drabble — jisung loves it when he learned something new about you, and uses it for his own advantage
Han Jisung had noticed it weeks ago.
Every time he buried himself deep inside you, your eyes would drift up from his face to the thin silver chain around his neck. The small pendant, a sleek, smooth obsidian teardrop would swing with every brutal thrust, catching the low light of your bedroom and drawing your gaze like a magnet. Your lips would part, breath hitching, pupils blown wide as you followed its rhythmic dance above you. It was almost like the pendant hypnotized you, pulling your focus even as pleasure wrecked your body.
Tonight, he decided to test just how much power it held.
He had you on your back, thighs spread wide around his hips, his cock sliding in and out of your soaked pussy with a slow, deliberate rhythm that made your walls flutter around him. Sweat glistened on his collarbones. His hips rolled steadily, cock dragging against your walls with every thrust. You moaned, nails digging into his back, but something felt… off.
Your forehead creased in confusion. Your eyes flicked up to his neck, searching. No chain. No pendant. Just smooth, sweat-slick skin and the rapid flutter of his pulse. There was nothing for your gaze to latch onto, nothing to follow, nothing to hypnotize you. Your mind started to wander even as pleasure pulsed through your body. You tried to focus on his face, his dark eyes, his parted lips—but your attention kept drifting back to that empty space where the necklace usually swayed.
Jisung smirked, noticing immediately.
“Something wrong, baby?” he asked, voice laced with teasing as he rolled his hips, grinding against that sweet spot inside you. “You look so distracted tonight.”
You bit your lip, trying to stay focused, but another deep thrust made your eyes flutter. Still, your forehead stayed creased. The pleasure was there, intense and building, but it felt… incomplete. Your mind wouldn’t settle.
He kept going, fucking you with steady, punishing strokes, never reaching for the necklace. Minutes passed. Your breathing grew more erratic, not just from the pleasure, but from the strange restlessness in your head. You couldn’t sink fully into it. Couldn’t let go.
Jisung leaned down, lips brushing your ear as he drove into you harder.
“You’re clenching around me so tight, but your eyes keep wandering. Can’t stop looking for it, huh?”
You whimpered, cheeks burning with embarrassment. He was enjoying this too much. Another particularly deep thrust made you moan loudly, but your mind was still fractured, searching for that missing anchor.
Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore.
“Ji…” you gasped out, voice shaky and needy between moans. “Where’s your necklace? Please… put it on.”
The words tumbled out before you could stop them. Your voice sounded embarrassingly desperate, even to your own ears. Jisung’s hips stuttered for a second, a wicked grin spreading across his face.
“There it is,” he chuckled darkly, sounding satisfied. “My greedy girl finally admitted it.”
He slowed his thrusts just enough to reach over to the nightstand, grabbing the silver chain. He slipped it around his neck, letting the smooth obsidian pendant settle against his chest. The moment it appeared, your eyes locked onto it like a magnet. The crease in your forehead instantly smoothed out, replaced by that glassy, hypnotized look he loved so much.
“Fuck… there you go,” he groaned, feeling your pussy flutter hard around his cock the second your gaze found the pendant. “That’s what you needed, wasn’t it?”
He started moving again, building back up to a relentless rhythm. The pendant began to swing above you with every powerful thrust, back and forth, catching the light. Your eyes followed it obsessively, pupils blown wide, mind finally quieting as pleasure flooded every nerve.
Jisung gripped your thighs, spreading you wider as he pounded into you.
“Open,” he ordered.You parted your lips instantly. He leaned forward, letting the warm pendant rest on your tongue. Your mouth closed around it, sucking eagerly as he fucked you even harder. The chain tugged against his neck with every brutal snap of his hips, the pendant shifting between your lips in perfect sync with his cock driving deep inside you.
“That’s my good girl,” he growled, voice rough with arousal. “Sucking on it so desperately after pretending you didn’t need it. So fucking hypnotized now, aren’t you?”
Your moans came out muffled and wet around the pendant as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter. The relentless rhythm, the thick stretch of his cock, and the warm weight on your tongue completely overwhelmed you.
Jisung’s hand slid up to hold your jaw gently as he railed you. “Cum for me while you’re sucking on it, baby. Let me feel how much better it is when you have this.”
Your orgasm slammed into you hard, body shaking violently as your walls pulsed around him. Jisung groaned loudly, burying himself deep and spilling inside you as he rode out both your highs, the pendant still trapped between your eager lips.
When he finally pulled back, the glistening pendant slipped from your mouth with a wet pop. He looked down at your blissed-out face with a proud, predatory smile.
minho’s got a crush, and he’s far from casual about it. but he was wrong about just how perfect you are for him.
𝓬ontains: dark themes. f!reader x minho. yandere. college au. nerdy minho. stalking. jealousy. perversion. unreliable narrator. brief violence. masturbation. he cums from kissing. wrote him subby oops. 18+
𝓷otes: as voted by u guys, minho is the skz member most likely to be a yandere (no one is surprised). like usual i’m writing this while sleepy + smut might be buns + didn’t proofread but enjoyy
minho’s hand slithers between his legs like clockwork. it’s a nightly routine, he can’t sleep without you.
eyelids fluttering shut, minho replays the day in his head: every glorious glimpse of you flashes through his mind as he palms himself through the fabric of his boxers. slowly, just until he gets to the good part.
every moment in passing is a delicacy. all of your little quirks he has the honour of witnessing: the cute ones and the annoying ones too.
the flick of your hair when you laughed with that girl in class. the way you chewed on the end of your pen when you thought no one’s looking. minho is, of course. he never isn’t. whether you’re aware of that or not.
he knows your schedule down to the minute— he could probably recite it faster than his own birthday. there were no ins or outs of your day that minho wasn’t already familiar with. it’s impressive, how he knows each of your steps before you take them.
minho tugs his waistband down, sighing as he wraps a tight fist around himself. he thinks back to when he ‘ran into’ you at the café, a smile adorning your face when you recognised him from your shared class. you spared him a brief hello. it’s almost like you were asking to be followed for the rest of the day.
the memory of it— the sweet sound of your voice— has minho bucking up into his hand. he hisses through his teeth. not so soon.
he recalls watching you in the library from his table, situated in a dark corner. you were sat by the window, biting your nails down to the cuticle as you studied. you poor thing. minho would eagerly rush to your side if all you did was ask.
you hadn’t noticed him— your very own eagle-eyed audience. of course not. you never did. that’s where the whole thrill arouses.
he groans, twitching in his hand as he replays the memory of following you in the shadows that afternoon. you walked through the campus with your head in the clouds— earbuds in, bag hanging off your shoulder. you were the textbook definition of a perfect target. what would you do if someone tried to steal your bag, or worse?
you needed him there. always. a pace behind, a corner away. to be the eyes in the back of your head. to pick up after you.
the receipts you’d forget to bin. the pen you dropped three weeks ago. your bracelet that went missing (he’s keeping it safe, don’t worry). a straw with a smudge of your lipgloss. items thoughtlessly discarded by you found a new purpose in his care.
minho’s walls were a shrine to you: quick sketches, blurry polaroids, messy love-letters. sometimes, he’ll drop one off at your desk before class— always unsigned, always sweet. sometimes he’d get a giggle out of you. sometimes you just crumpled them without reading. doesn’t matter. he’ll keep writing them.
minho grits his teeth, hips jutting into his hand at a crazed pace. he chases his release to his favourite fantasy— the one where you’d catch him lurking.
some nights you liked it, took it as a compliment. some nights you didn’t and he was a creep. sometimes you screamed, other times you begged. but this time, most delicious of all, he pictured you sighing; saying you were done with pretending, grabbing a fistful of his hair before bruising his lips with yours.
but that thought didn’t last long. when his breath slowed and the heat left his body, all that remained was agonising silence.
minho opened his eyes to the sticky disappointment of reality on his hand. a reminder that he still barely even existed to you— though not in the way he intends to.
not yet.
it started small. he hadn’t recognised it as anything out of the ordinary before it had spiralled out of his grasp.
first it was a missing worksheet from his desk. he chalked it up to just misplacing it, or perhaps someone else thought it was rubbish.
after there was a drawing torn from his sketchbook. odd, but maybe it was one he’d jacked off to and accidentally stained the paper. he simply ripped it off and forgot all about it.
then the pen he’d stolen from your bag was gone. vanished in thin air from where he’d tucked it, wrapped in crusted tissue under his mattress. maybe being swamped with assessments the past week had burned holes in his memory. maybe.
but then his glasses disappeared.
minho tore his room apart for hours, practically flipping the furniture upside-down to find them. he only ever took them off in his room where they’d sit on his nightstand. always. he knew because he lived in routine. in control.
except now he wasn’t in control.
his world blurred at the edges without them. and in that distorted fog, he started seeing you differently. more distant. less reachable. because suddenly, you weren’t alone anymore.
minho squinted from across the courtyard, peering from behind the vending machines. in his hazy vision, he could just make out your figure, along with your new companion.
the guy was tall, broad-shouldered, arm permanently slung over your shoulder. you looked up at him, laughter ringing sirens in minho’s ears. his nails bit crescent moons into his palms.
