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~Home to all my rebloobs~ Call me Aeyla |25| Gemini ☼ Cancer ☽

[yungistiny]

it’s literally match made in hell yunho

[aeyla]

Arrest him rn

[havenhyunjin]

situationship — stray kids

— you should know better that to keep this situationship going, but at least you’re self aware.

warnings: nsfw themes!

☼☽⋆｡°✧ ✧⋆°｡☾☼

[wolfchans]

bestie, beloved, best leader ♡

[vxlvted]

pussy drunk!bang chan

pussy drunk!chan who is absolutely addicted to you. the moment he gets a taste, it’s over for him. he would start all slow and controlled, wanting to savor your reactions. but the second you moan his name or tug at his curls, his self control shatter.

he’s sloppy with it, getting so into it, he doesn’t care about how messy he gets. lips and chin completely covered but he loves it. he practically drowns himself between your thighs, gripping them so tightly as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

he gets lost in you, moaning against your skin, eyes fluttering shut. when eventually pulls away for air, his voice is breathless, pupils blown wide. “You taste so fucking good, baby” he groans before diving back in like he’s starved.

he’s always talking between kisses, between long strokes of his tongue. whispering how much he loves this, how good you are for him, how he never wants to stops. when you pull his hair or grind against his face—his nose rubbing hard your clit—he whimpers, low and desperate like he’s the one being ruined.

if you try to push him away when it gets too much, he won’t budge. his arms will lock around your thighs, keeping you there as he murmurs “Just one more, baby…. just one more for me.” but it’s never just one more. once isn’t enough. twice isn’t enough. he could spend the entire night between your thighs and still wants more. he’ll kiss his way back up your body, his lips swollen and voice husky and plead, “again?”

he gets smug when your legs start to shake. he open his eyes briefly to watch as you grab at the sheets, his shoulders, your pillow, at anything you can. he loves watching you fall apart for him, because of him. “That’s it, let me hear you.”

and there’s no way he isn’t turned on while doing this. he gets hard from just eating you out. if he has you on your back, he’s grinding into the mattress, into the sheets. if he’s got you sitting on his face, he’s rutting up into nothing, only feeling the slight shift of his sweatpants when his hips thrust upwards. sometimes, he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until he gets embarrassingly close.

If you ever just grab his hair and hold him there, he’s a goner. his moans get louder. vibrating against your folds. I’m a firm believer in Chan being a pleasure dom. he loves making you feel good, that includes you using him for your pleasure.

I’m also a firm believer in Chan having a praise kink. I feel like he’d rather be praised than degraded. the second you call him good—your good boy, good baby—he loses it. gripping your thighs even harder, pulling you closer and working his tongue even faster to make you come undone. He lives for your praise, and he’ll do anything to earn it.

once he’s finally had enough, he’s pressing soft kissing into your thighs, rubbing soothing circles into your skin as you slow your breathing. he’d be so gentle afterwards, holding you close and whispering how perfect you are, how much he loves you. and if you let him, he’s falling asleep with his head still inbetween your thighs, completely spent but happy.

Taglist:

If you’d like to be put on (or taken off) the taglist, feel free to let me know!

@yaorzu-blog

dividers from @/saradika-graphics

[pixies-favourites]

ah yes munch!Chan, my biggest weakness...

[aeyla]

Munch!chan munch!chan munch!chan

[foxytoxxic]

just another tuesday | bang chan

· best friends | fuckboy!chan x afab!reader · summary - day in the life with Chan, your fuckboy bestie · wc - 10ss · cw - a lot of swearing. that's pretty much it, i think. (lmk if i missed something but i think that's it) · a/n - i'll probably make this a series if i get bored enough. i have to be bored enough tho or it'll never happen. stay hydrated btw.

"An organized slut"

಄ more fake texts

಄ masterlist

[minkieater]

gratitude & blame go hand-in-hand for jung wooyoung

🎤︎︎ wooyoung x fem!reader | college au series, part 13/? 🎤︎︎ 18+ | 6.6k words | reader is the host of a sex podcast, wooyoung is a frat boy whore, yunho is an angel sent from heaven above

WOOYOUNG SLEPT. And slept, and slept, and fucking slept. It felt like the blink of an eye, leaving the Penny, collapsing in his bed still covered in clothes, waking up the next morning too exhausted to go to the gym. Even after hours of uninterrupted sleep he felt unrested, like he could sleep for twelve more. 

He stayed awake for an hour, scrolling on his phone, opening and closing different social media platforms until his eyes started drifting closed again. He dreamt— he dreamt of something funny, something so funny he couldn’t breathe, clutching his stomach and choking on his spit. He dreamt of you, you laughed with him, tears streaming down your cheeks because neither of you could stop. 

Sleep was no longer comforting, no longer safe. He jolted awake, pushing himself off the mattress, he started hanging his clothes back up half-asleep, body moving on auto pilot. Something to do with his hands. 

He hears it, hands going still, spine rigid. Your laugh, all the way downstairs on the main floor, in the kitchen or the living room. It swims up through the vents, it sneaks under his door, it surrounds him and he’s drowning in it and he doesn’t understand why his life keeps boiling down to you you you. 

He stands there, staring into nothing, listening. Trying to see if he can map out any words, if he can hear the conversation downstairs, who and what has you sounding so bright. Fuck that. He showers, just for noise. Then he puts his headphones on, drowns himself in assignments instead just to keep his brain busy. Then when he feels like it’s been long enough–hopefully now the house is empty–he finally goes downstairs. 

Voices get louder with every step down the stairs, two. Four. He looks in the living room first, Hongjoong and Seonghwa sitting on the couch, laptops open, arguing about an assignment. Something they’re doing together. In the kitchen is Yunjin and San, giggling while mixing something in a bright orange bowl together, but they both stop laughing as soon as they see him. 

Yunjin starts, “Damn–”

San finishes, “Did someone die? Why do you look like shit?”

Wooyoung doesn’t change his expression, just a flat, blank stare. He gruffs out, “I didn’t sleep well.” 

“Clearly,” San huffs a laugh, shaking his head as he keeps mixing whatever’s in the bowl. 

“Is there a reason why?” Yunjin leaves the bowl to San, leaning her elbows onto the counter, slyly lifting her features. 

“No,” Wooyoung answers instinctively, defensively. He can feel her look, it’s hinting at something he doesn’t want to fucking hear. “I have a heavy workload right now.”

“Right,” Yunjin gives him a slow nod. “Assignments.”

San’s eyes peek upward from beneath his brows, glancing back and forth between Wooyoung and Yunjin. “What am I missing?”

Wooyoung moves for the cabinets, searching for the blender so he can make a protein shake; he needs something to do other than stand there and be fucking victim to Yunjin’s knowing eyes. The two of them didn’t even see him at the Penny last night. 

“Nothing,” she assures San, sticking her finger in the bowl, licking her finger. If he wasn’t so fucking hungry he’d leave the kitchen, instead he throws the blender on the counter and begins his hunt for ingredients. 

“Don’t eat the batter, Jen,” San hisses, tugging the bowl away from her. “Oh my god, you’re actually gonna eat it all.” 

“No I’m not!” she argues, leaning toward where he pulled it away. “One more. One more. Please?” 

San sighs, sliding the bowl toward her. Giddy as hell, she sticks her finger in again, licking it off. Wooyoung watches it all out of the corner of his eye, hoping they stay distracted. 

Of course not. Yunjin, that same sly grin painted on her cheeks again, turns toward Wooyoung. “So… What do you think about Yunho and my sweet baby angel being non-exclusive?” 

San picks his head up, immediately cutting it toward Wooyoung, brows tied together. 

He wants to sigh. He shrugs instead. “Good for them?” 

Yunjin’s eyes flare with amusement, grin growing wider. “You think so? I mean, she’s never been in that kind of relationship before, this is all pretty new for her.” 

Wooyoung’s jaw clenches as he shoves shit into the blender. “Again, good for her. I’m sure she’ll have a great time.” 

Yunjin’s grin turns borderline devilish. “She seemed to have a great time with Jihyo.”

Wooyoung slams the lid onto the blender harder than intended and slams his finger on the button. That was a little more intentional. He doesn’t dare look at Yunjin, but he can hear her giggling. 

“What am I missing?” San asks again, louder so Wooyoung can hear over the whirling of the blender. “I feel left out. Include me. Address me.” 

Wooyoung crosses his arms, leaning into the opposite side of the counter, and lets it run. San slides over, pressing the stop button, then puts his hands on his hips as he turns to Wooyoung. He doesn’t say anything, but his brows sit high. 

“Ask Jen,” Wooyoung points all five fingers toward Yunjin. “She’s the one who won’t just say what she wants to fucking say.” 

Yunjin sighs, defeated like he’s ruining her fucking joke or something. “Fine,” she stands a little straighter, bracing both hands on the counter behind her. “I wanted to know if that’s why you look so sad. Jihyo… Yunho.” 

“Why would that make him sad?” San asks, at the same time as Wooyoung asks, “Why would that make me sad?”

Yunjin blinks at San, then furrows her brows when she looks at Wooyoung. “Do you tell him anything?” 

Wooyoung pushes off the counter, “What did she tell you?”

“So there are things I don’t know,” San interjects, offended. “Why am I out of the fucking loop? One of you has about four seconds to fill me in on everything I don’t know.” Yunjin’s mouth doesn’t move, Wooyoung couldn’t speak if he tried. He wouldn’t know where to start. San’s eyes narrow as they bounce back and forth between him and Yunjin. “I’m trying really hard not to be hurt right now, someone tell me something for fuck’s sake.”

“I’m not sad,” Wooyoung finally answers, crossing his arms over his chest again. “She can fuck the whole campus for all I care, I’ve done it already.”

“But she didn’t fuck you,” Yunjin says plainly, then her lips scrunch like she regrets the way it came out. Wooyoung stiffens as the words sink in, cutting through his defense like a fucking blade. Quickly, she adds, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

Wooyoung can see San’s jaw slowly drop from the corner of his eye, and he feels like time has frozen for just a second as clarity cuts him wide open, his emotions showing in his wounded expression. It stings and he doesn’t fucking know why, her words sit heavy on his chest, they tie a knot at the base of his spine. His fists clench at his sides.

“Wooyoung,” Yunjin says carefully, her voice soft, another apology in the form of his name. 

He doesn’t know what to say. How to defend himself. All he can do is shake his head, “It’s fine.” 

He turns to the blender, pushes the button lighter this time. The loud noise it makes when it comes to life sounds a lot like the whirring in his mind. His bones feel heavy, his chest twists, his mouth runs dry. What the fuck is going on in his body?

Yunjin doesn’t press him any more, thankfully. San’s eyes are on alert, like the moment Wooyoung steps out of the kitchen he’s going to ask her for every detail imaginable. Fine. Wooyoung doesn’t care if he knows, but he wonders… he wonders what she’ll say. What you told her. 

He leaves the kitchen after pouring his shake into a cup, dragging his heavy bones back up to his bedroom. He barely drinks it, he showers again to wash the feeling off his skin, but he can’t scrub it off. His noise-cancelling headphones can’t even drown out his loud fucking brain. He can’t escape when he’s sleeping, he can’t escape when he’s fucking awake, he cannot live like this. 

He doesn’t realize how long he’s been in his room until he looks at the time at the top of his phone screen. He doesn’t even remember choosing to lay down on his bed again. He isn’t one to doomscroll for hours on the regular, but one video turned into another, and he supposes he needs the stupid videos today, because for the first time in hours, his brain feels quiet again. He stretches when he gets out of bed, grabbing his gym bag before dragging his body down the stairs. 

He grabs a banana from the kitchen island before walking out to the living room, stopping in his tracks when he sees Yunho and Mingi cuddled up on the couch, watching TV. Yunho’s laying halfway across Mingi, so comfortable, so normal it makes his stomach heavy. The two together isn’t surprising at all, but he can’t wrap his mind around how you went from someone who only allowed herself committed relationships to someone who’s okay with… this. Are you even fucking okay with it? Why didn’t you tell him? Isn’t he the person you come to for shit like this?

Mingi notices him first, eyeing him over the back of the couch, his dark hair unstyled and shaggy. “You headed to the gym?” 

Yunho’s head perks up as Wooyoung forces his voice into calmness, “Yeah. They close soon, want to run a little.”

“Run outside,” Mingi mutters, bringing his attention back to the TV. 

“Wait, that’s perfect, we’re all going over to Yunjin’s in a little.” Wooyoung can hear the stretch in Yunho’s voice, how his body is turned almost all the way around, blonde hair raggedy like Mingi was pulling on it. He wonders if you’d notice if you saw it. “Can you drive my sunshine girl home? You can come if you want.” 

“Nah, I’m good,” Wooyoung doesn’t miss a beat replying. Then he quirks a brow, “Her car isn’t fixed yet? Have you been driving her everywhere like her personal chauffeur?”

“Don’t be an asshole,” Yunho gruffs out. “Yes or no?”

His chest feels tight all fucking over again. “You don’t want to?” 

“It just makes more sense,” Yunho looks confused, like the answer is obvious. “Do you have somewhere to be?”

Wooyoung’s jaw clenches. “No,” he shakes his head, his body feels so fucking weird. “Yeah, I can take her. It’s fine.” 

“Thanks,” Yunho grins. “We’ll miss you later.” 

“You’ll be fine without me,” Wooyoung says through a breath before leaving through the front door.

Music plays full-blast through his car speakers. He doesn’t understand what the fuck happened in the time span of like, three fucking days. Three fucking days. You looked like you meant it, that night when you were a few inches away from where he’s sitting now, looking in his eye and telling him you want him. What did you want, then? Did you just want to kiss him? Did you just want to fuck him?

Why the fuck does that bother him so much? Why is he losing his goddamn mind?

His gut is still wrenching as he rips open the door to the gym. His palms feel sweaty against the metal handle, electricity in his fingertips, even his breathing is a little shallow. It’s instinct, taking two steps inside, his gaze darting to the counter. There’s a tall man with dark hair standing at the counter, leaning into it too casually, and just behind it he catches the tail end of you dropping to the floor, your hair moving a millisecond behind your body. 

“You’re kidding,” he whispers, fully under his breath. Did you just fucking duck? Are you hiding from him? Are you actually fucking joking?

You’ve worked at this gym for an entire year. A whole fucking year. And never once has Choi Soobin walked through the jingling doors, dressed in sweats and a tee like he belongs here or something. 

You haven’t seen him since that night in his condo when you walked in on Yeonjun and Beomgyu. But he looks the same, of course he does, mousey face, knowing eyes like secrets exist just for him to fucking find them out. The sight of him makes your blood boil, jaw clenching, eyes slanting like you could blow him up with your fucking mind.

You speak as soon as he’s close enough to hear. “The fuck are you doing here?”

It invokes a sly grin immediately. “I thought I’d come get a membership. It’s not expensive, right?”

You step back when he leans his elbows over the counter, peeking over it to see what’s behind. You hiss, “You’ve never worked out a day in your life, Soobin.”

“Maybe I want to start.” When he looks back up at you, a chill runs down your spine. “Sell me one. Do you make a commission?”

“No,” you answer, voice venomous. “It’s a commercial gym.”

“Damn,” he tugs his lips to one side, maybe pouty. “I wanted to make your paycheck a little fatter.”

“What are you doing here, Soobin?” You cross your arms over your chest, jaw tight. “If you’re here to watch another unveiling of a cheating scandal, I hate to break it to you, but I’m not dating anyone.”

“No?” His head tilts, a snarky smile stretching his lips thin. “Not even zip-tie Yunho?”

“We’re not exclusive,” you snap. “What does it matter to you?”

“Maybe I just wanted to hear your voice,” he pushes off the counter to stand up straight, shrugging. You can feel his height, head tilting upward to hold his eye. “Your real voice.” Your brows furrow, head tilting, ready to ask what the fuck he means, but he cuts off your thoughts. “Since when are you into non-committal shit, anyway?”

“Since now,” you answer, then your body does a full, disgusted shiver as his words sink in. “You wanted to hear my voice? Are you hitting on me, you fucking douchebag?”

He smirks, a small laugh tumbling off his tongue. “No, I’m not hitting on you. What made you switch sides? I heard a whisper about you and Park Jihyo.”

Your face warps into even more confusion. “Who did you hear that from?”

“It’s a small campus,” he shrugs. “I know lots of people.”

Now you’re just irritated. “Why the fuck do you even care? You’re like, speaking in fucking tongues, Soobin, spit it the fuck out.”

Soobin opens his mouth just as the front door jingles, and you catch the slightest glimpse of golden skin and black hair before your knees fold. Your heart drops to your ass, then your ass drops to the fucking floor. You’ve been wondering when you were going to see him since he rejected you in his car, but god, you could have had more time. You could have at least figured out what you’re going to say before you saw him.

Soobin’s head peeks over the counter, brows furrowed but eyes amused. “Are you good?”

“Go,” you whisper-yell, shooing him off with one hand. “Get the fuck away!”

Then Wooyoung’s head leans over the counter right beside his. He pops a brow, head tilting like a fucking dog, “Virgin?”

You force a smile, an awkward one at best. “I dropped something,” you blurt, then look beneath you at the spotless floor. You lean forward, praying to god your knees cover you grabbing whatever the fuck you can get your hands on from the bottom shelf. Holding it up, you pray to god it is what you think it is as you try to back yourself up, “A stapler. See?”

“That’s tape,” Soobin corrects you. 

You wince as you look at the tape dispenser. You stand back up too quickly, ignoring how your head goes light as you plaster a smile back on your face, “That’s what I meant. Tape.”

The corner of Wooyoung’s mouth lifts in a grin. “And what are you taping?”

You look around the desk that you’ve already cleaned twice, you can’t bullshit your way out of this. Instead you sigh, defeated, “Your mouth fucking shut.”

Wooyoung’s head turns to hide his laugh while Soobin’s eyes bounce back and forth between you. His lips scrunch like he’s figured something else out, and he taps one hand against the counter in farewell. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Never, please,” you shout in his direction as he turns on his heel, heading for the front doors again.

The jingle announcing his departure feels louder than usual. Your jaw clenches before you run both hands through your hair, pushing a long, heavy breath through your lips. Wooyoung is still present, hand resting on the strap of his gym bag, looking amused as fuck. 

“Oh, what?” you huff, irritated. “Is it annoy-me day? Is everyone gathering here just to bother me?”

