summary: in which your boyfriend was too tired to hide your sex tape on his laptop
warning: oral, fingering, squirting, voyeurism
genre: smut
pairing: idol yunho x afab reader x ateez watches
word count: 3.1k
masterlist
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Tokyo was still glowing outside the hotel windows when Yunho shoved his laptop into Yeosang’s hands like a man already running late. “Hurry up,” Hongjoong called from the hallway, half dressed, hat low over his eyes while managers tried to herd everyone downstairs before traffic got worse. “If we miss check in again I’m leaving somebody in Japan.”
“Probably Wooyoung,” Jongho muttered.
“Rude.”
Yunho barely reacted, already pulling his jacket on while talking to staff. He looked exhausted. The last week in Japan had been nonstop schedules, performances, interviews, dance rehearsals. His hair was still slightly damp from a rushed shower, and there were faint shadows under his eyes as Yeosang adjusted the laptop under his arm. “You sure all the choreo files are here?”
“Everything’s labeled,” Yunho answered distractedly. “New demos, practice formations, performance references. Just connect it to the studio monitor.” Then his phone buzzed and the second he looked at it, his entire face softened and Wooyoung saw it immediately and groaned dramatically. “Ugh. He got a text from her.”
Mingi snorted from where he was dragging his suitcase. “Look at him smiling.”
“I’m not smiling.”
“You literally are.”
Yunho rolled his eyes, but his thumb was already typing back. You’d gone home three days ago to visit your family while he stayed in Japan for solo schedules, and ever since then he’d been annoyingly attached to his phone.
Hongjoong pointed toward the elevator. “Lovebirds later. Move.”
Yunho looked back once toward Yeosang. “Just don’t touch anything else on there.” That should’ve sounded more suspicious than it did. But nobody thought twice about it. Because Yunho’s laptop always looked the same. Dance folders. Music drafts. Performance videos. Gaming lives downloaded. Thousands of clips from practices he obsessively recorded and reviewed. Nothing unusual.
At least… not that anyone knew.
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The practice room speakers blasted the new track loud enough to rattle the mirrors while everyone ran through choreography for what felt like the hundredth time. Hongjoong cut the music with an aggravated sigh. “Again. San, half a second earlier on the turn.”
“I was earlier!”
“You were spiritually earlier.”
Wooyoung collapsed dramatically onto the floor. “I’m going to die in this room.”
“You say that every comeback,” Yeosang replied calmly. Sweat clung to everyone after hours of rehearsing. Empty water bottles littered the corners. Mingi was sitting against the mirror catching his breath while Jongho stretched nearby. Yunho still wasn’t back from Japan. Which meant the center formations felt weirdly empty without him there towering over everybody.
Hongjoong rubbed his face tiredly. “Let’s check the reference recordings again. Yeosang, did you bring Yunho’s laptop?”
“Yeah.” Yeosang walked over to his bag near the wall and pulled it out. “He said everything’s organized.”
Wooyoung snorted. “That man has folders inside folders inside folders.”
“He scares me technologically,” San agreed as Yeosang connected the laptop to the big studio monitor while the others gathered around, still breathing hard from practice. The desktop appeared onscreen with folders everywhere over a background wallpaper of Yunho and you.
“See?” Wooyoung pointed. “Psychopath behavior.”
“Open the comeback demos,” Hongjoong said and Yeosang clicked through folders while everyone loosely argued over choreography changes behind him.
Dance_FINAL.
Dance_FINAL2.
Dance_ACTUALFINAL.
“Jesus Christ,” Mingi muttered.
“I told you,” Wooyoung said as Yeosang finally found the right folder and opened it, dozens of video files appearing across the screen and Hongjoong nodded toward one near the bottom. “That one.” Yeosang clicked without looking closely.
For one completely normal second, the screen stayed black before audio filled the room. A soft laugh. Your laugh. Nobody reacted at first because their brains genuinely needed a second to catch up as the video quality was dim and warm, obviously filmed late at night. Yunho was behind the camera, face briefly visible in the mirror across the room as he adjusted the angle. His hair was messy, lips caught between his teeth in that distracted little habit he had when he was focused.
Then the camera tilted lower. Toward the bed. Toward you and the entire practice room froze. You were kneeling on the mattress wearing nothing except one of Yunho’s oversized flannel shirts, the fabric hanging off one shoulder while you laughed softly at something he’d said behind the camera.
“Oh my god,” San whispered immediately as Yeosang’s hand spasmed on the trackpad and Wooyoung slapped both hands over his mouth so hard it echoed. Mingi made a strangled noise somewhere between a cough and a scream as Hongjoong stared at the screen like it had personally betrayed him.
“Nope,” Jongho said instantly, already turning away. “Nope. Turn it off.” But nobody moved. Because now Yunho’s voice filled the speakers, low and affectionate in a way none of them had ever heard before.
“Baby, look at me.”
The way he said it was the problem. Not cocky. Not joking. Completely gone for you. Onscreen, you glanced toward the camera with a shy smile while Yunho laughed softly behind it, clearly obsessed with filming every reaction you made.
Seonghwa lost it first. “No wonder he’s always tired.”
“TURN IT OFF,” Hongjoong barked, finally regaining consciousness. Yeosang, panicking now, fumbled the mouse completely wrong and somehow fullscreened the video instead and the room erupted.
“YEOSANG!”
“I’M TRYING!”
Mingi was bent over laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe while San had physically thrown himself against the mirror in dramatic distress. And right before Yeosang finally managed to pause it, Yunho’s voice came through the speakers one last time. Soft. Amused and completely whipped.
“You’re so pretty like this.”
The practice room went so quiet the speakers sounded too loud. Nobody should’ve still been watching. That was the insane part. Every single one of them knew they should’ve shut the laptop the second they realized what the video was, but now it felt like witnessing a car crash in slow motion. Horrifying. Intimate. Impossible to look away from.
Onscreen, you slid off the bed slowly, Yunho’s flannel swallowing you whole as your bare legs disappeared out of frame for a second. The camera shifted slightly when Yunho adjusted his grip on it, like even he had gotten distracted watching you move toward him. Then you literally crawled across the floor toward him and seven grown men stopped functioning simultaneously.
“Jesus Christ,” San muttered, hand over his face.
Jongho looked actively pained. “We should turn it off.”
“Yeah…” Mingi answered immediately, voice suddenly deeper somehow. “Totally.”
Nobody moved. Not one of them. Wooyoung was clutching Yeosang’s shoulder so hard Yeosang physically winced, but even he couldn’t stop staring at the screen in complete disbelief at his roommate. Because Yunho looked insane. Not lustful. Not playful. Gone. Completely gone for you.
The camera dipped slightly as you settled on your knees in front of him, and for a brief second Yunho glanced toward the lens like he remembered he was filming. That little glance alone nearly killed the room because his expression was so openly wrecked over you it felt invasive to witness. Then his eyes dropped back down to you and his entire face softened again.
Hongjoong made a noise like he was spiritually leaving his body. “I know too much about this man now.”
Onscreen, Yunho’s hand appeared briefly, brushing your hair back gently before disappearing again.
“Mine,” his voice murmured through the speakers.
Wooyoung folded in half onto the floor. “HE’S WHIPPED,” he shouted.
“He’s been whipped,” Seonghwa scoffed as Mingi was still staring at the screen with narrowed eyes like he was re evaluating everything he knew about Yunho as a human being and his best friend.
The room stayed frozen. Not one of them saying a word now. The joking had died somewhere in the last thirty seconds, replaced with the horrible realization that they were watching something way too intimate to ever erase from memory again. Onscreen, Yunho lowered the camera carefully onto his bedside table, adjusting it with practiced ease until the frame captured the entire room. The edge of the bed. The floor. You between his legs in that oversized flannel looking devastatingly soft against the darker lighting.
Then Yunho leaned back slightly while you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his sweats and Wooyoung inhaled so sharply it sounded painful. Nobody looked away. They couldn’t as the fabric dragged slowly down his thighs, and the collective silence in the practice room somehow got even heavier. Yunho was already visibly hard, muscles tense beneath the dim bedroom lighting while he watched you with that same wrecked expression that had everyone spiraling minutes ago.
San rubbed both hands down his face. “We are never recovering from this.”
“Not a single recovery,” Mingi muttered.
The worst part was how quiet the video itself was. No music. Just soft movement, breathing, occasional little laughs from you, and Yunho’s low voice every now and then like he physically couldn’t stop talking to you. Hongjoong finally tore his eyes away long enough to glare at Yeosang. “Why are you still holding the laptop like you’re presenting this to the class?”
“I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO,” Yeosang whisper yelled back as Jongho stood with his arms crossed so tightly he looked like he was trying to hold onto the last threads of his sanity. “We seriously need to turn it off,” he said again. Nobody disagreed but still nobody moved.
Because onscreen Yunho reached forward suddenly, one hand brushing along your jaw before tilting your face up toward him, his thumb lingering there for a second like he couldn’t stop touching you even while filming then he moved his hand down, wrapping firmly around the base of his dick. He gave it a slow stroke as you knelt there, mouth parting wider at the sight, tongue extending flat and eager.
Yunho tapped his tip against your tongue once, twice, the wet sound barely audible over the quiet breaths in the room. He dragged it across your lower lip, smearing a bead of precum before pulling back just enough to repeat the motion. The group stayed locked on the screen, Hongjoong's jaw tight, Mingi's fingers digging into his own thighs, Wooyoung still folded forward but peeking through his fingers now.
"Fuck," San muttered under his breath, the word barely formed as they watched you open wider, and Yunho finally let you have it. Your lips closed around the tip first, tongue swirling slow and deliberate as you took the first few inches into your mouth. The pace stayed unhurried, your head bobbing in measured movements that let every vein and ridge drag against your tongue and Yunho's free hand rested on the back of your head, not pushing yet, just resting there while his low voice filled the speakers. “That's it, baby. Nice and slow for me."
The video captured every detail, the way your cheeks hollowed slightly on each pull back, the soft glisten of spit building at the corners of your mouth, the way your eyes flicked up to meet his. Yunho's breathing grew heavier, his hips shifting forward in tiny thrusts as you worked him deeper inch by inch and Yeosang shifted in his seat, the movement loud in the silence. Nobody joked anymore. All eyes stayed glued to the footage.
Your pace built gradually. You took more of him on each descent, throat relaxing as the head nudged farther back. Yunho's fingers threaded into your hair, and then he started guiding. A gentle press at first, then firmer, pushing your head down until your nose brushed the base of his dick. He held you there for a beat before easing off, letting you catch air, only to repeat it on the next stroke. “Look at you taking it so deep already. That mouth was made for this, wasn't it?"
The group watched in stunned silence as the rhythm changed. Yunho's grip tightened. He began thrusting into your mouth in controlled rolls of his hips, using the hold on your head to set the depth. Each push sent the head sliding past your tongue and into your throat, the wet sounds growing louder as you gagged softly around him once, twice, but kept going, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes on screen. “Go on baby…. Fuck yourself," Yunho ordered through the speakers, voice rough.
Your hand moved immediately. Two fingers slipped between your thighs, parting your folds before sinking inside your pussy in one smooth motion and you moaned around him at the stretch, the sound vibrating through him visibly as his abs tensed on screen and your fingers pumped in time with his thrusts, slow at first, then matching the pace as he fucked your mouth harder.
San leaned forward, eyes wide. "Holy shit."
Yunho's praise poured out steadily. "Good girl, just like that. Taking every inch so well. This video's gonna be mine to watch later….. gonna fuck my fist to the way you choke on me." His dick twitched in your mouth on screen, the head swelling as he used your throat with deeper, shorter thrusts making your gagging grow wetter, sobs hitching around him while your fingers worked faster inside yourself.
The room stayed frozen except for the subtle shifts of the guys adjusting themselves, arousal clear in the way they couldn't look away. On screen, your body trembled. Your fingers curled inside your pussy, hitting the right spot until your thighs shook and you came hard, squirting around your own hand, the fluid glistening on your skin and the carpet as your moan broke into a choked cry around Yunho's dick.
Yunho didn't stop. He held your head steady with both hands now, thrusting deep and steady through your orgasm. His dick pulsed, and then he buried himself to the hilt, coming down your throat in thick pulses as you swallowed every drop, throat working visibly around him until he eased back, letting you breathe. A thin string of spit and cum connected your lips to his dick as the video faded on the final soft praise from his voice.
The practice room stayed silent for a long moment after, every member hard and flushed, the weight of what they'd just witnessed settling heavy.
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The second Yunho walked back into the practice room after returning from Japan, every single member started acting like they were being hunted for sport. It had been two full days since the incident. Two days of pretending it never happened. Two days of Wooyoung randomly bursting into hysterical laughter during meals.
Two days of Hongjoong threatening violence anytime someone even mentioned laptops.
And now Yunho was finally back in Seoul completely unaware that seven people had accidentally watched the most intimate video of his life. Which somehow made it worse. Especially because he was acting normal. That was the terrifying part. Just… regular Yunho. Stretching before practice. Drinking iced coffee. Running choreography like nothing catastrophic had happened because he had no idea.
“Why are you all acting like I died?” Yunho finally asked after San nearly walked into the mirror avoiding eye contact.
“No reason,” Hongjoong answered instantly. Suspiciously fast and Yunho narrowed his eyes as the practice room door opened and immediately his entire expression changed as you walked in carrying bags of food and coffees balanced in your arms, smiling brightly. “I come bearing peace offerings because apparently none of you eat unless someone mothers you.”
Wooyoung made a sound like a dying victorian man as Mingi physically turned around and Jongho coughed into his hand so violently Seonghwa had to smack his back.
You blinked, furrowing your brows. “What’s wrong with everybody?”
“Nothing!” seven voices answered at completely different pitches and Yunho looked even more confused now, already walking toward you to help with the food. The second he reached you, one hand settled automatically at your waist while he took the bags from your arms. “Thanks, baby,” Yunho said casually, pressing a quick kiss to your temple and Hongjoong closed his eyes briefly like a man enduring psychological warfare.
You watched the members awkwardly scatter around the room avoiding you entirely and frowned. “Okay seriously, they’re acting weird.” Yunho shrugged, completely oblivious while unpacking containers onto the table. “They’ve been weird all day.”
Across the room, San accidentally made eye contact with you for half a second and immediately looked away then choked on air making you stare harder now. “Did something happen while you were gone?”
Seven men collectively looked like they were about to enter cardiac arrest as Yunho glanced up slowly. “Why does it suddenly feel like I should be concerned?”
Mingi finally cracked first. Probably because Yunho kept staring around the room like he was five seconds away from starting an interrogation. He cleared his throat, arms folded tightly across his chest. “So… hypothetically…”
Hongjoong pointed immediately. “Don’t.”
“No, because we can’t keep acting like this,” Mingi shot back.
“We absolutely can,” Jongho argued.
“We really can’t,” Wooyoung wheezed from the floor as you looked between all of them in growing confusion while Yunho narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “What happened?”
Mingi sighed like a man accepting death. “We might’ve…” He paused. “Watched something on your laptop.”
You blinked once.
Yunho blinked twice. “What?”
“You know,” Mingi continued vaguely, refusing to elaborate while Wooyoung was already shaking, trying not to laugh. “Something that maybe wasn’t choreography.”
Still confused, you looked toward Yunho. “What does that even mean?”
Then Yunho froze. Actually froze. Like someone had unplugged him from reality and the color drained from his face so fast it was almost impressive. “Oh no,” he whispered and Wooyoung immediately lost it. “A LITTLE 18+ DOCUMENTARY,” he shouted, pointing accusingly at Yunho while collapsing against the mirror.
Your entire body went still as Yunho slowly turned toward Yeosang first. “What did you open.” Though he already knew the answer. Yeosang looked seconds away from tears. “IT WASN’T LABELED!”
“It was in the choreography folder!” Hongjoong exploded.
“I WAS TIRED!”
You stared between all of them, realization dawning in horrifying slow motion as your jaw dropped. “Oh my god.”
Yunho slapped both hands over his face instantly as Mingi looked at the ceiling. Wooyoung was physically on the floor now laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe and Jongho looked ready to move countries as Seonghwa pointed at you and Yunho like a courtroom witness. “For the record, none of us wanted to see it.”
“That is such a lie,” Wooyoung yelled from the floor.
“No because why did nobody turn it off?” you demanded, face burning now.
“WE TRIED!” Yeosang defended himself.
“You fullscreened it!” Hongjoong shouted back.
Yunho still hadn’t uncovered his face. “You watched the whole thing?” he asked slowly through his hands and Mingi suddenly found the wall fascinating. San coughed and Hongjoong looked away as Seonghwa, Jongho, Yeosang and Wooyoung just stared in silence.
🩶Summary: when a master Jedi is sent to convince a senator to not put forward a bill that will be detrimental to the Jedi's plans for the future, no one ever specified how the senator needed to be convinced.
🩶Pairing: Jedi Master! Park Seonghwa x Senator! Reader (f)
🩶Genre: smut
🩶Au: sci fi, star wars, politician
🩶Trope: strangers to lovers
🩶Warnings: mind manipulation (he's using his jedi mind tricks for good), reader is tattooed/vh piercing, oral (f), squirting, shower sex, protected sex, multiple rounds
🩶Rated: 18+, MDNI
🩶Word Count: 2,881
🩶divider by @thecutestgrotto
“Senator, your dinner has arrived.”
You looked up from the holodisk you had been reading and blinked profusely. A handsome man sat across from you in the VIP lounge you had been sitting in. You looked around but it didn’t appear as if anyone was stopping him.
Not one to be surprised by being taken off guard, and as a Senator of the Republic, you played along. “I’m afraid I’ll have to send you back to the kitchens. You are most definitely not what I ordered.”
The man shrugged, the deep v-neck of his clothes straining for a moment before falling loosely against his chest. “On the house. No need.”
You leaned forward, putting your elbow to your knee. “Tell me who sent you. Mingi? He’s always looking for someone else to take the fall when his rumors are floating around.”
“You’d look a gifted Nekko in the mouth?” The man seemed to settle into the seat across from you as if he wasn’t moving anytime soon.
“I’m not going to be caught up in anything nefarious so close to one of my bills passing, so, if you please.” You motioned with your hand for the man to move on.
“Park Seonghwa, if you would please.” The man made a hand gesture as he said, “And I think you’d much rather have some company while you eat.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to eat with someone,” You acquiesced suddenly.
The man smiled to himself and then began to dig into the other meal before him. “Tell me about this bill you’re looking to pass.”
You frowned while you chewed. “My planet has been plagued by a pirate clan that seems to think we’re ripe for the picking. If we could pass a bill monitoring every ship in and out of our space ports by a third party company, my planet would be able to flourish.”
Seonghwa licked his lips and nodded like it made complete sense. “Sounds like it would solve all your problems.”
You put your fork and knife down. “You are the most condescending whore I have come across, why did I agree to allow you to sit at my table again?”
“Stubborn one, aren’t you,” Seonghwa muttered under his breath. “Guess we’ll have to go the old fashion way.”
Seonghwa rose gracefully from his seat and sat on the bench exactly next to you. He studied your face as he used a few of his fingers to touch your hair. “Darling, I’m not here to convince you to bed me but if you’re feeling so inclined, who am I to say no to a senator of the Republic?”
You blink owlishly. Seonghwa can tell you are fighting his Jedi mind tricks. Perhaps that’s why you were such a good senator. So many were force sensitive without having enough potential or the proper disposition to be a Jedi.
You shook your head. “I am not inclined to bed a man who was clearly sent to my table with a purpose. You can finish the delicious food and then you can leave.”
Seonghwa’s lips pushed into the side of his cheek in thought. He shook his head to clear his vision of the fringe of his artfully styled hair. “Senator, I knew you weren’t going to be an easy mission but you truly are something else.”
You narrowed your eyes down at him but he simply put on a placating smile on his face and made that odd gesture from earlier. You felt the tension in your spine lesson and continued eating.
Seonghwa dabbed his lips with a linenfiber napkin. His eyes lazily travelled around the dining room that you had your back to. “Shall we retire to your rooms, Senator? You never know exactly who might be watching us.”
You raised an arched eyebrow at the man across from you. “Those same eyes would watch us retire to my rooms. Tongues will be waggling.”
“Would you rather they listen in on a conversation that I know you’d much rather not reach the ears of your enemies?” Seonghwa countered.
“You believe you understand who my enemies are and what I would not want them to overhear?” Seonghwa watched as the gears turned in your head. “Who are you, exactly?”
Seonghwa sat backwards with a simple shrug of his shoulders. “I simply work for the good of the Republic.”
“Now who’s acting like a politician,” You did the most to keep your features schooled.
The mysterious man stood up smoothly. “If you would be so kind as to lend me your ear, Senator, I would be beholden to you.”
You stood up but swished the skirts of your dress in a gesture as if you were looking to get rid of your dinner guest. “I think I’ll pay my compliments to the chef and be on my way this evening.”
“You would like to retire to your rooms with your arm around my waist,” Seonghwa murmured, gesturing with two fingers.
Your arm wound around his waist, a flirty smile pulling at your lips. “Shall we retire to my rooms for a more intimate conversation?”
Seonghwa acquiesced with a small nod. “Of course, Senator.”
Whispers and hushed conversation clung to you as you left the dining room and moved towards the Senator’s apartments that were on the higher levels of this particular complex. You felt like your body and mind was moving through thigh-high quicksand. Your mind didn’t usually struggle like this.
“I…” You shook your head like you were trying to clear cobwebs from them. “I’m not feeling particularly well,” You murmured.
Seonghwa pushed your head into the crook of his shoulder. “I’ll take care of you, don’t you worry, Senator.”
You peered up at the beautiful man. “Why?”
He sent you a serene smile. “Let’s say, it’s a part of the job.”
Between one second and the next, you were entering your apartment, the guards at the door barely protesting when you brought a stranger inside. Seonghwa seemed to know exactly where to go and deposited you on the bed.
You bounced with almost near-catatonic state. You moaned loudly when the man knelt at your feet and began to remove your heels. He laughed softly under his breath, nimble fingers plying your sore arches.
“I think you should take some time off, Senator,” He advised quietly.
“But I have so much to accomplish. I left my planet for a reason,” You protested.
Seonghwa released your feet and looked up at you with large, brown eyes. “You work so hard. Shouldn't you have some playtime too?”
“I will. After I…pass the…the what?” You groaned and dug the heel of your hand into your right eye. Your head pained you so.
Seonghwa clucked his tongue quietly. “See? You need a break.”
He stood up, if only to take the place beside you on the bed. “I think you should get wrapped up in someone. A quiet affair that only a few people are aware of. But it’s the most important people that get wind of it. You forget your mission and your bill fails to pass because of your distraction. You’ll be a disappointment, certainly, but it won’t ruin your career.”
“No,” You protested. “That can’t be. I’m certain the bill will pass tomorrow. There’s no need--”
You squeal as Seonghwa leaned forward and placed a kiss on your lips. It’s sensual and a little moist and it melts you to your core.
“Oh, there’s a need, Senator. It may be my mission to get you to fail to pass your bill but the truth is there. You need some of the stress fucked out of you.”
“Fucked out of me?” You repeated.
“Mmm,” Seonghwa hummed. “But the real question is, what position?”
Your mind reels in confusion and lust. Did you have too much to drink? Did you even drink? What was in the food you had ordered? Perhaps it had been a little too exotic. Being in your room with a stranger on the eve that something very important was about to happen didn’t feel right.
All those worries were lost when Seonghwa’s hard body pinned you to the bed. “Don’t bother getting lost in your mind, Senator. You won’t be able to find your way out, I’m afraid.”
You raised your hand and your fingers skimmed Seonghwa’s sharp jaw. “You’re too gorgeous to be simply a hired whore,” You breathed out.
Seonghwa laughed. “Are you proposing to me, Senator? I would make a very pretty trophy husband, I must admit. You wouldn’t have to worry about me saying the wrong thing either.”
“That sounds wonderful,” You sighed happily.
“Let’s get you out of this dress, first, before you decide to marry me,” Seonghwa insisted.
It was like your clothes parted for the man, falling from your body with a wave of his hand. His eyes moved over your under clothes. They weren’t seductive by no means but they seemed to pass his approval. “Understated but soft and flowing,” he said. “You’re by no means going to get someone’s blood pumping that way.”
You frowned. “You don’t like?” You had no idea why you needed him to enjoy what you were wearing under your dress but it seemed very important in this moment. In fact, your underclothing was so offensive that you immediately began to pull and push them off your body.
Seonghwa raised his eyebrows as your body was even further revealed to him. “Now that was unexpected. Perhaps you’re too influenced for my…Senator, what is that?”
You spread your legs obscenely. “Once upon a time, when I was a foolish teenager, I rebelled in ways that my parents would never find out. Is this much better to your liking?”
You had inner thigh tattoos, delicate climbing vines and flowers native to your planet. They directed the eye to the prize… which was your pierced hood of your clit.
Seonghwa’s tongue slowly licked the seam of his lips, unable to take his eyes away from the visual you were providing. “It's certainly very pretty.”
You beamed up at him with a happy smile. At last, you were pleasing him. “Does that get your blood pumping?”
Seonghwa was quick to discard his own robes, as much as they were a piece of his seduction technique, the time for that was over. You were slightly drunk on his force manipulation and he knew if he didn't take advantage of the situation it provided, you'd attempt to climb out of his mind maze once again.
“I might have done you out of pure challenge on a different day than this,” he muttered to himself.
He climbed onto the bed and wrapped his arms around your thighs. “You better hold onto something, Senator,” he mentioned casually, meeting your gaze briefly before bringing his tongue and lips to your cunt.
You gasped loudly and clamped your legs against Seonghwa’s head as he immediately tucked your piercing behind his teeth and pulled slightly. He then soothed the motion by licking your clit, playing with the ball that pressed ever so lightly against the most sensitive part of your body.
Seonghwa patiently pressed your thighs back down, spreading you once again. His fingers traced your tattoos. Once your hips started to move upwards to meet the licks of his tongue, he pushed a finger into your clenching hole. You groaned loudly but you weren't kept waiting as he pushed a second one in too.
Seonghwa had been right, you needed something to hold onto. Your hands dug desperately into the sheets below you, head falling back into a whirl of pleasure. He was good. Very good.
The fingers did not stop stroking your insides but Seonghwa raised his head. His lips were covered in your juices and your knuckles went white with how hard you were clenching your hands. “Are you going to come for me, Darling?”
You nodded your head. “First one--” You panted hard, breaking up your sentence. “--is always--!” Your back bowed as Seonghwa tapped against the spongey part inside of you.
“That's perfect!” Seonghwa said. “I need you ooey gooey right now.”
His tongue plied your clit again, playing with the ball of your piercing. Those two, slim fingers worked in and out of you, pushing you towards something that felt unfamiliar but good. “Wait--Wait!!”
Your bottom half lifted up as you came hard and felt some liquid drip down your thighs. You made so much noise, an errant thought for your guards overhearing briefly passed through your mind, before it was gone, coming down from an unbelievable climax.
When you came back down to earth, you blinked wearily and saw that Seonghwa looked like a loth-cat that had just had their cream. His face was drenched, pieces of hair clinging to his face, his chest dripping as well.
“Stars, that’s embarrassing,” You groaned.
Seonghwa shook his head. “Not at all. That little piercing of yours is certainly useful, you sly senator.”
“I--we should--” For once, you couldn't find the proper use of your tongue to explain your needs.
“Ah, a shower. Wonderful idea.” Seonghwa swooped your body up with an easy moment, travelling to where your luxurious bathroom was.
He made a motion with his head and the water poured generously from the rainhead. He simply walked right into the wash of hot water, letting it hit his chest, and by proxy you. The small, simple smile on his face pulled something at you. But the minute a frown marred the center of your forehead, Seonghwa set your feet down on the warm wood beneath and cupped your head for a steamy kiss.
“One orgasm’s not enough for you, Darling?” He murmured between smooches.
You made a noise of protest, hands palms down against his lean chest. “No, I--”
“Don’t worry. I plan on keeping you distracted until you cannot keep your eyes open any longer,” he teased.
You swallowed hard. “Will your stamina last that long?”
A twinkle gleaned in Seonghwa’s eyes. “You could say I've the training for it.”
Seonghwa ran a hand down your spine, following the curve of your ass and promptly hefted your leg around his waist.
“Do you know there are creatures called Ddeongbyeollies on a faraway planet that mate for life? Or rather, once the male mates with the female, only his key will undo her lock?” Seonghwa raised an eyebrow at you suggestively, that same faintly amused smile on his face.
It was somehow sexual and romantic at the same time. “We are not those creatures,” You said quietly.
“No, we are not,” Seonghwa agreed. His eyes travelled down your body to where his cock was at attention, pressed against your soft stomach. “Lucky for me, otherwise I'd be in a bind, certainly.”
“Seonghwa?” You murmured his name as he tilted his head for another kiss.
“Yes, Senator?”
“This isn't going to end well for me, is it?”
Seonghwa shook his head, pressing his lips to yours once again. “Your planet will be taken care of. Your bill simply does not work for the good of the Republic, unfortunately.”
“No, I mean after meeting you?” You whispered, chasing his lips for more kisses.
“Oh, you won't remember me, Darling,” Seonghwa said with a soft kiss. “That I'll make sure of. We can't have you being able to identify me later when I go on more missions to your planet.”
“That's awful,” You lamented.
That made Seonghwa pause. What he was doing was for the good of the Republic. To a normal person, being forgotten would be sad. For Seonghwa, it was just another mission.
“No, Darling, it's for your benefit. You'd be heartbroken without me. And my cock.”
With that, Seonghwa closed the distance between you two completely, pressing a condom to himself, and entering you at last. You both gasped in unison, you upon being split open, and he for the way you squeezed him so.
“Because you would be so enamored with the heights I can bring you to,” Seonghwa continued. With anyone else, it would be gloating. But with Seonghwa, he was just stating pure facts. “You would truly waste away, because no one would be able to fuck you like I would.”
You brushed some of his hair out of his eyes fondly. “Will you fuck me when you come back to my planet?”
Seonghwa grinned, slightly crooked. “Depends on the mission, Madame Senator.”
True to his word, Seonghwa fucked you in the shower, on your bed, against your ceiling-to-floor windows. He fucked you until you couldn't summon the energy to keep your eyes open.
The sun came up and he was slipping his robe back on. He watched the sun stroke your skin, your form half covered by expensive sheets. You were going to be fuming when you woke up and discovered that the senate had already met and your bill wasn’t even considered with you not present.
“You were a worthy adversary, Senator,” Seonghwa whispered into the morning air. “I look forward to our next meeting. Although I’m sure you’ll have gone through some mental training and I fully expect you to resist me even better.”
The Jedi Master walked out of the Senator’s rooms with his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face.
pairing﹢jung wooyoung x fem!reader x jeong yunho
genre﹢smut. porn with little plot, contains heavy dialogue, toy use, edging, overstimulation, orgasm control, mild sadism, usage of petnames (angel, baby, princess).
synopsis﹢nothing is ever just a game with wooyoung, and with yunho involved... they push all of your buttons.
word count﹢3,7k
“what do you mean you don’t know where it is?”
WOOYOUNG doesn’t even look at you at first. he’s standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of his shirt before ruffling his hair, letting a few strands of dark bangs fall into his eyes. he was so calm, didn't even care much about the remote to the toy in your panties was gone. you, on the other hand, are seconds away from losing it, pacing on the edge of your patience, your mind spiraling faster with every second he doesn’t react.
“i don’t know,” he says simply, reaching for his perfume, spritzing it once, then twice, the citrus scent quickly filling the room. he looks confident and so sure of himself, and somehow that makes it worse. because no matter how put together he is right now, he still can’t answer one simple question — where is it? maybe some poltergeist had hidden it somewhere. it will appear someday by chance, so don’t worry that pretty little head of yours.
“you’re unbelievable and so irresponsible,” you scoff at him, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms. he's never lost it before, not once. it's always in a pocket of his jacket or jeans, somewhere easy to reach. not something that just… disappears. what, did it fall into some kind of void? vanish into thin air?
“you’re the one who agreed to wear it.” finally glancing at you through the mirror, one brow slightly raised, as his gaze drags over you from head to toe. fitted black long-sleeve crop top, short flowy skirt, chunky boots, jewelry catching the light, every detail carefully put together, and all he thinks about is the accessory hidden underneath.
“that was under the assumption you wouldn’t lose the damn remote.” to him, you still looked pretty even when you were angry or irritated.
“i didn’t lose it,” he corrects, turning to face you, leaning back against the dresser like he has nothing to worry about. “i just don’t know where it is.”
you exhale, trying to ignore the way your pulse is already picking up just from the situation itself. this just couldn't be happening. if it were a condom, no problem, as if you didn’t prefer to do it raw. or whatever small thing like forgetting to buy eggs or chocolate. that's more forgivable than something like a remote control for the very expensive toy he bought to torture you with.
“woo, that’s basically the same thing.”
“not really.”
“there’s no point in me even wearing this if you can’t control it.”
“maybe it’s in my car.”
“maybe?”
“guess we’ll find out.” and just like that, he puts on his shoes and grabs the car keys, heading for the door, leaving you standing there, stomach twisting with the uneasy feeling that he’s not nearly as clueless as he’s pretending to be.
you and wooyoung aren’t dating. you don’t see anyone else, he doesn’t, either. it’s… whatever this is. something in between, exclusive, but unlabeled. days that blur into nights harder to walk away from. kisses that linger, hands that don’t know when to stop because with him, everything always leads somewhere, tension that never really fades.
he calls you angel when you’re trying to be a sweet devil. baby when you’re glaring at him, princess when you’re about to snap, and brat when you behave like one. you call him annoying, dickhead, little shit, sometimes baby slips out, when you’re not thinking too hard about it.
it’s inevitable. he likes control, thrives on it. pushes until you push back, just to see how far you’ll go before you give in. and you pretend you don’t enjoy it, but you love and appreciate him more than anything; he is your soulmate, perhaps, or at least that's what you like to tell yourself. people don’t ask questions anymore. to them, you’re just wooyoung’s girl, and whether that’s made official or not, you don’t correct them.
the thing is, it’s not just teasing and tension. he knows how to take care of you, too. soften after he’s been rough and give just as much as he takes. he keeps you on your tippy toes, yes, but he also knows exactly how to spoil you and make it feel like you’re the only one he’s paying attention to.
maybe that’s why you stay. and maybe that’s why, even after checking the car and coming up empty, you’re still standing there with him, wearing the damn thing like it wasn’t a mistake to begin with.
“baby, relax,” he says, closing the car door with a soft thud as he locks it, shrugs like it’s nothing. “it’s not the end of the world.”
you stare at him as you wait for him to get on your side so you can walk together to the building. he smirks, stepping closer, just enough to mess with your already delicate balance. you open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off.
“if you’re that desperate,” murmuring as he doesn’t look bothered. if anything, he looks more amused. “i can always take care of it myself.”
“how, exactly?” you ask, and his gaze stops at your face, taking in your beautiful features once again.
“my fingers,” he adds, like he’s listing options. “my mouth. whatever my princess needs.”
you swallow, trying to hold your ground, even as heat creeps up your neck, then he leans in just enough, voice brushing past your ear, “but don’t even think about asking for more. not with that attitude you had earlier.”
your breath catches for half a second before you recover, shoving lightly at his chest. you hate how his words settle somewhere under your skin, because as much as you want to think otherwise, you know he means it.
the place is quieter than you expected. you and wooyoung are the first to arrive early, for once. when you checked the time, you realized you’d be here almost twenty minutes ahead of everyone else. you’re usually right on time, or at least not the first through the door.
“hey, don’t think too much about it,” he murmurs as you stand in front of the door after ringing the bell, his hand settling at your lower back, warm against your bare skin. “just relax and try to have fun.”
right on cue, the door swings open, and there he is — the man of the hour.
“wooyoung, (name), didn’t expect you to come that early,” YUNHO says, greeting you both with that charming and welcoming smile.
“congratulations on the ten million, yu!” you say, handing him the small gift bag. “this is from me and woo, something small, but from the heart.”
“you shouldn’t have, your support was already enough,” he cuts in, taking it with a grin. “but thank you. now come in.”
he lets you both inside, already talking about the milestone and how unexpected it was. he figured it was worth celebrating with the people closest to him. ten million subscribers on youtube, a diamond button, and a whole career built off a screen, and somehow still the same yunho you’ve always known.
you settle onto the couch, nodding along as you listen. beside you, wooyoung drops down without a second thought, legs spreading to take up more space than necessary, his arm draping over your shoulders, a little territorial. yunho moves around in front of you, back turned as he fixes up drinks, adjusting things here and there. then he reaches for the remote on the table.
“let me just put something on while we wait for the others.”
you barely notice it at first, until you do. a faint vibration, subtle enough to miss if you weren’t already on edge. but then you feel it a little stronger now, your entire body goes still. next to you, wooyoung doesn’t move, but you catch the slight tension in him before he relaxes again. he knows something you don’t.
yunho keeps clicking absentmindedly, frowning at the tv. “why isn’t this turning on?”
your fingers curl into the hem of your skirt, trying your very best to stay calm and not to move so much, because the tv isn’t the thing he turned on.
the realization hits wooyoung first. his gaze flicks to the remote in his friend's hand, then back to you. so that’s where it went, huh? a few days ago, you were at yunho’s again, along with san and mingi. hanging out and trying a new game while the youtuber showed off his new tv, whose remote looked almost identical to the other one for the vibrator.
because if that remote is in yunho’s hand, then that means — yes, the tv remote is at wooyoung’s place, tucked away somewhere after he probably took it by mistake. and he had been wondering why the toy wasn’t working, thought the batteries had died or that it needed charging. clearly, he hadn’t bothered to check. he told you he lost it to avoid nagging from you about breaking expensive things again.
wooyoung leans back into the couch, the initial surprise fading as amusement settles in. his hand squeezes your shoulder gently, almost reassuring, if it weren’t for the situation. you’re trembling slightly at first, your lips press together tightly, but a soft moan slips out. your hand flies to your mouth too late, and that’s what makes yunho turn, glancing at you with concern.
“are you okay?” you’re not.
“y-yeah, i’m o-okay,” you manage to answer somehow, voice unsteady, but he’s already clicking the remote again, and it speeds up. your voice betrays you again, as wooyoung tilts his head, leaning in so only you can hear him. “sure about that, angel?”
you shoot him a look from the corner of your eye, but he only gives you that same cocky grin.
yunho presses another button. the sensation spikes stronger this time, your eyes squeezing shut as you try to hold it in. it hits deeper now, the vibrations hit your core, your thighs press together, and you can feel how wet you are getting already.
“yunho,” your so-called ‘boyfriend’ says in that playful tone of his you grew up to despise, “maybe try the other button.”
your eyes snap open instantly. yunho hums, doing exactly that. you clamp your hand over your mouth when a little louder moan than before slips into the quiet room. he looks over again, brows pulling together, lips parting slightly.
“are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again, slower this time, but you nod too quickly.
“y-yeah, i–” another press and your answer turns into a breathy gasp, “ahh–”
yunho’s gaze flickers between the two of you. he turns it off, watching as your body relaxes, your shoulders dropping, then turns it on again, and you immediately jolt, squirming against the couch. oh, is that... he is curious now as he keeps pushing button after a button, and every instinct in your body is telling you to move, to stop this, maybe get up and grab that forsaken remote from his hand, only for wooyoung to hold you in place.
“shh, keep it down,” he murmurs near your ear. “wouldn’t want to make it obvious.”
“you–” you whisper, barely getting the word out, he watches the flutter of your eyelids, the minor tremors in your thighs.
“should i stop?” yunho asks, and wooyoung answers before you can.
“hmm… i don’t think she wants you to.”
“i wan–” your hand flies back to your mouth once the vibrations hit you right at that spot.
“see? she’s not saying no.” wooyoung hums and your glare. why does he have to be so mean? give men a little power and watch them ruin beautiful things.
“tell me what you want,” the taller says, thumb hovering over the remote, attentive, but not stepping back. while the shorter is watching you struggle, enjoying every second. to be honest, he's always been a sadist, but when someone else is around, he just becomes absolutely insufferable. he never allowed anything like that, for someone else to interfere, not even permission is given to san.
“princess, if you don’t answer, he might just keep guessing.” and even through the tension and the overwhelming pressure building in your body, you still manage to be difficult.
“or,” you breathe out shakily, glaring up at your boyfriend, “you could both stop being annoying and figure it out yourselves.”
wooyoung blinks, then lets out a quiet laugh under his breath. “there she is, the brat in you has been hiding for so long now. i was wondering when it will come back.”
the first few minutes were a low setting here, a pulse there. you’d squirmed, biting your lip, trying to endure it and to show them that you, in fact, can handle it. then the vibration settled at a steady, mid-level grind. it’s enough to keep you perched on thin ice, pleasure coiling tight and hot in your belly but never releasing. you’re panting softly against your own palm, sweat dampening the back of your neck where wooyoung’s breath fans.
“look at her. she’s trying so hard to be quiet. she the prettiest angel, right yunho?”
yunho doesn’t answer immediately. he just turns the vibration off completely. the sudden absence creates crushing emptiness that feels worse than the stimulation. a whimper of pure loss breaks from your throat as your hips seek the pleasure that’s gone.
“oh, she doesn’t like that,” wooyoung coos, laughing softly. his hand slides down from your waist to splay possessively over your lower stomach, pressing down. “she wants it back, doesn’t she?”
“please,” you rasp, the word torn from you in a blissful whimper.
“please, what?” yunho becomes more precise and fully engaged, almost analytical. where did the sweet and kind golden boy disappear to? he stops asking, are you okay? and starts deciding what to do, probably influenced by the devil next to you. “use your words.”
“please… turn it back on.” you're so cute when you beg, that they just want to ruin you more.
“but you were getting too excited,” wooyoung chides, his fingers digging in slightly. “we can’t have you finishing without permission. that would be rude.”
yunho nods, as if considering this. he presses the button and it doesn’t return to the previous peaceful level. it comes back at the highest setting, followed by a violent, immediate buzz that feels less like pleasure and more like an electrical assault. you cry out, the sound strangled, your body seizing. it’s too much, an overwhelming flood that tips straight into overstimulation in a heartbeat when your vision whites out at the edges.
you’re screaming inside at the sensation, a relentless drilling into your pussy that offers no peace. your muscles are locked, shaking with the effort of containing it. you can feel the shameful slickness that has nothing to do with comfort and everything to do with helpless and brutalized arousal.
“so sensitive,” wooyoung bites your earlobe gently, holding you through, his embrace now less a restraint and more a comfort as you grip his forearm. “one little toy and you’re completely gone.”
yunho lets it run for what feels like an eternity. just when you think you might genuinely shatter into a million pieces under the onslaught, he drops it again. not to nothing, but back to that maddening and low speed. the drop is cruel as you sob. the makeup you spent so much time on is probably ruined, no matter how waterproof it is. slumping back against wooyoung, the low hum he lets feels like a taunt now, a reminder of what you can’t have.
“i think she’s learned her lesson,” he says, but his tone suggests the lesson is far from over. yunho walks over to the couch and crouches in front of you, the remote still in hand. he reaches out with his other hand, his fingers surprisingly gentle as they brush a tear from your cheek, you didn’t even know had fallen.
“you’re doing so well,” he says, his gaze holding yours, and you can’t even recognize him. “but you don’t get to come unless we say so, you understand?”
he doesn’t wait for an answer. he turns the remote over, shows you the tiny led light indicating it’s active, and the persistent, low-grade vibration continues. wooyoung kisses your cheek to keep you there with him, at least physically, as yunho rises, his shadow falling over you both.
you don’t know how long you have been denied an orgasm; you couldn't, there was no way, and you weren't allowed. those were their rules. it feels like you have been sitting on this couch forever without a second's rest. overwhelmed by the sensation coursing through your body, moaning softly, then whining as you trembled with need, turning to yunho with wide and pleading eyes, who is just observing you coldly like a predator.
“almost there, hm?” he whispers, his deep voice sending shivers and goosebumps on your half-naked body. considering the outfit you chose to wear, the cool air hits you like a tornado. the tension in the room thickens as you feel the pleasure and the denial, the toy pulsing against your every response to the pleas of your body. you are desperate, but the thrill of the chase is what they both seem to enjoy and bond over.
“too much? not enough? what is it, baby?” wooyoung mocks you with a playful question. you feel trapped between them, one holding you in place, the other controlling something you can’t. their voices overlap, layering over each other in a constant push and pull of teasing and coaxing, a taunting rhythm that makes it harder to think straight, let alone speak.
yunho, in all his life, never thought he’d enjoy something like this so much. you’re wooyoung’s — everyone wants you, but you only ever want one man. even so, a selfish thought slips in: he wishes he could take wooyoung’s place, be the one making you react like this and pushing your buttons, pulling you apart piece by piece.
lost in that thought, he doesn’t even realize how far he’s taken it, but the setting has shifted, turned it up to its limit. wooyoung’s sharp voice cuts through first, worried now, snapping him back. he blinks, startled, heart catching as he registers wooyoung’s tone over the sound of your broken breaths and desperate little sounds.
“yunho, turn it the fuck off, you psychopath.”
without hesitation, his thumb moves, dialing it down to something gentler.
wooyoung is already there, hand threading into your hair, slowly soothing you, fingers combing through as his other hand brushes your cheek, soft despite the smirk still playing on his lips, enjoying this just as much as he’s pretending not to.
“it’s okay, breathe.” you’re still shaking slightly, but wooyoung glances at yunho with narrowed eyes, ones that could easily stop whatever is happening. “see what you did?”
“i didn’t think it would go that far,” yunho exhales, running a hand through his hair, and your man just laughs under his breath.
“sure you didn’t.” then, softer when he turns to speak to you, fingers continue to soothe through your locks, “i’m sorry, angel. but you see… even he can’t resist making a mess out of you.”
despite the toy being set on a lower intensity, you still feel it building, wooyoung does too with the way your legs press tighter together and your back arches slightly. he lets you, easing his hand out of your hair before sliding it beneath your skirt again, pressing the toy a little firmer, shifting it all around to give you what you’ve earned. with his other hand, he signals yunho with two fingers, silent but clear: give me the remote back. enough is enough, he wants you back with him now.
“come on, baby. yeah… feels good now, no?” his voice softening into something almost sweet as your eyes fall shut. your breathing is uneven, but steadier now than it was minutes ago. yunho can only watch, while wooyoung handles you with care.
and then the sweet release crashes through you all at once. finally, after being denied for so long, your body trembles, a soft whimper escaping as overstimulation follows right after. you feel the slick warmth between your thighs and you don’t even care about making a mess on the couch. all you can think about is breathing again, your body going slack as you lean into wooyoung without thinking.
that’s when the doorbell rings, snapping all three of you back to reality. for a second, yunho just stands there, the remote still in his hand, and your uneven breathing still echoing in his ears. this is not new — at least, not for you and wooyoung. things like this, blurred lines between private and almost public, have existed long before yunho ever got pulled into it. the rest of the group has no idea, and they’re not meant to; it’s not anyone else’s business.
even if wooyoung carries that careless, sharing is caring kind of attitude, it only goes so far. perfumes and scents, those things he’ll scoff at, roll his eyes over, let slide without much thought. you, though? you’re not something he shares lightly. and yunho can understand it now, because he just stepped into territory that was never his to begin with.
“take her to the bathroom,” he says, clearing his throat as he hands the remote back by turning it off, nodding toward the hallway. “i’ll handle it.”
wooyoung nods once, already shifting his focus entirely to you, guiding you up with a hand at your waist as yunho heads toward the door. and just like that, the scene resets. the rest of the guys arrive, the apartment is filled with laughs and loud music, everything looks normal again. but at some point, someone notices the couch.
“uh… why is there a stain?”
wooyoung doesn’t even hesitate to answer, you in his lap. “sorry, i spilled some juice. don’t worry, it’ll dry.” yeah, juice… your juice.
the party starts all drinking and having fun to celebrate their friend. however, yunho isn’t thinking about the guests or about his achievement in the virtual and social world… he thinks of how much he can achieve by making you cum on his cock instead of the cushions earlier without the usage of some stupid toy. of course, only if wooyoung lets him… tho doubts he would mind, you are not officially together after all.
so, hello this is my shortest smut fic yet, and i just wanted to experiment with the formatting and the storytelling ! please, keep in mind that this was my first time writing anything focused on the usage of toys and i know it may be bad and not perfect, since i'm not familiar with this type of nsfw content, but i hope you enjoyed <33
synopsis: the captain of the ship cannot stand sharing.
note: another reupload from last year :p
warnings: MDNI, 2.4k words, pirate AU, porn with a little plot, penetrative sex, afab fem reader, unprotected, rough, edging, pussy slaps, very light choking and crying, biting, slight exhibitionism (?), cursing and dirty talk, hongjoong is whipped but mean, mingi and seonghwa cameos, “baby” / “joong” / “captain” used as pet names. not proofread.
the sea is ruthless.
dark clouds overhead signal rain, but it doesn’t come yet. nature works at its own pace.
tall waves crash against the side of the fairly big pirate ship, some of the water making it onto the deck. half of the crew groans in frustration, the other half childishly splash the water with their boots.
another morning has gone by and you haven’t seen your captain. nights ago, he made it clear he wasn’t to be bothered by anyone, and everyone took his word for it. for as kind as hongjoong was, he was also not to be tested. for three long days, he has skipped meals and forwarded all concerns to the second in command, the quartermaster seonghwa.
everyone seems restless without him bossing them around. the course of the ship was set, and the crew had enough supplies to get to the next dock. it was now just a waiting game, if luck was on your side. the marines were always a worry in the back of your mind. after all, your bounties had nearly quadrupled from the last posters to the current ones.
it only takes half an hour to get through the area of unforgiving waves to calm waters. the sky is still gloomy but no seawater makes it onto the deck, no man is knocked over by the force of the wind.
you’re idling on the deck, leaning over the railing to look down at the water. it isn’t the clear kind you can see through to greet the sealife. but it’s stunning, nonetheless, in all its mystery.