“who is that?” minho turned to hyunjin, tone too forced to be casual. he smirked when he noticed minho’s scowl.
"jealous?" he teased, sipping his iced coffee. “relax. that’s not her boyfriend.”
minho doesn’t answer. a fuck buddy? he might just vomit in his mouth.
"that’s her brother, chris. i see him around the gym.”
minho went still. brother?
he watched the way chris stood too close, the way his eyes scanned every guy in a five-foot radius like he was already picking targets.
chris didn’t carry himself like a brother. he was more like a bodyguard. or a threat. minho doesn’t take kindly to threats.
“heard he shanked a guy back in high-school over her.” hyunjin adds, lowering his voice. “he seems scary protective. me personally, i’d back off.”
“well i’m not you, am i?” minho bites. hyunjin just nods, not one to argue.
minho tries to ignore it. he wouldn’t expect hyunjin to understand— no one does. what’s between you and minho is something beyond words. you feel it too, he’s sure of it.
he’ll prove it.
after a streak of major inconveniences, luck is finally on minho’s side when one evening, you walk past him as you leave the campus— alone.
like a dog chasing cars, he can’t help himself to following you, feet moving faster than his mind.
minho shadows you down a side street off the campus. he contemplates how he’ll make his grand move. this could be the mere seconds leading up to your love story’s beginning.
he imagines brushing his hand against yours as he walks by, apologising as he realises it’s you. he’ll say something clever, pull you aside. ask where you’re going and offer to take you there. then maybe, you’ll finally see him.
he didn’t hear the footsteps behind him until it was too late.
a fist cracks into his jaw, sharp and merciless. minho’s back collides with the brick wall— he stumbles on his feet, tasting copper.
"think i didn’t see you?"
minho’s eyes flutter open, just barely recognising the voice as chris. the fucking brother.
"back off. before i do something worse than this,” chris reaches for him— minho writhing in his hold as pain sears across his face. chris’s fingers caved in on the mark blooming onto minho’s cheek. a reminder.
and then he was gone, just like that. fucked off after you, probably to go tell you about how minho was a perverted deranged stalker and other preposterous lies like that so now minho had to get a fucking gun and just air out the block because he has nothing to lose anymore.
his vision throbbed with each heartbeat. he crouched against the wall, flinching at his own touch as his fingers brushed over what chris had left him with.
his cheek would bruise. he'd have to lie to hyunjin. he might never get to see your smile directed at him again.
but one thing was certain. what once hadn’t occurred to him, he could see clear as day now:
chris was sabotaging him. he’d been taunting him— dangling minho’s infatuation with you over his head. he’d stolen his glasses. he made him think he was crazy.
minho wiped the blood from his lip, rubbing it between his fingers.
chris had been watching minho when he had been watching you.
and minho’s sorry, he really is. you know he’d never hurt you. but chris was coming between what had yet to blossom between you and minho.
so chris has to go.
minho’s hands were still was he slipped the lock. he was cool, collected. he’d lived this scenario out hundreds of times before in his own head.
you dorm was quiet, just like he knew it would be. you had study group tonight, each week at the same time. minho had an hour, maybe less. but he’ll make do.
he moved quickly, careful not to disturb the things he already knew by heart. your shelf with trinkets and books collecting dust. your calendar that he already knew the contents of. the string of prints clipped above your desk, which he resisted the urge to shred the ones with chris. he hated seeing you smile for him. for any man that wasn’t minho.
he’s out for blood now.
minho headed for your dresser, eyes trained on the bottom drawer. he needed leverage in order to bury chris completely. it had to be something twisted. something to make people question the ‘protective brother’ shtick. something he could plant, fabricate, frame.
his hand reached into the drawer, and his fingers brushed lace. he paused.
he shouldn’t.
he does.
he fists the fabric in his hand, bringing it to his nose. your panties. his mouth waters— he damn near saw his brain from how far his eyes roll back.
minho folds it back into its place. his knuckles brush over the other pairs as he contemplates which one you wouldn’t realise is gone, if he pocketed it for himself.
there’s something that catches his eye. but before minho can think to reach for it—
“knew it.”
his bones go rigid.
your voice comes behind him, from the doorway. he glances back— you’re stood there with your arms crossed, watching him. hunting the hunter.
minho straightens up. “i was just—”
“there’s no need to lie, min.” you cut in, voice dripping with something intoxicating. “do i look upset?”
his throat goes dry. you take a step closer. then another.
you pout, taking note of the bruise on his face. “aw, chris leave you with that?”
minho reminded himself to breathe, dazed. “your brother, he’s—”
“—such a buzzkill, right? thinks i need saving or something.” you’re there, way too close, fingertips dancing up minho’s chest. “he doesn’t get it. but it’s okay. i’m here now.”
he stammers, too many thoughts racing to land. your hand makes it way to his chin, tilting his head to meet your gaze.
“isn’t this what you wanted?”
“yes.” he replies breathlessly. he’d scream at the top of his lungs how badly he’s wanted you— if only he wasn’t so shell-shocked.
his fantasies playing out in real time. and when you pinch at his bruised cheek, he keels over as the pain throbs through his face— but he doesn’t wake up. you’re the real thing.
his back hits your mattress before he even registers that you’d shoved him. one blink later, and you’re mounting his lap, caging him in with legs on either side of his body.
your fist curls around his collar, tugging his face towards you like it’s your right.
“you’re mine, yeah?” your lips are mere inches from his, breathe heavy on his mouth. he just gawks up at you. “don’t hurt me, and i won’t have to hurt you.”
minho didn’t know what to say. you’re talking like he’d been born to you. he didn’t know you had this in you.
when your lips come crashing onto his, a groan escapes minho’s throat. your canine nipped at the skin of his lip but his head’s too fuzzy to give a fuck. you suck the blood onto your tongue, and his dick literally twitches.
you pull strained noises from minho between the kisses, parting his lips with a demanding force. he’s helpless to whatever you’ll do to him. he forgets himself, hands fumbling at your waist when he remembers he can actually touch you.
you rock your hips mindlessly as your tongue tastes every inch of his mouth— and minho’s seeing fucking stars. he still can’t believe it. his mind’s lagging behind, he doesn’t realise just how close he is until you moan down his throat.
he tries to pry you off of him, he doesn’t want to cum like this, embarrassingly quick. but you’re not budging. your hand comes to his neck to press him further into the mattress as you grind yourself down onto him harder— he could feel your heat as he dug up into you through the layers of fabric, and that’s when his resolve snapped.
minho’s hips stammer, hands roaming all over your body as he tries to anchor himself. that’s when your lips come off of his: just to hear the string of moans falling from his mouth as he cums. you don’t stop rocking against him, even when he’s freshly sensitive, and it takes him whining your name in a broken plea for you to let up.
you collapse next to him, face split in a smile. he’s still catching his breath like he was just in a triathlon. the warm sensation in his pants almost has him recoiling, but your hand comes to his chest, thumb rubbing soothing circles.