His smirk grows. “You ducked.”

You push your shoulders back. “I did not duck.”

“You fucking ducked,” Wooyoung repeats, his laughter following. “You hid from me, you ducked. Why’d you duck, Virgin? Don’t wanna see me?”

“I dropped the tape!” your pitch raises, picking up the tape dispenser again. It’s a bullshit lie and you both know it, but it just makes Wooyoung laugh harder. “Oh, fuck right off. Go fucking run, you asshole.”

He’s still laughing as he turns away, he gives you a little wave over his shoulder, too. When he’s out of earshot you turn around, groaning, running your hands over your face like a child who’s about to throw a goddamn tantrum. Great. Now you have to get a new fucking job, far away enough that nobody will recognize you.

What’s worse is that you still have to do your job, the actual shit that’s left for your shift. Why is he here so fucking late anyway? He usually comes at least an hour before close, not thirty minutes. Your eyes betray you, eyes following him to the treadmills, watching as he puts his headphones on, starts the machine. You internally groan again knowing that you have to go over there, wipe down the machines, re-rack the weights on the Smith machines that are in perfect eye view from the treadmills. You feel sick. 

Don’t wanna see me? The jab lingers, even if it wasn’t really a jab. You do want to see him, you want to tell him about Yunho, you want to tell him about Jihyo. You want to hear what he thinks about it, if he agrees that it’s right for you. Your stomach twists when you realize you care more than you should about his goddamn opinion. 

You also want to know if you still want him. If he’d still reject you, with Yunho no longer an obstacle. 

Your cheeks heat up as you grab your cleaning supplies and head toward the machines. It’s muscle memory at this point, you try to let yourself breathe with the music playing from the speakers, the air conditioning doesn’t help dry the sweat forming at the base of your spine, nor does it cool you off. You swear you can feel him, his eyes on you, his presence is enough to distract you, to make you clean the same machine twice. 

“Was this one extra sweaty or something?” 

You yelp, jumping back a step. With all the mirrors in this fucking building, you should have seen him coming. His gray tank is drenched in sweat, a sheen laying over his bronzy, golden skin. His dark hair is pulled back, the strands hanging in the front heavy and full of moisture, his face glimmering. 

“Yes,” you answer quickly, turning away from him to the next machine. He pulls his bag farther over his shoulder, following you. You glance behind, coming to a stop, and he stops when you stop. “Do you need something?” 

His head tilts, like he’s thinking on it. But instead his bottom lip folds over as he shakes his head, shrugging. “I’ll be in the car, but don’t take too long. Gas is expensive.”

“Huh?” You verbalize your confusion. He’ll be in the car? Don't take too long? Yunho is supposed to be taking you home. To your home. His idea. His plan. 

Wooyoung doesn’t answer, instead he leaves the gym, and lets you put the pieces together yourself. You groan out in frustration after you hear the jingle over the front doors, nerves prickling at your scalp. How can you comfortably be around the person who’s slept with every single person on campus, but rejected you? 

Circumstances aside, that night was fucking humiliating. You haven’t been able to sit in the feeling since another can of worms was opened the moment you walked through the door to your apartment. Wooyoung rejected you. You told him you wanted him, and he said no. 

You take longer re-racking weights, cleaning mirrors, making sure the desk was organized for the opener tomorrow. Knowing he’s waiting just outside the doors makes your body move even slower, like if you made him wait long enough, he might leave. Then you don’t need to face the aftermath at all. Even if there’s things you want to say, things you want to ask, just to hear what he might respond. Like your body is split in two, you tug on the door handle after locking up the gym a third time, wishing your key would break in the door or something just to delay the inevitable further. 

He's there, in his blacked out sports car, engine running, LED lights brighter than the stage of a fucking rave. It feels like you’re walking to your demise, heartbeat picking up in your chest, moisture forming on your palms. 

At least the passenger side door is unlocked this time, opening as soon as you tug on the handle. He doesn’t give you a chance to speak, snapping as soon as you unfold in the passenger seat, “Were you in there trying to move machines by yourself or something? What the fuck took you so long?” 

“I’m sorry!” you immediately blurt, barely looking at him as you clip your seatbelt on. “I had to clean. Plus, I thought Yunho was picking me up.” 

“Don’t apologize,” he mutters, pulling the gear into reverse. “I hate it when you apologize, it’s like you’re speaking another language or something.”

You can smell the sweat on him, not a bad scent; it’s salty, human. Him. “Whatever,” you look out the window, not seeing anything as you pull out onto the main road. “Why are you taking me instead of Yunho?” 

“He asked me,” Wooyoung responds casually. Your jaw clenches, lips scrunching, nails picking at pilled fabric on your jeans. Yunho asked him. 

A minute goes by, and the silence feels awkward. You don’t think there’s ever been awkwardness between you and Wooyoung from the day you met. It makes you feel fucking weird, your stomach flipping, your body fidgeting with each second that goes by. 

“So,” he breaks it, and it takes you by surprise. When you look at him, his head is leaning towards you. “Since when do you like girls?”

Your cheeks heat up, heart beating even faster in your chest now. “How do you know?” you ask, the first words that come to mind. 

“You were making out with a girl at the Penny,” he says like it’s obvious. “Everyone that was at the Penny knows.” 

“You were there?” you ask again, facing him now, brows furrowed. “I didn’t even see you.” 

“I didn’t stay long,” he brushes you off. “Answer.” 

“Always,” you shrug, trying to feign casualty.

He pushes a breath through his lips like he’s choosing his next words carefully, or deciding whether or not he wants to say them. “Why didn’t you tell me you and Yunho aren’t exclusive anymore?”

Fuck. Your cheeks heat again, gut swirling with too many emotions to pinpoint which one makes your skin erupt with pins and needles. “I–” you start, then cut yourself off. Why does he fucking know so much? “I was going to.” 

“When?” he presses further, looking at you from his periphery. “You didn’t really seem eager to let me know at the Penny.” 

“I didn’t know you were there,” you defend yourself, but why the fuck are you even defending yourself? What is there to defend? “Why do I owe you an explanation?” 

“You don’t,” he answers with an attitude, short and clipped. “I just wanted to know.” 

Your eyes narrow, like you might see through his wall of ebony hair, straight into his mind. “Why did you want me to tell you, then?”

“Because you’ve come to me with all your other bullshit relationship problems,” he lifts his hand off the gearstick to shoot an open faced palm in your direction. “Excuse me for assuming that might be another one.”

You sigh, or try to, it comes out as a short breath of irritation. Your arms cross. “Why did you agree to take me home if you were just gonna be an asshole?” 

“I’m not being an asshole!” his pitch rises, sounding defensive. “Are you really not gonna tell me what happened?” 

“Say you want to know,” you turn towards him, a smile playing on your lips. “Ask me to tell you, and I will.” 

His laugh is full of pointed disbelief, “I’m not saying that shit.” 

“Say it,” you order him again. “Then I’ll tell you every single nasty detail I know you’d love to fucking hear, pervert.” 

His lips tighten, and there’s at least ten seconds of him fighting himself before he says plainly, “Fine. Tell me everything.” Then his voice gets smaller, uncertain as he adds, “I want to hear it.” 

“You didn’t ask, but I’ll let it slide,” you say, before starting the story when Yunho picked you up a few mornings ago to fix your car. You tell him that you learned how to jump a car, that you blabbed about wanting to kiss him, that Yunho was the one to suggest making your relationship non-exclusive. You tell him about the party, attempting to flirt with Jihyo, all the way up to dancing with her. 

“…she brought me into a coat closet,” you’re talking animatedly with your hands, eyes focused, mouth moving a mile a minute. 

“Wait,” he pauses, shaking his head. “She brought you into a closet to have gay sex?” 

You blink at him before it clicks together, and then you’re both laughing. You shake your head after a minute of laughter, jumping back into the story, “Wait– wait. Okay, so she’s really dominant usually, right? Like, always, that’s just Jihyo. But I challenged it, challenged her, and it worked.” 

“See?” His brows raise as he pulls onto your street. “I told you. You don’t get fucked, you fuck.”

“And you were correct, because I did fuck. I had her up against the fucking door, Wooyoung, oh my god– she was grinding against my thigh…” He quirks a brow. “And then I went down on her. Me. And it was liberating, like every single sound she made, every look on her face was like, getting me off. I felt like… I felt like–”

He parks in a spot, sits back in his seat, and looks at you like he might finish your sentence for you. And he might have, your ears are too busy ringing to hear anything, all the fucking color draining from your face. 

Use me. Let me hear you. Complimenting how she looked. You felt like Wooyoung.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, throwing a palm over your mouth as realization hits. You feel cold. The AC isn’t even on. Wooyoung loses his fucking mind. His laughter is loud, raw as he smacks his hands against his steering wheel. You cover your face with both hands, sliding into the seat, groaning out loud. You can’t believe this. This can’t actually be real. 

Wooyoung stops laughing just to choke on his words, “You– you copied me. You copied me!” 

You rip your hands away from your face, “I did not fucking copy you!” 

“God, should I call you my mini-me now? Fuck calling you Virgin, I’ll start calling you fucking twin,” he’s laughing as he says it, running his hands through his hair, sinking into the chair like this is the best thing he’s ever heard in his life. 

“I hate you,” you snap, unclipping your seatbelt. 

“No you don’t,” he’s still grinning wide. “You need me so you can steal all my moves, clearly. Do you want another lesson? Should we get in the backseat for when Yunho takes you to pick up your car from the shop?” 

You don’t answer, your entire body hot, feeling naked. Exposed, humiliated. This is fucking humiliating. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he stops, holding a hand up. It takes him three whole seconds before he starts laughing again. “You’re my fucking mini-me, I can’t believe it, Virgin. Who woulda thought?”

Your jaw clenches as you reach for the door handle. “You’re an asshole, and I’m leaving.” 

“Wait!” he shouts. “Wait, I’m sorry. I’m serious, I’m sorry. How did the rest of it go?” He snorts again, then forces his face into seriousness. “I’m sorry, I’ll stop, for real, twin.”

“Oh my god,” you bark out. “Oh my fucking god, I hate you. I actually fucking hate you.” 

“Okay, but seriously, how did the rest of it go?” he turns toward you again, brows high. “Did you make her cum?” Reluctantly, you nod. His head tilts, his tone playful as he asks, “Did she make you…?”

You shake your head no. He turns away from you to hide his laugh. You scowl, “I didn’t ask for anything back. She offered, but I said no.” 

“Fair, twin,” he turns back to say, and you launch yourself across the car, slapping him on the arm. 

“I wasn’t copying you!” you shout, slapping him again. “I wasn’t, that’s just how it went.” 

“I think it’s cute,” Wooyoung shrugs, his expression still reading playful. “That night stuck with you.”

“Nothing about you has ever stuck with me nor will it ever stick with me,” you snap, lying through your teeth, “I don’t even remember that night.” His brows raise. “Okay, that was a lie, but I meant all the other stuff.” 

He giggles again, but trails off, shaking his head, releasing a breath that sounds like relief. “I’m glad you had a good time. Did you learn something?” 

You nod before you say, “Yeah, I did. I don’t know, everything feels different now. Like, I feel different now. I understand you a little more, I think.” 

His brows furrow, “Me?” 

“You, asshole,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. “With casual sex and stuff. It’s kinda fun.” 

“Be careful,” he holds up a finger between you. “Next thing you know, you’ll have chlamydia.” 

You snort, deflating into the seat with laughter all over again. Then you shrug, turning your head toward him, “I think more people on our campus have had chlamydia than we know of.” 

He looks at you like he wants to say no shit. “You think?”

“Shut up,” you look through the windshield at your apartment, all the lights on. You turn your head to him again, “Are you coming up?” 

His brows scrunch, “Hell no.”

“Why not?”

“Because I see all of those people seven days a week. I need a day off.” 

Your lips scrunch to one side. “Do you want your hoodie back?” He thins his eyes at you, just as a smirk starts to form on your lips. You grab the door handle, “Come and get it then, bitch.” 

Wooyoung reluctantly drags himself out of his car just to hear you giggle your way up the lawn. He sighs as he closes the door, locking it by pressing his thumb onto the handle. He doesn’t have a reason to go upstairs, he doesn’t really care about getting his hoodie back. Is it weird that he hopes you didn’t wash it?

His dick feels twenty times bigger. He can’t believe you used his own moves on someone else. What does that mean? Other than the fact that you obviously enjoyed that night with him… it has to mean something more than that, right? He doesn’t know what he wants it to mean. All he knows is that he likes it, his chest hasn’t felt this light in a few days, and he wants it to feel lighter. He wants all that dark, depressing shit hanging over his head gone.

If that means being around you, he’ll take it. He doesn’t know what he wants that to mean, either.

He can feel the amusement radiating off of you as he follows you up to your apartment. The small laughs disguised as breaths with every step you take, he doesn’t comment on it, but he can hear it. You’re bright as you open up the door, and Wooyoung quickly realizes he’s been to your apartment twice. Once to fuck Yunjin, and another to rip into you, which ended in him rejecting you. He’s rejected you twice now, after he’s had you on his face.

What the fuck is happening to him?

You squeal your greetings, throwing your purse onto a little table next to your front door before skipping into your apartment. Yunjin sits over San’s lap, Mingi and Yunho are cuddled up together, Jongho sits on the other side, looking and probably feeling wildly out of place. Two couples, and Jongho. Wooyoung almost snorts at the sight.

His amusement leaves his face when you bend down to kiss Yunho. He closes the front door behind him, watching as Mingi pouts from beside him, “I thought I had custody tonight.”

You laugh, “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want a kiss, too? Would that make you feel better?”

Mingi’s grin is wide, and he nods before you even get the question out. You bend down to press a peck on his lips, and Wooyoung’s stomach does a flip. Who the fuck are you right now?

Yunjin whines from across the couch, “If you’re gonna kiss him, then you have to kiss me.”

You laugh even harder before skipping over to Yunjin, bending down to press a peck to her lips, too. And like fucking clockwork, San pouts, “Well, now I just feel left out.”

You kiss him, too. Yunjin watches with a smile like she couldn’t force herself to care if she tried.

Jongho leans over the back of the couch, glancing at Wooyoung, “Should we go before this turns into an orgy?”

Wooyoung quickly realizes he hasn’t moved an inch. He’s still standing there, completely still, face warped into shocked confusion. How much can a person truly change in just a few days? Who the fuck are you? And why did he miss all of the fucking changing?

“Oh, fuck,” you hiss, skipping around the back of the couch, holding your hair as you search the floor. You make your way toward him, still searching when Wooyoung sees it, his hoodie, crumpled in a ball two fucking feet away from the front door. “Yes! I knew I didn’t move it.”

You pick it up, and hand it to him with the widest grin he’s ever seen. His face still hasn’t changed as he grabs the ball from your hands automatically, blinking at you like he doesn’t know who the hell the person in front of him is. You pout, “Sorry it was on the floor. It was evidence.”

“Evidence?” he asks, but he doesn’t recognize his own voice. Or you. Or any of this.

You just laugh again before turning around, “I’m gonna go change, then we can watch a movie. Wait– did you guys start something without me?”

Everyone’s rattling off excuses for the TV being on, something playing, while you skip back into your bedroom with a frustrated groan. Without you in the room, he looks at everyone, and everyone looks at him. 

“What the fuck did I miss?” Wooyoung asks, suddenly feeling like his consciousness slammed into his own body again. He shakes his head as he makes his way to the couch, sitting right beside Jongho. He pulls his keys and his phone from his pocket, throwing them on the coffee table full of liquor, other drinks and snacks. He didn’t plan on staying, but he needs to know if there’s more he’s missed. He needs to be able to see the full puzzle again.

“Did we decide if we’re throwing on Tuesday?” San asks from beneath Yunjin. She’s sprawled out sideways, knees over his lap, her feet almost touching Mingi. Mingi seems to be aware of it, with how he’s turned into Yunho who has one arm stretched across the back of the couch, almost holding Mingi close to him. 

Jongho leans forward, elbows kissing his knees, “Isn’t Jungwon’s frat throwing Tuesday?”

Mingi’s brows tie together. “Who cares?”

“Ooh,” Yunjin sings, brows wiggling. “Frat rivalry?”

Wooyoung snorts. “There’s no competition. If they’re throwing Tuesday, they’ll have bodies in that house.”

Yunho suggests, “Why don’t we throw Monday, then?”

You come out of your bedroom still tugging a tee over your head, and you don’t shut the door behind you. Wooyoung can see the mess from where he sits, he can even see the white hair from one of your Gojo figures. You don’t seem to mind. 

“What’s Monday?” you ask, crawling over the back of the couch, sitting between him and Yunho.

“We might throw,” Wooyoung answers. “Jungwon’s frat is throwing Tuesday.”

“Jungwon?” You quirk a brow. “The hot one that tried to fuck me in one of the fuck rooms?”

Everyone except Wooyoung’s head turns toward you and asks, “What?”

You grin. “He brought me to the basement, that’s where people have sex, right?”

Then all eyes land on Wooyoung. He nods in confirmation. 

Yunjin asks, “When the hell was this?”

“The night you brought me out to get over Junie– I mean Yeonjun, woah,” you correct yourself, throwing your hands in front of you like you needed to recenter yourself. “Freudian slip.”

Jongho’s brows tie together, “I don’t think that’s what a Freudian slip is.”

You smack your teeth. “I’m not a psychologist, Jongho.”

Wooyoung looks away to hide his laugh. It’s a small snort, but fuck, you’re funny. 

You laugh, leaning over to smack his arm, “Don’t laugh at me. I’m a journalist, I don’t know that psychology shit.”

“Why are you hitting me so much tonight?” He grabs for his bicep that doesn’t hurt at all. “Are you abusing me for calling you twin?”

You gasp, eyes narrowing. “Don’t even bring that up right now.”

Yunho’s brows furrow, but his smile is amused, “Twin?”

You groan. Wooyoung can’t help the budding laughter, “It’s funny, actually–”

“It’s not funny at all!” you immediately argue. “Shut up, motherfucker.”

Yeah, he’s glad he stayed. “My bad, twin.”

You launch yourself at him again, and he’s laughing hard enough that the raincloud that’s been following him for days is finally nowhere in sight. His brain is blank, his chest is empty, his body feels weightless. 