“hey,” you hear from beside you, a heavy arm draping onto your shoulders. “you’re antsy. you keep pulling at your shirt.”
mingi’s eyes greet you as your turn, but you make no move to shy away from his touch. if anything, you lean into it. “there’s nothing else to do.”
a hum rumbles in his chest, you feel it on the side of your head, “yeah. it’s quiet up here. i feel like everyone’s nervous. i don’t think most of the crew has ever gone through one of captain’s moods.”
you glance at the crew behind you. new, friendly faces. some of them you still mixed up with each other. “it’s been a while since he locked himself up like that. seonghwa won’t say what it’s about.”
mingi shrugs, “same old. a new map he got his hands on. some intel that might change our course. maybe—”
“—mingi, have some respect,” a command sounds from a few feet away, the usual sweetness of seonghwa’s voice sharpened around the edges.
the man straightens up immediately, pulling his arm back to his side before taking a slow step back and away from you. the heavy thuds of his boots on the floor drown out the small inhale he takes.
you take a step back as well, turning around fully to see everyone standing up with their shoulders squared, breaths bated.
hongjoong is already looking at you.
the crew doesn’t know where to set their eyes. some glance between their captain and you. others look straight down, unwilling to be caught staring by either.
your spine prickles with heat as the stare stretches on for a long moment, and you feel your breath shallowing in anticipation.
hongjoong’s eyes move from yours to scan over mingi as he speaks, “a word, please.”
mingi takes a careful step forward, but hongjoong’s eyes narrow, making the former stop dead in his tracks.
“not you. i’m talking to my gunner.”
the steel at your hip feels weirdly heavy as he speaks. he never referred to you by your role like that. you step forward regardless, almost expecting him to change his mind. but he doesn’t, allowing you to walk past him before following you down.
as soon as the door to his room closes behind him, he’s speaking.
“what the fuck was that?”
you turn on your heel to face him, voice hushed to encourage him to lower his tone, “what was what?”
an amused scoff pushes through his lips, “i went up to announce— fuck, it doesn’t even matter. i stay in for a few days and you start letting the crew touch you like that?”
“it was a side hug—”
“don’t—” he takes a step forward, searching your features, “your head was resting against his shoulder.”
“i didn’t realize it would bother you so much,” you shrug, looking off to the side.
he looks at you like you’ve just revealed yourself as a marine. “would you have let him, had i been there?”
“no.”
“then you knew it would bother me.”
you open your mouth to counter, but you’re left with nothing to say. hongjoong takes that as an opportunity to crowd you against a wall, pressing his lips to yours without any room for hesitation.
the kiss is deep and desperate, days worth of passion poured into it as he unbuttons your shirt with little precision. he pulls back, opting to nip at your jaw and neck as his fingers work to get your clothes off you in record time.
he steps back, takes his own shirt off and throws it next to yours on the floor. he grabs a quilt from his cot and throws it on the floor behind himself before pulling you down with him.
he leaves a searing kiss on your lips before impatiently turning you onto your back, tossing your belt and steel weapon to the side, and tugging your pants off of you, “how long have you been waiting?”
“what do you mean?”
his eyes flicker up to yours, and you almost shy away from the intensity, “your panties are soaked. i can fucking smell you.”
your nails dig into your palms, trying to push yourself to answer, “days. but i didn’t wanna bother you.”
“you could’ve asked me, instead of batting your eyelashes at mingi. you think he knows what to do with you?”
you avoid the second question, wincing as he pushes your legs apart almost painfully, “you said you wanted to be left alone.”
“when do any of my rules apply to you?” he asks, breath fanning across the inside of your thighs. he sits up on his knees, looking down at you, “did you think i’d say no? call you a whore?”
the air in your lungs feels thick as you watch him attentively, nearly forgetting he was expecting an answer before shaking your head.
“words,” he says firmly, three fingers coming down with a smack, right against your clit.
“no,” you gasp out, brows pinching at the feeling, “no, but i deserve it.”
a small smile pulls at his lips as he watches the wet patch on your panties darken, “you don’t get to decide that. i do.”
he bends at the waist, tongue sticking out to lick a firm stripe over your underwear. his bottom row of teeth grazes your clit ever so slightly and you moan unashamedly at the feeling.
“that’s it,” his fingers hook around the middle of your underwear before pulling it to the side, “you gonna let me in?”
you nearly answer him with an enthusiastic nod, but the stinging feeling between your legs reminds you of his expectations. “yes.”
hongjoong’s spit-covered lips spread over his straight teeth, a satisfied hum settling in the air before he’s freeing himself, pants tugged halfway down his thighs. “there’s my girl.”
you lie back, head settled over the quilt as you wait, mouth watering at the sight before you. he doesn’t leave you hanging for long, his length dragging against you slowly before he guides himself into you.
you cover your mouth to no avail, the sudden sensation of him fully sheathed too much to bear. the floor creaks under your bodies as he begins thrusting into you, the soft fabric haphazardly thrown beneath you wrinkling with all the movement. but hongjoong is laser focused, pressing one of your legs back against your chest and raising the other over his shoulder.
he rewards you with a kiss against your calf when you hold your own legs near your chest, one of his free hands now messily rubbing against your clit while the other holds your jaw to keep your eyes on him.
"slow down—" you protest half-heartedly, but the man between your legs doesn't abide by your request, a droplet of sweat dripping down his sharp jaw and landing on your stomach.
his eyes follow its trail down your navel hungrily, his calloused hand releases your jaw to press on your lower abdomen, "feel me right here, baby? hm? talk to me, fuck, wanna hear you.”
"yeah," you repeat desperately, legs threatening to kick with the new sensation, "cap'n, i'm gonna cum too quick.”
the name makes his head fuzzy and he moans, putting all his focus into slowing down his thrusts, "uh-uh, not yet."
he rips his hand away from your clit and watches with a lopsided grin as your eyes snap open and land on him. you gulp down a complaint, knowing better than to talk back now, "but, i just... wanted your attention."
he leans down, silky hair grazing your skin with the new angle. he nudges his nose against your jawline, nipping softly at the skin there, "i know. this is a reminder."
you arch into him, your chest bumping against his. "joong, i didn't mean to..." you're cut off by a moan when he snakes a hand down to continue playing with your clit, his thick rings grazing your skin deliciously, "i didn't mean to, i promise."
"no?" he asks, unconvinced by your words, "didn't mean to? that's funny."
his streak of jealousy bleeds through his questioning and you give into it, "cause you were ignoring me."
you feel the sting of another slap against your cunt and your body shudders at the conflicting pain, eyes rolling back at the warm feeling.
"so your solution is to brush up against another crew member?" he quips almost amusedly, enjoying the build up of your noises before pulling his hand away from your arousal and tapping his fingers on your bottom lip.
you open up automatically, answering with a muffled groan around his digits. he looks at you, lovestruck but unwilling to relent, "should've used your words and told me you were feeling neglected. i would've made time for you, baby. i always do.”
you wrap your tongue around his middle and ring fingers, sucking them into your mouth as if your life depended on it.
when he finally catches the tears welling up in your eyes, he feels himself twitch, a barely audible moan tumbling from his glistening lips, "fuck, are you gonna cry?"
the humiliation makes even more tears prick at your eyes, and he removes his hand from your mouth to wrap around your throat and pull you in for a sloppy kiss. the exchange is all spit and teeth, his tongue exploring your mouth as if he doesn't know how to do anything but that. you move your hips against his and he allows you to, biting down softly on your bottom lip as a warning.
he's dazed when you pull apart, his eyebrows knitting together as he watches hot tears spill down your cheeks. he's licks them up faster than you can even register what he's doing, the saltiness of the fluid making his eyes screw shut. "are you sorry?" he whispers against the shell of your ear, and you think you hear a whine mixing into his tone.
"it won't happen again," you assure him, your arms wrapping around his neck and heels pushing against his backside to push him into you, "j— captain, please. they’ve probably all heard us by now, they know who i belong to, please."
hot sparks of desire thrum in his chest as call yourself his, and he presses softly against the sides of your neck, "yeah? is that what you wanted? other people to hear this?"
in your fogged mind, you barely capture his words, nodding enthusiastically to anything he says, "please, i just want you."
he pulls you even closer, roughly tugging your legs to press himself into you at a new angle. he hears the commotion on the deck above and can't bring himself to care in the slightest when you breathlessly moan his name.
"i want you too. love having you like this," he rambles as he builds up his thrusts again, "so fuckin' wet for me. you're dripping all over yourself.”
you throw your head back as his pelvis brushes against your clit with every pointed thrust. he continues, "where do you want me, baby?"
"inside," you plead, fighting against the urge to close your legs at the overpowering force of your impending climax, "i need it."
a strained whine rips spills from his throat in response, not questioning your answer as he begins to draw tight circles around your pulsing clit.
your grip on his forearms tightens as stars rise in your vision, finishing with a silent plea of his name. watching you tips him over the edge, his gaze focusing on your face as he follows your instruction to finish inside you.
you both reach your highs with heaving chests and restless hips, meeting each other's desperate thrusts halfway. when you start complaining, he pulls out, dropping his forehead on your stomach to regain his strength.
a few moments pass before you hear a hesitant knock on the door and a deep voice, "uh, sir, seonghwa says you’re needed in the comms room."
you immediately recognize the voice as mingi’s, and your dazed smile drops. hongjoong looks up at you with an amused grin at the coincidence, his voice hushed against your skin, "you gonna answer or not?"
you gulp down your embarrassment, trying to ignore the open-mouthed kisses your captain is leaving just under your belly button, "he'll be right out, mingi, thank... you."
"no rush. yeah, we can, uh, we can wait. yeah,” you hear from the other side of the door, the baritone of your friend's voice wavering slightly.
you feel a slight nibble just over the bone of your hip, a satisfied smile on hongjoong's face as he straightens up. he watches you clench around nothing, his eyes following the mix of your arousal traveling down your bottom, “you heard him. let’s keep him waiting just a little longer.”
bestfriend! mingi who lays his head on your boobs as you go to sleep
bestfriend! mingi who warms his hands between your thighs.
bestfriend! mingi who gets hard mid-piss when he’d let you hold it as he pees.
bestfriend! mingi who you occasionally dry hump when watching a steamy scene on tv
bestfriend! mingi who slowly rubs his long fingers between your folds after you come home from a date that didn’t go so well.
bestfriend! mingi who whispers sweet things in your ear as you get closer and closer to a high that only he can give you.
bestfriend! mingi who tells you that nobody else can make you break like he can, because nobody else knows you like he knows you.
bestfriend! mingi who watches you leave to go on another date with yet another guy who isn’t good enough. another guy who will leave your heart broken.
sadness, anger, happiness, that boy sure knows how to make your senses tingle, and it’s been that way since you were introduced as the final member of ateez. the only girl of ateez. you sure do have a favorite, don’t you?
idol!wooyoung x idol!fem!reader, 9th member reader, members/best friends to potential lovers?, 18+, unprotected p in v, oral f receiving, semi public sex? (they’re in a dressing room), mr. and mrs. giggleshits, set during work era —> adrenaline era, a little awk, dirty talk, breeding kink ?, pet names (baby, slut, good girl, etc.), cheating, breakup, slight comfort, reader is dating jaehyun (nct), smut with plot, fluff, mmm i think that’s about it
── wc. 8.5k
── omg this is my first ever post on here and it turned out to be waaaay longer than i had intended, honestly. i’ve had this idea in my head for a while and knew nobody else was gonna do it so i had to take matters into my own hands. i’d like to mention that this is NOT proofread. if you see any typos pls lmk !! i really hope u enjoy it, byeeeee >ᴗ<
inhale.
exhale.
everything is fine, you’re okay. it’s not like you’re about to walk into a room full of people you’ve never met before or anything. oh! and even better, you’ll be with them for the rest of your life. how perfect. it’s not a huge change, i mean, you’ve been working for this since you were what, sixteen? or was it fifteen? hell, who knows? all you know is you’re an eighteen year old girl ready to change her life forever.
“come in!” that pulls you out of it. the rough voice coming from the other side of the frosted glass door has just enough power to make your hand rest on the handle.
you want this. you need this.
one more inhale, another exhale. you push the door open and immediate chaos floods all five of your senses.
boys. eight boys are seen on the couch in the corner of the room, some goofing off with one another and some staying to themselves.
loud, it’s so loud in here, why? oh, that might be due to the four boys practically screaming over each other as they argue about whatever the fuck the current topic is.
cologne. it reeks of testosterone in here. woody, fresh, warm, musky. wait, it kind of smells really good. not important.
oh god, here comes the cotton mouth. your mouth tastes bitter and your whole body has run cold, or hot. are you sweating? fuck if you know. you reach up to touch your forehead. no, yeah, definitely sweating. why are you so cold? oh no, no, no.
consider your world completely and utterly fucking. rocked.
boys? why would i ever want to be surrounded by boys all day, every day?
i thought i would be with a group of girls.
they didn’t specify this in the papers.
god, please save me, tell me this is a dream. i can’t live a life like this. i’m gonna pass out. there is entirely too much going on in this room. is the room spinning?
you exhausted all of the possibilities in your head long before opening the door. but this? this was not one of them.
one of the eight boys looks up at you. he has sharp features. asymmetrical eyes, you clock that almost immediately as they pierce through you. he’s clad in a red bape and ape hoodie and black adidas sweatpants. brown hair, tanned skin, big, perfect nose. he nods towards you and goes right back to his phone. the smirk on his face certainly not going unnoticed by you.
you know what? okay, yeah.
“wooyoung, please, not right now,” you breathe out. you guys have just wrapped up practice for your latest comeback; work. and boy, oh boy, are you fucking working.
“pleaseeeee,” he begs, “it’ll only take a minute.”
“okay, then you can wait for just a minute,” you pant. keep in mind, currently laying on the floor here. dropped dead. limbs numb. sweating from your scalp to your little piggies. what does wooyoung want? glad you asked! tiktok. he wants to make a fucking tiktok fresh after practice. “how do you have the energy to even want to make a tiktok right now, dude?”
“um, because the choreo isn’t as draining as you’re making it seem? and even then, you’ve been stumbling over your feet all day,” he sits next to you on the floor, holding himself up with his arms as he cocks his head at you. at this point, the rest of the boys have exited the room for water, food, or their beds.
you chew on the inside of your cheek as you figure out what to say. honestly? you haven’t eaten in two days, certain parts of the choreo aren’t sticking with you like they usually would, you’re distracted, dissociated, not all there with the rest of the world. your boyfriend is currently on tour, and you’ve had this gut wrenching feeling eating away at you ever since he left. i love you baby, you know that, right? he had said. weird, but also, not weird? you say you love each other every time you’re going to be separated for a while, so why did it feel different this time?
“hello?” wooyoungs fingers snap in front of your face, “are you still with me, darling?” you blink.
“did you just snap at me?”
“well, yes.”
a moment of silence.
you spring forward and drag him onto the floor with you, punching his sides, “do. you. want. to. die?” you grunt between punches as he laughs, pleading with you. after a moment you both sit up, “i’m fine, wooyoung, don’t worry. i do have to go to my dorm though, so, have fun!” you squeak as you jump up onto your feet, almost losing your balance.
wooyoungs face scrunches up, “what are you in such a rush for? gotta call your boytoy?”
“he’s my boyfriend, not boytoy. get it right. but since you’re so curious, no, actually, i’m just ready to strip naked and wash my ass.”
“yeah whatever, didn’t need to know all that,” it’s silent as he watches you pack up your belongings from the floor. his feet wiggle in place, fighting the urge to help you pack up. he can hear it now, i am an independent woman, why the fuck would i need you to do that for me? he chuckles to himself before noticing a bruise on the back of your arm, immediately perking up, “what happened there?”
“huh?” you turn to look at him, then to the back of your arm where he was gesturing, “oh, mingi happened. i slammed into him earlier, remember? turns out he’s made of stone instead of skin and bones.”
“ah, right. make sure you take care of that.”
your eyebrows furrow as you chuckle and turn to face him again, “it’s a bruise wooyoung, not a stab wound. it’ll take care of itself.”
“still, don’t put pressure on it when you sleep tonight,” he states as he finally gets up and makes his way towards the door with you, “it could make it worse, or something.” he shrugs.
“sir yes sir, dr. jung,” you salute as you turn to walk your separate ways. wooyoung slings his already-packed-bag over his shoulder and watches you turn the corridor. with a sigh, he turns and makes his way over to his dorm.
perk number one of being the only girl in ateez: you get your own dorm. it gives you a break from boys in your fully furnished, cozy, warm, space. now, yunho and yeosangs dorm? a literal cardboard box. you couldn’t be paid enough to live in that.
you let out a sigh upon entering your dorm, sliding off your shoes and into your slippers. dropping your bag and keys off at the door, you beeline to your room and rip your drawers open.
underwear, shirt, what else, what else… oh!
you throw the clothes on your king sized bed, moving towards your vanity where you keep your self care. you snatch your favorite scents off the shelves and toss them on the bed with your clothes. it’s go time, baby.
the bathroom is humid and smells like the gingerbread man drowned in the tub, just how you like it. bubbles are engulfing your body, music is playing on the speaker beside you, you’ve got your wine glass in your hand, vanilla candle lit. what else could you possibly need?
…
why did your music stop..?
ring ring ring
your eyes snap open. you have got to be kidding me.
the growl that escapes your throat is beastly, leaning over the wall of the bathtub to grab your phone.
incoming call: my baby <3
the smile that appears on your face is bright enough to light millions of galaxies. of course, you answer with much enthusiasm. “hi baby! i miss you so much. how’s tour?”
“i miss you too, what’re you doing?” okay fuck me and my question then. from the looks of it, he’s laying in his hotel bed. all you can see is the top of his head though, strange?
“i’m taking a nice relaxing bath, soaking in the peace while i have some. today’s practice was so tiring.”
“mm,” he groans out. it’s silent for a beat before he speaks again, “fuck- i miss you, baby,” he sounds breathless.
um. “i miss you too… are you feeling okay?” your eyebrows furrow with concern. his camera moved down a bit more, you can see his whole face now. his eyes are closed, his bottom lip squeezed between his teeth, eyebrows pinched together. it seems he has no shirt on also, which is pretty normal for him.
“y-yeah, i’m just tired,” his eyes open to look at you now, droopy.
“oh- well, i’ll let you go then. get some rest, okay?”
“alright. b-bye,” he stutters. right before he hangs up the phone, yes, he hangs up, you hear a moan. well, no not a moan. a groan? squeak? whatever the fuck it was, it didn’t come from him. it was high pitched, feminine.
the fuck?
your thumbs move faster than your brain.
you: what the fuck was that?
12:28am
you: hello?
12:46am
you: jaehyun r u srs
you: did u fall asleep
1:13am
you: annyeonghaseyo what the fuck ????
now here you are, laying in your bed. restless, stressed, sad. you have pretty damn good ears, there’s no chance that they could be deceiving you right now. it’s been almost two hours since he hung up and you bolted out of the bathroom. you don’t understand, everything was fine before he left. what could’ve happened within the span of a few days?
you didn’t get a wink of sleep. maybe an hour — no, that’s a reach. you slept for thirty minutes before your alarm clock began screaming at you to wake up. ten seconds later, here comes the banging on the door.
“what, literally what?” you yelled as you stomped towards the door, swinging it open harshly.
“oh- good morning to you, too,” wooyoung waves before pushing past you and into your living room. “you look like shit, by the way.”
you’re surprised your eyes didn’t get stuck in the back of your head with the force you rolled them with. “we don’t have practice for another three hours wooyoung, why are you here?”
“i’m here to chill and eat your snacks beforehand, duh. call it practice pregame,” he says matter-of-factly.
“the whole point of me having my own dorm was so that none of you could be in here with me. get out,” you deadpanned as you made your way to the kitchen for a glass of water.
“well that’s kind of hard to avoid, i’m only a building away. plus, san, mingi, and seonghwa literally live a door down.”
“yeah, a door down, not in my guest bedroom.”
wooyoung scoffs and turns his body away from the tv, really watching you now, “what’s up with you today? you’re awfully snappy”
you place your glass on the island counter and stare at him for second. he’s serious, isn’t he? “gee, i don’t know, maybe because i only got thirty minutes of sleep before i was woken up by a psychotic alarm clock at seven in the fucking morning! then an even more psychotic man—who is currently sitting on my couch, barged into my home, chose to bother me on a morning that wouldn’t have been any better anyways but at least i wouldn’t have to worry about being disturbed by you—” you ramble, your hands flailing all over the place as you go on and on.
wooyoung? he listens. he could tell something has been bothering you these past few days, he knows it’s best for you to let it all out now than later. in the midst of your breakdown he rises from the couch and moves to sit across from where you stand instead.
“i tried to have a relaxing night last night before my fucking boyfriend called me—”
“i thought you were excited to talk to him?”
“oh, just you fucking wait. so, he ended up calling me while i was in the bath. when i answered he sounded very… tired? i guess, i have no idea anymore. i’m so fucking confused,” you hold your head in your hands as you recall what happened last night, “he fucking called me, okay? i knew something was off when i answered and the only thing i could see was his stupid fucking forehead for the first two minutes.”
“two minutes? but th—”
“it was a short conversation,” you cut wooyoung off, holding your hand up, “i tried to talk to him about my day, you know, normal couple things. told him about practice, all that good shit. what’d he say? mm. fucking mm?!” you exclaimed, “and it didn’t even sound like an mm of acknowledgement, it sounded horny as fuck! he was all like—mm fuck, baby i miss you, like, get out of my face.”
wooyoung rolled his eyes, not at you—never at you, but at what he was hearing. he was simply distraught at the fact that anyone could be so vague and passive with you, one of the most charismatic people he knows. although he can’t blame him if he was in fact horny.
“that’s not even it, wooyoung. he starts… moaning? groaning? i don’t know, he sounded out of breath and like he was trying to hold stuff in. eventually, the camera moved down. i don’t think he meant for it to though. he was biting his lip and shit, it looked freaky as hell, and trust me, i know his sex faces.”
wooyoung grimaces at the thought of you doing the deed with someone, “alright maybe i didn’t need to know that.” retract previous statement. he can blame him.
“no you definitely did, it’s crucial to the plot. anyways, i asked him if he felt okay, to which he replied y-yeah, i’m just tired,” you mocked him in your ‘man voice’, “i told him to just get some rest—now keep in mind, he called me, okay? right before he hung up i heard a weird noise. i don’t wanna say it was a woman, but it sounded very feminine.”
“what the fuck?”
“yeah, what the fuck. i texted him for an hour straight last night, still no response to this very moment,” you sigh, now looking down at your glass of water. “i don’t want to accuse him of cheating but like,” you look back up at wooyoung, “ive had this gut feeling something bad was happening behind my back ever since he left for tour. that’s why ive been acting strange, and i know i shouldn’t have held it in but i just-” you sigh.
wooyoung is absolutely fuming, even if he didn’t show it. he is a man after all, he understands exactly what is going on—granted he’d never participate in such devious activities if he had a parter, especially not if he had someone like you. he walked around the counter and engulfed you in his arms. your body began to tremble, finally releasing all the pent up emotions you’ve been holding on to.
“i’m sorry i was mean,” your muffled voice fills his ears.
“it’s okay honey, i’d be mean too if i were you,” he pulled back to look at your face. your had tears streaming down your cheeks as you looked up at him. it tore him into pieces to see you like this. his hands reached up to wipe your face, “go get cleaned up, we’re going out.”
you frown, “out where?”
“out,” he shoves you towards your room, “go.”
“ooh look at this,” san chirps as he poses with the girliest purse you’ve ever seen. wooyoung decided to gather almost everyone to go out and shop together after your breakdown? rant? rant. you don’t have breakdowns over men. either way, it’s definitely cheering you up.
“wait, what about this one?” mingi walks up behind you with a more sleek purse. oh, here comes seonghwa strutting down with wooyoung hand-in-hand, holding matching coach bags. you can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous they look.
“so if i say i love them all you guys will buy them for me?” you lift your eyebrow with a smirk on your face.
“yes,” they say in unison.
chuckling and shaking your head, “guys you don’t have to do this, i’m seriously fine with just walking around. you don’t have to shove all these things in my face and beg to buy them for me,” wooyoung looks at you with a knowing look, cocking his head to the side. he can always tell when you’re bluffing, “okay fine, sugar baby me.”
and sugar baby you they sure fucking did. the boys walk in tandem with you back to your dorm, all of their arms covered with bags of things they bought you. you know when that one kid in school walked down the hallway and you just knew they were coming because of their keychains? yeah, that’s basically them but with shopping bags right now.
“fuck, why did you let me do this,” seonghwa pants as you guys exit the elevator.
“you wouldn’t leave me alone, don’t complain now,” you shrug as you unlock your door and let them in. the bags are immediately dropped to the floor, grunts and groans of relief coming from the men. “you guys are dramatic. hey—don’t break my shit!”
“anything you say, girly. now let’s go, we have to be at practice in thirty minutes. hongjoong will kill us if we’re late… again.” san says.
you giggle as they walk ahead of you and out of your dorm. as you’re locking your door you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket, frowning, you pull it out.
oh.
jaehyun.
you begrudgingly put the phone to your ear, “yes, jaehyun?” wooyoung turns to look at you at the mention of his name, a concerned look on his face. you shake your head at him and motion for him to go ahead, which he reluctantly obeys.
“hey baby, how are you?”
“uh, i’m good. could be better, actually. what’s up?” you begin walking a few feet behind the boys, closer to wooyoung than the rest of them. of course, he purposefully walked slower than the rest to pick up on your conversation. call him nosy, shame him for eavesdropping, he couldn’t care less.
“oh, um- i was just wondering. what happened last night?”
your heart stopped for a moment. he’s serious?
“what do you mean?”
“well i saw i had called you last night but i don’t remember it at all, haha,” haha. “i drank with the guys so i was pretty drunk.”
“oh, i see… were you too drunk to answer my texts as well or was that because you were busy doing something else—or should i say—someone else?” your irritation is evident in your voice at this point. the other side of the line does quiet for a beat too long, so you take the initiative, “you know what, jaehyun? until you manage to use all the brain power you have left to tell me exactly what you were doing last night; don’t message me, don’t call me, don’t even think of me. got it?”
“wait- baby, i-”
beep beep beep.
shut up.
you rolled your eyes and tucked your phone back into your pocket. the peace was nice for the two hours it lasted.
“get out. my. face.” sans voice booms through the practice room as he calls out the phrases that helps you all remember the choreo. today is the last day of practice, which is very stressful for you this time around. usuallly you’d have every movement nailed down by now, but you’re falling behind.
you keep fucking bumping into mingi during the stupid ass line formation you have to do. you’re sweating, your clothes are sticking to your body, hair falling out of your ponytail, bruises beginning to form from your countless failures.
“take 5 guys,” hongjoong calls out as he exits the room.
“are you doing okay?” jongho crouched down beside where you’re sprawled out on the floor.
“oh my fucking lord, yes, i’m fucking peachy. i am perfectly fine. why is everyone asking me this? actually, no, you know what, jongho? no, i’m not fucking okay because i’m pretty sure my boyfriend is cheating on me with some random bitch while i’m here stuck in this muggy practice room and failing at everything i do. is that a better answer for you guys? i’m not okay,” is what you wish you could scream out at the top of your lungs. unfortunately, what you say is, “i’m okay jjong, thank you,” don’t forget to top it off with a smile and nod!
thankfully, he drops it, deciding to not push you further. unlike someone, what’s his name?
“yeah right, what’d that asshole have to say to you earlier?” wooyoung plops himself on the ground on your other side. oh right, wooyoung.
“wouldn’t you like to know.”
“yeah i would, that’s kind of why i asked,” he shoves your shoulder, “come on, tell me. i promise i wont hunt him down, even though i should,” he murmurs the last part.
“what was that?” he shakes his head and motions for you to speak, sigh. “he basically just told me he didn’t remember anything from last night.”
“mm, and what’d you say?”
“you know what i said wooyoung, i know you were listening.”
“well tell me again, it was kind of hot,” he smirks, that makes you roll your eyes as you laugh.
hongjoong comes back and everything is set in motion once again, you swear that five minute break felt more like five seconds. after two more hours the work day has ended, you’re back in your bed, and suddenly it’s almost a month later. you pulled countless all-nighters practicing the choreography by yourself, pushing your body to its limit. jaehyun? not a word from him, and that’s perfectly fine with you. the music video released a few days ago, and now it’s s performance day. you have bigger things to worry about.
to say you’re nervous is an understatement. the anxiety of repeating the same mistakes you had worked so hard to fix comes creeping up your neck, sending shivers down your spine. or was it the hand that’s now laying against your lower back that did that?
“you ready, popstar?” wooyoung whispers into your ear from behind. you can’t see him, but you can feel him. hear him, smell him. it’s overwhelming to say the least, but also provides you a sense of comfort. you turn your head to the side and smile at him with a nod.
you all get into position in the stage, waiting patiently for the music to start, fans are cheering. what’s going in your head, you wonder?
anytime now…
oh! that scared me, oh my it’s really loud.
these lights are blinding me…
don’t mess up, don’t fuck it up. wait—yes, fuck it up. fuck it up so good, girl.
get out. my. face.
please don’t bump into him, please don’t bump into him.
oh thank fuck. thank you, lord.
okay jongho sing itttt.
voice please don’t crack, it’s my turn.
gotta make that money make—
it’s nothing but heavy breathing and stripping of clothing once you get backstage. you had been itching to get this heavy ass jacket off your frame for over an hour now, the relief of shredding it from your body an overwhelming sensation.
“you did so good, im so proud of you.” wooyoung jogs towards you and squeezes you so tight you can barely breathe.
“thank you, youngie, but i’m really sweaty and i kinda can’t breathe… move. please.” he pulls away with a breathless smile.
“you ready to do it all over again in two days?” he winks at you, the guttural groan you let out probably echoed down the halls. “i’ll take that as a no,” he laughs.
later that night after you’ve returned home and showered, you hear a knock at your door. who the fuck? you open the door to see none other than jung fucking wooyoung standing there in his full pajama set.
a giggle escapes your lip as you quirk a brow at him, “and what do you think you’re doing?”
“uh, sleepover?” he says, or asks, it’s hard to tell which one it was. once you see the container of brownies in his hands though? it was an immediate yes anyway. he cooks you dinner, you serve him wine, it all felt very domestic but also… just friendly? there was no tension, nothing dramatic. it was almost as if he were one of your girlfriends. you gossiped, laughed, watched movies, things that you’d do with your best friend.
while you guys are in the middle of watching the second hunger games movie, there’s another knock at the door.
“did you invite san or yeosang over?” you question, to which he shakes his head just as confused as you are. you get up and go open the door, freezing in place once you see who’s behind your door.
jaehyun.
all you can do is stare at him through the crack of the door, all the emotions you had forgotten about a month ago suddenly crashing down on you.
“who is it?” you hear wooyoung shout from the couch. nobody answered him.
“hey,” jaehyun started. no.
“don’t,” you hold your hand up, “are you fucking kidding me right now?”
“look, i know i messed up—”
“messed up? messed up?! we haven’t spoken in a fucking month, jaehyun!” you snatch your phone from the pocket of your pajama pants and open the messages between you guys, “12:28am, what the fuck was that? 12:46am, hello? jaehyun are you serious? did you fall asleep? 1:13am, hello, what the fuck?” your eyes are open so wide they’re damn near bulging out of your head. behind you, wooyoung creeps up around the corner.
“baby, please just let me in so we can talk—”
“about what? about fucking what, jaehyun? have you finally remembered what happened that night or what?” silence. “well, i’m waiting. what happened? please, do tell.”
silence, again. fine.
“i thought you were on tour, why are you here?”
“i- i am- i was i- i’m back just for the week. i-“ he sighs, searching for the words he wants to say, “i- i cheated on you,” he said under his breath as he looked at his feet.
“hm? what?”
“i fucking cheated! okay? are you happy now? i cheated on you!”
your five senses have been infiltrated once again.
blurry. everything is blurry, you can’t see who you’re talking to anymore. nothing is clear, you’ve spent two years of your life with this man. the man you thought you would marry, the man who wrote songs about you, the man who was your first everything.
your ears are ringing, what did he say? you knew it, you had a feeling deep down inside. but for him to just flat out scream it out like it means nothing? like you mean nothing?
you can smell the alcohol on his breath as he speaks to you. oh, he’s been drinking. again. go figure.
just seeing him leaves a bitter taste on your tongue.
tears. red, hot, angry tears are streaming down your face. you feel your hands touch your face, are you moving your arms? you can’t feel them. everything feels numb, you’re numb.
“y-you need to go,” you whimper, looking right through him as more and more tears cascade down your cheeks.
“jagiya, i-”
“don’t,” you feel a hand on the small of your back. your lip starts quivering, you start breathing faster, you’re panicking. you don’t understand anything that’s going on right now. “you heard her, you need to go,” he doesn’t. “leave before i fucking make you leave, and trust me, you don’t want that.” wooyoung threatens, causing you to jump slightly at the sudden outburst. his hand rubs circles against your spine.
jaehyun looks between the two of you, then at the floor, ultimately deciding to leave the premise. your numb hand slowly moves to shut the door, and all you can do is stare at it. you feel your body slide down the door as your sobs finally break free.
you knew it.
you fucking knew it.
why were you in denial for so long? why did you allow this to happen to yourself? this is all your fault, if you knew, then why didn’t you end it before now? do you still love him? were you hoping that it wasn’t true? god, it would’ve been much better if you were just making thing up in your head.
you sob, and you sob even more. wooyoung drops down next to you and pulls you into his arms. “what’s wrong with me?” you cry out.
“nothing is wrong with you, honey. nothing at all, okay?” he hears his chin on top of your head as he rubs your back, “he has no idea what he just lost. you’re the smartest, most amazing, beautiful, kind, courageous person i know. you’ll find the one who’s best for you.”
“promise?” you whimper.
wooyoungs heart is torn. all he wants in this moment is for you to be okay, happy, and in his arms. “i promise, i really do.”
it’s been a long time since that night. a really long time, actually. you’ve had three comebacks since then and are currently working on your fourth; golden hour: part 4. now sitting in the studio, wooyoung and yourself are bundled up on the couch together scrolling on pinterest.
“i’ll do it if you do it,” he smiles and turns his head to look at you, showing you a picture of cherry red hair.
“you want me to dye my hair red?” he nods. “you’re not gonna chicken out last second and have me running around like strawberry shortcake, will you?” wooyoung damn near dies. why? because it’s you. it wasn’t nearly half as funny as he made it out to be, but you just tickle him so good.
“of course not, i’ve already dyed my hair red before, remember?” oh you remember all too well. that red hair looked spectacular on him. it was during that time when you had a crush on him—or was it before then? scratch that, it was when you first met. you had a huge crush on wooyoung when you first met, and it lasted up until you met jaehyun for the first time. when was that? 2021? you broke up in… 2024?
gosh, it’s been so long since you’ve even thought about jaehyun. it’s now 2026 and you all have moved on to bigger and better things. last you checked, he was doing his military service.
haha, you lost your hair. loser.
you know who hasn’t lost his hair? wooyoung. where were we? oh right, back to the crush thing. yeah, you had the fattest crush on him, just cute puppy love at first. he didn’t know, you tried to hold it in, it ate away at you for years, and eventually the crush faded. but now? something has changed, you can’t tell if it’s the way he looks at you or if the plates in your brain shifted the night he comforted you during one of the most heartbreaking moments in your life. all you know is right now, he is taking your breath away all over again.
“do you know how to dye hair?” you ask.
“i mean… not really, but i can try.” he smiles down at you, oh god.
“alright, i’ll dye your hair tonight. come over with the stuff so i can get to business, and make sure you get enough!”
“how much is enough?”
“the whole store baby, the whole store.” you rest your head on his shoulder and continue scrolling on your phone.
baby? did she just call me baby? she’s never done that before. what does that mean? uh, my heart is kind of freaking out. oh my god, does she hear it?
so yeah, wooyoung may or may not have never gotten over his crush on you. fuck that, he never did. it’s definite. when you were with jaehyun he had to tone down the his touching, flirting, all the things that makes him, well, him. but it’s been two years since jaehyun has been out of the picture. guess what that means? it’s his turn.
he’s had a crush on you ever since you graced his eyes, though he never allowed himself to show it. which, even if he did, he’s pretty sure you’d only just think it’s him being the same old flirty wooyoung when that wouldn’t have been the case at all. i mean, yes, he has flirted with you, and yes it has been serious on his end. does he think you got the hint though? pfft, how could you? you were too far up jaehyuns ass to pay him any mind.
knock knock knock
“yay, yay, yay, yay, yay, yay, yayyyyy!” you squeal as you make your way over to your door. you love when it’s time to get your hair done, just as much as you love doing others’ hair. you yank the door open with a big smile, and as expected, wooyoung is standing there with a boyish grin and a bag full of hair supplies.
“are you ready to stain your entire bathroom?”
“yes!”
here’s the current situation; you currently have your hair soaked in red dye under a shower cap. wooyoung? he’s sitting on the toilet while you stand in front of him and work the dye into his hair.
“you should’ve put gloves on,” he says as he watches you work your magic above him. he’s extremely aware of how close you are to one another right now, you between his legs while he struggles to figure out where the fuck he should put his hands.
“well you didn’t either. if you get in trouble then i’ll get in trouble too,” you smile down at him with the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen. he takes this moment to really look at you. you have a beauty mark right under your lip, how has he never noticed that before? you smell amazing, don’t get him wrong, you always smell good, but right now? oh my god. vanilla and everything gourmand. wooyoung swears he’s become addicted to it.
you know he’s staring, you’re extremely aware of it actually. that’s what makes this all the more fun. you’ve noticed he’s been extra clingy lately. always sitting with you during practice breaks, going to get food with you, getting food for you, he’s even been walking you home some nights. you’re not sure why, but your hopes are most certainly high.
“what’re you looking at?” you question with an anxious laugh.
“your beauty mark,” he replies, reaching up to rub his finger against it. okay, that took you off guard completely. your entire body froze for a second before getting back to work on his hair, reaching to gather more of the dye. wooyoung noticed the effect he had on you.
“you’re just now noticing it?”
“yeah, i don’t know why though…” he says softly, almost mesmerized. “it’s pretty,” the room is silent for a moment after that, the only sound coming from your hands working on his head. “you’re pretty.”
you freeze.
what did he just say?
your eyes fall to his, he’s already looking at you. you both stare at each other for a moment, no words being said but somehow it’s so loud in this bathroom. you notice him leaning up, an attempt to get closer to your face. you find yourself also inching closer to him, so close yet so far.
your lips are inches away from each other at this point, his breath tickling your face. his hands slide up the backs of your legs and that’s what snaps you out of it. you quickly pull away, clearing your throat. wooyoung jumps from shock and does the same, nervously rubbing his hands on his thighs.
“um- your hair should be good now. we just have to leave it in for thirty minutes,” you quickly say as your hands move just as fast to grab all the trash.
wooyoung clears his throat, “yeah, alright. okay,” he stands and grabs a shower cap, putting it over his hair. you’re out of the bathroom in a flash, speeding to your trash can and onto the couch. fuck. what just happened.
you turn a show on, no idea what it is but it provides you a distraction from whatever the hell you almost did in there. wooyoung makes himself known by sinking into the couch next to you. you don’t look at him, don’t acknowledge his presence, you don’t even speak. all you can do is stare straight ahead at the tv and pray the timer on your phone goes off any minute now.
wooyoung is the same. this fucking timer can’t go off any faster. he takes his chances and looks over at you, but you pay him no mind. ouch. it’s stays exactly like that until thirty minutes are up, the both of you springing off the couch and heading for the bathroom.
“we should wash your hair out first since it’s been sitting longer,” he points out. yeah, i guess we should. you grab a towel and wrap it around your shoulders while wooyoung takes your shower cap off. god this is awkward. you get on your knees and lean over the tub while wooyoung begins massaging your head under the water.
“holy fucking shit it’s been almost ten minutes why is the water not clear yet?” you yell out. you back is aching and your sure wooyoungs is too.
“i don’t know, do you think it’s good enough? i mean, it’s pink water and not red water so…”
“it’s good. it’s good, it’s good. oh my god, my back hurts please let me get up,” you groan as wooyoung helps you up and wraps the towel over your head. you just stare at each other for a minute before letting out tiny laughs. “you’re next.”
wooyoung stares at your pink-stained bathtub, “yeah, i guess i am.” and then you repeat the process once more, except it’s much louder and way more annoying this time.
“ouch! don’t rip my hair out, damn it!”
“i’m sorry, im not trying to!”
“my back hurts, oh my god.”
“i’m never letting you dye my hair again.”
wah, wah, wah! crybaby, crybaby, crybaby!
eventually, the torture is over and it’s time to dry the hair. great.
“do you want me to dry your hair or do you have it?” you ask.
wooyoung smiles, “you can do it.” oh, of course. don’t be mistaken, the situation is still very much awkward, but somehow a bit of the tension has been released. that’s just how you guys are. while you dry his hair there’s nothing to be said, as if you would even be able to with how loud the damn thing is.
once you finish his hair you switch roles, but instead of you sitting on the toilet he stands behind you in front of the sink. perks of being taller, i guess. you watch him very carefully through the mirror as he runs his fingers through your hair, making sure to dry every piece without tangles. he’s so pretty, you can’t help but to think.
just then, he looks up at you. you’ve been caught. his smirk grows wide, “whatcha looking at, huh?” he yells over the blow dryer.
“mm, nothing,” you say innocently with the faintest smile.
he turns the blow dryer off, “huh? what was that?” he teases.
you roll your eyes, “i said nothing.” he places the blow dryer on the counter and traps you from behind, both arms resting on either side of your body.
“doesn’t look like nothing,” he whispers in your ear whilst maintaining eye contact in the mirror. is the window open? it’s very cold in here, no, it’s hot. it’s so fucking hot.
wooyoungs hands move to your waist and spin you around to face him, “you won’t run from me this time, will you?” he whispers, eyes flicking to your lips for a split second.
you can’t help but to notice how close you both are in this moment, his hips keeping you grounded against counter, the tips of your noses brushing. you shake your head as you both lean in, lips finally locking. his arms wrap around your waist and pull you impossibly closer, your arms lock around his neck, fingers pulling at his freshly dyed hair.
you open your eyes for a split second, seeing the cherry red hair you worked oh so hard on.
you hear wooyoungs groans as you pull his soft hair, and you can smell the strawberry chapstick he must’ve put on right before this.
your tongues mix together, now finally, you taste the strawberry chapstick.
his hands are roaming all over your body now, and you reciprocate. your hands glide down his back, feeling the muscles as they flex beneath your hands.
wooyoung groans into your mouth once more, feeding you with all of his beautiful sounds. yours mouths move in tandem with one another, barely coming up for air, but when you finally do? oh, it is so, so sweet.
your breaths mingle as you pull apart, staring into each others eyes. “so,” you squeak.
“so.”
“what now?” he hums as he rests his forehead on yours.
“hmm, round two?” you both giggle as you lock your lips for a second time that night, the both of you having no idea what you’ve just started.
it’s officially comeback day. you’ve got adrenaline flushing through your veins. no, seriously. you’re all backstage getting your make up and hair done. wooyoung is sitting beside you with his assigned make up artist while you get your hair done, scrolling through your phone and seeing what atiny thinks about the music video.
“wooyoung, atiny said they like our matching hair.” you giggle and show him the comments under the video.
“they have good taste,” he winks. after about fifteen minutes your hair is done and wooyoung has his make up on, it’s time to rotate with the other members. you walk out the room and to your dressing room to make any adjustments to your make up and hair. what? god forbid a girl has preferences.
“now why are you ruining what our lovely stylists worked so hard on?” the oh, so, familiar voice booms through your dressing room, causing you to jump and accidentally smear lipstick on your chin.
“wooyoung!” you whined, pouting at him through the mirror. he’s smirking, leaning against the doorframe. “it wasn’t ruined until you did that shit!” you groan, not noticing him close the door and lock it behind him. you’re too focused on trying to fix your make up that you don’t realize how close he is now.
“aww baby, it’s okay. here, let me see,” he leans down from behind and holds your face in his hand. oh. licking his lips, he kisses up from the smeared lipstick to your lips, stealing your breath away. you relax immediately, releasing the breath you didn’t know you were holding in all this time.
he pulls away with a frown, “mm. that didn’t work, hold on.” he moves his thumb to your chin, carefully wiping the lipstick off. his bottom lip is tucked between his teeth as he pulls your bottom lip down with his thumb. feeling a bit naughty, you take advantage of this moment. you open your mouth and let him thumb glide against your tongue, maintaining eye contact with the cherry-haired man. “oh, baby…” he groans, “you shouldn’t do that.”
that only encourages you to suck his thumb harder. “oh, i see. you wanna be a little slut, huh?” your eyes gloss over at that, pupils dilated. he pushes his thumb further back before sliding it out your mouth, holding the side of your head as you lean into his touch.
“please,” you beg.
“please what?” he presses, sinking down to his knees and turning your chair to face him. your legs spread willingly, your body moving before you can even think. his hands smooth over your thighs, trialing up your skirt, “you gotta tell me what you want or i can’t help you, my love.”
your breath hitches as he pulls down the shorts you’re wearing underneath your skirt. “p-please, touch me.”
“touch you?” he cocks his head to the side, “touch you where, huh?” wooyoung leaves a trail of kisses up your inner thighs and pushes up your skirt to reveal your panties. his thumb grazes the wet spot shining through them, “here?” your legs try to close but oh, oh no, he’s not having that. he keeps your legs spread with his hands, “keep these pretty legs open or you won’t be getting a damn thing from me, got it?”
you’ve never nodded your head so quick in your life.
he hooks his thumb on your panties and pushes them aside, mouth watering at the sight. “oh, look at this pretty pussy,” he damn near moans as he blows cool air against your heat, making your hips jerk forward. he smirks before sinking inbetween your thighs, flattening his tongue against you to test the waters. you lay your head back against the chair, a content sigh escaping your lips.
his tongue swirled around your clit once, twice, three times before he began to suck, eliciting a loud moan from you. then comes his fingers, and boy does he waste no time. he dives two fingers into your heat, curling and twisting while you encourage him with your moans.
“oh- fuck, youngie.” you cry out. he chuckles against your clit before picking up the pace, “please- don’t stop, please.”
“mm, yeah? don’t stop?”
“please-”
“tell me how good it feels baby, tell your youngie how good he’s treating your pussy.”
you’ve completely lost your mind at this point, the coil in your stomach is getting tighter and tighter by the second. not a single word is coming to mind. you can’t speak, you can hardly think, only thing you know is him. with another flick of his tongue you’re releasing all over his fingers, crying out for god knows who as you rock your hips with the movement of his fingers still inside of you.
“yeah baby, let it all out for me. cum all over my fingers.” he coos. he helps you ride out your orgasm with a couple kisses to your now swollen clit, kissing up your body to your mouth. you can taste yourself on his tongue, his fingers still pumping in and out of your at a slow pace. after another minute or two he finally pulls them out of you, sucking his fingers dry and pulling you into another sloppy, wet, kiss.
when he pulls away a string of saliva is left behind, keeping the two of you connected. “bend over the vanity for me, doll.” he says as he unbuckles his belt and works to get his pants off. you do as he says and watch in the mirror as he pulls his cock out. you bite your lip once you see his red, hot, angry tip is leaking with precum, mouth immediately watering. “it’s impolite to stare.” he teases, pushing your head further down as he lines up behind you.
he pushes your skirt over your hips and pulls your panties to the side again, rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit, your mouth falls open as a silent moan tears through you. wooyoung bites his lip as he watches through the mirror. “that feel good baby? you feel me?” you nod. all you can do is nod at this point, you’re so insanely fucked out and he’s barely even done anything. “i need you to be quieter this time, okay? we gotta go on in five minutes.” he whispers in your ear.
his hands hold your hips steady against the vanity as he pushes in, holding back his own moan as he sinks into your heat. “fuckkk, baby.” he groans, his head falling back before he slides out and then slams back into you.
his whole body is leaning over you now as his hips piston into your gummy walls, your mouth has fallen open once again and your eyes roll to the back of your head. “oh, fuck!” your cry out, causing wooyoung to shove two fingers into your mouth to shut you the fuck up.
“what did i say?” he groans breathlessly into your ear, “be a good girl for me, shhh, shh, it’s okay.” he has to bite into your shoulder himself just to stay quiet, his own orgasm creeping up on him. the coil in your stomach is tightening again, your hands grabbing out for anything to keep you stable.
your orgasm tears through you once more, tears running down your face. “i feel you, baby. i’m here.” his hips are moving at an impossible speed by now, chasing his orgasm along with yours. once he feels your walls fluttering around him he knows it’s time. “cum again, baby. cum all over my cock, please- cum for me.” his whines drive you over the edge.
your entire body trembles underneath his as you release for the third time, all over his now softening cock. he pumps a few more times, making sure every last drop is gone before removing his fingers from your mouth and leaning back, looking down at the beautiful sight. once he slides out of you, his thumb replaces his cock. bending down to be face to face with your pussy, he pumps his thumb in and out of you a few times. “gotta make sure you don’t leak all over the stage, huh?” he smirks, removing his thumb and sliding your panties back into place.
“hey, where are my shorts?” you ask once you’ve both cleaned each other up. wooyoung smirks at you for what feels like the hundredth time today.
“oh, you mean these?” he holds them up on his pointer finger, waving them around in your face before shoving them in his pocket. “you won’t be needing them.”
staff knocks on your door, “thirty seconds, let’s go!” you both look at the door and then at each other.
wooyoung leans towards you, “like i said, don’t leak all over the stage.” and with that, he leaves a smack on your ass before walking out of the dressing room, leaving both you and your five senses going haywire.
genre: angst, hurt w/comfort (i'm not a monster cmon), established relationship, nonidol!au
word count: 10.7k
warnings: no use of y/n, mentions of alcohol, miscommunication (again!), possessive!wooyo, soft dom!wooyo, also whiny wooyo, pronebone!!!!!, praise kink, make up sex, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap!), p in v, mating press (kinda), multiple o's, fingering, oral, felching, breath play, spit play/spit as a means for lube, creampie, cockwarming, slight choking (?), mutual masturbation, body worship, breeding kink (mentioned like once tbh), a little bit of edging, emotional sex (he cries, her kitty did too), overstimulation / lmk if i missed any!
