning loudly into his pillow, replaying the sound of you moaning his name in his head and falls asleep peacefully with a smile on his face.

The next morning, you’re up early, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in your hands. A blank sleepy expression on your face as you stare off into space. Jisung joins you, wearing his best poker face.

"Hey, y/n," he says, trying to sound casual. "Sleep well?"

You nod, your eyes, however, tell a different story. "I had a weird dream. It was so vivid... so real. It felt a lot more real than the one I had on the balcony."

Jisung’s stomach churns with guilt but he forces a smile after pouring his own cup of coffee. "Dreams can be like that sometimes. Maybe it’s stress or something."

"Maybe," you murmur, stirring your coffee absentmindedly. "It’s just... I woke up sore." Your face heats with a blush thinking about your activities before you fell asleep last night. Maybe you were too rough? But then why do you feel like you were stretched out way beyond your two fingers?

He swallows hard, trying to keep his expression neutral and ignore the growing sensation of his cock as he sits down across from you. "Sometimes dreams can manifest physically. Your mind is very powerful, you know."

You nod slowly, still feeling doubtful. You know that something strange is going on around the apartment but it's just your testimonies with no hard evidence.. Soon the conversation shifts to more mundane topics and Jisung couldn't be more relieved but the tension remains between you. Throughout the day, you barely see him. Even when Chan came by, Jisung didn't come out of his room. You got the weirdest feeling that he was avoiding you.

“Maybe he's just tired of hearing me complain about my delusions,” you wondered to yourself stirring a cup of chamomile tea.

You spent the time you weren't working convincing yourself that you were indeed experiencing some stress-induced hallucinations. Who were you to doubt someone as smart as Jisung and Chan? A week off of work would do you some good—maybe you'll give yourself a spa day, binge on junk food, and catch up on some anime.

Meanwhile, Jisung and Chan worked hours and hours trying to study their creation further. Jisung's secret of what he did last night stays that way. A secret... No way could he tell Chan—he'd probably stop the experiment, maybe destroy all their hard work and Jisung couldn't, wouldn't let that happen. He needed it now, needed you now. He wasn't just obsessed with the science and having created something that scientists have tried to create for centuries; now he was obsessed with the feeling of invisibility, obsessed with the power it gave him and obsessed with the feeling of you. He craved it all. He knew that feeling could be a side effect, as well as feeling out of control while invisible and all the reckless wrong things he did but he chose to ignore every red flag and blaring warning signs. The more he drank the elixir, the more it controlled him, possessing him with insatiable lust and desire.

That night, driven by compulsions he can't deny, Jisung slips into your room again. Once more, you're naked, lying on top of the covers and the cool air from a fan blowing over your body, makes your nipples hard. The sight takes his breath away, every inch of your body exposed to his hungry gaze again makes his mouth water. He positions himself between your legs, slipping on a condom before pushing into you. The sensation is overwhelming, and he bites down on his lip to keep from making a sound. You moan in your sleep, your hips lifting towards him, and he nearly loses it. He begins to move, each thrust slow and deliberate, watching your face for any sign of consciousness. You murmur something unintelligible but stay asleep. In and out he moves, the slow tempo is so frustrating to him but he knows he needs to be smart. You moan his name in your sleep and he flinches, startled by your voice.

"Shit..." He whispers looking down at you.

Jisung’s heart pounds in his chest, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through him. Your breathing changes, a soft whimper escaping your lips. He can't help but cum quickly and it's intense. He's trembling and panting, spilling into the condom that he hastily slipped on earlier with a grunt. He's still thrusting into you slowly, riding out his orgasm when you start to wake up.

The room is dark when your eyes slowly flutter open. A faint glow from the streetlights seeps through the blinds of your window and casts eerie shadows across your walls. There's a random sensation between your legs pulling you from the depths of sleep. At first, it feels like another dream, but it's all too real. Your eyes scan the darkness, heart pounding, but there's nothing—just the dark room and the soft rustle of the sheets.

The feeling of being filled, stretched in the most intimate way and the rhythmic movements should scare you, but the pleasure is too incredible. Your breath hitches and you find yourself moaning softly as your fingers instinctively trail down your body, finding your clit. You begin to rub, matching the invisible thrusts, your mind in a haze of pleasure and confusion.

Jisung is mesmerized by the sight and his own pleasure builds again as he watches you pleasure yourself. The combination of your fingers and his cock pushes you closer to the edge and he can feel your orgasm approaching, your muscles tightening around him.

"Fuck me harder." you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them. Your eyes squeeze shut and you arch your back lost in the intensity of it all.

Jisung bites down hard on his lip but obliges silently, thrusting harder, deeper and the bed creaks with the force of his movements. He's getting closer to a second orgasm and he can't hold back. His speed picks up and his fingers dig into your hips as he rails your eager warmth. Your body tenses, your back arching further off the bed as you cry out, the sound of your orgasm filling the room. He watches you, unseen but not unnoticed, every moan, every tremble fueling his own arousal. The sight of you coming apart because of him, the feel of you around him—it's too much. With a hard final thrust, he cums hard, filling the condom more that it's dangerously close to overflowing.

You collapse back onto the bed, chest heaving, eyes fluttering close. The room is silent, the only sound is your labored breathing. You sit up slowly, heart racing, looking around the room, but there's nothing like always—just shadows and silence. Even the full feeling is gone.

"Was… Was that real?" you whisper, voice trembling. "I'm losing my mind."

You slide out of bed, legs unsteady and make your way to the bathroom. The light is harsh, almost jarring after the darkness. You look at yourself in the mirror, skin flushed, eyes wide. The lingering effects of your climax make you shiver.

"If that was a dream, it was the most realistic dream of my entire life." you whisper to your reflection. "But if it wasn't... does that mean that whatever is haunting this place just fucked me?" You shake your head and turn the faucet on, splashing your face with cold water.

Jisung slips away, heart pounding, mind spinning. He knows he has to stop, that what he's doing is wrong in so many ways. But the memory of being inside you, the way your body responded to him awake—it’s past addictive. He can still feel the heat of you, the way you clenched around him and he’s not sure he can give that up. He retreats to his room, the guilt eating at him even as your climax plays over and over in his mind.

He lies awake, staring at the ceiling, knowing he’s crossing a line but unsure if he can ever come back from what he's doing. The need, the desire—it’s too powerful. He’s gone too far, and he knows it. The thought of stopping, of never feeling you again—it’s a torment he’s not sure he can endure. All he can think about is the moment he's able to be inside you again.

As the days pass, the tension between you grows. Jisung’s obsession deepens. He becomes reckless, pushing the boundaries of what he can get away with. When he asks how you're doing, you gloss over your experiences of the previous nights, only telling him that you had another strange dream. You don't tell him how you're starting to enjoy them or how feeling sore and wet the next morning is almost addicting.

You think you've gone insane but you embrace the lunacy. Each night, you feel the presence, the pressure, and you give in to it. Giving the ghostly dream specter a face, you've started imagining Jisung, which only makes the experience that much more real and pleasurable. You picture his face, his body, the way he would touch you if he knew your secret desires. It’s become a habit for you now, a way to cope with the confusing feelings. It's better than things getting messy between you two. You'd have nowhere to live if something went wrong between you and Jisung. No need jeopardizing your living arrangements and friendship.

The night is still early, and you can hear the two men in the other room tinkering with their experiments as you rest in your own room. Does the feeling only happen when you're asleep? Could you trigger it somehow? Should you try talking to it?

As you lie naked in your bed, you close your eyes and imagine Jisung. You see him in your mind, wearing nothing but his little lab coat and glasses, kneeling between your legs, looking down at you. You slip a finger past your folds and then another. Your fingers work furiously, slipping in and out. “Jisung,” you moan softly.

His heart skips a beat, for a moment he thought you were aware of him in your room.

“Jisung,” you whisper again into the darkness. “Please… please touch me.”

Unbeknownst to you, Jisung stands at the foot of your bed, invisible and now trembling with need. He hears your whispered plea and it’s like a spark to a stick of dynamite. He climbs onto the bed, his eyes devouring the sight of your naked body, so inviting, so ready. You feel the bed shift and gasp, afraid to open your eyes in fear of the feeling disappearing.

He moves between your legs, his hands tracing the curve of your thighs and you shiver at the familiar, unseen touch. You moan softly, your body responding instinctively, your hips lifting in anticipation. Jisung takes his time, savoring every moment, his cock already hard and aching.

He lets the bead of precum drip onto your pussy before he slides into you slowly, watching your face contort with pleasure as he stretches you. You gasp, your hands clutching the sheets, your back arching off the bed. So real, so intense, you moan Jisung's name again, the sound driving him wild.

“Jisung… yes, please…” you plead, your voice thick with desire.

He moves within you, his thrusts deep and steady, the bed creaking with each motion. You meet him with equal fervor, your hips rocking against his, your body desperate for more. The room is filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, the slick, rhythmic slap of flesh against flesh.

Jisung’s heart races, the thrill of fucking you while you moan his name, steadily pushes him to the brink. He watches your face, the way your eyes squeeze tight, the way your lips part in ecstasy and he knows he can’t stop. Not until you're cumming around him.

“Fuck, Jisung,” you cry out, your fingers digging into the mattress as your orgasm builds. “Fuck me harder.”

He does. Jisung leans into you supporting himself on one hand fucking you harder, pushing into you deeper and gripping your hip so tight it'll leave bruises but you don't notice. You meet his movements eagerly, your body arching, welcoming him in. The sound of your moans fills the room, mixing with the creak of the bed and the slap of skin against skin.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, urging him on. “Yes, Jisung, just like that.” you pant, your voice breathy and desperate.

He's driving into you with a force that makes the bed rock and hit the wall. Your tight, wet heat and your voice spurring him on. He can feel your body tensing, can tell you’re about to cum.

“Cum for me, y/n.” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “Cum on my cock.”

You cry out, shocked at hearing a voice and your body is convulsing as you reach your orgasm. He pulls out just in time, spilling his seed onto your stomach, watching as it glistens in the dim light. He didn't mean for this to happen; he was only in your room as a test. Chan, back in Jisung's room, sits with a stopwatch timing just how long the test run will last. He was only meant to watch you. Jisung didn't have a condom this time but he can't seem to care about the consequences of leaving his cum behind.

You lie there, panting, a satisfied smile on your lips. “Jisung…” you murmur one last time before rolling over, drifting off to sleep.