“i get it.” you’d told him. he didn’t know what it meant. not in the moment, at least.
it wasn’t until later, when the lust fuelled haze wore off and the stark clarity had settled in, that he remembered the drawer. that glint of metal.
silently, he pushed himself up off the bed, careful not to rouse you from your sleep. he stayed idle for a beat, until you snore softly, and he decided it was safe.
he knelt to the drawer slowly, and pulled out his glasses.
right where you had left them.
people are always so quick to assume that the stalker is the man. girls are just the prey, never the one in the shadows. that they don’t follow, or watch, or want things they shouldn’t.
but you saw him, lee minho, before he ever saw you.
he wasn’t as subtle as he might’ve liked to think. it was an effort to hold in your laughter at times. he was so obvious: how he’d linger, how his gaze was practically glued to you. he orbited you like you’re the air he breathes. and you let him. because you were already doing the same.
most would think, the moment you realise someone’s watching you would be terrifying. but you couldn’t of been more thrilled. because finally, finally— someone got it. someone loved the way you did: consumed by the other person. completely and utterly devoted.
minho wasn’t the hunter, not quite. he was just the one stupid enough to act first.
chris always tried to protect you. that was his role. and it’s true— someone got hurt in high school as a result. but it wasn’t him who went too far.
he merely cleaned it up like a good brother should. took the fall for it. hid the truth of what you’re willing to do for love.
but minho, he gets that you never wanted someone to save you. you just wanted to be seen. all of you, down to the marrow. and he did.
you’re perfect together. even if he doesn’t see that now, he will with time.
because you’ve got no intentions of letting him go.
hello ! this list contains some of my favourite lee know (stray kids) fanfictions. love love to all the wonderful authors who have created these masterpieces, i'm a fan (seriously). all of them are nsfw so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
⤷ truth or dare (3 parts) by @bugeater101
⤷ happy ending (2 parts) by @prod-jeekies
⤷ bimbo!reader chronicles (ft. han) (5 parts) by @prod-jeekies
⤷ feel special by @ysljoon
⤷ hips by @fenya-scribbles
⤷ loud by @fenya-scribbles
⤷ quiet by @fenya-scribbles
⤷ from the coast, with love by @starlostjisung
⤷ bite me if you dare by @starlostjisung
⤷ stolen warmth by @ghostlyscripture
⤷ aisle be damned (5 parts) by @emmiesoverthemoon
⤷ what you deserve (3 parts) by @2chopsticks2eyes
⤷ free, when you're here with me (ft. han) by @skzms
⤷ bf lee know by @deadpanjisung
⤷ tunnel vision by @milkteabinniechan
⤷ crush by @makeitworse
⤷ and they were roommates (ft. han) by @baby-yongbok
⤷ say that again by @sereia4skz
⤷ welcome home by @sereia4skz
⤷ lost in translation by @moonjxsung
⤷ knit by @seospicybin
⤷ makes me dizzy by @hyunsvngs
⤷ ruin me (2 parts) by @skzms
⤷ his habits by @sourtae
author's note: please show some love to all these lovely authors.
ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ 𐂴 CONTENTS. smut virgin!minho x fem reader blowjob whining hair tugging praising dubcon (kinda?) short :(
nina whisper: sub!minho is the best trope, you guys don't understand 😫😫😫
don’t like, don’t read.
Minho whined, staring down at you, not knowing if he could touch you as he felt your tongue teasing his leaking tip. "mmm-oh you f-feel good" His eyes widening as he felt your mouth slowly engulf his cock, pushing down as you started bobbing your head up and down, feeling your throat squeeze around him. His hand trembling as he didn't know what do do with them as he felt your hand pull his own to your hair, immediately gripping on for support.
"aah I-I-I've n-never this before-..." He trailed with embarrassment as he leaned his head back with a loud moan, his glasses falling down his nose slightly as he twitch squishing his thighs around your face (😫). "C-can...I...move?..." He mumbled quietly to shy to explain himself, seeing you not disagreeing with him, he slowly thrust his hips into your mouth, holding you in place and feeling every bit of his cock being teased with your swirling tongue.
Minho, he wanted to he be a good boy to your like in those videos, he didn't wanna cum too fast but he couldn't help himself as his thrust become clumsy and he start moaning and whimpering your name and suddenly, he tugged your hair down, gripping it for life as force his whole cock down your throat as he came inside you, amazed by how you swallow everything.
"w-wow..mmh...that was...amazing..." He paused slightly to catch his breathe as his cock started softening. "can we...we...do this again?..." He mumbled quietly and how could you say no to him?
❤︎ 𝒿eongin can’t seem to keep his hands to himself . . .
♪ ﹒﹒ bf!𝒿eongin ﹠ 𝒻!reader . ݁˖ ♡
ⓘ smut, alcohol mentions, cursing, petnames, unprotected sex (nono), creampie, mating press, possessive!jeongin, han cameo ﹒﹒ 🎼 𝓌ritten . 1𝓀
𝓉o 𝓎ou ◞ the long awaited smut draft is finally here ! kinda short & i still don’t like it but i hope you do hehe … ♡ + ⟲ & enjoy!
contrary to popular belief, the so called “shy maknae” is anything but “shy” when it comes to you.
jeongin is well aware of how his members, and most of the world see him. a soft, sweet, cute and reserved persona that he can’t seem to ever escape. it’s a true rarity for him to willingly hold his hands out to another person, preferring to keep to himself. he’s grown accustomed to the touches and flicks, pats on the back and hair ruffles from the boys he knows and loves, but even then, he could still call himself a bit iffy with that sort of contact, pushing it away when he feels like it.
but with you? handsy.
jeongin is actually a greedy, possessive, handsy man. everything he supposedly is “against” goes straight out of the window, a seal he cracked open himself when he met you. yes, he loves to cuddle, to kiss and hold hands witj you in moments, which are in private for the most part. but he also has made you keenly aware that his hands love to claim what’s his.
he starts it off cutely innocent. small brushes against your spine, a smoothly undetectable grip behind your neck that lasts only a second. get him somewhere he feels comfortable, and he’s the definition of hands on.
tonight, it’s only a smallish party. him and the other seven, you, and some close friends in the industry to celebrate yet another win in their largely ever growing career. some music bumps in the background, and your dress sparkles underneath the low lights whenever your shimmery perfume catches them. a half empty martini glass sits to your left, extra olives completely gone, and to your right sits a very happy han jisung with something disgustingly fruity in his cup. where’d he get the good stuff?
and behind you is jeongin. your dressed up, sober boyfriend who’s silently laughing at how you considered a martini to be a snack instead of a drink.
“baby, you could’ve just ordered something. they have food.” he says with a soft touch to your side, grazing a finger over the folds of fabric by your hip.
“a martini is food, maknae... olives. duh.”
han jumps in the conversation with a jumbled “olives are nasty”, but you’re too busy focusing on jeongin to spit a witty response back.
because jeongin won’t stop touching you.
he’s muttering soft conversation, with some words exchanged between him and his supposed hyung, who acts younger when drunkened, and his actual older members who gather in the vicinity at empty stools and seats. most wouldn’t even take a second glance at jeongins mannerisms. but you do.
he gets experimental with his fingertips, one just barely slipping under the fabric he was just touching, retreating shortly afterward only to get bolder with every second. his hand glides up, then back, then down until he lands a soft pat to the plush of your bottom.
“no, hyung. i’m driving her home, so i’m not drinking.” he says. you hear someone, maybe minho, say something about having good responsibility. little does he know jeongin is nowhere near responsible with the lewd mind he carries, and with the way he’s practically groping you in front of his friends.
now he’s rubbing his hands up and down your arms, soft and slow with the sweetest kiss to the side of your neck, but you can feel the devilish intent hidden in his lips.
you’re getting hot and bothered now. you’re past the point of it being just the alcohol, that reasoning considered hysterical by this time. your face is turning flushed and rosy, and you use your manicured hands to cover it as much as possible. jisung would never let you hear the end of it.
“i like this dress on you..” is a honeyed compliment that slips from jeongins mouth next, his touch softening with that same hold he’s had on your hips.
“i think the bartender does too.”
and as quick to come to a revelation as you usually are, you finally see why jeongin has had his grasp on you the entire night. the way the rest of this party will go is already mapped out right in front of you.
jeongin can be handsy for some reasons. because he wants to have you close, because he missed you, because he’s feeling soft and needy. or, because he’s jealous.
“baby, let’s go home, okay?” jeongin feigns an innocent voice in case the rest of the boys hear him, but he leans down for only you to listen next.
“im the one who knows how that dress looks when it’s off, anyway.”
⸝⸝⸝
which now leads you to here, in your shared apartment, with jeongin pressed so closely against you that you can feel his rapid heartbeat against your own.
he’s all over you, all inside you, with every bit of skin you have being touched, caressed, and exposed eagerly as he pulls your dress off like he promised back at the party.