He doesn’t know whether he should thank you, or blame you for causing it in the first place.

masterlist 🍬

[aeyla]

AHHHHHHHHH

[minkieater]

unscripted, the podcast that talks about everything sex, is the bane of wooyoung’s existence. he hates her snarky voice, her tips that he can guarantee are baseless, he hates that all of his friends are jumping on the fucking bandwagon when wooyoung can give them the same goddamn advice from experience. never in a million years would he guess that the person behind the voice, the girl in a sexless, boring, long-term relationship, is you.

🎤︎︎ ONE — UNSCRIPTED, AS ALWAYS

🎤︎︎ TWO — VIRGIN

🎤︎︎ THREE — BEOMGYU

🎤︎︎ FOUR — JUST A FAVOR

🎤︎︎ FIVE — NOT ANYMORE

︎︎🎤︎︎ SIX — TWO KINDS OF REBOUNDS

︎︎🎤︎︎ SEVEN — BIG GIRL

︎︎🎤︎︎ ︎︎EIGHT — SUNSHINE

︎︎🎤︎︎ NINE — WHAT YOU WANT

︎︎🎤︎︎ TEN — MISTER RICH

︎︎🎤︎︎ ELEVEN — YUNJIN & YUNHO

︎︎🎤︎︎ ︎︎TWELVE — HAPPY BIRTHDAY

︎︎🎤︎︎ THIRTEEN — ANSWER

more to come 😋 | masterlist

[aeyla]

Read it. Rn. Thank me later

[minkieater]

the best birthday party you've ever been to, even if you still don't know the birthday girl

🎤︎︎ wooyoung x fem!reader | college au series, part 12/? 🎤︎︎ 18+ | 8.6k words | reader is the host of a sex podcast, wooyoung is a frat boy whore, yunho is an angel sent from heaven above, Park Jihyo | smut minors dni, closet lesbo sex, dirty talk, oral sex f!receiving, i dont think i have to tag anything else. i literally have been writing since 11 am and i want everyone to pick up on a Certain Thing so bad

“I’M NERVOUS. WHY ARE YOU not nervous? What if they start talking about Unscripted? How do I act normal? How do you act normal?”

You sigh, closing the car door behind you, thanking the driver one last time. Yunjin’s asked about thirty different versions of the same questions all the way to the Penny, and you don’t have any more answers for her. 

“If you can’t answer, then don’t say anything.”

“But Sannie knows I’ve been listening,” she whines, head dipping backward as she follows behind you with a steady stride. “He’s gonna want to know my thoughts and feelings.”

“Then keep it vague,” you shrug. “Say what you think without saying too much. Just enough to keep him entertained.”

She smacks her teeth, heels scruffing against the pavement. “You’re a good liar, not me. Clearly.” You whip your head around to narrow your eyes at her. Shades covering her eyes, she grins, “Am I wrong?”

“No,” you huff. “But you’re either mad at me or you’re not. Don’t drag it out.”

She whines again, the vodka on her tongue already speaking for her, “I’m not mad at you, I’m sorry. It’s just fucking crazy and I’m scared I’m gonna slip up.”

You come to a full stop at the entrance, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’re not gonna slip up because you’re my best friend and you love me and you’d hate yourself if you ruined my life.”

She nods. “Yes. Yes to all of that. You’re right.”

“Okay,” you nod, assured, then rip the front door to the Penny open.

Immediately you’re hit with the scents of grease and liquor, bright music pounding through the dimly lit bar. The small tables were put away again, replaced with taller ones, they premeditated the standing room needed tonight. And thank fucking god, because once again, the Lucky Penny is packed.

There’s streamers, balloons, a banner for whoever the fuck’s birthday it is. You think Jihyo invited all of you to get bodies into the bar, even if the Penny is usually packed on weekends anyway, they rarely have any issues getting people inside. 

You and Yunjin decided to match again, different versions of the same outfit, long pants on your legs, heels on your feet. You have on a white, high-necked top while hers is low-cut and black, your jewelry even complimented one another. Your shades are on your head instead of over your eyes, she insists that you get at least one picture with them on. 

You spent the second half of yesterday together, once again discussing the technicalities of Unscripted, how you’ve managed to keep a double life for so long. You answered all her questions, broke down stories, told her every little secret she wanted to know. By the end of it she came to the conclusion that even though you kept so much from her, it’s kinda cool that it’s you. She lives with a micro-celebrity. Her words. 

It’s strange, liberating, in a way, that someone knows. Terrifying, but freeing that there’s a person who knows all of you, the secrets, the voice, the humor, all of it. Thank god it’s Yunjin. 

“I see them,” Yunjin says from behind you, pointing towards the back of the bar. You follow her line of sight, spotting San, Yunho, Mingi, Jongho. “Should we get a drink first?”

“Should we get a drink and find the girls first?” you counter. “We’re here for someone’s birthday. Whose is it again?”

“Mina,” Yunjin reminds you. “Jihyo’s friend, I think they’ve been friends for a long time, I don't know. Let’s go to the bar.”

You follow behind her after she skirts in front of you, leaving her wrist for you to grab as she pulls you into the mob of people. You should be used to it by now, swimming through the horde of people gathered in layers around the bar, but getting pushed and shoved while you’re also pushing and shoving just to get a fucking drink is too aggravating to be considered regular. 

Yunjin spots Sana and Momo before you do, tugging you forward until you’re in their line of sight, screams and squeals from the two making the crowd part to let you through. Your greetings were the same, shouted in squeals and pitched noises, side hugs and cheek-kisses like you haven’t seen each other in a month.

“You made it!” Sana beams, chocolate brown hair similar to Jen’s down, waved like she went to a salon for a fresh blowout. “Ji will be so happy, she put her whole soul into planning this.”

Your chest warms at another mention of her name, remembering your conversation with Yunho.

“Beer is free tonight,” Momo explains, her grin wide and excited. “We bought two kegs from the Penny. Miller, unforch.” You can’t help your smile, fully amused. She brings her gaze to you, “We should have gotten barrels of vodka and vermouth for you, Martini Girl.”

You shake your head, waving a hand, “I can pretend to be a frat boy for the night, don’t worry about me.”

“Just tell the bartender you’re here for Mina’s party and they’ll hook you up,” Sana adds. “Start chugging, though, two kegs will go quickly. There’s more people here than we thought would show.”

You and Yunjin take the advice quickly, switching spots with Sana and Momo to flag down the bartender, double-fisting to ensure you both end up catching a buzz. You didn’t drive since your car is in the shop, but you still want the twenty-dollar Uber to be worth it. Knowing Yunho, he’ll pay for the Uber ride home. 

Wait— can you even assume you’re going home with Yunho anymore? Since you’re no longer exclusive, that means he… He could go home with someone else. You could go home with someone else. You don’t know what feeling is blooming in your chest, but it doesn’t feel right. 

You find yourself beelining toward him, feet moving without a second thought, you don’t even tell Yunjin or the other two that you’re leaving. Your beer sways in the two glasses, toppling over the sides as you skip over shoes and slide between pockets of bodies, pushing yourself toward the tall table the four massive men stand at. 

Your glasses hitting the table introduce your presence before anyone has noticed you snuck up. Yunho’s head snaps, mid-sentence, brows tied together before his face expands in a beaming smile. “There you are, sunshine.” 

Relief washes over you at the sight. He bends down to press his lips to yours, a short peck, soft and sweet, he tastes like beer, like chapstick. Like Yunho. 

“Double fisting?” he asks, teasing, eyeing up your two beers. “Planning to get fucked up?” 

You snort, “Just ensuring I milk the kegs before they’re tapped.” You greet the rest of the table as Yunjin finally catches up, sliding between San and Jongho, setting her two draft glasses on the table, too. 

“Damn,” Jongho says, gaze bouncing between your four glasses taking up half the table, including their own glasses. “Might as well have brought a pitcher over.” 

“Can we do that?” Yunjin pops a chocolate brow over her shades. “Is that allowed?” 

Mingi asks, “Why wouldn’t it be?”

You’re quick to jump in, “Because the beers are free and a pitcher feels…” Your lips scrunch, brows furrowing, “I don’t know. Feels mooch-y.”

San laughs, “And four beers isn’t?” 

“Sana told us to get it before it’s gone!” Yunjin is laughing as she brings her beer up to her lips, taking a deep gulp. 

Jongho is about to argue again but Yunho cuts him off, “You go get a pitcher.” 

“Yeah,” Yunjin nods, glass hitting the table again. “You go get a pitcher, since you want one so bad.”

Your eyes are bouncing back and forth to each face, smile growing with each interaction, every comeback. Jongho scowls as he moves from the table, no doubt thinking about what a climb it will be to get back up to the bar. At least he brings his beer with him. 

“So,” Yunho starts, leaning down to get close to your ear. His breath is hot against your skin, it makes you shiver. “See anyone yet?”

Your cheeks heat up, eyes widening at the question. You take a swig of your beer, hoping the chilled carbonation will cool you off a bit. “No,” you mutter softly, turning your head to face him. His hair is down, curly over his forehead, almost touching his lashes. “I came straight to you.” 

His face flattens out, but there’s humor in his pretty eyes. “Boring.” 

You smack your teeth with your lips and smack his arm with the back of your hand, a laugh falling out of your open mouth. “Not boring, Jeong Yunho.” 

He giggles, goading you, “Come on, it’s your first night of freedom. Start shopping.” 

Shopping. You push the memory out as your eyes travel over the crowd, loosing a heavy breath as absolutely fucking no one catches your attention. Not that no one here is attractive– but there’s no one who you’d want one night of really hot, intense fucking with. 

You’re pouting as you glance back at Yunho. “I don’t think I’m gonna be good at this.”

“You don’t think so?” His brows sit high, a playful grin on his lips like he knows something you don’t. His chin dips in the direction you were just looking at, “Look again, baby.” 

You turn, faces blending together, bodies moving as one until you see her. As if she’s beneath a fucking spotlight, her golden, tanned skin sparkles in the pockets of her cut-out, black mini dress. Her dark hair flows down her back, curled, shiny, so pretty. She looks so fucking sexy your heartbeat picks up in your chest. 

You look back at Yunho, cheeks hot, the tips of your ears on fire, “Fuck.” 

He laughs with his head tipped backward before he brings his beer up to his lips. “Told you,” he says with a little shrug. “You’ll be just fine. Go talk to her.” 

“No!” you whisper, well, more like a whisper-yell. “I can’t go hit on her.” 

“Why not?” he’s still smiling as he asks, amused by you. “Fine. Go tell her she did a great job with the party or something.” 

“That’s so fucking corny,” you groan, shaking your head as you bring your beer back up to your lips again. 

San cuts in from across the table, “What are you two whispering about over there?” 

You’ve barely swallowed your gulp of beer before you’re blurting, “Nothing!” Your gaze lands on Yunjin, and her eyes narrow. “Fine,” your lips flatten. “Yunho wants me to go hit on Jihyo.” 

The table falls into a confused silence. Mingi breaks it by asking, “You’re gay?” 

“Aren’t you two together?” San adds on. 

“Like, our Jihyo?” Yunjin adds on, and your head bobbles between the three of them, each question adding another layer of frustration. 

All you can do is groan. A pitiful, droning groan, instinctively you bring your beer back up to your lips. 

“We’re not exclusive anymore,” Yunho answers for you. “And she has her eye on your Jihyo, yes. Gay question isn’t mine to answer.”

“Mind you, you had all day yesterday to tell me about this,” Yunjin’s eyes are still narrowed at you. 

Your cheeks are flaming, hiding beneath your glass of beer. “Baby steps?” you offer with a tiny shrug. 

Yunjin sighs, “I’ll take it, I guess.”

The conversation moves on, but your head keeps turning involuntarily, taking small glances at her. She's in heels, her muscled calves flexing each time she moves her body, shifting her stance. Fuck, she looks hot. She always looks hot. She looks especially hot tonight. 

When you look back at Yunho, he’s already looking at you. Then his brows raise as if he’s saying you gonna do it, or what? Your lips purse, heartbeat picking up again. You don’t think you’ve ever approached someone with the sole intention of flirting with them in your life. 

This past month has been filled with so many firsts for you. What’s one more?

You pick up your beer and chug the rest of it down, it’s screaming all the way down your throat, the taste not wonderful but not unbearable either. It’s the bubbles, the carbonation, but you wipe your lips with the back of your hand, look at Yunho with a determined expression, and nod. 

He grins, “That’s my girl.” 

“Are you going?” San asks, thick, dark brows wiggling. “Should we give you a pep talk? Act like we’re sending you off to war?” 

You try to scowl at him, but your lips curve at the corners. “Go fuck Jen in the bathroom or something.” 

“Go fuck Jihyo in the bathroom or something,” he fires back automatically. 

“Maybe I will, bitch,” it comes out of your mouth before you can think about it and your palm flies over your mouth, shocked that you just fucking said that. Maybe the Miller gave you a little more than just courage. 

San howls with laughter. “Fuck yes, do it.”

Your cheeks are warm, and that definitely wasn’t a pep talk, but for some reason it feels like what you needed. You turn on your heel, breath pushing out of your circled lips shakily as you wipe your sweaty palm on your pant leg. Your other hand holds your other, full beer. 

She’s mid-conversation as you approach her, and before speaking, interrupting, you lay your hand softly on her shoulder blade. “Just wanted to say hi.” 

She just about fucking screams when she sees you. Forgetting her conversation completely, she throws her arms around you, yelling, “You came! You came! I’m so happy!” 

You laugh into her arms, pretending you don’t care about her body pressed against yours, that you didn’t come over here with an ulterior motive. “Of course I did, you invited me.” 

She keeps her hands on your shoulders as she pulls away, barely keeping space between you, she’s beaming, her cheeks flushed. You keep catching the gloss on her lips as she barrages you with questions, “How are you? Who are you here with? Is Jen here?” 

You point behind you, and her eyes follow. “She’s here, we invited some of the guys we’re friends with.” 

“Oh,” her brows furrow as she waves her manicured hand. “They’re already all looking over here.” 

Your face drops, you turn your head and scowl in their direction, just to catch them all staring at you. When they catch your expression they all turn away, caught. Guilty. Fuckers. 

“Isn’t the blonde one yours?” she asks, brows wiggling. “He’s hot. Tall.”

“He’s not mine,” you blurt, shaking your head. Fuck, this is harder than you thought it’d be. “We’re not exclusive, I’m– I’m fully single.” 

“Oh,” she says like this is the most scandalous information she’s ever heard. “My girl who’s committed to being committed is in a non-exclusive relationship? Who are you?” 

“I’m me,” you smile, eyes finding the floor for a millisecond. You shrug, “Just… different now. I guess.” 

“I’m proud of you,” she nods, one arm that was holding onto your shoulder sliding down to pet your bicep. You physically have to stop yourself from shivering at the contact. She’s taller than you in her heels, looking down at you as she says it, her soft palm brushing your bare skin…

“Thank you,” you murmur, cheeks heating up again. “This place looks great– I– you look great.” 

“Yeah?” She beams, taking a step back to look down at her own outfit. “I know it’s Mina’s birthday, but since I planned it I figured I have to look good, too.” 

“You do,” you affirm her, looking at her outfit with her, nodding your head. You run a hand through your hair. Why is this so hard? How do you start flirting with a girl who’s your friend? How do you un-friend your friend? How do you even flirt?

Someone grabs at her wrist, a small girl, long, black hair, she’s beaming at her. You can only assume that’s Mina. “Ji! There’s someone I want you to meet!” 

Jihyo nods toward her, and then the girl is tugging at her arm, and Jihyo shoots you an apologetic look. “I’ll find you later!” 

“Don’t worry about it!” you wave your hand, feeling a pang of disappointment in your gut. Fuck. You absolutely fumbled that. Fuck. 

You turn back to your friends with regret heavy in your eyes. You take another gulp of beer before deflating into the table, debating guzzling the pitcher Jongho brought back. 

“How’d it go?” Yunho asks as soon as you’re back in ear shot. You scowl. His lips flatten. “Can you give me more than just a look?”

You pout. “I barely got to say anything before the birthday girl pulled her away. Damn, I didn’t even say happy birthday.” 

“You have all night,” San assures you from across the table. 

Mingi cooes, “Oh my god, baby’s first gay-crush.” 

You don’t even have the time to roll your eyes before Jongho starts cracking up, “What the fuck did I miss?” 

“A lot,” you gruff out, picking up your beer again. 

Yunho lowers it before you can bring it up to your lips, “Pace yourself, sunshine. We literally have all night.” 

“Damn, no Jihyo and now no beer?” you complain, but your words are playful. “So bossy.” 

“You know bossy, and that wasn’t bossy,” he reminds you, voice sliding into that velvety cadence. 

Your gut warms. “Don’t start with that or else I’ll really give up on Jihyo.” 

His grin is bright, satisfied. “You’re funny tonight.” 

“I’m always funny,” you quip, slightly offended. 

“I don’t even know how to flirt with her,” you’re talking to the table now. “How do you flirt with a girl who’s your friend?” 

Yunjin answers, “You do know she’s super gay, right? Like she fucks with dudes but not nearly as much as women? I don’t think you even have to try that hard, she probably saw you all cute and flustered while you were talking to her.” 

If your cheeks get any hotter, you might overheat like a cell phone on a fucking beach. Your elbow lands on the table, palm hitting your forehead. “I’m not cut out for this life.” 

The table responds by laughing. The conversation moves on, San talks about the gym, Yunho talks about the really good weed he bought from a guy in his public speaking class, Mingi talks about the girl he slept with last weekend, and Jongho tells him he slept with her the weekend before.

You don’t have anything to add except a joke here and there or laughing along with the table. You can feel the absence of one, you catch yourself scanning the room, looking for a familiar head of black hair and bronzy skin. You don’t see him. You let the thought pass. 

Mingi pulls you back to the conversation by asking, “Did you guys listen to the new episode of Unscripted?” 

Yunjin’s eyes lift to yours. Your expression doesn’t so much as flicker. 

“I listened!” San beams. “I think every single person in this room listened. Who’s side are you guys on?” 

Yunho, without missing a beat, answers, “Mister Tall and Dominant.” 

Your expression cracks, a smile forcing its way through the mask. He didn’t tell his friends it’s you— well, that it’s him. 

Yunjin nods, “Same.” She’s definitely speaking just to add something to the conversation, because you know she’s team Wooyoung. 

“What?” San gawks at the table, “Are you shitting me? She’s obviously in love with Mister Piss-Me-Off.” 