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author's note: based on this request! i lowkey went overboard and got carried away with the makeup sex but who's going to complaing if their steak is too juicy and the lobster too buttery, yk? :p i hope you enjoy this my love @moilele <333
permanent taglist: @norixseaweed @f3mboienjoyer @liightlizard @minguxxs @mourninglizzy + if you want to be added to my taglist, let me know :))
The key turns in the lock at 1:47 AM. You’ve been staring at the clock for so long the numbers have burned into your vision, following you even when you close your eyes. The candlelight dinner you prepared hours ago has congealed on the table, the wax from the candles having melted into sad, misshapen puddles.
When Wooyoung stumbles through the door, the smell hits you first—sharp, medicinal, unmistakably alcohol—before you even see his face. He’s loosening his tie with one hand, the other gripping the doorframe for balance. He tries to toe off his shoes and only manages to get one halfway off before giving up. He lets the other one fall with a thud, then drops his battered work bag into the hallway, not caring if it blocks the door or if either of you end up tripping over it later.
“Hey,” he mumbles, not quite meeting your eyes. “What are you doing still awake?”
You don’t answer immediately. You just watch him, this man who hasn’t texted you in nine hours, who left you sitting here with a heart that sank deeper into your chest with each passing minute. The silence stretches between you, taut as a wire.
“You didn’t answer your phone,” you finally say. Your voice comes out steadier than you expected, a calm that doesn’t match the storm inside.
Wooyoung blinks, processing your words through the alcohol fog. “Sorry, we were out at the bar. The project…” He waves his hand vaguely. “It went really well. Everyone was—”
“Celebrating,” you finish for him. Your eyes drift to the table behind you, the two plates still set with the meal you spent three hours preparing. The anniversary cake you ordered sits untouched in its box, the words “One Year” now barely visible through the condensation that’s gathered on the lid.
It hits you then, with a clarity that makes your stomach drop. He doesn’t remember.
“Look, I know I’m sorry that I’m late again,” Wooyoung says, finally noticing your expression. “Things got crazy at the office. You know babe, the promotion, it’s—”
“Do you know what day it is?” you ask quietly.
He frowns, clearly trying to think through his drunken haze. “Uhh Tuesday?”
The silence that follows is deafening. You watch the realization slowly dawn on his face, the way his eyes widen slightly, the way his mouth opens then closes without sound.
“Shit,” he whispers. “Oh fuck…”
“You forgot our anniversary.” It’s not a question.
“I didn’t—”Wooyoung runs a hand through his hair, his movements still uncoordinated. “The project deadline was today. We’ve been working toward this for weeks, you know that. And then everyone wanted to go out, and I couldn’t just—”
“Couldn’t just text me? Couldn’t just call to say you’d be late?” Your voice rises slightly, despite your efforts to keep it steady. “I sat here for hours, Wooyoung. I thought something happened to you. I called your friends, hell I even called your office phone.”
“I’m fine,” he says, and there’s an edge to his voice now, defensive. “I’m right here. Everything’s fine.”
“Everything is not fine.” You stand up, needing the distance between you. “You’ve been working non-stop for weeks. You come home exhausted, barely speaking to me, and now you can’t even remember our anniversary?”
Wooyoung sighs, the sound heavy with exhaustion and frustration. “I’m doing this for us, you know that—”
“Stop,” you cut him off. “Stop saying that. I’m not asking you to quit your job, Wooyoung. I’m asking you to be present. To remember that I exist when you’re not at work.”
He looks at you then, really looks at you, and for a moment you see the man you fell in love with—the one who used to notice when you changed your hair, who used to call just to hear your voice. But then his expression hardens again.
“You don’t understand the pressure I’m under,” he says, his voice tight. “This isn’t just about me. It’s about our future.”
“Our future?” You let out a humourless laugh. “What fucking future? I barely see you anymore. When was the last time we had an actual conversation that wasn’t about how tired you are?”
“I’m trying to build something for us.”
“No, you’re building something for yourself and calling it ‘us’ to make yourself feel better.” The words spill out before you can stop them, raw and honest in a way that makes your chest ache. “I feel like you only love me when it’s convenient for you. When you have the time and energy.”
Wooyoung’s face darkens. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” You step closer, needing him to see, to understand. “When was the last time you asked how I was doing? When was the last time you noticed anything about my life that wasn’t directly related to yours?”
“I’m under a lot of stress right now, baby.”
“We’re all under stress, Wooyoung. That’s not an excuse to disappear on your girlfriend.”
The room falls silent. Wooyoung’s shoulders are tense, his jaw clenched. You can see the exhaustion etched into every line of his face, the dark circles under his eyes that have been there for weeks. Part of you wants to reach out, to comfort him, but the hurt is too fresh, too deep.
“I’m doing my best,” he says finally, his voice quieter now. “I’m trying to balance everything.”
“Your best isn’t good enough.” The words hang in the air between you, sharp and painful. “Not when your best means I spend our anniversary wondering if you’re lying dead in a ditch somewhere because you couldn’t be bothered to send a text.”
Wooyoung flinches. “That’s not—”
“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” Your voice breaks. “To sit here, watching the clock, imagining all the worst possible scenarios because the man I love can’t remember I exist?”
“I do remember you exist,” he says, and there’s frustration in his voice now. “I think about you all the time. I’m doing all of this for you.”
“For me?” You laugh, the sound hollow. “This isn’t for me, Wooyoung. I never asked for any of this. I asked for you. Not this stressed-out stranger who comes home at midnight and falls asleep on the couch.”
He’s silent for a long moment, and you can see him struggling, the alcohol and exhaustion making it hard for him to find the right words. When he finally speaks, his voice is strained.
“Maybe this is the real me,” he says. “Maybe this is who I am now and you just don’t like what you see.”
The words hit you like a physical blow. You take a step back, your breath catching in your throat. You shake your head, denying the words that came out of his mouth.
“That’s not true,” you whisper.
“Isn’t it?” Wooyoung’s voice rises, matching your earlier statement, fuelled by frustration and alcohol. “Because it seems like nothing I do is ever good enough for you. I’m either working too much or not making enough money or not paying enough attention—”
“I’ve never said that.”
“You don’t have to say it. I can see it in your face every time I come home late. Every time I’m too tired to talk.” He runs his hand through his hair again, the gesture agitated. “Maybe you should just find someone who can give you what you want, since apparently I can’t.”
The silence that follows is absolute. You stare at him, unable to believe the words that just came out of his mouth. Wooyoung looks just as shocked as you feel, his eyes widening as he realizes what he’s said.
“Wait… shit no that’s not what I meant…” he starts, but you cut him off.
“You want me to leave?” Your voice is barely audible.
“No, I didn’t mean…“ Wooyoung takes a step toward you, but you back away. “I’m sorry, I’m drunk and exhausted and I didn’t—”
“You meant it,” you say. There’s no anger in your voice now, just a deep, bone-weary sadness. “Maybe not all of it, but part of it.”
He doesn’t deny it. The silence stretches between you, filled with everything that’s been left unsaid for weeks.
“I need to be alone,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. The words hang between you, a barrier neither of you has the strength to cross. “I can’t do this right now.”
Wooyoung opens his mouth to respond, but you’re already moving, already turning away from the wreckage of your anniversary night. You don’t look back as you walk down the hallway to your bedroom—the bedroom that was supposed to be shared, not a place of retreat. The door clicks shut behind you with a finality that makes your chest ache.
In the darkness of your room, you press your back against the door and slide down until you’re sitting on the floor. Your shoulders shake with silent sobs you refuse to let him hear. The anniversary card you’d written him earlier sits on your nightstand, the words inside now feeling hollow and foolish.
Time passes. You don’t know how long you sit there, but eventually, you stand on trembling legs and change into your sleep clothes. The bed feels too big, too empty. You lie on your side, staring at the empty space where Wooyoung should be, and wait for sleep that doesn’t come. An hour passes. Maybe two. Your anger has cooled to a dull ache in your chest, but sleep still eludes you. Finally, you slip out of bed, needing water, needing to move.
The living room is dark except for the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through the blinds. And there he is—Wooyoung, slumped on the couch, still in his work clothes, one arm thrown over his eyes. Even in the dim light, you can see the tear tracks on his face, the dark stain on the cushion beneath his cheek.
Your heart constricts. Despite everything—despite the anger, despite the hurt—you still love him. You still care.
You move silently to the kitchen, filling a glass with water and grabbing the bottle of aspirin from the cabinet. Your movements are careful, deliberate, as you place them on the coffee table beside him. You don’t wake him. You don’t say a word.
Instead, you stand there for a moment, watching the rise and fall of his chest. Even in sleep, his face is troubled, his brow furrowed. You want to smooth the lines away, to tell him everything will be okay. But you can’t. Not yet.
So you do the only thing you can. You take care of him, silently, the way you’ve always done. Because even when he forgets, even when he’s lost in his own world of stress and ambition, you remember. You remember the man you fell in love with, the one who’s still in there somewhere, buried under exhaustion and pressure.
You pull the throw blanket from the back of the couch and drape it carefully over him. Your fingers brush against his hair, just once, so lightly he doesn’t stir.
Then you turn and walk away, back to the bedroom that feels emptier than it should. You climb into bed alone, the space beside you cold and untouched. You wonder if this is how relationships begin to break—not through lack of love, but through all the ways people fail to hold onto each other when life becomes too heavy. Sleep comes eventually, but it’s fitful, troubled by dreams of a future that feels increasingly uncertain.
══════════════════
Wooyoung wakes slowly to the dull throb of a splitting headache and a sharp ache running down his neck. The couch digs painfully into his back, one arm numb from the awkward angle he’d fallen asleep in. For a few disoriented seconds, he just stares at the ceiling, blinking against the pale morning light filtering through the apartment. Then last night hits him all at once. The argument. Your tears. The look on your face when he realized what day it was.
With a quiet groan, he pushes himself upright, rubbing a hand over his face. That’s when he notices the blanket draped carefully over him. The glass of water sitting on the coffee table beside two aspirin. His chest tightens. You took care of him anyway. Even after everything.
Wooyoung stares at the medicine for a long moment before letting out a weak, humourless laugh under his breath. “Fuck,” he mutters hoarsely, guilt crawling up his throat.
He swallows the aspirin dry before forcing himself to stand, exhaustion still heavy in his limbs. The apartment is quiet as he makes his way toward the bedroom, each step slower than the last, like he’s afraid of what he’ll find on the other side of the door. He eases it open carefully. You’re asleep, curled toward his side of the bed even though it stayed empty all night. In the soft morning light, he notices the tear tracks dried against your cheeks immediately, and something inside him caves in at the sight. His own eyes still burn from last night, raw and swollen in a way he knows mirrors yours. For a moment, he just stands there in silence, looking at you. At the woman who still tucked a blanket around him after he forgot about your anniversary. After he hurt you. Wooyoung closes his eyes briefly, jaw tightening.
He closes the door to your shared bedroom and makes his way to the kitchen. He quietly reaches for his phone and silences the alarm for work before typing out a lengthy message to his boss with determined fingers. Nothing at work feels more important than this anymore.
He had to fix this.
══════════════════
Your eyes open to the empty space beside you, the pillow still perfectly fluffed, untouched. Of course he’s already gone. The realization settles in your chest like a stone. You lie there for a moment, the events of last night crashing back with brutal clarity. The forgotten anniversary. The heartbreak that ensued. The fight. The words that can’t be unsaid. You press the heels of your hands against your eyes, forcing the tears to remain at bay.
Then you hear it—the soft clink of dishes from the kitchen.
Your heart stutters. You freeze, listening. There it is again—the unmistakable sound of someone moving around in the kitchen. The one that should be empty right now. Panic rises in your throat. He’s still here. Wooyoung is still here, and you have no idea what to say to him after everything that happened. After everything you both said.
You sit up slowly, your body heavy with emotional exhaustion. The floor is cold beneath your feet as you pad toward the bedroom door. Your hand hesitates on the doorknob. What will you see when you open it? Will he be packing his things? Will he be waiting to tell you it’s over?
The door creaks as you pull it open. The hallway seems longer than usual as you make your way toward the kitchen. With each step, your anxiety grows, a tight knot in your chest that makes it hard to breathe.
And then you see him.
Wooyoung stands at the counter, his back to you. He’s still wearing the same clothes from last night, rumpled and wrinkled. His hair is a mess, sticking up at odd angles. He moves slowly, methodically, as if each action requires immense concentration.
“Aren’t you going to work?” The words slip out before you can stop them, your voice hoarse from crying.
Wooyoung turns, and the sight of him makes your breath catch. His eyes are bloodshot, his face pale. He looks like he hasn’t slept at all, like he’s been carrying the weight of your argument with him through the long night.
“I told them I wasn’t coming in today or for the rest of the week,” he says simply.
The words hang in the air between you. You stare at him, trying to process what this means. Wooyoung never calls in. He’s the type who goes to work with a fever of 102, who works through weekends and holidays without complaint.
“What? Why?” you ask, the question barely audible.
Wooyoung sets down the cup he’s been holding. His knuckles turned white as he gripped onto the glass tighter. “I already lost enough time with you yesterday. I’m not about to just leave you here alone, again.”
The simplicity of his words hits you like a physical blow. You lean against the doorframe, suddenly weak. The kitchen table is set—two plates, two mugs, the breakfast you used to make together on weekend mornings. The silence that follows is thick with everything left unsaid. You watch as he turns back to the counter, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion. There’s a vulnerability in his posture you haven’t seen in months—the confident, ambitious man you’ve been watching slip away replaced by someone unsure, someone hurting.
“I’m sorry,” he says finally, still facing away from you. “For everything I said last night. For making you feel like you don’t matter to me.” He turns to face you, and the raw emotion in his eyes makes your chest ache. “You matter more than anything, and I’ve been acting like you don’t.”
You want to go to him, to bridge the distance between you, but your feet feel rooted to the spot. “And the rest?” you ask. “What you said about me finding someone else?”
Wooyoung’s face crumples. “I didn’t mean any of that stupid shit. I was an idiot and said the most hurtful thing I could think of because I was angry at myself, not at you. What I said to you was inexcusable.” He runs a hand through his hair, the gesture agitated. “I was so terrified of failing you that I ended up failing you anyway.”
The truth of his words settles over you. You step into the kitchen, moving toward him slowly, giving him the chance to retreat if he wants to. He doesn’t.
“I don’t want someone else,” you say quietly. “I want you. Not the version of you that’s so caught up in work he forgets we exist. That I exist.”
Wooyoung’s eyes filled with tears. “I’ve been so focused on building a future for us that I forgot to be present in our now.” He takes a step toward you. “I’m so sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me right away or ever but—God, I fucked up so bad.”
You look at the breakfast he’s prepared—eggs perfectly set, toast golden, the smell of coffee already doing something to the tension in your shoulders. He’s always been a better cook than you. You’d forgotten that, somehow, in the wreckage of last night.
“Come here,” you say softly.
He crosses the kitchen in three quick strides, and then his arms are around you, holding you so tightly it’s almost painful. You can feel him trembling, feel the way his heart hammers against your cheek. Your face tucks just under his chin, and you feel the warm wetness of tears landing soft in your hair.
“I love you,” he whispers, the words muffled against your hair. “I love you so much, and I’m so sorry I made you doubt that.”
You hold him just as tightly, your own tears spilling over. “I love you too,” you mumble against his chest. “Don’t shut me out like that again, You know I’m always here for you.”
Wooyoung pulls back, his hands coming up to cradle your face. His thumbs brush away your tears with a gentleness that makes your heart ache. “I know,” he says. “I’ll do better for you. For us. Today, tomorrow, and however long as it takes.”
He leans forward and presses his forehead against yours. “Can I show you something?” You nod.
“I got you something,” he says. “I remembered that I had a whole elaborate plan to give this to you.” He exhales, something between a laugh and a sob. “Then I got the promotion news and I just—I let that take over everything. Your gift has been sitting in my bag for two weeks while I was out celebrating myself.” He shakes his head. “I made our anniversary about me. I’m such an idiot.”
“Yeah, the biggest idiot of all time.”
He lets out a small chuckle, a hint of guilt and sadness follow the hollow laugh. A flicker of something hopeful crosses his exhausted face. “Can I still give it to you?”
You look up at him. “Of course.”
Wooyoung’s face lights up with a small, tentative smile. He takes your hand and leads you to the living room. You both sink into the couch where he spent the night, your shoulders touching. His work bag sits on the floor beside it. He reaches down and pulls out a small velvet box.
Your breath catches.
“It’s not what you think,” he says quickly, seeing your expression. “Not yet, anyway.” He opens the box to reveal a delicate silver bracelet, with a small charm hanging from it—a tiny compass.
“It’s so you always find your way back to me,” he explains, his voice soft. “Even when I’m being a complete dumbass.”
You look from the bracelet to his face, seeing the hope and fear mingled in his eyes. This is what you fell in love with—not the ambitious, driven man who works too much, but this man who’s vulnerable enough to admit when he’s wrong, who’s brave enough to try to fix what he’s broken.
“It’s beautiful,” you say, holding out your wrist.
As Wooyoung fastens the bracelet with trembling fingers, you realize that healing won’t happen overnight. There will be more conversations, more difficult moments as you both learn to balance his career with your relationship. But as his hand finds yours, the bracelet cool against your skin, you know you’re willing to try.
Because some things are worth fighting for. Some people are worth the struggle. And this man—flawed and imperfect but trying, always trying—is one of them.
“I should have called,” he says finally, his voice quiet in the morning stillness. “I should have texted. I kept thinking about it, but then someone would pull me into another conversation, and I’d get distracted, and then...” He trails off, shaking his head. “That’s no excuse.”
“No, it’s not,” you agree, but there’s no anger in your voice now. Just bone-deep weariness.
Wooyoung’s shoulders slump. He looks smaller somehow, diminished by his own guilt. “I’ve been so focused on proving myself at work that I forgot to be present here. With you.” His eyes find yours, red-rimmed and sincere. “I’m drowning, and instead of asking for help, I’ve been pulling you under with me.”
Your chest tightens at his words. You’ve been so wrapped up in your own hurt that you haven’t fully considered his perspective. “Why didn’t you tell me you were struggling?” you ask softly.
He lets out a shaky breath. “Because I was supposed to be the strong one. The one who had it all figured out.” His voice cracks. “I didn’t want you to see how overwhelmed I was. How scared I am that I won’t be enough.”
The admission hangs in the air between you. You reach for his hand, your fingers hesitantly brushing against his. He turns his palm up, letting you take it.
“I’m sorry too,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “For being so accusatory last night. For making you doubt that your best wasn’t enough. And for dismissing the fact that you work so immensely hard to provide for us.”
Wooyoung looks up, surprise evident in his eyes.
“I was angry,” you continue, “but I was also terrified. Every time you came home late without calling, I imagined the worst. And then I’d feel so stupid when you finally texted, like I was being dramatic or clingy.”
“You’re not,” he says firmly. “You were right to be worried. I’ve been a completely inconsiderate asshole.”
You squeeze his hand. “And I said things I didn’t mean. About you not loving me.” The words are hard to say, hard to admit. “I know that’s not true. I just... I missed you. I missed us.”
A tear slips down Wooyoung’s cheek. “I’ve missed us too,” he admits. “I’ve been so caught up in work that I forgot how to be a person. How to be your person.”
You shift closer to him on the couch, the gap between you narrowing. Your free hand reaches up to brush away his tear, your touch tentative, questioning. He leans into it, his eyes closing briefly.
“I’m going to do better,” he promises. “I’ve already talked to my boss about setting better boundaries. About leaving work at a reasonable hour, about not checking emails at home.” He opens his eyes, looking at you with such intensity it makes your breath catch. “You deserve more than the scraps of time and attention I’ve been giving you.”
“What if you can’t?” you ask, voicing the fear that’s been haunting you. “What if work pulls you back in?”
Wooyoung’s expression turns determined. “Then I’ll walk away. Find something else. Because nothing is worth losing you over.” He brings your joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Nothing.”
Your vision blurs with fresh tears. “I don’t want you to give up your career for me.”
“I’m not,” he assures you. “I’m choosing our relationship. Choosing you. The career is just a job. I can be replaced at any given moment but you? You’re my whole life. You’re irreplaceable.”
The words wash over you, healing some of the hurt that’s been festering. You move closer still, until your knees are touching, until you can feel the warmth of him beside you.
“I love you,” you say simply. “Even when you’re being an idiot and forgetting our anniversary.”
A watery laugh escapes him. “I love you too. I’m your idiot, though.”
Your hand finds its way to his face, cupping his cheek. His stubble is rough against your palm, grounding you in this moment. He turns his head slightly, pressing a kiss to your palm, his eyes never leaving yours.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his voice raw with emotion.
You nod, unable to form words around the lump in your throat.
Wooyoung leans forward slowly, giving you time to pull away if you want to. You don’t. When his lips meet yours, it’s like coming home after a long journey. There’s relief in the touch, and longing, and a deep, abiding affection that transcends the hurt of the past weeks.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your lips. “I’m so sorry.”
His kisses move to your cheek, to the corner of your eye where tears still linger. “I’ll do better,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin.
You tilt your head, giving him access to your neck, where he presses soft, apologetic kisses. “I know you will,” you whisper, your fingers tangling in his hair.
Wooyoung pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours. “I don’t deserve you,” he says. “But I’m going to spend every day trying to be worthy of you.”
You shake your head. “You already are. You just got lost for a while.”
He pulls you into his arms, holding you against his chest. You can hear his heartbeat, steady and strong beneath your ear. His hand strokes your hair, gentle and soothing.
“I was so scared,” you admit, the words muffled against his shirt. “That we were falling apart, and I didn’t know how to stop it.”
His arms tighten around you. “We’re not falling apart,” he promises. “We’re just... learning how to be together in a new way. With new challenges.”
You look up at him, seeing the determination in his eyes. “Together,” you repeat. “That’s the important part.”
Wooyoung nods, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “Together. Always.”
The breakfast he made sits forgotten on the table, growing cold. But you don’t mind. There will be other breakfasts, other mornings. Right now, all that matters is this—the two of you, holding onto each other, finding your way back to what matters most.
“I think,” Wooyoung says after a while, his voice soft with sleepiness and emotion, “that since i took a few days off we could spend more time together. Just us. No work, no distractions.”
You raise an eyebrow. “You? Taking time off? Who are you and what have you done with my workaholic boyfriend?”
He laughs, the sound warming you from the inside out. “I’ve been replaced by someone with better priorities.” His expression turns serious. “I mean it, though. We need this. I need this. To remember that I have a lot of making up to do.”
The idea is tempting. “And how would you do that, hm?”
“I could think of one way right now,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low, intimate timbre that sends a shiver down your spine.
Before you can respond, Wooyoung stands and scoops you into his arms, his movements surprisingly fluid despite his exhaustion. You gasp, instinctively wrapping your arms around his neck as he carries you toward your bedroom—your shared bedroom that’s been missing his presence for far too long.
“Wooyoung,” you breathe, your heart racing as he pushes the door open with his foot. “Put me down! I could’ve walked to the bedroom too, idiot.”
“Sorry princess. I couldn't help myself,” he says, his eyes dark with desire as he lays you gently on the bed.
He climbs onto the bed beside you, his weight making the mattress dip. For a moment, he just looks at you, his expression a mixture of reverence and hunger that makes your breath catch.
“Missed you,” he whispers, his hand coming up to trace the line of your jaw. “So much.”
You reach for him, pulling him down into a kiss that’s deeper than before, more urgent. His lips move against yours with a desperation that speaks volumes about the distance that’s grown between you. You can taste the salt of dried tears on his skin, feel the slight tremble in his hands as they slide down to your waist.
You fist your hands in the crisp fabric of his shirt. The buttons press sharp and insistent against your chest, and you tug at them, desperate, fumbling until the first one gives. He groans, shifting so he can help, pulling away just enough to make quick work of the rest. The shirt falls open, exposing him to the morning light, the edges of his collarbone flushed and vulnerable.
Your breath hitches—you’d forgotten, somehow, how beautiful he is like this. His body is lean but not slight, muscle hugging bone and sinew in all the right places. You drag your hand along the inside of his forearm, tracing the thick black lines of the rose inked from his wrist to the curve before his elbow. You glide over the leaves and thorns, half-expecting the tattoo to prickle beneath your touch. He shudders, eyes hooded, drinking in the sight of you devouring him.
You slide your palm up, across his biceps, his shoulder—mapping every inch, reacquainting yourself with the geography of him. His chest heaves, the faint dusting of hair there rising as you scrape your nails down to his abs. You can’t help but smile a little at how his stomach tenses, how he jerks when you reach the sensitive dip above his hips. He grabs your hand, bringing it to his mouth, kissing each knuckle in apology and in thanks. He’s trembling with wanting, with relief, and you want to swallow it whole.
You pull him closer, reaching up to slide the shirt off his shoulders. It pools at his elbows, then falls away, leaving him naked from the waist up. He presses you into the mattress, his lips everywhere at once—your jaw, your neck, the hollow at your collarbone. His hands are greedy, slipping under your shirt, seeking skin, worshipping you as if you’re the only thing in the world that makes sense.
Wooyoung’s fingers curl into the soft cotton of your sleep shirt as though he’s gathering every ounce of courage in his body to peel away not only the fabric but the distance he’s put between you. The morning light filters through gauzy curtains, illuminating the swirl of dust motes in the air and casting a gentle glow over your skin. He pauses, breath catching as he drinks you in—every freckle on your shoulder, every rise and fall of your chest—before tugging the shirt up and over your head in one smooth, practiced motion. The cool air of the room grazes your bare skin, sending a shiver through you as the light catches the gentle pebbling of your nipples and the subtle flex of your stomach muscles.
He chases away the chill, warm palms gliding up your sides, fingertips tracing the lines of your ribs, thumbs circling the soft shadows beneath your breasts as if to reassure himself that you are real—solid and here.
“W-Wooyoung,” you breathe out, barely more than a tremor in the air, but it hits him like a bullet: his gaze snaps up, blown wide and hungry, jaw tensing so hard you can see the cords in his neck stand out.
“Hmm?”
He sounds dazed, already gone for you. He searches your face for a clue, a hint of what you want, even as his hands keep moving—roaming your waist, palming the flare of your hips, stroking reverent up and down your spine. You shudder, skin prickling everywhere he touches. Then, with a slow, deliberate shift, you arch your back and hook your thumbs into the waistband of your underwear—your last layer—and drag them down, inch by inch, teasing yourself as much as him. You kick them off, letting them flutter to the floor, and stretch out on your stomach, arms reaching above your head, pressing your cheek into the pillow. You tilt your hips up, highlighting the bare swell of your ass, lush and expectant, every inch of you primed for him. The effect is instantaneous. He groans, low and feral in the back of his throat, his cock straining visibly against the thin grey of his sweats.
“What are you doing, baby?” he chokes, voice ragged, eyes glued to the sight of you so shamelessly presenting for him.
You glance back lazily over your shoulder, lips parted, smile hazy and filthy. “Lay on top of me.” Your voice drips with need, teasing, coaxing, as your ass shifts again, the jiggle intentional, sinful.
His adam's apple bobs, eyes glued to the way you’re presenting yourself to him, pussy glistening and waiting. He sits frozen for a second, maybe trying to get his breath back, maybe just marvelling at how good you look, spread out and waiting.
“Bet."
Then he’s on you, crawling up the bed with a focused intent that sends another thrill through you. “Up,” he murmurs, tapping your hip. You lift obediently and he slides a pillow beneath you, angling your hips up off the mattress before he kneels behind you, pushes your thighs apart with strong hands, trapping your legs beneath his as he blankets your body. His heat, heavy and suffocating in the best way, seeps into your skin. Your cheek sinks into the sheets; you can smell your own slick in the air, feel the pulse of anticipation between your thighs. He leans in, lips skimming up your spine, worshipping every vertebrae, every goosebump and dimple, before he settles his weight against your back, pinning you down and making you feel tiny beneath him.
You can’t help it: you reach back, grab at the waistband of his slacks, desperate to feel more of him. Your fingers brush the rigid outline of his cock and he shudders, hips jerking, the tip already wetting a dark stain into the fabric. He lets you tug down his pants, lifting his hips just enough to help you get them over his ass, down his thighs, clumsy and urgent. As soon as they’re off, he kicks them away, a brief chill racing up your legs before he covers you again, hotter and needier than before. You’re both trembling—maybe from nerves, maybe from how badly you need each other.
“Please,” he moans, the word nearly a whimper, as you wrap your hand around the bulge beneath his boxers, feeling him throb in your grip. He’s so hard it almost hurts, and when you pull the waistband down and finally set him free, he gasps, forehead dropping onto your shoulder. His cock springs out, thick and flushed, the head angry red and already leaking.
“Jesus,” you hear yourself say, voice thick with awe. “Someone’s a little eager.” He laughs, shaky, like he’ll fall apart if he doesn’t.
“You have no fucking idea.”
His hand traces your thigh, kneading your flesh, fingers digging in with just enough pressure to bruise. You feel how much he needs you in every trembling touch. He cups your ass, squeezing and spreading, and then lets his hand drift lower, fingers ghosting along your slit. You’re soaked—embarrassingly so—and he groans when he feels it, slicking his fingers through you, teasing your entrance with featherlight touches. Your hips buck back, desperate for more, but he holds you firmly in place, taking his time, savoring the way you writhe under him.
“Are you gonna make me beg?” you pant, rutting against his hand.
He presses a kiss to your shoulder blade, voice thick and broken. “I want to hear you say you need me.”
“You already know I do.”
“Say it anyway.” His tongue flicks your earlobe, his words vibrating in your chest.
“I need you, Wooyoung. Please.”
The words tumble out, more desperate than you mean them to, but you don’t care. You want him—need him—so bad it’s physically painful. He lines himself up at your entrance, the heat of his cock a brand against your skin. But he doesn’t push in—not yet. He grinds the tip against your folds, smearing his precum through your wetness, teasing you with shallow thrusts that never quite give you what you want. You sob into the pillow, body arching, entirely at his mercy.
“God, look at you,” he whispers. “You’re so perfect. Fuck, I don’t deserve you.”
“Yes you do.” The words are a gasp, but you mean them. Even after everything, you want to give him this.
You want to give him everything.
He’s shaking, whole body vibrating with the effort of holding back, not just rutting into you like an animal. “Is this okay?” he asks, voice so weighted with emotion it almost makes you cry. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me.”
“I want you,” you say, “I always want you. I want you right now, more than anything.”
He lets out a choked breath, as if you’ve released him from a terrible spell. “Fuck, yes.” He buries his face in the curve of your neck, breath hot and ragged. You feel the tip of his cock press against your entrance, stretching you slowly, inch by inch as he slides in.
The stretch is sweet, burning, perfect. You moan, the sound loud and raw, echoing off the walls of your shared bedroom. He fills you up, deeper than you remember, and it feels like coming home after a long, cold exile. You clench around him, savouring the drag, the friction, the pulse of his heartbeat through the thickness of his cock. He starts to move, slow at first, drawing out each withdrawal and thrust so you feel every centimetre, every ridge and vein. His hands on your waist are trembling, sometimes gripping too hard and then letting go, as if he’s afraid to hurt you, afraid to let go of this moment. You arch your back, pushing yourself up into him, greedy for more.
“Harder,” you urge. “Fuck me harder."
He whimpers, hips stuttering, and then sets a punishing pace, hips snapping forward to drive into you with every ounce of pent up longing he’s been carrying. The mattress creaks, the headboard smacks the wall. He’s so big, so deep, so desperate, and you love it.
“Don’t… fuck– say that shit,” he whines, his voice cracking. “Y’feel so good, so fucking tight.”
You arch back, meeting his thrusts, loving the way he loses control. His need for you is unfiltered, all-consuming, and you drink it like oxygen. He sets a rhythm, fast and merciless, hips slamming into you so hard it feels like a punishment, but you crave it, need it, want him to fuck you so hard you forget the argument and only memorise the feeling of him inside you. The slapping sound of skin on skin is obscene, even over the creaking of the bed and your shared moans, but you don’t care, don’t care if the whole apartment building hears you. Wooyoung is not gentle, not now; he’s desperate, driven by weeks of withheld affection, of loneliness and longing. He covers you, bites your shoulder, fucks you like it’s the last time, every thrust a plea for forgiveness and a pledge of eternity.
He leans more of his weight into you, his hand snaking around to your front, fingers seeking your clit. The first touch is electric—you jerk, stars bursting behind your eyes. He circles your clit with the pad of his finger, fast and hard, no finesse, just pure need to make you cum.
In a cruel twist of fate, his hips slow suddenly—the rhythm of his hips bullying yours breaking. You whimper at the loss, your body clenching around him, so desperate for more. But he pulls out completely, leaving you empty, aching.
“Look at me,” he demands, voice rough with need.
You crane your neck back over your shoulder, cheek still pressed into the sheets, and find him watching you with that dark intensity that makes your breath catch. His cock glistens with your combined wetness, the head swollen and flushed as he drags it slowly up and down your entrance, the angle making you feel every torturous inch of the tease—just enough pressure to feel but not enough to satisfy.
“Please,” you gasp, hips tipping higher.
His lips curl into a wicked smile from somewhere above and behind you. “Not yet.” He circles your clit with his slick tip before sliding back down. Your thighs tremble against the pillow he placed under your hips.
“Spit,” he commands, reaching his palm around to your mouth.
You obey without hesitation, gathering saliva that he uses to coat himself again, the wet sound obscene in the quiet room. He returns to his maddening teasing, the new slickness making his cock glide effortlessly against your swollen flesh.
“Good fucking girl,” he groans, the words punched out between ragged breaths. “Look at you—taking everything I give you.”
You’re beyond words now, reduced to desperate sounds as he continues his exquisite torture. When you can’t stand it anymore, you reach behind your body, guiding him back to where you need him most. He lets you, but only for a moment. With a growl that vibrates through your chest, he pushes your hand away and positions himself again, his eyes locked on to the way your body is so responsive to his. Then he leans down, lips pressing soft and slow into your shoulder, and you feel his breath warm against the curve of your neck
“Princess” he whispers, voice cracking open at the edges, his cock still dragging slowly and torturous against your entrance. “You can forgive me right? Shit…You can forgive your Wooyo right?”
“Yes,” you gasp, hips rolling back into him helplessly. “Yes, yess—fuck, I f-forgive you… Wooyoung, I need you so bad, please!"
Something breaks in his expression—all restraint shattering. He thrusts forward in one powerful motion, burying himself to the hilt with a sound that borders on a sob, hands clutching your hips—his grip bruising but full of desperate love. “God, you feel so good,” he croaks. “I missed this. I missed you. I missed you so fucking much.”
The force of it knocks the wind out of you, the fullness so shocking you can only moan, the sound muffled by the pillow but loud enough for him to hear—maybe for the neighbours to hear too. He doesn’t care. Neither do you.
The words degenerate into a string of curses and pleas, all dignity and composure long abandoned. You’re reduced to this: the shudder of your hips, the filthy slickness on your thighs, the way you beg for him with every inch of your body.
He’s lost to it now, rutting into you with a violence born of weeks—months—of wanting, of regret, of all the shit he’s made you both suffer through in his absence. Every motion is a contradiction, a punishment and an apology, as he fucks you harder than he ever has, hips snapping so fast you barely have time to catch your breath between thrusts. His hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, yanking you back onto him, fisting in your hair, ghosting along your ribs and then down to your clit. His fingers rub you with the same desperate rhythm as his cock, no finesse, just pure, animal drive to make you cum first, to make you remember what you are together.
He doesn’t say a word at first, just grunts and breathes your name into your hair like a prayer. But when you look back at him, head turned over your shoulder, you see his face twisted in something rawer than lust. Love. His eyes are wet. He thrusts in, deeper, grinding the head of his cock against the spot inside you that makes your vision white out at the edges.
“God, I missed you,” he whines, the words hitching on the upstroke. “I missed you, princess, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry—” He laces his apology into every movement, every thrust, trying to convince you with the force of his body how much he means it. “No one else can have you, fuck, never anyone else, not ever, you hear me?” His hips stutter, losing rhythm, and you know he’s close, so close, but he won’t let himself finish until you do.
He snakes his hand around your throat, the gentlest squeeze, just enough to remind you who’s in control. The pressure is perfect; you arch into it, into him, hips rocking back greedily to milk every inch of his cock. He bends over you, mouth against your ear, breath hot and frantic:
“Cum for me, princess. Wanna feel you cum all over me.”
And you do, splintering apart around him, pleasure ripping through you so hard it borders on pain. You scream, you swear, you claw at the sheets, and he fucks you through it, pace relentless, never slowing, never breaking.
He’s shaking above you, groaning your name, his hand still tangled in your hair as he thrusts a few more desperate times and then comes, deep inside you, with a guttural wail. The heat of his release is almost shocking, the way he fills you leaving no doubt that he’s yours, utterly and absolutely. He stays pressed to you, sweat-slicked and trembling, for long, silent seconds, his cock twitching with aftershocks, his breath turning softer, steadier. You can feel his heart thumping against your back, the wild rhythm slowly synchronizing with yours.
He never lets you go, not even as he softens inside you. He just wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face in your neck. You can’t move, can barely breathe, but the only thing you want is to stay like this forever—his weight, his warmth, his love, every bit of him pressed into you until you forget where you end and he begins. He’s the apology and the forgiveness, the punishment and the reward, and you take every last bit of him, all over again, until neither of you has anything left to give.
You’re both gasping, boneless, ruined, but it’s the best kind of ruined—like you’ve been put back together again, better than you were before. He kisses your neck, soft now, lazy, like he can’t help himself, and when he finally pulls out, both of you whimper at the loss.
You shift, rolling onto your side, facing him. His face is damp—sweat, tears, who even knows—but his eyes are clear and bright as he looks at you. He traces your jaw with a shaking finger.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he breathes, voice hoarse, “and I’m never letting you go, you got that?”
You laugh, delirious, and pull him close, your lips finding his in a kiss that’s slow and deep, the kind that says I forgive you, I want you, I’ll never be done with you. He sighs into it, like he’s waited a lifetime for this, like he’s never tasted anything sweeter.
And then his hand is between your legs again, gentle now, and you realize he’s not done with you yet. Not even close.
But you weren’t done with him either.
“Wait,” you mumble against his lips, pulling back just enough to see his eyes. “Let me watch you.”
Wooyoung’s brow furrows, a question forming in his gaze. You slide your hand down his chest, over the damp skin, until your fingers wrap around his still-sensitive cock. He hisses, body tensing at your touch.
“Wanna see you touch yourself,” you clarify, your voice dropping to a husky whisper.
Understanding dawns across his face, followed by a slow, wicked smile that makes your stomach flip. “Yeah?” he asks, already shifting position. “You want to watch me jerk off, baby? Naughty girl.”
You nod, your own hand moving between your legs as you settle back against the pillows. Wooyoung sits up, kneeling between your spread thighs, his eyes never leaving yours as he wraps his hand around his length. He’s already hardening again, his cock responding eagerly to your gaze. You watch, transfixed, as his fingers begin to move, a slow, deliberate stroke from base to tip that makes his breath catch.
“Fuck,” he groans, his head falling back slightly. “Play with yourself too, princess.”
You’re touching yourself now, circling your clit with teasing pressure, your other hand squeezing your breast. The sight of him pleasuring himself while watching you is intoxicating—his muscles flexing, his lips parted, his eyes dark with desire.
“Show me…shit," you urge, your voice barely audible. “Show me what you think about when I’m not around to suck you dry.”
He moans, his pace quickening. “I’m always thinking about you, ” he admits, his voice rough. “About your pretty mouth, your perfect tits, the way you feel when I’m inside you.” His hand moves faster now, his breathing growing ragged. “I think about making you cum—fuck, l-love thinking about watching you fall apart because of me.”
Your fingers move faster, matching his rhythm, the sight of him pleasuring himself pushing you closer to the edge. The room fills with the wet sounds of your mutual pleasure, your soft gasps mingling with his deeper groans.
“I’m c–close,” you pant, your hips rising off the bed. “Baby, I’m so fucking close.”
“Me too,” he gasps, his hand moving furiously over his cock. “God, the way you’re touching yourself—fuck, I can’t—"
“So fucking good… haah—” you whimper. “Cum with me.”
His eyes lock with yours, and you see the same desperation, the same need reflected back at you. Your fingers move faster, your thumb circling your clit with just the right pressure as you watch his hand fly over his length, his body tense with impending release.
“Wooyoung,” you cry out as the first wave hits you, your body arching off the bed.
“Oh god, yes you’re so hot fuuuck,” he groans, his release spurting hot across your stomach as he watches you come undone.
You’re both panting, chests heaving as sweat trickles down your bodies and Wooyoung’s cum glistens wet and hot across your stomach—but even as you come down, the air between you only grows thicker. His eyes linger on your face, hungry and soft all at once, and you know before he says a word that he isn’t finished with you yet. He swipes his thumb through his mess, smearing it across your skin, and then lifts his hand to your lips.
“Open,” he murmurs, voice already roughening around the edges, and you open obediently, tongue laving over his skin, savouring the salt and the faint sweetness of him.
He watches you, transfixed, and then the hunger snaps back into focus. With a sudden, fluid motion, he grabs you by the hips and guides you onto your back, landing you with a gasp and a bounce that sends aftershocks through your spent body. For a second you just lie there, limp and loose-limbed, but Wooyoung is on you before you have time to recover—his mouth capturing yours in a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue and desperate, greedy possession. He devours you, biting your lower lip so hard you nearly yelp, but then he’s soothing the sting with a velvet-soft lick, fingers already roaming, cupping your jaw, winding into your hair, squeezing the back of your neck until you’re gasping into his mouth.
“Last one baby,” he rasps, voice vibrating right against your teeth. “Need to breed your pretty pussy one last time.”
He’s already sliding down your body, trailing open-mouthed kisses over every inch of skin—your throat, your collarbones, the peak of your tits. He bites down gently on your nipple, then flicks it with his tongue, the sensation sharp and electric and so fucking precise. He lavishes both breasts with attention, sucking bruises in places only he will see, then lets his tongue trace a hot, wet path down your torso.
He stops at your belly, swiping a finger through the sticky mess on your skin. “Look at you,” he says, voice thick with pride and awe, and you feel your cheeks flame even as you spread your legs wider for him.
He dips his head, lapping at where his cum has pooled in your navel, and you shiver at the lewdness of it, the way he worships every part of you. When his mouth finally moves lower, you’re already shaking with anticipation, your core clenching tight, desperate for more even though you should be wrung out.
He dives between your thighs, licks a stripe from your entrance all the way up to your clit, and you nearly come off the bed from the shock of it. He laughs, low and dark, and buries his face in your cunt, eating you like a man starved. His tongue is everywhere. Circling your clit, plunging inside you, mixing slick and spit and the faint metallic taste of his own release. You fist your hands in his hair, grinding your hips against his mouth, shameless in the way you beg, “More, more... please, fuck, don’t stop—” and he doesn’t.
He works you with ruthless precision, two fingers thrusting deep while his tongue flicks rapid-fire at your clit. You feel the pressure build, so much faster than before, your legs trembling, your thighs clamping tight around his head. He holds you open, arms braced under your knees, keeping you spread and helpless as he brings you right to the brink and then eases off, just enough to drive you insane. He does it again, and again, pulling you apart, making you plead for it.
“Woo—” you whimper, your voice thin and shaky. “Please, please—”
He lifts his head, lips glistening, and you see the wild satisfaction in his eyes. “You’re so fucking pretty when you beg,” he says, and the praise sends another rush of heat through your veins.
“Please,” you say again, and this time he relents, sucking your clit into his mouth and moaning around it. The vibration hits you like a lightning strike and you come hard, arching your back, crying out his name so loud you know it will echo in your ears for days. He keeps going, licking you through it, not stopping until you’re sobbing with oversensitivity and shoving at his head to make it end.
He crawls up your body, cock already hard again as he rubs it against your thigh, your stomach, the sticky aftermath on your skin. He lines himself up at your entrance, and you’re so wet, so open for him, that he slides in with barely any resistance. The stretch still hurts—just a little—and he winces with you, kissing your cheek, your ear, whispering, “Shh, you can take it. You’re so good for me.”
You rake your nails down his back, desperate to pull him deeper, and he obliges, ramming into you with a force that makes the whole bed frame rattle. This time, he doesn’t pace himself—he fucks you with abandon, every thrust a fierce apology, a vow, a plea for forgiveness. “Pretty cunt was made for me, wasn't it baby?" he growls, the words muffled against your skin, and you believe him, every time.
He shifts your legs, bends you almost in half putting you into a mean mating press, and the new angle has him thrusting right against your g-spot. You claw helplessly at his arms, nails digging crescent moons into his biceps, and he just grins, sweat beading at his hairline, loving every second of your unravelling.
"'M not going to last... I'm g'na cum holy fuck Wooyoung," you moan out, feeling yourself edging closer to your own climax.
You feel him getting close—his rhythm falters, his hips jerk, his breath comes in ragged gasps. He slides a hand between your bodies, thumb circling your clit, determined to take you with him.
“Oh fuck—Cum f’me princess, make me proud.”
And you do, the orgasm ripping through you so violently that black spots dance at the edge of your vision. You scream, you sob, you babble his name like a prayer, and he follows, spilling inside you with a strangled cry. He shoves in deep, holds you there, and then collapses, pinning you to the mattress with the full weight of his body.
You lie like that for a long, breathless moment, your bodies trembling and tangled, sweat sticking you together, his cock still throbbing inside you as he pants in your ear. For a second you think he’s fallen asleep, but then he props himself up on one elbow and looks down at you, eyes shining, lips parted as if he might start crying all over again.
He rolls you onto your side, still joined, and wraps an arm around your waist, spooning you so tight you can barely move. You reach back and stroke his hair, feeling the way his whole body melts into your touch—the tension draining from his muscles, the way his breath evens out. The world feels impossibly far away, like it’s just the two of you floating in a bed-shaped universe, nothing but heartbeats and skin and the mess you’ve made of each other.
The room falls quiet, your breathing gradually slowing in tandem. Wooyoung’s arm tightens around you, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the nape of your neck. “Don’t move,” he whispers, his voice hoarse from use. “I’ll be right back.”
He pulls out gently, and you whimper at the loss, feeling suddenly empty. But he’s already sliding from the bed, his naked body glistening with sweat as he pads to the bathroom. You hear water running, and then he returns with a warm washcloth in his hand.
“Let's get you cleaned up yeah?” he says, his eyes soft as he kneels beside you.
His touch is reverent as he cleans between your thighs, wiping away the evidence of your passion with gentle, circular motions. The warm cloth feels heavenly against your sensitive skin, and you sigh, your body relaxing into his care.
“Better?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
You nod, too blissed-out to form words. He disappears again, returning with a glass of water that he holds to your lips. You drink greedily, not realizing how parched you were until the cool liquid slides down your throat.
“More?” he asks, and you shake your head.
Wooyoung sets the glass aside and moves to his dresser, pulling open the bottom drawer. He rummages through it for a moment before pulling out a faded blue t-shirt that you recognize immediately. It’s one of his oldest, the fabric soft from countless washes, the university logo barely visible anymore.
“Arms up,” he murmurs, and you comply, letting him slip the oversized shirt over your head. It falls to mid-thigh, enveloping you in his scent—that familiar mix of his cologne and something uniquely him that makes your chest ache with tenderness. He adjusts the collar, his fingers lingering at your neck, before pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“Perfect,” he whispers, his eyes warm as they take you in.
You watch as he pulls on a pair of boxers and a simple white t-shirt, his movements languid, unhurried. There’s something intimate about watching him dress—the way his muscles flex beneath his skin, the casual grace of his movements. He catches you looking and says nothing, just gives you a small, tired smile before he climbs back into bed, pulling you against him. His fingers begin to trace lazy patterns on your arm, up and down, the touch so light it makes you shiver.
“I love you,” he murmurs into your hair. “I hope you know that I adore you so much.”
You turn in his arms to face him, finding his eyes in the dim light of the bedroom. There’s something raw and vulnerable in his gaze that makes your heart ache.
“I know,” you say, reaching up to brush his hair from his forehead. “I love you too.”
He catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. “I’m going to do better. I promise.”
“I believe you, I know you will,” you whisper, and you do.
He pulls you closer, your bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining. The bracelet he gave you catches the light, the tiny compass charm glinting. He brings your wrist up to his lips and places a kiss on the charm, a silent reminder for you that’ll he’ll always be your north. No matter where you are, he’ll always be there for you.
“I’ve got you,” he coos, his voice dropping to that impossibly soft register he only uses in these moments. “I’m here, I'm not going anywhere.”
You hum in acknowledgment, too far gone for words. He softly chuckles at your sleepiness. His hand resumes its journey down your spine, each vertebra a landmark he maps with infinite patience. Another yawn overtakes you, your eyes watering at the corners. Wooyoung brushes away the tears with his thumb, his touch reverent.
“My beautiful girl,” he whispers. “My whole heart.”
A melody begins to form beneath his breath—something soft and wordless that you recognize from nights when sleep wouldn’t come, when anxiety gripped your throat. His chest vibrates with the sound, a lullaby composed of nothing but his love for you. Your consciousness begins to drift, the edges of your thoughts blurring like watercolours on wet paper. The scent of him—clean sweat and that cologne he’s worn since the day you met—wraps around you like a second blanket.
“I love you,” he whispers, his lips brushing your temple. “Happy anniversary, my love. I promise to make every one from now on better than the last.”
The words follow you down into darkness, a tether to the world you’re leaving behind. The future for the both of you still holds challenges—his career won’t become less demanding overnight, and you’ll both need to work to maintain the balance you’re rebuilding. But as Wooyoung’s arms tighten around you, as you feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, you know you’ll face those challenges together.
Because love isn’t about never making mistakes. It’s about having the courage to admit when you’re wrong, and the strength to keep trying, even when it’s hard. And as the morning light spills across the tangled sheets and your intertwined bodies, you know that’s exactly what you have—not a perfect love, but a real one.