“why’re you so soft— huh? tell me baby..” he asks, feeling you up with graspy palms that don’t ever stop.
you can’t answer because he’s fucking the voice right out of you.
slow, deep thrusts that have unspoken words of possession and power behind them, your hands bound by your head in one of his.
“i—i don’t kno—jeong…” is all you can muster. you can feel him deep, feel his ragged breathing against your ear, and feel his hands touching you in places that really are only meant to be private.
“speak up, pretty. i can’t hear you o-over that whining.” but you can definitely hear him. he’s losing himself, clear as day, and you’re not far behind.
jeongin moves so his palms cup the back of your knees, pushing slightly down into a press that has you seeing stars on your dark ceiling. “fuck ! jeong—in!”
“you’re mine, aren’t you baby? cum on me so i know it.”
and fuck, you could forget about his hands when he has a mouth like that and a stroke so deep.
you finish soon after with a taught coil that snaps all over him, grasping at the sheets in an attempt to bring yourself back to earth. he follows behind, sounding with a low grumbly whine and hot stickiness that fills you up and drips out of the sides.
“so pretty… feel so good… i love you… so good…” he’s mumbling to himself, coming down to lay on you without his full weight that could crush, breathing hot onto your cheek where he plants a kiss not long afterward.
yes, he knows where to touch to get you going, what to grab when he has you. but he also knows where to hold you when you’re finished.
cleaning you up softly, taking a bubble filled bath, and keeping you close with a little thank you when you’re back in bed. all the while, his hands haven’t left you once, lingering on your skin with his fingertips that draw patterns to soften his previous actions.
“you must really love me. you’re like… a tic.” you joke quietly, smiling to yourself in the dark thinking he can’t see you.
jeongin laughs a breath through his nose that tickles the back of your neck.
cw: dry humping, cursing, reader’s 20, asides from that pretty vanilla! not proofread
this was a request, however this isn’t the fully what the anon asked for. i’ve simply been insanely busy and do not have the time to write the entire ask. i WILL do another part when i can ml, i simply wanted to get this to you since it’s been so long since you requested. i’m soso sorry :( ur message was also the sweetest, tysm for the support lovie
You had never been one to trust easily- ‘specifically men. Perhaps it was prejudice from what you’ve seen throughout your childhood and your own, terrible taste in men.
You and Jeongin were friends for awhile, meeting after a mutual friend’s birthday party.
It was supposed to just be a simple friendship- though it gradually turned from occasional texts and chats during friend-group get togethers, to nonstop joking, inside jokes, and constantly hanging out.
Jeongin really wasn’t your type, you thought. Yet over the year and a half that the two of you’s friendships developed, you slowly developed feelings.
He was polite, funny, and kind. You could be absolutely chaotic and joke about stuff without worrying you’ll get hit with a romantic confession. Not worrying about getting a text at one in the morning, “pics?”
You managed to convince yourself that he was too good for you- and part of you was worried that it was all a charade. You convinced yourself that it was either a charade for his ulterior motives, or he saw you as a ‘little sister’- after all, he was five years older than you.
You found comfort in the latter, and a sense of disappointment that you didn’t like to acknowledge, so you didn’t.
The two of you were currently having a movie night. Though neither of you were paying attention to the movie. Instead watching stupid cat tiktoks on Jeongins phone.
He sat next to you, his body heavy and firm against yours. Wearing a pair of sweats and sweater. Hood pulls up over his head and a string in his mouth. His head resting on your shoulder while yours rested on top of his head. The two of you occasionally laughing at whatever stupid thing one of the cats did.
And somehow- from being snuggled together, movie in background and watching cat videos, you two ended up making out, Jeongin’s hands running up and down your sides, the two of you grinding against eachother subconsciously, still fully clothed.
A soft sound escaped your lips as Jeongin shifted his hips just enough to press against your clothed, throbbing clit.
Your kisses were shy- inexperienced. Jeongin could tell. You were simply following his lead, trying his best.
How badly he wanted to do more- show you more. You told him about that time with your ex. How you just hoped for it to be over because of how shitty it was. He wanted to actually pleasure you. Show you that it’s not sex that doesn’t feel good, but just that the guy was shitty and clearly had a bad dick.
He also noticed how much you were grinding against him. It was cute how you didn’t even realize.
However, he didn’t want to rush you. Didn’t want you to think that was all he was interested in.
But boy were you making it hard to go at your pace.
Feeling the heat from between the barrier of denim against his cock was like a tease of something he’s thought about many times. The way you were moving your hips didn’t help.
He couldn’t help the way his hips instinctively pushed back into yours. desperate for more friction and more of your muffled moans against his lips.
And that feeling didn’t stop when he started feeling your thighs shake, it only amplified. Hands tightening around your hips and pushing you down onto him, the harder friction making both of you moan.
“J-Jeon-“ You tried to speak but got cut off by Jeongin’s lips on yours along with his hips grinding against yours.
Quickly you felt yourself cum. Moans spilling from your lips as you pulled away. Jeongin came not far after you, hips stuttering against you.
The two of you caught your breath. bodies firm against each other as yous came down from your orgasm.
You pulled away slightly, glancing shyly at Jeongin. As if you were testing to see what he was gonna do next.
He pulled away, eye’s glancing down at you. then chuckled.
he can’t bear it anymore—not when you’re so tight, so warm, so perfect to breed. he has to get you pregnant, and he’s not gonna stop until until he’s certain it’s taken.
words: 3.1k
PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS! desperate whiny wooyoung, a LOT of whining. breeding, unprotected sex, cum stuffing i suppose, mating press, wet and messy, pregnancy kink sort of. he’s so desperate to get you pregnant it’s all he can think about. lots of cum and talk of cum. one slap of your breast.
title from switch it up - jayb & sokodomo. dedicated to @lovelyun
It’s not unusual for sex with Wooyoung to end up like this.
Especially when he’s been away on tour, or busy with comeback preparations—whenever he’s not able to fuck you as much of often as he likes, this is the result.
Whiny. Desperate. Clinging to you; fingers digging into your skin, blunts of his nails pressed in deep enough to sting. Like he’s holding on for dear life; like he’s afraid that if he lets go, if he loosens his grip even a little bit, you’ll slip away for good.
He was already half hard when you walked into the living room in a thin t-shirt, the fabric a little tighter around your tits and hips, nipples visible through the white cotton. He’d started getting hard on the car ride home just from the thought of you; the thought of how pent up he knows you are after days without him, how desperate you must be, how easy it’ll be to make you come undone and everything he’s going to do to get you there. He’d spent the whole journey with his bag on his lap, trying to hide the imprint of his hardening cock against his sweats in case the taxi driver decided to glance back at him in the rearview mirror.
Fuck, he should’ve worn underwear, but he knows you prefer it when he doesn’t, especially in those sweats. He hadn’t really thought about how difficult that would make it to get home; hadn’t remember how fucking easy it is for him to get hard over you.
When he entered the apartment, when you walked through to greet him, his dick was already straining the fabric of his sweats. The sight of you, the way your shirt clings to your body, your bare legs—it took him the rest of the way. He felt the beads of precum leaking from the tip as you padded across the floor over to him.
Fuck, he needs you bad. He wasn’t even half this bad when he met you; he was far from low libido, but you just bring something out in him that’s entirely new.
“Hey,” you smiled. “Missed you.”
He didn’t even reply. Couldn’t reply; the moment your hand was wrapped around his wrist, pulling him towards you, the moment he got a whiff of your scent, the body wash you like to lather over yourself and a hint of your natural sweetness—he couldn’t do anything but pounce.
He barely got you to the bedroom. He didn’t even get your shirt all the way off; just yanked it up so your tits were exposed, so he could watch the way your nipples hardened in the cold air, how the skin reddened when he smacked lightly at your breasts just to watch them move, so he could feel the warmth when he grasped them in his hands. He managed to pull it over your head, but neither of you thought to pull out your arms, so now it’s sitting there, leaving you entirely exposed while he fucks you open.
By the time he’d pulled his dick out the front of his sweats had darkened, spots of wetness seeping through the light grey fabric, precum already smeared over his tip, He didn’t take them down, just pulled them far enough to get out his cock and got to work.
Your pussy was already wet, of course, just as he knew it would be—still he was kind enough to spit down onto your hole, a little more onto his fingers, smearing his saliva across your clit just to get you a little more needy for it before he finally sunk himself into you.