Jisung watches you for a moment longer, a mix of pride and guilt churning inside him before he goes and rejoins Chan, who heard everything. He's questioned by his best friend as soon as he walks into the room. Jisung has no choice but to confess and with a deep breath he tells him everything. The watching, the touching… the sex. By the time he's done, Chan is staring at him in disbelief.

"Dude, that's... I don't even know what to say," Chan finally says. "You know that's messed up, right?"

"I know," Jisung says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know… but I can't stop. You don't understand. There's this compulsion, this undeniable need when I drink it. It's… it's like my deepest desires control me and I can't do anything to fight back. Please, help me."

Chan sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Of course, I'll help you. We're in this together. I'll be the one drinking it now, and I'll stay here to make sure you don't do anything you shouldn't. We need to be more careful from now on.”

Jisung nods and sighs with relief and for the next few weeks, they work tirelessly, refining the elixir. They study Chan's reactions, starting from the lowest dosage, slowly upping it little by little. Jisung tries to keep his distance from you, but it's hard. Every time he sees you, his desire flares up and he has to fight the urge to use the elixir again. He misses being inside you.

It's been weeks since you felt the ghostly presence and you miss it but you figured since it went away, then it really must've been due to stress and the days off from work truly helped. You didn't think you'd ever feel the strange sensation of being fucked by something you couldn't see again.

How incredibly wrong you are....

★𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔏𝔦𝔰𝔱★ wanna be tagged? Let me know here

@resi4skz @3rachasninja @moonlightndaydreams @rylea08 @hanjiphile @krayzieestay @oddracha @ldysmfrst @jeonginsbaee

#skz smut #han jisung smut #stray kids smut #han jisung x you #han jisung drabbles #han jisung imagines #han x reader #han smut #han jisung fanfiction #han jisung fanfic #han jisung hard hours #han jisung hard thoughts #han jisung oneshot #han jisung x reader

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meirimerens · 1 year ago

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(ran this reblog through a discussion with some people who have more experience in storytelling/gamedev than i do and some who are central asian indigenous [which i'm not] to get their point of view on the Kin so it's probably going to be long because I'm condensing multiple discussion pieces in one, it's gonna be one of them Long Posts)

while the Kin is obviously heavily inspired by the Buryat, including in its language which does contain a lot of Buryat words, but also a lot of not-Buryat words (Yargachin, pointedly incredibly important in the game, is Mongolian directly. as stated above, Yas & Merdrel are also Mongolian), I do not know if I agree that finding the other inspirations is "forgetting that and trying to match them to other cultures". The Kin is not "its own somewhat distinct culture", it is its own, imagined, invented, imaginary culture, which takes inspiration from (/plainly steals) from existing ones. It is an imaginary people with heavy foundational roots, in the same way the town is imaginary with heavy foundational roots, and the disease itself is imaginary with heavy foundational roots. It is obvious the game takes inspiration from the Buryats (and from others), but it also, in the name of storytelling, creates a religion which is almost an inverse of Buryat Tengrism (Tengrism, with Kyuk-Tengri, father-sky-god as head of the pantheon, being, from what i'm understanding, pantheistic [the Main God is in everything, and everything is a manifestation of him], polytheistic [while Tengri is the main one, there is a heap of other gods, goddesses and spirits under/around him, with great importance placed on those spirits [44/55 associated with different things]], and of course with a main head of a father-sky-god; whereas the Kin's religion, with Boddho, a mother-earth-goddess* [whose name seems to relate more to Mongolian], is pantheistic [mother Boddho is in everything and everything is a manifestation of her], monotheistic [she is the only one, the all-mother, all-creatoress] OR duotheistic [her + Bos Turokh are the only deities], and lacking in spirits entirely, which are so important to Tengrism), has an important spiritual caste of women (the Herb Brides) who have no resonance within Altaic/Mongolic/Turkic cultures because no culture has Naked, Dancing Young Pretty Women Whose Sole Job is Dancing For Harvest (some types of goddess-priestesses / witches / oracles have always existed, but the Herb Brides are a distinct, obvious invention, which deserves scruteny. you could argue that they correlates with shamans, but in the text it appears evident that is more the place of Burakh [father, then son], and the Herb Brides directly go against a widespread shamanic practice which is the wearing of many layers made of animal skins, bones, antlers, horns in order to disguise oneself, to wander between worlds, to trick the tricksters, etc), and also like. Worms. "crude", "unfinished". half-man half-dirt.

*the cult of an earth-mother/mother-earth exists in Buryat Tengrism with Umai, because earth-goddesses exist/have existed in most pantheons, especially before the advent of pastoralism; however, she is daughter of Tengri, whereas Boddho is all-mother. Mongolian Tengrism has her be named Etugen, and while she is said to have all control over the natural forces and all living forces be subordinate to her, Kyuk-Tengri is still "above" her, she is the "second highest" after him. the existence of a earth-goddess within two religions does not make them more similar than any others (the Greeks had an earth-goddess, Demeter, with theories that she was there before the advent of the hellenic pantheon as an all-mother... etc etc so on). there is also sources stating that at some point, Tengrist or proto-Tengrist peoples might have worshiped him/a sky-father exclusively or so majoritaly that the other deities were aside, but it could also come from biased or outside sources.

we are also unsure about your claim that the Kin represents the Buryats in "interesting and careful" ways. We do not know of your position wrt indigenity (and it's none of my business specifically, might be the business of those in the group who are indigenous but i'll let them decide if they want to contact you directly) and if you were doing research on the Buryats out of a reconnecting journey or intellectual curiosity/desire and personally feel that the Buryats are respectfully represented in P2 as one, but I have read many other Central Asian Indigenous people in this fandom write, since the release of P2 (and possibly before that about P1, as well as in the discussion we were Just Having about this ^) about how the Kin does not represent them faithfully, or even sometimes just kindly, and the treatment of it and its members being insulting in multiple ways (including the fact that their beliefs and language are a hodgepodge of languages and beliefs that feels to "steal" from multiple sources [=appropriative instead of appreciative] which itself is another discussion, do not represent any real-life religion while obviously being inspired by some, and on other levels just the fact that the Kin's clothes do not resemble the vibrant, intricate, and historically-significant clothing of the Buryats, or any of the peoples they are inspired by. That and the fact that they literally have non-human/in text sub-human members [the Worms]). Most of the discussions around the Kin that i've seen, from Central Asian Indigenous people, recognizes and celebrates the inspirations (plural) while still interrogating how callous, cruel, sexualizing and misogynistic the narrative and metanarrative treatment of the Kin is, a far cry from a "careful and interesting way" of representing the Buryats (or any of the other inspirations).

last thing: I am personally curious as to where/how you've found the "half Chinese" data piece, because I have not been able to find anything of the sort online (doesn't help that my grasp on Russian is nonexistent). I have seen it going around, without a source, and I also have seen (in the tags of this) the data of "1/16 Manchu or Han", which is a far cry from "half-" anything, and not related to Shenekhen Buryats. [deleted the rest to add:]

Dybowski, from his own mouth, is not half-chinese, and the tagger who mentioned it being 1/16 was right: on page 57 of [this interview], he mentions his grandfather's father (so great-grandfather) having married a Chinese woman (when he was 60 and her 20, but that's a whoooole other story), making him 1/16 chinese (possibly Han or Manchu as the tagger mentioned). I do not doubt this informs his view of the world and how he is treated, even if he mentions being "the only one in [his] family who really looks Russian", but it is a far-cry from "half-" anything. that does not change the general discussion i've read for years at this point around the Kin, which is that the inspirations are obvious and should be celebrated, but it is obviously imaginary/invented, and in the hazy lines of imagination lies a treatment of the Kin which is cruel, crude, sexist (more specifically misogynistic), often racist and feels more like appropriation for a morally gray ethnicity that pays lip-service to its inspiration but mistreats it nonetheless rather than full, hearty representation.

great discussion! 👍🫂 i'm genuinely glad we can exchange on this. but what is contained in your reblog is, from what i've seen and read, pretty far from the consensus on the Kin. we all can recognize (and we should appreciate and take good care in handling) the real-life inspirations while still seeing that, in the blurry lines of storytelling and "invention" for the sake of (technically) a ~fantasy~ ethnicity, lies like. a racist mistreatment with appropriative qualities. which i've seen people talk about for years at this point.

the pathologic Kin is largely fictionalized with a created language that takes from multiple sources to be its own, a cosmogony & spirituality that does not correlate to the faiths (mostly Tengrist & Buddhist) practiced by the peoples it takes inspirations from, has customs, mores and roles invented for the purposes of the game, and even just a style of dress that does not resemble any of these peoples', but it is fascinating looking into specifically to me the sigils and see where they come from... watch this:

P2 Layers glyphs take from the mongolian script:

while the in-game words for Blood, Bones and Nerves are mongolian directly, it is interesting to note that their glyphs do not have a phonetic affiliation to the words (ex. the "Yas" layer of Bones having for glyph the equivalent of the letter F, the "Medrel" layer of Nerves having a glyph the equivalent of the letter È,...)

the leatherworks on the Kayura models', with their uses of angles and extending lines, remind me of the Phags Pa Script (used for Tibetan, Mongolian, Chineses, Uyghur language, and others)

some of the sigils also look either in part or fully inspired by Phags Pa script letters...

some look closer to the mongolian or vagindra (buryat) script

looking at the Herb Brides & their concept art, we can see bodypainting that looks like vertical buryat or mongolian script (oh hi (crossed out: Mark) Phags Pa script):

shaped and reshaped...