ಠ_ಠwarning/content: CONTAINS BLOOD AND NON-CON/DUB-CON. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME. not proof read, stalker yeosang x fem reader, murder of readers one-night-stand done off screen but we see the body, bloody knife held to reader, blood consumption, hair pulling both ways, slapping + lip biting so hard it draws blood (sang receiving), unprotected p->v, slut shaming, reader called: slut, stupid, bitch, sick in the head. with all of that said, reader is into it. that doesn't make it any better, it doesn't make it healthy or sane. this is purely fiction and should never be interpreted as okay in real life- because it's not even okay here. but that doesn't mean we can't explore dark and dangerous topics and fantasies through fiction.
♫soundtrack♫
♡masterlist + navigation !♡
THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING. DEAD DOVE.
HATE WILL BE BLOCKED.
Blood doesn't make you queasy. Never has.
But, then again, you've never been in a situation where it really, really should.
One where it was splattered up the walls of your fling's apartment and pooling on his floor next to his unmoving body. One where it's staining the face of the man above him — the man looking right at you with a knife gripped in his gloved hand so tightly that it shakes.
But you're not queasy even still, as the man stands slowly from straddling the now dead body; eyes locked on you. Bloodshot like he'd been crying and his pupils wide with the adrenaline that shakes the blade in his clenched fist.
You recognize him, of course.
"Yeosang, right?"
He pauses, only a step closer to you.
He's been stalking you for months. Following you around like a creep. Breaking into your room. Stealing things. Taking pictures when he thinks you aren't aware.
"You should be more careful." Your voice only carries a small tremble, "it wasn't that hard to find you online."
The corner of his lips twitches up, "how did you do that?" He asks with another step towards you.
You stand your ground. Like an idiot. "You were in the background of a selfie I took a few weeks a-"
The words are choked out of you, replaced by a strangled gasp of air as his free hand pins you to the wall; tight around your throat.
"You stupid slut."
If he wasn't already half-hard from the rush of adrenaline, the familiar feeling of taking a life, he certainly is now; with that star-struck, dumbfounded look in your eyes. You don't even have the wits about you to fight him as he shoves a knee between your thighs, pressing up against your clothed heat.
Your wide eyes stare into his as he squints, trying to worm his way into your mind through eye contact alone. Your gaze slowly drifts to the body across the room — and his hand tightens around your neck.
It's then that your body decides to give a bit of fight, even though you still find yourself unnaturally calm in the face of your stalker. Your hands come up, nails digging into his wrist, gasping for air. He uses his grip to knock your head into the wall — a ringing in your ears despite the gut feeling that he was actually going easy on you.
His hand drifts to the collar of your shirt, fisting it up tightly, jaw locked tight.
"I di-" You stutter, pupils shaky as they come back to him, "I didn't think you'd kill him..."
He takes a moment, watching you. "I knew it." He chuckles, dragging the bloody knife across your exposed thigh. "I knew you were sick in the head... You did this to get my attention."
Instead of a firm answer, you just repeat yourself. "I didn't think you'd... kill him."
"Why would I let him live after he fucked my girl? Hm?" The tilt of his head feels menacing, so why do you feel yourself growing wet?
"No answer?" He hums again, "that's okay, keep your mouth shut actually. It's my turn to fuck you and if you scream too loud, someone might come knocking before we get to finish."
"What-"
He yanks you from the wall by your shirt, making you stumble. The tip of the knife presses into your back; just enough to feel it.
"Move. To the bed, now."
Your body must know what it's doing. Because you certainly don't as you start following his instructions smoothly, one foot infront of the other.
You swallow past the lump in your throat and open up your bedroom door, asking quietly, "are you going to kill me?"
"Kill you? Come on, now. You aren't that stupid."
"Then what d-"
"Show me how that bastard fucked you." He cuts you off with a shove towards the bed, "go on. Take your clothes off like the slut you are. Let me see."
You ask your body why it's listening to him so fluidly, without any hesitation. And it just responds by making you slide your pajama shorts and panties down your legs.
The blood on the knife makes your gut clench. "Don't hurt me."
"Not unless you try to run away."
It's probably not very much good to ask your stalker who holds a bloody knife, "promise?"
He probably doesn't mean it when he says, "sure. Promise."
Peeling your shirt away, it's only now — naked and defenseless — that your heart starts a new rhythm. Quicker by a beat and warm in your chest, blossoming up your neck and face as he stares unabashedly while you lower yourself onto the bed.
"Is that how he fucked you?"
You take a moment of pause to reflect on what the fuck is happening, but your body doesn't. Why doesn't it? Why are you not on the same page? Why is it spreading its legs wide and exposing your cunt?
"This." You say, quiet.
"I'll make sure to do it better. You won't remember anything other than my cock when we're done here. And if you do," he grins while dropping the knife of the bedside table before pulling his hoodie and shirt off in one go, "then we aren't done."
Your heart is thudding faster and faster as he sheds the rest of his clothes and climbs ontop of you. "Wait-"
"No," he says simply, guiding his hard length toward your wet hole. "I've waited long enough."
And while you're a good bit wet, and you had sex just hours before, it's no where near adequate preparation for Yeosang. Your stalker is well endowed to say the least.
Just the tip of it pushing inside of you makes you whine, face scrunching up and hands instinctively going to press flat on his lower stomach and slow him down.
"C'mon now," he says, shockingly soft, "be a big girl and take it. I know your slutty little hole wants it, right?"
You can't answer, biting your tongue to distract yourself from the pain as he forces himself in at a snails pace.
"Right?" He shoves in a few agonizing inches in at once, making you yelp; legs trying to close around him and only succeeding in wrapping around him, legs tangled together as you fidget.
"Please- hurts-"
"Awe," it's mock sympathy and you know it, but it still makes you feel your heart beat in your stretched cunt as he coos, "you'll be okay~"
A small mercy, really, as he reaches between you and slowly finds your clit, circling it with a steady rhythm as he bottoms out in another quick thrust that knocks the air from your lungs and leaves you screaming silently for a moment.
Your hands find their way up to his hair, holding onto the roots tightly. Eyes clenched shut, you can't see the ecstatic look in his dark gaze as he says, "play nice and I'll be gentle."
Whatever words that you were going to utter fall flat against your tongue as his lips press onto yours.
It feels gentle, almost. Affectionate. Like the core of his obsession is leaking through to give you a taste.
Your mouth opens up as his tongue grazes against it and the core is heating up, the obsession burning from the inside out; the kiss growing rougher and deeper as he cups your jaw in his hands and moves against you.
"Stupid slut," he moans breathlessly into you, "thought you'd get away with letting someone else fuck you-"
It's his turn to be cut off, your teeth trapping his lower lip and making him hiss; his fingers tightening around your jaw until you open your mouth. The metallic liquid coats your taste buds, your breathing heavy as he pulls away and glares down at you. "Don't call me that- ah!"
His hand is back around your throat, your moans and yelps coming out garbled as he thrusts harder, faster. "What did I say, hm? Play. Nice." He emphasizes his words with particularly targeted thrusts, "that's all you had to do."
Could you do a non-idol roommate smut fic with Scoups and San? Maybe have y/n see them working out in their home gym, masturbate in her room when she thinks they're not home, and have them confront her about it later? I dunno, just something that popped into my head
Two baddies (Choi) one Porsche
Pairing: San x reader x seungcheol
Modern non-idol au, roomates au, smut
Wc:~3.5k
Warnings: threesome mmf, voyeurism, masturbation after spying on them working out, getting caught, oral (m and f receiving), creampie, multiple orgasms, polyamorous relationship, embarassment
A/N: i loooooove this! I love the plot and i loved writing it !
You pushed open the front door of the apartment with a tired sigh, the strap of your work bag sliding down your shoulder. It was barely past 5 PM, much earlier than your usual 7 or 8 o’clock return, but the meeting had been canceled last minute and you weren’t about to complain about a rare free evening. The apartment was quiet at first glance, the living room lights dimmed, but a low, rhythmic bass pulsed from somewhere deeper inside. Then you heard it: the unmistakable metallic clang of weights, followed by a deep grunt of effort.
Your heart skipped. San and Seungcheol were supposed to be at the gym downtown tonight. That’s what they’d texted in the group chat this morning. "Heading out for legs and back, don’t wait up." Yet the sounds were clearly coming from the spare room you three had converted into a home gym six months ago.
Curiosity tugged at you stronger than exhaustion. You kicked off your heels by the door, leaving them in a small heap and padded silently down the hallway in your stockings. The gym door was ajar, just a few inches, enough for a slice of warm light and the scent of sweat to escape. You shouldn’t peek. You knew you shouldn’t. But the pull was magnetic.
You stopped just outside, pressing your back to the wall and tilted your head to look through the gap.
The sight hit you like a physical force. San hung from the pull-up bar, back facing you, muscles rippling under golden skin as he lifted his entire body with controlled power. His black workout shorts rode low on his hips, revealing the deep dimples at the base of his spine and the sculpted curve of his ass. Every rep made his lats flare wide, traps and deltoids bunching into sharp definition. Sweat traced glistening paths down his spine, catching the light. When he lowered himself, you could see the way his biceps and forearms corded, veins prominent from the pump.
A few feet away, Seungcheol lay on the bench press, unracking the bar with a low exhale. His chest and shoulders were massive, stretching the limits of his already tight skin. The gray tank top he wore was soaked through, clinging to every ridge of his abs as he pressed the heavy weight up. His thighs, thick and powerful in black compression shorts, planted firmly on the floor for stability. Each press came with a deep, guttural sound that vibrated straight through your core.
They were beautiful. Lethally so.
You’d lived with them for over a year now, three roommates who somehow made cohabitation feel effortless. San, with his playful energy and mischievous smiles, always teasing you about your coffee addiction. Seungcheol, the steady, protective type, who made sure the bills were paid on time and cooked protein-heavy dinners that somehow always included your favorites. You’d crushed on them individually in secret, then together in guilty fantasies you never dared voice. But seeing them like this: raw, primal, bodies honed by hours of discipline, ignited something fierce and immediate.
Heat bloomed low in your belly. Your thighs pressed together instinctively as you watched San drop from the bar and shake out his arms, chest heaving. He turned slightly, giving you a profile view of his abs contracting with each breath. Seungcheol sat up on the bench, wiping his face with the hem of his tank before peeling it off entirely, revealing miles of smooth, sweat-slicked muscle.
You bit your lip hard. Your nipples tightened against the lace of your bra and a slick warmth gathered between your legs. This was dangerous. You needed to back away, go to your room, pretend you’d seen nothing. But your feet stayed rooted, eyes devouring every detail: the way San’s hand casually adjusted himself in his shorts, the flex of Seungcheol’s biceps as he reached for his water bottle, the low conversation they shared about increasing weights next set.
San laughed at something Seungcheol said, the sound rich and carefree and it sent another pulse of arousal through you. You imagined those hands on your skin, those voices murmuring your name in darker tones.
A soft, involuntary sound escaped your throat. You froze. Neither man looked toward the door. The music, something heavy with bass, probably covered it. Still, panic and need warred inside you. You backed away slowly, heart hammering and slipped into your bedroom at the end of the hall. The door clicked shut behind you. You locked it with trembling fingers.
The room felt too warm. You leaned against the door for a moment, eyes closed, trying to steady your breathing. It didn’t work. The images were burned behind your eyelids: San’s back, Seungcheol’s chest, the sheen of sweat, the raw power. Your hand drifted down before you could stop it, pressing over your skirt against the ache between your thighs.
"Fuck" you whispered.
You kicked off your stockings and skirt, leaving them pooled on the floor. Your blouse followed, then your bra. Clad only in damp panties, you climbed onto your bed and lay back against the pillows. The apartment’s sounds were muffled here, but you could still faintly hear the music and occasional clank. They were still working out. They wouldn’t be done for a while. You were safe.
Your hand slipped beneath the waistband of your panties. You were soaked already, fingers gliding easily over your swollen clit. A sharp gasp left you as you circled it slowly at first, teasing. In your mind, it wasn’t your hand.
It was San’s.
You pictured him fresh from the pull-up bar, kneeling between your spread thighs, sweat still dripping from his hair onto your stomach as his skilled fingers worked you open. "Been thinking about this, haven’t you?" his voice would rumble, dark and teasing like when he joked around the kitchen island. Two thick fingers would push inside you while his thumb pressed perfect circles on your clit.
Your own fingers mimicked the fantasy, dipping lower to slide one, then two inside your aching pussy. You moaned softly, hips rolling up to meet your hand.
Seungcheol appeared in the daydream next, standing behind San, watching with that intense gaze of his. He’d grip San’s shoulder, then reach for you, large palm covering your breast, pinching your nipple just hard enough to make you cry out. "So pretty when you’re desperate" he’d murmur, voice low and commanding, the same tone he used when organizing their workout schedules or settling apartment disputes.
You added a third finger, stretching yourself, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet room. Your other hand moved to your chest, rolling a stiff nipple between thumb and forefinger. Pleasure coiled tighter in your core. You imagined them both shirtless still, bodies pressed close, taking turns tasting you. San’s tongue replacing your fingers: eager, almost playful, licking broad stripes before sucking your clit between his lips. Seungcheol kissing you deeply, swallowing your moans while his hand guided San’s head.
"Oh god…" The words slipped out louder than intended. You turned your face into the pillow to muffle the next moan as you pumped your fingers faster, curling them against that sensitive spot inside.
The fantasy shifted. Now Seungcheol was between your legs, his massive shoulders holding your thighs apart while San knelt beside you, feeding his cock past your lips. You’d seen the outline of them both through their shorts enough times to imagine accurately: thick, heavy, San slightly longer with a slight upward curve, Seungcheol girthy enough to make your jaw ache. You sucked greedily in the daydream, hollowing your cheeks while Seungcheol fucked you with deep, powerful strokes that matched his bench press rhythm.
Your hips bucked off the bed. The coil wound impossibly tight. Sweat beaded on your own skin now, mirroring theirs. You rubbed your clit frantically with the heel of your hand while your fingers thrust deep.
"Come for us" imaginary San whispered against your ear.
That did it.
The orgasm slammed into you hard. Your walls clenched rhythmically around your fingers, thighs trembling violently. A broken cry tore from your throat, muffled by the pillow as wave after wave crashed over you. You kept rubbing through it, drawing it out until it bordered on too much, vision whiting out for a few blissful seconds.
You lay there afterward, chest heaving, fingers still buried inside your pulsing heat. A lazy, satisfied smile curved your lips. The guilt was there, faint but present: you’d just gotten off hard to your roommates, but the relief outweighed it. They’d never know. They were still in the gym, probably finishing up their sets, completely oblivious.
Or so you thought.
Unbeknownst to you, the music had stopped a minute earlier. The gym door had been left wider than you realized when you first peeked. And the large mirror on the opposite wall had given both men a perfect, unobstructed view of you hurrying down the hall, flushed and distracted, right after they’d spotted your reflection watching them.
They hadn’t followed immediately. They’d finished their workout in charged silence, exchanging heavy looks but saying little. The air between them crackled with new possibility.
In your room, you finally withdrew your hand, and reached for your phone to check the time. Still early. Plenty of time to shower and act normal.
The living room lights were dimmed to a warm amber glow when you finally emerged from your room, freshly showered and dressed in an oversized hoodie and soft shorts. Your hair was still slightly damp and you’d tried to compose yourself: neutral expression, casual demeanor, as if you hadn’t spent the better part of an hour replaying the image of your shirtless roommates while fingering yourself to completion. The apartment smelled faintly of the stir-fry Seungcheol had apparently thrown together while you were hiding. Music played low from the television: some R&B playlist they both liked.
San and Seungcheol were already on the sectional couch. San lounged in the corner, legs spread comfortably in gray sweatpants and a black tank top that did little to hide the definition of his shoulders. Seungcheol sat more upright on the other end, wearing a loose white tee and black shorts, one arm draped along the back of the couch. They both looked relaxed. Too relaxed.
You hesitated in the doorway. Something in the air felt charged, heavier than usual.
"Hey" you said, aiming for normalcy as you padded toward the kitchen island. "Smells good. You guys ate already?"
Seungcheol’s deep voice answered first. "Saved you a plate. It’s in the microwave." His tone was calm, almost too even. "Come sit with us first."
Your stomach flipped. You glanced at San. He was watching you with those sharp, cat-like eyes, the corner of his mouth curved in a small, knowing smile. Not his usual playful one. This one carried heat.
You grabbed a water bottle instead of the food and slowly walked over, perching on the middle cushion between them. The couch felt smaller than usual. Their body heat radiated toward you: San’s leg brushing yours, Seungcheol’s arm still stretched behind your shoulders.
For a minute, the three of you watched the muted music video on screen. The silence stretched.
Then Seungcheol spoke. "We saw you watching us earlier."
Your heart slammed against your ribs. The water bottle nearly slipped from your fingers. You turned your head toward him, eyes wide. "What?"
San shifted closer on your other side, his knee pressing firmly against yours now. "In the gym. Door was open. You stood there for a while." His voice was low, almost a purr. "Could see how you were looking at us."
Heat flooded your face instantly. Embarrassment burned down your neck and across your chest. You opened your mouth to deny it, but the words died when Seungcheol continued. "And then we saw you go to your room." He leaned in slightly, his presence overwhelming. "Heard you too. The walls aren’t that thick, baby."
Baby. The pet name landed like a spark on dry tinder. You wanted the couch to swallow you whole. Your mind raced through excuses, maybe they were mistaken, maybe it was something else, but the evidence was damning. You’d been loud. You’d been desperate.
"I… I didn’t know you were home" you whispered, voice cracking. "You said you were going to the gym downtown. I came back early an..."
San’s hand landed gently on your thigh, just above your knee. Warm. Steady. "We changed plans. Decided to use the home gym instead." His thumb stroked a slow circle on your skin. "Didn’t expect to catch you staring like that. Like you wanted to eat us alive."
You squeezed your eyes shut, mortified. "God, this is so embarrassing. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have...I’ll just…"
Seungcheol’s fingers brushed the back of your neck, sliding into your damp hair. He turned your face toward him. His gaze was dark, intense, but not angry. Hungry. "Don’t apologize. We’re not mad."
San’s hand slid higher up your thigh, slipping under the hem of your shorts just an inch. "We’ve been wanting you for months, you know. Both of us. Tried to keep it respectful since we’re roommates, but fuck… hearing you moan like that?" He exhaled sharply. "Nearly lost it right there in the gym."
Your breath hitched. This couldn’t be real. You’d fantasized about this exact scenario earlier today and now it was unfolding in the living room. "You… both of you?"
Seungcheol nodded, his thumb tracing your jaw. "Both of us. We’ve talked about it. A lot." He leaned in until his lips were inches from yours. "Question is… do you want this? Want us?"
The air felt electric. Your pulse thundered in your ears. Every rational thought screamed that this could complicate the roommate dynamic beyond repair. But your body, still sensitive from your earlier orgasm, still aching for more, overruled everything.
"Yes" you breathed. "I want you. Both of you."
The words barely left your lips before Seungcheol closed the distance. His kiss was firm, commanding, lips warm and sure as they moved against yours. One large hand cupped your cheek while the other stayed tangled in your hair. He tasted like the mint from his post-workout drink and when his tongue swept into your mouth you moaned softly, melting into him.
San didn’t stay idle. His mouth found the side of your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin while his hand boldly slid higher, fingers brushing the edge of your panties. "So fucking pretty" he murmured against your pulse point. "Been thinking about this for so long."
Seungcheol pulled back just enough to let you catch your breath, then San turned your face toward him and claimed your mouth in a deeper, more playful kiss. His tongue teased yours, coaxing you into a rhythm that made your toes curl. While he kissed you, Seungcheol’s hands roamed, sliding under your hoodie, palms broad and warm against your bare waist, thumbs stroking the undersides of your breasts.
You whimpered into San’s mouth when Seungcheol pinched one nipple lightly.
"Bedroom?" San asked against your lips, voice husky.
"Too far" Seungcheol answered. "Couch is fine tonight."
They moved with practiced coordination, as if they’d imagined this together many times. Your hoodie came off first, tossed aside. San peeled your shorts and panties down your legs in one smooth motion. Suddenly you were naked between them, skin flushed and breathing ragged. They drank in the sight of you, San’s eyes dark with lust, Seungcheol’s jaw clenched with restraint.
"Beautiful" Seungcheol murmured. He guided you to lie back against the cushions, spreading your thighs. San settled between them first, pressing open-mouthed kisses up your inner thigh. When his tongue dragged slowly through your folds, you cried out, back arching.
"Already so wet" San groaned, the vibration sending sparks up your spine. He licked you with enthusiasm: broad, flat strokes followed by focused flicks on your clit, then dipping inside you. Two fingers joined soon after, curling perfectly while he sucked your clit between his lips.
Seungcheol knelt beside your head, stroking your hair. He pulled his shirt off, revealing the powerful chest you’d watched earlier. "Open for me, baby." You turned your head eagerly, taking his thick cock into your mouth as he freed it from his shorts. He was heavy on your tongue, stretching your lips. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him deeper while San devoured your pussy.
The dual sensations were overwhelming. Pleasure built fast: San’s talented mouth and fingers driving you toward the edge while Seungcheol fucked your mouth in shallow, controlled thrusts, praising you in that low, steady voice.
"That’s it… taking us so well. Look at you, our pretty roommate."
You came hard the first time with San’s fingers buried deep and his tongue relentless on your clit. Your moan vibrated around Seungcheol’s cock, making him groan and thrust a little deeper.
They switched after that. Seungcheol took his turn between your legs, his shoulders holding your thighs wide as he ate you with more intensity: long, deep licks and powerful suction that had you shaking. San knelt by your head, feeding you his cock. He was longer, curved and he tangled his fingers in your hair, moaning your name as you sucked him eagerly.
"Fuck, your mouth feels even better than I imagined" San panted.
You lost track of how many times they brought you to the edge. They were patient, thorough, worshipping every inch of you with hands and mouths until you were a trembling, oversensitive mess, begging incoherently.
"Please… need you inside me" you finally gasped when Seungcheol pulled back from your clit, lips shiny with your arousal.
They didn’t make you wait long.
San sat on the couch and pulled you onto his lap, facing away from him. You sank down onto his cock slowly, moaning loudly at the stretch. He was thick enough to make your eyes water in the best way. Once fully seated, he wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed your shoulder. "Good girl. Feel so perfect."
Seungcheol stood in front of you, stroking himself as he watched you ride San for a minute. Then he stepped closer, guiding his cock back into your mouth. You were completely filled: San thrusting up into your pussy while Seungcheol fucked your throat in sync. Their hands roamed everywhere: San’s fingers on your clit, Seungcheol’s on your breasts, both of them groaning praises and filthy words that made your head spin.
The pace quickened. San’s hips snapped up harder, hitting that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. Seungcheol’s hand tightened gently in your hair. The sounds in the living room were obscene: skin slapping skin, wet slurping, your muffled moans, their deep grunts.
You came again like that, clamped around San’s cock while Seungcheol was buried in your mouth. The orgasm tore through you violently, vision blurring, body shaking between them.
San followed soon after, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a broken moan of your name. Seungcheol pulled out of your mouth and stroked himself fast, painting your chest and breasts with hot streaks of cum moments later.
For a long minute, the only sounds were heavy breathing and the low music still playing from the TV.
They took care of you immediately. San lifted you gently off his lap and laid you down on the couch while Seungcheol disappeared to the bathroom, returning with warm, damp towels. They cleaned you thoroughly: soft touches, gentle kisses on your thighs, your stomach, your forehead. San fetched you a fresh hoodie (his own, smelling like him) while Seungcheol brought water and a small plate of the stir-fry.
You ended up curled between them again, this time under a soft blanket. San’s arm was around your waist, Seungcheol’s fingers tracing lazy patterns on your thigh.
"So…" you started, voice hoarse but content. "Roommates with benefits?"
Seungcheol chuckled, deep and warm. "More than that. We’ve wanted this for a long time. Not just sex."
San nuzzled into your neck. "We’re yours. You’re ours. We’ll figure out the details tomorrow. Tonight, just stay here with us."
You smiled, exhaustion and satisfaction settling deep in your bones. As their warmth surrounded you and the TV flickered softly, you let yourself relax completely between the two men who had just ruined you for anyone else. The new dynamic as roommates was definitely, blissfully, changed for good.
Bonus: me when i read that request with that crossover sent from heaven
— DILF!hongjoong x fem!reader in which you thought you already had the best relationship you could ever have. until one day you found you boyfroend fucking another girl on his bed, and so what could be a better and appropriate revenge than to fuck his very handsome father.
content warnings: this fic includes detailed nsfw scenes that may be too much for some readers. includes penetrative sex, mention of cheating, dilf!hongjoong, 20 years age gap, fingering, oral (f!receiving), multiple orgasm, video taping, and other scenes that might be uncomfortable for some readers. please consume what you can, and separate fiction from reality. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
a/n: HI SO YEAH HAPPY 2K FOLLOWERS AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME. So as a gift to everyone, here's a dilf!joong to all my fellow atiny's in my followers list. I hope you guys enjoy this delicious fic. ACK. I LOVE YOU ALL. <333
word count: 9k words
You were a catch. A fucking catch.
Everyone on campus knew it. Jaehyun, the guy you'd been dating for the past few months, was constantly called the luckiest man alive. You heard the whispers in the hallways, the envious glances in the cafeteria, the not-so-subtle comments from his friends. But you never really paid much attention to it. You already knew your worth.
After all, you were the drum major of the university's marching band—the one who commanded an entire field with nothing but a raised hand and a sharp look. You carried yourself with a natural, domineering aura that turned heads wherever you went. Tall posture, sharp eyes, and an unshakable confidence that made people straighten up when you walked by. Most of your friends secretly envy you for it.
Your relationship with Jaehyun was far from perfect, but it was still one of the healthiest ones you'd ever had. Or at least... that's what you kept telling yourself.
He was caring in his own way. Attentive on most days, always making sure you ate before long band practices and sending you good luck texts before every game. Jaehyun wasn't the most popular guy on campus compared to you, but as a star football jock, he wasn't exactly unknown either. You two shared the same friend group, which made everything feel easy and comfortable.
It wasn't unusual for Jaehyun to go a day or two without texting. You both had busy lives, you with band rehearsals and him with football practice, so you understood. Whenever he had time, he always came back to you. That was how your relationship worked: comfortable, intact, and especially intimate when you finally got to be alone together.
You never doubted him. He always reassured you so well.
Until now.
It had been a full week since the last time you actually spoke to him in person. No late-night visits to your dorm, no sneaking in through your window with that boyish grin. Just short, dry texts. And every time you tried calling him, he would pick up only to say he was "too busy with practice" and hang up after a minute.
Something felt... off.
You tried to shrug it off at first. Jaehyun was probably just exhausted from practice. You told yourself he'd text soon, that he just needed some time to himself. Three days ago, he had sent a short message saying he was going back to his father's house for a while and wouldn't be around campus. You understand.
But that was three days ago.
Now it had been two full weeks since you last saw him in person. Two weeks of dry, replies and calls that ended within a minute. The uneasy feeling in your chest grew heavier, tightening around your throat like a chokehold.
You weren't used to this. You weren't used to doubting him.
Lucky for you, you actually knew his father—Kim Hongjoong.
He was a genuine, warm man. A single father of three who somehow still looked like he belonged on a magazine cover. At 42, Hongjoong could easily pass for someone in his early thirties. Tall, muscular, with sharp, refined features and that same devastating smile Jaehyun inherited. He was kind, attentive, and had a quiet confidence that always made the air feel a little thicker whenever he was around.
If he wasn't your boyfriend's father... well, you wouldn't have let yourself think about it.
But right now, worry was winning over everything else.
You pulled out your phone and quickly typed a message to him.
You: Hi, Mr. Kim. Sorry to bother you. I haven't heard from Jaehyun properly in almost two weeks. He mentioned he was going home a few days ago. Is everything okay? Do you know where he is?
You hit send and stared at the screen, nerves twisting in your stomach. The party noise faded into the background as you waited.
Not even a minute later, your phone vibrated.
Hongjoong: Hey sweetheart. Jaehyun isn't home right now. He said he'll be coming next week. I'm not sure why he told you he was already here...
Your stomach dropped.
He lied.
Jaehyun lied to you.
He never lied to you. Does he?
But now the doubt was creeping in, loud and ugly. Jaehyun had lied. He told you he was going home when he clearly wasn't. Why? The question twisted uncomfortably in your chest, and the fact that you couldn't even confront him made it worse. He was completely missing in action. You typed back with slightly shaky fingers.
You: Oh. I see. Thank you, Mr. Kim. If he comes home, please tell him to message me. Thank you.
Hongjoong: Of course, darling. Take care of yourself, yeah? And visit here sometimes, whenever you can.
You couldn't help but smile softly at his reply. Even through text, Hongjoong's warmth came through so easily. He really was such a sweet man, a genuinely good father. The kind of man who made you feel cared for with just a few words. For a moment, the heavy weight in your chest felt a little lighter.
You slipped your phone back into your pocket and let out a long breath, trying to push the uncomfortable thoughts about Jaehyun to the back of your mind.
You took a deep breath, trying to steady the uneasy feeling twisting in your chest.
If Jaehyun wasn't at his father's house like he claimed, then he was probably just hiding in his dorm. That had to be it. Tomorrow, you decided, you would go see him. You'd look him in the eyes and ask what the fuck was actually going on.
The next day came by so quickly.
You baked his favorite cake. Chocolate with extra frosting, hoping it would soften whatever conversation was about to happen. With the cake box in one hand and your spare key in the other, you stood in front of Jaehyun's dorm door, heart beating heavily.
You took a deep breath and unlocked the door quietly.
The moment you stepped inside, your stomach dropped. Loud, breathy female moans filled the entire dorm. The sound was unmistakable. High-pitched, needy, and very real.
He's probably just watching porn, you told yourself, trying to stay calm. He does that sometimes when he's stressed...
But something felt wrong. You walked down the short hallway, cake still in your hands, and slowly pushed open the door to his bedroom.
The sight hit you like a truck.
Jaehyun was lying on his back in the middle of the bed, completely naked. A girl you didn't recognize was on top of him, riding him hard, her head thrown back in pleasure as she moaned loudly. His hands were gripping her ass, guiding her movements while he groaned beneath her.
For a few painful seconds, you just stood there frozen, cake box trembling slightly in your hands.
Jaehyun's eyes suddenly snapped open and locked onto yours. His face went pale.
"Baby—?!" he choked out, voice hoarse. The girl on top of him let out a startled yelp and quickly tried to cover herself, but it was too late. You had already seen everything.
The cake suddenly felt heavy in your arms. The sweet smell that used to comfort you now turned your stomach. All the late replies. All the sudden "practices." All the lies about going home.
This is why.
"Kim Jaehyun! What the fuck!?"
The cake box slipped from your fingers and hit the floor with a dull thud. For a split second, everything was silent except for the girl's heavy breathing. Then your blood boils.
You didn't scream. You didn't cry. Instead, you strode forward with long, confident steps, that signature domineering aura radiating off you like ice.
The girl barely had time to react before your hand shot out. You grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her off Jaehyun with one powerful pull. She screamed as she tumbled sideways onto the mattress.
"Get the fuck off him," you said coldly, voice low but sharp enough to cut glass. She scrambled away from you, eyes wide with shock, trying to cover her naked body with her hands. Jaehyun sat up quickly, face pale and panicked.
"Babe— wait, it's not— I can explain—"
"Explain?" You let out a bitter laugh, still holding the girl's hair tightly in your grip as you glared down at him. "You lied to me for two weeks just so you could fuck someone behind my back?"
The girl whimpered as you finally released her hair with a rough shove. She quickly grabbed her clothes and ran out of the room like her life depended on it, slamming the door behind her.
Now it was just you and Jaehyun. He looked pathetic, naked, flushed, dick still hard and glistening from another girl's pussy. The sight made your stomach turn.
You stood tall at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, looking down at him like he was nothing more than a disappointing subordinate who just ruined the entire performance.
"Two weeks, Jaehyun," you said, voice dangerously calm. "Two fucking weeks of 'I'm busy' and 'I'm at my dad's'. And this is what you were doing?"
Jaehyun's eyes widened in panic. He scrambled off the bed, still naked, and lunged forward, grabbing your wrist tightly.
"Babe, wait— please, just listen to me! It's not what it looks like, I swear! She doesn't mean anything, it was just— fuck, it was a mistake—"
You felt his grip on your wrist like fire.
With a sharp, powerful yank, you shoved him off you. Jaehyun stumbled back, nearly losing his balance.
"Don't you fucking lay your filthy hands on me!" you hissed, voice dripping with venom. "A mistake? You lied to me for two whole weeks so you could fuck some random bitch behind my back and you call that a mistake?!"
Your chest heaved with rage. Your eyes blurred as tears pooled on your eyelids, making Jaehyun shrink under your glare.
"We're done," you said coldly, staring straight into his eyes. "Don't ever call me. Don't text me. Don't even look at me. Fuck off, Jaehyun."
You turned on your heels, not even sparing the fallen chocolate cake on the floor a second glance, and walked out of his room. The sound of your footsteps echoed down the hallway as you slammed the dorm door behind you with a loud bang.
Tears burned in your eyes the moment you stepped outside, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not for him. You were done.
For the next week, Jaehyun wouldn't leave you alone.
He texted and called nonstop, even after you blocked him on everything. He showed up outside your classes, your band practice, and your dorm. Every time he tried to approach you, your friends were right there, ready to throw punches and shield you like bodyguards. They cursed him out and dragged you away before he could get close.
You stayed strong on the outside, but the betrayal still stung.
By the start of the second week, you thought it was finally dying down. Until one afternoon.
You had just finished band practice and were walking out of the campus gate when a girl stepped in front of you. It was her. The girl you had pulled off Jaehyun that day. She looked nervous, eyes red like she'd been crying.
"Can we talk?" she asked quietly. "Please... just for a minute."
You almost walked past her, but something in her expression made you stop. You crossed your arms, staring her down.
"Fine. Talk."
She took a shaky breath.
"I'm so sorry... I had no idea you existed. Jaehyun told me he was single the entire time. We'd been seeing each other for almost a month. He said he didn't have a girlfriend, that he was too focused on football to date anyone seriously." Her voice cracked. "If I had known about you... I would never have touched him. I swear."
She looked genuinely devastated.
"I feel sick knowing I was the other woman. I'm really, really sorry. You didn't deserve any of this."
For a moment, you didn't know what to say. The anger you'd been carrying suddenly felt heavier. Jaehyun didn't just cheat on you. He had played both of you.
You let out a bitter laugh and ran a hand through your hair.
"...Thanks for telling me," you said coldly. "At least now I know how much of a lying piece of shit he really is."
The girl nodded, looking ashamed, before quietly walking away. You stood there at the gate for a long time, the evening sun casting long shadows on the pavement. The betrayal felt even deeper now.
For the next month, you drowned yourself in studies and band practice.
You threw everything you had into rehearsals, perfecting every count, every movement, every command on the field. At night, you buried yourself in books and assignments until your eyes burned. You barely slept, barely ate, and barely gave yourself time to think.
The whole campus knew what happened. The cheating scandal spread like wildfire. People whispered when you walked by, gave you pitiful looks in the hallways, and sent sympathetic messages. But you kept your chin up high, shoulders back, and that signature domineering aura firmly in place. You refuse to let anyone see you break. You were the drum major. You didn't fall apart in public.
Two months had passed since that awful day. You were in your dorm, surrounded by notes and textbooks, when your phone buzzed. You glanced at the screen.
Hongjoong: Hey sweetheart. It's been a while. How have you been? It's already been two months since I last heard from you. I didn't even know you and Jaehyun broke up until recently... Are you okay?
Your chest tightened. You stared at the message for a long time before replying.
You: Oh. Hello, Mr. Kim. Yeah, we broke up. I'm fine though, thank you for checking me up.
Hongjoong: I'm really sorry to hear that. If you're free this weekend, why don't you come over for dinner? I'll cook. You can talk about what happened if you want to... or we can just eat and you can forget everything for a while. No pressure. I just hate the thought of you dealing with this alone, besides I know for sure whatever the reason is, it could have been my stupid son's fault.
You bit your lip, fingers hovering over the screen. Part of you wanted to say no and keep burying yourself in work. But another part, the tired, angry, emotionally drained part, desperately needed to let it all out.
You: Okay. I'll come. Thank you, Mr. Kim.
Hongjoong: Great. Come by Saturday at 6? Can't wait to see you, sweetheart.
Saturday came faster than you expected. By 6:30 PM, you were standing in front of Hongjoong's house, heart beating a little faster than usual. You had chosen one of your favorite Sunday dresses. A soft, off-shoulder cream-colored dress that hugged your figure nicely but still looked modest enough. You tugged at the hem nervously, suddenly wondering if it was too much. Too pretty. Too revealing for a dinner with your ex-boyfriend's father.
You took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.
A few seconds later, the door opened. Kim Hongjoong stood there, looking unfairly good in a simple black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing toned muscles. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and when he saw you, his face lit up with a warm, genuine smile.
"You're here," he said softly, voice rich and comforting. His eyes quickly scanned you from head to toe before he caught himself and looked back at your face.
"You look great. Come in, sweetheart."
He stepped aside, letting you enter. The house smelled amazing, Garlic, herbs, and something savory that made your stomach rumble.
"I'm sorry I'm a little late," you murmured.
"Don't apologize. I'm just glad you came." He closed the door behind you, then gently placed a hand on your lower back to guide you towards the dining area. The light touch sent a small, unexpected shiver up your spine. "I made carbonara and grilled steak. Hope you're hungry."
As you followed him, the reality of the situation settled in. This was the first time you'd been here since the breakup. No Jaehyun. Just you and Hongjoong.
He pulled out a chair for you like a gentleman, then disappeared into the kitchen for a moment before returning with two glasses of wine. Hongjoong sat across from you, his warm gaze never leaving your face.
"So..." he started gently, voice low and careful. "Do you want to eat first and relax... or do you want to tell me what really happened between you and my son?"
He leaned forward slightly, eyes full of quiet concern and something deeper you couldn't quite name.
"I'm here to listen to everything. No judgment."
You sat quietly for a moment, staring at the glass of wine in your hands. The warmth of Hongjoong's home and his gentle presence made the walls you'd built over the past two months feel dangerously thin.
"I... I'll tell you," you whispered. Hongjoong nodded, giving you his full attention. He stayed silent, patient, as you started talking.
You told him everything.
How Jaehyun had been distant for weeks. The constant excuses. The lies about being at his house. How you baked his favorite cake and went to his dorm with a spare key, hoping to fix things. How you walked in on him fucking another girl. How he had the audacity to lie and say it was a mistake.
The more you spoke, the more your voice shook.
"I kept myself busy for two months straight," you continued, tears already blurring your vision. "Studies, practice, rehearsals... anything just to stop thinking about it. The whole campus knew. Everyone was looking at me with pity and I hated it. I'm supposed to be strong, supposed to be in control... but he made me feel so stupid."
Your throat tightened painfully.
"I trusted him. I never doubted him even once. And he played me like I was nothing. He told that girl he was single the whole time. He lied to both of us."
The dam finally broke. A sob ripped from your chest. Tears streamed down your face as all the anger, humiliation, and pain you'd been holding in came rushing out at once.
"I feel so pathetic..." you cried, covering your face with both hands. "I'm supposed to be better than this. I hate that he still has this much power over me."
You couldn't stop sobbing.
Suddenly, you felt strong, warm arms wrapped around you. Hongjoong had moved from his seat and pulled you into a tight, comforting hug. One hand gently rubbed your back while the other cradled the back of your head.
"Shhh... it's okay," he whispered softly against your hair, voice deep and soothing. "Let it all out, sweetheart. You don't have to be strong right now. Not here."
He held you closer, letting you cry into his chest as your body shook with heavy sobs.
"You're not pathetic," he murmured firmly. "You're incredible. My son is the idiot who couldn't see what he had."
Hongjoong didn't let go. He kept holding you, rocking you gently, his warmth and steady heartbeat slowly calming you down as you cried out months of pent-up pain.
"Just so you know," Hongjoong said softly, still holding you close, "I didn't raise my son to be like that. I thought I taught him well."
His voice was low and heavy with disappointment. One of his hands kept rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back while the other gently cradled the back of your head.
"I don't know where he got the idea that cheating is okay," he continued, almost to himself. "I'm really sorry, sweetheart. You didn't deserve any of this. Not a single second."
You stayed buried against his chest, your sobs slowly quieting into shaky breaths. His shirt was damp with your tears, but he didn't seem to mind. He smelled comforting, like warm cologne, fresh laundry, and something distinctly him.
Hongjoong pulled back just enough to look at your tear-streaked face. His thumb gently wiped away the tears still clinging to your cheeks, his touch incredibly tender.
"Well..." you whispered shakily against his chest, voice still thick with tears, "just by how you're treating me right now... maybe it's only the looks that Jaehyun inherited from you."
Hongjoong let out a soft, surprised chuckle, the sound vibrating warmly through his chest. He pulled back slightly so he could look at you properly, his hand still gently cupping your cheek.
"Is that so?" he murmured, a small, handsome smile tugging at his lips. His thumb brushed another stray tear from your skin. "I'll take that as a compliment then."
Hongjoong watched you with quiet intensity, his dark eyes never leaving your face as you pushed the pasta around your plate. The warm lighting in the dining room cast soft shadows across his sharp jawline and the open collar of his black shirt.
He set his wine glass down slowly, the quiet clink breaking the silence.
"What do you want to do with Jaehyun now?" he asked, voice low and velvety.You stared at your plate for a long moment, the hurt and rage you'd buried for two months rising back to the surface like poison.
"I want him to learn his lesson," you said bitterly, your voice cracking. "I want it to hurt. I want him to feel even a fraction of the humiliation and betrayal he made me feel."A heavy silence filled the room.
Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, studying you carefully. Then the corner of his mouth slowly lifted into a dark, dangerous smile. He stood up and walked around the table until he was standing right beside you. His tall frame towered over you as he gently tilted your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze.
"Then let me help you teach him," he murmured, his thumb brushing slowly across your bottom lip. "We can film ourselves in bed. You and me. I'll fuck you the way you deserved. I'll make you moan my name so loudly the camera catches every desperate sound."
Your breath hitched.
Hongjoong leaned down closer, his lips hovering near your ear as his voice dropped into a husky whisper.
"Imagine it, sweetheart... My hands all over this beautiful body. My cock buried deep inside you while you're falling apart. And then we send that video straight to Jaehyun. Let him watch his own father ruining the girl he was stupid enough to cheat on." He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own burning with lust and something dangerously possessive.
"You'll be screaming for me... and he'll be forced to watch every second of it."
His fingers slid from your chin down the side of your neck, leaving a trail of heat on your skin."It's your decision," he said softly, but his eyes were anything but soft. "If you want real revenge... I'll give it to you tonight. I'll make sure my son never forgets what he lost."
You stared at Hongjoong, heart hammering wildly in your chest.
He was undeniably attractive. The way his black shirt stretched across his broad chest and muscular arms, the sharp line of his jaw, and those intense eyes that seemed to see right through you. At 42, he looked better than most men half his age. But this... this was crossing a dangerous line.
"I... I don't know," you whispered, voice shaky. You looked down at your hands, fingers twisting together nervously. "Mr. Kim, he's still your son. This feels... wrong."
Hongjoong gave you a warm, understanding smile, the kind that made the corners of his eyes crinkle gently. His hand slid from your thigh to your back, giving you a soft, comforting pat as if he could sense the storm of emotions inside you.
"It's okay," he said softly, voice gentle and reassuring. "I don't like pushing things on people, sweetheart. Especially not you."
He straightened up and moved back to his seat across from you, though his eyes never really left your face. The tension in the air slowly eased, but the heat of his earlier words still lingered.
"Go ahead and eat," he added with a small nod toward your plate. "Then you can rest if you want. No pressure at all. I'm just happy you're here."
You nodded quietly and picked up your fork again, though your appetite had mostly vanished. The carbonara tasted amazing, but your mind kept replaying his proposal, the image of you and Hongjoong in bed, filming everything, sending it to Jaehyun.
For the next few weeks, Hongjoong's offer refused to leave your mind.
It lingered like a parasite burrowing deeper every quiet moment. Late at night while you tried to study. During band practice when your mind should've been focused on counts and formations. Even in your dreams, his low voice would whisper the filthy promise again and again.
You told yourself it was wrong. Disgusting, even. He was your ex-boyfriend's father for heaven's sake. But no matter how hard you tried to push the thought away, it always crawled back, hotter and more tempting each time.You decided to ignore it. Bury it. Move on.
Until one sunny afternoon.
You were walking past the football field when you saw them.
Jaehyun was sitting on the bleachers with the same girl, the one you had dragged off his cock that day. She was laughing at something he said, leaning into his side while his arm was casually draped around her shoulders. He looked... completely unbothered. Like he hadn't shattered your trust and humiliated you in front of the entire campus.
Something ugly and sharp twisted violently in your chest.Your feet stopped moving. Your fists clenched tightly at your sides.All the pain, the anger, and the humiliation came rushing back in full force. And right behind it, Hongjoong's voice echoed clearly in your head.
"If you want real revenge... I'll give it to you."
That's when you stopped hesitating.
The sight of Jaehyun laughing with that girl on the bleachers had ignited something feral inside you. No more crying. No more burying the pain. Tonight, you were going to make him regret ever laying eyes on anyone else.
Later that evening, you stood in front of the his father's house with fire in your eyes and steel in your spine. Your fist knocked firmly on the wooden door.
The door opened, and there was Hongjoong.
He looked devastatingly attractive in a simple black button-up with the top few buttons undone, revealing a hint of his toned chest. His dark hair was slightly messy, and the moment his eyes landed on you. Standing there with flushed cheeks, furrowed brows, and clenched fists.
Before he could even speak, you looked him dead in the eyes and said with absolute conviction. "Let's do it."
The air between you instantly thickened. Hongjoong's gaze darkened with raw hunger as he stepped aside, silently inviting you in. The moment the door closed behind you with a soft click, it felt like the outside world had been shut out completely.
Your head started to spin.You didn't know if it was because of Hongjoong's strong, woody perfume, deep, masculine, and intoxicating, that kept flooding your senses with every breath, or if it was the sudden wave of nervousness crashing over you all at once.Your heart hammered violently in your chest. Your palms felt clammy. The reality of what you just agreed to hit you like a freight train.
"Come with me," he said softly.
His hand slid down to yours, at the flat as he guided you upstairs. The house was quiet except for the sound of your own heartbeat echoing in your ears. Every step up the stairs made your stomach flutter harder.He led you down the hallway and pushed open the door to the master bedroom. The room was spacious and masculine, dark wood furniture, a large king-sized bed with crisp black sheets, and soft ambient lighting from the bedside lamps. The air smelled faintly of his cologne, the same intoxicating scent that had made your head spin earlier.
Hongjoong gently pulled you inside and closed the door behind you with a soft click. Without saying a word, he guided you toward the bed, his hand resting lightly on your lower back.
"Sit down, sweetheart," he murmured.You obeyed, lowering yourself to sit at the edge of the large bed. The mattress dipped slightly under your weight. Hongjoong stood in front of you, tall and commanding, looking down at you with dark, hungry eyes.He reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch surprisingly tender.
"Nervous?" Hongjoong asked softly, his voice low and gentle as he stayed crouched between your parted thighs.You could only nod, not trusting your voice. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, but you couldn't deny it. Your heart was racing so fast you felt lightheaded, and the way he was looking at you, so intense, so patient, yet so hungry, made everything feel overwhelming.
Hongjoong gave you a small, understanding smile. He rose slowly from his crouch and sat beside you on the edge of the bed, his thigh pressing warmly against yours. One arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to his side while his other hand came up to gently cup your face.
"It's okay to be nervous, sweetheart," he murmured, thumb stroking your cheek. "This is a big step. But I promise... I'll take care of you."
He leaned in and pressed a slow, tender kiss to your forehead, then another on your temple, letting his lips linger there. The scent of his cologne wrapped around you again, making your head spin in the best way.
"I'm not going to rush you," he whispered against your skin. "We can go slow."
His hand slid down from your face to your neck, then lower, tracing the line of your collarbone with feather-light fingers. He tilted your chin up so your eyes met his again.
"Tell me what you want," he said softly, eyes dark but patient. "Do you want me to kiss you? Touch you? Or do you just want me to hold you until the nerves settle down?" His thumb brushed slowly over your bottom lip as he waited, giving you full control even while his body radiated heat and barely contained desire.
The sigh that left your lips was soft and shaky the moment Hongjoong's lips met yours.It wasn't rushed or demanding. It was slow, warm, and devastatingly gentle, like he was savoring the first taste of something he had wanted for a long time. Your head instinctively leaned into him, eyes fluttering shut as a rush of heat spread through your body.
Hongjoong hummed approvingly against your mouth, one hand cupping the back of your neck while the other stayed firmly on your waist, pulling you closer. His lips moved against yours with experience, deepening the kiss gradually until you parted your lips for him. When his tongue slipped inside, tasting you, a quiet whimper escaped your throat.He kissed you like he had all the time in the world, deep, sensual, and thorough. The kind of kiss that made your toes curl and your thighs press together instinctively.
When he finally pulled back, just enough to let you breathe, his forehead rested against yours. His breathing was slightly heavier, eyes half-lidded and dark with desire as he looked at you.
"Still nervous?" he whispered, voice husky. His thumb brushed tenderly over your now slightly swollen bottom lip.You barely managed a small shake of your head.
"There we go." Hongjoong smiled, slow and predatory, before capturing your lips again, this time with more hunger. His hand slid down your side, gripping your hip as he guided you further onto the bed until your back gently met the soft mattress.
He hovered over you for a moment, drinking in the sight of you lying in his bed, flushed cheeks, parted lips, and eyes hazy with nerves and arousal. Then, without breaking eye contact, he sat back on his knees and reached for the buttons of his black shirt.
One by one, he undid them slowly, deliberately, revealing his toned chest and defined abs inch by inch. The shirt slid off his broad shoulders and strong arms, exposing his muscular upper body. He was even more impressive than you had imagined, years of quiet discipline showing in every line of his torso. He tossed the shirt aside without care.
Your breath caught.