“No she’s not,” you find yourself arguing. Defensively, too. 

San looks at you like you’re ridiculous. “Did you listen to the way she talked about him? It was word vomit, she’s obsessed.” 

There’s warning in the hinge of Yunjin’s jaw. You shrug, “I don’t know. I just don’t think it’s that serious. Unscripted fucks a new person every week, let’s be honest with ourselves here.” 

“That’s true,” Mingi adds. “Just another fling. Content for the pod.” 

“I didn’t even listen,” Jongho reveals, “but everyone keeps fucking talking about it. Who cares who she fucks?” 

“We do, apparently,” Yunho adds with a little laugh, picking up his beer again. You should buy him something. Or fuck him really, really good tomorrow. 

Yunjin’s body is so tight you think she might explode. “Can we go to the bathroom?” she asks, keeping her voice light, but you can hear the panic lining her tone because you know her. 

You nod, sliding from the table, meeting her on the other side before walking with her toward the bathroom. She waits until you’re out of earshot before exploding, “How did you do that? How do you do that? I feel like I’m gonna have a heart attack!” 

You snort, rolling your eyes, “You did fine, Jen. You’re fine.”

“Does Yunho know?” 

“He thinks I submitted the story,” you explain, approaching the neon pink Girls Room sign. The line isn’t too long, you lower your voice as you walk towards the end of it. “He knows it’s about him, but he doesn’t think I’m… Her.”

“How the hell did he figure that out?” 

You shrug, “Don’t know, but he came to the conclusion on his own. I just agreed.”

Yunjin sighs. “He’s so fucking smart, but he’s kinda stupid at the same time.” 

You giggle. “I don’t think he’s stupid at all, he’s like, one thought process away from putting all the pieces together.” 

She presses her back up against the wall, brows furrowed over her shades. “That doesn’t scare you?” 

“It does,” you nod. “I don’t know… he’s kind. I trust him. He didn’t tell everyone else the story was about him, I think if he ended up figuring it out, he’d keep it to himself, too.” 

Her head tilts. “You don’t think he’d be upset that you kept it from him?” 

“I mean, do you think he has a right to?” 

Her lips purse, shoulders shrugging. “Maybe.” 

You think on it, taking the spot beside her, sighing as you back up against the wall. You turn your head to her, “Do you really think Jihyo saw my flustered-ness as cute?” 

She wears a lazy grin as she turns her head to you. “I think you’re cute when you’re flustered, so there’s no way she didn’t.”

Your smile brightens, cheeks warming all over again. It’s too fucking early into the night to break the seal, but you do anyway because the sound of the sinks running makes your bladder feel heavier than it’s ever been. 

On the way back to the table, you spot her again. She’s talking to someone else you don’t know, a guy, tall, buff. He’s kinda hot. Her body language is friendly but your stomach jumps in warning, your mind and your legs are in agreement as you part ways with Yunjin to purposely interrupt her conversation this time. 

“I found you first,” you say, cutting off whatever this fuckass guy is saying. 

Jihyo beams, “And thank god you did.” 

The guy pouts, “Why’s it suddenly fuck me?” 

Jihyo laughs, smooth and pretty, “Sorry, Johnny.” She introduces the two of you, and then turns her attention fully on you. “Those pants make your legs look so fucking long. Is your top backless?” 

You do a little spin, and she whistles. Whistles. Your cheeks are fucking burning when you turn back to her, and you desperately wish you had your beer. 

She reads your mind. “Where’s your drink?” 

You look at her empty hands. “Where’s yours?” 

Her lips tighten in a grin. “Touché, let’s go to the bar.”

She grabs your hand and electricity shoots up your spine, excitement, adrenaline. Is this working? Are you doing it? You can’t tell. Your eyes drop while following behind her, taking in her curves, the way her hips way with every hurried step. She cuts through the layers of people before the bar like she’s the human version of a sword, shoulders back as she tugs you all the way up to the front. 

She doesn’t let go of your hand when she gets up to the bar. She swings her upper half over the deep oak, giving you a perfect view of the way her shiny hair glistens under the lighting, how her back arches, ass poking out. She calls over the bartender like he’s working for her. 

She orders two shots and two beers. Your brow pops as you lean in almost over her shoulder, “Shots aren’t free, Ji. Just get beers.” 

Her head tilts, a tiny smirk on her lips. “I can’t buy you a shot?”

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. “Oh. Yes, you can. Thank you.” 

Her smile widens, a tiny laugh falling off her tongue. “You’re so cute.” 

Coming from her, you think maybe you don’t want to be cute. Coming from Yunjin, sure, cute is fine, but coming from Jihyo? You want to be as sexy as you think she is. You chew on your bottom lip, your cheeks flame anyway. 

The bartender brings your shots and she thanks him, yelling an ‘add it to my tab’ before she hands one to you. It’s clear, vodka, your throat is already burning before a drop has touched your tongue. 

“Cheers to new beginnings,” she holds up her plastic shot glass to you. “New beginnings, a new mindset, and freedom that you didn’t have before.” 

You tease, “We’re still celebrating my breakup?” 

“No, baby,” she shakes her head, smirk still playing on her lips. “I told you that you’re not a passive girl. You’re out of the funk.” 

Baby sounds different on her lips now. Heat curls as you clink your plastic shot glass with hers, and shoot the vodka back. You whistle as you slam it back on the bar, sipping the beer that was waiting for you, letting it wash the aftertaste off the back of your throat. 

“Fuck, I drink vodka, and taking shots still fucking burns,” you’re wiping off your lips again as you turn back to her, she looks unbothered as ever. “How are you not cringing?” 

She shrugs, “I’m older than you. More experience.” 

“You’re older than me by one year, Ji,” you almost roll your eyes, smile bending your lips. “How much more experience can you have?” 

“A lot,” she says coolly before sipping her beer. “Trust me.” 

Are you still talking about vodka? You can’t tell. Heat blooms, and whether it's from her words, the liquor, both, you don’t care. 

“Tell me about the guy,” she starts again, still leaning up against the bar. She's holding her glass with two hands, hair off her shoulders, chest on display. She's radiating the same comforting dominance she always has, the one that makes you want to obey without even realizing you’re doing it. 

“Yunho?” you question. “The tall, blonde one?” 

“The one you’re casually fucking,” she corrects, or points out, you don’t know. 

Your legs cross as you lean up against the bar, too. “He’s sweet. He takes care of me.”

She hums, looking you up and down, and doesn’t do a damn thing to hide it. “Do you need to be taken care of?” 

“Sometimes,” you answer, feeling the weight of her gaze. “Sometimes not.”

Her smile grows. “Good,” she leans forward a little more, closing some of the distance between you. “Is he taking care of you tonight?” 

Your heartbeat picks up, mouth going dry. You sip your beer, and then shake your head. “N-no, he’s not.” 

She looks like she’s won, satisfied as hell. “Do you want to dance with me?”

You’re nodding profusely, you don’t even say the word yes before she’s grabbing your hand again and tugging you toward the dance floor. 

Wooyoung’s getting real sick of the Lucky Penny. He feels like he’s spending his entire fucking week in the step-above-shithole bar, but maybe he’s just allowing himself be angry at the Penny because the alternative is too damning. It’s been two days and it’s still eating him alive, the way you looked at him in his car, like you never want to speak to him again. He doesn’t know why that hurts the way it does.

He shouldn’t care, oh, he shouldn’t give a flying fuck. But he does, and he fucking hates it.

The way he came home to Yunho with fucking word vomit, getting the entire sequence of events off his chest because he felt guilty. He didn’t even do anything and he felt fucking guilty. The batting cage, the diner, he never should have done any of it knowing that you and Yunho are exclusive. He shouldn’t have let himself get to know you any better, and he sure as hell shouldn’t have let you know him.

But it’s so fucking hard to stop himself when he’s around you. Usually it’s his dick controlling him, and… and– and it still is. He just wants to fuck you. He’s gotten a taste of you, and he’s hungry for the rest. 

He has to tell himself that with every pretty face that looks at him inside the Penny. Every wink, every longing stare, every fuckable face he sees he has to remind himself that the only reason you’re on his mind is because he’d rather fuck you. 

He didn’t mean to be late tonight. Every outfit in his closet didn’t seem appropriate, and by the time he was on the fifth outfit he almost yelled out in frustration because when the fuck has he ever cared about his outfit? No one in the Penny is looking at his goddamn outfit. Every woman whose eyes land on him is thinking he’s sexy, or they’ve heard he’s great in bed and they’re wondering if it’s true, every woman is debating if they’ll have a chance to find out, tonight. And they won’t. None of them will fucking know because you’re suddenly a drug, a fucking poison he accidentally injected into his veins. 

It’s disgusting. He needs to get drunk. 

He approaches the bar, slams his card on the oak. The bartender tells him something about a keg, he orders whiskey on the fucking rocks. He’s not drinking draft Miller fucking Lite tonight.

“Oh no,” Sana approaches him, a glass of beer in one hand. She looks pretty, hair tied back, showing enough skin that usually would make Wooyoung want to find out what the rest looks like. “It’s gotten worse. What’s wrong with you?”

He takes a swig of whiskey, doesn’t cringe as it burns its way down. “Nothing,” he answers. Short, definitely not sweet.

“Should you be here with an attitude like that?” she asks, brows raised. “Drinking hard liquor, of all things?”

He gives her a blank stare. “I don’t have an attitude.”

“Let me ask you something, then,” she stands a little straighter. “If I asked you to fuck me in the bathroom right now, would you do it?”

“I just got here,” he answers, voice flat. “Can you ask me after I’ve made my rounds? Scouted the rest?”

She laughs, but it’s hollow. “Glad to find out the whore is still in there. For a second, I thought you were upset about a girl.”

He gives her a look, eyes hard, brows flat. His jaw clenches as he swallows down some more whiskey. “I’ll never be upset about a girl, Sana. You know that.”

She looks at him sideways like she doesn’t really believe him. “Whatever you have going on, you better fix it real quick. No one wants a miserable man drinking hard fucking liquor at a birthday party.”

She turns on her heel, miniskirt dancing on her hips as she disappears into the crowd. Something tight within his chest unwinds as her words sink in. She’s right. Anger isn’t a fucking party favor. He sighs, more so pushes whatever he can get out from his chest, hoping it’s all the frustration and confusion that’s bottled up inside him. 

He rolls his shoulders before walking through the crowd, ignoring the eyes, saying hi here and there to those who say hi to him, he spots San before anyone else. He doesn’t know how he recognized him, he’s currently mauling Yunjin’s face off, standing beside a tall table filled with a half-filled pitcher of beer and eight tall glasses. Some empty, some full, some half-empty. 

Mingi and Jongho are talking, clearly trying to ignore the way San’s basically having sex in the middle of the bar. He approaches the two, “Not watching the show?”

“That’s something only someone like you would enjoy,” Jongho grins, clasping Wooyoung’s hand.

Mingi does the same before adding, “Are you about to?”

“Not in the mood,” Wooyoung shrugs his shoulders. “Who else is here?”

Jongho points toward Yunho, who’s standing a foot behind Wooyoung. His brows furrow, “The fuck is he doing?”

“Go find out,” Mingi says, full of amusement.

Wooyoung’s brows furrow, but he walks up to Yunho anyway, curious. He’s facing the dance floor, Wooyoung follows his line of sight, squinting as he tries to find what the older man is looking at.

His stomach drops when he sees it. You’re… you’re kissing someone. You’re kissing a girl. You’re kissing the only fucking girl in that goddamn friend group that he hasn’t fucked. Yunho might have to pick his jaw up from the floor. 

“You’re– you’re watching this?” Wooyoung’s voice is shakier than he wants it to be.

Yunho smiles. “I’m about to stop, it feels weird to watch. They just started making out.”

Wooyoung doesn’t understand. His mind is moving a mile a fucking minute. He asks, “You’re okay with that?”

Yunho finally looks at him, and he’s wearing a prideful smile. “Of course I’m okay with it.” Wooyoung blinks at him. Once, twice. Yunho laughs like he can’t help it. “We’re not exclusive anymore.”

Wooyoung’s jaw might be on the floor again. “Are you serious?”

Yunho nods, “Sorry it didn’t happen before she tried to kiss you.”

Wooyoung’s face drops, and so does his stomach. You told him?

He starts, guilt lining his tone, “Yun–”

“Don’t apologize,” Yunho shakes his head. “We’re cool.”

Wooyoung nods, and his eyes betray him as they lead out to the dance floor again. He doesn’t even fucking know her name, but your hands are on her cheeks, her hands on your waist, no– one hand is on your waist, the other is on your ass, squeezing it. You’re kissing her like you can’t get enough of her, like there isn’t a single part of you that’s second-guessing it, like you want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything. 

He swallows. He can feel the whiskey at the bottom of his stomach, heavy, leaden. You’re– you’re kissing someone else. You’re kissing a fucking girl. You just ended exclusivity with Yunho and you’re kissing someone fucking else?

He turns, walking past Yunho, past Mingi, Jongho, past San and Yunjin who look like they don’t even need air to breathe anymore. He sets the half-full glass of whiskey on the table, and announces to anyone who can fucking hear him, “I’m leaving.”

Jongho calls from behind him, “You just fucking got here!”

Wooyoung ignores him, then ignores every other person who tries to get his attention before he leaves the Lucky Penny.

Jihyo kisses you differently than Yunho kisses you. Different from Wooyoung. From Yeonjun. She kisses you like she’s trying to prove something, no, like she wants you to prove something. Like there’s still a part of you shielded, a part of you that’s begging to be released, and she wants to be the one to pull it out of you. Where her hands go, you arch into her touch. When her tongue pries your lips open, you let her explore until it evokes a soft moan from the back of your throat. When your hands finally find her cheeks, when one drops to her waist, her soft sigh makes your brain short-circuit. 

You made her make a noise. A sound. Of pleasure. You did that.

Your eyes open in surprise just to see her lips parted, her head tipped back, her spine bent toward you. The sight of someone else swimming in a haze of pleasure has never been so fucking beautiful. It’s sheer instinct to kiss her again, harder this time, your tongue pushing past her lips, your hands on her hips, needing more of her. 

You’ve imagined this a thousand times, usually alone, in your bed, sometime around twilight. You’ve imagined her, her face blown out with pleasure, dark eyes heavy with arousal, and in each and every daydream, you’ve been the reason why. You didn’t think it could feel this good, even just from some fucking kissing, to make someone else feel good. 

Her nails dig into the fabric of your pants, sinking into your skin beneath. You hiss into her mouth and she smiles into the kiss, “What is this, baby?”

“What?” you ask, brain cloudy, consumed with lust. 

“Are we just gonna make out on the dance floor?” she asks, then her teeth grab onto your bottom lip, biting soft enough to tease. “Or do I get more of you?”

Her chest presses against yours, your brows furrow, jaw cracking open. “You– you want more?”

“Are you kidding me?” she asks with a little laugh, and even that makes your gut churn with heat. “Do you want more?”

“I–” you’re panting, breaths layered. “Yes– yeah, I want– yes.”

Her grin turns to a nasty smirk, “Come.”

She tugs on your hand, pulling you through the crowd, and your eyes drift over the heads to your left. He’s exactly where you left him, with Mingi, with Jongho, they’re laughing about something. Like he can feel your gaze, his head turns, meeting your eye. He smiles, and it’s so fucking full of warmth that it eases something inside you that you didn’t realize needed to be eased.

You’re smiling, too, as Jihyo tugs you through the crowd, turning a corner around the entrance to the bathrooms, tugging on the bronze door handle to what looks like a coat closet. Or a supply closet. 

You don’t have time to decipher which, because as soon as she gets you inside the closet, she has you pinned to the door. Her lips are on yours again, sloppier, like her restraint is running thin, you hear the door lock before her hands push your hips into the door. 

Your hands fly to her hair, fingers tangling at the nape of her neck, tugging ever so slightly. Her neck bends backward with a sharp sound, and you follow, attaching your lips again because even a fucking second without it is too long. 

Her hands slide up your waist, cupping over your chest, squeezing your boobs through your bra. Your hips twitch, canting forward, the tips of your tongues still touching. 

“This your first time?” she asks, panting. “With a girl?”

You nod, voice breathy and layered, “Yeah.” She smiles wide, her eyes flaring. You laugh a little, “What?” 

“You should be happy it’s me,” she whispers, huskier now. Her hands slide down to your hips, one hand coming to the center to toy with the button to your pants. 

“Yeah?” There’s cockiness in your tone, from a part of yourself that you haven’t cracked open yet. It’s dark in the closet, the light seeping through the bottom of the door lighting her face from below. “You wanna take care of me?” 

“Do you need to be taken care of?” she asks again, head tilting. One of her fingers slips into the waistband of your pants, tugging them toward her. 

You don’t. You want to show her that you don’t. 

One hand slides around her waist, turning her swiftly until her back is pressed up against the door. She laughs, and it’s arrogant as hell, “You wanna take care of me?” 

“I can take care of you,” you murmur, now the words feel less foreign on your tongue. You think of the sound she made earlier, the soft noise of pleasure you pulled from her. You want to hear it again. 

The way her grin beams with pride only makes you kiss her harder, more confidence in your hands, pressing into the skin you can feel in the cutouts of her dress. She hooks a leg around you and you slot one leg between hers, pressing exactly where you know she needs it. 

She gasps, her manicured nails finding your shoulders, her hips immediately grinding up against your pant leg. You dip your head under her jawline, leaving open-mouthed kisses down her neck as her hips work against your thigh. 

One hand finds her ass as you murmur, “Yes.” She moans and a surge of heat boils through your blood, especially as her head dips back. It thuds against the door, giving you access to her neck. Your lips suck at the spot where her neck meets her chest, just above her collarbone. 

She moans a little louder, mumbling a choked out ‘fuck’ as she works up a rhythm against your thigh. You can feel the heat, the wetness seeping through, you want to clench your thighs together. You want to feel it. You want to taste it. 

Your hands slide up her waist, fingers settling over her chest, squeezing. She squeaks out another moan, one of her hands tugging at your roots, making you moan, too. 

You tug at her straps, sliding them down her arms until she gets herself free. You reach behind her, two hands working the clasp of her bra until you pull it off of her, throwing it on the floor. 

Fuck. “You’re so fucking sexy, Ji, oh my god.” 