#i brought it up in the gc because it was my impression and i wanted to check in with people who have been here longer than me + are also #more impacted than me but i've always seen the discussion around the Kin to be like ''yeah [x] is obvi inspired by [ethnicity]; [y] is #obviously inspired by [ethnicity]; but [z] is hogwash hodgepodge and [ethnicity] doesn't do that and [a] is hogwash hodgepodge [...]''#like i will not lie to you. i have not seen an indigenous person in this fandom truly believe that the Kin is in any way respectful/careful #to any culture it is inspired by. but then again 1) love to hear dissident opinions; that's what Discussion is for and 2) maybe i just #haven't looked far enough! that's perfectly possible!#i've seen (& continue seeing) people recognize and appreciate the bits and pieces of the Kin that Do have obvious correlations [the Buryat #belief of the Earth needn't be cut+needing ask for permission to dig; the Trials of p1 which i've seen native american people relate to;...#but like. ''yeah it's careful/respectful'' has never been a sentence i ever come across about the Kin. won't lie.#like for every post i read about how the Kin is a respectful homage to [ethnicity] i read 2 to 4 abt how it's a disrespectful sexualizing #hodgepodge of (sometimes unrelated) sets of beliefs and mores that the game both wants you to interact with as a narratively-understood #racism problem in-game & Also is racist itself and lacks so many distinctive qualities of [ethnicity] to the point it feels just like ''one #of them fantasy ethnicities white authors make for their YA novels that are SWANA-inspired but they won't fucking bother doing their #research on which one they want to appropriate'' - GC message [permission to share]#like i am but the messenger on this [because again. not CA indigenous. but i know people who are and i read things by people who are #and i've run this reblog through people who are etc] but most of the discussion around the Kin does Naht go in the sense of #''it's a careful and interesting [way of handling the Buryats/Mongols/...]''. most people i've read talk about it #are somewhat pissed lol. which again. it's perfectly normallll to have dissident opinions. in the Perspective game.#tldr; imaginary and imagined people with obvious and very clear inspirations but in the blurry edges in the ''imagination'' & ''invention''#lies some disturbing racist/misogynistic/appropriative shit; which lead writer D.; even if half-chinese or 1/16 Han or Manchu*;#[ETA: 1/16 was right] still can fuck it up big big time.#also considering his Allegations towards women and girls everyone can side-eye his treatment of the Herb Brides; regardless of if we think #that's a ''respectful'' invention based on RL ethnicities #neigh (blabbers)#anyways. genuinely good discussions to have and partake in; even if it's obviously different visions on the matter.#i'm also really attached to like. creating fantasy ethnicities for storytelling but like all storytellers you haaaaave you have to do your #research to handle the ethnicities you're ''basing yourself on'' properly.#the whole argument here [which other people have more eloquantly/personally described than I] is that the Kin is both different enough #from its inspirations [completely different dress; different spiritual castes and practices; a religion that is almost the complete inverse #of buryat tengrism; the herb brides; the worms;...] but also Similar Enough that we have to consider like. both parts of the equation

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strawberry-graveyard · 1 year ago

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friendly reminder that not all traumagenics are disordered!! if you’re traumagenic and nondisordered i love you, i’m proud of you, and i hope you’re doing okay :3

#here lies han #plural positivity #system positivity #plural stuff #system stuff #pluralgang #non disordered system

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starlostseungmin · 6 months ago

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husband!jeongin

✰ notes: this is 2 days late but jeongin’s here!! thank you so much to that jeongin biased anon who read my husband minho headcanon and for giving me this idea!! i appreciate you so much <33 not proofread. DO NOT FORGET TO REBLOG, COMMENT AND LEAVE TAGS! thank you <33

seungmin , chan , lee know（ jeongin ）han , changbin , felix , hyunjin.

ꔛ

Husband Jeongin who tripped when he got down on one knee just to propose. You laughed at him but said yes at the end. He got embarrassed so you gave him the sweetest kiss on the lips which he gladly returned passionately.

Husband Jeongin whose Hyungs got emotional the moment he’s officially married. Chan and Hyunjin cried the most.

Husband Jeongin who got a full sponsor from Chan throughout your wedding to your honeymoon because he was generous and loves to spoil Jeongin. You too.

Husband Jeongin who is clumsy and gives you secondhand embarrassment but the amount of love still remains. He tripped at the bowling alley after rolling the ball on your date. Not once but twice.

Husband Jeongin whose idea of dates consists of watching movies at the cinema, shopping, eating at your favorite restaurants, and spontaneous travels.

Husband Jeongin who scams you with his cuteness just to make you buy him some stuff, especially his type of shoes and he feels like he’s on top of the world when you do. He goes for the weird ones with style.

Husband Jeongin who buys you your favorite albums even though he jokes around that you’re cheating on him with another group rather than his own.

Husband Jeongin who loves shopping and stealing kisses inside the fitting room cubicles while you are changing. You weren’t used to it as it leaves a blush on your cheeks.

Husband Jeongin who loves taking selfies with you. In this marriage, you are the photographer and he’s the model but at the same time, he loves taking pictures of you, especially candid ones.

Husband Jeongin who loves food, and rates them with you based on their tastes.

Husband Jeongin who takes you out on a night stroll while eating ice cream you two bought from the convenience store nearby.

Husband Jeongin who is the reason for your cuteness aggression that makes you want to smooch and cuddle him all day. He can’t resist any physical touch from you anyway.

Husband Jeongin who can’t cook to save his life so you taught him how to yet still fails. You both just laugh it off.

Husband Jeongin who respects your beliefs and never judges them.

Husband Jeongin whose love languages are gift-giving, quality time, and physical touch.

Husband Jeongin who lets you sleep on his shoulder, on his lap, or just use his body as your pillow. He doesn’t mind and doesn’t say anything but initiates cuddles to make you more comfortable.

Husband Jeongin who gets angry when someone upsets you and is the type of person to do something back so no one could touch you again.

Husband Jeongin who can’t keep up for a long time being not okay with you after an argument and proceeds to apologizeーhugging you tenderly as he whispers that he loves you.

Husband Jeongin who doesn’t want to be away from you for a long time and misses you the most when he goes abroad to work. He’ll call you when he gets to the airport or when he’s not busy.

Husband Jeongin who loves kids but doesn’t pressure you to have one with him.

Husband Jeongin who tries his hardest in this relationship to give you the love you deserve but you insist that he doesn’t need to put in a lot of effort because he is already enough and the heartwarming things he does with you are considered as reassurance.

Husband Jeongin who is a baby and still a baby for you even if he insists that he’s already a grown-up. His Hyungs would argue otherwise.

Husband Jeongin who has a precious smile and adorable laugh. He has a lot of cute sides and whines like a kid in a good and acceptable manner.

Husband Jeongin who is always true about his feelings for you and never lies.

Husband Jeongin whom you love the most in the world and swore you’ll protect him at any cost.

Husband Jeongin who promised to love you forever and never hurt you which you’d do too.

✰ taglist: @notastraykid , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @reignessance , @lix-ables , @skzfelixlove , @rachabreathing , @hyunverse , @minluvly , @sleepyleeji , @starseungs , @midsoulz , @oddracha , @armystay89

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

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hunterwritings · 1 year ago

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𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡-𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 | 𝐥𝐢𝐧 𝐤𝐮𝐞𝐢 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐨

summary: "Hey! I was wondering if you can write headcannons on the Lin Kuei trio being touch-starved? 😁" warnings: none i think notes: THIS IS THE GOOD SHIT

↳ 𝐁𝐢-𝐡𝐚𝐧

i have a firm belief that this man is extremely touch-starved

Bi-han would never admit that he's touch-starved, in words at least

Physical affection is something Bi-han doesn't like to show in public, unless he is extremely stressed or he's trying to let someone else know that you're with him. If he sees Johnny playfully flirting with you, oh you better believe his hands are all over you. "C'mon gorgeous, you're made for the big screen! I bet millions of other people would agree with me, would make a lot of money in the box office too." Johnny smirked as he leaned back against his chair looking up at you. "Uh huh, very funny Cage." You rolled your eyes. Before Johnny could continue his hopeless flirting, you feel a cold hand wrap around you waist. You turn your head to see Bi-han standing behind you, he pulls you closer and lies his chin on your shoulder with his eyes glaring at Johnny. Oh if looks could kill, Johnny would be a dead man. "Woah there Blueberry Icee! I mean no harm!" He laughs and holds his hands up in defense. Bi-han just grumbles in response as he pulls you away from Johnny and walks away with you, his hands never leaving your waist.

Another scenario with Bi-han being very touchy, is when the two of you are lying down to go to sleep. This time in Bi-han's eyes is one of the best times of the day for him. It's the time when he doesn't have to keep that powerful aura to be a good leader, he can wind down and just relax with you in his arms. He holds your head close to his chest as he wraps his arms around your body. He has one of his hands caressing your head as he looks down at you, admiring everything about you. He wishes he could hold you like this forever and protect you from any harm that ever comes your way.

↳ 𝐊𝐮𝐚𝐢 𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐠

Kuai Liang is the type of person to see that he is touch-starved until he meets you.

When you two are together, he now sees how much he wants to hold you, to kiss you, to hold you in his arms. He would give anything to have you near him at all times.

Of course he wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable in any way, so he might hold back on wrapping his arms around you or kissing you in public at times. Until you tell him it's okay, then he wouldn't even dream of removing his hands from you.

He loves walking hand-in-hand with you, to feel your cold hand against his warm skin. It was the embodiment of relief to him.

There are many moments when you will be doing everyday tasks and Kuai Liang will just come up and hold you.

You stood at the edge of the stove, cooking dinner for you and your husband when you felt two warm hands wrap around your waist. A chuckle escaped your lips as you felt him lie his head on your shoulder, softly leaning against your head. "Do you need any help, my love?" He asks as he presses a kiss to your shoulder. "No, honey, I'm alright." You smile and lean your head against his. He smiled and pulled his head back to press his forehead against your shoulder as his large arms tightened around your waist. "You don't have to stay here with me if you don't want to." You reminded him, bringing one of your hands behind you to lie on top of his soft hair. "I know." He quietly responds. You can't help but turn around and face him. You reach your arms up to wrap around his shoulder as he never moves his arms from your waist. The look he gives you is pure awe, as if he had never seen anything so angelic in his life. He could never get tired of looking at you. You pull him close to you and press a sweet kiss to his lips, hearing him sigh of relief as soon as kissed him. He could never be stressed as long as he knew you were around.

↳ 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬

Tomas is a bit more shy when it comes to his relationship, it takes him a while to confess to his partner and even longer to initiate physical affection with you. He wants to hold his partner in his arms for all of eternity if he could, he wants to always keep you near him.

Tomas is almost like a lost animal, he wants to follow you around everywhere you go.

He likes the idea of being near you to protect you and show other people that you are with him. Though, most of the time it might have to be you that initiates physical affection while in public.

When the two of you are very close, it would be easier for him to hold you and touch you without feeling anxious.

He likes to caress your face and analyze every single detail of it. Every freckle, every scar, every color, he doesn't care, he just loves every single detail about you. There will be many times when the two of you are talking and Tomas would hold your face in his hands as he tried his best to listen to you.