Hongjoong leaned down again, capturing your lips in another slow, heated kiss. His bare skin radiated warmth as he pressed closer, one hand sliding up your side.
His fingers found the hem of your sundress. He sat up slightly and gently tugged the fabric upward, eyes locked on yours the entire time, giving you every chance to stop him. You lifted your hips instinctively, and he pulled the dress up and over your head in one smooth motion, leaving you in just your bra and panties.
Hongjoong let out a low, appreciative groan as his gaze roamed over your body.
"Fuck... look at you," he murmured, voice rough with desire. His hands traced your waist, then moved up to cup your breasts through your bra, thumbs brushing over the fabric. He leaned down and pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, then lower, between the valley of your breasts. His fingers skillfully unclasped your bra and slid the straps down your shoulders, freeing your breasts.
"Perfect," he breathed, eyes dark.He tossed your bra aside and returned to kissing you — deeper this time, while his hands explored your now mostly bare body with slow, reverent touches.
Hongjoong kissed you like he was starving for you, his mouth claiming yours in deep, slow strokes while his hands explored your body with growing hunger. He trailed kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, and lower, until his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, sucking gently.
A soft moan slipped from your lips.
He continued downward, pressing wet kisses along your stomach until he reached the waistband of your panties. Without hesitation, he hooked his fingers into the thin fabric and started slowly pulling them down your thighs, exposing you completely to his hungry gaze.
As the lace slid down your legs, Hongjoong looked up at you, eyes dark with lust. His voice came out low and rough, slightly breathless.
"Where's your phone, sweetheart?" His hands never stopped moving. He finished pulling your panties off and tossed them aside, then ran his palms up your bare thighs, gently spreading them wider so he could settle between them.You could barely think straight, head spinning from the sensation of being completely naked under him.
"In... in my bag," you managed to whisper, voice shaky. "By the door..."
Hongjoong hummed in acknowledgment. He leaned down and pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss right above your mound, dangerously close to where you were already aching for him.
"Stay right here," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot. "Don't move."
He stood up for a moment, giving you a full view of his sculpted torso and the obvious bulge straining against his pants. He walked over to your bag, retrieved your phone, and returned to the bed.
Hongjoong gave you one last deep kiss before pulling back, then handed you your phone with a dark, heated look in his eyes.
"Here, sweetheart," he said, voice low and commanding. "You're going to record this."
He helped you sit up and lean back against the plush headboard, propping pillows behind you so you were comfortable. Then he moved down the bed, settling his broad shoulders between your spread thighs. His large hands gripped the back of your knees and pushed your legs wider apart, fully exposing your glistening pussy to him.
Your hands trembled slightly as you opened the camera app on of your phone and switched it to video mode. You hit record.
Hongjoong looked straight into the lens for a moment, a wicked smirk on his lips, before his gaze dropped back to your dripping core. Without another word, he leaned in and dragged his tongue slowly up your slit in one long, filthy stroke. A broken moan immediately spilled from your lips.
"Oh my god..." you whimpered, hips twitching.
Hongjoong groaned at your taste, the vibration sending sparks through your body. He licked you again, slower this time, savoring every drop before wrapping his lips around your swollen clit and sucking gently.
"Fuck—!" you cried out, your free hand flying down to grip his hair.
He ate you out like a man possessed, slow and deliberate at first, then faster, more hungry. His tongue circled your clit, flicked it, then dipped down to push inside you. The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth on your pussy filled the room, clearly captured by the camera.
You struggled to keep the phone steady, your hand shaking as pleasure coursed through you. "Joong— ahh!" you moaned loudly, eyes rolling back. "It feels so good..."
He looked up at the camera again, eyes almost rolling at the back of his head, while you watched his face contort through the screen of your phone. He then slid two thick fingers deep inside you, curling them perfectly against that sensitive spot. Your moans grew louder, more desperate, as you tried your best to keep recording, legs trembling around his head, hips grinding against his talented tongue.
His tongue worked your swollen clit with expert precision, licking, sucking, and flicking in perfect rhythm while two thick fingers pumped deep inside your soaked pussy. The wet, filthy sounds of his mouth and fingers filled the room, all of it being captured clearly on the phone you were desperately trying to hold steady.
"Ahh—! Hongjoong... fuck!" you moaned loudly, your voice cracking.
Your head fell back against the headboard, but you forced your eyes to stay on the camera. Your thighs trembled violently around his shoulders. The pleasure was building fast, coiling tight and hot in your lower belly.
Hongjoong groaned against your pussy, the vibration making your back arch sharply.
"You taste so fucking good, baby," he growled, lips shiny with your juices. He curled his fingers harder, stroking that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. "So wet for me already."
"I— I can't—" you whimpered, hips grinding desperately against his face. "It's too good... I'm— I'm so close!"
He sucked harder on your clit, flicking his tongue rapidly while his fingers fucked you faster, deeper. Your whole body started shaking uncontrollably. Hongjoong pulled back just enough to look up at you, eyes dark and commanding.
"Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum on my tongue." He dove back in, sucking your clit into his mouth with intense pressure while his fingers curled relentlessly against your g-spot. The coil inside you snapped.
"Oh my god— Hongjoong!" you screamed, your back arching violently off the bed. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. Your thighs clamped around his head as you came hard, pussy pulsing and gushing around his fingers. Wave after wave of intense pleasure ripped through your body, making your vision blur and your legs shake uncontrollably. You kept moaning his name brokenly, loud and shameless, as the orgasm went on and on. You didn't even know if you properly recorded the way he made you cum. It was too much for you to think about it.
Hongjoong didn't stop. He kept licking and fingering you through every pulse, milking every last drop of pleasure until you were a trembling, whimpering mess against the headboard. Only when your moans turned into weak, oversensitive whimpers did he finally slow down. He pressed one last gentle kiss to your throbbing clit before pulling his fingers out and looking up at you with a satisfied, predatory smirk.
Hongjoong huffed a heavy, shaky breath against your soaked pussy, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady himself. Your orgasm had clearly affected him just as much. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with lust, and his lips glistened with your release.
He slowly crawled up your body like a predator, hovering over you on his forearms. His muscular frame caged you in completely, his hard cock pressing hot and heavy against your inner thigh through his pants.
Without a word, he snatched the phone from your trembling hands. He quickly tapped the screen a few times, saving the video with a satisfied hum, then tossed the phone onto the far side of the bed where it landed safely on the pillows.
Now there was nothing between you two. Hongjoong looked down at you with pure hunger, his dark hair falling slightly over his eyes. His bare chest brushed against your breasts with every breath he took.
"Enough recording for now," he rasped, voice thick and rough. "I want to feel you properly."
He leaned down and captured your lips in a deep, messy kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. One of his hands gripped your thigh, pulling it up around his waist as he ground his clothed erection against your bare, sensitive pussy. You moaned into his mouth, still twitching from your orgasm. Hongjoong broke the kiss just enough to rest his forehead against yours, breathing heavily.
"Are you ready for me, sweetheart?" he asked, voice low and husky, barely holding back his hunger. You didn't answer with words. Instead, you looked straight up into his eyes, fiery, determined, and needy all at once, and slowly wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Your fingers threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck as you gave him the clearest answer you could.
Hongjoong's eyes darkened even more. A low, pleased groan rumbled from deep in his chest.
"That's my good girl." He reached down between your bodies and quickly freed himself from his pants. His hard cock sprang out, thick, heavy, and flushed. He wrapped a hand around the base and rubbed the swollen head up and down your soaked slit, coating himself in your wetness.
You gasped softly at the feeling, your arms tightening around his neck.
Hongjoong pressed his forehead against yours, breathing heavily as he lined himself up with your entrance.
"Eyes on me, baby," he whispered roughly. Then, with one slow but firm thrust, he pushed the thick head of his cock inside you.
A broken moan escaped your lips as he stretched you open. Inch by inch, he sank deeper, groaning at how tightly your walls gripped him.
"Fuck... so tight," he hissed through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to slam all the way in. "You feel even better than I imagined." He buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking on your skin as he gave you time to adjust to his size, his hips twitching with the effort of holding back.
The moment you wrapped your arms around his neck and looked him in the eyes, something in Hongjoong snapped.
He didn't hold back anymore.
With a deep, guttural groan, he thrust forward hard, burying his thick cock deep inside you in one powerful stroke. A loud, broken cry tore from your throat as he stretched you wide open, filling you completely.
"Fuck—!" Hongjoong growled, voice raw with years of pent-up desire. "Finally..."
He didn't give you time to adjust. He pulled back almost all the way and slammed back in, setting a brutal, desperate pace right away. The bed creaked loudly beneath you as he fucked you like a man who had been starving for this moment for years.
"Been waiting so fucking long for this," he rasped against your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he pounded into you. "You have no idea how many nights I imagined fucking you raw in my bed."
Every thrust was deep and punishing, his hips snapping against yours with raw power. The sound of skin slapping skin mixed with your loud moans and his heavy grunts filled the room.
Hongjoong grabbed one of your legs and hooked it over his waist, driving even deeper. His rhythm was relentless, almost animalistic, like he was claiming you completely.
"Mine now," he groaned, one hand gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks while the other braced beside your head. "This pussy is mine."
He kissed you messily, all tongue and teeth, swallowing your moans as he fucked you harder. His hips rolled with every thrust, making sure you felt every inch of him dragging against your walls.You could barely think, only feel the way he was ruining you so perfectly. Hongjoong buried his face in your neck again, sucking hard on your skin as he growled.
He fucked you like a man possessed, hips slamming against yours with raw, years-long hunger.
He suddenly shifted his angle, hooking your leg higher around his waist and driving deeper. He thrust hard a few times, searching, adjusting, until he found it. Your whole body jerked violently.
"Ahh—! There—!" you screamed, nails digging into his shoulders.
Hongjoong's lips curled into a feral smirk against your neck.
"Right here?" he growled, voice dark and satisfied. He immediately started targeting that sweet spot mercilessly. Every thrust was precise, deep, and devastatingly fast, slamming directly into the spot that made stars explode behind your eyes. The wet, filthy sound of his cock pounding into your soaked pussy echoed loudly in the room.
"Fuck yes— take it, baby," he groaned, eyes half-lidded with pleasure as he railed you without mercy. "This is what you needed, isn't it? A real man who knows how to fuck you properly."
His pace was brutal now, deep, fast, and relentless. The headboard banged loudly against the wall with every powerful thrust. Your breasts bounced wildly between your bodies as he drove into you again and again, hitting that perfect spot over and over.
You were moaning shamelessly, almost sobbing with pleasure, your arms locked tight around his neck.
Hongjoong buried his face in your neck, biting and sucking on your skin while he fucked you even harder, hips snapping with pure desperation.
"That's it," he panted, voice rough. He angled his hips again, making sure every thrust dragged perfectly against your g-spot, pushing you closer and closer to the edge at an overwhelming speed.
"You're getting so fucking tight again," he groaned, almost snarling. "Gonna cum for me already, sweetheart? Cum all over my cock like the good girl you are."
Hongjoong kept slamming into that perfect spot with ruthless precision, his hips moving in a fast, deep rhythm that left you completely undone. Your eyes suddenly rolled to the back of your head, mouth hanging open in a silent cry as the overwhelming pleasure reached its peak. Your entire body tensed violently beneath him.
"I'm— I'm cumming—!" you sobbed brokenly, voice cracking.
Your walls clamped down around his thick cock like a vice, pulsing and fluttering wildly as your second orgasm crashed through you even harder than the first. A loud, shameless moan tore from your throat, your back arching sharply off the bed while your legs shook uncontrollably around his waist.
The way your pussy squeezed him so tightly, almost begging him to cum with you, finally pushed Hongjoong over the edge.
"Fuck— baby!" he growled loudly, his thrusts turning erratic and desperate. With a deep, guttural moan, he buried himself as deep as possible inside you and came hard. Thick, hot spurts of cum flooded your spasming pussy, filling you up completely as he kept grinding into you, riding out both of your orgasms.
His body trembled above yours, hips twitching with every pulse as he emptied himself inside you, groaning your name against your neck like a prayer. For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were your heavy breathing and the faint creak of the bed. Hongjoong stayed buried deep inside you, his forehead pressed against yours, both of you panting and covered in sweat.
"Shit..." he whispered hoarsely, pressing a lazy kiss to your lips. "You feel so fucking good milking my cock like that." He gave one last slow thrust, pushing his cum deeper into you, then stayed there, savoring the warmth of your body wrapped around him.
Both of you stayed locked together, breathing heavily in the quiet aftermath.
He let out a long, satisfied sigh and gently collapsed on top of you, careful not to crush you with his weight. His face nestled into the crook of your neck, lips brushing softly against your damp skin as he tried to catch his breath.
For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were your mingled breathing and the faint beating of his heart against your chest.
Hongjoong was the first to move. He pressed slow, lazy kisses along your neck and jawline, then finally lifted his head to look at you. His hair was messy, cheeks flushed, and his eyes were softer now, warm, almost tender.
"You okay, sweetheart?" he whispered, voice hoarse from exertion. One of his hands came up to gently brush strands of hair away from your sweaty forehead.
You could only nod weakly, still dazed and trembling from the intensity of your orgasms. Your arms remained loosely wrapped around his neck, fingers playing with the hair at his nape.
Hongjoong smiled softly, a small, genuine smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. He leaned down and kissed you, slow, deep, and full of affection this time, completely different from the raw hunger earlier.
Hongjoong stayed buried inside you for a few more moments, savoring the warmth and the way your walls still fluttered around him. He pressed one last lingering kiss to your lips before slowly pulling out with a low groan.
A thick trickle of his cum immediately leaked from your swollen pussy onto the sheets. He watched it for a second with dark satisfaction before looking back at your face.
"Stay still, sweetheart," he murmured softly, brushing a kiss on your forehead. "Don't move. I'll get you a glass of water."
You nodded hazily, still floating in a blissful, post-orgasm daze. Your body felt heavy and boneless against the mattress.
As Hongjoong got up and walked out of the room, completely naked, you reached over to the other side of the bed where he had thrown your phone. Your fingers trembled slightly as you picked it up.
The video was still there.
Without giving yourself time to overthink, you opened your messaging app, found Jaehyun's contact, and attached the video. Your thumb hovered for only a second before you hit send.The message delivered.
You stared at the screen, heart pounding. A few seconds later, the typing bubble appeared... then stopped. Then appeared again.
Finally, a message came through.
Jaehyun: What the fuck is this?
Another message followed almost immediately, his panic clear even through text.
Jaehyun: Is that... my fucking dad?!
Jaehyun: Are you seriously fucking my DAD?!
You didn't reply. You smiled .A slow, satisfied, almost wicked smile spread across your lips as you scrolled through the flood of texts Jaehyun had sent in the last few minutes.
Jaehyun: What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!
Jaehyun: You're seriously fucking my DAD just because I made one mistake?!
Jaehyun: This is so fucked up. You're disgusting.
Jaehyun: Delete that shit right now. I can't believe you'd stoop this low.
Jaehyun: Answer me you fucking bitch.
Every angry, desperate message made the smile on your face grow wider. You could practically hear him shouting through the screen, the panic, the rage, the disbelief.
You were still smiling when Hongjoong returned with a glass of cold water in his hand. He paused at the doorway for a second, taking in the sight of you, naked, flushed, and glowing, sitting up in his bed while scrolling through your phone with a satisfied little smirk on your face.
Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, amused.
"Did you already send it?" he asked, walking over to the bed. You looked up at him and nodded slowly, biting your lip to suppress the grin threatening to spread across your face.
Hongjoong let out a low, rich chuckle, clearly pleased. He sat on the edge of the bed beside you and handed you the glass.
"Here, drink up," he said softly.
You took the glass and drank the rest of the water slowly while he watched you with dark, affectionate eyes. When you finished, he took the empty glass from your hand and set it on the nightstand.
He leaned in, cupping your jaw gently as he pressed a slow kiss to your lips.
"Good girl," he whispered against your mouth, voice laced with satisfaction. "Now come here."
Hongjoong pulled you back down onto the bed, wrapping his strong arms around your body and tucking you against his chest. He kissed the top of your head, one hand lazily stroking your back.
"Rest now, sweetheart," he murmured, holding you close. As you drifted off in his warm embrace, your phone buzzed one last time on the nightstand. You smiled against Hongjoong's chest and closed your eyes. Revenge had never felt so good.
Summary: Wooyoung is your dealer, you were only meant to pick up the goods but you got more than what you signed up for.
Pairing: Dom!Wooyoung x Fem!reader x Dom!San x Dom!Mingi
Warnings: Drug dealer woosanmin 18+ MDNI, smut, slowburn. porn, foursome, nasty. drug use, cheating, blowjob, menace wooyoung , many more. just proceed at your own risk lol THIS IS PURE FILTH WRITTEN DURING EASTER SUNDAY.
Word count: 7,106 k. (fuck im sorry)
A/N: not proof read but I really just wanted to get this out there. might've switched between 'her' and 'you' im too used to 3rd pov.
The Seoul night air was thick with humidity, clinging to your skin like a second layer as you make your way down the narrow, dimly lit alley. This was the part of the city that thrived in the shadows, a place where the neon from the main streets bled into the murky puddles and the only sounds were the distant thrum of bass from the nearby club.
You knocked on the unmarked steel door, the sound echoing slightly. It was a rhythm you knew by heart. Three short taps, a pause then one more. A moment later, the lock clicked, and the door swung open.
Wooyoung stood there, a silhouette framed by the warm, low light of his apartment. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair loose-fitting grey sweats that hung dangerously low.
His hair was damp like he just stepped out of the shower, dark strands falling into his eyes. A silver chain rested against his collar bone. and the smell of wood and trouble clinging onto his skin.
You were greeted by a stoic face before changing it into a shit eating grin.
"you're late" Wooyoung smiled, voice sweet it was sickening. You leaned one shoulder against the door frame, face contorted in annoyance. "not like you got anything important to do."
A beat passed between you two. The bass from somewhere deeper in the building pulsed faintly through the walls, slow and deliberate, like a heartbeat. He stepped aside without a word, you slipped past him.
The apartment was dim, lit by the faint LED strip under his couch. His apartment reeked of za and a mixture of something warm- vanilla, maybe. Familiar. Intimate. a mistake waiting to happen.
The door shut behind you with a soft click.
Wooyoung didn't move closer right away. Instead, he leaned back against it. His arms folded loosely across his chest as he watches you walk further inside like you owned the place. His gaze dragged over your figure, slow and almost assessing.
"Could've sworn that I just gave you a cue last week." he said quietly.
You turned with your brow lifted. "I ran out quick"
That earned the fainted twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Wooyoung pushed off the door, walking towards the dining table set in the middle of his apartment. he glanced over his shoulder as he opened the box. Inside, nestled in velvet lining, were several neat little baggies of well preserved buds. "You gotta slow down with this baby" baby.
"I'm starting to think that you just want to see me" He turned around, leaning against the table after he retrieved her usual order. Your face contorted again in annoyance, choosing to not entertain his little games.
"But you know" He began, instead of handing the bag to her. His tone shifted slightly. "You're my best customer, always making sure I'm fed, never any trouble. And I believe in rewarding loyalty."
He set her usual baggie aside and reached deeper into the box, pulling out a smaller, unmarked one filled with tightly packed, dark green buds dusted with crystalline sheen.
"New arrival" He said, holding it up. " 'Starlight' is stronger than what you usually get. Smooth as fuck though, with a little kick to it. I want you to try it. On the house"
You raised a brow in surprise. "Free? Are you feeling generous tonight Woo?"
A small hum escapes from his lips. "Always, when it comes to you" He replied, his smirk returning. "But you gotta try it with me, right now"
Before you could say anything, he was already moving to grab his rolling tray, papers and a grinder. Your heart fluttered in your chest, a mix of excitement and nervousness. You've been alone with him countless times, but for some reason. This felt different.
Wooyoung worked with a focused precision, his long fingers skillfully breaking apart the fragrant buds, grinding them to the perfect consistency. You couldn't tear your eyes away from his hands—the way they moved, the veins that stood out against his skin. God you needed to leave as soon as possible.
He caught you staring, and his lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. "Like what you see?" he teased, not looking up from his task. You scowled and whipped your head to the other direction. "fuck off woo" You breathed out. He chuckled.
"Alright try this" He finished rolling the joint with practiced ease, twisting the end perfectly. He brought it to his lips, eyes locking with yours as he lit it, the flame casting a warm glow on his features. He took a slow, deep drag, holding the smoke in his lungs before exhaling a plume that curled and dissipated into the air.
then, he held it out to you. "Try it"
You leaned forward, your fingers brushing against his as you took the joint from him. The contact was dangerous, electric, and a jolt of awareness that shot through you. You brought it up to your own lips, mimicking his slow drag, the smoke filling your lungs with a sweet potent haze.
As you exhaled, you felt it — a heady rush that your limbs feel heavy and your senses sharpen. The world seemed to slow down, the low hum of the city outside fading into a distant buzz. Wooyoung took the joint back, your fingers brushing again, and this time, his touch lingered.
You both passed it back and forth in silence, the only sounds the soft crackle of burning paper and your quiet breathing. The tension in the room grew thick, palpable , a living thing that coiled in the space between the two of you. Your skin tingled, pulse thrumming in your ears. You could feel Wooyoung's gaze on you, heavy and intent, and when you finally met his eyes, you saw something dark and hungry but he masked it in his boyish grin.
He knew. He knew exactly what it was doing to you, and he was enjoying every second of it. The teasing glances, the subtle brushes of his fingers, the low rumble of his voice — it was all a carefully orchestrated game, and you were willing to play.
"Feeling it?" he asked, his voice husky, the words hanging in the air between the two of you.
You nodded, your throat suddenly dry. "Yeah."
"Good" he murmured, leaning back against the couch with eyes on you.
Then, he leaned in closer.
You could feel the heat of him, the slow rise and fall of his chest almost brushing your shoulder. The joint burned low between his fingers, forgotten for a moment as his attention settled entirely on you.
"Your pupils are blown" he laughs lowly, tilting his head slightly to get a better look at your face. "hits fast dont it?"
You swallowed at the proximity, backing away a little. "Y-yeah.. You said it was stronger"
He hummed softly, amused. "Sure did."
he leaned back against the couch again, the low lighting carved shadows along his torso, tracing the defined lines of his abdomen, the V-line dipping beneath the waistband of his sweats. His knees brushed against yours. Too close! need to leave now!
He took another slow drag, eyes never leaving your face this time, then he reached forward. Not with the joint.
With his free hand.
His knuckles brushed lightly along your jaw, tilting your chin upward just enough to hold your gaze. The touch wasn't forceful. It didn't need to be.
"I finally got to smoke with you, been waiting on when you're gonna let me roll for you" He grins.
Your breath felt heavier in your lungs, the room softer around the edges. "You never give free shits before so."
His thumb slid just barely under your chin, warm and steady.
"Well, you never stayed this long before" his voice was slow. A slow smile curved his lips.
You hum softly, then shaking his hold off you.
The air between the two of you felt charged, heavy with smoke and something far more dangerous and risky.
"You're okay. I got you. just relax" Wooyoung exhaled slowly through his nose, eyes dropping.
The high was settling into your bones, a warm, syrupy feeling that made the plush couch feel like it was swallowing you whole. You shifted, the fabric of your dress whispering against your skin. Everything was heightened now, the low thrum of the bass from a distant club.
The silence was killing you.
"So," You spoke, voice a little softer than you intended. "What is this again? Starlight?"
"mm," Wooyoung hummed, taking another slow dragged from the joint that's almost finished. He passed it back to you, fingers deliberately brushing against her palms. "New strain, Supposed to be special"
Your brows rose, feeling a bold curiosity fueled by the haze in your mind. "Special how? what's the side effects?"
Wooyoung leaned back, spreading his arms across the back of the couch. A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. Instead of answering, he picked up his phone next to him, his thumb swiping across the screen. "Let's see what the pot heads says"
he squinted at the bright screen, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, he let out a low chuckle, a sound was both amused and dangerous. He looked up from his phone, his eyes locking directly at you. The air crackled.
"Well, first on the list is doozy. check." He said, his voice dropping to that gravelly register that made your thighs clench. "Next is... and the primary effect is.. aroused."
The word hung between the two of you, stark and undeniable. Your breath hitched. A hot flushed crept up your neck, blooming in your cheeks. You blamed the weed, of course its the weed! but you knew it was more than that. It was him. It was the way that he's looking at you, like he knew every dirty thought tracing through your head.
"...Right" You managed, trying for nonchalance and failing miserably. You need a distraction until this shit wears off. Anything to break the intensity of his gaze. You reached out for the remote resting next to the ash tray. Your fingers fumbled with it as you pointed it at the massive , black screen mounted on the wall. You pressed the button.
The screen flickered to life, but it didn't return to a streaming service menu. It resumed exactly where it had left off. On the screen, a woman with her head thrown back in ecstasy was being thoroughly pleasure by a man whose face was mostly buried between her legs. The sound were vivid, slick and unapologetic. A litany of breathy moans and dirty talk filled the stunned silence of the room.
You froze, the remote clutched in your hand like a lifeline. Your face burned with a humiliation so acute it was almost arousing. "Oh my god, I—"
Wooyoung's laughter cut her off. It wasn't mocking; it was deep, genuine and completely unbothered. He didn't even flinch.
"I was watching porn before you arrived, sorry" He admitted with a casual shrug, as if he'd just confessed to leaving a dish in the sink. He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees, his gaze flicking from the screen to your mortified expression. A slow smile played on his lips before taking the remote from your hands. He pressed play before you could say anything.
"Woo! you're fucking insane" Your mouth hang open as your eyes naturally drifted to the screen. You should've stood up and left but he sank deeper into the couch next to you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his skin.
For a while, You two just watched in silence. The sounds from the TV filled the space, a rhythmic, explicit soundtrack to the tension coiling tighter and tighter between the two of you. You tried to keep your eyes glued to the screen or your phone but you were achingly aware of him beside you.
Then, to the corner of your eye, you saw it. A subtle movement. Wooyoung has shifted, slouching down into the cushions. He wasn't touching himself. Not overtly. But his hand had come to rest on his upper thigh, his long fingers languidly tracing the thick, hard line of his erection straining against the fabric of his sweats. He wasn't hiding it. He wasn't being aggressive. He was just... existing in his arousal, letting it sit there, a silent, powerful invitation. and that made it more dangerous.
Your own body responded instantly. A wave of liquid heat pooled low in your belly, your clit pulsing in time with the moans from the television. You squeezed your thighs together, a futile attempt to alleviate the sudden, desperate ache. You tried not to look, you wanted to leave but your body was heavy. You really tried but your eyes kept betraying you, darting back to the slow teasing circle his thumb was making, so close to where she suddenly, desperately wanted him to touch.
Wooyoung knew. Of course he fucking knew. He could probably smell your arousal from where he is. He let out a soft hum, a sound of deep satisfaction, and finally turned to look at you, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded.
"See?" he whispered, his voice low.
"Told you it was special"
The porn on the screen faded into distant, irrelevant hum. The only thing in your universe was the man next to you and the thick, pulsing tension that was making it hard to breathe. Your eyes were now glued to the prominent bulge straining against the soft grey cotton of his sweatpants. It was a blatant, confident display, and it was doing things to you that you couldn't control.
You felt his gaze on you , hot and heavy, but you couldn't meet it. You were too caught up in the sight, in the ache throbbing between your legs. Unconsciously, your thighs rubbed together, a desperate, silent plea for friction you knew he could only provide. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest; Got you.
He held out the last of the joint, the paper now short and singed. "Here, finish it" He murmured, his voice thick with smoke and satisfaction.
You took it, you shouldn't have. You should've left. You brought it to your lips, your eyes still fixed on his lap as you inhaled deeply. The smoke was potent, laced with an aphrodisiac quality that melted the last of your inhibitions. It coursed through , a warm, permissive wave that told you to stop fighting, to just take what you wanted.
And what you wanted was right beside you.
As you exhaled a low, unsteady stream of smoke, your hand moved with a will of its own. It dropped from your lap to his thigh, the skin warm and firm beneath your touch. He didn't flinch, didn't move a muscle. He just let you explore, his body a silent, willing canvas.
Your fingers inched higher, tracing the seam of his sweats until they brushed against the hard, thick ridge of his cock. The fabric was soft, but beneath it, he was rigid steel. You curled your fingers, wrapping it around him through the pants. He was bigger than you imagined, thick and heavy in your grasp, and a jolt of pure unadulterated lust shot through you.
Wooyoung let out a soft hiss of air, his head falling back against the couch. He still didn't touch you, his hand resting loosely on his own thighs, offering you complete control. The power was intoxicating.
You tightened your grip, stroking him slowly through the fabric. The friction wasn't enough. It was a frustrating tease. You needed more. You needed to feel him. skin on skin.
Your fingers found the waistband of his sweats. With a soft decisive tug, you hooked your thumb under the elastic and pulled it down just enough. His cock sprang free, slapping heavily against his lower abdomen. The sight stole the air from your lungs. He was perfect— long, thick, and flushed a deep, angry pink, the tip already beaded with pearly precum.
The joint now forgotten, was crushed out in the ash tray. There was only one thing left to do.
Leaning over, you lowered your head. The scent of him, clean and masculine and uniquely Wooyoung, filled your senses. You stuck out your tongue, tracing a slow, deliberate circle around the head, lapping up the salt drop of precum. He tasted as good as he looked.
Wooyoung's sharp intake of breath was the only reaction you needed.
Then, you parted your lips and wrapped them around the head, sinking down slowly, taking him into the heat of your mouth. He groaned, a low guttural sound of pure pleasure that vibrated straight though you, settling deep in your core. You began to move, your tongue swirling, your slips sliding, taking him deeper with each pass, the television moans now a pathetic echo of the real thing happening on this couch.
The world has narrowed to the wet slide of your lips, the heavy weight of him on your tongue, and the deep rumbling groans he was letting out. You lost yourself in the rhythm, in the raw, primal act of pleasuring him. Every flick of your tongue, every hollowing of your cheeks, was met with a sharp intake of breath or a muttered curse from above. You were so focused, so consumed by the taste and feel of him, that you didn't notice the shift in the room's atmosphere.
Wooyoung, however, did. He was a creature of his own environment, always aware. And right now, his environment was about to be breached.
While you were occupied, his hand moved from his own thigh to yours. He didn't ask, didn't hesitate. He simply gripped the hem of your dress, the soft fabric a stark contrast to his rough, assertive touch, and pulled it up, baring your legs and the thin lace of your panties to the cool air. he didn't yank or tear; the motion was dominant but deliberate, claiming.
His fingers ghosted over the soaked fabric, and he chuckled, a low, dark sound of his triumph. "Fuck baby, You're dripping for me, aren't you?" He murmured, his voice a husky caress. He pressed the heel of his palm against your clothed core, the pressure a delicious torment that made you moan around his cock. He was in control, dictating the pleasure even though your mouth was around him.
Just as his fingers hooked the side of your panties, ready to grant you the pleasure you've been desperate to have, the front door clicked open.
You froze, your mouth still full of him. Panic, cold and sharp, cut through the haze of arousal. You tried to pull back, to scramble away, but Wooyoung's hand was suddenly firm on the back of your head, holding you in place. It wasn't a rough gesture, but a silent command: Don't move.
Two figures walked in, their laughter and casual conversation dying mid-sentence as they took in the scene. It was San and Mingi. Wooyoung's friends.
They stopped just inside the doorway. For a split second, there was a stunned silence. San's eyes widened slightly, a slow, appreciative smirk spreading across his face. Mingi just blinked, his gaze flicking from your flushed face, to Wooyoung's relaxed, dominant posture, to the very obvious act happening on the couch.
There was no shock, no outrage. Just mild surprise and amusement.
San was the first to speak, his voice casual as he shrugged off his jacket. "Well, that's fucking hot"
Mingi just snorted, shaking his head with a grin as he toed off his shoes.
They didn't stop and stare. They didn't gawk or make a scene. As if it were the most normal thing in the world to walk in on their friend getting head on the couch, they simply continued their path. They walk right past them, heading for the staircase that leads to the upper floor.
"Hey Woo" Mingi called over his shoulder as he started up the stairs. "Just grabbing Gedd's order. Don't mind us."
"Yeah," San added, following him up. "Carry on. Don't let us interrupt the ... this"
Their footsteps faded away, and then the sound of a door closing upstairs.
The silence that followed was deafening. You were mortified, your entire body rigid with embarrassment. But Wooyoung, still holding you gently but firmly, just tilted his head back and laughed. A real, deep, /pissed/ genuine laugh.
"Those dickheads..." he said, his voice vibrating through his chest and into your mouth. "Has zero fucking boundaries" He finally released his hold on your head, his fingers stroking through your hair softly. He looked down at you, his eyes dark with lust and something else— something like pride.
"Now.. where were we?"
The laughter died in Wooyoung's throat, replaced by a low growl of pure need. The interruption, far from breaking the spell, has only sharpened it, adding a dangerous, thrilling edge to the atmosphere. He looked down at you, your lips swollen and your eyes wide with a mixture of lingering shock and renewed hunger, and a slow dangerous smile spread across his face.
"get up" he commanded, his voice a husky whisper.
Before you could even process the order, he was already moving. His hands were on you, strong and sure, as he effortlessly flipped you over. You landed on your back on the soft plush cushions with a soft gasp, your dress still bunched around your waist. He hooked his fingers into the sides of your panties and with one fluid decisive motion, pulled them down your legs and tossed them aside.
Now you were completely exposed to him, your glistening cunt open and waiting. he didn't give her a moment to feel self conscious. he lowered his head, not giving any warning before he dove in.
The first touch of his tongue was electric. A broad , flat stroke against your slick folds that made your back arch off the couch. He wasn't gentle or tentative; he was ravenous. He ate you out like a man starved, his tongue swirling and probing, finding your clit with a sickening accuracy that made you see stars. He alternated between sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves and fucking his tongue deep inside you, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you open for his assault.
You were so lost, your fingers tangling in his hair, your hips rolling against his face as he drove you higher and higher. The sounds from the TV were gone, replaced by the wet , lewd sounds of his mouth on you and your own breathy moans.
You were so close, teetering on the edge, when you heard footsteps again.
Your eyes fluttered open, your hazy vision focusing on the figure descending. It was San. He has come back down. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes fixed on the scene on the couch, on Wooyoung's head buried between your shaking thighs.
A fresh wave of heat, potent and dark, washed over you. This was wrong. This was filthy. And it was the hottest thing you have experienced.
San watched for a moment, his own arousal evident in the tight line of his jaw. he walked closer, his movements slow and deliberate, until he was standing right behind the couch. he didn't look at Wooyoung. He looked at you.
"Wooyoung" San's voice was low and rough that vibrated through the room. "You're gonna make her pass out before I get a turn"
Wooyoung lifted his head, his chin and mouth glistening with your arousal. He gave him a menacing grin, a feral possessive thing. 'Fuck off San"
"Just a taste" San bargained, his gaze still locked on you. His eyes were dark and intense, a silent question in their depths. "Come on, she looks so fucking delicious"
The decision wasn't Wooyoung's to make. It was yours. San was asking you. The power shifted back into your hands, and the thrill of it was immense. You looked from San's burning eyes to Wooyoung's challenging smirk. A part of you should've said no, but the weed, the lust and the sheer audacity of it all won.
You gave a slow nod, ashamed and embarrassed.
This was all the permission San needed. Wooyoung surprisingly didn't object. He just shifted to the side, making room. San knelt on the floor by the couch, leaning in. He didn't hesitate either, his head dipping back down.
And then it happened.
Two tongues, two sets of lips, working in tandem. It was a dizzying, overwhelming assault on your senses. Wooyoung was more aggressive, his movements focused and demanding as he lapped at your clit. San's was exploratory, his tongue delving, curling inside you, tasting you deeply. They share you, passing you back and forth between their mouths like a joint, their occasional brushes against each other only adding to the thrill.
Your mind went blank. You could only feel. The dual sensations, the sight of them between your legs, the sound of their shared appreciation. Your orgasm ripped through you with the force of a tidal wave, a blinding, shuddering release that left you gasping and weak, your body twitching with the aftershocks. They didn't stop, drawing out your pleasure until you were a whimpering, oversensitive mess, completely and utterly theirs.
You were still floating in the hazy aftermath, your body limp and pliant, when you heard the heavy footsteps on the stairs again. A third person. Your heart gave a little flutter of anxious anticipation. You didn't have to wait long to see who it was.
Mingi appeared at the bottom of the steps, his tall frame filling the space. He took in the scene instantly; Wooyoung kneeling on the floor, San's head still between your thighs, your legs splayed wide and still trembling. Unlike San's initial pause, Mingi's reaction was one of immediate understanding and a grin that was pure sin.
"Oh That's what we're doing" He announced, his voice a deep, amused rumble. "Let me get a turn"
He strode over, his confidence radiating off him in waves. While San finally lifted his head, his lips shiny and his expression satisfied, Mingi was already hooking his thumb into he waistband of his own sweats. He pushed them down just enough to free himself, and your breath was caught. He was long and thick, a heavy, imposing weight that he held in his fist.
He didn't ask. He didn't wait. He positioned himself by your head, tapping the thick head of his cock against your swollen, sensitive lips. The gesture was both a question and a command. You were caught in a dizzying spiral of submission and lust. You parted your lips willingly, inviting him in.
He slid into your mouth with a low groan, his hand tangling in your hair to guide you. The sensation was overwhelming— the weight of him on your tongue, the musky , clean scent of him filling your senses.
Just as you find the rhythm, you felt Wooyoung shift. He rose from the floor, his body moving over yours, caging you in. His eyes, dark and possessive, bored into yours as he notched the head of his cock against your soaked entrance. He paused for a fraction of a second, a silent moment of connection, and then he pushed inside.
A guttural moan was muffled by Mingi's length as Wooyoung filled you completely. He didn't start fast. He set a punishing, deliberate pace, pulling out almost all the way before sinking back in, deep and hard. Each thrust forced you further onto Mingi's cock, creating a perfect, overwhelming rhythm. You were the centre of their storm, a vessel for their shared pleasure.
San , now a spectator, watched the whole scene with an avid, hungry gaze. his eyes eyes tracked the way Wooyoung's hips snapped against yours, the way your body arched to take him deeper, and the way you hollowed your cheeks moved as you suck off Mingi. He palmed himself through his jeans, a look of intense concentration on his face.
Then, he calmly pulled out his phone, He unlocked it, his thumb moving lazily across the screen. You could hear the faint click of the keyboard as he typed, his eyes still glued on the sinful scene in front of him. He held his phone to his ears.
"Yo Gedd, Yeah listen, I'm gonna have to raincheck tonight.." he said, his voice completely normal, as if he was discussing the weather. He paused, listening. " Nah, I'll deliver tonight or tomorrow.. laters."
He hung up, tossing his phone onto the armchair across with a soft thud. He looked back at you, a satisfied smirk spreading across his face.
"Wouldn't wanna miss this"
The world was a blur of sensation, a symphony of overwhelming pleasure. You were completely at their mercy, caught between the two men using your body, their movements a perfectly timed, intoxicating rhythm. The air was thick with the smell of sex and smoke that made your head spin.
While Mingi's cock filled your mouth and Wooyoung's pounded into you, San was silent, appreciative audience. He moved in a languid grace, completely comfortable in the role of being the observer. He settled on the armchair across, rolling up another joint with practice eased just like Wooyoung. He lit it, taking a slow drag as he watched them, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded.
Just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, Wooyoung's thrusts began to slow. With a final, deep groan, he pulled out of you, leaving you achingly empty. Before you could even process the loss, Mingi was already withdrawing from your mouth.
"My turn" Mingi rasped, his voice laced with lust.
He didn't give her a chance to move. With a strength that was both thrilling and a little terrifying, he gripped your hips and flipped you over onto your hands and knees. the position was lewd, exposing you completely. He wasted no time, gripping his cock and sliding it in one swift, powerful stroke.
A sharp cry tore out of your throat. Mingi was rougher than Wooyoung, his thrusts harder, more demanding. He sent a relentless pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room. But it wasn't cruel. His hand roamed on your back before finding the lose strands of your hair, he gathered in a pony tail for him to hold.
He reached out one of his arms towards San, who passed him the lit joint without a word. Mingi took it, bringing it to his lips and inhaling deeply as he continued to fuck you from behind. The sight of him, tall and powerful, smoking calmly as he drove into you. It was pushing you over the edge.
But Wooyoung wasn't done either.
he sat back on the couch next to her, his legs spread. His cock, still hard and glistening with your arousal, stood at attention. He tangled his fingers in your hair, guiding your face back towards his lap.
"Open up, Sweetheart" He says with mockery. "We're not done with you yet"
You willingly obliged, your lips wrapping around him once more. The new position was even more intense. Mingi's hard thrusts from behind forced your mouth down onto Wooyoung's length, creating a perfect, synchronised rhythm of being filled from both ends. You were their toy, their plaything, and the thought sent a fresh wave of gushing wetness down your thighs.
That's when the talking started, a low filthy phrase that pushed you to the edge.
"Look at you" San's voice heard from across the couch, thick with smoke and satisfaction. "Taking it so well. Such a good girl.."
"fuck, your mouth feels so good baby" Wooyoung groaned, his hips bucking slightly, pushing deeper. "Just like that, take it all"
Mingi, Holding the joint in one hand, used the other to deliver a sharp, stinging slap to your ass. The sharp smack made you clench around him. "You like that huh?" He growled, his voice rumbling against your back. "Like being fucked by both of us huh? While San watches? Nasty bitch"
The combined stimulation, the relentless pounding, the fullness in your mouth, the stinging pleasure on your ass, and the degrading words that was also praising her. was all too much. Your orgasm crashed through you, violent and consuming. Your body convulsed, your scream muffled by Wooyoung's cock as your walls clenched uncontrollably around Mingi's length.
They didn't stop, riding out your orgasm, drawing it out until you were a trembling, whimpering mess. Yet you craved for more.
You were a limp, quivering mess, your body still humming with the aftershocks of your last orgasm. You were barely conscious, floating in a haze of blissful exhaustion. But the night was far from over.
San had enough of watching.
He stood up from the couch, his patience worn thin. With a possessive growl, he moved to the couch, his eyes burning. He didn't ask, he didn't negotiate. He hooked his hands under your arms, yanking you back from Mingi with a rough, decisive pull that made you gasp.
"My Turn" San snarled, His words raw with declaration of intent.
he manhandled you onto the couch, positioning you so that you were straddling his lap. your back pressed on his chest. He lined up cock against your slick entrance. He didn't give you a moment to prepare before gripping your hips and slamming you down onto him.
A piercing scream tore from your throat, the sound instantly muffled as Mingi stood in front of you again, grabbing the back of your head and guiding your mouth back onto his slicked cock. San's pace was brutal, a ruthless, punishing speed that stole your breath. He used your body like a toy, lifting you up and slamming you back down , each powerful thrust driving you deeper onto Mingi's cock. The pleasure was so intense it bordered on painful , a while hot, blinding force that consumed you.
After a few moments of his merciless assault, San's movements changed, He stilled his hips, his hand gripping on your waist. "Ride me" He commanded. " Show me how much you want it"
Your muscles screamed in protest, but your body was desperate and it obeyed. You planted your hands on Mingi's waist for support and began to roll your hips, bouncing on San at the pace that he wanted.
Your eyes, blurry and hazy, landed on the forgotten joint smoldering on Mingi's hand. You reached for it, you needed the haze, the sweet smoke to dull the edged of this overwhelming feeling that's consuming you. Your movements clumsy as you continue to ride San, you brought the joint to your lips, inhaling a deep, shaky drag as you sank deeper on his length.
The three men watched you, utterly captivated. The sight of you riding one of their cocks while the other is stroking Mingi's, was the single most erotic thing they've ever seen if not experienced. Their gaze was heavy with lust, dark, possessive with pride.
Mingi stroked your cheek, his thumb wiping away a stray tear of overwhelmed pleasure. "So fucking perfect"
Wooyoung took the joint off you from behind the couch, taking a drag off it while reaching to grope one of your tits. You exhaled the thick cloud of smoke, head falling back on San's shoulder as a sudden sharp clarity cut through the fog of lust. You looked at them, a breathless, disbelieving laugh escaped your lips.
"You guys are fucking insane.." you breathed out, voice hoarse from screaming and moaning.
San just chuckled, he nipped at your ear. "You love it"
He tightened his grip, a possessive, final claim. He held you still for a moment, his chest heaving against your back, his cock buried deep inside you. Wooyoung who was watching from behind the couch saw the opportunity, eyes locked at the way you were stretched around San. Your clit swollen and begging for attention. A menacing grin appeared on his lips as he made his way around.
“Gotta make sure she’s full right?” He spat on his hand, stroking his cock to make it slick, and then moved forward, positioning himself at your already occupied entrance.
Your eyes widened, a jolt of panicked excitement shooting through you. ‘W-wait! I- I can't!”
“Yes you fucking can, don’t be weak” San’s voice was low but reassuring, his arms tightening around you to hold you still. “Take a deep breath, I got you baby”
Wooyoung started to push. The pressure was immense, a burning, stretching sensation that teetered on the edge of pleasure and pain. You cried out, your hands unsure where to hold, body tensing instinctively.
“That’s it baby.. You’re doing so well” Wooyoung coaxed, his voice calming you down.
You forced your eyes open, meeting his intense gaze. He looks so fucking good. He pushed again, a slow relentless pressure, and then with a sudden, sharp pop, the head of his cock slid in along San’s
A scream was torn from your throat, the sensation of being so impossibly, unbelievably full sending your senses into overdrive. It was a feeling of complete and utter surrender, of taking you to your absolute limit and then pushed beyond it.
They gave you a moment to adjust, a precious second to breathe through the overwhelming stretch. Then, they began to move.
It was a clumsy, perfect rhythm at first, learning to move together. One would pull out slightly as the other pushed in, creating a constant, maddening friction. Then they found their pace, a synchronised, powerful rhythm that stole the air from your lungs.
Two cocks, stretching you, filling you, owning you. The pleasure was immense, a white-hot, all consuming fire that burned away every rational thought. Your head fell back against San’s shoulder. Your body limp and pliant in his arms as they used you, their shared grunts and groans sending you into another world.
“So fucking perfect” San whispered in your ears, “Such a good little slut”
“Made to be stuffed full” Wooyoung chimed in, his eyes locked on the sight of your cunt stretched around them. Then, he looked up and straight past your shoulders. He leaned in, over your shoulders where San’s face resides and claimed the older male’s lips. Like, they’ve done this before.
You could feel the two move their heads as they locked their lips, it was the most erotic thing you have ever witnessed.
The dirty words, combined with the relentless, dual stimulation, were your undoing. Your orgasm didn’t build; it detonated. A violent, explosive force that ripped through you, your body convulsing and clamping down around them as you screamed their names into the charged air. You were gone, shattered into a million pieces of pure, humiliating ecstasy, lost in the sensation of being filled by two men at once.
The world had dissolved into pure sensation, Your mind went completely blank as Wooyoung and San found a devastating rhythm inside of you. Each twin thrust sent a shockwave through your system, a perfect, agonizing pleasure that was too much and not enough all at once.
Mingi, who had been stroking himself with a slow, deliberate patience as he watched, finally decided it was his turn to join the symphony. He moved to the couch, his tall frame towering over yours from the side. He tapped his leaking cock against your cheek, no words were needed, your mouth complied.
You parted your lips, he slid into your mouth that followed a groan from his own lips. The slick heat distracts you from the painful stretch between your legs. Now you were completely full, three cocks, three men all focused on you.
They all work in tandem, a perfect coordinated machine of pure filth. San’s hips thrust up from below, Wooyoung’s drove down from above, and Mingi slid in and out of your mouth. They moved in a rhythm that was both brutal and beautiful, a shared ecstasy that consumed you whole. Your muffled whimpers and the slick, lewd music of their music of their bodies joining together.
You could feel it coming. The change in their breathing, the way their movements grew more erratic, more desperate and sloppy. They were all reaching their peak.
“Fuck I’m gonna cum” Mingi groaned, his hand tightening around your hair as he began to fuck your face in earnest. “Swallow it all– fuck.”
With final, deep thrust, he buried himself in your throat. His cock pulsed, and hot, thick ropes of cum filled your mouth. You swallowed instinctively, your throat working to take every drop as he groaned his release.
The sight of it, the feeling of you swallowing around Mingi, was the last straw for the two.
“Gonna fill you up” San snarled in your ear, his teeth grazing your neck as his hips slammed up into you one last time.
“Take it” Wooyoung groaned, his eyes wild as he drove deep.
They came together, a perfect, synchronized explosion. You felt the hot, powerful spurts of their release flooding your insides, two distinct pulses of heat that seemed to merge into one, filling you to the brim until their combined essence trickled down your thighs. The feeling was so intense, so absolute, that it triggered one final, shattering orgasm that ripped through what was left of your consciousness.
They stilled, the only sounds in the room their heavy, panting breaths. Mingi slowly withdrew from your mouth, a soft, satisfied sigh escaping you. Wooyoung and San remained inside you for a moment longer, their bodies trembling from the aftershocks, before they too pulled out, leaving you empty and dripping with their cum.
You collapsed forward onto the couch, used, quivering and a satisfied mess.
For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the heavy, sated breathing of four people. The air was thick, saturated with the scent of sex, sweat and smoke.
Then, a sound cut through the haze.
It was your phone, buzzing and skittering across the coffee table. The sharp, insistent chirp of your custom ringtone– a cheerful, upbeat pop song– was scarily out of place. The screen lit, illuminating the name in bold, glowing letters Yunho.
The air turned into ice. Wooyoung who broke the silence, a slow wicked grin spreading across his face.
“Well, Well” He drawled, his voice a low purr against your ears.
“Looks like Boyfriend’s checking in”
You yanked your dress on, grabbing the baggies on the table as panic washes over you.
「summary」 : physics was never a strong subject for you, but when your hot new tutor kim hongjoong comes to the rescue, you start to wonder if you're really staying for the lessons - or just for him.
「warnings」 : mdni, college party, academic pressure, smoking weed, shotgunning, kissing, cuddling, oral (m receiving), cum swallowing, happy ending woohoo!