Wooyoung is thick, a little longer than average, and even with your pussy leaking and weeping for him like it often does, it took a bit of effort to get himself all the way inside. When he finally got himself in, when your hole was finally wrapped around his shaft, about halfway down, he yelled. The pressure, the pleasure was dizzying; the way you clung to him like you couldn’t handle him, like your poor little pussy didn’t know what to do with something his size—it was too much. Fuck, he had to close his eyes, squeeze them shut, dig his fingers into the skin of your hips to ground himself to avoid cumming before he’d even bottomed out.
He couldn’t handle it. The way you were responding—pussy leaking and clenching around him at the same time, so incredibly tight despite how needy and sloppy is already was for him; your cry, strangled and dizzied, when he sunk into you, your small, desperate whimpers as he continues to push inside—it almost pushed him over the edge. If he hadn’t closed his eyes in time to avoid the way your eyes widened, lips parting and shiny with drool as you tried to adjust to him, he knows he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself.
Now, finally, he’s bottomed out, dick all the way inside, pressing against your g-spot, slamming into it with every thrust. His brows are furrowed, pupils blown, sweat sticking to his forehead and dripping from his chin. His grip is iron, fingers digging into your hips, holding onto the skin like a lifeline; you know there’ll be bruises later, littering the expanses of your hips and waist, but you don’t care. It wouldn’t be the first time for either of you. You wear the marks he leaves, and he wears yours, like a badge of honour.
He’s going hard, rough, thrusts one after the other, so fast even he can barely keep up. He’s almost crying, you can tell; see the tears brimming in his eyes, hear his whines and gasps like he’s trying to keep himself together. “Fuck,” he hisses. “Fuck, you— baby. Oh my god.”
“Wooyoung,” you cry. “You— feels so good. So deep, Woo, how are you so fucking deep?”
“I know,” he says. His hand moves from your hip to your tummy, pressing down, running across the expanse of your skin. “I’m in here,” he grunts. The pressure of his hands increases, pressing down right where his dick is stuffed all the way inside you and pressing against your spot. “Do you feel it?”
You nod, whimpering, and he groans, a sharp, strangled sound from the back of his throat. “Tell me you feel it,” he says, and fuck his voice sounds so raw, so affected, the way you sound when you’re all fucked out and begging him for release. “Please, baby, tell me.”
“I feel it,” you say. “Woo, I feel it. You’re so deep inside me, you’re so big, it hurts.”
He pushes down a little harder, making you sob, then his hand moves back to its place on your hip, holding onto the skin, fingers digging into it again.
“More,” you breathe, voice barely a whisper, need and desperation evident in the tone. “Woo, please. Need more.”
“Fuck.”
He can’t ever say no to you—you both know that. He could be at the very edge of what he can do, at the very edge of collapse, and if you looked up at him with those wide, loving, fucked our eyes and begged him for more, he’d give it to you.
And like this—with your pussy crying for him, tensing and spasming around his shaft, sucking him in, your body begging for him without words—he’s pretty much a dead man walking.
He can’t fucking take this. He doesn’t remember you ever being so tight and warm and wet. He knows you have been—you always are—it must just be the days, weeks even that he’s gone without having you like this, the compounded need and relief of finally having your cunt wrapped around his cock.
He’s going to break. He knows it. But he hasn’t given you nearly as much as he intends to yet.
His head dips, the pressure of his hands on your hips increasing, like he’s struggling to hold himself up now. His hair is sticking to his forehead, breathing laboured, whimpers getting louder and hotter and more guttural. His thrusts are speeding up too, getting harder, but the precision and control of them is slipping; the more he fucks you, the tighter he clings to you, the sloppier and messier his movements inside you get.
Your legs wrap around his waist, feet interlocking with each other against the small of his back, locking you in place. You push your hips up, pressing yourself closer to him, pulling him in deeper; your hands reach out to grab his shirt, curling the material around your fists then moving up to hold onto his shoulders, then his neck, then a fistful of his hair in one of your hands while the other grips his forearm. A harder thrust, sharper, makes you squeal, head thrown back, your face wet and flushed and blotchy with tears.
Wooyoung looks up, finally, meeting your eyes, and the sight of your face, so dumb and desperate and high on what he's giving you, makes his dick pulse inside you, legs almost giving out just from the sight of you. His dick is so fucking sensitive now, strangled by your cunt, hardly able to move in and out of you but unable to do anything but go harder and faster and messier. He’s fairly certain you’ve creamed already, probably more than once; he’s felt your cunt spasming around him, heard your cries grow sharper then settle back into softer whines and sobs, and he feels the stickiness leaking out of your hole around his cock. He wants to cum too, so fucking badly, but he can’t—
Fuck. Fuck. The image hits him like a vision, a spiritual experience, something solid against his chest. The way you’re clinging to him. He knows he’s not going to pull out, won’t be able to, he rarely does with you; knows that when he cums, when he finally allows himself to break, it will be with his dick pressed up against your g-spot, the cum filling up the deepest parts of you. He wishes he could cum directly into your womb; he’s said that to you before, and when you’re stuffed full of him and begging him to fill you up, you have on a few occasions cried for him to stuff your womb with cum. To get you pregnant.
He wants to do that now. He wants it so bad he could cry; wants it so bad it’s all he can think about. And with the way you’re squeezing him, milking his cock with your cunt, it seems like you want it too. Your body wants it, at least.
“Baby,” he hisses. “I…”
He leans down, closer to you now, face inches from yours, close enough to see the tiny details of his face and feel his breath against your skin. You grab a handful of his hair, gentle but desperate, and pull him closer to you. Your breaths are short and shallow, words whispered, like a prayer meant only for him. “You what?” You breathe.
He grunts, chewing on his lip, hips bucking just at the thought. “I want to get you pregnant,” he hisses, voice cracking on the final syllable and slipping into something more like a whimper. “Please, baby. Let me…”
You cunt clenches at that, at the image; your hips buck upwards and you pull his head down further, closer, until his lips are on yours. He freezes, just for a moment, then melts into it, tongue pushing past your lips and into your mouth, hands cupping your face with the same pressure and fervour they’d had on your hips. The kiss is wet, rushed, messy; loving and hungry at the same time. He groans into your mouth, his hips bucking, skin slapping against yours, then pulls away. “Tell me I can,” he says. “Tell me I can knock you up. I need to knock you up.”
“Knock me up, Wooyoung,” you say. He rewards you with another, sharper thrust that nearly makes your vision white out. “Please. Put a baby in me. Need a baby in my tummy, Woo, need to be all swollen with it.”
“Shit,” he grits out. His hands are on your shoulders now, pushing them down and pinning you against the bed. His eyes are wild now—crazed. “You need it,” he says. “Fuck, baby, you need it, right?”
“Need it,” you repeat. “I need your baby, Woo, it’d be so cute, right? We’d have such a cute baby.”
“Fuck, don’t talk like that.” Wooyoung feels lightheaded, his entire body buzzing with need, toes curling into the sheets. He slows down just enough to think a little clearer, thrusts lazier while he strings his words together. “Baby, put your legs up. I wanna— I wanna press it all the way in. Need to press my cum all the way inside, right in your little womb, okay?”
He stops fucking you for a moment, still stuffed inside, then adjusts. He sits himself up, straightening up from where he was leaning over your; his hands grip your legs, still wrapped around his waist, keeping them there as he moves. Then he pushes your legs forwards, gently, so your knees are pushed towards your face, legs spread, calves pressed against your thighs and your thighs pushed back until—
“Yeah,” he grunts. “That’s perfect.”
You know this position; remember how it feels, how it allows him to get so much deeper and stay there, how his cum stays stuffed inside you after he pulls out, your ass raised a little off the bed.
He starts to move again, but he doesn’t ease you into it; can’t, at this point, when you’re spread out so invitingly, your pussy pulsing around him at the realisation of the position he’s put you in, your entire body so vulgarly displayed beneath him, at his mercy, a present only he gets to unwrap. Soon enough, he’s slipped again, the thrusts sloppier, messier, the control he’d managed to cling to for all of a second, just long enough to adjust you the way he wanted you, now evaporated. His hands find your waist now, holding you tight whilst he slams himself into your spot over and over like he’s chasing something.