You sat at one of the dining tables, sitting next to Tomas with your chair facing his as you held a small notebook with your training plans for the new initiates. "I was thinking of starting to train them at dusk and then continue throughout the day." You started to explain, looking down at your notebook. Tomas's eyes were dead set on you as he leaned his head against the palm of his hand, his arm resting against the wooden table. His eyes scanned your face as you spoke, trying his hardest to listen to your words but all he could focus on was your face. "Tomas, I feel like you're not listening to me." You raise your eyebrow at him as he silently snaps back into reality. "I am listening to you." He quietly says, reaching his hand up to lie on the side of your face, his thumb caressing over your cheek. "Really? Then what did I just say?" You smile, reaching your hand up to lie on top of his. "Um.." He trails off before the two of you laugh. "I'm sorry, it's so hard when you are this beautiful." He says as he reaches down to your chair and pulls you even closer to him. Now both of his hands rest on either side of your face as he presses his forehead against yours. "I wish I could stay like this forever." He whispers as he exhales deeply. "Maybe there will be a time when we can." You smile before leaning into him and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

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skzms · 8 months ago

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🌊 ೃ‧₊◜ sea may rise, sky may fall chapter V

pairing: lee know x f!reader x han jisung

summary: Han Jisung is the bane of Minho's existence. Fuck Han Jisung.

word count: 7.1k

warnings: swearing, nudity

author's note: oooooh things are getting spicy bestiessss. thank you for all the love and the feedback, i appreciagte every single word. let's see where this goes 👀

this series is 🔞, so minors, please DNI

series masterlist // skzms masterlist

< chapter IV - chapter VI >

Fuck Han Jisung.

Minho’s scalp is on fire, the midday sun bearing down on him where he sits at the bow of the ship. His hat lies forgotten in the captain’s quarters, but she’s currently having a strategy meeting with Hyunjin, so he doesn’t want to barge in just to get it. So here’s forced to bear it, beads of sweat accumulating on his brow, his skin burning under his black hair until he thinks he can feel the sunburn develop.

Then he hears it again. The stupidest fucking laugh he has ever heard, echoing across the deck, loud and shimmery and unabashed, as if its owner didn’t have a care in the world. What’s Han Jisung got to be so fucking happy about all the fucking time? Literally every time Minho sees the guy, he’s smiling. Or well, he is, until his eyes fall on Minho and then his smile always, without fail, dies a swift and painful death, crumpling until he’s looking at him with a barely contained scowl.

Minho flinches where he sits, lifts his arm and sinks his knife deep into the wood of the ship next to his legs with a dull thud. It shouldn’t affect him so much, the fact that Han Jisung arrived on the ship one day, as a prisoner, their biggest enemy’s nephew no less, all fancy clothes and expensive boots, pouty lips and flushed cheeks, and somehow wormed himself into everyone’s heart.

Minho has to admit he wasn’t very … focused that first day when they dragged Jisung into the room, his mind, and his dick, very preoccupied with the taste of his captain on his lips, the thundering of his heart as he allowed himself to leave his hands on her waist. Possessive, satiating something hidden deep in his chest that he didn’t allow himself to indulge in often, all too aware of the invisible line between them.

But he remembers Han Jisung’s arrogance, the scowl painted on his face that looked more like a petulant child than anything else. He also remembers the curl of familiar hatred in his guts when he spoke about his old crew, what they would try to do to him, remembers filing the knowledge away for later, to know just how painfully he would kill them once he got his hands on them – though Han Jisung somehow managed to sour even that with that fucking attitude of his, like he didn’t ever need Minho, quite the opposite. Arrogant asshole.

Minho lets his eyes wander over the deck, skimming the few groups of pirates sitting or working, until his eyes meet Jisung’s where he’s leaning against a mast, chatting to Felix. As per usual, the bright, gummy smile on Jisung’s face dims as soon as he sees Minho, the corners of his mouth falling, eyebrows furrowing and Minho suppresses the urge to snarl, spit onto the planks. Instead, he forces himself to look away, wrests his knife from the wood and drives it in harder, the plank splintering from the impact. When he looks back, Jisung has shifted, half of his perfectly shaped back now facing Minho instead of his face. And he seems to have recovered from Minho’s unpleasant presence, nay existence, his broad shoulders jumping with a silent giggle at something Felix must’ve said.

Felix. Felix, who had joined them after the captain had found him in that horrible whorehouse in Nassau two years ago, that still makes Minho shiver when he just thinks about it. He remembers the captain’s face when they heard his screams from the outside, and she had rushed in without a second’s hesitation, Minho himself hot on her heels, pulling the man who was forcing himself onto Felix off with a violent shove. Minho remembers because he had dragged the man out the door, hatred tickling his fingertips as he slit his throat and left him to bleed out slowly and painfully in an alley. By the time he’d come back, still wiping his knife clean from the filthy scum’s blood, Felix was already part of the crew, thanking him with sparkling eyes and a disarming smile.

Felix, who, for this reason, had never had a cabin mate – until Jisung. Minho doesn’t know how it happened, and he likes to pretend he’s not dying to know. But, of course, nobody volunteers the information. They’re all more than aware of Minho and Jisung’s … differences.

And they’re all on Jisung’s side, his brain supplies unhelpfully. Minho scowls at the surf. Jisung and Felix are inseparable. Seungmin greets Jisung with a soft smile, the rarest thing Kim Seungmin could hand out, patting Jisung on the back when he brings him food. Changbin and Chan sit next to him and pat him on the head when he offers them his leftovers. Hyunjin seems halfway to a serious crush on the guy, always making clothes for him and then dressing him up and running his hands all over Jisung’s body, gushing about his trim waist and thick thighs. And he’s pretty sure he heard Jisung’s stupid fucking laugh from the top a couple nights ago while he and the captain were … it doesn’t matter.

He just doesn’t get it. What’s so fucking special about Han Jisung?! Out of the corner of his eye he sees Hyunjin’s mop of black hair emerge from below deck and make for where Felix and Jisung are chatting and Minho decides he’s just about had enough of the sun scorching his head, of Han Jisung’s stupid laugh.

He swings his legs onto the deck, wrenches his knife from the wood and sheathes it. He feels three pairs of eyes on him as he walks past the little group of them, but he doesn’t spare them a single glance.

Hyunjin will probably give him an earful later about being a grumpy asshole, but he doesn’t care. He’d take that over having to watch his mere presence drain all happiness from Han Jisung’s eyes for the second time in half an hour.

His legs carry him to the captain’s quarters almost on autopilot. Changbin gives him a nod as he raps his knuckles against the heavy door twice and pushes it open.

And God, she’s a sight for sore eyes. Legs propped up on the edge of her desk, her knitted coat wrapped closely around her, what he assumes is Hyunjin’s ration list for the next stopover resting on her knees, her plump bottom lip worried between her teeth.

She only briefly raises her head when he enters, gives him a small, entirely radiant smile, before she turns her attention back to the paper in her lap. Minho closes the door behind him carefully. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots his hat, sitting on the low settee next to her desk. But he doesn’t need it any more, ignores it in favour of walking over to her, coming up behind her until he can lean over her, his hands supporting himself on the armrests of her chair. His eyes run over the words on the paper, but he’s not even going to pretend like he’s reading it, his focus entirely on the way his chest is pressed ever so slightly against her shoulders, his arms resting on hers. The smell of rosemary and lavender and her that emanates from her hair much too faint for his liking from where he is, leaving him aching for more.

“We could afford two or three more crew,” she says, pensively, underneath him, “could really do with them, too, to upkeep the ship and have a better chance with attackers.”

He hums in agreement as she keeps talking, but he’s not really listening as he allows himself to succumb to the siren song of her presence, leaning down a little bit more until he can take a quiet, deep breath of her.

Her chuckle jolts him out of his reverie.

“Are you even listening?”

Minho absentmindedly hums again, a lazy grin spreading over his lips as he leans down, presses a kiss into her hair.

“Something something we should get more men, but you don’t know where to find them,” he mumbles, drags his lips down until they’re ghosting over the shell of her ear. Her little chuckle gives way to a delicious sigh that Minho wants to bottle for a rainy day.

“Like Jisung, he’s been a great addition. I wish they could all just wander into our hands like that …”

Minho freezes, his lips stilling on her warm, rosemary skin. The bliss of their bubble, her skin under his lips, burst suddenly and violently. Han Jisung. Again. He pulls back abruptly.

“Right.”

It comes out acrid. He turns around, busies himself picking up his hat from the settee, dusting it off carefully. He can feel her eyes boring into his back.

“Why do you hate the guy so much, Minho?” she suddenly asks, and he’s taken aback by the directness of her question. He scoffs, turns around and meets her eyes. She doesn’t look angry, just … like she’s trying to figure something out.

“Why do I hate him? Why does he hate me?”

The captain gives him a withering look.

“You literally nearly got him killed a couple weeks ago.”

“Yeah? And he punched me for it, in front of everyone, so I considered us even,” Minho sneers, and he knows he’s being petty. But he’s had about enough of everyone being on his ass about not liking Han Jisung when Han Jisung has been fucking recoiling from him since the very first day …

“Well, did you ever apologise? I know we’re not the most conventional with our customs, but last I checked that would still be a decent thing to do,” the captain chides, and Minho feels anger bubble in his chest. Of course. She’s on his side, too. It hurts more than he can allow himself to admit.

“I did not,” he spits, the stiff felt of his hat crinkling between his tightening fingers, “I don’t know how I would, considering the guy flees every time I set foot into the same room as him.”

The bitterness rises in his chest, and he turns around, makes for the door before he takes it out on her and regrets it later.

“Fine, you win, we won’t talk about it,” she sighs, “I’m about to go over those maps we took from Han Yujun’s ships with Seungmin, do you want to stay?”

Minho recognises the olive branch she’s holding out, but the olive branch reeks of pity, and he’d rather die than suffer that from her. He doesn’t turn when he reaches the door and opens it.

“No, thanks, I’ll see you at dinner.”

And with that, he walks out and straight to his own quarters, where he locks the door and buries himself in his book and his self-pity until the memory of Han Jisung stings a little less.

And by the time he makes his way back to the captain’s quarters a few hours later, he does feel better. He also feels more than a little sorry for how he reacted earlier. He could��ve been with her this whole time, just the two of them in their world. Maybe she would’ve leaned against his chest as they looked at the maps, allowing him to bury his face in her neck, pressing wet little kisses against her irresistible skin until she went pliable in his hands, ignoring Seungmin’s knock in favour of sinking between her legs and making her cum on his tongue.