「author's note」 : this is my contribution to the LIVE ALIVE! collab event with @sungbeam. I am grateful for everyone i met in this collab and i recommend going and reading everyone else's works as well!
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The hours of studying weren't cutting it anymore. For the first time in your college career, your grade threatened to drop to a C.
To every other student, that may not seem like the end of the world. But to you, a C on your transcript could put you at risk of losing your academic scholarship.
This scholarship is the only thing getting you through school, cause only lord knows your broke parents aren’t able to pay for any of it.
That’s what made the whole situation kind of difficult. Your pride of knowing you are intelligent, but not being able to allow yourself to get help until it’s too late.
It was Mingi’s party where you would finally admit it.
You hadn’t even planned on going. You had a practice set due next Friday and a textbook that had been open on your desk for three days without you actually reading it, and the idea of spending a Friday night pretending to be fine while a chapter on velocity sat waiting for you felt wrong.
You went anyway. Because staying in that room alone with your own spiral had stopped being productive two weeks ago.
The party was what Mingi’s parties always were - small at first, then suddenly not, people multiplying from somewhere, the kitchen getting loud.
By ten o’clock you were on the balcony.
Hongjoong was already out there.
You knew him the way you knew a lot of people at this point in the semester - from being in the same department and having mutual friends. You’d talked before. Enough to be comfortable, not enough to have anything real. He was easy to be around, which you’d noticed without meaning to.
“You look like you’re thinking too hard for a Friday,” he said, without looking over at you.
“I’m always thinking too hard.” You said facing his direction.
He glanced at you then, brief. Accepted that. Looked back.
You stood there for a while without talking, which was fine, easier than fine, actually. You didn’t have to pretend to care about anything at the moment.
Eventually, because the drinks loosened things and you were tired of holding it in, you said: “I might be failing physics.”
He turned.
“Not failing,” you corrected. “C range. Which for me is…” You stopped, hand scratching up the back of your neck while breaking eye contact. “It’s not good.”
He didn’t say that’s not so bad or I’m sure you’ll be fine, which you appreciated more than he could’ve known. He just asked: “What part?”
So you told him. It was pretty much everything. The lab equations, formulas, the way things made sense in lecture and then fell apart the second you tried to apply them alone at your desk at midnight.
He listened like he was actually tracking it, not just waiting for you to finish.
“I took that class last year,” he said, when you were done. “I still have all my notes.”
You looked at him.
“I’m not a tutor or anything,” he added, like he wanted to be honest about that. “But I know the material. And sometimes it just helps to have someone explain it differently than the professor does.”
You were quiet for a second. Your pride sat somewhere in your chest, doing what it always did - resisting.
But you thought about your scholarship. About your parents. About the practice set sitting on your desk.
“Okay,” you said.
He looked mildly surprised, like he hadn’t been sure you’d say yes. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You turned back to the railing. “If you’re offering.”
“I am.”
You worked out the details quickly after that - Thursday, his place, early evening. Uncomplicated.
He texted you the next morning just to confirm, which you hadn’t expected, and you wrote back your schedule and tried not to read anything into the fact that he’d texted first.
You spent the days between being sensible about it. He was someone you knew. He was helping you pass a class. That was the whole story.
You’d almost convinced yourself of that by Thursday.
His apartment smells exactly like him.
"Ignore the mess," he said, though there wasn't one. It was neat - books stacked on the coffee table, a blanket draped over the back of the couch, and a warm-toned light coming from the lamp in the corner. "I usually study out here, but the kitchen table has more room, if you would rather."
"Here is fine," you say while settling into the couch.
Hongjoong hesitated, then sat on the opposite end. He pulled textbooks out of his bag along with printed notes, a calculator, and things to write with. He really took this seriously.
He set up the area very organized, flipping the pages to chapter four.
You watched as his hands started to draw. They were nice. He had good handwriting too, the kind that flowed across the page and didn't look rushed at all.
He got into the in depth explanations on lab equations, comparing them to your collected data and to the work on the upcoming test.
"Does that make sense so far?" He asked, glancing up.
"Yeah it does. You were right. You are explaining it way better than the professor ever could."
"Oh, thanks. I've just taken the class before," he scratched the back of his neck.
"When?"
"I took it last year. I am trying to graduate early." He started to crack his knuckles, becoming a little anxious. "Sorry, that's not important, let me show you how to solve the practice problems."
-
An hour passed more easily than expected. Physics almost made sense when Hongjoong was the one explaining it. Or maybe you just liked listening to him talk.
He helped you gather your things as you prepared to head towards the door.
"Same time next week?" You mentioned while putting your shoes on.
"Yeah, definitely. If you want," he smiled.
"I do."
You left him standing in the doorway, and if you'd turned around, you'd seen him standing there long after you left, wondering why his heart was beating so fast.
That study packet got turned in. The weekly quiz was graded. You finally felt a little bit more confident in your Physics abilities.
The scores came back. Better than expected. B- on both of them.
That is definitely a start to leveling out your grade.
In the second session, you wore a tank top that always slides off one shoulder.
Hongjoong noticed. You caught the way his eyes flickered while he set up his notes.
"How was the quiz?" He broke the silence, making himself comfortable on the couch again. This time he was a little closer to you. Or maybe you were overthinking it.
"Better than expected. I actually got a B."
"Oh wow, That is a lot better than the last one," His face actually lit up. Something about his genuine expression made your chest feel a little warm. "See? you just needed a little push."
"Or maybe I just needed a better teacher," you added, taking out your laptop from your bag.
He tried to hide his face in his palms as his ears started to turn red. "I-uh… No, you did the work."
The session started off like the last one, but you started to notice things they never stood out before. He was so patient with you, even when he had to explain things multiple times. The way he pushed his black hair back when he was thinking, or how he tapped his pen between his fingers while he watched you use the calculator.
Fuck. It was kind of hot.
You rested your chin on his shoulder as he continued on about formulas, or whatever he was talking about.
Hongjoong went still for a second. He didn't push you away, he just went back to what he was saying. You didn't move back.
He kept talking, but his voice went slightly unsteady as he tried to focus only on physics.
"So if you apply this equation here-" his breath hitched as you shifted. "-you will get the velocity."
"Mmm," you hummed as if you were absorbing the information. Really, you were just watching how his throat moved when he swallowed.
His hand trembled as he wrote out the next practice problem. Poor him, he tried so hard to keep his eyes on the paper.
"Try this one," he slid the paper towards you, with his voice a little higher.
When you sat up, you heard him sigh. Hard to tell if it was relief or disappointment.
You worked through the problem, aware of him watching over your work. His leg bounced every few seconds, a sign of his nervousness.
"Is this right?"
He jerked back "It's perfect, you got it."
"Thanks to you."
He cleared his throat after a second, reaching back for the textbook. His hand bumped into yours.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
"You apologize a lot."
"I- do I?" He finally looked at you.
"Yeah," you smiled, tilting your head. "You don't have to, I don't mind."
The rest of the session was… hard.
Hard to focus on studying. Hard to focus on anything but him.
He waved you goodbye as you walked through the door. He let out a noise; not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh.
He waited till he could hear your footsteps in the hall get quieter as you walked away before sinking back into the couch.
What the hell was that?
When you got home, the scent of Hongjoong's cologne started to linger in your mind longer than it should have. It was beginning to become a problem.
The tutoring sessions were innocent enough, but you can't help but to let your imagination wander when thinking about them.
He was undeniably handsome, but not in an aggressive way. Quietly so. The kind you didn't notice all at once - it accumulated. The slope of his jaw. The way his eyes moved when he was reading, focused and unhurried. His hands, which you had spent an embarrassing amount of time thinking about since the second session. Long fingers, especially sexy.
You were sitting in your own apartment now, textbook open in front of you, and none of it was going in.
You read the same sentence four times.
It wasn't that you hadn't been attracted to people before. You had. This just felt different in a way that was inconvenient, given the circumstances. He was your tutor. Technically. Sort of. He had been very clear he wasn't a tutor, which somehow made the whole thing worse.
You closed the textbook.
The problem wasn't even the attraction itself - you could manage that. You'd filed things away before, kept them at a distance. The problem was how easy he was to be around. How he didn't make you feel stupid when you got something wrong, just waited, redirected, tried a different angle. How he remembered what you'd struggled with the week before without you having to remind him.
The patience of it was what got to you.
You leaned back against your headboard, staring at the ceiling.
You thought about the second session. His voice went unsteady. His hand bumping yours and the way he'd pulled back like he'd touched something hot. The sigh when you sat up - the one you still hadn't decided the meaning of.
You pressed the back of your hand to your mouth.
He probably helped other people. Probably sat just as close to them, explained things just as carefully. You had absolutely no reason to believe you were anything other than someone he was doing a favor for.
And yet, you reached for your phone on instinct, scrolled past his contact without pressing it, then set it face down on the mattress.
You opened your textbook again. Read the same sentence. Closed it.
You had to wait another week before you could see him again.
That is way too long.
You pick your phone back up and scroll back to your chat. The only message there were pertaining to the tutoring or your grades.
You nervously shoot him a text. A simple -
hey, do you ever just like… take breaks? from studying i mean
You sent it before you could rethink it. Watched the screen. Told yourself not to watch the screen.
The dots appeared fast.
yeah lol why
You chewed the inside of your cheek.
idk. just been in my head a lot lately. my apartment is starting to feel like a prison cell
A pause this time. Longer than the last. Long enough that you started composing an exit strategy - never mind, just being dramatic - and then his response came through.
i usually take drives when it gets like that. clear my head
You read it once. Read it again.
that's actually a good idea
You hadn't planned what came after that. You didn't need to.
you wanna come with? i can pick you up Saturday. like 8ish
You stared at it.
He had suggested it himself. Unprompted. I can pick you up - not we could, not maybe sometime.
Your thumb hovered over the keyboard for a second longer than necessary.
yeah. 8 works
He sent back a single okay with no punctuation, which for some reason made your face warm.
You put your phone down and sat very still in the middle of your bed.
Outside of the sessions. No notes, no textbook, no practice problems giving you something to look at that wasn't him. Just his car and the dark and whatever version of yourself showed up when there was nothing academic left to hide behind.
You thought about the way his voice went unsteady in the second session. The sigh you still hadn't figured out.
You pulled your knees to your chest.
Saturday.
You were already nervous and it was only Thursday.
When he arrived, shivers went down your spine. You don't know how to act around him. Not outside of 'tutoring', and definitely not alone.
The scent of his car was exactly the same one you had been thinking about the past two days.
It was masculine. And very addictive.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey."
You buckled your seatbelt and stared forward.
"You eat?" he asked, pulling away from the curb.
"Not really."
A second of silence.
"Wanna grab snacks from the convenience store before we head out?" He offers.
"Honestly, yeah. That sounds nice," you say, stomach ironically growling simultaneously.
The drive to the store was short, but no less awkward. He had soft music playing lowly in the background, and a slight mist intermittently coating the windshield.
He held the door for you, held the snacks you chose, and paid for your food at the end of it. It was clear it was just a friendly gesture, but his actions couldn't help but tug at your heartstrings.
He didn't tell you where he was going, and you didn't ask.
That felt like the right call. The city thinned out gradually - fewer streetlights, more open roads, the kind of quiet that only exists past midnight when everyone sensible has gone home. Hongjoong drove with one hand loose on the wheel, the other resting against the window. Like he'd done this a hundred times.
He pulled off onto a road you didn't recognize, gravel crunching under the tires, and parked at the edge of what looked like an overlook. The city sat below it, distant and glittering, doing its thing without you.
"Here," he said simply.
He killed the engine. Reached into the back seat without much ceremony and pulled a small tin containing weed from his jacket pocket, setting it on the console between you.
You looked at it. Looked at him.
"I should've asked first," he said, reading you. "We don't have to."
"No, I -" You shook your head. "I want to."
He cracked the window on his side. You did the same. The night air came in cool and damp, carrying the smell of wet grass.
He was unhurried about the whole thing. Careful, even. His hands moved with the same quiet focus they did when he was setting up his notes, and you watched them the way you always did without meaning to.
He passed it to you first.
The first pull smoothed something out in your chest almost immediately. Not dramatically - just a quiet loosening to the tension you hadn't noticed you were carrying.
You passed it back.
For a while neither of you said anything. The music was still going, faint enough that you could barely make out the song. Hongjoong tilted his head back against the headrest and exhaled slowly toward the cracked window.
"Is it always like this?" you asked eventually. "When you drive."
"Pretty much." He turned to look at you. "Does it help?"
You considered that honestly. Considered all of the work you have been trying to get through over the past few weeks.
"Yeah," you said. "It actually does."
He looked at you a second longer than necessary, then back out the windshield.
You sank a little lower in your seat. The warmth was settling in fully now.
-
Maybe the weed made you a little more confident, or maybe you are just an idiot. But after a few more hits, you asked a question that definitely caught him off guard.
"Can I ask you something?" you say, gesturing for another drag.
"Yeah, what's up?" he hands it over.
"Do you have a girlfriend?" you squeak out.
A second of silence.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't ha-"
"No, I don't," You both interrupt each other.
"Oh no, its fine. I don't mind that you asked," he reassures you.
"I definitely just made it awkward," you say with a straight face.
"No you didn't," he giggled, "Its not a big deal."
You passed it back to him and stared out at the city, pretending to be very interested in the lights.
"Why?" he asked after a moment.
"Why what?"
"Why did you want to know?"
You could feel him looking at you from the side. You kept your eyes forward.
"Just curious," you said, which was technically true and also completely dishonest.
He made a small sound. Not quite convinced. He took a drag and let the silence sit there between you, and you got the feeling he was doing it on purpose - giving you room to say something more if you wanted to.
You didn't. Not yet.
"Do you?" he asked.
"Do I what?"
"Have a boyfriend."
"No," you said.
"Okay."
"Okay," you repeated.
Neither of you elaborated. The rain had picked back up again, softer now, and the windows had started to fog at the edges from the warmth inside the car. Hongjoong reached over to wipe a small circle clear on his side, and the mundaneness of it somehow made everything feel more intimate.
You were too aware of everything. The proximity. The low music. The way his knee was angled slightly toward you without him seeming to notice.
You were mid-thought when he turned to face you.
He didn't say anything. Just looked at you for a second with something unreadable in his expression, and then he leaned forward.
Your breath caught.
He exhaled slowly, the smoke passing warm from his mouth to yours, close enough that you could feel the heat of it. Your eyes stayed open for a second too long, locking eye contact with him across the console.
Neither of you moved back.
The smoke dissolved. The space between you didn't.
His forehead came to rest against yours, barely - just the lightest point of contact, like a question. His breath was unsteady in a way that made something ache in your chest, because he was always so composed and right now he wasn't, and that undid you more than anything else could have.
You closed the last inch yourself.
It was soft at first, like both of you were still deciding. His hand came up slowly, fingers brushing your jaw, and that was what made it real. The careful way he touched you, like he'd been thinking about it and was trying not to get it wrong.
You kissed him back properly, and he made a quiet sound against your mouth that you felt more than heard.
When you pulled back, neither of you went far. His hand was still at your jaw. Your fingers had found the front of his jacket at some point without you noticing.
He searched your face in the low light.
"I've been wanting to do that," he said quietly, "since the second session."
You laughed short, a little breathless. "The second session."
"When you leaned your head on my shoulder." He exhaled. "I didn't know what to do with myself after you left."
You giggled, resting your forehead against his again. The rain came down steadily against the roof, the city lights blurred softly through the fogged windows, and you stayed right there, in no rush to go anywhere at all.
-
Some time went by and the high started to fade into tiredness. It was nearing midnight, and though neither of you had anything important the following day, you both decided to call it a night.
He drove you back home, but this time conversation flowed easier than the first time. Laughing, cracking jokes, playfully punching his arm when he made you giggle.
When you finally got back home, wished you a goodnight, and waited until he saw you get inside before driving away.
Your phone screen lit up.
thank you for tonight :)
i was actually just about to say the same thing, thank you
You can feel the blood rush to your face as you try to keep your composure.
so i'll see you thursday? he asked.
of course :P
You and Hongjoong texted each other here and there throughout the week, just check-ins and making sure you didn't need any help with homework.
Once the next tutoring session rolled around, it felt more like you were there just to be around him, and it was less and less about the physics, or your grade.
Of course you would still put in the work and pay attention, but what's the problem with having some eye candy to look at while you did it?
-
Tonight he wore that delicious black sweater that dipped just low enough to expose his collarbones. You'd be lying if you said you didn't catch yourself staring at them, or the way his lips moved when he tried explaining something that you had no intention of listening to.
"Are you listening to anything that I am saying?" he paused, voice cracking a little.
He didn't look at you. He couldn't. He just kept his eyes glued to the notebook, but the flush on his cheeks was a dead giveaway.
"I'm taking it all in, trust me," you murmured with your face suddenly closer to his than it was moments before.
He didn't even know how to respond. His eyes just glance between yours, with a shade of pink blooming across his face as he tries to get back to what he was saying.
"Right," he cleared his throat, shifting back to put a little distance between you. "So, the velocity equation…"
"Hongjoong."
He stopped.
You took the pen from his hand and set it on the coffee table. He watched you do it without protest.
"We're not really doing physics right now," you said.
He exhaled through his nose, a quiet, reluctant sound. He'd been pretending not to know that and you'd just made it impossible. "What do you mean?"
"I think you know what I mean…" your voice drops, sliding your hand in his thigh.
You laughed, which seemed to break something loose in him too, and then he was smiling, the real kind, the one that made the corners of his eyes crinkle, and something in your chest pulled tight at the sight of it.
He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Simple, careful. His fingers lingered at your jaw the same way they had in the car, like he remembered exactly where they were supposed to go.
"You make it really hard to be responsible," he murmured.
"Then stop trying so hard."
He searched your face for a second, that quiet, steady look he had, making sure. Then he closed the space between you.
This kiss wasn't soft the way the first one had been. This one knew the answer already. His hand curved around your jaw, tilting you toward him, and you felt him exhale slowly through his nose like he'd been holding something in all week.
You turned toward him fully, fingers finding the front of that sweater, the same way they'd found his jacket in the car. He made a low sound when you pulled him closer, and his free hand came to your waist, warm even through the fabric.
The notebook slid off the cushion and landed on the floor.
Neither of you acknowledged it.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, forehead dropping to yours, breath uneven. Up close like this, in the warm lamplight of his apartment, you could see the flush across his cheekbones, the way his eyes had gone a little dark.
"Physics can wait," you said quietly. "I just want to make you feel good."
"Wait." He squeaked quietly. "I have never done any of… this… before." He gestured with his hand.
"Shhh… just let me take care of you," you softly kissed his neck, lips dragging against the sensitive skin. "Will you let me do that?"
He leaned back further on the couch, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. "Fuck," He whispered. "Yes, please."
A few wet kisses left his neck glistening with your saliva. Your fingers trail down from his shoulders to his abdomen, unable to ignore the tent growing in his pants. Virgins get hard so easily.
He reached down, his fingers threading gently through your hair, not pulling, just guiding as you leaned forward. Your hands trembled slightly as you tugged at the waistband of his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers. His cock sprang free, already hard and throbbing, the tip covered with pre-cum. It was thicker than you'd imagined, veined and curving slightly upward, making your mouth water at the sight.
You wrapped your fingers around the base, feeling the heat of him pulse against your palm. Hongjoong let out a low groan, his hips shifting involuntarily as you stroked him once, slowly, from root to tip. "Fuck, that feels good," he murmured, his voice rough but airy.
Emboldened, you parted your lips and took the head into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the sensitive underside. The salty taste of him filled your senses, and you hummed softly, the vibration drawing another deep moan from him. You sucked gently at first, your cheeks hollowing as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper inch by inch.
Hongjoong's grip in your hair tightened just a fraction, not forceful but encouraging, as he watched you with hooded eyes. "Just like that... yeah, baby, take more." You obliged, relaxing your throat and sliding down further until the tip brushed the back of your mouth. Your free hand cupped his balls, massaging them lightly, feeling them draw up tight under your touch.
The room filled with wet, slurping sounds as you worked him over, your saliva coating his shaft and dripping down to your fingers. You pulled back occasionally to lick along the length, tracing the prominent vein with the flat of your tongue before diving back in, sucking harder now, your pace quickening. Hongjoong's thighs tensed under your arms, his breaths turning ragged.
"God, your mouth is so fucking perfect," he gasped, his head falling back against the couch. You glanced up at him through your lashes, the sight of his parted lips and flushed cheeks spurring you on. You hollowed your cheeks again, sucking with more pressure, your hand twisting in rhythm with your mouth.
He bucked slightly, a warning rumble in his chest. "I'm close... don't stop."
You didn't, pushing yourself to take him as deep as you could, gagging just a little but powering through, determined to make him unravel. With a guttural curse, Hongjoong came, his cock twitching as hot spurts of cum flooded your mouth. You swallowed around him, milking every drop until he shuddered and went limp, pulling you up gently to kiss you breathless.
"That felt…incredible," he whispered against your lips.
You lied against him, feeling the rise and fall of his chest with each breath he took. He fixed his pants to be halfway decent while you laid together, his fingers combing through your hair.
You pulled back just enough to look at him. His hair was slightly messed up, cheeks still flushed, eyes soft in a way you hadn't seen before.
You stayed like that for a while. Long enough that the night got quieter outside and his breathing evened out into something comfortable. At some point he reached over and turned the lamp down without disturbing you, and that small, thoughtful thing lodged itself somewhere in your chest and stayed there.
When you finally left, he walked you to the door.
"Thursday?" you said.
He nodded, a small smile catching the corner of his mouth. "Thursday."
You didn't kiss him again at the door, but you thought about it. And by the way he watched you go, you got the feeling he did too.
Thursday came faster than expected, which should have been a relief and somehow made it worse.
You stood outside his door for a second longer than necessary before knocking. You weren't sure what version of him was going to answer. He opened the door and his eyes went soft for just a second before he caught himself.
"Hey."
"Hey."
He stepped aside to let you in. The apartment smelled the same. The lamp was already on, warm in the corner, and the notebooks were out on the coffee table like always. Like nothing had changed. Like he'd set everything up the same way on purpose, giving you both something familiar to stand on.
You appreciated that more than you knew how to say.
You sat down. He sat beside you - closer than the first session, not quite as close as last week, somewhere carefully in between. You noticed. You didn't say anything.
"So," he started, uncapping his pen.
"So," you echoed.
He glanced at you sideways. A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth and he looked back down before it could become something more. "Chapter six. Momentum."
"Right."
"You okay?"
"Yeah." You tucked your leg underneath you, settling in. "Are you?"
He paused, pen hovering over the notebook.
"Getting there," he said.
Which was somehow exactly the right answer.
The session started the way they always did, but something underneath it had shifted. He was still patient. Still explained things twice without making you feel like you needed to apologize for it. But every so often he'd glance over and catch you already looking, and neither of you would say anything, just return to the notebook like it hadn't happened.
It happened four times. You counted.
At some point your knee found his without either of you moving toward each other. You both left it there.
"Okay, try this one," he said, sliding the paper toward you.
You worked through it slowly, aware of him watching over your shoulder the way he always did, that quiet focused attention that you had completely given up pretending not to like.
"Is that right?"
He leaned in to check. Close enough that you could feel the warmth of him.
"Almost," he said. "You dropped a negative sign here."
"Ugh."
"It's an easy fix." His pen moved across the paper, correcting it gently. "You had the right idea, you just-"
"Lost track."
"Yeah." He looked up. You were closer than either of you had accounted for. His eyes dropped briefly to your mouth and then back up, the apples of his cheeks going pink. "You just lost track."
He didn't move back. Neither did you.
"Hongjoong."
"Mm."
"We're doing it again."
"Doing what," he said, which was absolutely unconvincing.
"Pretending."
He exhaled slowly through his nose. Set the pen down. Turned to look at you properly for the first time since you'd arrived.
"I don't know what we're doing," he admitted quietly. "I just know I've been thinking about last week a lot."
"Me too."
"I wasn't sure if that was…" He stopped. Started again. "I didn't want to assume."
Something in your chest pulled loose at that. Of course he hadn't assumed. Of course he'd set the notebooks out and sat at a careful distance and tried to give you an easy out if you wanted one. That was just who he was.
"You're not assuming," you said.
He searched your face the way he did when he was making sure he understood a problem correctly. Then something in his expression settled.
"Okay," he said softly.
"Okay."
He reached over and closed the notebook.
Even though the following tutoring sessions consisted of a worrying fusion of actual tutoring and… something else, your grades slowly started to improve.
The notebooks still came out, out of habit, out of genuine necessity - but so did the takeout containers, and the long conversations that had nothing to do with lab reports or equations. You learned that Hongjoong had a playlist for every mood and none of them were labeled. That he stress-cleaned when deadlines got close. That he laughed with his whole face when something actually caught him off guard.
You told him things too. About the scholarship. About your parents. About the specific brand of pride that had kept you from asking for help until a stranger's balcony and too much to drink had finally loosened it out of you.
He listened the way he always did. Made you feel wanted.
Your final grades were imputed into the system.
General Physics: 88% (B+)
You stared at it on your laptop screen for a long moment before you texted him. No buildup, no explanation. Just a screenshot and a single line-
i think you saved my GPA.
His response came fast.
you did all of the work. you deserve it.
You got the scholarship renewal letter in May.
It came in an email with a lot of formal language that you didn't read past the first line, because the first line was enough. You sat at your desk, in the same chair you'd been staring at a textbook from when none of this had started yet, and felt something settle quietly in your chest.
You called Hongjoong before you'd even fully processed it.
"I got it," you said when he picked up.
"Yeah?" The warmth that crept in before he could compose himself. "Of course you did."
"You sound more sure than I was."
"I was always sure," he said.
It wasn't dramatic, the way things shifted between you. There was no single moment you could point to and say that's when it became real - it had been accumulating the whole time, the way his attractiveness had, quietly and all at once.
It was real the night he drove you back from dinner and reached over to hold your hand on the center console without making anything of it.
It was real the morning you texted him something stupid at 7am and he responded immediately, which meant he was already awake, which meant he was already thinking about his phone.
It was real when he introduced you to his friends as someone important and then looked mortified about it, ears going red, and you had laughed for a long time while he stared at the ceiling.
By the time summer started, the physics textbook had been returned to whatever shelf it had come from. The notebooks were still around, tucked somewhere in his apartment. Occasionally you'd find one and flip through the pages, the careful handwriting, the diagrams, the practice problems he'd written out for you at the beginning of all of this.
Does that make sense so far?
It did now. All of it.
"Stop reading that," Hongjoong said from the kitchen without looking up, like he'd developed some sense for exactly what you were doing at all times. "It's embarrassing."
"It's not embarrassing. It's sweet."
"It's a physics notebook."
"That's what makes it sweet."
He came around the counter with two mugs and set one in front of you, then sat beside you - middle of the couch, same as always - and looked at the notebook over your shoulder.
"You actually got that one wrong," he said, pointing.
"I got the next one right."
"You did," he agreed.
He leaned back, pulling you with him out of habit. You let the notebook fall closed.
Outside, the semester was over. Your grade was where it needed to be. The scholarship was secure for another year.
And Hongjoong's arm was around your shoulder, warm and easy, like it had always belonged there.
You closed your eyes, and nuzzled your nose into the crook of his neck.
Now, it felt natural.
-/-/-/-/
taglist : @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @kisssan @way2jellyous @civeua @stxrrywoo @strhwa @s0ul1nyah @velvetjoong @klowiishere @eviemae5864 @3nhyxx @leewayout @paomaoposts @eggielix @matzduo (reupload since i messed the first one up)
【Summary】: ATZ was the place to be. Everyone either wanted to be in the fraternity or be with one of the members... And this push and pull you had seemingly fallen into with one of the brooding frat boys was making you dizzy. Your neck quickly aching from whiplash over the constant what ifs and maybes... Oh... Oh wait, it was just the dark bruising hickies *he* left that were the ache and the overflow of alcohol that made you dizzy... Whoops.
『Word count』: 9.17k
-> Genre: College Au. Angst. Smut.
[Warnings]: Swearing. Insecurities. Reader likes to belittle herself a lot. So many pet names. Flirt San. Lowkey hinting at some ot8 activities if you catch my drift. Marking, biting, possessiveness. Dirty talking. Name calling (slut). Making out. Inappropriate use of the top of a beer bottle... Oral, crying, slapping. Kinda of lying and manipulation but who's really looking at that...! Protected sex cause we might be freaky but we are safe here... For now. whoops unprotected sex, breeding and coming inside. i lied we weren't safe. we into freaky stuff. Seonghwa is a mean dom in this one. Squirting... Lots of cum oops. Sorry, not sorry. Teehee.
Note: Welcome to my contribution to the amazing Live Alive Collab, hosted by none other than the beautiful @sungbeam ♥ Being my first ever collab I've been super nervous and wanting this fic to be perfect!!! So I hope you all like it hehe.
Also a Big thank you to @xomakara for making my banner here. She is so talented ♥ And make sure to check out everyones fics in this event!! Love you all darlings. Enjoy. (Also there will possible be a part two maybe with the other members but I wanted to keep the event fic just for Seonghwa. teehee)
It wasn’t always like this. Harsh thoughts, even harsher stares. Whispers of curiosity and sly disgust. Questioning how you had a in that most girls would be fighting tooth and nail for.
There were moments, mostly when you were young, when life was simple, peaceful even. But now, as you ran through the crowded halls, no club, no place, no status to help you, you slowly started to come to a sense of acceptance that you were going to be invisible forever… a bookworm amongst the elite.
“Come on, one night.” You groan as you hear your best friend since childhood, Jongho, grumble through your phone. You were currently lying on your comforter, textbook after textbook scattering across the tops of your desk and bed. As you prep for… well, nothing really. Exams are over for the season. ‘I’m just getting prepared for next term,' you’d say, more to yourself than your friend… 'Can't be too ready…' Okay, now you were pushing it…
“Come on, it’ll be fun. The guys love having you around… No overly loud party. Just us all celebrating the end of exam week.” Jongho’s buttery voice made your insides turn. ‘Love having you around' the words replied in your head a thousand times. They probably only “like” you because they have to put up with you for Jongho's sake.
You hated how right your thoughts sounded right. You hated how you fell for their sirened words every time.
“Fine.” You sighed, knowing you wouldn’t win a fight with your teddy bear of a friend.
“Yes! Also…” His voice vibrated your ringing ears. “Seonghwa got you something.”
“Seong—” Your voice cuts off into a choking fit, saliva betraying you as you try to breathe. “H-hwa.. got..why would he..—Shit can't talk now. I'm about to go on, I'll see you later.”
And just like that, his goodbye was quicker than his hello, and you were stuck in the silence once more. Only this time you were stuck with the looming thoughts, Why did Seonghwa get you something and more importantly… You thought he hated you.
The walk over to the frat house was long and cold. The campus felt like a ghost town now that everyone had cleared out from the game earlier. The last play of the season, with some of the boys from ATZ frat house coming out on top. You've only ever been to one. When Jongho finally convinced you to show up for it to cheer him, Mingi, and Yunho on. But that soon led to you being cornered behind the bleachers by a group of popular girls that were determined to know how you were so close to all the ATZ boys.
How you… could possibly have anything they don't. They were all drop-dead gorgeous, tall with long thin legs, and had perfect faces that matched their perfect styles. They were the object of everyone's desire. People either wanted to be them or be with them… except you. You were nothing.
You didn't wear heavy, flawless makeup. You didn't wear tightly formed clothes. You weren't the it girl or the talented cheerleader… You were just… you.
The sidewalks that are normally filled to the brim with caffeinated, no-sleep, most likely on some sort of medication students were now mere echoes of your footsteps right up until the scuffs of your boots at the base of the frat house steps. You stared at the door for what felt like an eternity, questioning if you should just ditch and go back to the safety of your dorm surrounded by text books and fantasy novels…at least they wouldn’t judge you.
“You gonna stay out here all night, sweetheart. Or are you gonna come in.” The deep, almost sultry voice catches you off guard. It was only when you refocused your eyes that you noticed San leaning against the small porch fence with a lit cigarette in hand. His eyes were piercing and his smile subtle—being here for performing arts and a modeling/Image consultant program—he most certainly fits his major. "Well, are you?”
Heat flushed as you realised you had been staring at him for a little too long for your liking. “Y-yes. I’m coming.” … His smirk grew intensely.
Wrong choice of words idiot.
You huffed out a breath before walking straight for the front door, leaving Mr Perv outside to tend to his smoke. Upon walking in, you took in the strong stench of weed and liqour.. The gathering, as Jongho put it, must have started early. "Aye, there's the sweetest sweetheart!!" Mingi hollers from the couch as you rounded the corner.
“Hey.” You whisper out, holding your sides while your arms stay firmly crossed together.
“You need a drink. Let me get you a drink!” Mingi tries to sit up, but he stumbles, already half drunk. Hearing a crash, both Yeosang and Wooyoung come rushing out of the adjoining kitchen, one firmly holding a pot lid while the other holds a spoon.
"What's the damage?” Wooyoung shouted, thinking something was broken… Again. You couldn't help but crack a smile, watching the boys fumble and flail to get Mingi back on the couch.
“Only Mingi’s pride…” A smooth, roaring presence shifted behind you. His voice almost as dark as his slight smile. You knew it was him before you saw him. Shifting your head slowly, your gaze drags up, long elegant legs draped with loose black sweats, matching compression-T on the slickest waist before landing on piercing eyes. Eyes that made you hot. Eyes that made you go mad.
“H-hi Hwa.” You mentally cringe at yourself for using the nickname you always hear the boys use. It wasn’t something you called him. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Seonghwa seemed to notice your uncomfortability instantly, his pupils expanding at the idea of watching you squirm. So like normal Hwa fashion, he digs for more.
"Hey, Sweetheart.” That nickname... One that all the boys adopted for you and one you’ve grown accustomed to hearing. But when it slipped from Seonghwa’s lips, it was different. You knew it was because he wanted something. He only used it when he wanted something. He would rather use your name than slip into the sweetness of a pet name, and last time he called you that, you spent hours after helping him study. Or the time before that, you went with him to the library because he didn't want to go alone. As he put it. He knew he made you melt and he knew he could get anything he wanted if that one little innocent name slipped off his tongue.
“Y-you have something for me?” You hesitated while the taller man's eyes studied you. Only for a moment, never long enough to warrant warning. But just enough to have you redder than Wooyoung’s freshly dyed hair.
He leant down slowly, his lips barely scraping your ear. “Come with me.”
And just like that he was off, heading towards the staircase. You quickly followed behind, noting each door you passed. Yunho’s and Mingi's shared room, Jongho’s and Yeosang's…a bathroom. San and woos… He stops suddenly, almost making you bump into his broad back. You couldn't help but let out a quiet yelp, making Seonghwa turn his head slightly over his shoulder. "S-sorry..."
Your murmur was not unheard by Seonghwa, but he didn’t respond, instead, he smirked to himself slyly before slipping into the room he stopped abruptly at. You followed suit, trying to rub off the embarrassment off your face, but before you could shed away the redness, it only grew darker as your eyes landed upon the perfectly made grey bed in the centre of the small but cosy bedroom…
Seonghwa’s bedroom.
You’ve never been in his room before, heck, you were well aware of how much he hated others in here. Always saying others would make it messy. And from the last time San came into it, having his way with ruining the cosy sheets, Seonghwa officially made it clear that no one goes into his room unless he permits it.
"So... What was…” Before you could finish your sentence, Seonghwa quickly opens and closes a jewellery box that sat nicely tucked away on his desk. The voice made you silence yourself as you watched him turn around to finally fully face you.
“The guys and I have been wanting to get you a gift.” He rubs the soft velvet bag between his fingers while his eyes never left yours. “Something to show our appreciation. And we… Well, I came up with the idea to get you this.”
He pulled out a thin necklace with an unfamiliar-looking symbol hanging off it. The pendant was dark red, the gems in it gleaming in the small orange lighting of Seonghwa’s bedroom… it almost looked like a compass?
“It would mean a lot if you wore this.” You've never heard Hwa sound so soft before. His natural brooding nature always made him sound cold to everyone other than his brothers. But now, in his moment, he sounded like liquid sin. Honey mixing with all roses. He held the necklace, silently asking if he could put it on for you.
Of course, you listened. You always listened if Seonghwa asked. Holding your hair up, you turned around, giving Seonghwa access to your neck. His long arms wrapped around you as he unclasped the necklace, letting it lie coolly on your collarbone.
“I knew you'd say yes.” Seonghwa's voice was a whisper now, the feeling of his hot breath against your neck making you shiver. You had no idea how long you stood like that, just feeling him closely behind you. But when a booming voice echoed from downstairs, you knew it was probably a little too long for comfort.
“Dinner’s ready!” San’s shout cut through the quiet. You turned to face Seonghwa, and of course, his expression was anything but readable. Unlike yours, which you were sure was covered in pink, with wide eyes and a shallow breath.
“I—LET'S GET THIS PARTY STARTED!!” Mingi’s enthusiastic bellow cuts off your words before you could even speak them. A wave of sound crashing against the moment you and Seonghwa were experiencing.
Seonghwa stepped aside, gesturing towards the door. “Go on. I'll be down soon.”
You walked past him for the door, taking in the lingering scent of his cologne. A mixture of sweet vanilla, coffee and something faintly spicy. He smelled intoxicating. But you shook your thoughts, heading for the stairs, your fingers naturally gravitated towards the foreign object around your neck, feeling the cool metal settled snuggly against your collarbone.
I knew you’d like it.
His soft words played on loop in your head. The way he stood closer, the way you swore you could hear his heart beat quicken along with your own. The words swirled in your mind, a deciphering puzzle you couldn’t quite place. Yet, a warmth bloomed in your chest, a quiet satisfaction that the boys had thought of you, that Seonghwa had thought of you and felt the need to give you a gift personally… Maybe he wasn’t such a brooding bad boy like everyone lets out to be.
The night unfolded in a blur of loud chatter, liquor and food everywhere and a rhythmic thump of music that sits in your chest like it was born to be there. This wasn’t an average frat party by any means, there wasn’t a crowd of drunk people, minus Mingi, and an overwhelming amount of mistakes being made that many people would either regret or not remember by the morning. No, tonight was… intimate, filled with board games, competitive video games and casual conversations ending in bursts of laughter.
It almost felt domestic in a way.
Having Hongjoong lean against you, shoulder to shoulder on the couples' couch. Or helping Yeosang and Wooyoung finish up dinner before serving it to the hungry beasts known as your friends. The initial awkwardness melted away from this morning, having been replaced by a comfortable camaraderie. You’d never admit it, but Jongho was right.
“Alright, who’s ready for a real game?” Wooyoung’s voice sliced through the relaxed atmosphere, a mischievous glint in his foxy eyes. He held up a strange, circular board, adorned with colourful squares and cryptic symbols. You couldn't help but tilt your head in confusion. “Truth, Dare, or Strike.”
“What's strike?” The thought slipped from your tongue before you could think. And oh how the smile only grew wider on Wooyoung’s face as he picked up the dice.
“So, you roll,” he explained devilishly. “Move your piece. Land on truth or dare, you pick a card from each pile.” He gestured to the purple and green stacks, letting you watch as Yunho and Yeosang shuffle them. “But if you land on strike…” He taps the board, his voice dropping to almost a whisper.
“You pick a black card…” Seonghwa’s voice made you jump as you turned slightly to see him and Hongjoong come back from the kitchen after clearing the table. His voice was buttery and suggestive, sending shivers down your spine. But before you could loom with any unnecessary thoughts, Jongho picked up the dice and rolled, letting the game finally begin.
Jongho landed on truth, admitting he had a secret drawer of sex toys that the card had suggested. San, on a dare, did a surprisingly and gracefully tame handstand... Most cards you found weren’t all ‘bad’ or ‘raunchy’ but more classical truths and dares. Well, what would you even class as basic truth or dare? You don’t know. But Mingi was the first to pull a strike card, having to make out with the person next to him. Yunho to be exact… which he did a little too eagerly. You squirmed when you watched the two giants fight for whose tongue went in whose mouth… it shouldn’t have been that erotic, watching your two friends go at it… But…
“Your turn.” Jongho nudged you a little, making you snap out of your thoughts. Your eyes widened as you looked next to you, god you were staring, and you didn’t notice. You felt yourself grow pinker than Hongjoong’s pretty drink as you gulped.
“I uh… Let me just refill my drink. I’ll be right back.” You stood a little too quickly and fled to the kitchen a little too promptly, but you didn’t think too far as you slipped away from prying eyes. Once in the kitchen, you spotted San leaning against the counter, nursing a glass of something dark as he waited for something in the microwave. You ignored him at first, looking in the fridge for something stronger than your normal stuff. Just something to take off the edge, you know, something a little more…
“Having fun?” San’s voice was a deep whisper that you only barely heard over the music that still played in the empty lounge room on the forgotten TV.
“Uh yeah.. Yeah I’m having fun..” Your eyes never left the shelves in front of you, looking at all the rows of liquor.
“More than you expected, hmm?” San poured something into a glass before walking over to the fridge, his chest grazing your back slightly. This made you stiffen as he moved you aside, reaching for the freezer door and opening it. Neither of you spoke for a moment. Just simply watched as the man dropped a few ice cubes into the crimson drink. “Here.”
You took the drink in hand, ignoring San’s knowing look. How he was able to read people's minds still beats you. But nonetheless, you took it. “Don't tell Jongho. But yes, he was right.”
The sly smirk on San’s features beamed as he took a sip of his own drink. His eyes never left yours as he watched you take a gulp of your own, noticing you grimace slightly at the strong taste. “What the actual fuck is this?!”
"Damn, sweetheart, didn't think you'd react like that.” San laughed, a full belly laugh. It was deep in his throat as he covered his mouth with his hand. “You wanted something stronger, right? Doesn't mean it'll taste better.”
“Fuck me.” You choked, looking for some water in the fridge to wash it down. But San stopped you, reaching for a pink bottle of alcohol, he wiggled it in your face. “What now?”
Your groan made San's smile grow as his eyebrow cocked. His head tilting to the side slightly like a cat, “Shot this, and if you do…” he leant down to your ear, his lips grazing your lobe, “I'll tell you a very important secret.”
Your interest suddenly peaked as you eyed the bottle. “One shot?"
“Just one.” He clarified.
You thought for a moment, watching his dark expression twist with a hint of something you couldn't quite pick out. “Hmmm… Deal.” Nodding your head, you eyed him as he grabbed two shot glasses from the cabinet. This was gonna be interesting…
While San is perfectly distracting you, Hongjoong, on the other hand—with a devilish smile playing on his lips—swiftly flicked through the cards on the table in front of him. Yunho and Jongho joined him as Yun grabbed the truth and Jong the dare pile. Their fingers were nimble and quick, shuffling all the piles, replacing a few at the top with very specific cards. Hongjoong exchanged a knowing glance with Seonghwa, a silent understanding passing between them. The boy's plan was simple really… They had this idea for months now, long night discussions and other nights filled with a little more heated activities led to all the men here wanting one thing…
You.
It was only going to be a little push, a nudge even, that’s all they needed. Just to see if you'd actually break. See if you were on the same level as all of them. To see if you truly would be theirs. "Oh, this is gonna be fun.”
Wooyoung’s voice was cheeky as he gazed at the cards Yunho and Jongho picked. The boys knew where you were standing on the board, you'd most likely land on Dare or Strike with your roll. But just in case you roll a really low number, Yunho took the liberty to look for a perfect truth card.
All three men were quick at finding what they wanted before placing the decks back as if they were never touched. Ironically, this was just as you finally walked back into the dining room, the clinking of your cup against the glass bowl filled with popcorn announcing your presence. San was close behind, and his stare was caught quickly by the two older men. Hongjoong nodded slightly, not enough for you to notice but enough for San to know the plan was going perfectly.
You sat down next to Seonghwa, not noticing he swapped spots with Jongho. Picking up the dice, you note the almost complete silence, like there was anticipation in the air for what you might roll. “Are you all holding your breath, or has the alcohol finally hit me?” You tried to give a little cheek, but you could have sworn all the boys were darker, more… predatory than normal…
“We are just curious what you might land on, sweetheart.” Mingi suddenly sounded way too sober for your liking. Your hand didn’t stop the shaking motion as your eyes narrowed at Mingi, but you chose to let the dice fly despite the odd feeling brewing in your stomach. They tumbled across the board, clattering to a stop…
"Six," Jongho casually announced, his expression never changing. But there was something, like the room let out the breath she thought it was holding, and as her little pawn landed on the square, she swore she heard a groan.
“Dare…”
A collective gasp—as if they didn’t just plan all this—quickly followed by a chorus of excited chatters filled the room. But your stomach only lurched, suddenly nervous at what the card might suggest. And if it was anything like the previous two cards… you were most likely done for. Reaching for the pile, your fingers trembled slightly. The card felt too cool, too smooth, too… heavy. You flipped it over away from prying eyes.
Your eyes nearly bulged out of your skull when you saw the card. “Nope. Absolutely not. I am not doing that.”
The group chuckled, half of them saying it can't be that bad while the others were curious what the card said. Jongho took the card from you, and what he read made his ears turn red. “Strip in front of the crowd.”
“Oh fuck yeah.” Mingi couldn’t help but hiccup out. Making your face deepen in the crimson that already pained it.
“No! I’m not getting naked!” You huffed with a slight twang of laughter. You loved your boys, yes. But getting bare in front of eight very hot men was not on your list tonight.
“Alright. You can pass, Sweetheart.” The crowd went quiet as Hongjoong spoke. “But that means you gotta pick up two strike cards this time.” It was like Hongjong's prayers had been answered, given he put the more... Harsher cards on top of the strike pile.
You go to grab the two cards, but the orange-haired male stops you. “But once you take these two, you can't undo it. You’ll have to do these cards.”
For a moment you questioned if getting naked in front of the boys for a moment was better than what these two cards could entail… but after another breath left your lungs, you knew you were willing to risk it. “I’m good.”
Picking up both cards, you stared at them. And in bold, stark letters it read. “Spit take and…Seven minutes in hell.” Your breath hitched.
A sly murmur bubbled under Wooyoung's breath as he whispered out, "Oh, these ones..”
Yeosang had to kick his foot slightly to get him to shut up. Luckily your shaky sigh covered up the young man's words, making him go unnoticed by you. You already knew what the first card was asking you, and that required you to roll to see how many people would participate. But it was the second card that had you more intrigued… “Go to a secluded room with the person to your left. And for seven minutes, they can do whatever they want to you.” with a little note on the corner, a smiley face with a speech bubble that says ‘remember consent is key’... as if that was the problem at hand right now.
Your shaky gaze suddenly snapped to Seonghwa, seeing him seated calmly beside you. And even though his expression was unreadable… His eyes were a different story. They were intense, dark and as they met your own, you noticed the lust dripping from them. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face, almost like a silent promise. And in that moment, you knew. This man, with his quiet intensity and unsettling charm, was about to completely ruin you.
“Roll.” Was all Seonghwa said as he stood, picking up his beer to take a swing of it as he walked to the archway of the dining room. You froze for a moment, not really registering what was going on. It wasn’t until Jongho’s soft, warm hand squeezed your thigh that you finally focused your eyes and looked around the room.
“You okay?” His voice was whispered, but you simply nodded your head, standing up abruptly before snatching the dice off the table.
“I’m good.” You gave your best friend a smile before rolling the red dice, letting them skate across the table, but as they came to a halt, the numbers they landed on were almost too good to be true.
Five and three….
Everything passed like a blur as Seonghwa extended his hand out for you to take. You didn’t even hear the hollers and chants from the other men as your fingers intertwined with Hwa’s soft ones. San had whispered something into the older man’s ear as he passed, and you vaguely heard Jongho say they’ll do the rest of your challenge when you come back…
But all you could think about right now was how you let Seonghwa pull you through the house. Your legs felt strangely heavy as he guided you towards the studio just opposite the kitchen and dining room. He stepped inside first, holding the door open so you could slip in besides him. The soft lamplight cast his features in shadow, making him appear even more mysterious in the reddish, purplish lighting. The studio wasn’t small by any means, supporting a large desk, couch and even a mini fridge. Hongjoong spent most of his time here, the others rarely entertaining themselves with all the electronics that Hongjoong had set up meticulously. But now the room was going to be used for something other than soundboard production. It was going to be used for something far more… erotic.
You hesitated at the threshold, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within you… anticipation, a hint of nervousness, and a strange, undeniable thrill of what-ifs and maybes. What could the Park Seonghwa possibly do in seven minutes?
“Come on,” he urged, his voice a low invitation. “Time starts now...”
You crossed the threshold, the door clicking shut behind you with a soft thud. And for a split second you thought you heard the lock. But you paid no mind as you felt the air thicken in your lungs, making it harder to breathe as you took in every detail of the room around you. All the while, Seonghwa never took his gaze off of you. Taking a swig of his beer, and his back facing the door, his burning presence filled the cramped space so much your body, soul and mind felt like they were oozing him… You could hear the way his throat worked as he swallowed more of his drink until he was empty, setting the bottle down on the edge of the deck with an anticipatory thump.
“You seem nervous…” He whispered, stepping closer until his chest grazed your back. “Why are you shaking, hmm?”
"I'm not shaking." You lied through your teeth, your voice trembling slightly. "It’s just… cold in here."
“Ah.” Seonghwa said softly, reaching out with his fingers to brush his knuckles gently across your neck. The contact felt like a jolt of electricity had suddenly coursed through your veins. “You know… Liars get punished in this room.”
"I don't know what you're talking about," you whispered, not taking your eyes off the blank wall in front of you. Not daring to look back. To look at him.
Seonghwa stepped closer, his feet pushing yours apart so he could almost put his knee between your legs as his chest became snug to your shoulder blades. He leant down, his lips only just ghosting over the shell of your ear, and then you felt the hotness of his breath as he spoke, “Don’t play dumb now, sweet bunny.”
Oh, that was new…
The pet name sent shivers down your spine as his voice turned sweet, almost melodic. “I see the way you look at me. The way you clench your perfect fucking thighs whenever you're around here. You act all shy, but I bet there's a slut somewhere inside begging for relief. Did you think that necklace only meant we were friends?"
“I…I thought.”