His moans are soft, breathy, whiny, getting louder as he gets closer and closer to the edge. He can’t stop thinking about it, picturing it; you, knocked up, carrying his child, looking so perfect and pretty and used. His cum in your cunt—fuck, if he could keep his cum inside you every fucking day he would. He’d fuck you every morning before he goes out, unload inside you, slide your pretty panties over your pussy to catch any seed that tries to escape. If it starts to leak he’d make you push it back inside, or gather it on his finger and make you lick it off. Then he’d fuck you again, before bed, hard and rough, until you fall asleep with bruised hips and smarting skin and a belly full of cum.
He’s going to get you pregnant—he doesn’t fucking care anymore. As he pushes towards his orgasm he knows for a fact, no doubt, that he’s going to do it; that he has to do it, or he’s going to shatter. It’s like a compulsion now, a need as much as eating or sleeping or drinking. He needs to get you pregnant and see you pregnant and know your belly is round and swelling because of him.
He doesn’t realise how loud he’s being; doesn’t realise the loud, whiny moans filling the air and drowning out the sound of his skin slapping against yours is him. Fuck. Is he always this fucked out when he’s trying to cum? Is he always this… pathetic?
He doesn’t care. If pathetic is what he is when he fucks you full, when he fills you up, when he feels your perfect cunt squeezing his dick like this, then fuck it, he’s pathetic. He’ll wear that badge with pride if it’s for you.
His orgasm comes quickly when he stops resisting; when he finally allows it to overtake it. He feels it in his entire body, in his fingers, his toes, every inch of him. It starts and doesn’t seem to stop; you feel your tummy filling up, warmth spreading through you, Wooyoung’s hands heavier and grip tighter, his strangled gasps and choked sobs as he keeps fucking you through it, like he’s trying to milk every last drop of himself out and into you. He’s saying something, somewhere between grunting and wailing; words you can’t quite decipher but understand entirely.
You’re going to get pregnant, tonight. He’s not stopping until you do. He’s gonna fill you up over and over and you can’t take anymore; until you’re so full of his cum that he can’t even fit his cock in there.
His hips rock back and forth, pushing the cum in deeper as it comes out.
And then he stills. His grip loosens just a little bit. He slumps slightly, catching himself in time, breathing heavy and laboured. His dick twitches inside you, still hard, but no longer moving.
“Stay still,” he says. His voice is raw, hollow, as though he’d been screaming and screaming and screaming until he lost it. “Keep your legs there. Helps— it helps it to take.”
“Take?” You repeat. You feel dazed.
Wooyoung nods. “My cum. If you keep your legs there it’ll help you get pregnant. Hold them there. Please.”
Fuck, he really… he really wants you pregnant. Like, actually pregnant. You pull him closer to you, pressing your lips together. This time the kiss is gentle, soft, none of the desperation of before but all of the feeling.
Wooyoung is massaging your legs, rubbing the backs of your thighs with enough pressure to feel it in the muscles; trying to keep the blood flow going, to stop you from losing the feeling in your legs with the strenuous position he’s holding you in. “Doing so well,” he murmurs into your mouth. “Always so good, so pretty, gonna be such a good mom. Wanna give you a daughter.”
“Please,” you breathe. “Want it.”
“Good.” He sits back up, pushing the hair out of his face, staring down at you with a small smile.
You know that smile. That’s a smile that says you’re not done—not even close.
“You’re probably pregnant now,” he says. “But we have to be sure. And we’re not stopping until we’re sure.”
You don’t reply. Just watch as his smile widens, as his hands move back to your hips where they’d been before.
“I’m gonna fuck you again,” he says. “I’m gonna breed you over and over, until the cum is spilling out of you. Until you have my baby. Until you’re carrying my seed inside you all day, every day, for nine months. Okay?”
You don’t answer. You don’t need to; he knows you well enough to read your reaction.
And even if he didn’t—your pussy speaks for itself. The way it clenches around him says everything you’re too fucked out to voice.
“Tell me again. Tell me you want another man’s hands on you after what we did.”
Three months ago, you and your best friend called it a mistake and buried it under silence. Tonight, one stranger gets too close and Mingi finally says the part you’ve both been choking on. Now the only question is whether you can survive the version of Mingi that’s done waiting.
Genre: smut with plot, angst-ish(?)
Trigger Warnings: (spoilers ahead) alcohol use, arguments, anger, manipulation, guilt-tripping, explicit language, jealousy and possessiveness, physical violence, sexual explicit content (mdni) , rough/nasty sex, hard/mean dom! mingi, degradation, humiliation, name-calling (slut), breath play, hand on throat (not fully choking), biting, marking, hair pulling, semi-public sex/risk of being caught (car, taxi, elevator), unsafe sex, manhandling, big dick mingi, p in v, oral sex (m! receiving), throat fucking, a lot of cum (everywhere), cream pie, cum eating, multiple orgasms, dacryphilia, face slapping, spanking, breasts play, breeding kink-ish, masturbation, squirting
WC: 19.6k
Mon’s Note: for my darling @minkieater!! thank you for trusting me with this request and for pushing me to write mingi in a way i don’t usually do. i must say it was a challenge but nonetheless i enjoyed it a lot! hopefully it turned out the way you imagined, sweetheart 🫶🏻 have fun with it!!
The bass rattled through your molars, a rhythmic thud that drowned out the pulse in your own neck. The air in the middle of the floor was a soup of expensive cologne, salt-slicked skin, and the heavy scent of smoke. Behind you, the guy you’d been grinding against for the last three songs shifted his weight, his palms damp where they gripped the curve of your waist. He was a good dancer but the friction was starting to feel less like a release and more like a chore. You peeled his hands away with a practiced, apologetic tilt of your head, the neon blue light catching the sweat on your collarbone. He said something, but the words were swallowed by a remix of a track you didn’t recognise. You just pointed toward the booths, offering a non-committal wave before weaving through the thicket of bodies.
Mingi was exactly where you’d left him, though the rest of the group had long since scattered into the chaos. He was leaning against the high mahogany table. The new blonde of his hair was tucked haphazardly behind his ears, the strands glowing every time the strobe swept past. He wasn’t looking at the crowd. He wasn’t looking at his phone.
He was looking at you.
His chocolate eyes were dark, the pupils blown wide enough to swallow the iris, tracking your progress across the floor with a heavy, unblinking focus. He didn’t look like he was having fun. He looked like he was vibrating at a frequency that might shatter the glass in his hand.
“You look like you’re at a funeral,” you hiked your voice to reach him, sliding into the narrow gap between his body and the table. The heat radiating off him was different from the dance floor—dryer, more concentrated. Mingi didn’t move back to give you space. He stayed still, his height forcing you to crane your neck, his shadow swallowing you whole.
“Do I?” His voice was a low rumble that you felt in your chest more than you heard in your ears. He didn’t smile. He just watched the way your chest rose and fell with your heavy breathing.
“Yeah. Serious. Grumpy.” You reached out, your fingers brushing against the cold, condensation-slicked glass of the beer bottle he was white-knuckling. “You’re bringing the vibe down, Min. You need to get laid or get drunk. Preferably both.” You didn’t wait for an invitation. You wrapped your hand over his—your skin stinging at the contact of his frozen knuckles—and tilted the beer bottle toward your mouth. You took a long, stinging swallow, the bitter amber liquid cutting through the coat of sugar on your tongue from the cocktails earlier. When you pulled away, a stray drop of foam lingered on your lower lip. You didn’t miss the way Mingi’s gaze dropped to it, his jaw muscle jumping as he ground his teeth together.
“That’s mine,” he muttered.
“Everything of yours is mine,” you countered, leaning your hip into his thigh to steady yourself as a group of drunks stumbled past. “Since when do we care about germs? We’ve shared everything.”
Mingi let out a sharp, jagged breath through his nose. He took the bottle back, but he didn’t drink. He just held it, his thumb stroking the neck of the glass in a rhythmic motion. “The guy,” Mingi said, his voice dropping an octave, rasping against the music. “He had his hands all over you.”
“That’s usually how dancing works,” you teased, reaching up to flick a stray blonde hair away from his forehead. Your fingers lingered for a second too long against his skin—he was burning up, a stark contrast to the ice-cold beer. “He was fine. Boring, but fine.”
Mingi leaned down, his face inches from yours. The smell of him suddenly outweighed the scent of the club. His eyes searched yours, intense and frantic. “You’re sweat-soaked,” he noted, his free hand came up, not to touch you, but to hover just an inch from your waist, the heat of his palm seeping through your clothes. “You should sit down. Get some air.”