“Please,” she whimpers. Whimpers. You think you might have moaned again at the sound. “I wanna see you, too.” 

You untie your top at the back of your neck, letting it fall over the front of your pants until it pools at your hips. You don’t give her a chance to compliment you back, kissing her again, and her hips pick back up the rhythm against your thigh, harder this time. 

“Shit, Ji,” you choke out, grabbing at the hem of her dress, tugging it upward, watching how she drags her panty-clad cunt over your thigh. “Yes, use me, fuck.” 

“Want you,” she mutters, thick with arousal. “Want more. Mouth, fingers, I don’t care.” 

Her panties, thin, black and lacy, you slide your palm underneath the waistband, greeted with a thick wetness, so much fucking wetness that you gasp. 

“Holy shit, you’re wet,” you marvel. 

She giggles, throwing her head back against the door again. “All for you, baby. You wanna taste it?” 

Keeping your eyes on her, you pull your hand from her panties, and bring your fingers to your mouth. Tangy sweet, her brows knit together at the sight of you shoving your fingers past your lips, tasting her, enjoying her. 

“Sweet,” you tease, and her hips jerk at the word. You want more. You want to taste all the wetness that's built up for you. 

Sinking down to your knees, she watches as you reach up for her panties, slowly dragging them down her toned, muscled legs. “Tell me…” you trail off, searching for the words. “Tell me if you like it. Okay?” 

“You know what to do,” she assures you, nodding. “But I’ll tell you, baby.” 

You throw her leg over her shoulder, fingers dancing over her soft skin, feeling the dips of her muscles as your lips press small kisses toward the apex of her thighs. Her breathing grows labored, her hips twitching toward you. 

You finally look at her core, glistening even under the darkness of the closet. You curse under your breath at the sight, so fucking beautiful, you’re throbbing, your own hips twitching, trying to get some kind of friction in your pants. 

Like a dog to a fucking bone, you bring your lips to her core, pressing one soft, steady kiss to her clit. She hisses, one hand flying to your hair and you welcome it as your tongue pokes out from between your lips, tasting her from bottom to top. 

Her moan is soft, coated in relief. It gives you a little more confidence, massaging your tongue against her clit, her fingers tightening in your roots as a sharp, gasped moan tumbles off her tongue. 

“Yes,” she moans out, hips twitching into your tongue. “Just like that.” 

You look upward, taking in her tight brows, her parted, glossy lips. She’s enjoying this. She’s enjoying you. 

One hand stays on her thigh over your shoulder, the other holds the skin just above her knee. You keep your tongue flat as she grinds herself against it, head tilting backward as she chokes out a heavy, “Fu–uck.” 

Your brows tie together, a moan falling past your lips. You wrap your lips around her clit, sucking, and you feel her spine go rigid, you can hear her toes curl against the leather of her sole, the heel poking at your back. Her hips stutter, jaw clenched like she was too aware of the noise she’s making. 

“Let me hear you,” you break away to say quickly, fast enough that you barely register that the words feel familiar. “Fuck whoever else hears.” 

“Uh-huh,” she’s nodding as you dive back into her core again, tongue lapping at her folds, flicking at her clit in a steady rhythm. 

“Holy shit,” she gasps out. “Fuck, fuck, keep doing that.”

You do, you will your head into stillness, a wall that she can fuck herself against. Her hips roll, using your head for purchase as she uses you, uses your face, your tongue. 

You can feel it, the tremor in her legs, how her hips start to lose rhythm. You keep it instead, never faltering, watching as her mouth stretches wider, as her brows tie further together. She’s close. 

Feeling, knowing she’s almost there is enough to keep your body a rock, you want to watch her come undone. Her moans heighten in pitch, breaking up in staccato until her breath gets caught in her chest, and then she starts to shake. 

She cries out your name as she comes, fingers tightening in your hair like she might rip it out of your head, but you don’t fucking care. You eat her through it, letting her shake and convulse on your face, you lick up every last drop. 

“Easy,” she finally says, breathing labored, letting go of your head. She collapses into the door, chest heaving as you sit back into your thighs, running a hand through your hair, too aware of the sweat gliding down your spine. 

After a minute of just breathing, she starts to laugh. You blink at her before a smile curves your lips, and then you start laughing, too. 

“I didn’t even know you liked girls,” she says, fixing her panties into place. “I’m learning so much about you tonight.”

The grin you give her is lazy, your head tilting, falling onto your shoulder. You wipe at your wet chin, “I’ve always liked girls, you’ve just always known me with a boyfriend.” 

She’s shaking her head as she picks her bra up from the floor. “He’s a demon.” She’s clipping it behind her back as she asks, “Can I take care of you now?” 

Your head tilts to the other side, thinking. You don’t really need more, you already got what you wanted, and the satisfaction of making her come on your face is enough. And it’s strange, different in a way you can’t pick apart, that you chose this, and you got it. And Jihyo’s still your friend. 

Your grin is coy, “I don’t really know how to say no, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, or think I don’t want you or something. But I’m kinda good.” 

Her brows raise as she crouches down into her calves, almost eye level with you in her heels. She smiles like she’s amused, “You’re kinda good?” 

You laugh, grabbing for your straps, attempting to tie them around the back of your neck. “Not that I don’t… I don’t know. I’m tired.” 

“I’m sure you are,” she drawls, amused. “You just ate pussy for the first time and did an incredible fucking job.” 

Your cheeks warm. “You enjoyed it?” 

“I came, did I not?” Her brows raise before she stands up again, moving around you to help you tie your top at the back of your neck again. She presses a kiss to the top of your head after finishing off the knot, “You’re like… I don’t know. Different than you were with the demon. I really am proud of you.” 

You tilt your head backward to see her, and she’s just as beautiful upside down. “You think so?” 

“In a good way,” she nods. “You’re more comfortable in your skin. Confident. It looks good on you.” 

You beam, “Thanks, Ji.”

“Come on,” she stands up straight again, reaching for your hand. “I’m hosting, people are gonna start to notice I left to fuck one of my friends in a closet.” 

You erupt into laughter as she pulls you up, shaking your head in disbelief. You can’t believe you just did that. You can, actually, because you chose to do it. You can’t wait to tell Yunho.

When you leave the closet again, everything feels brighter. It's almost as if the music is turned back on, or someone fucked with the dimness of the lighting, you aren’t sure. She keeps your fingers locked until you spot Yunho again, letting you go with a kiss to your cheek and a whispered ‘love you’ in your ear. 

Your cheeks are warm again as you approach Yunho, “You’re lucky you made it, the Uber’s out front.” 

You gasp, “You would have left me?” 

Yunho beams. “No, silly. I would’ve sent Yunjin and San home, absolutely, but I would have stayed for you.” 

“Good,” you lean into him as you sort through the mass of bodies, following behind Yunjin and San who were somehow still making out. They take a step, kiss, take a step, kiss. You look up at Yunho, “Has it been that way all night?”

“He owes me for it,” Yunho says nonchalantly. “That’s all I’m saying.” 

You laugh, then you notice your purse over his shoulder, poking into your back. It warms you all over, you think this might have actually been the best day of your life. The most affirming day of your life. Almost as if you’re really one with Unscripted. You might be getting closer. 

“Did you have fun?” he asks when you get outside, while San and Yunjin, then Mingi and Jongho pile into the minivan Uber. 

You nod, “I can’t wait to tell you all about it.” 

“I can’t wait to hear,” he says, letting you climb into the car first, then following behind you. 

You think Yunjin might’ve sat on San’s lap the entire ride home. You think they might have done more in the backseat besides makeout, but you didn’t look. Ignorance is bliss. 

You’re still in that state of bliss as you walk through the front door of his frat, climbing all the way up the stairs, and collapsing in Yunho’s bed as soon as it’s in sight. 

Yunho closes the door behind him, “Oh, she tired you out, huh?” 

“I think I tired her out,” you turn your head so you can see him, smirking at him. 

He undresses himself quickly, yawning, back arching in a stretch as his pants pool at his ankles. You kick all your clothes off, too, your pants, your top. 

When you climb into bed together, you lay on opposite sides, but neither of you feel the distance. And then you tell him everything, every detail, until you can’t keep your eyes open anymore. 

masterlist 🍬

[aeyla]

So this is my new favorite series. Thank you for writing this holy shit. I love your writing style and the pacing is perfection.

[maho6any]

Love Talk⋆˚࿔

because sometimes, actions don't speak louder than words

OT8 x F!Reader

♡ — synopsis: how do the boys talk to you while they're hittin that shit crazy style

♡ — warnings: crazy dirty talk. i plead the fifth.

♡ — notes: thank you so much for 4k followers! this is a small token of gratitude, and if you've been on my blog for long enough, dirty talk is my favorite thing on earth, so heres some things i think the ateez men would say to you lovelies in bed <3

⌞They have something to say to you ...⌝

Hongjoong

Condescending, teasing, dumbifying, talks to you like you’re stupid.

"Your job is to lie there and pretend that pretty little brain of yours isn't there."

"You think you have half a mind to give me orders? What's gotten into my sweet little girl?"

"I can feel your heartbeat through your cunt, baby, you're so alive it makes me wanna fuck you to death."

"Don't give up now, pretty, show me what else you can do with that mouth other than run it.

"You're cumming? So soon? Such a sensitive pussy, you'll be a slick wreck before I even get my dick in you."

"Pretty baby loves when Daddy fucks her to sleep, hm? I kinda miss when you use that voice to scream for me."

"Stupid cunt can't stop drooling all over the place. She can't help it, baby, huh? Can she? Fix your face and answer me, slut."

"You have such a soft body; we're gonna see how much it can withstand."

"I don't think you understand how much you've fucked up letting a man like me get his hands on you."

"You're such a good listener when you're all fucked out, pretty girl. Don't worry, drift off. I'll use you until I think you've had enough."

Seonghwa

Gentle, coaxing, intense, talks to you like if he’s too harsh, you might break.

"Six. You're going to cum for me six times. I'm gonna get you there, baby, let me take care of you."

"You're so close, honey, focus. god you're so beautiful, it drives me insane."

"I love how my fingers get you excited, how they reach places you could only dream of touching."

“Is my gorgeous girl gonna cum for me? Yes, you are; don’t be shy.”

“I don’t mean to be so deep, baby, but you’ll be okay. You can take me, you always do like the angel you are.”

“Deep breaths, yes, that’s it. Feel me everywhere. Focus on feeling good; that’s all that’s ever mattered.”

“Open that pretty mouth, honey; I wanna hear those noises you make when you’re overstimulated.”

"Don't float away from me, come on. Snap out of it. Only 2 more to go."

"Please, bunny its the only thing I want, it's the only thing I need. Let me see those eyes when you cum. Don't look away."

"I just can't help it, baby, can't you go for 7? Please? Good girls always go above and beyond."

San

Encouraging, drunk, prideful, much like he’s overtly proud of how well you handle him

"That's it, talk to me, let me know what spots I'm touching."

"Mmm, fuck babydoll, your tummy's so soft, you smell so fucking good... you're perfect."

"I know it's a lot, but you got it, look at you... deep strokes. Don't let your body run from me, stay right there."

"I'm gonna get as many orgasms out of you as I can, hold back, and I'll force them out of you."

"You're so pretty- mwah!- so cute when I hit you deep baby, you look so blissed out."

"You take my dick like a champ, sweet girl. mhm, and you make me feel so good."

"Shh, suck on my fingers, like that. You have to be quieter, or the neighbors will complain about you again. I don't know what their deal is because you sound gorgeous."

"Take what you deserve, it's all for you. It's all for you... I'm so proud of you, baby."

"I love when you moan with your pussy in my mouth. Tell me more, sweetheart, let me hear what I'm doing to you."

"Right there? Hm? Yeah, I know. I know but 'm gonna fuck my shape into this pussy. I'm sorry, I know, keep cumming that's it. I'm not done yet."

Yeosang

Quiet, demanding, straightforward, much like he knows what he wants and always gets it

"Let me fuck you on your stomach, I know you'll cum the whole time if I do."

"C'mon get a grip, you're drooling all over my pillow, we just started, sweetheart."

"Keep your eyes on me. What did I say? Don't you wanna cum? I won't make you cum if you don't look at me."

"If you keep pushing back on my stomach, I'll bend you over and make you be still. Don't test me, love."

"You're not in charge here, sweetheart, lose the attitude before I fuck it out of you."

"I could do whatever I want to you, and you'd still thank me for it, wouldn't you, angel? My grateful girl, feel me give you what you need."

"You know how to do it, don't act like you don't. Smart girls like you shouldn't need reminders. Play with yourself, I'll wait."

"Why am I not moaning? Because I'm busy talking to you, angel. Don't be rude. Take this dick and talk to your boyfriend. You can multitask."

"I know I'm fucking you slow, but it's the only way you'll feel each and every part of me in that cunt. Dragging out your orgasms makes this so fun, pretty."

"If you pass out, I'll just fuck you back awake, I promise, baby. You won't miss me too much."

Yunho

degrading, objectively, mockingly, much like he knows better than you.

"You don't get to decide anything. I do what I want, and you'll like it anyway."

"Aw, fuck baby... those marks are gonna turn such pretty colors against your skin. Yeah, you'll wear them proudly for me?"

"Stupid slut, willing to humiliate yourself for me? Fuck you're addicting."

"Every time I slap you, you clench around my dick. That's kinda fucked up, baby. If I choke you, will you cum so hard you piss yourself?"

"Oh, but you like it this deep, baby. I know you, you like having your cunt stuffed full and your head emptied."

"Oh, you're so sad, beautiful. I love when you're sad, cause I can fuck it out of you, fuck you till you're so empty and all you can think of is me."

"Needy things like you need to be roughed up every once in a while, helps readjust that bratty attitude you like to get your way with."

"c'mon princess, tell me you love me. Tell me you love me, and I might kiss you. Would the bruises feel better if I kissed you?"

"Mm, I fucking love splitting this cunt open. So wet and so pretty, so beat up. What would you do without me?"

"You're learning so fast, baby, I bet you love that you can't cum without my permission. You are bound to me through your body."

Wooyoung

teasing, playful, bully-like, much like he finds your pleasure amusing

"C'mon say it into my mouth. 'Wooyoung...' like that. Let me taste my name on your tongue while I play with you."

"Good girl, good girl, yeah, you feel full? That's so cute, you have no idea all the things I can make you feel. i wanna drive you fucking crazy."

"You like when I whine for you. Pretty boy, pretty voice, yeah? You love being fucked by someone just as pretty as you."

"You're trembling, isn't that precious. Don't be so greedy, baby, I have all day to string you out."

"I know you're trying so hard for me to not cum, but I hate playing fair. I want you to fail. If I pinch your clit, will you fall apart?"

"Don't worry, I'll cover your mouth so you don't embarrass yourself. Yeah, there you go, now just focus on me hitting that spot."

"Let me see those pretty teeth you like to bite me with. Smile when I'm dicking you down, dollface, let me know that pussy feels good."

"You sure you don't like it when I make fun of you? My dick is so wet I keep slipping out. Mhm, I think someone likes being bullied."

"I love taking you against the wall. I can invade all your personal space, make you feel so trapped."

"I love it when you cum, and it makes me even fucking harder when I know you can't run from it."

Jongho

indifferent, lofty, careless, like he’s oblivious to the way he makes you feel

"I'm barely fucking you, and you seem so out of it. Don't tell me I've broken you."

"You don't know what's good for you, doll, c'mon let me do what I want. It might even feel good."

"You might be sore in the morning, but you're willing to make that sacrifice for me, aren't you, honey?"

"Hush, don't tell me you can't. No one wants to hear that, you can and you will."

"Why're you moaning so loud, hm? What if I grind into you? Will you quiet down?"

"C'mon, let's count, maybe it'll help you focus. Ground yourself, we've got a long way to go."

"You get so loud when I slap your clit, who knew you'd be so impolite. You hardly even fight, so pliant."

"You're mine. Your body does what I tell it to. Isn't that pathetic? So easily conditioned to me."

"Don't fight it, honey, cum. Let go so I can get back to teasing you until you cry. I love when you cry, it makes me so fucking hard."

Mingi

vulgar, unashamed, attentive, much like there’s no place he would rather be

"Oh, baby... feel every inch of me, arch that back, get me deeper. just like that."

"You're so small, I wanna crush you. You're so fucking cute, you make me lightheaded."

"I'm in your stomach? Oh, I'm sorry, baby. What if I pout? Will you forgive me? I'm so sorry. What if I pound that pussy harder, hm? How bout now, still mad at me, gorgeous?

"You're so warm around my dick... you're everything. Oh my fuck."

"Slow down? hm? Make me. Stop me, baby, you know what to do. I'm too heavy? not my problem."

"I'm not gonna hurt you, I'm gonna take my time with you. imma give it to you the way you like."

"Don't tap, no running. You feel too good, baby. You hear how wet you sound?"

"Feel my hands, I got you. I'm holding you, baby; you aren't going anywhere. Ride it out for me."

"Moan my name properly, c'mon. You choke every time I fuck back into you; you're making me sad here, beautiful."

"I am being nice to you, mami. There's nobody nicer than me who can make this pussy cream all over your sheets."

[aeyla]

WOOYOUNG’S??

[teezslvt]

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

── ˚₊‧ 💋 ɞ₊‧˚ ateez x fem!reader ── mdni 𓆩♡𓆪 explicit smut, domme kink, dom/sub dynamics, dom!reader, sub!ateez, light bdsm, mentions overstimulation, praise, degradation, teasing/edging, aftercare, orgasm denial, handjobs, rimjobs, anal fingering, oral sex (m & f receiving), cumplay, mind games, choking, p in the v, use of toys (strap-on/chasity cage), pegging, crying, semi-public play, exhibitionism, dry humping, consensual power imbalance, nipple play, spit kink, foot kink, mommy kink, brat-taming, possessiveness ⸝⸝ᵕ ༯ᵕ⸝⸝ eight different flavors of submission <3 ── word count: ³.⁸ᵏ 💄 “mm… not until you beg for it. use your words.”

A/N: basically I was tapping into my domme brain and thought about how they are all so beautifully bottom but each of them would need a specific domme energy brought to the table, making them fall apart in their own filthy, unique way. please consume responsibly. this has been in my drafts for over a year and I finally finished wahoo! enjoy my cherries ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊ feedback is always welcomed!