“What? You were in some sort of safe zone? You aren’t what we want because you’re Jong’s best friend.” Seonghwa interrupted your words as you felt his hand move to the nape of your neck, his thumb pressing gently on your windpipe. "There’s nothing safe about the way we think about you. I’ve spent weeks imagining exactly what I’m going to do to you in this very room. And now, the rules say I can do anything."
Did he just say we?
“S-seonghwa what… Ah!” You gasped before you could even protest any thought or feelings, letting yourself feel his teeth latched onto your shoulder and hand tighten around your neck. He began to kiss you, slow and agonisingly soft, his tongue tracing the line of your ear, to your jaw, down to the patches of skin on your neck his hand was not covering.
"I’ve been so patient…” He practically moaned your name in your ear. “We’ve watched you walk around this house in those cute little outfits. Pastels, cotton. Argh… “ He groaned, rutting his hips against your ass. “You always look so soft, such a pretty bunny. You knew exactly what you were doing to us. Did it make you feel powerful, hmm? Knowing we’re all starving for you?"
Your brain was no longer processing what he was saying, no, all you could think about was how he held you. How he was touching you. How you could feel the outline of his straining cock on your backside and how he growled and begged behind you. “S-seonghwa, please.”
"Please, what?" he asked, stepping a little away, letting you feel slightly empty. His hand loosened on your windpipe before swinging you around until you were facing him. And oh, did his expression make you want to melt. His eyes blown out, his jaw clenched as he awaited you to finally answer him… finally give him something. Anything!!
“Do. Not. Stop.” You punctuated every word, letting him read each one from your lips. His mouth crashed onto your feverishly.. It wasn't a gentle kiss. No, it was an invasion. He tasted like a devilish mixture of bitter hops and lust. His tongue pushing past your lips to claim you with a desperate hunger. Holding you steady by your jaw, he tilted your head as he stood up straight, making you fight to keep your lips latched. He wanted you to feel what he had been feeling for months. Being so close to touch… but not close enough to call you his.
Any sweetness you thought might come out of the usually calm man vanished, leaving a new version of Seonghwa that made your skin burn for more. And just like that he pulled completely away from you, breathing hard. “Couch. Now.”
"What?"
"I said get on the couch. Legs open. Now." Gone was the cheeky darkness in his tone, now being replaced with something almost sadistic. A shiver of fear and excitement trickled down your spine.
You obeyed.
Your movements, ever clumsy as you scrambled onto the leather. The material was freezing against your fiery skin, but the heat radiating from Seonghwa was far more overwhelming. He did not wait as he moved into action. No, warning, not words. The thud was deafening over the music beyond the door as he fell to his knees. He was acting like a starved man on a mission, and nothing was going to get in his way with his reward.
Moving between your knees, his hands grabbed a hand full of your thighs, forcing them wide without a second thought. You felt his fingers dig into flesh and nails threaten to draw blood. Maybe starved wasn’t the word for the way Seonghwa acted in this moment… No, he was more like,
Insane. Drunk. Fanatical and fixated.
"Oh, look at you," he hissed, his gaze fixed on the dampness already staining your underwear that hid so prettily beneath your skirt. "So ready for me. After all that acting, all this being shy… you’re dripping like a whore."
He didn't waste time with more words. Not leaving any room for even a little yelp as he yanked your soft cotton panties to the side, exposing your aching cunt to the cool air of the room. He didn’t use his fingers first. He didn’t tease or linger. No, your head fell back as soon as you felt his thick nose push against your clit, letting him bury his face into your heat. The first lick was a long, broad stroke that made your back arch almost right off the couch. You’ve never felt such a feeling, something as delicious as someone's tongue lapping you up like it was their favourite meal. And you were his. As you let out a strangled cry, your fingers knotting in his hair, Seonghwa knew he was done for. He would eat you out every day for breakfast, lunch and dinner if you let him.
"You’re so sweet," Seonghwa mumbled against your skin, his voice muffled. "I’m going to eat every drop of you. I want to taste how much you’ve been wanting this, sweetheart." He became a man possessed. His tongue was relentless, flicking over your clit with a precision that was borderline cruel. Sucking on you intensely, his soft hums created the perfect vibration that made your toes curl and vision spot. The tension in the room changed with each jagged breath. The wet, rhythmic sloppy sounds of his tongue against your folds, the sharp gasps you couldn't suppress, and the heavy thud of your hearts against each chest were enough to make you both spiral.
"Open wider," he growled, pulling back for a second to slap your inner thigh as you tried to close them around his head, the sound echoing in the small room. "Keep them open for me, bunny. I want to see everything."
"I-It's too much," you gulped air in as you spoke, your head tossing back and forth as your eyes screwed themselves shut. “Seonghwa, I can’t.”
"Yes, you can," he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register that made your cunt clench. And that's when you felt it, the sudden intrusion making you yelp. He shoved two fingers tightly inside your wet hole as he began pumping them hard and fast, his thumb never leaving your clit. Your hips bucked without a second thought, almost having a mind of their own, chasing pleasure your body was so desperately desiring. "I want you to squirt for me, sweetheart. I want to see you lose control completely.”
"I... I’ve never done that," you panted, your voice breaking as you took in each thrust of his long digits. "I don't think I can."
Seonghwa’s gaze snapped up at you, a predatory smirk painting his features as his fingers seemingly became more frantic inside you. “Never?.. Oh, bunny. What am I going to do with you?”
He sat up straighter, his whole body towering your bent one. His lips grazed your ear, letting you hear the soft panting from him over the squelch sound. “I guess I'll have to be the first one to make that happen, huh? I'm not letting you off this couch until you're dripping all over me. Got it."
You couldn’t help but nod, letting him have his way, as he went back to his couched position. His tongue licked a strip up your cunt before settling on your clit. His fingers hooked deep, finding the spot that made your hip jerk and high pitch higher. He was relentless, abusing your sensitive flesh with a focus that was terrifying and utterly arousing. You could quickly feel the foreign tension build, a pressure in your lower abdomen that felt like a dam about to burst. Trying your best to settle your breathing, you glanced over his broad shoulders, and that's when you noticed the digital clock on the desk. The numbers glowing crimson in your spotted vision.
“H-hwa.” You choked out, your voice barely above a whisper as moans filled the void. “The time… Time. Fuck. Seven minutes is over.”
Seonghwa didn't even look up. He just growled low in his throat, his teeth grazing your inner thigh before he went back to devouring you. "Do I have to be blunt with you too, bunny?" His voice thick with lust, it sent a shiver down your spine. "And here I thought you were smart.”
Your eyes widened in shock when he looked up at you, his mouth and nose already glistening from your juices. You wanted to feel embarrassed, but Seonghwa’s tone was quick to distract you. “The clock doesn't matter. I decide when we’re done. And we are nowhere near done."
He sped up. His fingers were a blur, the sound of air being pushed out of your soaked pussy with every thrust creating a wet, slapping noise. He was punishing you now, his movements rough and demanding. He wanted… Needed you to let go. To feel everything all at once. To feel nothing but him.
"Come on, baby. Give it to me," he commanded. "Squirt for me, you little slut. Show me how much you want the rest of us. Want me."
The unfamiliar sensation brewing in your gut finally snapped, leaving a white-spotted explosion to cloud your vision. Your body convulsed, your legs locking around his head as a torrent of fluid erupted from you, splashing across his face, his chest, and the leather of the couch. You sobbed, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as a long, high-pitched sound erupted from your chest.
Seonghwa didn't move. He stayed there for a long moment, letting your tremors subside while his face still pressed against your core. When he finally did pull back, though, he was covered in you. Your scent was heavy in the air, musky, sweet, and metallic. He wiped a stray drop from his lip and licked it off his finger, his eyes never leaving yours as he did. He looked hypnotised, completely consumed with the idea of you.
"Look at that bunny," he whispered, his voice dark as he massaged your thighs. "Look what you did for me."
Feeling accomplished, Seonghwa stood abruptly. You went to follow him without a thought, but he quickly reached out, landing a playful but sharp slap on your clenching cunt. The sting of it brought you crashing back to reality… Only slight. Watching him step away, leaving you shivering and vulnerable on the couch.
"Stay." Was all he said as he walked over to the desk.
Picking up his beer bottle, he took a long, slow swing of the last of his beer, eyes tracking the way your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath. He looked down at the bottle, then back at you, a slow, cruel idea forming in his expression.
Your eyes never left him as he watched you. It made you feel hot, feel… seen. From always being the one to never be looked at. You not having a good enough status in school. Being the forgotten kid. Or the nerd, the outcast. The list goes on, from what you've been called in your life… but right now. All of Seonghwa's attention was on you. The Park Seonghwa. It made you feel desirable. Made you feel powerful.
"You like being watched, don't you?" he asked as if he were reading your mind, walking back towards you painfully slow. "You like the idea of being wanted, hmm? Want by me… by us?”
There it was again, the hinting of the other boys, only just a few feet away from this very room. It made you remember what San had said in the kitchen only twenty minutes ago.
"What kind of game, San?" You leant against the countertop with your arms crossed, still feeling the burn of the shot you just took. “If this is some kinda of floor shot again. I told Wooyoung a million times. No.”
San laughed, the sound vibrating against you while he stayed standing so close to you that your elbows were touching. "No, no… nothing like that….Without trying to freak you out."
“You're already freaking me out."
"Okay, okay.” San’s tone suddenly became serious. “There's a reason for that.” He points to the necklace on your neck. “And Seonghwa is gonna teach you later what the reason is. I just want you to know…”
San moves before you could think, hands on either side of you, caging you between his large body and the tabletop. “We all care for you. And we all want something. But trying to tell you has been difficult. We don't want to scare you away.”
You suddenly felt completely sober as you stared up at the man in front of you. Was he trying to say what you think he was? Did you just drink too much and now you're misinterpreting his words? "San… what are you trying to say?”
"Just be open-minded… Know that we all love you.” San leant down to your ear, whispering the last bit of his sentence, letting you smell the bourbon on his hot breath. "And the studio is soundproofed. No one hears a thing once that door locks.”
“I…” Your mouth became tacky while your mind drew a blank. This was what San was talking about. What he meant by all of them loving you…
“Tell me the truth, baby. Did you ever think about me while you fuck yourself on those pathetic pieces of plastic? Or maybe more than just me? What about the others? Ever thought about your best friend, huh? Dreamed of Jongho’s cock in you just as much as I dreamt of tasting this perfect pussy?"
You turned your head away, your face flushing a deep crimson. "I... What…."
Seonghwa has gone mad, not liking your answer. Gipping the neck of the beer bottle, he chuckled… a cruel, dark vibration from the pit of his chest. “I asked you a question, Sweetheart.”
This time the pet name that rolled off his tongue wasn't filled with any hint of sweetness. No, this time it was filled with nothing but mockery. He wanted to get under your skin just like you have him. Without a word, he took two large steps towards you before nudging your legs further apart with his legs.
“Answer me.” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper as he began ripping at your clothes until your lower half was completely bare and your shirt was discarded, leaving you in your soft pink cotton bra. His free hand gripped your ankle, spreading your legs open further to let him press the cold, rounded rim of the bottle against your wet entrance.
"Seonghwa, w-what are you doing?" You asked, your eyes widening as you felt the cold glass begin to slide inside you.
"I'm making sure you're paying attention," he replied bluntly. Pushing the bottle deeper, you could feel the cold sensation of the glass contrasting sharply with the heat of your overworked wall. "Does that feel good? Or is it too cold? Maybe you’d prefer something warmer. Something human, hmm?”
He began to move the bottle in and out, the glass creating a suction that made a distinct, wet popping sound every time it almost slipped out. The feeling was… bizarre, invasive and oh so fucking erotic. You were too focused on the sensation of the bottle to speak. It was stretching you the way you needed, filling you in a way that felt foreign and overwhelming in the best way. You let out a soft moan, your eyes fluttering shut. Seonghwa's expression darkened. Letting go of your ankle, he ripped your bra down, letting your breasts spill free. He watched them move as his pace quickened before giving them a harsh slap, the impact making you yelp in surprise and pain.
“Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck.” Your lips finally fell loose as your legs hugged tightly around Seonghwa’s firm hips. Leaning down, Seonghwa's teeth were bared on your neck, making sure he marked you anyway he could. Whether it was teeth marks, hickeys, or blood being drawn, he needed it all.
“So tight, filthy little bunny.” He hissed as he quickened his pace, his wrist growing almost tired at the odd angle of how he was holding the foreign object. “I bet you’re imagining it’s my cock, huh? Or maybe someone else's? Do you want all our cocks, baby? Come on, you can tell me. Don’t be shy now. Be a good girl.”
“H-Hwa… I.” Tears stained your face, stinging your red cheeks. You didn’t want to admit anything, your heart ached while your mind felt dizzy. The push and pull Seonghwa gave you was almost strong enough to give you whiplash.
“You can do it, bunny. Scream it out, let the others know exactly how you feel.”
And even though you shook your head no as he sank the top of the beer bottle deeper, pressing his thumb to your clit for firmer, you felt a fire brew in the pit of your stomach. Because you knew, he knew your answer. Like he could read your every thought. You weren’t just interested in the broody frat boy…. You were interested in his whole fraternity.
"YES!" You finally screamed as he gave your tits another love tap. The confession burst out of you like a physical weight as you squirted all over the beer bottle and Seonghwa’s hand. "I think about all of you! I want all of you! Is that what you wanted to hear?”
Seonghwa froze—the bottle still buried deep inside your abused cunt—a slow, terrifying grin spreading across his perfect features. There was a hint of warmth to it. Maybe even a slight show of sympathy. But over all that, he looked like an animal who had finally trapped his prey where he wanted.
"All of us," he repeated, his voice like velvet over gravel. "Good. That’s what I like to hear… But there is now one little problem...” He pulled the bottle out of you, throwing it somewhere in the room. If you weren’t so focused on Hwa your eyes would have checked to see if the glass would break, but luckily it landed on the carpet and no shatter followed. “You’ve been keeping a secret since we’ve been here…"
"What secrets?" you whispered, your heart hammering against your ribs.
"San," Seonghwa said, his eyes narrowing. "He told you something, did he. Fucker can’t keep a secret to save his life.”
You couldn’t help but bite your lip, the guilt written clearly on your face. "San told me, you wanted to… teach me... About the necklace. But what was it, I promise.” The silence in the room was absolute. The only sound was the faint hum of the equipment and the distant, muffled beat of the music from outside. You could see the way Seonghwa tensed slightly… he didn’t believe you. Not entirely anyway. His eyes were ice cold, focused with rage that made you want to shrink into the leather beneath you.
“Did you know I’d fuck you tonight?” He said so bluntly that it almost gave you whiplash. “Did he tell you we all like you?” The words came out slowly and dangerously. “What about that we rigged the cards so one of us could break you enough that you’d finally understand you are ours…”
“I…No..” Your mouth went dry as you tried to speak, but Seonghwa cut you off anyway.
He stood up, his breathing ragged, his chest heaving with fury. “Did he think this was a game? We had a plan.” Seonghwa passed for a moment, leaving you to worry. But before you could say anything, he grabbed you by the arm, his grip bruising as he hauled you off the couch, shoving you toward the mahogany desk.
"Hands on the desk," he commanded. "Now."
"Seonghwa, wait, what I—"
"I said hands on the desk!" he roared. You obeyed, your palms slapping against the cold, polished wood. You were trembling violently now, the reality of his anger settling over you. You heard the sound of a zipper, the rustle of fabric and something like ripping plastic... Then the heat of him was behind you, pressing against your backside intensely. “I’m gonna have words with him later. But right now…”
His lips grazed the shell of your ear. “I need you to take a deep breath.” He didn’t wait for a response. He didn’t need to, grabbing your hips, with his fingers digging into the bones, he drove himself into you with one single brutal thrust that had your vision blurring. You let out a sharp cry, tears already staining your puffy cheeks as your head leaned back onto his shoulder. Seonghwa was so thick compared to the beer bottle. He seemed to stretch you beyond your limits. Well, that's what it felt like. He didn't give you time to adjust as he began to fuck you with a primal aggression. His body slamming into your pussy with a rhythmic, meat-on-meat thud that if you weren’t so turned on, you’d be embarrassed.
“You are even more perfect than I imagined,” he growled into your ear, his teeth grazing your lobe. "I'm going to fuck you until you forget your own name. I'm going to mark you so everyone down the hall knows who got you first.”
His declaration made your head spin. The knowledge that this was not just a one-time thing. That this was just the beginning of something you couldn’t even explain… and that everyone down the hall was just dying to join in. He was relentless. Every thrust felt like a challenge, a violent reassertion of dominance, of possession, that even though there was an agreement, he was going to show off what he could do for you. The desk creaked under the weight of your bodies, and the sound of your skin slapping together and panting breath filled the room. You could feel the friction building in the pit of your stomach, the raw, unpolished sensation of his cock deep inside you, driving you towards the edge. But something was missing… You needed something else... Something more.
"Please," you sobbed, your fingers clawing at the wood of the desk, leaving scratch marks in the varnish. "More. Seonghwa, please, give me more… I need..."
"What do you need, baby. Tell me what you want?" His voice was so soft compared to before, there was a caring tone lacing each word, and it only made you melt more.
“I want to feel you… I need to feel you when you cum in me.” You had no idea how you were speaking so freely, stocking it up to alcohol and the blindness of sex that made you throw your filter out the window. But it was the truth, you were craving to have him use you completely.
He reached back and slapped your ass, the sound sharp and echoing as he chuckled. The sting only fueled your desire more. And he did it again, harder this time, leaving the red imprint of his hand on your skin before pulling out for a moment. "Is this what you wanted? Be claimed. Be filled with me…"
He tore off the condom, showing it somewhere in the room, before completely trapping you against the desk, pushing off items he did not even bother to note, so he could make a perfect clearing just for your perfect body. “I told you there was a slut deep down somewhere. She just needed the motivation to come out.”
He didn't hold back this time. He increased the pace until he was a blur of motion on top of you, his cock slid in and out with a wet, squelching sound that filled the room as he hit right where you needed every time. You felt your vision spot and your throat itch from the screaming. But it was when he reached around and gripped your neck, pulling your head up so he could see your face as he destroyed you, that you swore you saw stars.
“Look at you, sweetheart.” He growled, “I want to see you. I want you to know exactly who’s doing this to you. Not San. Not any of the others yet… just me and me alone."
His mouth latched onto you, biting into your shoulder hard. His teeth sank deep into the skin, leaving a jagged, purple bruise. He moved to your neck, avoiding his hand as he sucked and bit until you were completely covered in hickeys that would take weeks to fade and be a bitch to cover. He was marking his territory, claiming every inch of you with a violence that was as much about possession as it was about pleasure. You felt his free hand leave your hip and snake between your legs before landing on your oversensitve bud. The friction was becoming intense, the heat between you nearly unbearable. And as Seonghwa felt your walls flutter around his aching cock, he knew you were done for.
“Come on, bunny. Be a good girl and come on my cock…” His tongue licked a strip of sweaty skin on your neck, “I’ll only empty my load into this cunt once you cum.”
"Seonghwa!" you aren’t even sure if you screamed, cried, or whispered. Your mind was so far gone as you felt your orgasm take hold. It was more intense than the first few ones this evening, a rolling wave of pleasure and pain that made your legs give out entirely. He followed you a second later. He delivered a final blow of his hips, stilling himself deep inside you as his body vibrated with the effort. Letting out a low, guttural moan as he filled you with hot, thick pulses of cum. You felt it all, the way it settled in you, the way it began to drip around his cock and down your dangling legs. It felt heavenly. He held you there for a moment, pinned against the desk, his weight crushing you as you both struggled to breathe.
The room fell silent again, but this time it was soft. Calm. and gentle, only leaving space for the sound of ragged breathing and the distant, ever-present bass from across the hall. Seonghwa didn't pull out immediately. He stayed buried inside you just a little longer, his head resting on your shoulder, his sweat dripping onto your back as he slowly kissed your shoulder blades, then your spine, and neck. When he finally did move, it was slow and deliberate. He withdrew with the sound of his cock popping out of your soaked pussy. He eyed the way his cum dripped out of you and the way you lay on the desk limp, your muscles twitching and your skin covered in his marks.
To him, you looked absolutely perfect.
Seonghwa stood over you, adjusting his clothes, while letting you take a moment to breathe. And then he looked down at you again, once he was done collecting your clothes he had thrown around the room, his eyes still dark, but the burning rage had been replaced by a quiet, smug satisfaction.
He had you, and he couldn’t wait to see the looks on the others' faces when they saw you completely and utterly ruined.
summary: in which watching your boyfriend throw ass at seonghwa has never left you more turned on in your life
warning: sub bottom mingi, top reader, oral, pegging, anal fingering, anal
genre: smut
pairing: idol mingi x afab reader
word count: 2.1k
masterlist
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You watched. Its all you could do. You could vaguely hear Wooyoung squealing somewhere around you backstage. Mingi had told you days ago that him and Seonghwa would do troublemaker for the fanmeet. He had been vague about it. Had joked to atinys that they would yell at him to stop. But nothing…. Nothing prepared you for the actual performance.
Your boyfriend was throwing ass at Seonghwa who was trying very hard to not laugh as Mingi did the woman’s part of the performance a little too well. And you were frozen to the spot. Just…. watching. The laughter of Yunho, San and Jongho joined Wooyoung but you ignored them. Because…. It wasn’t funny. You were unknowingly clenching your thighs together as Mingi dropped down low. “What the fuck….”
“You’re telling me.” Wooyoung nudged you with his shoulder. “Your man is in heat or something.” Another round of laughter came from him and Yunho as all you could think about now as your boyfriend pulled Seonghwa closer, smirking, biting his bottom lip…. was that little box at the bottom of your closet you bought months ago. Sitting untouched. Unused. Mingi had no idea about the contents of that box. No idea you bought it because after watching him during dance practice one day…. watching the way his hips move…. the way his ass moves…. made you want nothing more than to fuck him like he fucks you.
And you knew he’d come home with you after the fanmeet was over. He always did when they had no major schedules consistently. You blinked as the fans cheered loud as Seonghwa and Mingi finished their performance and came giggling and laughing together backstage. You watched Mingi accept a towel from Yunho, wiping at the sweat that had gathered on his face and suddenly avoided his gaze when he looked towards you. Because he’d know. He would take one good look at you and know you were turned on.
“Baby…”
Fuck! He made his way towards you, hands sliding around your waist before moving to grip at your hip much like the way he had done in the choreo with Seonghwa. You could feel him lean his head down, nuzzling at your neck, planting a soft kiss there. “Another hour and we’ll be done.” Another kiss. “Mhmm… I’m going back to your place. Pretty sure I can’t look Hwa in the eye again for a while.” He was joking, still kissing at your neck when you said. It hadn’t registered you said anything at first. “I want to try something tonight.” Mingi smirked, hand coming around gently grab your chin and tilt your back to make you look up at him. “Yeah?”
You stated up at him, watching the way a lone drop of swear traces down the side of his face. “Yeah.” You returned his smirk. He had no idea what he was in for. “Remember…” you searched his eyes, gaze falling to his lips. “That time you joked about…” you bit your bottom lip and waited until Hongjoong passed by. “wanted to be pegged?”
Mingi’s smirk vanished. He blinked once. Twice. Your words resurfacing a memory he had forgotten about. Then, much to your surprise, he grinned, lowering his face right to yours, nose touching. “You want to fuck me, baby?” Now your smirk vanished. “What?” He teased. “You watched me out there…. all that turn you on?” You didn’t answer. Instead, you tugged his bottom between your teeth, reaching back to palm at his bulge in his pants. You let his lip go and breathed against his mouth. “You gonna scream for me tonight, Mingi?”
Seonghwa, who had just walked by the two of you, froze. “I’ve heard too much.” He avoided looking at either of you as continued towards Hongjoong who handed him a bottle of water.
Mingi didn’t even acknowledge him. His eyes had darkened and that damn smirk returned. “If you think you can make me.”
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The door to your apartment clicked shut behind you both, the sound of your footsteps leading the way down the hall. Mingi followed close, his tall frame moving with that easy grace, eyes fixed on you as you stepped into your bedroom and went straight to your closet, pulling out the box you had tucked away, and set it on the bed. When you lifted the lid, the strap on lay there in clear view, the thick purple dildo attached and ready.
Mingi stepped forward without hesitation, long fingers closing around the harness, lifting it to examine the silicone shaft. He turned it in his hands, gaze running over every inch before he started buckling the straps together. Once it was assembled he looked at you, voice low and steady. “Just so you know… I wasn’t joking about wanting this.” You moved toward each other at the same time. Your hands found the hem of his shirt while his reached for yours. Clothes came off in quick succession, his still sweat damp shirt peeled away to reveal the lean, cut lines of his torso, your own shirt and bra following until skin met skin.
Mingi’s pants dropped next, then his briefs, leaving him bare as he sank to his knees in front of you, palms sliding up your thighs as he looked up at you. “Need to taste you first.” He leaned tugged at your shorts, dragging them and the black lace panties you had in off before leaning in, tongue dragging a slow, wet stripe through your folds before pushing inside you. The heat of his mouth sealed over your clit, sucking firmly while his tongue thrust deeper, curling and stroking. Your fingers threaded into his short hair, gripping tight as you rolled your hips against his face making Mingi moan into you, the vibration traveling straight through your core.
He kept the rhythm steady, tongue fucking you open while his lips worked your clit, sucking harder each time you ground down and your thighs started to shake. Pleasure built fast and sharp until it crested and you came with a broken sound, hips jerking, holding his head in place as your pussy pulsed around his tongue. He stayed there, licking you through every aftershock until you finally loosened your grip and let him pull back.
Mingi reached for the strap on as he stood just long enough to fasten the harness around your hips himself, adjusting the buckles until the dildo sat snug and ready. His hands lingered on your waist, thumbs stroking your skin before he dropped to his knees again and looked back up at you, eyes locked on yours, then leaned forward and took the head of the silicone dick into his mouth. His plump lips stretched around it, tongue swirling as he worked more of the length inside, sucking wetly until spit glistened along the shaft as he bobbed his head, taking it deeper each time.
You watched your 6ft boyfriend on his knees, throat working around the toy, and felt heat flood between your legs all over again. “You really did want this, didn’t you?” Mingi moaned around the dildo, the sound vibrating through the silicone as his hands slid up to cup your breasts, palms rubbing over your nipples, squeezing gently. The dual sensation, his mouth working the strap and his fingers teasing you, pulled a moan from you as he kept sucking, cheeks hollowing, taking the toy until his nose nearly brushed the harness.
You let him stay there a moment longer before tugging him up by the hair and kissing him. It was messy and urgent. Tongues sliding together as you both stumbled backward until the backs of your knees hit the bed. You broke away just long enough to reach into the nightstand drawer and pull out the bottle of lube you kept there. Mingi watched you a moment before he turned without a word, crawling onto the mattress and presenting himsel as he lowered his chest, arching his back so his ass lifted, long legs spread. He glanced over his shoulder, eyes half lidded and waiting as you coated the dildo generously, then used the same slick hand to part his cheeks.
One finger circled his rim before pressing inside making Mingi’s breath hitch and a low moan slip out as you sank your finger to the knuckle. You worked it in and out slowly, feeling him clench and relax around you. When you added a second finger he pushed back, taking both easily as you scissored them open, stretching him, prepping him thoroughly until his hole glistened and he was rocking into your hand. “Good boy.” You praised as you pulled your fingers free and lined the strap up. The blunt tip pressed against his entrance and you pushed forward steadily and slowly.
Inch by inch the dildo sank into him as Mingi’s fingers twisted in the sheets, a long, shaky groan leaving his throat as you bottomed out. You stayed still, letting him adjust, hands smoothing over the curve of his ass until he nodded, hips shifting back in silent invitation. You started with slow, deep thrusts. Each push dragged the toy almost all the way out before sliding back in and Mingi met every movement, rolling his hips in that fluid dancer’s motion, taking you deeper. The sight of his ass swallowing the strap making your own arousal spike. “Look at you,” you murmured, voice low and filthy. “Taking every inch like you were made for it. Such a good boy for me.”
Mingi’s moan was louder this time as he pushed back harder, meeting your thrusts with increasing urgency. “I thought you wanted to make me scream,” he managed, voice strained and you gripped his hips tighter at that, picking up the pace. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room as you fucked him in earnest. Mingi’s body moved with you, hips rolling back to take every thrust, long legs braced wide. “That’s it, princess. Fuck yourself on it.“ And oh did he. Mingi pushed himself up, hands flat against the mattress and bounced his ass back, taking the dildo all the way, crying out a little before you pulled out suddenly, slapping his ass, the sound sharp in the quiet room. “Turn over.”
You didn’t have to tell him twice. Mingi rolled onto his back, legs falling open as you grabbed his thighs and spread them wide, pushing them toward his chest so he was completely exposed. The strap slid back inside him in one smooth motion at the same time your hand wrapped around his leaking dick, stroking from base to tip in time with your thrusts making Mingi’s head fall back against the pillows, a broken “Oh… fuck…” tearing from his throat as you set a relentless rhythm, pounding into his ass while your fist worked his dick. Precum slicked your fingers, making each stroke glide as Mingi’s moans turned into whimpers. His hips jerked between the two sensations, caught between fucking himself back onto the strap and thrusting up into your hand. His dick throbbed, aching and swollen, the tip shiny with cum.
You could feel his ass clenching rhythmically around the toy. “Such a pretty mess,” you were almost consumed by the sight of him. “Look at you leaking all over my hand while I fuck your ass. You love this, don’t you? Love being filled and stroked at the same time.” Mingi tried to answer but the words dissolved into helpless sounds as his body trembled, muscles flexing under sweat damp skin. His thighs shook in your grip as you kept the pace steady, driving the strap deep with every thrust while your hand twisted over the tip of his dick on each upstroke.
His breathing turned ragged and you could see the moment he tipped over, his ass clamped down hard, his dick jerked in your fist, and he came with a raw scream of your name as thick ropes of his release shot across his stomach and chest, his whole body locking up as his orgasm crashed through him and you fucked him through it, slowing only when his spasms started to ease. Your hand released his spent dick, letting it twitch against his abs as you leaned over him, pressing soft kisses along his jaw while you carefully pulled the strap free.
Mingi’s eyes stayed closed, chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. Sweat cool on his skin as you brushed damp strands of hair from his forehead. “You took that like a champ, princess,” you murmured against his ear and Mingi groaned, a tired but satisfied smile tugging at his lips.
He cracked one eye open, voice hoarse but laced with promise. “Wait until I can move… then your ass is mine next.”
smut -_- and not proofread on the last half because I want to post!
prompt: San was the sexy powerful mafia. He often ordered coffee from the cafe you worked out and you made it to the best quality. Late at night, he would wind down, relax and turn on his large screened tv to watch his favorite channel…his favorite channel being no other than you.
genre: dark romance, smut, very creepy, horror, mafia au, stalker
content: 18+ content (mdni), stalking, difference in power, masturbation, very dirty smut… pathetic! San, Stalker! San, Mafia! San, Creepy! San, perverted, ect. low-key female worker but also both can work ngl
a/n: hi my loves! I really want to do part 2s for all of my previous fanfics that yall have been asking for…but I have so much better fanfics on the way that I can’t forget! I will complete all of the other fanfics I have in the way and then I will write added parts for my other fanfics which you guys seemed to love, okay? please enjoy this and thank you for reading💕
Listening to -> Sour Switchblade, Coquette Habit, Streets
Choi San has always been one of the extremely powerful and elite mafias in all of Busan City. To the public, he kept his identity under wraps for the most part, but if somebody were to meet him for the first time, they would feel his commanding and icy presence.
His sharp looks certainly gave his already deadly aura a boost. Carefully groomed jet black hair, siren umber brown eyes, masculine jaw that people would kill to have, and soft heart shaped lips that contrasted from everything else.
If someone recognized him, they would show their respect by bowing deeply and quickly getting out of harm's way. They certainly did not want to get on his bad side, nor be on his mind at all, because everybody knew that once the Choi San was fixated on you, you had a bigger problem.
Unfortunately, you seemed to be one of those unlucky people. Probably the only unlucky person if anything. Maybe it was all in your head, but you could have sworn San would always show up at Chimmy’s Café only on the days when you worked there. Why would the powerful mafia boss show up to a simple Café every Mondays and Wednesdays? Was he actually fixated on a simple Café shop worker like yourself? Were you fucked over?
His voice was always low and deep whenever he spoke. It was almost impossible to hear what he was even ordering, but luckily, San would always order the same thing. Black Coffee, no sugar, and a pink cake pop. He would dress in a black huddie and sweats. Simple. Not too obvious on his status.
His stare was cold and calculating, as if his dark sharp eyes were constantly trying to read your mind and find the intentions of your soul. It was very unsettling and stalker-ish. The worst part was, you felt those eyes almost every time you stepped outside of your apartment. At least you felt safe inside the comfort of your home. Felt.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Room 707! Open up for drug inspection!” Called out a deep male voice from behind your front apartment door. Drug inspection? What made anyone think that there were drugs in your apartment? Whatever. The best choice is to let them in and show that they’re no drugs in your home.
You jogged over to your front door and nervously opened the door with shaky hands so that the man, whom you assumed to be a government official of some sort, could check your apartment for drugs. Lucky for you, you didn’t have any. You were never the type to take drugs, you didn’t really have time for those.
As you opened the door, you were met with the sight of a tall man, dark shaggy hair and a serious look on his pretty face.
“My name is Mr. Jeon and I will be searching your apartment. There has been a report made specifically for apartment room 707. I am assuming that is you.”
You didn’t want to seem suspicious as he checked your apartment, so you decided to remain in the kitchen and make yourself some tea, playing causal while giving Mr. Jeon space. You certainly did not have any drugs, but you definitely did not want to make him think otherwise.
The strange government official decided to search your room first, but since if you had drugs it would most likely be kept there, you didn’t question him much and you didn’t bother to see what he was doing.
That was a big mistake.
Ever since that strange and sudden day, Choi San was able to watch you every night. Of course, he has always watched you. In fact, San has seen you walk to work every monday and every wednesday, has seen you clock in at the cafe, and has seen you take the bus after 5 back to your apartment. But now with the cameras added, he could finally watch you properly as you lay in your room, vulnerable and alone.
He was grateful to have the privilege, power and connections that he did to be able to install cameras into your room. It was a new source of entertainment and thrill he got from just watching you, but from a more personal view. San seemed to never get bored and never missed a day with looking at your room through the cameras.
After long days of working in the mafia, when he’d get home he’d turn on his tv and open the camera app to you, observing you fully on his big screen. This would happen obsessively for weeks until two months passed.
——
Sunday.
It was routinely for him to watch you every night, but this night seemed to be different for you. You struggled to sleep this night for whatever reason and decided to do something about it. Your hands trailed lower and lower into the night until they met your core. You whimpered at the sensation and laid further back onto your bed. Though it was late, San was still observing, and he sat closer on his bed to get a closer look. Today seemed to be his lucky day. Or night.
He watched in awe as your hands moved. He couldn’t see much from the side angle of the camera, but luckily there was a microphone installed, so he could hear every moan, every whimper, every pant and every breath.
Suddenly, a wave of heated rage came over him. Why wasn’t he touching you like that? Why couldn't he be the one that made you moan and shake? He couldn’t help his reaction to the sound though. His body tensed, and his pants grew tight, warm n wet.
"Ah Fuck!" You moaned out to yourself behind the cameras. San's hips roughly jerked forward as he couldnt control his dick from reacting to your sounds. Goodness, what was he going to do?
Then he realized he could just pretend it was him in you the entire time. Not a bad idea since that was the closest he would get to actually fucking you, putting in all the pent-up desire that he has been holding back for weeks into your beautiful body. Well for now at least...
San scooted closer to his television and continued to watch your hand move with efficiency. His own rough, large hands frantically unzipped his pants before pulling his wet hard cock out with a guttural moan.
"Mmmh yes..." He whimpered before teasing his own cock to you in slow strokes. He was truly savoring the moment. It was not everyday he watched you through the cameras (lie) and saw you masturbating. San wished his nights after work were always like this. Watching you desperately touch yourself behind the cameras, not knowing he was there the whole time.
"Ahhm~" You whined as you suddenly squirted, spill making a mess all over your clean bedsheets. His strokes desperately quickened at the sight. "Mmm I bet that pussy is so tight..." He groaned to himself.
Even though what he was doing was sick, perverted and illegal, it felt so good, and he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes, but he couldn't close his eyes with having the privilege to see you like this. All vulnerable and spent after touching yourself. He wondered if you were thinking of him the way he was thinking of you.
"Fuck fuck..." He cried pathetically. His orgasm soon followed as his fluids spilled onto his hand, thick and warm. You would think that he would have stopped there, but he only kept going, eyes rolling back as the image of you twitching and whimpering after squirting in your bed replayed in his mind over and over again. Its like he couldn't stop thinking about it, wouldn't stop wanting to feel you wrapped around him, couldn't stop wanting you for himself to use as he pleased.
After that night, he knew he needed you, and he was going to find a way to get you.
Monday Morning.
You walked into Chimmy's Cafe and quickly went to the bathroom to change into your work attire. Usually, which didn't happen often, you felt refreshed after you masturbated. It was a time when you could relax and explore your body without any distractions. Strangely, last night you didn't feel alone during the moment you usually had alone. Was it good or bad? Didn't matter. Work now and think about whatever presence you felt later.
When you finished dressing up and jogged over to the service counter, you already had a customer waiting.
Of course it was him.
Grey sweat pants. Black Huddie. Dark eyes and sexy face. It was no other than Mr. Choi, that Mafia guy. But why was he just staring. Was he going to order or?
You didn't know it, but he saw everything last night. Heard everything and watched intently. He loved every second of it and finally made a decision to keep you for himself. Claim you for him only. And he knew exactly how he was going to do it.
【Summary】: Seonghwa has got some real bad baby fever and you. Being his lovely wife, indulged him whole heartedly.
『Word count』: 1.43k
-> Genre: Smut. Fluff
[Warnings]: Switch dynamics. The reader is in charge of this one hehe. Subby-ish Seonghwa. (He's whinier than anything else) breeding kink, unprotected sex (Don't do this unless you want kids) Dirty talk. Bratty reader & Seonghwa. Making out. Hwa breaks readers' underwear (whoops). Pet names. Honeymoon romance. Newlywed and all that.
Seonghwa is begging again. He wants children. He's brought it up in the past and you've always brushed it off with a hearty no, saying you both weren't ready for that type of commitment. Not right now anyway. But this time is different. He's stopped mid-kiss to look at you in the eye and asked the question.
"Can we have a baby?"
Your throat runs dry. You couldn't care for a kid, not now when your lives have just only begun to settle down into the first day of your honeymoon, which started straight after your chaotic wedding. But yet you couldn't help feeling a tingle brew in your lower gut. The desperation in his eyes made your thighs squeeze together. The choked whimper in his words filled your need to please. And how could you possibly say no to your newly wedded husband while staring directly into his beautiful loving eyes? They swim with lust.... you were at a loss.
"Anything for you, my Love," you whispered facing your body fully to him, having discarded your phone onto the side dresser while you were deep in thought.
His eyes brighten like he has just heard the best news in his entire life. He's on you within seconds, kissing you deeply and caressing your sides. You moan into the kiss, grabbing either side of his head to hold him in place. His touch sends shivers down your spine and goosebumps across your body. You have never thought of it because of your precautions but just thinking about him going in raw gets you wet. You shift a hand down between your legs and start to rub your clit with two fingers. But a hand quickly stops you.
Seonghwa pulls away and looks at you. "Let me, please," he begs.
He looks and sounds more desperate than you feel. This man must have been earning for ages. And now he's finally getting it. He's just a sloppy mess. You push him back onto the bed, his eyes on you the entire time. You climb on top of him and sit on top of his crotch. You grind down a little, feeling him grow in his pants a little. His hands grab your waist quickly, but you have other ideas. If he's been wanting this, he'll have to earn it. You grab his wrists and he lets go with loose fingers. Pinning his hands above his head, you suddenly feel the thrill of being on top. Looking down on him and seeing the desperation upon his delicate features. His mouth is parted and he's breathing heavily already. It's truly a sight to see that turns you on.
"Now if you want this, you're going to have to ask nicely," you whisper in his ear.
A moan is pushed from his lips as you grind down again at his lack of response. "Please," he begs. "Let me."
Satisfied, you let go of his hands but tsk, "Keep them there," You ordered with a fake tone of dominance, at this point, you sounded more cheeky and light-hearted, but neither of you cared. He keeps his arms above him but his gaze is all over you. You can feel his neediness rubbing against your clothed core. Shuffling down, you begin to undo his belt and pants. You stop every time he moves and wait for him to fall silent again. After a solid five minutes of playing this little game of tug and pull, you shuffle his pants off his ankles. His cock is fully erect and leaking. With a grin across your face, you sit on his thighs, placing your soft fingers down his waist. He flinches slightly but keeps his mouth shut.
"So you want kids?" You chuckle.
"Honestly," he admits, "I couldn't care less about that right now."
"Oh, okay." You reach over to the bedside table and open it. "I'll just wrap you up then."
"No!" He shouts and grabs you away from the table. "No," he says more softly.
You laugh and pat his cheek. "You're sweet. But do have to grab the lube."
He smiles widely and toothy as you reach for the bedside table again, grabbing a small bottle of lube out. You slick up your hand and finally begin rubbing his dick. His hips buck up slightly and he suppresses a moan.
"Let it out, honey," you whisper.
He exhales harshly and his arms move slightly above him. You stop and squeeze the base of his dick. He chokes on a moan but another escape and oh my, it sounds heavenly. Why haven't you done this before? This is another side of your husband you haven't seen. You move up on your knees and push your nightie up your thighs with the hand that was on his dick. You reach between your thighs and move your underwear to the side not wasting any more time with taking them off. With the lube on your fingers and the wetness coming from you, two fingers slide in easily. The pleasure zips through you and makes you hunch over Seonghwa. You finger yourself above his dick, breathing into his neck.
"Keep your arms up there now," you moan. You meant it to come out as an order, but opening yourself up over him is doing something to you you never thought would.
"Please, I just want to touch you," he pleads.
"We can stop if you want." You plant a kiss on his lips. "Or we can keep going."
He shakes his head frantically. "Please. I just want to fuck you," he pants.
You kiss him again with more want and bring your free hand to comb through his hair. Then you reach down and grab the base of his cock to line it up. He moans into your mouth as you slide down halfway onto him. You pull away gasping. You want more.
"You can touch me," you say but it comes more out as a whine.
His hands whip forward and grab your hips. He's a mess right now and you're loving it. You bob lightly up and down on him, feeling him rub up against you, sending prickles of pleasure up your spine. He guides you down slowly with each thrust until you've swallowed him to the base. He lets you sit there, taking his full length in for a moment before you decide to move on your own accord. You shift your hips upwards with your hands planted on Seonghwa's stomach before moving downwards. You set a rhythm for yourself but soon enough he's thrusting up into you. You're gasping and moaning each time he drives you down on his cock. You get lost in the moment and pick up the pace to chase your own high. You fall on top of Seonghwa and he wraps one of his arms around your waist while the other snakes down to grip your panties.
"I'm sorry." His words were quick and so was the sound of a snap of fabric. Did he literally just rip your underwear? "I'll buy you more."
"You better." You choke out a moan as he throws the broken fabric somewhere in the room. He brings his knees up and begins thrusting up into you from another angle. It sends a thrill through you that has you moaning louder. You're both a mess and all of the teasing and playing hard to get suddenly didn't matter anymore.
"I'm- I'm gonna-" He pants in your ear. He holds onto you more tightly as he buries his face into your neck. With a few stuttering thrusts, you feel him release inside of you. And oh god just the hot sensation of being filled up sends you over the edge as well. You squeeze down tight around him and you can already feel some of his cum dripping down his cock, leaking out of your hole. After the high end, you slowly bring yourself up, his cock still inside you, letting his cum stay deep inside you. Collecting yourself, you glance to see Seonghwa grinning up at you with a glowing smile. It brings a smile to your face as well even though you don't know why he's so ungodly happy.
"What?" You ask, stroking his chest with one hand.
"I hope it's a girl," Is all he says. That earned him a light slap on the shoulder.
ᯓ Don't you look at me like that, it's just too real
pairing: Choi San x fem!reader
synopsis: 3 am texts might turn into something more if you let it. Will you? - or two idiots saying anything but facing their feelings content: college au, frat!san, drinking, sneaking around, anxious attachment lol, wingman mingi, angst, crack (bc i am funny [don't tell me if i'm not]), hurt n eventual comfort, smut. wc: 12k featuring: '99 liners, all of Aespa, txt: Yeonjun, Soobin, Skz: Bangchan (for like half a second)
for @ikeukiss <3
⭑루안: HI LEXI!! i am your secret admirer!!! i got two inspirational songs for you to listen to (other than the other 15 in the playlist) DLS - by nessa barrett and dls - by artemas, fitting right? fun fact, they were together when they wrote these songs, hihi. i also have way too many songs associated with this fic anyway, I hope you enjoy lex xoxo
this is my work for @everyonewooeverywhere 's fic exchange. check them all out - masterlist <33
also big thanks to everyone who helped me with this when times were rough, i gen owe my life to all of you<3
playlist (like were back in the wattpad times):
dirty little secret - nessa barrett
dirty little secret - artemas
i like it - stray kids
creep (san) - ateez
s.l.u.t. - nessa barrett
we can't be friends - ariana grande
would've been you - sombr
favourite crime - olivia rodrigo
how could you love somebody like me - artemas
scare myself - nessa barrett
given enough - nessa barrett
doubt (demo) - twenty one pilots
does god cry? - nessa barett
we never even dated - sombr
escapism (sped up) - raye
love looks pretty on you - nessa barrett
stolen dance - milky chance
i might have a problem with nessa im sorry
Frat parties are always the same. Frustratingly good-looking men living in a frustratingly good house. Privileged wannabe somebodies who put their dicks into every hole it doesn't even belong in, while hardly maintaining a 2.0 GPA.
But still, here you are at the ATZ frat at midnight. Dragged by your best friends, drinking cheap beer, holding eye contact with men whose cologne you can smell from the other side of the room.
You thought maybe they were the frat that would change your mind about the stereotypes, have the party of your life, and get you back into social university life. But you were so wrong - this year's starter party was just like the others.
"I'm gonna get some water," you murmur to Minjeong, who is way too interested in a frat brother's speech, her hands waving to you dismissively.
The kitchen is the same as it was in every house on campus, overflowing with dirty dishes, red cups, and sticky counters.
Where would a frat guy keep water?
The answer is as easy as it may seem: the pantry. Hidden behind the racks of the cheap beer, your friends were happily sipping until inebriation. As you reach to put the beer to the side, another hand comes reaching for the same racket. And with your luck, who would it be other than Choi San?
The campus golden boy, and the frat brother of your best friend's boyfriend. You've seen him around at other parties, across rooms, but never this close.
You always knew his name, just like everyone else on campus - but your story had a little more depth to it. He was in the same social circles you were in, yet you never had the chance to talk before. You weren't his cup of tea based on the stories you heard, and he sure wasn't yours either.
"There is also water in the cooler," he says, grabbing three bottles of beer with one hand. "Unless you’re into warm disappointment."
You blink at him. "…Come again?"
He chuckles before he starts talking again, "Those waters are uncooled, and have been here since god knows when," he gestures with his free hand towards them, "There's a cooler in the living room with water."
"Thanks?" your voice is amused - unfamiliar to you even. You just stood there, neither of you going back to the chaos of the party. Him to his audience of multiple girls, and you to your respective job of third-wheeling Minjeong while Aeri and Yizhuo were lost in the crowd.
But all of the escape routes seemed to disappear from your mind the moment his mouth opened again. "You don't look like you're having fun."
You scoff, "I'm having the time of my life, can't you see?" Your hands open and gesture around, "the sole of my shoe sticking to the linoleum with my every step, warm drinks, half-dressed jocks yelling over the typical frat music - what else could a girl want?"
He laughs a little, the smile staying on his lips. "You can always just… go," he says, eyes glinting in a way he knows that sentence actually challenged you to stay.
The next half an hour was a mess; You remember following him upstairs, but not the part of agreeing to it.
This is reckless, yet your body doesn’t seem to care as his fingers trace the hem of your top, pausing just long enough for you to change your mind. The heat of his hands warm against your soft skin as he freed you from your dress, kissing up in sync with his hands. Where has the girl gone who swore she would be dead before being found in a frat brother's bedroom?
What happened next wasn't gentle, or anything to keep up his soft golden boy façade. Moans, breaths, and hands intertwined. The room was a mess of limbs and discarded clothes, the mirror foggy with heavy breaths, and with everything you wanted from a casual intimacy.
His forehead presses to yours at some point, so familiar and just right. Something is unsettling about how easily he reads you.
His nails are leaving crescent moons on your hips as he holds you on top of him. It's sensual, and there is this slowly growing feeling in the pit of your stomach that's different from your high.
His tip rubbed against the perfect spot with every thrust. Your climax came heavy and unannounced; everything was perfect: his hands supportive on your thighs as you bounced, the look in his eyes, and his sweet little words whispered into the darkness of the room.
You were spent. Spent but content. His arms were sloppily wrapped around you as a soft weight on your waist. The room smelled like sex and sweat, mixing with his laundry detergent - if frats even had any.
Your eyes opened and took in the digital clock that sat on the nightstand next to you, and reading 3 am off of it was enough to sober you up. With eyes wide open now, the zippers of your boots got stuck in the haste you were trying to put them back on.
The shift hits him fast. The confidence and peace of mind he felt quickly became this ugly feeling of insecurity.
The covers tousled around him as he sat up, chest still naked and glossed with sweat, his hair a mess as his hand ran through it. Still trying to make sense of whatever happened in the last few minutes. "Where are you going?"
"Don't take it to your heart, everything was amazing - I just don't stay the nights." Hair tossed from one side to the other as you searched for your other sock. When you were finally presentable for the outside world, your hand was already on the knob. "This was really good, Sannie. We should do it again sometime."
And with that, you were out the door.