“I don’t want air,” you said, feeling a strange, tight coil of tension pull in your gut. You reached out, grabbing the material of his shirt to pull him a fraction closer. “I want you to stop acting like a bodyguard and start acting like my best friend. Drink. Dance. Find a girl. I’ll even vet her for you.”
Mingi’s hand finally closed the distance, his fingers splaying wide over the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. The movement was sudden, knocking the breath right out of your lungs. “I don’t want a girl,” he rasped, his breath hot against your ear as he lowered his head.
You leaned back just enough to catch the dark, honeyed shift of his eyes, the sticky heat of the club rushing into the inch of space between your chests. You let out a huff of a laugh, your hand still at his shoulder for balance while the floor tilted slightly under your shoes. “You better change your mind then,” you teased, your voice bright and irreverent over the thumping music. You didn’t lower your volume; the crudeness felt natural between you, a byproduct of years of shared secrets and unfiltered bullshit. “Your dick needs a good sucking, Min. You’re wound so tight I can practically hear your gears grinding from here. Go find a victim.” You flashed him a grin—the one that usually got him to stop brooding—and reached for the beer again, taking another long, unhurried swallow. The cold liquid slid down your throat, a sharp contrast to the humid air pressing against your skin.
Mingi didn’t laugh. He didn’t even crack a self-deprecating smirk. Instead, his fingers, still splayed across the small of your back, twitched. The fabric of your dress bunched under his palm as his grip tightened, drawing you a fraction closer until your thighs brushed his. He was tracking the way your throat moved as you swallowed, his jaw locked in a hard, protruding line. “Is that what you think?”
“I know it is,” you patted his chest, the muscle beneath his shirt felt like carved stone. “I’ve seen you when you’re stressed. You’re a menace. Go. I’ll be fine. I might even go find that guy again—he had a nice rhythm.”
Mingi’s jaw tightened so hard you heard the faint click of his teeth over the sub-bass. For a heartbeat, he didn’t move. He just stared at you, then, without a word, he tilted his head back. You watched the column of his throat work as he downed the rest of the beer in several heavy, aggressive gulps. The glass rattled against his teeth. When he pulled the bottle away, a single trail of amber liquid escaped the corner of his mouth, glistening in the strobe light before he wiped it away with the back of a shaking hand.
“Okay,” he said. The word was clipped, stripped of any warmth. It wasn’t the voice of the best friend; it was the voice of a man who had reached a very specific, very dangerous limit. He set the empty bottle on the table with a sharp clack and turned away. He didn’t look back. Not once. He didn’t check to see if you were following, didn’t offer a “see you later,” didn’t even spare you a final glance. He simply melted into the shifting sea of limbs on the dance floor, his blonde head bobbing through the neon haze like a signal fire being swallowed by the dark.
You blinked, the sudden absence of his heat leaving a strange, chilly vacuum against your front. “Well,” you muttered to yourself, the word lost to a sudden surge in the music’s volume. “Ask and you shall receive, I guess.” You shifted your weight, the floor sticky beneath your boots. You’d gotten what you wanted—Mingi was finally out there, hopefully looking for someone to help him sweat out that foul mood—but the air felt thinner without him hovering over you. You shook the feeling off, rolling your shoulders to loosen the tension that had settled there.
Time to find Mr. Rhythm.
You scanned the crowd, squinting against the blinding flashes of violet and white. The club was a kaleidoscope of blurred faces and grinding hips. You spotted the VIP section, where a group was spraying champagne, the fine mist catching the light like diamonds. You looked toward the bar, then back toward the floor where you’d been earlier. There. About twenty feet away, near the speakers, you caught the back of a familiar head—the guy from before. He was already back at it, his hands on the hips of a girl in a red dress, moving with that same fluid, easy confidence.
You felt a sharp, unexpected prick of annoyance in your chest. That was fast.
You turned your head, searching for Mingi instead. You found him almost instantly. He wasn’t hard to miss. He was standing near the edge of the floor, and he wasn’t alone. A girl with long, dark hair had already gravitated toward him, her hand resting brazenly on his bicep as she shouted something into his ear. Mingi was leaning down, his ear inches from her lips, his expression unreadable. From this distance, he looked like a different person.
You stood there for a moment, glued to the edge of the mahogany table, your fingers tracing the ring of condensation Mingi had left behind.
You couldn’t take your eyes off him. His hair was catching every flicker of the neon lights. The girl with the dark hair was closer now, her fingers hooked into the belt loop of his jeans, pulling herself into the narrow orbit of his space. Mingi didn’t push her away. He didn’t lean in, either. He just stood there, tall and terrifyingly still, his head tilted back as he looked down at her with an expression that was cold, and entirely unrecognisable. It felt like watching a stranger wear your best friend’s skin. The knot in your stomach tightened, a dull ache that had nothing to do with the alcohol you had.
“You look like you’re waiting for a crash.” The voice was slick, cutting through the electronic roar of the track. You turned your head, blinking against a sudden burst of violet light. A man was standing beside you, leaning one elbow on the table. He was older than the guy you’d been dancing with, wearing a crisp black button-down and a heavy silver signet ring on his pinky. He held two glasses—crystal tumblers filled with an amber liquid and a single, oversized cube of ice.
“I’m just watching the show,” you said, your voice raspy from the smoke and the shouting.
“That tall, blonde guy?” The stranger followed your gaze, a small, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He didn’t wait for an answer before sliding one of the tumblers across the wood toward you. “He looks like he’s trying to set the room on fire. You look like you’re wondering if you should call the fire department.”
You looked at the drink. “I don’t take drinks from people I don’t know,” you said, though your hand moved toward the glass of its own accord. Your throat felt like it had been rubbed with sandpaper.
“I’m Seongmin,” he said, his voice a smooth baritone that didn’t need to strain against the music. He took a sip of his own drink, his eyes never leaving yours. “Now you know me. Drink it. It’s better than that bottom-shelf lager the blonde guy was chugging.”
You reached out, your fingers brushing his as you took the glass. The condensation was biting, a shock of cold against your palm. You took a sip—it was a peaty, expensive Scotch that burned all the way down, lighting a small fire in your belly.
“Better?” he asked, stepping a fraction closer. He smelled of peppermint gum and expensive leather.
“Stronger,” you countered.
Seongmin leaned in, “Strong is what you look like you need,” he reached out, his movements fluid and deliberate, and tucked a damp lock of hair behind your ear. His fingertips were warm—dry and steady—lingering against the sensitive skin of your temple. “Relax.”
“I am relaxed,” you lied.
“Your shoulders are up to your ears.” He let his hand slide down, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw before his palm settled heavily on the nape of your neck. It was a grounding weight, firm enough to make you still. “There. Better.”
Across the room, the violet strobe cut through the dark, illuminating Mingi. He wasn’t paying attention to the girl grinding on him anymore. He was looking straight at you. Even from twenty feet away, the intensity of his stare felt like a physical shove.
Seongmin noticed. He didn’t turn around to look, but his eyes narrowed as they tracked yours. A slow, predatory smile pulled at his mouth. “He’s very protective, isn’t he? Your... friend.”
“He’s just moody,” you snapped, turning your back on the dance floor to face Seongmin fully. The movement brought you deep into his space, the scent of leather and peppermint thickening. “He needs to mind his own business.”
“I agree.” Seongmin’s hand shifted from your neck to your waist, pulling you an inch closer. “You’re much too vibrant to be watched over like a child.” He took the glass from your hand, setting it behind him without breaking eye contact. Then, he took your wrist. He didn’t ask. He simply guided your hand up until your palm was flat against his chest, right over the slow, rhythmic thud of his heart. The silk of his black shirt was cool, but the body beneath it was searing. “Dance with me.” It wasn’t a question, your legs were already moving as he backed away, leading you by the wrist toward a darker corner of the floor, away from the main crush but directly into Mingi’s line of sight.
The music shifted—the aggressive EDM fading into a R&B track with a bass line that felt like velvet. Seongmin didn’t waste time with distance. He stepped into you, his thighs slotting between yours, his hands sliding down to rest low on your hips. He moved with a slow, grinding confidence that made the previous guy look like an amateur. He surged forward, forcing you to take a half-step back until your spine hit the padded velvet of a pillar. He followed, pinning you there with the weight of his body. His hands didn’t stay still; they wandered, one sliding up to bunch the fabric at your waist, the other reaching up to cup your face, his thumb pressing firmly into your lower lip.