But instead he had let Han Jisung get to him, again, and what did that get him?! He vows to himself that he won’t ever let it happen again, but that is easier said than done when he walks into the empty corridor and the person he sees through the half open door is most definitely not Seungmin.

“Could it be somewhere super specific? Like the Indian Ocean or the North Sea or something?” Jisung’s voice floats through the air. It’s deeper than Minho’s own, he can’t help but notice.

The captain hums, quietly, thoughtfully.

“Because … I mean, I’ve only ever been once, but I’ve seen maps like these of … of groups of small islands or archipelagos.”

Minho noiselessly tiptoes closer, until he has a clearer view of the room.

Night has fallen and the candles in the sconces all around the room bathe the desk, the settee, the captain perched on the corner of her desk and Jisung leaned over it in a warm, sensual light. She looks like a dream, the candlelight giving her an ethereal glow, softening the hardness in her features, softening everything about her usually wound taut body until Minho thinks he can feel her under his fingertips. Minho should know. This is his time to be in her room like this. But now the flickers of the flames instead bathe Han Jisung in their warmth, radiating off his soft, wavy hair, dipping the planes of honeyed skin exposed by another one of Hyunjin’s creations in a layer of gold so undeniably attractive, Minho wants to throw up.

“Seungmin has cross-checked them with every single one of our maps,” the captain mumbles, pointing to a stack of paper on the edge of the desk, Jisung follows her finger with a thoughtful look on his face. “And none of it lines up. Our maps are only a few years old, and Seungmin is one of the best cartographers out there …”

She slides off the corner of desk and walks over to Jisung and reaches across him to rifle through the papers and Minho watches Jisung’s eyelids flutter, gaze dragging over the expanse of her neck, then her back where her shirt has ridden up to expose the smallest sliver of the skin of her waist; watches his lips part when her arm brushes against his chest.

“Ah. Look,” she exclaims, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, entirely oblivious, and pulls the map towards her. She grabs another one to place next to it, gesturing between them and looking back at Jisung, who blinks at her for a second before lowering his gaze to the maps again. “This one seems to look really similar to this one we found on your ship. But, as Seungmin pointed out, it’s still not right. It’s not the same. And the scaling of these maps we got from your uncle’s ships just doesn’t … make any sense. From a cartography perspective.”

Jisung huffs, shifts his weight from one foot to the other and glares down at the desk with a deep furrow between his brows. He fixes the paper with a mean glare, like he’s trying to force it to give up its secrets by sheer willpower alone.

“I don’t even …” Jisung mumbles, a frustrated huff falling from his pouted lips, “I’ve never understood why he did this anyways. He would send these big ships, with crews of 20 people and someone like me on board, but the ships would mostly be empty … Well, except for these maps, it seems, maps that he didn’t even tell me about …”

He shakes his head incredulously, leaning over the desk again to inspect one of the maps, lingering on the meticulously painted edges of them with his ringed fingers. He leans his cheek in the cradle of his hand and sighs, absentmindedly shrugging off his jacket, throwing it over the back of the chair behind him and shoving the sleeves of his ruffled white shirt up his arms.

Minho watches the captain’s eyes follow Jisung’s movements, drag over his arms, his collarbones, the exposed V of his chest before it flutters up to his profile, lingers on his lips. Minho’s heart hardens into something unrecognisable.

The captain looks back at the maps, sighs, but it’s lighter now. She reaches out, gently pats Jisung on the shoulder, letting her hand rest there for only a second, but it’s enough for Jisung to straighten up with a start. He blinks down at her, stares.

“Just think about it, will you? Because Seungmin and I are at our wit’s end. You’re kind of our last chance …” she says, and Jisung turns to her, his face full of the same stubborn determination as that day when he had screamed at Minho to untie him.

“I promise, I’ll figure it out … we’ll figure it out,” Jisung asserts.

The captain gives him a devastating, lopsided smile, one that makes the tips of Jisung’s ears turn pink and Minho’s heart drop into his stomach.

“Give me some of your optimism, please,” the captain chuckles, but it’s soft, her cheeks warming in a way that makes Jisung’s pout stretch into a sweet, conspiratorial smile. He leans into her, bumps her shoulder with his playfully.

“Hey, you’ve got me now. How could we ever lose?” Jisung chokes with another sickeningly sweet smile that makes his cheeks puff up and Minho watches his fingers brush against hers where they hang next to one another, how he extends his pointer finger to drag over the back of her hand, watches their eyes catch on each other for just a broken moment too long and Minho burns.

He turns abruptly because he knows he can’t stand any more of it, his mind filling with images to torture himself, of Jisung leaning in, kissing her in the golden candlelight that’s his, running his tongue over the seam of her lips, her soft sinful hands on Jisung’s body – his world spins, legs uneven as he stumbles down the hallway, the throbbing wrath in his guts driving him down the stairs, through the living area where he ignores Changbin’s incredulous call of his name and straight through the mess and into the kitchen.

The swinging doors slam against the wall with a loud crack and Felix nearly jumps out of his skin, drops the wooden spoon into the pot he was stirring. Sauce splatters all over his apron, and he curses, gives Minho a dirty look, but Minho has no patience left in his body. The captain. His captain. Not her. Why her?!

“Your little charity case is trying to get into our captain’s pants,” Minho barks out, probably loud enough for anyone lingering in the mess to hear. He doesn’t care. They should all know the audacity of their new favourite.

“Who?!” Felix asks, incredulous, fixing Minho with an infuriatingly patronising look.

“Your little charity case. Your pet. Fucking Han Jisung,” he spits out and Felix’s eyes widen before they narrow again, this time much less friendly.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you, Minho, he’s not my … what the fuck?!”

“Whatever,” Minho interrupts him, waves his hand dismissively rolls his eyes, “what matters is that he’s trying to get into the captain’s pants.”

Felix’ eyes narrow even further.

“I don’t understand what you of all people are trying to say with that.” Minho’s clenches his fists so hard he hears a knuckle pop.

“He hasn’t even been here for a year, and he’s already trying to seduce the only woman on the ship. It’s preposterous, it’s disrespectful, it’s …”

Felix shakes his head and turns back to the pot, decisively grasping the spoon, stirring whatever he’s cooking with all the calm in the world. He doesn’t even look at Minho when he finally speaks.

“Well, does she want him, too?” he asks nonchalantly, and Minho’s vision goes blood-red. When he comes to, there’s sauce spilled all over his shirt and his hands are wrapped around Felix’s throat, straining against him where Minho has him pinned against the wall, harder than he knows he should. But Felix is just glaring back at him, coughing, but unfazed in his fury. His foot kicks out and painfully catches Minho in the knee. Minho almost welcomes the pain.

“I can’t believe you would take a stranger’s side over all of us, over the captain who saved your fucking life,” he screams and Felix’s eyes narrow to slits. Behind Minho, the kitchen doors slam open again, and then he’s being dragged back, away from Felix whose voice cuts him deeply.

“Don’t pretend like this is about the captain, you fucking hypocrite,” Felix yells, “you’ve been fucking her for years.”

Changbin is in front of him, his hands on his chest, pushing him away from Felix and muttering calming words when Felix delivers the final blow.

“You’re just scared she won’t want you any more when she finally realises what an asshole you are. When she realises there’s someone much nicer out there.”

Minho thinks everyone in the room might hear his heart crack cleanly in two. He shoves Changbin to the side and lunges at Felix again, shoving him into the wall so hard he hears Felix’ head thunk against the wall, hears Felix’ hiss of pain. He can’t see Felix’ face, can barely make out the contours of the kitchen, tears of rage in his eyes blinding him. Changbin grabs him again, his arms locking around Minho’s middle, lifting him off the floor as he carries him away.

“I fucking hate you,” Minho screams, legs thrashing, trying to get out of Changbin’s iron grip. He barely recognises his own voice, so shrill and vengeful. Another tear makes a track down his burning cheeks, “we should’ve fucking left you there.”

The last thing he hears is Felix scoffing out in disbelief before Changbin is dragging him from the kitchen, through the mess and the living room, Minho kicking and screaming in his hold all the way up the first flight of stairs, until Changbin kicks open the door to Minho’s quarters and throws him onto his bed unceremoniously. He crosses his arms and fixes Minho with a look so stern that it makes Minho falter, stare back at him petulantly.

“Minho,” Changbin warns, his face harder than Minho has ever seen it. He suddenly feels very small. “Minho, whatever it is that’s got you so fucked up that you’re fighting your friends, sort it out before you do any more damage. This isn’t cool.”

Minho’s vision is blurry with tears, and he tries, but there’s no way to will them down any more. When he opens his mouth to speak, a pathetic sob tumbles out.

“What is it about Han Jisung that has you all so fucking infatuated?” he chokes out, venom spilling out between the tears that are now running down his cheeks freely, “why is everyone on his fucking side?”

“Huh?! Nobody is on anyone’s side, there are no si–“

“Yes, there are!” Minho screams, sits up enough so he can jab a finger in Changbin’s direction. “Ever since he arrived, he’s been turning everyone against me. Prissy little pretty boy waltzes in and I question his motivations, and you all make me out to be the bad guy? When all I wanted was to keep you safe, keep us safe, like I have done for years. Does that mean nothing to you? Do you know what I’ve given for this crew?”

“Minho, …” Changbin mutters, and Minho thinks he can see a flicker of uncertainty in Changbin’s eyes. It adds fuel to the fire burning him from the inside out.

“It’s good to know what you all fucking think of me. Go canoodle with your new boytoy. I hope he’s as good with a knife as I am because next time one of you gets jumped you better not count on me any more …”

Minho knows it’s extreme, knows deep in his heart that he would never abandon them. But he’s tired. He’s so hurt, his heart feels like it’s bleeding.

“Minho, …” Changbin says again, and it’s even softer this time. “We don’t … we don’t want to choose sides. We don’t hate you. You’re … Minho, our Minho. Yes, you made a wrong call the other day, but we all know why you did it. We never held it against you. We just don’t understand why you hate him so much. He’s a good guy. Actually, I think you two would get along really well, if you just gave it a chance.”

Minho tries to scoff, but it comes out as more of a hiccup. He refuses to look at Changbin, just shakes his head at the floor.

“Well, I’m glad he’s a good guy, hope that works out for you,” he spits, bitterness laced in his voice.