ཐིཋྀ ⸻ domme energy types:

degrader ⸝⸝⸝♡ you like them embarrassed ⛓️ teasing, humiliation, name-calling

mindfuck mistress ⎊ you own their headspace ⛓️ anticipation, denial, slow unraveling

brat tamer 𖤐 you live for the backtalk just so you can ruin them painfully slow and put them in their place

overstim queen ⭑⭒ you don’t stop at one orgasm, you stop when they cry (and maybe not even then)

caretaker 𓂃𓈒𓏸 you ruin them gently ⛓️ praise, nurturing, and control with affection

power worshipper ⟡˚˖ you dominate through being adored ⛓️ they serve, you receive

now let’s see which hands each member crumbles under…

🐶 𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗁𝗈 ⸻ 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖽， 𝗈𝖻𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗒

best domme match: overstim queen + caretaker

whimpers when you touch him, cries when you edge him. whispers “thank you” through tears after his third orgasm.

feeds off your praise and gets rock hard just from your voice.

wants to please you more than he wants to breathe.

he’s on his back, legs parted, wrists tied to the headboard in soft silk. flushed from head to toe, hair plastered to his forehead, chest heaving with every shaking inhale, thighs trembling—he’s wrecked.

“you’re doing so well for me, baby. just one more, I know you can.” you purr, palms pressed flat to his chest as you straddle his hips, still hot, wet, and pulsing around him—your bodies warm and sticking together.

he whimpers, fingers curling into fists, trying to stay grounded.

he’s already come undone three times, and he’s barely holding on—hips stuttering, jaw slack, tears streaking down his reddened cheeks.

his abs contract, breath catching in broken gasps, his whole body on the verge of collapse. he blinks up at you with glossy eyes, mouth parted, barely able to form a sentence—completely gone, nothing but a pretty mess beneath you.

“please—I’ll do anything, I just want to be good for you—” he chokes, voice cracking.

his cock is aching, raw and swollen. so sensitive it jumps at every brush of your walls engulfing him, twitching helplessly even before you move.

your hips roll slow and cruel, dragging another raw sound from his throat as he squirms beneath you. you clamp down and his entire body jerks. he’s overstimulated beyond reason—hard again, throbbing inside you, scared of how intense it feels.

his head rolls back and he sobs helplessly, the pleasure sharp and overwhelming, blurring into pain. “I can’t- I—please, it’s t-too much…fuck.”

“yes, you can,” you brush the damp dark locks from his face. “you’ve been so good. just one more for me, sweetheart.”

if cock-draining was an olympic sport, you’d be taking gold with how many times he’s spilled himself inside you—but you still want more from your pathetically fucked-dumb angel.

he cries out, erection twinging uncontrollably in your wet heat as you grind down on him without pause, his hazy, fluttering gaze locking with yours.

“th-thank you—” he mutters breathlessly.

“good boy…” you whisper as your lips kiss his throat gently.

if he cums again, he’s finished—and he knows it. but he’s going to do it anyway, for you.

🔥 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗂 ⸻ 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗉𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌

best domme match: overstim queen + mindfuck mistress

his entire body is one big please wreck me signal.

gets sensitive fast, moans loud, loses his mind from overstimulation and slow control.

gets hard again and again even as he’s sobbing—you live for the way he breaks.

thighs squeezed together, whimpering when you pry them apart. he’s slouched in his gaming chair, flushed and leaking, cock twitching in the cool air like it’s begging for mercy.

you lean down and kiss his pelvis—slow, unhurried—before dragging your tongue up his length without giving him what he really wants. his hips jerk like you just short-circuited something inside him.

your fist wraps around him: slick with your spit and his cum, already stiffening again, thrumming hot against your hand. “such a pretty cock you have…always so eager for more.”

hovering over him with a smirk, your fingers brush just under the tip—barely—and he shudders, breath catching like it physically hurts to be touched.

you stroke him once. pause. twice. then stop again.

“p-please—” he gasps, hips shifting helplessly in the chair, chasing after your grasp. “don’t tease—just—”

you giggle—cruel and sweet—then click your tongue, “look at you—still twitching? didn’t I say I wasn’t done?”

he half-sobs, thighs tensing, needy little whimpers that melt into moans as he reaches out for your wrist, grabbing hold of the one that’s working him.

“ah ah,” you chide, shaking him off, “don’t get greedy.”

denied, his hand drops back and claws at the armrest, leather creaking under his piercing grip, knuckles white as you pump him in agonizing strokes, his whole body squirms under your touch.

he’s panting hard now like he just ran a marathon, each breath stuttering, chest heaving as your thumb swipes over the slit and makes him cry out.

“it’s t-too much, I can’t—oh fuck, fuck, I—” his voice breaks completely, your name caught on a sob, erection pulsing and leaking into your palm.

you tighten your hold a bit, edging him steadily, keeping him right of the precipice of release and then snatching it away. his body convulses in defeat, head thrown back, eyes fluttering and his adam’s apple bobbing with desperation.

it’s a sight, truly—how intensely he falls apart. his face red to the tips of his ears. eyes shining with tears he’s too wrecked to wipe away. and you’re not stopping. not yet.

“don’t you dare,” you grab him by the chin and kiss him sloppily, searching the inside of his mouth with your tongue before pulling away, “you’ll take it until I say so.”

his body shakes. “please—please—” he blinks up at you, pleading and barely coherent. he doesn’t know how much more he can take—his brain’s gone fuzzy, vision blurring at the edges.

but you don’t let up. milking him with unforgiving fingers until he’s ruined and still reaching in his chair: soaked, quivering, barely able to breathe past the sounds he makes for you.

🐱 𝗐𝗈𝗈𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗀 ⸻ 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗎𝖽 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗁

best domme match: brat tamer + degrader

talks back. tests limits. pretends he’s in control—until you yank it away ruthlessly.

loves being manhandled, tied down, and told to shut up.

melts when you finally praise him after making him work for it.

you’ve got him pinned to the wall, wrists bound behind him with your red lace thong. he’s smirking like he’s still in control—

one hand curls tight around his throat—unrelenting, possessive—the other shoved beneath his shirt, fingers grazing up to his nipple. you pinch, just hard enough to make him jerk. his whimper sharp and throaty.

“what’s that? not so smug now with my hand on your throat?” your nails drag lightly over his skin before giving the bud a sharper twist.

the grin slips. his lips part. he’s still trying to hold it in—chin tilted, jaw clenched—but the moan claws its way up anyway, all breath and tremble.

his lashes flutter, heat blooming high on his cheeks as your thumb brushes over his nipple again—slower this time, crueler. he gasps, hips twitching instinctively. melting.

“sensitive here?” you tease, lifting his shirt higher so you can duck your head and flick your warm tongue over the delicate nub.

when you suck, his whole body squirms, skin prickling.

“you—” he chokes out, breath catching again, eyes already glassy like he hates how much he likes this.

now comes the pouting—chin tucked, brows furrowed, cock rock-hard and grinding into your thigh like it had a mind of its own, unraveling like clockwork.

“f—fuck—” he throws his head back and gulps, “you.”

“aw, is my little fucktoy hard?” his face turns as red as a cherry while you giggle mockingly, “want me to make you cum?”

he nods too fast, hips rutting helplessly as your words echo in his head. he’s already leaking into his underwear, a damp patch darkening the fabric and sticking to your leg, giving him away.

“say you’re sorry or I’ll edge you tonight. over and over. no release.” you growl.

he freezes. whines low. “sorry—I’m really sorry, please…” he breathes, broken and dizzy for it, voice cracking as he begs.

you smile, devilish and slow, dragging your knee up against his clothed length until he sobs out another strangled whimper. “so needy for me already… and I’ve barely touched you.”

“p-please…” he choked gasps rumble from his chest as you rub your knee against his sensitive bulge.

“shut up and open your mouth,” you command, gripping his chin with a vice between your fingers.

hesitantly, he parts his thick lips. without warning, you drool spit onto his tongue and watch his eyes roll back, like he was drunk off the mere taste of you.

“swallow it, my pretty little slut.” you coo, biting and licking at his throat as he gulps hard, clutching your waist for dear life.

🪞 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗃𝗈𝗈𝗇𝗀 ⸻ 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁

best domme match: mindfuck mistress + power worshipper

he knows how to dominate—but loves surrendering to someone sharper.

tease him, make him beg to cum, humiliate him just enough to see him break.

wants to serve but will never admit it until you pull it out of him.

“you look so pretty like this. all that control gone,” your voice low in his ear and bruising clutch against his rear.

he hates how much he loves being vulnerable like this—nude, ass up, eyes locked on the long mirror while your fingers spread him open tauntingly slow, like you’re unwrapping a gift he doesn’t deserve.

“keep your eyes on yourself,” your nails digging into his hips. “I want you to watch the way you fall apart for me.”

he swallows hard, throat bobbing, cock twitching underneath him. he nods—barely. his voice is gone, replaced by shaky breaths and bitten whines.

“pathetic,” you don’t raise your voice, but it’s loud enough for him to hear. “wet and untouched. I should leave you like this.”

he flinches when your thumb glides over the glistening pink flesh between his cheeks, exposing his pretty little hole to the cool air and the full view in the mirror.

he can’t look away—even as his face burns, even as shame twists in his gut, his eyes stay glued to the reflection.

“look at you,” your breath hot on his skin as you lower yourself behind him. “fucking perfect like this—needy and soaked for me.”

your tongue drags slowly over the sensitive ring of muscle, teasing, licking with lazy precision until he lets out a guttural moan—sharp and wrecked—hips bucking forward only to be yanked back by your grip on his waist.

“want to cum already?” you tease, ignoring the way his hips jerk. “you haven’t earned it yet.”

he chokes on a sob, nodding frantically, face pressed to the sheets. “ah—fuck, please—” his voice cracks. “feels s’good, please…”

when your tongue presses in, firm and unyielding, his thighs tremble. head dizzy, back arched, hole fluttering as your spit slicks him up. each inhale punches through him, ragged and loud.

then your fingers follow—one, then two, pushing in soft and deep, scissoring him wide until his legs shake and his moans dissolve into pliant, broken whimpers.

“tell me what you are—” curling your fingers just right, you admire how he clenches and melts around you.

“…yours.”

🐺 𝗌𝖺𝗇 ⸻ 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗂𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗌

best domme match: brat tamer + caretaker

pushes back at first. growls, groans, tries to keep composure.

but once you get him on his knees? he gets addicted.

he worships hard, loves praise, and needs aftercare like air. you’ll ruin him, then hold him close.

he starts it—grinning as he wrestles with you on the couch, playful but smug, cocky with every dodge and grab.

you flip him fast, straddling his hips, pinning his wrists down. his breath catches. the smirk starts to fade.

“still think you’re in charge?” your lips brush his ear, tightening your grip until he squirms beneath you.

you slide off his lap and command—“on your knees, now.”

his chest heaves, hesitation flickering in his eyes. but he drops, slowly, sinking to the floor in front of you.

you walk away to the bedroom. his eyes follow you the whole time—until he sees what you pull from the drawer.

the strap.

he shifts on his knees, visibly aching—hard and straining against the fabric of his sweats, his breath coming shallow now as you approach him.

“open up.” you guide it to his lips, and he obeys. tongue first, then deeper—licking, sucking, moaning around it like it’s your real cock, completely devouring it. you groan at the sight.

he’s practically shaking by the time you pull back—spit-slicked lips, glossy-eyed, flushed. you’re mesmerized by how ethereal and slutty he looks, full of need and hunger.

“keep behaving for me… I’ll take care of you, pretty thing,” softly dragging your thumb across his wet mouth, “now turn around and bend over.”

he whimpers and drapes himself over the back of the couch, hips raised in full submission as you come behind him, shoving his pants to his ankles.

your palm caresses his hip as you line up the toy to his tight heat, sliding in slow—inch by inch—your hands firm on his waist as he moans, fluttering and clenching around your faux cock.

“you always fight so hard—until I’m inside you.” you tease, thrusting deep until his breath stutters, eyes rolling back as he claws at the cushions.

“p-please…fuck—d-don’t stop,” he begs and whines, legs trembling with every snap of your hips.

the pace builds, your voice in his ear—“that’s it, baby. just like that, be good and take all of me.” pressing your lips to the back of his neck, you reach around and fist his throbbing cock, stroking gingerly and watch him fold entirely under your touch.

when it’s over and he’s boneless and quiet, cum leaking down his thigh, he slumps against you, sweaty and panting, eyes sparkling with bliss.

you thread your fingers through his hair, lips brushing his temple as he shudders in your arms, murmuring praise—“you did so well, my good boy. I’ve got you.”

🐻 𝗃𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈 ⸻ 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗂𝖼 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗎𝖽

best domme match: overstim queen + degrader

built like a wall, yet you tear him down like paper.

he tries to be quiet, to hold it together. he fails.

the first time he moans for you, it’s all downhill—he’s vibrating, trembling, shocked by how much he’s falling apart. and you love every second of it.

you return home from store, parking in the driveway, neighbors chattering just beyond the windows, everything seemingly normal. that is, until you climb into the backseat.

“come here,” you grab at his shoulder and he hesitates for a moment but obeys, joining you next to the bagged milk.

making out turns heavy fast. his hot mouth moves lithely against yours, tongues massaging together, devouring each other. you straddle him within minutes, seated gently.

hands sliding up and down your thighs, squeezing your flesh and dusting his fingertips under the hem of your skirt. his hips jerk like he wants to stop it—but he can’t.

“fuck…baby—what are you doing?” he curses against your lips but you don’t hear a thing, moaning into him and unconsciously rutting your hips back and forth.

riding him over his clothes, your fingers tangle in his hair as you suck and nip his lips hungrily, until his head’s spinning from it.

soon enough you feel how hard he is under the denim, the bulge poking your cunt at the perfect angle for you to thrust against. “two more days of denial, right? so, you can have this.”

his cock is already on edge, drooling through the fabric at the slightest friction. he’s beyond needy and has been gagging for release, not allowed to touch himself either.

grinding your core with wrecking motion, it drives him crazy. his desperate hold roams behind you, gripping your ass roughly, kissing you with low, stuttering huffs.

he lets out a frustrated groan, your hands splaying across his muscular chest, nails digging in his shirt to keep him grounded as he spirals and squirms. you press yourself down harder.

“wait—hold on, I-” he’s babbling in protest but you won’t relent.

you rub more against the strain in his pants: once, twice, and then he’s convulsing, hips stuttering as he spills in his jeans, gasping with humiliation burning on his face.

“already?” you smirk mockingly, cupping his flushed face as his eyes flutter, “poor thing…and here I am just getting started.”

dragging it out, you roll your hips without mercy, his fingers dig into your waist—white-knuckled, useless—choking on whimpers that dissolve into sobs.

your mouth latches onto his throat. his soaked length twitches beneath you, still trapped in his boxers, painfully tender. the raw scrape of his damp clothes only worsens it, every drag over his erection feeling like fire.

he’s flustered and slick with sweat, his voice cracks as he tries to whisper through gritted teeth, “p-please, too much—can’t…”

he erupts again without warning, crying out, unsatisfied and messy, thighs quaking as his body writhes, trying to pull away but you just keep him pinned.

you coo at him as if he’s a toy, “make those sounds again. louder. let me hear what this does to you.” swiveling even slower over his cock, watching heat rise up his neck as he breaths erratically.

“didn’t think I’d get you like this, huh? look at you now.” your words taunt him, hating how much he loves it, hating how effortlessly he breaks apart for you.

eyes glassy, he begs—not for more, but for less. “b-baby…n-no more, I—fuck—can’t.”

your broken name caught on his tongue, he’s gone. completely gone, clawing at your skin, desperate to pretend it’ll stop the overwhelming pleasure tearing through him.

🦋 𝗒𝖾𝗈𝗌𝖺𝗇𝗀 ⸻ 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝗌𝗎𝖻 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝗎𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒

best domme match: mindfuck mistress + caretaker

sensitive, elegant, reserved—until he’s not.

you draw the filth out of him. loves when you keep him on edge. blushes when you praise him.

gasps and shakes when you whisper what you’ll do to him next. you control the build-up perfectly.

crimson rope over flushed skin, arms bound behind him, shoulders tense, the delicate ripple of pink silk under his thighs.

he sits upright against the pillows and headboard, completely nude, legs parted under your lingering, heated gaze. his perfect form on full display as you stalk the foot of the bed in awe.

“look at you…you’re such a pretty toy sangie,” you coo, biting the tip of your finger to resist touching him for now, “all tied up and on display—just for me.”

his eyes darting to where your lingerie hugs your curves. you settle between his knees, sitting on the heels of your feet.

leaning down, you kiss his knee, then the inside of his thigh, lips grazing closer—but you don’t give his cock any attention, instead you continue to kiss up his abdomen, trail across his hips, and drag your tongue along the crease of his thigh.

his erection reddened and twitching but untouched.

a shared kiss is…ravenous. full of need and lust, tongues rolling harmoniously, leaving your mouths wet and tingly. his body instinctively slumps forward, trying to get more of you.

resting your hand on his chest, you push him back, giggling under your breath, “down, boy. treats reward patience, right?”

you’re gentle but commanding, making him anticipate your next move. your finger circles around his tip, playing with the drooling pre-cum, watching him quiver under your touch.

“you look too cute when you’re trembling…think you deserve to cum yet?” his muscles tense under his bare skin at your toying words, already overwhelmed by the attention and praise.

“I’m going to suck your cock now, baby,” you whisper against his swollen tip, tongue flicking along the slit once, “and you tell me when you’re going to cum, okay? I want it all down my throat.”

his whole body shudders, nods too fast, voice caught easily.

you hum around his tip, the vibrations making him gasp—his thighs jerking on either side of you as your tongue laps at the underside of his cock.

then you take him deeper. slow, steady, until your nose brushes his skin and your throat flutters around him.

you pull off completely every time he gets close. he whines and stutters, “p-please, I was close…”

you smile, staring into his tear-brimmed eyes, “good, then do it again.”

he cries out, voice breaking, barely able to warn you through moans and sobs, “c-cumming—”

but you don’t stop. not even when he spills down your throat, hands fisting nothing behind him, whimpering as you swallow every drop.

when you finally pull off with a wet pop, he’s flushed and dazed, breathing ragged, barely able to lift his head.

“good boy,” you purr, licking your lips as you cup his jaw, “so pretty when you let go for me.”