He fell back on his bed, staring at the ceiling a second longer than normal. The sound of your fading steps outside the door felt wrong and too quiet in contrast to what it was like before. Your side of the bed still had that little dent and warmth to it, the only reason he knew you actually were there, and it wasn't just a figment of his imagination.
—
"Oh, and then he was like 'I hope you're not joking, Minjeong,' like the fuck I was." Minjeong's mouth was full of cereal as she spoke, more spilling back to her bowl than what actually made it into her mouth.
"Can you actually shut up for a minute?" Yizhuo whispered, fingers pressing on her temples like it would make her raging headache disappear. Across her, Aeri just face planted onto the table, black hood up on her head.
Jimin's eyebrows etched together on her forehead as she scoffed at their banter. The apartment after a night out is never really boring, especially with the stories to tell - right now to Jimin, who was bundled up with her boyfriend all night, instead of tagging along. Her eyes slid to you in a silent question: anything noteworthy? And you just shook your head in response.
She didn't question when you came home at half past three, looking like what you actually were - freshly and well fucked. She just brushed it off. After years of friendship, she knew when not to push.
"So Yeonjun's birthday is this weekend," Jimin said at a reasonable volume for the hangover. Still, they groaned in unison anyway - may it be the volume or a mention of another party on their already unstable stomachs. You and Jimin chuckled at them as she finally joined the table too.
"Another frat party, great," Aeri's muffled voice sounded from where she was folded over the table. "Do I have-"
"Yes, you have to," Jimin interrupted her, a smile now persistent on your face. "He came to yours, too." Her voice was authoritative and held no place for argument.
—
Sunday slipped by with ease, and so did the next week. "Give me that shimmer, please," you said, yelling over the obnoxiously loud pregame music Yizhuo was forcing everyone to listen to. What even was this Pitbull? The party started an hour ago, but there wasn't such a thing as being late in the university party life.
When you arrived another half an hour later, everything was buzzing at ATZ frat, similar to last week's party, but this one was decorated with garlands and birthday signs as if everybody on campus wasn't already aware of it being The Day of Yeonjun's birth.
The house reeked of cheap beer again, but it blended with the undeniable smell of weed also. There was beer pong in one corner, a guy doing a keg stand in the other, some kissing couples, and your favourite - spin the bottle in the middle of the living room.
You sat down between two random girls from your year, smiled at them, and took in the people in the circle. Yunho and Mingi from IT, Chris from business, a few unknown faces,
and… San.
He has a puzzled look on his face, eyebrows slightly furrowed, and you can see his tongue poking his cheeks from the inside. When Mingi noticed you, he hit San's arm with a blinding smile on his face - way to be subtle, dude. "Okay," Mingi clapped his hands together, "Regular seven minutes in heaven for my boy YJ." As if said guy wasn't in a happy relationship.
A few grunts and happy claps sounded from the circle. Yunho and San just shook their heads at Mingi, who looked like he never had a better idea than this in his life before. Good job, Cupid. The bottle spanned in the middle, stopped every once in a while with a dramatic gasp by the crowd and the players.
Everything went fine for you, the bottle hadn't even stopped near you, to the point it was as if a dark spell came upon you. Oh, but did that spell have it out for you.
In the next round, the bottle was spun by Minjeong's hand as she and Jimin screeched that they were doing you a favour, and it stopped on… Mingi. His smile dropped immediately, eyes wide as he stopped every action he was up to before. He observed San's face, who just looked at him, dumbfounded.
The plan backfired.
A random guy spoke up, "Just go." Who was already eager for his next round with another victim to his beer breath.
But Mingi's brain is working overtime for an excuse - don't get him wrong, he doesn't have a problem with you, but he knows something happened between you and San last week because he saw it on San, and most importantly, he heard it. The 3 am conversation with his own girl wrapped in his arms, every word that left your mouth was clear in the room next to San's - and who was he if not his best mate's wing man.
"I'm gonna pass on this one," he says dismissively, his beer pointed at the bottle in the middle like it personally offended him. "I've already been twice tonight." His hand lazily gestures to the circle, and your eyebrows knit together. "I'm gonna let golden boy take on this one."
"What, San?" the guy from earlier interjects with a scoff. "He hasn't even played yet."
Mingi's bottle tilts in his direction, "Exactly." All eyes shifted to a now very stiff San, whose gaze was already on you, searching your face for any reaction.
You stood up, patting your palms off on the front of your jeans, already heading to the designated closet. "Does it matter? It's seven minutes, not a proposal," you scoffed, looking at them over your shoulder, but turning back just before you could have seen which men stood after all.
The closet door closed behind you by that very same hand you saw last week. The music is quieter now, and so are the little cheers by the players outside. You couldn't see the way San's jaw tightened in the dimly lit room, or how his hands flexed as he crossed them across his chest.
"So…" his voice broke the silence.
"So?" your own arms crossed also.
"You left." His voice had that same vulnerable tone it had the last time you heard it. He wasn't accusatorial, just factual, and somewhere deep inside, that tone was exactly why you stepped closer. Arms uncrossing but not reaching out to him.
"I don't do sleepovers, Sannie," you said in a low voice, demanding all his attention to catch it over the muffled, yet loud music behind him.
His chest shook with an amused yet mocking laugh, "I figured." His tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he looked to the side.
"And if you want it to happen more times," your breath caressed his chest under his open shirt, "it stays like that." His head whipped back, nose scrunching slightly. He fell silent, which made a small anxious ball form in your stomach.
"No public scenes, no hand holding, and… no expectations," your voice filled the small place. He was leaning against the door now, gaze scrutinous, dissecting every part of you, "And I think that night was something we're both eager to recreate." the words tasted sweet on your tongue.
His breath hitched, "And if I see you on campus?" That question was enough for you to be sure he is already thinking about it. He felt this, too, and maybe that should've been your clue not to get into all of this.
"You keep walking."
And that's exactly how this awkward limbo started. Acquaintances by day and something far less innocent by night.
—
With the following weeks, you fell into a cycle, one message at 12:35 to confirm if you were going or not, but never before that. You went over to his place - never yours, not risking it with the girls - had mind-blowing sex, and left around 3 am. It wasn't exactly a rule you had, rather a promise.
Other than everything that was happening behind closed doors, no contact actually happened. You passed him on campus on Monday, and he didn't stop, didn't nod, he didn't even glance. Just like you told him to, as if he forgot the taste of your moans on his lips from two nights prior.
That Friday, your phone buzzed exactly at 12:35 am
San
you coming today?
A smile overtook your face at every message. Already dressed in his black hoodie and some sweatpants, out the door by 12:40.
He didn't even let you close the door behind you; his hands were already on you, grabbing everything and everywhere all at once. His mouth kisses its way up your neck as he pulls the hoodie over your neck, tossing it on the floor.
He barely lets you inside before his hands and lips are on you. A whimper broke free in your throat as he played with your plush breasts, fingers rolling your nipples between them, making you arch into him.
"I was waiting for you all day," his forehead pressed against yours as he worked on the hemline of his sweatpants. Pushing it down just enough to free himself of it, "to hear those little moans slip out of your mouth, instead of watching you from afar."
Your hand wrapped around his cock, which was already throbbing, tip glistening with precum. His head lolled back with a hiss from the contact "Fuck," you dropped to your knees in front of him, hand pumping him a few times before taking him into your mouth.
The night blurred with gasps, heated eye contact, and some hushed words into your ears, but the clock read 3:12 am again, and San was a second away from falling asleep - that was your cue to leave, but this time it wasn't as easy.
You didn't make the goodbye harder with a kiss on his lips, just gathered your belongings and softly closed the door behind you, hoping the frat was asleep by now. San didn't even think about questioning you leaving, just went headfirst into the shower.
But as soon as the others heard the water turn off, they invaded his room. Mingi dropped dramatically onto his bed next to him. Yunho and Wooyoung just sat on the end of his bed, all of them looking excitedly at the seemingly alarmed San.
"What is this about?" he asked, looking between them, piercing each with a confused glare - it wasn't every day that your friends came into your room at 4 am.
"So sneaking around?" Mingi started, and Yunho quickly slapped the back of his head. The younger one dramatically held the back of his head as Wooyoung tried again.
"You like her," he didn't ask, rather stated. Wooyoung's glasses sat on the top of his nose, giving him a teacheristic look, as if he was giving San a piece of mind. "And… she is using you."
"What is wrong with both of you? Oh my god," Yunho face-palmed between them, "it's four in the morning, don't be like this." At least one of them had a few brain cells. Emphasis on a few.
"Exactly, four in the morning, and she left him here… again." San's nostrils flared at Mingi's sentence.
"She had somewhere to be." Couldn't you think of anything better, San? Oh my god. He internally facepalmed but kept his ice-cold expression to his friends.
But neither of them bought it. Wooyoung's eyebrows lifted. "At three twenty?" and San just continued to dry his hair with a towel in silence, but his moves now were a bit more stressed, urgent, and maybe a little stiff.
"Have you told her you like her, Sannie?" Yunho questioned, worry etched on his face.
"I didn't, because I don't." The bed creaked as he stood up, throwing the towel into the hamper, "It's not that deep," he scoffed, disappearing into the bathroom again.
Wooyoung lies back on his forearms after fixing his glasses with a hand, "It is for you."
Yunho sighs, "Look, man… if this is just hooking up, good for you, but don't pretend you're not waiting for her to sneak in that door every night."
The room echoed with water splashing sounds now, and San muffledly called from the bathroom, "I'm not-"
Mingi cuts him off with a scoff, "Yes, you are." the smile left his face, "You leave parties at two am just to come home and shower before she fucking comes."
San appears again, toothbrush in his mouth, "She was clear about this," he gestures around with his free hand, "She doesn't want a relationship."
Wooyoung scoffs again, "Exactly," he says quietly through gritted teeth.
Mingi softens now, "We just don't want you with someone who won't even look at you outside these four walls."
And that makes San snap. He spits the toothpaste into the sink. "She's not like that." they all know they shouldn't push him more; it is 4 am for him after all, too, and he must know all of this somewhere deep within himself, right?
But Yunho soflty adds the last blow, "Who are you trying to convince? Us or yourself?" he doesn't even respond to it; he knows he's too deep, but is way too afraid to say anything. Terrified that even if he says it to his friends, you will disappear from his grasp.
"It's just casual." He says after a beat, "Now get out, I have class early." he says somewhat angrily, getting into bed and pulling the covers over his shoulders while trying to ignore the presence of his friends.
When they leave, he checks his phone, silently longing for a message from you, even though he knows he won't get anything until tomorrow night.
—
You sat with the girls at the table like usual the next morning. Minjeong was twirling the spoon around in her bowl as she eyed you curiously. "You shower at 3 am a lot lately."
The sandwich in your hand freezes halfway to your mouth before you continue scrolling on your phone and bite into it, "Insomnia," you say dismissively, eyes pointedly ignoring her, buried deep in your phone.
Minjeong hums like she doesn't believe you, "You think you’re the first person to try this ‘no feelings’ thing?" and your back straightens, eyes snapping to hers.
"What do you mean?" your throat feels dry.
She holds your gaze for a second too long, "Forget it," her shoulders shrug, "just… don't be stupid."
The mood in the apartment shifts immediately when you leave for class, and Yizhuo puts her phone down, trying to get the girl's attention. "So…" she says, leaning back against the couch, "Is this one of those where we don't ask questions?"
Jimin folds her arms, exhaling softly, "It's obvious she's seeing someone, but is clearly low-profile," she gives the girls a puzzled look, "We won't get anything out of her."
Minjeong scoffs at the table, "My low profile doesn't mean coming home at four am," her glass clinks against the table with the force she slams it down. "but that might just be me."
"Yeah, that part worries me a bit too," Aeri joins in, her lips pursed, "But knowing her, it was her who set this all up."
Jimin shrugs. While she also knows it's true, she won't say anything. "She'll tell us when she wants to." And with that, they all fall quiet. Questions still simmering in them, but they don't have anyone to get answers from.
The guys stop pushing San after a few weeks, knowing they won't get anything out of him either. You just get ugly glances thrown your way from Wooyoung.
All of this didn't make sense to San. Why would you want something quiet, hidden from everyone else? So you could have someone else behind his back?
At first, your messages came every weekend, then one day you texted him on a Tuesday too, forgetting about the boundaries you set for yourself. The attraction you yet denied, and the feel of his skin on yours, mattered more than some words promised to yourself in a mirror.
And by December, the times you stayed have gotten longer every time. It started with staying until 3:30, just a little longer, cuddled up in his arms. He thought it was a coincidence, but didn't dare to say anything about it.
A few weeks into the new year, you texted him a little bit earlier than 12:30.
You
The girls are out
Wanna come over?
And he was so shocked he nearly dropped his phone. He quickly grabbed his hoodie off the back of his chair and told the guys he was going for a run. Let's just say San isn't a good liar. Your room feels unfamiliar. He just doesn’t say it, or why it does.
Mouths also got bolder with every week passing. A sweet "I need you" texted here, a "You're mine" whispered in your ear between thrusts, and an "I'm yours" kissed up on his chest - all in the haste and clouded by lust.
Another few weeks went by, some spent at your place, some at his. But after one really hard day after exams, you spoke up while cuddled up in his arms, "Can we shower? I feel sticky everywhere," voice barely above a whisper.
He doesn't even know how to react at first, but he is already standing, searching for a spare towel for you as you giggle at him from where you lie in bed. All of his sweaty, naked glory standing in front of you, with the biggest dimpled smile on his face. "What's so funny, huh?" his hand reaches for your jaw, looking down at your blown pupils.
"You're cute when you're flustered," you say, gently biting at his thumb that brushes over your lower lip. All that seduction makes him forget about that little detail of your lenghtened stay. One step closer to something neither of you wants to name.
The shower is warm, with the water running down your body, and him pressed to your back, hands slowly caressing your hips, you could almost say it's too warm.
You step out together also, towelling off parts the other can't reach. He passes you a shirt as muscle memory, but what shocks him more is the sight of you getting back into his bed. But he gets under the covers too, not daring to question it just pulls you closer to his chest, inhaling your scent. Your leg hooks over his hip, tracing patterns into his skin, muscles tensing in his back as you do.
He knew this was dangerous, getting more tangled in this mess day by day. Not because of what you were doing, but because of how natural it felt.
But at 4:17, you shuffle out of his arms again. Not even trying to untangle from his arms softly, your back is turned to him when he opens his eyes, hands reaching for your jeans, slipping your legs into them.
"You're leaving?" his tone was hopeful. But even he doesn't know what he's hoping for. Maybe for you to hesitate in your movements, begging in his head for you to even consider staying with him, to change something about this, and for you to look at him like you did in the shower.
But you don't. You just scoff at him, not even sparing him a glance over your shoulder, "Yeah. You ask as if I ever stayed," a quiet mocking laugh leaves your lips again.
He turns onto his back, hands tucked under his head, staring at the ceiling. His thoughts are too loud to hear you leave. He thought showering together finally meant something, all these little rules bended could've - no, should've meant something. But you still won't let him have this, have you, in daylight.
The next day after San's classes, everyone is already at the house, Mingi and Yunho are browsing Netflix on the couch, and Wooyoung looks very occupied behind his laptop screen at the dining table.
Mingi looks at San, munching on some popcorn, "Bro, you're glowing," and San just rolls his eyes as a response.
"She stayed," Yunho leans back further into the couch, eyes sparkling as he looks up at San. Yeah, thirty minutes longer than usual.
"She's training you," Wooyoung says, voice as calm as ever, still not looking up from the screen. It makes San's head snap, eyebrows furrow as he looks at him. "To expect more," he continues, "Without ever promising it."
San laughs it off, calls him something between a parent and a psychiatrist, but later that night, when you're on top of him, kissing down his chest, his mind is somewhere else. Thinking way too deeply about Wooyoung's words that are now mixing with his own thoughts from last night.
You can feel it in him, the way his eyes are way too clear, almost glassy. "What's up, Sannie?" you ask, hands travelling lower on his abdomen. Breezes started to pick up outside the house, rain splattering softly against the concrete.
Don't you look at me like that, it's just too real
But this time, he doesn't pull you closer; he has realised you will always be in this weird limbo if he doesn't question anything. "What are we doing?" your hand freezes on his stomach, immediately getting off him like he is burning you.
Your ears are ringing like static. "What do you mean?"
I don't have to be the one.
He sits up slowly, leaning back against the headboard. Muscles tensing in his chest as he looks at you, alarmed, hands flexing by his side. His stare feels cold on your exposed skin. "I told you not to expect anything more from this." your voice gets weaker with every word.
We don't have to be in love
He scoffs, "And what?" his eyes dart to the side before resuming his sentence, "We fuck every day but pretend we don't even know each other until you become bored?"
Your hands are shaky as you reach for your clothes at the end of the bed, getting dressed as quickly as possible. "What part of we keep it discreet did you not understand?" your hair is getting messed up by your hands, panic overwhelming all of your senses just from a few words. "You are so into me for what, San?"
The question hangs in the air for a second; his eyes are wide open as he's looking at you, stunned. "I don't do relationships, and I think I told you that." Hands are running down your face now. "I can't." He is getting up from the bed, moving slowly, not to freak you out even more, but tears are already falling from your eyes.
His hand automatically reaches out to wipe the stray tear from your cheek, but you pull away before he actually touches you, lips trembling, struggling to keep the sobs in now.
"We could be fucking endgame if you didn't let your fears take over you." his words are controlled, but the way his chest is heaving wildly says otherwise. "Don't you feel it?"
He doesn't even finish his last sentence when you scream at him, "I don't want to be endgame!" all of the words are raw with emotions you swore you didn't have. The frat is quiet around you; most of them who were asleep by now must be awake again by your volume.
His eyes dart to the door; he still cares, scared that someone might hear you - but it might be too late for that. He is also pissed, mad at you for making it feel like all of this went off on him, and his feelings. So what, you bending your own rules for him meant nothing to you?
Everything you whispered into his ears was just for the moment? I need you. We were made for each other. I'm yours. All of those for nothing? He shakes his head, trying to get rid of the pounding inside it, "You don't get to act like I imagined this." His own volume raising, voice raspy.
While you are spiralling, your mind is louder than his words are by now, and yet all of your words that leave your mouth are said without putting much thought behind them. "W-why now?" Your hands are moving animatedly with your words, "You've been fine with this for months."
The floorboard creaks under his feet, and the rain outside is falling harder and harder against the window. He is looking at you, the words stuck in his throat at first, until he spills them, "Because I'm not the only one who sees it."
That sentence is enough to make you pale. Your head is buzzing, knees bucking under your weight. Even though you are looking at him, you don't see him; everything is blurry, dark, and raw.
"They hear you leave, see when you come over. They know." he gulps, remorse and guilt already clawing up his spine, but he doesn't stop. "Do you know how stupid it makes me look?" His volume is rising with every word said, hands gesturing wildly.
His words are like a slap, "Oh, so that's what this is all about," you scoff, totally taken aback. "Your fucking pride." It all makes sense now.
"My pride, huh? If this had been about my pride, we wouldn't be here right now." his head tilts, expression hardening, "I am just tired of feeling like I'm the only one caring."
"You weren't supposed to care!" your voice cracks violently, "That was the whole point! to not get feelings involved."
"Oh, with all this, please even start saying that I forced myself into your bed also," he mockingly laughed, and you felt cornered, exposed, as if your soul was torn open and presented in front of him to see. The windows rattle behind him with the force of the downpour. Someone shifts in the hallway outside.
"I never asked you to fall for me," you spit, the words leave a bitter taste in your mouth, and have the same reaction on him too - his face drops all of those ugly emotions sitting openly on his face now.
"I didn’t fall for you alone," he says, quieter now, vulnerable.
"No," You shake your head rapidly, "San, don’t do that. Don’t act as if I promised you something."
"You did," he fires back immediately. "Every time you said you were mine. Every time you said you needed me. You don’t get to pretend those meant nothing to you!"
You grab your shoes with shaking hands. "This is why I said no expectations, I can't be what you want." Sobs break free from your chest with every syllable. "I don't need the pressure of a relationship, the fear of ruining someone."
He stares at you for a long moment. As if he’s about to say something that can’t be taken back. His lips press together, his voice a mere whisper now, "You already have."
That seems to sober you out of whatever trance you were in; now you're actually slipping into your shoes. "Fine," the words are quick as they leave your mouth, "No more sneaking, you don’t have to feel stupid anymore."
He is frozen in place, his world warped around you. "Is that what you want?"
But your hand is already on the doorknob, stepping out the door without answering his question, and this time, you don't take a look around to see if anyone is there, because you know there are. You walk past them in the hallway, walking straight to the front door, hood shading your head.
And the worst part is, San doesn't call after you. The front door slams behind you. San is still standing in his door. Half of the frat is standing in the communal place, and even in the hallway, giving him pitying glances - but the show is over, hope it was entertaining.
—
The front door closed softly behind you, your sneakers fully drenched in water. The girls look up from the couch - a movie still playing in the background - but they’re on their feet immediately. Hands are everywhere. Peeling damp fabric from your skin. Someone disappears and comes back with a towel.
Your hands were shaking through it all, and hoarse sobs escaped your thinly pressed mouth before you could stop them. Jimin was the first to ask you softly what happened, hands sweetly caressing your cheeks, and that was enough to make the raw, deep sobs break free, and you collapsed into her arms. Trying to grab at anything, any part of her, as an anchor, to get back on your footing. But with every caress on the back of your head, it just got worse. Your sobs got more intense, full body shaking with the intensity.
They try to get you to the couch, arms on your lower back, hands guiding you to sit. The couch dips on both of your sides; everything feels blurred and distant. They are all whispering to you, their voices overlapping. Trying to calm your harsh breaths down, but nothing seems to work.
Jimin's voice comes from in front of you, "Did he hurt you?" and you stop the cries just enough to shake your head through it. How could he.
Minjeong's voice comes from your side, and her hand on your shoulder is grounding. "Did you hurt him?"
Every muscle in your body freezes for a moment before violent whimpers escape you harder than before, if it's even possible. Your hands come up to your face, crying harder into them. Your thoughts keep running one by one as if they are running from something. But they are too loud, repeating over and over: reckless, you weren't supposed to care.
You try to stiffle the sobs, biting your lips now, the coppery taste flowing into your mouth, but the pain is nothing compared to what you feel. "He wanted more," you let out between hiccups. You don't elaborate further, and they don't push either. Comforting you until the cries finally stop.
—
Going to classes starting the next day was a struggle. He was everywhere - not him, though, but his friends.
You passed Mingi and Yunho in the hallways between lectures; their faces held pained expressions before quickly averting their gazes. Wooyoung threw you dirty glances across the cafeteria; he didn't bother hiding it. He was sharp and cold, even when the girls were there. They noticed too, how couldn't they? Everyone felt the tension stretching across the room.
Your head hung low between hunched shoulders, as you pushed food around your plate. "I’m gonna head back," you muttered finally, standing before Minjeong or Jimin could ask anything. You already turned your back on them, before they could argue, taking the longer way back to the apartment just to be sure.
Across campus, San hadn't even made it to class. He was still in bed at their frat house, sheets twisted between his legs. switching between tossing, turning, and staring at the ceiling.
When the others came back from class, the silence was deafening. San's door had been closed since yesterday, and none of them really knew how to approach it, how to approach him. It wasn't just the mood hanging in the air, because it was also suffocating, but rather the fact that they heard everything.
They couldn't just waltz in and ask what happened, because San knew they had heard, even though he most likely would love to forget about that part.
But they knew San needed them, even though he wouldn't come outside, talk to them out of pure will - they knew. Wooyoung ended up cooking for him, it was a bit as if it was a we're sorry for listening soup, but also a we're here for you.
Yunho knocked softly on the door, all three of them stepping in after the muffled and tired, "Come in" from the other side. They felt like they didn't really fit in that room.
They pushed the peace offering forward, "We made you soup," Yunho said, scratching his neck. "Well, Woo did, but we helped spiritually." an awkward chuckle left his lips, and San gave him a soft smile. "How are you?"
San shrugged, taking the bowl and dipping the spoon in. "You look like shit," Mingi said automatically, but his voice and face softened when San didn't react. Yunho shot him a look, saying, "So not the time, bro."
All of them took a seat on the bed around him. "Did you sleep at all?" Yunho questioned again, mindful of San's feelings - unlike our jokester over there - San shook his head, eyes fixed on the soup as he took another slow spoonful. "What happened after she left?"
San didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stirred the soup slowly, the spoon clinking softly against the bowl. "What would've?" his voice small, distant. He doesn't explain further, but continues fidgeting. He feels… numb. He knew the probability of this happening when he asked you yesterday, but hoped for another outcome, but hoping only gets you so far.
Why did he need to have labels on something that worked? If something is not broken, you don't have to go out of your way to try to fix it. Why push until it broke? You were just not his, and admitting that to himself, even not out loud, made this crippling, aching feeling tighten in his chest.
"She knew I couldn't do casual," he shrugged off the words as if they didn't matter, "yet she stayed." his voice had this vulnerable edge to it.
"You knew she couldn't do serious either," Wooyoung spoke up; he might've been blunt, but his expression held tenderness and love towards his friend, which none of them had seen before - not this directly, at least.
"She didn't stay for months, because she didn't care." Mingi fidgeted with his sweatpants' string.
In San's eyes, it was too late to wonder about that. He also kept pondering it throughout the night - why did you stay? What was it that made you stay? For such a length of time, nonetheless. Why did it feel like something more when you fought skin and blood about it being just casual?
But all of these questions lost relevance when you shut the door behind you last night. Because whatever it was, it was too much for you, and certainly not enough for him. He could cling to this sadness and pain with all his might, but it wouldn't change a thing.
His grip tightens around the bowl; maybe Wooyoung was right all along. You might've been teaching him to be on his toes all the time, scared that you might leave any moment if something doesn't happen the way you want it.
But if you were such a bad person, why did it all feel so good?
He exhaled loudly, silence settling louder in the room than it was before as he set the empty ceramic on the nightstand. "Doesn't matter now," he mutters, pulling the covers higher up on his body, "she made that part very clear." The guys share a glance on the spot on his bed, not pushing further.
"I'm fine," San speaks up again, noticing their concern. The words seem to be enough, at least enough for them to understand to drop the topic. Even though nothing about him seems fine.
And just like that, it stopped. They didn't nag San anymore. The girls didn't ask for more from you either, and most importantly. No more late-night texts, Mingi doesn't hear your soft footsteps along the dimly lit hallways at four am, and Minjeong doesn't see the soft glow on you anymore either.
Studies were there to distract you both from something that couldn't quite be named. Tears could be easily buried under deadlines, thesis papers, and exhaustion. You avoided the Greek row as if it were the plague, and he did the same with your apartment building - making both of your walks longer with ten minutes minimum.
This all wasn't intentional from either of you.
But no matter how many times you told yourself this in the mirror, even you couldn't believe it.
Weeks passed, then months. Routes only got longer, and the tension didn't disappear either; it just settled, deep both in your guts, waiting for the day it would be resolved.
"Guys," the apartment door swings open with more force than necessary. Jimin's voice cuts through the chatter before she even steps into the room. Her bag slips from one shoulder as she wrestles her shoes off. All eyes snap to her instantly.
"What's up?" Aeri asks, already suspicious from Jimin's tone alone.
She grins, a little breathless as she explains with big hand gestures, "Yeonjun is planning a trip out of the city, after the exams."
"A trip?" Yizhuo straightens.
"Yes, exactly. We'll go drive down, party some in the good weather for a few days," Yeonjun explains to the guys across campus.
"Bro-" Mingi's voice echoes through the shared space, as he fist bumps San, who sits there grinning ear to ear.
"Say less," Yunho says, his own smile wide on his face.
"Who's coming?" Mingi leans back into the couch, arms crossed against his broad chest.
"Everyone basically," so helpful, Yeonjun. "Us, Jimin, other girls." The room reacts instantly, voices overlapping in happiness, laughter everywhere.
"A break does sound so fucking good right now," Wooyoung whines, his own happiness sitting out on his features, "The first good idea you had in a while, YJ," he teases the brown-haired guy, who just rolls his eyes in response.
"I helped him come up with it," Jimin explained to you, hands crossed across her chest with delight, back at the apartment.
Minjeong glances at you for a minute before responding, "Yeah, we could use that," and just like that, it's almost as if it was written in stone.
Exams came and went in a blur, with way too many Red Bull cans crashed in distress, all-nighters, and forced focus - everyone too busy to think about anything else, until now.
Windows rolled down in Jimin's car, music loudly flying around the space, mixing with the warm air. Laughter filled the space between sentences, words overlapping in playful arguments, and also, way too many bags filled the boot.
"I swear to God the business prof sets us up for failure every time," Yizhuo groans from beside you in the backseat.
"But you passed, didn't you?" you questioned, smile wide on your face. Jimin's fingers tapped rhythmically against the wheel, her eyes finding yours every now and then in the mirror.
Minjeong turns to you from the passenger seat, "How did you even finish your essay in time?"
"Just tried to make it sound smart," you shrug.
"And she succeeded," Aeri scoffs, her hair whipping around in the wind.
"Fake it 'til you make it," Jimin speaks up, which is followed by some more laughter, turning into more banter, and for the first time in a while, everything feels… easy.
The car rolls up to a smaller street, and it comes to a stop in front of a large, modern house, sunlight reflecting off the windows, like in the movies.
"Okay- this is fucking insane," Aeri breathes out.
"Yeonjun did say he went all out," Jimin grins, already unbuckling herself, and so do the others, "I was honestly scared to let him do the booking alone," she chuckled.
You step out of the car, stretching your hands above your head slightly, eyes scanning the landscape. Trimmed bushes along the driveway, which already had two cars parked, your gaze settling on one of them, something about it feeling familiar, making you frown a bit, but the thought fades as fast as it came.
The moment you step inside, you hear it, laughter, music blasting and water splashing from somewhere deep in the house. "Pool's out back," Jimin explains, and starts heading towards the noise.
The patio doors are open, revealing multiple sunbeds, a pool full of men playing with a comically large ball, and a very familiar tan back. His head falls back with laughter, missing the throw entirely.
But your stomach drops at the domestic sight, all the music static in your ears, freezing in your steps momentarily. At the commotion, the game stops and all faces turn to your group.
His smile drops instantly. Body stills mid-turn, and his eyes meet yours. Everything gone, just the two of you, all the unsaid words, the times you both thought about each other in the time spent apart.
"Babe-" Jimin laughs, running past you straight into Yeonjun's arms, pressing a kiss to his lips. The moment between you breaks, music comes crashing back, greetings yelled over it, with some laughter, and splashing of water. You nod at something Aeri says, but you haven't registered a word she said.
San breaks eye contact, jaw tightening as he looks away first.
Fuck.
You haven't actually realised how hard it would be to see him after all these months. It was the same as before, but now you know the taste of his lips and the way his eyebrows scrunch when he laughs. And fuck, did you miss it.
Minjeong was the first to notice it, a little yelp left your mouth as she pinched you, getting your head back into the conversation, and hopefully clear from San. "Gonna show you guys the bedrooms, alright?" Yeonjun's hands clapped together, as he showed the way.
The furnishing was just as beautiful as the outside. The hallway upstairs had five doors, three on the right and two on the left. "You guys fight for the roomings, actually," he chuckled, "we have 2 for you to split, and Jimin is sleeping with me."
—
You leaned back on the sunbed, shades sliding down your nose, while the girls fussed over cocktails in the kitchen. From the patio, you could see San and the guys tossing a beach ball in the pool, laughing too loudly, too carefree. The bubble of laughter felt almost like a shield, separating you from him. And maybe you liked it that way.
Later, when the music got louder and the sun dipped lower, you found yourself in the kitchen. Glass in hand, you noticed Minjeong and Wooyoung exchanging something small - a look, a smirk, a secret joke - before returning to the group. You couldn’t help the pang of curiosity that flickered in your chest.
That same night, the sand slid around in your sandals. Loud music played everywhere around you, the table was sticky with spilt drinks, and full of laughter.
"-and then he fucking screamed like a little girl," Soobin wiped the tears of happiness from his eyes.
"That's actually not how it was!" Mingi tried to defend himself, but everyone was too deep in laughter to notice his argument.
Tonight, somehow, everyone had too much to drink except you, and the virgin Pina Colada you were nursing won't help your case. San was sitting on the other corner of the table, his head thrown back, adam's apple on full show. He looked easy. As if nothing was weighing on him.
The chatter continued until a loud yawn interrupted Yunho mid-talking. "Sorry to be a party killer, but I am gonna crash," Minjeong stood from the table, her legs wobbling a bit under her weight. Hopefully she didn't mean it in the literal sense.
"Already?" came from Jimin, who was having problems keeping her head up. Talk about alcohol tolerance.
"It's nearly three am," The other girl chuckled and stifled another yawn. The task of waving to everyone at the table and walking to the sliding door seemed too much for her, and she tripped over her own legs.
"I'm gonna help her get to her room," Wooyoung chuckled, but almost had just as much to drink as her, and their steps quietened up on the stairs. Jimin was the next to be escorted to their room by Yeonjun, who saluted as they left.
Eventually, the clicking of glasses and laughter grew quieter, the music also lowered in volume somewhere along the way, and the last three remaining were Soobin, San, and you.
Soobin was still talking about something, hands gesturing wildly, but no words that came out of his mouth reached your ears. San was twirling a straw in his glass. It’s stupid, really, the way your brain fills in details you tried to forget for months - the curve of his mouth, that little wrinkle near his eyes.
Suddenly, his face turns towards you, eyes raking over your face in a soft but subtle way. You look away immediately, embarrassment burning your cheeks "I'm gonna head in," your voice cuts off Soobin, he barely reacts, but San does.
"Yeah," he mutters, standing a second after you, "same."
The house is quiet after the mumbled goodnights, not silent but softened. Some chuckles are coming from upstairs, heated conversations on a TV that has been left on, and your steps on the wood stairs under you, in sync with San's.
The second you step into the room, you are reaching for your bag, desperate to get into more comfortable clothes, but the silence makes you pause. The bed is untouched, Minjeong's side is exactly how you left it in the morning. Your eyebrows knit slightly, but you don't think much of it, just grab your things and head to the bathroom.
The water is hot, hotter than what you're used to, but even this doesn't really help. He is still there. Not even the memory of the nights spent together, but him earlier, sitting across you as if nothing had happened.
You tilt your head back, eyes closed, as the steaming hot water washes down your face. It would've been easier if it were nothing. If you had stopped feeling the guilt eating away your soul every time you look at him.
If only you would've realised the truth in his words while you were in the same room as him.
Your hand presses against the tile; the smooth surface hasn't taken the warmth over yet, and the cold grounds you before you turn the water off.
The hallway is cold when you step out. The salty sea breeze cools the house through the open windows. You take a few steps before you notice someone sitting at the end of the hallway, a blue light illuminating his face.
Not in his room, not sleeping, just slouched in the armchair. "You're not in your bed?" Perfect observation, champ, keep it up.
San's mouth moves into something that isn't quite a smile, "Neither are you." Confusion takes over you a second before it all clicks while looking at the closed door of the room he shares with Wooyoung.
"Oh."
He lets out a quiet breath, leaning further into his chair, with a smile fully taking over his features, "Yeah,"
"So what… you just stay out here all night?"
"That was the plan, yes."
You shake your head before you can think about it, "That's stupid,"
His eyebrows lift slightly, "You got a better idea?"
You hesitate, because you know you shouldn't, but the words come anyway; you lost control over them a long time ago. "You can just take the other side of my bed."
He sits up, back straightening, eyes piercing you, trying to figure out if you are serious. "Your bed?"
You shrug a little too quickly as a response, "We both know Minjeong isn't coming back tonight."
His jaw tightens, as if he is actually considering the offer. Your palms are sweating, heartbeat way too loud in your ears for your liking, "And you?" he questions, eyebrows still furrowed on his forehead.
"I mean," you let out a small breath, "It's not like it matters,"
His eyes flicker, something unreadable passing in them, overtaking his previous sceptical look. "Right."
"Unless you'd rather sit here all night," you say, crossing your arms over your chest, already turning on your heels towards the bedroom.
He grunts behind you as he stands from the chair, mumbling something sounding awfully a lot like "You're unbelievable," yet he is still following you…
And you end up back in the room, but now with a companion. The mattress dips behind you, while you stare out the window, unmovingly, as if staying still enough would make this feel somewhat normal.
"I could've also taken the couch," he mutters, voice muffled over the cover near his mouth.
"And what's stopping you? Oh, wait, I know, Soobin. Who is already sleeping there," you state matter-of-factly, rolling your eyes so hard it almost makes a sound.
"I was fine," he huffs.
"Sure you were."
Silence stretches over the room, but it's thinner this time, tainted with tension, and every unsaid word that is begging to escape both of your lips.
"You always do that," he says suddenly. Looks like he might not hold those words back.
"Do what, exactly?"
"Act like nothing means anything." his words hit you hard, like another hit on your self-esteem, slowly crumbling the walls down you had no idea were already torn. The saliva you try to swallow feels like a thousand needles in your throat.
"W-what do you mean by that?" your throat starts clogging up even more, breaths stagger, and you feel him shift behind you.
You can feel his breath on your back, eyes burning holes into the back of your head, "You disappeared." his voice is uncertain, doubting the words he is giving a voice to.
"I didn't-" hands clenching the soft comforter.
"You did." His voice holds more sternness now, but it's still not loud, which somehow makes it worse "You decided it didn't matter, so I went along with it." the silence crept back into the room, but now it felt thicker, blocking your airways.
You sat up in bed, quickly turning towards him, eyes wide with disbelief, "That's not what happened." the words raggedly left your mouth, as you felt tears pearling at your eyes.
He is already looking at you, "Then what did?" his expression is soft, almost broken. His lips drag out the syllables of your name, "Tell me," his hand reaches out to you, but stops midway, grounding himself from the feeling of your skin on his.
"I thought that’s what you wanted," you admit, barely above a whisper, gaze falling to the comforter that's in your tight, shaking grip - anywhere but on him. "I thought that's what I needed," the words finally leave your mouth, making your chest feel lighter.
"I-I thought having a connection without feelings would make it all easier," your chest heaves with deep breaths, "No expectations, no pressure, just… something I could walk away from when it got too much." said out loud, it sounds harsh, so mean.
"I thought if I didn’t call it anything, it wouldn’t-" a hiccup halts your sentence, because when you were too lost in your words, tears started streaming down your face, but these weren't the hysterical, loud and angry tears they were last time, no. They were soft, delicate and more importantly, real. Something you haven't told anyone before, it didn't hold relevance; the less they knew, the easier it was.
But it was never meant to be easy with San.
"-it wouldn’t hurt when it ended." the room filled with your sobs and shaky breaths that bounced off the wall mockingly, because San didn't say anything. Heat creeps up on your cheeks and ears, burning hot under your skin, making the pounding of your head even worse now. It's loud, louder than the silence he doesn’t fill.
You drag in a shaky breath, realisation hitting you as a cold wind, making you quickly wipe at your cheeks with the back of your hand. "Forget it," you mutter, voice small, already retreating. "I shouldn’t have-" you shake your head, turning away from him, curling in on yourself as if you can take it all back if you don't see him.
The pounding intensifies in your head, but now it's accompanied by loud thoughts that scream at you, of course he doesn’t say anything. Why would he? You never knew when to stop. The silence stretches just long enough to make your chest ache, too.
But then the mattress shifts, not away but closer. Your whole body stills, holding in the sobs that want to shake your chest with the force. His movements are stalled, hovering over you for a second, trying to decide if he is allowed actually to do this, but then it softly settles around your wrist, not pulling or forcing you, just holding.
"Hey," his lips wrap around the syllables of your name again. It sounds so pretty coming from his mouth, it still makes your breath stutter, and hesitate about turning back to him. "Look at me," you shake your head immediately, and it makes his grip tighten slightly, not to the point where it hurts; it's just more assertive now. "Don't do that," he murmurs, and it sounds just like it did all those months ago, but now it's him saying it so softly.
"You don’t get to say all that to disappear on me again," his voice is low, vulnerable just like yours was before closing off.
Your breath stutters again, chest rising unevenly as you try to steady it. "I'm not-" your voice breaks, and you squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head against the pillow, "I'm not disappearing." but the words do nothing to reassure him, or you, for that matter.
His thumb shifts slightly against your wrist in a soothing way. It's small, almost unnoticeable, as if he were testing the space between you. "Then stop acting like you are," he says quietly.
Your lips press together, but another sob slips through anyway, softer this time; your body is giving up on holding them in. "I don’t know what you want me to do," you admit, the words barely making it out.
You feel it before you see it - his grip tightening just a little more, his body shifting closer behind you.
"Stay," the words sound simple coming from his mouth, he isn't even demanding, but then why does it feel like it? Your chest aches at how easy that sounds.
"It’s not that easy," you whisper.
"I know," his voice is now a mere whisper, "but you’re making this harder than it needs to be." his faintness makes you consider turning back to face him, finally, after all the words spoken, for the first time.
Then, slowly, you turn; his hands don't leave your wrist; if anything, they reassure you in your movement. He is closer than you expect, close enough that you feel his breath on your tear-stained cheeks, close enough that you can see the way his expression softens the second you look at him.
He is still the same guy who called you out on your insecurities and wanted to help you change for you, with you. Maybe feelings aren't as bad as you thought, or you just need someone you know you will be safe with. Because they were always there, maybe not in the form of labels or words, but rather unconsious actions.
And when his arms pulled you closer into his embrace, you didn't think about the time, or the fastest escape route; you just let yourself enjoy it.
—
"Pass me some eggs, YJ," Wooyoung ordered in the kitchen, which quickly became his territory around the Airbnb - after Soobin and Mingi almost burnt it down on day one. There was no fooling around when he was there, just order and discipline.
So when you and San walked in, quietly arguing over the coffee machine - bumping shoulders, nudging each other out of the way between half-suppressed laughs - Wooyoung was already seconds away from snapping. Until he looked at you.
His hands were working on the scrambled eggs in front of him, but his eyes bounced between the two of you, and then quickly clicked with Yunho and Mingi's gazes, whose eyes were just as wide.
"What got you looking like that, Jung?" Yeonjun mumbles through a mouthful of toast.
Jimin immediately smacks the back of his head. "Swallow first. God."
"Ew," Aeri grimaces from across the table.
Wooyoung shook his head in response, all words stuck in his throat as he watched the scene unfold in front of him.
"What are we looking at?" Yeonjun questioned again, but this time in a hushed tone from Jimin, when he realised even she and the other girls were staring at you - but all for different reasons.
Yunho, Mingi, and Wooyoung exchange glances - caught off guard by how… easy San looks next to you. As if what started after the year-opening party never ended, it was just put on hold.
On the other side of the kitchen, Jimin, Aeri, and Yizhuo watch you instead. Not the interaction, but you. The way you didn't hide your emotions, and let your expressions give it away. They only saw the little smiles at your phone or the post-meeting glow on you, never you actually interacting with a man.
Yeonjun's eyes snapped to Soobin with a silent question, but Soobin only shrugged and continued eating his breakfast.
What they didn’t know was that this started hours earlier.
When you first opened your eyes, something weighted your waist down, heavy and warm. You don't turn around immediately, but you don't run to free yourself from the embrace either. That’s new.
"Morning," San's voice comes, rough with sleep, being awoken by your subtle stirring.
You exhale slowly and let yourself get lost in the feeling of his arms - trying to rewrite it in your head as something safe, instead of something suffocating. "Morning,"
He lets himself enjoy the feeling too before he asks, "So… what now?"
Your body reacts before your mind does - muscles tightening instinctively - but this time, your thoughts don’t spiral with it. "I don’t know," you admit, and for once, you don’t hate how that sounds.
He is silent after your words for a few seconds, "Okay."
"Okay?" you repeat.
He shrugs lightly, but there’s something steadier underneath it. "We'll figure it out."
And by the time you walked into the kitchen, it showed.
—
The car door slammed shut behind Yizhuo, who was the last to get in, as Jimin was already reversing out of the driveway. "I barely sat down!" Her voice was loud over the already-screaming music and laughter in the car. The usual banter started - actually resuming the one from breakfast.
When you finally got out of the car, that's only when you noticed how irkedly Jimin and Minjeong eyed you. They had this unreadable expression on their faces, but didn't mention anything about it.
The mall was a bit smaller than the one near the university you usually went to, but it had just as good stuff. "This is so cute!" Yizhuo exclaimed, her pitch jumping up an octave.
"Don't steer away from the topic, Yiz!" Jimin huffed because, for once, the younger girl had someone clearly interested in her - other than Aeri, but we don't talk about that. "He was clearly staring at you!"
"Yunho is not subtle," Minjeong adds with a giggle, her hands threading through some clothes on a hanger. "Well, he is more subtle than someone else,"
"What’s that supposed to mean?" you ask, glancing over from another row, a soft heat flushing your cheeks.
"You know the thing some people did earlier in the kitchen?" Minjeong continued, and the others chuckled, "Well, that wasn't-"
"Okay," you cut her off, your hands coming up in front of your face, hiding your smile.
While back at the house, the others were on the same questioning principle, "So," Mingi starts, dragging the word out as he leans back in the sunbed.
San doesn’t even look up. "Don’t."
"I didn’t even say anything yet."
"You were about to."
"Yeah, because what even was that in the kitchen?" Yeonjun speaks up; he is still clueless after all…
Wooyoung slaps a hand on his back, "And you don’t even know half of it," he says through puckled lips.
"Well, we talked," San finally lets out with a sigh, "When the other day, Wooyoung decided to put me out of our bedroom without prior consultation," his voice gets louder with every word and shoots his best friend a playful glare.
Wooyoung's cheeks heat as the others' eyes bounce between them. "Wait, what?" Yunho questions.
"Nothing, tell me more about what you talked about." Wooyoung quickly averted their attention to the more important matter.
"We’re… figuring it out."
Mingi lets out a low whistle. "That sounds serious."
"You’re blushing." Your head snaps back up at Aeri’s voice, hand still half-covering your face.
"I’m not," you mumble, already turning away, pretending to be very interested in a random rack of clothes.
"You are," Yizhuo sings, stepping closer, eyes narrowing playfully. "This is new." she stretched the last word.
"Are you sure you want to do this again with San?" your smile falters for just a second. Not enough for anyone to fully catch it - but enough for you to feel and think. "…Yeah," you nod, but the silence is immediate and heavy between the five of you.
"Do what again?" Yizhuo is the one to break the quiet first.
"Wait- what?" Aeri's face contorts into further confusion.
But Jimin's features light up, her eyes wandering around as she pieces it together. "San was the guy you hid from us?" Her tone was soft, trying so hard not to sound accusatory, just curious. As the words leave her mouth, it dawns on the other two, their jaws dropping silently.
Your cheeks are burning, muscles tightening, and for the second time today, your mind remains clear, enabling you to answer, "Yes." Your voice is not much louder than the shop's commercial music echoing off the walls.
Your body still doesn't respond well to the stress. Your shoulders stay tense, your stomach twisting slightly, like it’s still bracing for something that never comes. Because instead of the reactions you expect - the disappointment, the questions - they’re just staring at you.
And then they are- squealing? what.
"Oh my god!" Yizhuo forces out, her voice jumping straight to whistle notes as she says your name, "You talked it out?"
"No- wait, wait," Aeri interrupts, hands gesturing in front of her wildly, "How'd- When- What?" she giggles at her own stutters, "Wow, I am actually done for." that makes all of you laugh. The comfortable atmosphere returns as if it never even left.
"Well, we were kinda forced to resolve it," you murmur, eyes pointedly everywhere but at them. letting silence take its place for a second, as you carefully choose your words, but fuck it. "He slept in my room last night."
"What?" they all say in unison, gaye averting to Minjeong, whose turn is to be all flustered now.
"Then where did you sleep?" Jimin points at her, jaw dropping to the point where it seems inconsiderate to other shoppers.
"I think we should grab a coffee and sit down somewhere," came the proposition from the pink-haired girl, whose eyes were still wide and starved for information.
Talking over coffee suddenly seemed easier; words came from you with ease, answering questions each of them had, one by one. While still staying onpoint wth every little detail, and parts they already knew. By the time you finished, all eyes were averted to Minjeong, who thought she would be let off the hook - but boy, every secret came to sunlight today.
"I don't know what to tell you guys," she sighed, eyes glinting in a similar way she always told yours were. "We are together when we can be, And… It’s far more than casual." Four very loud gasps grabbed the attention of everyone in the cafe. "We just don't know if we're ready to tell everyone,"
Understanding nods, and words were directed at Minjeong as she played with the straw of her drink, flustered under all the attention.
"Okay, one thing, guys," Aeri spoke up after a few seconds of comfortable silence, pointing between all of you. "No more hiding stuff like this. I can’t handle another reveal like that." she laughs along with you, "I'm not joking- I might die."
For the first time since everything started - it doesn’t feel like something you have to hide. Not from them. Not anymore.
—
By the time you get back, the house is settled into this soft, casual afternoon. The last rays of the setting sun light up the Airbnb, with everyone retreated into their own quiet corners. You barely settle, step out to the patio when you hear his voice calling out your name.
"You're back."
You glance up at him, smile wide with his dimples, as he forgets about the phone in his hand as if he'd only been half-paying attention to whatever was on it in the first place. "Yeah," you hum, smile mirroring his, "We survived it."
His smile deepens at that, "Barely?"
"Barely." You both think the other went through a similar script while you were apart, but assumptions need to be asserted; we can't have another miscommunication… "I told them."
His expression stills for a second, but not in a panicked way; he is just… Waiting. "All of it?"
You nod, leaning back against the sliding door, "Pretty much,"
"I'm glad," he exhales softly, as if something unclenches in him finally. And his words are enough to make your own chest feel lighter, too.
"They didn't freak out… as much as I thought they would." you chuckle, feeling like you need to fill the silence with him - not because it’s uncomfortable, but because you like talking to him. Because he listens. "They’re probably going to be… annoying about it now," you mutter.
"They already are," he says, a hint of amusement slipping through, making you laugh, stopping just beside him now. Not too close, but close enough that your shoulder brushes his for half a second. Why does this feel harder than when it was just physical? Neither of you moves, settling into each other’s quiet warmth.
And for once, it doesn’t feel like something you have to overthink.