“How is that what you took from what I just said?” Changbin asks, but then gives up. The fact that he does is a dull pang in Minho’s heart. “Fine, we won’t talk about him now. I just need you to know that you’re loved. By us. By all of us. Do you understand?”

Minho hears the allusion to her, but he knows that Changbin’s wrong. Because she doesn’t love him. Not like he loves her. Suddenly, he’s bone tired, his whole body aches with it as he turns away.

“Get some sleep, Min. And tomorrow, you’ll apologise and Felix will apologise and all will be well again.”

There’s silence, like Changbin is waiting to see if Minho will find anything else to say, but he doesn’t. He sniffles into the silence, his body aching with a pain so deep he doesn’t know what to do with it. Before he can even look up, door closes softly and Minho crumbles.

When the captain knocks later that night, calls his name, her voice a soft balm that he wishes he could let soothe him to sleep, he’s still sitting on the floor next to his bed, his limbs shivering with the ache in his chest where his heart should be. He doesn’t respond, lets her think he’s asleep. She leaves after a few minutes and Minho hates himself.

Jisung had never seen Felix angry before and god, he hadn’t thought it could be this bad, not with Felix’s usual soft, sunny demeanour. But no. It was terrifying. His sugary sweet smiles replaced by withering scowls, all turned inwards, muttering curses under his breath.

Jisung had come to dinner and found Felix like that, refusing to speak more than a few words, staring at his plate stony. Jisung was just about to succeed in wordlessly staring at Seungmin for long enough to get him to ask Felix what had happened, when the doors opened and Changbin made his way to their table. His eyebrows were furrowed in worry, and it made Jisung even more worried.

“Did you throw him overboard?” Felix asked, bitterness laced in his voice. Changbin gave him a pointed look and shook his head. Felix scoffed, rolled his eyes. “Too bad.”

Changbin, faced with everyone else’s puzzled eyes boring into him, heaved out a sigh.

“Felix and Minho had … a fight,” he explained, but Felix almost immediately cut him off.

“We didn’t have a fight, Lee Minho barged into my kitchen and picked a fight, there’s very distinct difference,” he spat, but Changbin seemed to have had enough. He slammed a fist onto the table. Felix’ eyes went wide.

“He may have picked the fight, but you also said some more than nasty things, Felix,” he rebuked Felix, a whose face turned an angry red. “And now we are going to stop talking about this, before more people get hurt, got it?”

Felix gave him a nasty glare through the burning of his cheeks but didn’t fight Changbin, only picked up his still mostly full plate and disappeared into the kitchen. Jisung met Hyunjin’s eyes, but even he just shrugged, and Jisung did his best to drop it. Later, he quietly helped Felix do the dishes, ignoring the questions and worry burning on his tongue. Then he quietly followed Felix into their cabin, quietly undressed and got ready for bed, peeking out from behind his book as Felix climbed into his bed and murmured a good night.

But now it’s the morning and whatever Minho had done to upset Felix must’ve cut deep because when Jisung arrives at breakfast, Felix is glaring at the slice of bread on his plate and barely speaks, slamming the kitchen doors closed behind himself when he’s done.

So when Jisung is in the bath later that morning and Minho walks in? The tension in his body pulls tight, and he can feel the confrontation coming from a mile away.

Jisung had chosen the middle one of the three bathtubs in the bathroom today, had washed almost half a bar of the pine scented soap into the water before he sunk into it, his back to the door, letting the hot water soothe the strain right out of his muscles. He doesn’t open his eyes when he hears the door open and shut behind him. It was morning, after all, not unusual for the rest of the crew to start washing up. Though when the seconds tick by and there’s no other movement, Jisung starts wondering.

When he turns around, he makes eye contact with Minho, and Jisung’s body tenses up all over again.

He didn’t like being in the same room as Minho on any given day, but being here, in this small room, alone – it was more than uncomfortable. But true to his resolution, Jisung refused to budge, staring back at Minho defiantly, daring him to do something. After a few more seconds, Minho seems to make up his mind, his face hardening as he walks to the low bench and kicks off his boots.

Jisung frowns and settles back into the warmth of the water, sinking in until he can feel it tickle his earlobes. He forces his eyes to shut, but it’s hard when he can hear Minho move around the room, lighting the logs, passing by right behind Jisung to pick up a bar of soap, pouring water from the heater into the tub until he deems it full enough.

Jisung’s pretty sure Minho wouldn’t drown him in the public bathroom, but he can’t help but crack a careful eye open. Minho is facing away from him, testing the water with the tips of his fingers. Jisung is just about to close his eyes again before Minho can catch him, when Minho pulls his shirt over his head and Jisung’s eyes fly wide open.

His back is broad, milky skin pulled taut over planes of muscle that shift as his hands work the strings of his pants. With a shudder he notices the faded red tracks of nails running down from his shoulder blades, between the myriad of small, lighter scars dotted over his skin, and his whole face flushes when Minho shoves down his pants and the red marks trail down over his ass, round, perfect, flexing and jiggling a little as he moves in a way that has Jisung’s brain short-circuit a little bit, and then Minho turns around and …

Oh.

Oh, wow.

Minho’s hung. Even flaccid, his cock hangs hard and heavy and thick between his thick, muscled thighs, and Jisung blinks at it entirely stupidly for entirely too long before he forces his eyes up, past Minho’s abs and chiseled chest and dusty nipples (and a collection of love bites around his collarbones that make Jisung feel lightheaded) until his eyes meet Minho’s, who’s staring straight back at him with a condescending, shit-eating grin. There’s a darkness in his eyes that makes Jisung slightly uneasy, and he flinches, embarrassment flushing his face. But he sets his jaw, pretends he doesn’t care, glares at Minho, dares him to say something, but Minho just quirks an eyebrow and kicks his pants off the rest of the way and gets into the tub – facing him? Jisung blinks stupidly. Why the fuck is he facing him?!

Dumbfounded, Jisung tries not to, but he still watches every movement as Minho throws his leg over the side and gets into the tub, sinking into the hot water with a happy sigh that shoots straight between Jisung’s legs and makes his traitorous cock twitch slightly. Jisung gives Minho one last dirty look before he leans back, closes his eyes again, does his best to look calm and collected as he spends the next five minutes trying to talk down the semi he’s sporting just from looking at Minho. Stupid fucking Minho. Why did he have to be hot?! Though he supposes if the captain was sleeping with anyone, she would be …

The nail marks, the love bites. It confirms it, doesn’t it, Jisung thinks, and there’s an ugly stab of jealousy in his heart. Well, technically, they could be from anyone, but with everything he’s heard … Jisung has to suppress a shudder when his brain conjures up the image of her sinfully beautiful body under Minho, her heat, her soft, plush lips, object of his own wet dreams, wrapping tightly around Minho, fingers digging into his skin as he fucks her deep and hard with those thick thighs and that giant fucking cock of his that would probably feel so good against his prostate …

His traitorous cock responds happily, chubbing up even more, and Jisung huffs out in annoyance.

“Wow, you’re so annoying you’re annoying yourself? Go figure,” Minho ribs from the other tub. Jisung’s eyes fly open. Minho is lying back, annoyingly muscular arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed, an annoying smirk on his lips.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Jisung just grumbles out. He closes his eyes, leans back again, affecting an indifference as if his cock isn’t half hard and Felix’ anger isn’t bubbling through his veins.

“What? I’m not the one huffing and puffing at my own thoughts,” Minho says casually and Jisung snaps. He knows this will not end before he even finishes his first sentence.

“What is your problem, actually?!” he hisses, props his arms on the side of the tub and pulls himself up to a relaxed seat. “Are you trying to pick a fight with me, too, like you did with Felix last night?”

Minho’s eyes shoot open at that, and Jisung notes with satisfaction that his confidence wavers for a split second. But before he knows it, Minho’s eyes narrow again, and he leans back, pretending to get comfortable against the wooden wall of the tub.

“Jesus, it’s worse than I thought,” Minho says, “you’re like his little lapdog. Yap yapping away. All bark, no bite.”

Oh, this asshole.

“No bite, huh?” Jisung spits, sits up so fast the water laps against the side of the tub dangerously. At least it gets Minho to finally open his eyes properly. “The bruise on your jaw you carried around with you for two weeks told a different story.”

Minho huffs out a laugh.

“Nothing more than a pin prick. I’ve been stabbed, kid, your little fist hardly did any damage.”

“Well, that’s great to know, then next time I won’t hold back when you pick a fight with my friend.”

Minho raises an eyebrow at Jisung, fixing him with his dark eyes, and it’s a little intimidating, to have Minho’s whole attention like this. But

Jisung stubbornly refuses to waver.

“Your friend?”

Jisung falters, and Minho catches it immediately, digs his finger deeper into his weak spot.

“You’ve hardly been here for three months, you don’t know what friendship means on this ship, princess.”

Jisung is half out of the water before the hated nickname is even fully past Minho’s lips. A wave of water splashes onto the floor and Minho’s eyes seem to dip down to his newly exposed stomach, the dip of his waist, for just a split second. At least Jisung’s not hard any more.

“Fucking stop calling me that,” Jisung hisses. Minho raises both his eyebrows.

“Why? I call ‘em like I see ‘em.”

“You know full fucking well, why,” Jisung replies, his fingers digging into the side of the tub almost painfully, “you heard that fucker call me that the day you tried to get me killed, and you still decide to say it. You really are just a bad fucking person.”

Minho blinks at him, his face an unreadable mask. Without another word, he sits up, supports both his hands on the side of the tub and heaves himself out of the water. Jisung is speechless. Is he just going to walk away? He watches Minho towel his hair and scoffs out a disbelieving laugh. There’s no humour in it.

“What? Nothing?”

“I didn’t fucking try to get you killed,” Minho says, quietly, harshly.

Jisung shakes his head, heaves himself out of the tub as well, grabs his towel to wrap around his waist.

“Sure you didn’t,” he scoffs and Minho whips around, stares him down.

“All I do, everything I do, is to protect this ship, the captain, and the crew, okay? I didn’t know if I could trust you, so I kept you somewhere I could keep an eye on you. I was not going to let anything happen to you.”

Minho turns from him again, bending down to pick up his pants. Aggressively, he pulls them over his still damp legs. Jisung’s trembling with rage now, his fist balled at his side.

“Why would I believe you? You let that fucker punch me, you let him touch me.”