🧃 𝗌𝖾𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗐𝖺 ⸻ 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎

best domme match: power worshipper + caretaker

will literally cry while going down on you because he’s so desperate to please.

hands always roaming your thighs, eyes locked on yours, begging “please let me taste you again”.

he thrives on obedience and praise.

when you arrive home, he’s already in position, waiting eagerly by the door exactly as you instructed. it’s impossible not to smile.

on all fours, naked, wearing his collar and leash, and stuffed inside his chrome silver cock cage.

you take him around to the kitchen, settling your ass on the table as you part your legs in front of him, revealing a lack of panties covering your holes.

“wanna taste?” you tease, slipping your fingers through your wet folds as his eyes widen and a spit of drool lingers at the corner of his mouth.

he nods and licks his lips hungrily, rutting his hips against the air.

“tsk, tsk.” a soft moan escapes your throat as you played with yourself, making him whimper. “mmm…not until you beg for it. use your words.”

“please…please mommy…” he whines, his boba eyes shimmering with tears, “I’ll do anything, just let me make you feel good—”

you place the bottom of your toes to his lips, cutting off his cries.

“then prove it.”

kissing each toe like it’s holy, he sucks gently with his tongue attentively curling around them.

a hand grips your ankle as he moans into the arch of your foot.

his eyes glassy, silently pleading for praise—but you don’t say a word…not yet. he looks too pretty when he’s needy.

“enough.” you snatch your leg away, scooting to the edge of the table, pointing to the space directly between your thighs. “sit right here and stick your tongue out.”

he obeys without hesitation.

you move to bury his tongue into your juicy center, grinding on his mouth as your hand fists his hair, riding his face with ease.

“that’s it, hwa. just like that. keep your tongue out for me.”

eyes locked with yours, he groans into you and you giggle as his hands lovingly caress your thighs.

“you can move your tongue now. eat me as you wish.” that’s all the signal he needs to start sucking your aching clit, plunging his tongue deep into your hot core.

you curse his name, giving his hair another firm tug. he works you like you were his last meal, his devotion knowing no end.

his flat tongue glides up and down your insides, stirring the fiery pressure in your gut. “good boy, you’re gonna make mama cum.”

your cunt flutters around his tongue as your orgasm ripples through you and he laps up every trickle of cum that spills past his lips, moaning against your sopping flesh.

“you did so well, hwa,” you purr breathlessly, patting his head.

your foot flicks against his caged cock as you bite your lip with a devilish expression, “should I free you as a reward?”

“if you want…” he kisses your knee, stifling his grunts each time you give a soft kick to his crotch.

“you gonna cum a lot for mama if I let you out?” dragging your foot along his groin, you press lightly on his gut and watch him quiver with delicate restraint.

visibly swallowing hard, he still nods eagerly as he rubs his face against your leg, like a cat in heat.

“anything mama wants…” he rasps, earning a pleased grin from you, his patience attracting you like a moth to a flame.

taglist: @maliabobea15 |

© written by teezslvt— do not steal or claim as your own 𓆩♡𓆪

[notaprophet]

[sanngi]

👉👈 (cr.)

[forwijen]

18+ MDNI!!!

yo to have your pussy eaten by these two at the same time?????

mingi would be a messy eater. would spit in your hole, tongue all out and gliding it flat along your cunt. prioritizes your hole more bc he loveesss drinking your slick straight from the source, gets pussy drunk a lot faster than yunho. would be the type to gently bite at the clit and then suck it afterwards, teasingly flicking it with his tongue.

yunho on the other hand i feel would take his time eating you out. would rather have you crumble under his tongue bit by bit, slowly. he'd tease you by kissing around your inner thighs first. proceeds to your clit, wrapping his lips around it then swirl his tongue on it, almost as if he's making out with this part of yours. prefers to fill your hole with his fingers while his mouth works on the folds and clit

the sight of two heads between your legs, devouring your pussy like starved men is overwhelming. you'd rather have your eyes shut along the ride if not for yunho slapping you on the thighs when you do so. he'd force you to look at how your cunt is affecting them, force you to show them how good you're feeling.

they cooperate so well (as expected), one focusing on your entrance, while the other focuses on other areas especially your clit. they do sometimes share your hole together, it's a bit messy but they make it work. each tongue taking turns prodding at it. often they would clash with one another and when it happens they're not shy to lick and suck at each other's tongue, groaning at the taste of you.

and they'd notice the way a generous amount of slick pours out your hole, the way your clit throbs under yunho's thumb when they're swapping spit under you. turning their eyes to see you biting your lip hard, a smirk growing on each men's face when your hips jerk up, whining for them to get their mouths back on you

[yuyusbabygirl]

Perv!Yunho headcannons

perv!Yunho who pockets your panties

perv!Yunho who will snap pics of you when you're sleeping

perv!Yunho who will come up behind you when you bend down and grope your ass, maybe start dry humping you

perv!Yunho who will come in when you shower, join you and make you cum just because he wants to play with you

perv!Yunho who will get you to put on costumes for him. nurse, schoolgirl, officer, etc

perv!Yunho who will stick his fingers into your mouth when your talking and start playing with your tongue, admiring how your eyes go glassy and how you will let him do what he wants before taking his fingers out again and tell you to keep talking, acting like nothing happened

perv!Yunho who will jerk off to your voice when you're on the phone with him

perv!Yunho who will grab your boobs when you're walking past him

perv!Yunho who makes you show him what panties you're wearing each day

perv!Yunho who will come up to you to spit in your mouth and tell you to swallow before walking away again

perv!Yunho who will push his cum back into you with his fingers, just playing with your freshly fucked pussy and laugh at you mockingly when you whine and shake because it's too much

perv!Yunho who loves seeing you eat creamy foods

perv!Yunho who walks behind you when you're walking up the stairs. ESPECIALLY when you're wearing a skirt (wouldn't resist snapping a pic)

perv!Yunho who wants to see you fucked out and drooling every time you have sex

"my little pornstar. always so eager to please me. what's that? can't take it anymore? aww, poor thing. too bad I'm not done"

(I could make more like this)

[starberryhwa]

ohmygoddhdhdh

[aeyla]

Wouldn’t mind a rerun of this… that clip of Yeosang calling him out for being a perv and then them all gaming up on him…

[baby-yongbok]

La Petite Mort

Hwang Hyunjin x afab!reader x Bang Chan

⤷ WC - 3.5k ⤷ CW - Fingering, MxM (MMF), oral (f &m rec.), protected sex, spit, double use, Exaggerated themes of euphoria, alcohol consumption, Lowkey themes of fuckboy Hyunjin ⤷ Summary - You and your husband, Chris, let Hyunjin be whatever he wants to be at your house. It's only here that he takes a break from being a ghost and lets himself feel something.

La Petite Mort translates to 'a brief loss or weakening of consciousness'. It refers to the sensation of orgasm as compared to death, rebirth, or pure euphoria.

→ Masterlist

Hyunjin has a thing. A complex he can't shake no matter the detriment. He calls himself an experimentalist. A soul who loves love. His exes would call him something different. 

They don't matter. He doesn't care. That's his problem. 

The mirror in the bathroom is slick with steam, the crystal of the fixtures above it are cloudy. Hyunjin finds his reflection in the metal of the shower door, broken into pieces. Jaw, mouth, collarbone—every part dissolving into something else he doesn't care to recognize.

He's detached, in a house that's more familiar than it should be, with people who don't require him to feel anything but euphoria. He's spoiled here. You and Chris spoil him. 

He rinses conditioner from his hair, hums and lets it bounce off the glass. Hyunjin moves slowly, deliberately, like time might stretch if he treats it gently. Dinner is in ten minutes. That means you’ll be seated, your husband beside you, wine already poured and the table set with the guest china. He's a guest here. Nothing permanent, nothing expected. A ghost who's welcome to haunt when he feels haunted. 

The water is scolding. He's used to it, likes it a little too much. He shuts it off before it can mark him, something he’s become a pro at. The muted clink of glass fills the space that the shower left behind. Chris’ voice carrying up the stairs, your laughter. The sounds slide under his skin but never settle. He towels off slowly, folds the towel over his shoulders, presses it to his hair, and just leaves it. He breathes—one, two, three. Wait, again. Three, four, five. That's good. He's good. 

He has a drawer here. Clothes you’ve bought him, some that Chris gave him like they were always meant to be his. Today, he wears something you picked for him. You said you thought of him when you saw it, said it reminded you of that one painting he did. Muted blue with petals that fade into dust. It waits on the counter, expensive tags embossed and untouched at the hem. He never pops the tags. He never believes that they're his, not really. Doesn't want to risk feeling attached. 

The shirt slides over his shoulders, the pants sit low on his waist, then Hyunjin pads down the warmly lit hall. Every footfall is measured like he wants you both to hear him coming.

“There he is.” you hum, leaned back in your chair like the wine is already working. “Your wine is getting warm.” Hyunjin brushes past your shoulder and takes the glass, sips slow. 

“We'll just have to pour him another glass then.” Chris smiles, easy and warm. A friend he knows near nothing about but smiles for anyway. “C'mon, dinner is ready.” Dishes clink, seats are taken, you serve while they watch. Chris’ hand settles low on your hip when you come around the table and Hyunjin takes it all in. Comfortable. 

“So,” Chris starts, picking up his fork, “let me guess, you and your girlfriend broke up.”

Hyunjin smiles, small and deceptively shy. “She wasn't my girlfriend.”

“Would she think that too?” You ask, smiling down at your plate. Hyunjin side eyes you. “That's a no.” The three of you laugh and the rest of the conversation follows easily. Fresh wine is poured with every topic change. Food disappears slowly.

“It's like everyone wants to find prince charming in their English lit class.” Hyunjin scoffs, sipping his second full glass of wine. “It's college, not love island. I'm not interested in commitment, I'd rather just–”

“Hang out with a married couple that's five years older than you?” Chris teases, eyes crinkling with a smile. 

“Exactly.” Hyunjin tips his glass towards him. “You two know what I am already.”

“Oh, yeah? And what's that?” You lean in, chin rested in your palm, eyes glassy from the wine.

Hyunjin swirls the liquid in his glass, watching the middle sink. “A ghost.” Silence follows for a beat before Chris breaks it.

“Is that what the kids call it?” Chris glances at you. “I thought he was a fuck boy with attachment issues.”

You shrug, standing with a stretch. “Honest mistake.” The three of you laugh again, just the way Hyunjin likes it. Nothing taken too seriously, not questions that try to make him feel anything he’s not interested in. Silence settles again until Chris’ voice cuts through it. “You want dessert, Hyun?” The question hangs in the air, stretching out longer than it should.

And then—just like that—he’s not at the table anymore.

Dinner plates are cleared, candles guttered low. Hyunjin’s third glass of wine warms him from the inside out, light pooling behind his eyes. The sounds around him fracture into their own universes—cars passing outside, the crackle of the record player, but he chooses to tune into the laughter.

“How are you feelin’?” Chris’ voice cuts through the haze. It starts as a murmur, then echoes louder in his head. 

Hyunjin swallows, breathes deep, ribs expanding like elastic and stomach full. He's good. “So good.”

He leans back against the couch, fingertips pressed into the sides of his glass. His eyes focus on the two of you, on the halo of soft light spilling over your and Chris’ shoulders. Music drifts low and heavy. The two of you move together to an old song, slow, fluid, hypnotic. Chris’ hand rests on your waist, wandering lower like a tide, waiting for the right moment to pull you in. Hyunjin's breath picks up when he clocks it, caught between wanting to join or just watch.

The heat in him unspools like smoke. His eyes follow every curve, every subtle motion. His gaze climbs—waist, ribs, collarbone—up, up, until his eyes meet Chris’. He smiles, your husband really smiles, like now the night has finally started. When Hyunjin comes here he doesn't want to feel real. He doesn’t want reasonable conversation or to be held. No, he wants to escape. He wants euphoria. 

Time pours like honey, flooding the space like it wants to give you a moment to taste it. Hyunjin is present. Focused. Maybe too focused. He watches the way your toes spread with every step, the way Chris shamelessly palms the swell of your ass, and you're watching him too. Mouth parted like he wants to wet his lips with you, stiff beneath the linen pants you picked for him and nothing else. 

It's titillation induced by comfort. Arousal provoked by the absence of emotion. Hyunjin doesn't want you to care about him. He asked you not to. The clock ticks once, twice, double. Hyunjin blinks. He swears he only blinks. 

The space has shifted again. He's sitting with Chris now, a new record is playing, scratching then correcting itself. The sound crackles into something foreign, french he thinks, Neither of you speak it. Not really. You're just good at making him feel like you do.

Amber candle light catches in your wine glass, flickering like it's learning how to breathe. You're dancing. Hyunjin watches, blinks, refocuses, then loses it. He looks over and Chris is already looking back.

“Ya know” Chris glances over at you, tracing the sway of your hips. “She was like this in college,” Their eyes meet again, lingering, like they're both preparing for something they don't have to say out loud. “Ethereal. Free-spirited and stubborn as hell. Had to marry her.”

“You're lucky.” Hyunjin mutters, voice rough with something thinner than restraint. “You're rich, even without the money”

The corner of Chris’ mouth ticks up, “You can be, too.” The low light of the chandelier traces you into everything reflective until you're surrounding them. Until your image echoes. Chris' hand is on Hyunjin’s thigh, he barely feels it. It sinks into him. The space shrinks, and Hyunjin leans in first. He always leans in first. Your feet slow, your smile spreads, and their breath syncs. Hyunjin’s gaze drops, traces Chris’ lips as if he hasn't tasted them for months. He watches your husband's tongue skate the seam—then he chases it. 

The kiss is slow, clumsy in a way that grounds your spine. Chris presses in, Hyunjin moans and slips his tongue across your husband's. They lick into each other's mouths, moans sync to the grove of the record and play back over and over. 

“There you go.” You're behind Hyunjin now, palms smoothing over his shoulders while your knees sink into the couch cushions. “This is what your girlfriend is missing.” You tease. 

“Not my girlfriend.” Hyunjin mumbles, reaching back, palm pressing to your knee.

“Then you'll have no problem forgetting about her.” you whisper, kissing the shell of his ear, then trailing to the corner of his mouth. They break the kiss to let you slot in-between. It's lips then tongue, then lips again. The mix fizzes under your skin. 

You fall back first, laugh bubbling sweetly. “I think I had too much wine.” you sink into the sofa, they turn and watch. “It's hot.”

Hyunjin mutters, eyes wandering down, down, over the curve of your breasts, free beneath soft muslin. “That's just you.” 

Chris laughs, the record scratches, the tempo changes. It's tip toeing now, transgressing right before you all. Hyunjin watches it slip into you, watches your knees fall apart, your dress rides up.

“You're that hot, baby?” Chris muses, knowing damn well that the wine is an excuse. He reaches past Hyunjin to rub your bare knee. His fingertips press hard enough to make you moan. Hyunjin's breath hitches. “Feel her f'me. How hot is she?”

It's still for a beat, only the music exists, then Hyunjin joins it. He moves slowly, turns, fingers shaking like his wrists are 808's. He moans when he touches you, eyelids fluttering and fingers pressing deeper into where you're begging for attention. “Holy shit.” 

“Hyun–” your back bows with ease. Fingers digging into the pillows at your side. “More” 

You whine when he doesn't move, he keeps his touch shallow, tracing. Pointer and middle spreading your sticky folds then filling the space. Chris takes mercy on you. His hand moves from your knee to Hyunjin's, then to his wrist. Your husband guides him, drives his fingers deeper with a gentle force, then whispers, “how hot is she?” 

The record cuts. Skips. Hyunjin’s breath shallows, fingers flexing deep inside you. “Hot,” he mutters, sobered by the squeeze of you. “runnin’ a fever.” 

Chris hums, feigning something other than focused desire. “Got any remedies?”

You moan, buck up—then Hyunjin’s knees are pressed into the carpet. One of your legs draped over his shoulder while Chris presses your other thigh back. 

Hyunjin's tongue is buried, fucking deep, curling up again and again. You taste like spring water, smell like rose water. Your husband's cheek is pressed to your thigh, cooing at you even though he knows words melt into nothing for you right now. 

“S’good, huh? I know, baby. I know.” Chris smooths your hair back, presses his thumb over your bottom lip then slips it over your tongue. “Go ahead, suck—that's it, darling. That's my girl.”

You keen, loud and pathetic. Hyunjin slurps, trails the tip of his tongue higher, circles and sucks your clit between slick lips. “Can you come on his tongue for me?” Chris spreads your spit over your bottom lip. “Come in his mouth so I can taste it.”

You choke on a syllable, try again, and break into a wail. “B–baby—” they don't know which one you're talking to. They assume both. Hyunjin licks, tongue flat and the tip flicking. Chris spits down onto your cunt and Hyunjin’s tongue, palming the flesh he's holding out of the way. 

You break somewhere in-between—legs trembling, breath wet with euphoria. Hyunjin rides it out with you, tongue flat and lapping, head shaking against you with moans that vibrate through your bones. 

You're slack, lost for the moment. Chris lets you go, Hyunjin pulls back, then they collide. Sharing the taste, lips smacking and tongues hurried. Your husband pulls Hyunjin up from his knees by his collar and stands with him, they slot into each other flawlessly. 

Chris' palm presses firm over Hyunjin’s cock, stiff with anticipation. “Bet it's droolin'.” he bites Hyunjin's lip, pulls just a little. 

“Touch it and find out.” Chris’ hand brushes up Hyunjin's length, his own stiffness rubbing up against his thigh. Their moans grow louder, hands move faster. Hyunjin grabs Chris' ass and you sigh from your spot on the couch.

“Show me.” Chris sits, brown eyes pleading.“Wanna see you.”

Hyunjin's cock jumps, a rush buzzing forward, body hot. His thumb hooks into his waistband, grazing the tag, then drags the fabric down. His stance widens, cock springs impatiently. 

“Fuck.” he watches Chris, watches the way your husband licks his lips, leans forward and sticks out his tongue. Chris’ mouth is warm, sliding down slowly with a torturous hum. 

“oh my–jesus” Hyunjin’s head falls back, you dip your fingers into yourself, Chris bobs his head. “Yeah. yeah, yeah, fuck, please.” His hips buck and your husband's hands slide up Hyunjin's thighs to knead the flesh. He takes him so deep he gags. You moan this time. 

“Such a pretty cock sucker, baby.” you coo. Hyunjin cradles the back of Chris’ head, fingers knotting in the cropped messy blonde. “Choke on him again.” he does. Hyunjin nearly doubles over from the feeling, knees threatening to buckle. 