Jisung watches as Minho’s movements falter, watches his fingers tremble as he does up his pants. What does he have to be upset about? Jisung takes the moment to grab his own shirt, shrugging it over his shoulders, though it does little to quell the trembling of his body. He feels nauseous. The moist heat of the room makes him dizzy.

“Well, if you would stop fucking flinching away from me like I’m dangerous …” Minho starts, but his sentence trails off. Jisung scoffs in disbelief. He feels poisoned. Poisonous.

“You know, the captain always tells me that everyone on this ship is family, that you … we keep each other safe. Everyone keeps saying that you keep them safe. But I don’t feel safe.”

The sentence tumbles into the silence of the room, and Minho freezes. He looks like he’s been slapped. But Jisung isn’t done yet, the heaviness in his chest finally abating a little bit with every word of this he finally gets off his chest.

“I know you didn’t like me when I arrived. And that’s fine. But ever since then, you’ve shut down every single attempt of mine to bridge the gap between us. And then you tried to kill me …”

“I didn’t …” Minho whispers, but Jisung interrupts him, roughly.

“… you torment me by calling me what he called me, you leave every room I enter, refuse to even fucking look at me.”

Jisung would laugh at the fact that Minho even refuses to look at him now, only blinks at the floor, but there is no humour in this situation at all. Jisung feels broken open, red, and raw, in front of the guy who’s been making his life a living hell. Suddenly, Minho turns, grabs his shirt and pushes past Jisung. He shoves his feet into his boots and Jisung angrily realises that he just plans on leaving.

“Say something, you coward,” he curses, and Minho finally looks up at him. He looks devastated.

“I didn’t try to kill you, I … I didn’t realise that’s what that fucker called you … after my … after Felix … I … fuck, I_gut_ people like that, I cut them limb from limb, I would never … fuck,” he curses and rips open the door, makes down the hallway without even bothering to put his shirt on. Jisung follows him before he can think better of it.

He catches up with Minho only a few feet down the hallway, pulls him back by his arm and pushes him into the wall, hard.

“No, you don’t run away from this,” he spits and stares up at Minho, who’s unfortunately still a few inches taller than him. “Why do you hate me so much?”

Minho blinks at him, his lips slightly parted in surprise, bunny teeth peeking out from underneath his top lip in a way that makes him altogether less intimidating and then clamps his lips shut, furrows his eyebrows, stares at Jisung with a frustrated desperation in his eyes.

“I don’t fucking hate you!” he hisses out, “You’re one of us now, and I would give my life for you just like I would for every other person on this ship, but you hate me because you’re scared of me and I can’t even blame you because everything I do somehow … ends up wrong with you.”

Now it’s Jisung’s turn to stare blankly and Minho shoves him back until Jisung’s back hits the wall. Except this time, it doesn’t feel threatening, not when there are tears of frustration glistening in Minho’s eyes. He lifts his hand, jabs his index finger into Jisung’s chest, his erratic breath fanning over Jisung’s face and Jisung’s heart rabbits in his chest. A drop of water drips from Minho’s raven locks, runs down his neck, pools in the dip of his collarbone.

“I don’t know what it is about you, but you drive me fucking crazy,” Minho breathes out and Jisung’s body moves before he can even realise what he’s doing.

Both of his hands wrap around the back of Minho’s neck, and he pulls him down, straight into his own parted lips. Minho makes a choked sound in the back of his throat, but Jisung doesn’t let up, digs his fingernails into the skin of Minho’s neck, presses his lips against Minho’s harder. When his brain catches up to his body, he tries to pull away, but Minho doesn’t let him, pushes closer, crowds him against the wall, trapping Jisung’s body between his strong arms and slipping his tongue into Jisung’s mouth. Molten hot need bubbles in Jisung’s gut and he moans pathetically. One of his hands skates down Minho’s chest, smoothes over his hot skin, thumb catching on Minho’s nipple and Minho hisses into his mouth. But it seems to shock Minho out of whatever it is they’re doing because suddenly, he pulls back, stumbles back a few steps and stares at Jisung with wide eyes.

Where Jisung is flushed and embarrassingly hard underneath the towel around his waist, Minho is deathly pale, and he doesn’t look okay at all. Jisung’s stomach drops.

“Minho?” he whispers, as gentle as he can.

Minho blinks rapidly, shakes his head, takes a few shaky steps backwards, before he turns and flees, runs up the stairs.

Hurried footsteps sound behind you as you push open the door to your office. You whirl around and come face to face with a flushed, wide-eyed Chan.

“Jesus, is everything okay?” you ask, your heart in your throat at how panicked Chan looks.

“Captain, I …” he starts, before he turns around, checking if there’s anyone behind him, “you have to promise me you won’t be angry with me for telling you this, but I can’t not tell you. Like, you’re our captain, you have the right to know, even though he will kill me for this.”

There’s a blind panic running through your veins as you stare at Chan.

“Chan, if you don’t tell me right now…”

“I saw Minho and Jisung kiss. Downstairs. Outside of the baths."

< chapter IV - chapter VI >

series masterlist // skzms masterlist // kofi

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#stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #skz x reader #skz smut #minsung x reader #lee know x reader #lee know smut #han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #stray kids hard thoughts #lee know hard thoughts #skz hard thoughts #han jisung hard thoughts #minsung hard thoughts #skz x you #stray kids x you #lee know x you #han jisung x you #stray kids fanfic

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aisnextdoor · 7 months ago

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DISJOINTED - han taesan x reader

there are far worse things to be addicted to

PAIRING: taesan x reader GENRE: established relationship, fluff | WORDCOUNT: 1.7 k WARNINGS: weed/marijuana use, smooching, minimally suggestive

The high hits you slowly, then all at once. Each time you double over to echo Jaehyun’s laughter at Riwoo’s jokes, your consciousness moves first and your body follows, slow and stilted.

There’s a fuzziness behind your eyes, like the static of Taesan’s old records that has you reeling, head tilting back against the seat of the scratchy sofa.

You stay like that for a bit, letting your thoughts drown out the faint hum of noises bouncing around the walls of Leehan’s basement. Thinking of nothing and everything. Losing yourself in the haze.

There's a drag of cold fingertips against your cheeks, wandering to tuck your stray hairs behind your ear, that brings you back. The same touch tugs at the lobe gently to coax your eyes open.

You’re rewarded with a glimpse of Taesan’s soft eyes as he takes you in. The lazy smile that pulls a bit wider at your lips, and the breathless laugh that escapes them as you reach out for him instinctively.

Taesan obliges, like he always does, scooping you up from your spot on the floor to flop unceremoniously half on the sofa, half on his lap.

“You’re finally here. I missed you, you took fucking forever,” you complain with a stifled yawn. A swift kiss is pressed to your cheek, the silent apology accepted with a roll of your eyes.

“You can't possibly have missed me that much. Looks like you were having tons of fun on your own, getting started without me,” Taesan teases. His hands slide under the hem of your shirt to rub at the small of your back, snorting as you jolt at the icy temperature.

You try to wiggle away from his frosty touch but Taesan only snakes his arms around you tighter, trailing goosebumps across your skin. “I didn't have much choice,” you grumble, “It was either smoke or have Jaehyun hog and finish it all before I can even get a whiff.”

There's a faint yell of indignation from across the room that you ignore, instead busying yourself with untangling Taesan’s chains. You follow and separate the twists in the links up towards his neck. Your boyfriend stills his motions, busying himself instead with admiring the way your brows knit as you pull them apart.

(It was a mystery to you how Taesan’s necklaces always managed to get so tangled. You could never recall him having such problems before you started dating. Luckily for him, you were more than happy to indulge his whims and untangle them at the beginning of every meeting.)

When you’re nearly done, and you've reached the nape of his neck, the pads of your fingers brush against the long strands of Taesan’s overgrown hair. They come back cold, and you freeze looking up to blink at him owlishly, “your hair’s wet,” you say, voice tinged with bewilderment.

Taesan leans back in a laugh, hands too occupied holding your waist to shield his smile like they normally would. “You’ve only just realized?” He shakes his head like a dog, spraying you with the remnants of the droplets that cling to his bangs.

The splatter of cold beads makes you shriek and once again you try to cringe away from him but Taesan keeps you firmly in his grasp, smirking as you resign yourself to your captivity. “I showered before I rushed over here,” his voice teasing as he raises an eyebrow at you, “how far gone are you that you didn't even notice?”

It's futile to deny it when your eyes are so clearly rimmed red and your head so far in the clouds but you do it anyway. “I'm not that high,” you wink, “I was just too distracted by your pretty face to pay attention to anything else.”

Taesan simply snorts, unconvinced but amused enough to not contest your obvious lies. He settles into the couch, resting his head atop yours and a comfortable silence descends upon you. Drowsiness tugs at you and you melt with your head lolled in the crook of his neck while the pair of you watch the antics of the others.

Normally, you'd be thrown in the mix, bickering with Jaehyun and playing tricks on Sungho, but the high has you choosing to refrain from participating. Instead, you’re buried in Taesan’s arms, refusing to shift from his lap even when he jokingly whines about being suffocated and crushed.

Past all the exaggerated groans, Taesan loves nights like this when you’re pliant, putty in his hands and clinging to him like a second skin. Taesan is free to monopolize you without any teasing remarks. Relishing instead the way you shake with laughter at the jokes he whispers into the shell of your ear, and the giggles he draws from you when he noses at your neck playfully.

“Alright lovebirds, if you’re done being gross, I rolled the last of it. We’re headed out to grab some pizza if you two want to come,” Leehan approaches with a joint held out in his grasp. You immediately perk up, reaching for it eagerly when a much longer arm intercepts, grabbing it before you can blink.

“You guys can go, we’ll stay here. Y/N is more out of it than usual,” Taesan interjects, ignoring the way your jaw drops and the subsequent protests that follow. The whole time he holds the joint firmly out of your reach as you wrestle the limb down to try and take it.

The commotion is enough to attract Jaehyun's attention, and he descends upon you like a hyena. “Awww little baby Y/N can't hang?” His laughter rings mockingly through your ears as he pinches your cheek.

You splutter at the accusation, staring at Taesan to see if he was really going to let your dignity be slandered like this. “Taesan you're not serious?” you whine, trying to shake reason into him as the rest of the boys file out of the basement with calls of goodbyes and laughs.

“I am serious, I’m not gonna let you smoke yourself sick baby,” Taesan shakes his head, easily slipping in the pet name now that it was only the two of you. You give up on arguing any further, making your displeasure apparent with the way you cross your arms tightly, refusing to face him.

Taesan only chuckles in amusement at your petty display, digging into the pocket of jeans for his lighter. He dangles it in front of you, the familiar scuffs marring the engraved silver. “Wanna do me the honors?” his eyebrows wiggle goadingly.

There's a brief silence as your narrowed eyes ping pong between the smirk on his face and the lighter, your initials that Taesan had etched into it staring back at you mockingly. With a tortured sigh you snatch it from him, “I can’t believe you’re making me light you a joint that you won't even let me smoke,” you grumble.

“But if I light it myself you’d end up sulking because I didn't ask,” he snorts, knocking his head softly into yours. You don't bother responding (mostly because he’s right), busying yourself by popping the cap off and flicking the lighter on.

Taesan ducks closer to let the tip of the roll between his teeth meet the flame, the fire casting a warm light across the contours of his face. His eyes flicker up to meet yours and you're trapped in the warm amber of his gaze, remembering just why this was one of your favorite things to do.

The soothing chill of his fingers wraps around yours to hold the lighter steady until a tendril of smoke rises between you two and he’s leaning back with a content hum.

It's a captivating sight, the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he inhales. The smoke billowing from Taesan’s plump lips to curl and swirl upwards, charting the lines of his features. You can see the moment he takes to assess you, mulling over an idea while you patiently wait for him to share what's occupying his mind.

His answer comes in the form of hands tracing your jaw to pull you in closer, fingers tilting your chin upwards. There’s a gentle tap on your lower lip prompting you to part them, you comply and Taesan grants you a pleased smile at your uncharacteristic obedience.

It makes your cheeks burn with an odd satisfaction, but you have little time to think further as Taesan takes a deep drag of the joint, your chin still firmly in his grasp. He leans in, pausing to wordlessly ask your permission and when you lean closer, he meets you halfway.

There’s a quick brush of his lips against yours, lingering for just a second till he’s exhaling. And Instinctively you inhale, the whisper’s distance between you bridged by a stream of smoke.

You hold it in the back of your throat for a moment before letting go, and in the same breath you rush to tease him airily, “I thought I was banned from smoking for tonight, your highness.”

Taesan slides his hand from your chin down towards your nape, his touch sweeping against your jaw. “Well… you looked so pitiful I decided to have mercy on you,” he drawls, eyes glinting mischievously in the dim light.

“Yeah right,” you scoff, “More like you just wanted an excuse to kiss me.”

Taesan shrugs, looking far from bashful as he admits smugly, “Not that I need an excuse to kiss you but sure, that might have been a motivator.”

And now you’re breathless for a different reason as Taesan takes full advantage of the complaints that threaten to spill from your lips, silencing them instead with a firm press of his mouth on yours.

The minutes pass by like that, the two of you caught in languid kisses, only separating for much needed air or for a heatless glare when Taesan bites at you teasingly.

The joint’s long abandoned, lost somewhere in the crevices of the couch to be found weeks later. For there's no high quite as intoxicating or as addicting as the one you get from Taesan’s lips.

a/n: this started as a 2 am brain rot that I ended up spending way too much time on. hope u enjoyed :)

stream HOW? n EWF!!! n tell me ur fav song off the album (mine's amnesia)

#boynextdoor scenarios #boynextdoor imagines #kflixnet #k labels #taesan x reader #taesan imagines #Taesan scenarios #boynextdoor x reader #Taesan X you #boynextdoor fic #taesan fluff

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yanderestarangel · 1 year ago

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HEADKANONS BI HAN | SUB ZERO MK1 WITH S/O

A/N: I'm going to write headcanons about all the men in MK, I'm going to write one shots, fanfic, I'm going crazy and more horny for each one of them... I'm gay as f*ck. Do you want to make a request? Read my blog rules in the pinned post.

TW: sfw, headcanons in general, afab reader, smut.

He is an aggressive lover. I mean, he's not going to hit you or anything, but he's extremely cold (I laughed after remembering that he's fucking sub zero lol), he's the type to talk the basics, even to you, so don't do it "silly" questions for him, if he's okay or if he ate, he'll answer: "-I'm here in front of you so obviously I'm fine." "-Don't worry, I know how to take care of myself, I'm not a child."

He likes to show his love for you through actions, like buying you something you've been wanting for a while, like giving you a bouquet of flowers, small but meaningful, Bi-Han doesn't know how to express love for anyone, I'm sorry, But it's the truth, but he tries for you, even if it's not the best.

Bi-Han cares about you even if he doesn't express it, he knows that he is a frustrated and wrong man in several actions, even if he wants to lie to himself that he doesn't, you both know that, but if you haven't given up on him, and You're still on his side, it means you love him, and he values that.

Bi Han won't let you work outside of his sight, that is, he will want you at home, you can beg or try to argue, he will say: "-Your job is to be my husband/wife, take care of our house, me and yourself, I can't allow you to go around." -He spoke calmly, but seriously, and that was really his thought, he just wants you to be close to him, he is afraid, terrified, of losing you one day. -

Bi Han is insecure, even if he never admits it, he gets jealous very quickly, he knows that you are a beautiful person, so he knows that many ninjas lust after you, even though you are married to him, so please don't flirt with other men or women, this man is capable of crazy things and the silent treatment he will give you after that will be for an indefinite period of time.

You are always on his mind in every mission, Kuai Liang and Tomas sometimes notice their grandmaster looking into space and perhaps, a transparent smile appears quickly, while Bi-Han looks at the landscape on the horizon, thinking about you. "-I hope (Y/N) is okay" -He said to himself, shaking his head soon after and returning to the mission.

When he notices that you are sad he becomes worried, but he just crosses his arms under his chest, and looks at you waiting for an explanation for such behavior, if you are upset about something that someone from the Lin Kuei clan did to you, consider that person dead, your grand master husband will immediately leave the house forming a deadly ice dagger in his hand, returning some time later, with a determined and blood-stained look. "-Okay, wipe your tears, the problem has already been solved, let's have dinner." -He spoke seriously and calmly, as he wiped the blood from his hands on a cloth, heading to the kitchen with heavy steps and giving you a look, so you could follow him.

Bi-Han lies down on the bed next to you, but he can't sleep for several nights, he finds himself watching you, your face so peaceful next to him, the ninja monster of the lin kuei, you look so good and comfortable next to him, he really wonders why you married him, you deserve someone better.

He covers you more with the sheet, caressing your cheek lightly with his thumb, while whispering on rare occasions, that he loved you.

"-I really love you, you know that? I'm sorry I'm not the best man for you (Y/N), I really want you forever by my side, and I'll protect you from this world, whatever the cost, what do I do and for me and for you." -Bi Han told you while you slept, he placed a chaste kiss on your forehead, while looking at the moon soon after, it would be another night that he would be haunted by his own demons.

Bi-Han's favorite couple's activity with you is strolling to a lake on the Lin Kuei clan's estate, sitting with you on the cool grass as the two of you watch nature, the swans on the lake, the cloudy sky announcing an upcoming rain. would soon come, the trees swaying to the rhythm of the wind, as Bi Han talked about his mother, he really loved her, and he is happy to see that you were really interested in listening, as he talked about childhood memories, making little sculptures of ice with his fingertips to represent the story he told, it's these moments with you that make everything he did, even the cruelest things, worth it.

He may not be loyal to the clan, but he is to you. He's the type that if someone comes at him, he has to be held back so he doesn't punch them for such audacity. Ex:

"-Bi Han, are you going to come with us-"

"-I'm a married man"

"-Bi Han, we just asked-"

"-I'm a married man, I told you." -He says pointing to the wedding ring and leaving. They were just going to ask him to drink a little, but as Bi Han said, he is a married man to you.

He doesn't like nicknames, only during sex, other than that he will call you by your name, or "my husband/my wife", he likes the idea of being called "husband" by you too, so if you If you refer to him like that, in public, he will melt inside, and smile slightly sideways behind the mask.

He is a wild man in bed, taking out his frustrations and anger on your beautiful pussy, mouth and body in general.

Bi Han loves blowjobs, if he could, you would be kneeling between his legs 24 hours a day, with your pretty face taking his entire cock in your mouth - I feel sorry for you dear, this man's cock is big and thick, he's literally going to hit it down your throat easily, leaving you breathless while your husband enjoys watching you choke on his dick like that -

He likes to degrade you in sex, it's a way for him to mark you as his and release his frustrations too, he will fuck you roughly, especially fucking you with his dick stuck in your pussy, with him lifting you easily while his hips they aggressively pound against your tight hole.

"-You're a great slut, you know? Taking my cock like a desperate bitch."

"-Oh fuck, you feel so good, don't you? Your pussy was made for me, the grand master lin kuei, and only mine, only I deserve you, do you hear? I'm just going to fuck that beautiful pussy until you can only think about how You want my dick inside you."

"-Do I really have a little whore as my husband/wife? How lucky for me then."

"-I'm going to fill you up... I'm going to fill that tight pussy of yours, and you want that, don't you? You want every drop of my cum, you're a hungry slut."

He loves to call you: "slut", "dirty bitch", "private whore", "nymph", "good boy/girl with a tight pussy". Most of the sex sessions you have with Bi Han end with him cumming on your face, pussy or belly, painting everything with his cum and leaving you panting with your legs shaking - for him, sex really is only good when you are weak from cumming on his dick, and overstimulated, with a swollen clitoris - He loves many sexual positions, but he prefers:

Cowgirl’s Helper: He likes to see you on top of him, your hands on his chest, while one of his hands squeezes your ass, and the other is behind his head. Bi Han watches you get impaled on his dick, stretching your pussy slowly, as your pussy drools on his pulsing dick, he looks at you, smiling smugly when he sees the rise of his dick in your womb. He would just groan in response to your desperate moans, watching your body move as you whimpered to cum - he wasn't going to let you cum yet, and if you did, he was going to punish the hell out of you, giving you at least five painful orgasms and pleasant that night -

Stand and Deliver: He loves seeing you bent over, your waist is sore from being bent over for him, but he loves seeing your ass and waist on top, thrusting into your pussy while pulling your hands behind your back, he would go so hard on your hole that your feet would leave the ground, you could feel the burn of the speed of Bi Han's dick in your pussy, but he wouldn't stop, he wouldn't stop until he left you a trembling mess full of cum - while calling you a desperate slut his cock -

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