Chris pulls away with a string of spit connecting him, he licks it, breaks it. Hyunjin’s eyes are low-lidded, watching Chris notice the tag still on his pants. He knows what it means, knows he doesn't feel like it's really his. Not getting attached. So, he plucks it with a single pull. Hyunjin doesn't move, he lets the moment air out. It feels like a kiss, feels like winning.

Time moves like a sandbag through the air after that. Hyunjin finds a glass of wine on the coffee table, not his, he sips anyway. Behind him, the couch creaks beneath your weight, your knees are pressed into the couch cushions, hands busy working at Chris’ pants. Hyunjin stands at the arm of the couch, naked, watching like he paid to. Chris gives him a look and he passes the glass to him.

"Don't get shy on us." Chris purrs, sipping slow and humming against the rim when you take him in. His attention turns to you, watching inches disappear between drooling lips. “C'mere” he’s talking to you now. His fingers card through your hair slowly, lacing through at the back of your head and guiding you up, up, up all the way to his mouth. His lips touch yours, pucker, and the wine slips right onto your tongue. Warm with the taste of him. 

Hyunjin watches a ruby rivulet trail over your jaw, then neck, pooling lazily. You're back on Chris' cock in an instant. The amber lamp behind the couch catches like fire on your skin. “You can feel her. You know you can.” The men catch eyes, both glassy with the same shade of need.

It's slow, like you're being stalked before a kill. Hyunjin slips in behind you, the condom wrapper already half open between his fingers. He grazes first, a slight brush of his fingers—thigh, hip, waist. Then he grabs. His other hand smooths over your ass, squeezing the swell of it while your husband watches. Hyunjin's hand pulls back, then—“mmph”. Chris shutters at the feeling of your moan. The pop stains the air. He does it again, you jerk, moan, take Chris deeper. Again. Again. Hyunjin’s fist is tight around his cock, rolling the condom on then stroking the leaky tip.

He kneads the stinging flesh, pressing himself against it, against you. “I have to…I have to–” Hyunjin pushes in slowly, sinking into sopping, gooey flesh that hugs him just right. “holy shit.” He always says that when he feels you.

You choke a wet moan around Chris’ cock. He holds your head down. “You're not done yet, baby.” then he bucks up, dragging a strained sound out of you. 

Hyunjin copies him, shifting his hips in a shallow thrust that crosses your already bleary vision. You're drooling from both ends, fucked out before they even truly start. The two of them sync like a cruel machine. One pushes, the other pulls. The sounds are obscene, raw, and wet, the only thing Hyunjin can say he owns here. 

This is his. He feels it in his chest, in the way his skin stings with the threat of ecstasy bigger than he can hold. Chris watches him—really watches him—sees the way Hyunjin’s shoulders are set forward, the way his breath keeps stuttering like he’s chasing it and losing every time. 

“You’re so good for us” Chris says, low, rough, like he's coming out of himself to remind him. Hyunjin moans, lifts his head just enough. “This is all you’re good for, yeah? All we need.” His jaw tightens. A beat, then a breath dragged in through clenched teeth. 

“Fuck, yes, yes.” The air feels thicker now. Every sound lands harder—the slip of skin, the muffled drag of breath, your watery moans. It builds. 

You choke, and both of them feel it. “Look at you,” Chris mutters, hand splayed between your shoulder blades. “Gone.”

“She feels unreal.” Every word that comes out of his mouth is stretched thin, pressed out of him in time with uneven thrusts. He watches it. He watches his cock split you open again and again, the amber light catching where you're slick. “So fucking—God.” He watches Chris, cock wet with you, hips working your throat like he bought you for it. His brows are pinched together in that pretty way Hynjin likes, breathy hot moans spilling into the air. Then there’s you, in the middle of it all,boneless and brainless. Somewhere else entirely and nowhere at all. 

“Shit, I'm gonna come.” His head drops forward, spine bowing, the last of his restraint burning off like paper. He bites his fist, fingers digging into your hip. Yes. “Gonna fucking—oh god.”

Chris groans, “That’s it,” his own restraint tipping fast, “Just like that, let me see you.” It happens without warning. Not an orgasm, not a regular one where it’s one at a time. There’s no chain reaction, no. It’s a single moment pulling tight, like you all inhaled and forgot how to let go.

Hyunjin feels it coil low and sudden, heat surges up his spine so fast it steals the air from his lungs. His hands tighten reflexively on you, breath breaking apart as his body recognizes the edge before his mind does.

In front of you, Chris goes still. Not frozen—focused. His head tips back, throat exposed, chest lifting as if he’s bracing for impact. The sound he makes is barely there, swallowed, like he’s afraid to break whatever fragile alignment you’ve slipped into.

His hand slides over the back of the sofa without thinking. Hyunjin takes it. Their palms press together over your body—warm and shivering with euphoria.

That’s when it breaks.

Hyunjin gasps, sharp and wrecked, the sound punched out of him as his knees threaten to fold. The world tilts. Light fractures. He loses the edge of himself all at once—every rule, every role, every careful thought burning off in a rush.

Chris exhales hard, a curse dissolving into something breathless as the feeling tears through him, unfiltered. And you—caught between them—feel it crash through all three of you at once. A collective unraveling. The room seems to pause, suspended in the exact second before gravity remembers what it’s supposed to do.

Hyunjin’s forehead drops to your shoulder as the aftershock ripples through him. Chris’s hand stays locked with his, knuckles white, breath still uneven like he’s surfacing from deep water.

The record stopped playing minutes ago, the candles are guttered and the room is near dark. No one noticed.

Hyunjin laughs under his breath, thin and wrecked. His eyes flutter shut, lashes wet, mouth parted in something that might be a smile.

“That felt like…” He doesn’t finish it, he lets himself feel it instead. It felt like being reborn without asking. He knows you both felt it, too.

The world rushes back in slowly, sound first, then light, then weight. He shifts, frees you from the space you hold between them, and the first thing you do is kiss your husband. Crawl into his lap, lucid and smiling. Chris pulls Hyunjin closer, hand still in his, and he reluctantly settles into his side. Hyunjin takes a breath—one, two, three. Wait. Three, four, five. That's good. He's good. So good.

a/n: I wrote this is January... I decided to just stop being so hard on myself and post it. I hope that was the right choice :) Thanks for reading!

❥ Taglist is will be re-done soon!

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[aeyla]

Thank you for gracing the world with this marvelous piece

[channlust]

࿐ the party & the after party - ft.hyunchan (MDNI!)

You don’t know how long it’s been. an hour? Two hours?

You lost track when Chan first pushed you back onto the bed, his mouth hot against yours, while Hyunjin’s hands slid up your thighs. Time blurred when they switched - Hyunjin’s lips capturing yours, all tongue and teeth, while Chan’s breath ghosted over your stomach, going lower, lower, until you arched off the mattress with a choked gasp.

Then it was Chan pinning you down, fingers tight around your wrists, as Hyunjin’s mouth worked between your legs. You whimpered, thighs trembling, but Chan just shushed you, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone like he was soothing you even as he held you in place.

When they swapped again - Hyunjin’s weight pressing you into the sheets, his hands roaming - you barely had time to catch your breath before Chan’s tongue dragged up your slit, slow and filthy, and you sobbed into Hyunjin’s shoulder.

Now, one of them - you dont remember who - turned on a playlist, some song by the weeknd playing in the background. you’re sprawled across Hyunjin’s lap, his cock hard beneath you, his fingers playing idly with your nipples, twisting, making you squirm.

Chan is inbetween your spread legs, one hand gripping your hip, the other guiding himself into you with a low groan. “Fuck,” he mutters, sliding in deep, and you gasp, head tipping back against Hyunjin’s chest.

Chan’s fingers tighten on your hip, pulling you down onto him, and you choke out a moan as he starts moving, slow at first, then deeper, rougher. “You take it so well,” Hyunjin murmurs in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. His thumbs circle your nipples, teasing them into stiff peaks before pinching just hard enough to make you whimper.

Hyunjin’s hand drifts lower, fingertips tracing circles over your stomach before dipping between your legs. His touch is light, teasing, just barely brushing your clit until you jerk against him with a sharp gasp. “Oh my- Fuckk” you whine, hips bucking involuntarily, but Chan’s grip tightens on your waist, holding you steady as he thrusts deeper, dragging a ragged moan from your throat.

Chan’s hands slide up your body, fingers tracing the curve of your throat before settling there, pressing justtt hard enough to make your breath hitch. His grip tightens as he fucks into you harder, his hips snapping forward in a rhythm that has your vision blurring.

Hyunjin’s fingers circle your clit faster, the pressure building until you’re writhing between them, gasping for air that won’t come.

“Please-” you manage, voice ragged, but Chan just shakes his head, “You can take it,” he murmurs, his own breath uneven. “Just a little longer.” His thrusts stutter, deeper now, and you choke on a moan, nails digging into Hyunjin’s thigh.

Hyunjin exhales sharply against your ear, “So fucking pretty like this,” he murmurs, voice full of admiration. His palm slides up your chest, tracing the curve of your breast before cradling your jaw, tilting your face toward his. “so perfect,” he breathes, and then his mouth is on yours, tongue sliding against yours in a slow, filthy drag. You moan into the kiss, the sound swallowed by his lips, as Chan’s hips snap forward, filling you so deep your toes curl.

Hyunjin breaks the kiss just enough to pant against your lips, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Love hearing you,” he says, “Love feeling you shake.” His hand drops back to your breast, squeezing just shy of too hard, and you arch into it with a gasp, your hips rocking back against Chan’s thrusts.

“I can’t- I can’t take it,” you gasp, voice cracking, your body strung tight between them. “Please, please let me-”

Chan’s grip on your throat eases just enough for you to drag in a shuddering breath. His hips slow, grinding deep inside you instead of pulling out, his cock twitching where he’s buried to the hilt. “You wanna cum?” he murmurs. His other hand slides down your body, fingertips tracing the sweat-slick curve of your waist before settling between your legs, pressing hard against Hyunjin’s fingers still circling your clit. “You wanna come on my cock while he plays with you?”

You whimper, your whole body trembling, the words catching in your throat. “Yes or no, baby,” Chan asks, his hips rocking forward, the drag of his cock inside you slow, maddening. His breath hitches when you clench around him, your thighs shaking. “you're gonna have to say it.”

You sob, your hips bucking uselessly between them, oversensitive,“Yes- yes, please,” you gasp, the words slurred, your voice breaking. “Please let me cum, please-”

Chan’s grip tightens on your throat just enough to cut off your next whimper, his hips snapping forward in one sharp, brutal thrust. “Then cum, baby” he says, and that’s all it takes- your body seizes, pleasure ripping through you so hard your vision whites out.

his rhythm stutters, his hips grinding deep as he groans, his cock pulsing inside you. You feel him cum, the hot spill of it, the way his fingers dig into your hip hard enough to bruise.

Hyunjin’s hand leaves your breast, sliding down to press against your stomach, right where Chan’s cock is buried inside you, and you sob at the pressure, oversensitive, “Fuck,” Chan breathes, his voice thick, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he rides out his orgasm, his thrusts slowing to lazy, rolling grinds.

Hyunjin’s fingers curl into your hair, tilting your head back against his chest as he murmurs, “Good girl,” against your temple, his lips brushing your skin. His other hand still works your clit, slow now, drawing out the last waves of your orgasm until you’re squirming.

Before you can catch your breath, Chan’s hands are on your hips again, flipping you over with a rough, effortless tug. The sheets scrape against your stomach as he maneuvers you onto your knees.

Your face lands inches from Hyunjin’s cock, the heat of it against your cheek. You don’t hesitate- your mouth opens, tongue dragging along the underside before taking him in. Hyunjin groans, his fingers tangling in your hair, guiding you deeper. Chan’s cock slides back into you from behind, just as a new song plays.

a/n: gov ball hyunchan made me do it now you guys deal with the aftermath #thankyouforcumming

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[channlust]

࿐ the party & the after party - ft.hyunchan (MDNI!)

You don’t know how long it’s been. an hour? Two hours?

You lost track when Chan first pushed you back onto the bed, his mouth hot against yours, while Hyunjin’s hands slid up your thighs. Time blurred when they switched - Hyunjin’s lips capturing yours, all tongue and teeth, while Chan’s breath ghosted over your stomach, going lower, lower, until you arched off the mattress with a choked gasp.

Then it was Chan pinning you down, fingers tight around your wrists, as Hyunjin’s mouth worked between your legs. You whimpered, thighs trembling, but Chan just shushed you, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone like he was soothing you even as he held you in place.

When they swapped again - Hyunjin’s weight pressing you into the sheets, his hands roaming - you barely had time to catch your breath before Chan’s tongue dragged up your slit, slow and filthy, and you sobbed into Hyunjin’s shoulder.

Now, one of them - you dont remember who - turned on a playlist, some song by the weeknd playing in the background. you’re sprawled across Hyunjin’s lap, his cock hard beneath you, his fingers playing idly with your nipples, twisting, making you squirm.

Chan is inbetween your spread legs, one hand gripping your hip, the other guiding himself into you with a low groan. “Fuck,” he mutters, sliding in deep, and you gasp, head tipping back against Hyunjin’s chest.

Chan’s fingers tighten on your hip, pulling you down onto him, and you choke out a moan as he starts moving, slow at first, then deeper, rougher. “You take it so well,” Hyunjin murmurs in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. His thumbs circle your nipples, teasing them into stiff peaks before pinching just hard enough to make you whimper.

Hyunjin’s hand drifts lower, fingertips tracing circles over your stomach before dipping between your legs. His touch is light, teasing, just barely brushing your clit until you jerk against him with a sharp gasp. “Oh my- Fuckk” you whine, hips bucking involuntarily, but Chan’s grip tightens on your waist, holding you steady as he thrusts deeper, dragging a ragged moan from your throat.

Chan’s hands slide up your body, fingers tracing the curve of your throat before settling there, pressing justtt hard enough to make your breath hitch. His grip tightens as he fucks into you harder, his hips snapping forward in a rhythm that has your vision blurring.

Hyunjin’s fingers circle your clit faster, the pressure building until you’re writhing between them, gasping for air that won’t come.

“Please-” you manage, voice ragged, but Chan just shakes his head, “You can take it,” he murmurs, his own breath uneven. “Just a little longer.” His thrusts stutter, deeper now, and you choke on a moan, nails digging into Hyunjin’s thigh.

Hyunjin exhales sharply against your ear, “So fucking pretty like this,” he murmurs, voice full of admiration. His palm slides up your chest, tracing the curve of your breast before cradling your jaw, tilting your face toward his. “so perfect,” he breathes, and then his mouth is on yours, tongue sliding against yours in a slow, filthy drag. You moan into the kiss, the sound swallowed by his lips, as Chan’s hips snap forward, filling you so deep your toes curl.

Hyunjin breaks the kiss just enough to pant against your lips, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Love hearing you,” he says, “Love feeling you shake.” His hand drops back to your breast, squeezing just shy of too hard, and you arch into it with a gasp, your hips rocking back against Chan’s thrusts.

“I can’t- I can’t take it,” you gasp, voice cracking, your body strung tight between them. “Please, please let me-”

Chan’s grip on your throat eases just enough for you to drag in a shuddering breath. His hips slow, grinding deep inside you instead of pulling out, his cock twitching where he’s buried to the hilt. “You wanna cum?” he murmurs. His other hand slides down your body, fingertips tracing the sweat-slick curve of your waist before settling between your legs, pressing hard against Hyunjin’s fingers still circling your clit. “You wanna come on my cock while he plays with you?”

You whimper, your whole body trembling, the words catching in your throat. “Yes or no, baby,” Chan asks, his hips rocking forward, the drag of his cock inside you slow, maddening. His breath hitches when you clench around him, your thighs shaking. “you're gonna have to say it.”

You sob, your hips bucking uselessly between them, oversensitive,“Yes- yes, please,” you gasp, the words slurred, your voice breaking. “Please let me cum, please-”

Chan’s grip tightens on your throat just enough to cut off your next whimper, his hips snapping forward in one sharp, brutal thrust. “Then cum, baby” he says, and that’s all it takes- your body seizes, pleasure ripping through you so hard your vision whites out.

his rhythm stutters, his hips grinding deep as he groans, his cock pulsing inside you. You feel him cum, the hot spill of it, the way his fingers dig into your hip hard enough to bruise.

Hyunjin’s hand leaves your breast, sliding down to press against your stomach, right where Chan’s cock is buried inside you, and you sob at the pressure, oversensitive, “Fuck,” Chan breathes, his voice thick, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he rides out his orgasm, his thrusts slowing to lazy, rolling grinds.

Hyunjin’s fingers curl into your hair, tilting your head back against his chest as he murmurs, “Good girl,” against your temple, his lips brushing your skin. His other hand still works your clit, slow now, drawing out the last waves of your orgasm until you’re squirming.

Before you can catch your breath, Chan’s hands are on your hips again, flipping you over with a rough, effortless tug. The sheets scrape against your stomach as he maneuvers you onto your knees.

Your face lands inches from Hyunjin’s cock, the heat of it against your cheek. You don’t hesitate- your mouth opens, tongue dragging along the underside before taking him in. Hyunjin groans, his fingers tangling in your hair, guiding you deeper. Chan’s cock slides back into you from behind, just as a new song plays.

a/n: gov ball hyunchan made me do it now you guys deal with the aftermath #thankyouforcumming

taglist:@yourqueenlady @kloversung @hycnsung @seagulljk @eyyyylucieeee @zosauce @minniebitesfr @jazz7gnab @stormynight-240 @ariaaleelynn @pedropacals0l0s @caalcyon @hyunjinswife4ever @11racha @starlostjisung @straykitten88 @mandmilovehim @hanjinology @breakmeonce @carrotcakeesblog @supernaturalsunny @gwinamlvr @parkairis18 @g0obz @tumvlrgirlsblog @atetheluck @shortcake-whoops @mylovchris @avchannie @emeraldgem22 @pinkyrec @yourtypicalnerd @skzhyunjinwifey @stryscribbles @jektaev @cb9711 @lostinmymind-daydreaming @b4echo @viisstrayy @binniebb @angellixmar @gnablana @non3ofurbusiness @kitty-bleh @klarkapascal @toxixcherry @allthingsavengery @strawberristhings