“You have a very loud mouth,” he said, his voice a dark, amused rumble. “I wonder if it tastes as sharp as it sounds.”
You felt the heat of him everywhere. You reached up, your fingers tangling in the collar of his black shirt, intending to pull him closer. He tilted his head, his lips grazing the corner of yours—a dry, searing contact that sent a jolt of static electricity straight to your toes. You felt the heavy silver of his ring press into the soft skin behind your ear, a cold touch as he began to claim the space you’d so carelessly offered. His tongue flicked out, a ghost of a touch against the seam of your lips, tasting the salt and the lingering amber of the drink he’d given you.
Seongmin’s thumb didn’t just rest on your lip; it hooked into the corner of your mouth, dragging the sensitive skin downward to expose the damp gleam of your teeth. The bass of the R&B track vibrated through the velvet-padded pillar behind you, rattling your ribcage and syncing with the heavy, insistent thud of his heart against your palm.
He shifted his weight, his thigh high and hard between yours, pressing upward with a slow, agonizing deliberation. The friction of his suit trousers against your thinner fabric was a dry heat that made your breath hitch, hitching again when he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing against your knuckles.
“Not so loud now,” he murmured. He leaned in, his forehead dropping to rest against yours. He didn't close the distance to your lips. Instead, he tilted his head, his nose grazing yours, trailing down to the sensitive dip of your cupid’s bow. He inhaled sharply, a ragged sound that vibrated in his chest.
“Your friend is burning a hole in the back of your head,” Seongmin whispered, his breath ghosting over your damp lips, tasting of the same amber liquor. “Do you care? Or are you too busy feeling me?”
His hand at your waist tightened, fingers digging into the soft flesh above your hip bone, pulling you flush against the rigid line of his belt. He began to move—a slow, rhythmic grind that was less about the music and more about the friction. Each roll of his hips was a calculated invasion, forcing you to arch your back against the pillar, your fingers twitching where they were trapped between your chests.
You tried to pull him closer by the collar, the silk bunching in your fist, but he resisted, holding his head just an inch back. He wanted you reaching. He wanted you strained. His tongue flicked out again, tracing the very edge of your upper lip, a teasing, wet velvet that left you shivering.
“Answer me,” he commanded, the ‘s’ lingering into a hiss. He punctuated the demand with a sudden, sharper surge of his hips.
The air in the corner was thick, stripped of oxygen and replaced by the scent of him and the heat of the crowd a few feet away. You could hear the muffled clink of glasses and the roar of the party, but here, pinned under his shadow, the only thing that mattered was the way his thumb was now sliding inside your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, claiming the silence you’d finally fallen into.
He watched your eyes blow wide, his own dark and heavy-lidded, tracking the way your throat worked as you swallowed around him.
Then, a shadow fell over both of you.
“Get your fucking hands off her,” Mingi looked feral, his blonde hair damp and sticking to his temples, his chest heaving as if he’d just run a marathon. “She’s done.”
Seongmin didn’t let go. He didn’t even flinch. He just tilted his head, his thumb still depressing your bottom lip, exposing the pink dampness of the inside. “She looks like she’s just starting, actually. Maybe you should take the hint, kid. You’re the only one here who’s uncomfortable.”
Mingi stepped forward, his hand lashing out to grip Seongmin’s wrist. He didn’t just pull it away; he twisted, a low growl vibrating in his throat that was purely animal. “I said,” Mingi rasped, his face inches from Seongmin’s, his knuckles white where he held the older man’s wrist, “she’s done”. He didn’t look at you—he couldn’t. If he looked at you, he’d see the flush on your neck and the way your mouth was still parted from Seongmin’s touch, and he knew he’d lose the last thread of his sanity.
“I’m not finished,” you managed to get out, your voice sounding thin and breathy even to your own ears. The adrenaline was pulsing in your blood, caught between the slick, practiced heat of Seongmin and the raw, bleeding energy radiating off Mingi.
Mingi’s other hand found your waist, his fingers digging into your hip with a bruising force that made you gasp. He yanked you toward him, stumbling you out from between Seongmin and the pillar, tucking you firmly under the line of his shoulder. He was shaking—hard enough that you could feel the tremors through his clothes.
“Mingi, stop,” you hissed, grabbing his forearm. “You’re making a scene.”
“We’re leaving,” Mingi stated. “Now.”
Seongmin stepped forward again, ignoring Mingi’s posturing. He reached out, his fingers skimming down the line of your arm, just inches away from where Mingi was holding you. “If you want to finish,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours, ignoring the blonde man entirely, “I’ll be at the bar. Don’t let the noise hold you back.” He winked and turned on his heel, disappearing into the neon haze with a grace that made the rest of the club look clumsy.
The silence between you and Mingi was a living thing, more deafening than the music screaming from the rafters. He didn’t let go of you. He started walking, his pace aggressive, dragging you through the thicket of bodies. He didn’t care if he bumped into people; his shoulders were set in a hard, uncompromising line.
Mingi’s hand didn’t just stay on your wrist; he hiked it up, forcing your arm between your chests as he crowded you back against the mahogany bar. The wood bit into the small of your back. Around you, the club blurred into a frantic smear of neon, but Mingi was the only thing in high-definition—the sweat beading on his upper lip, the raw, dilated heat of his pupils.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he snapped, his voice jagged and loud enough to pierce the music. “Folding for some suit who looks like he’s scouting for a second wife? Are you actually that dense?”
You didn’t shrink away. You stepped into the suffocating radius of his space, poking a finger hard into his chest, right over his thundering heart. “I was just having fun until you decided to play the caveman!”
Mingi let out a harsh, mocking bark of a laugh that had no humour in it. He leaned down, his face so close you could see the frantic, rhythmic pulse in his temple. “Oh, I’m the caveman? You’re the one standing here wagging your tail for any guy with a silver ring and a line of bullshit.” He sneered, his eyes raking over you with a disdain that stung worse than any insult. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, you know that? You told me to go get laid, telling me I’m ‘wound too tight’—but look at you.” He reached out, his hand moving too fast to track, his fingers hooking into the hair at the nape of your neck and tugging, just enough to force your chin up. His touch was electric and furious. “Look at you,” he repeated, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous vibration that bypassed your ears and settled deep in your gut. “You’re practically begging for it. You’re flushed, you’re panting, and you’ve got his damn thumb-prints all over your face. Is that what you wanted? To see how long it would take for me to lose it?”
“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” you hissed, your breath hitching as his thumb swiped across your lower lip—hard, as if he were trying to scrub Seongmin’s touch right off your skin. “You don’t get to act like this.”
“I get to act however the fuck I want when I’m watching you throw yourself at a predator,” he growled. He stepped even closer, his thigh forcing its way between yours, pinning you firmly against the table. The friction of his denim against your skin was a shock. “You think he wanted to talk? You think he wanted to hear your ‘witty banter’? He wanted to see how easy it would be to get you into a car. And you were making it real damn easy for him.”
“He was a better dancer than you’ve been all night,” you taunted, the words slipping out before you could filter them, fuelled by the sting of his grip.
Mingi’s expression shifted—the anger didn’t fade, but it sharpened into something dark and concentrated. He didn’t yell this time. He leaned in until his lips were brushing the shell of your ear, his chest heaving against yours. “A better dancer? Is that what this is? You want to be handled? You want someone to stop being ‘nice’ and just take what they want?”
His hand slid from your neck down to your waist, his fingers digging into the soft skin there, pulling you so flush against him. He wasn’t acting like a bodyguard anymore. He was acting like a man who had finally stopped pretending he didn’t want to break you.
“Tell me,” he rasped, his teeth grazing your earlobe. “Do you want me to be like him? Do you want me to stop being your ‘best friend’ and start being the guy who puts his hands wherever he wants? Because I can be that guy, Y/N.” The neon light overhead flickered, casting a sickly violet strobing across Mingi’s face, turning his features into a series of jagged, angry shadows. He looked like he was vibrating, the sheer force of his irritation radiating off his skin in waves of dry heat.
“You don’t get to talk to me like that! You don’t own me!” you snarled, the words tasting like the peat and fire of cocktails and Scotch. Your pulse was a frantic hammer against your ribs. “You’ve been acting like this all night—like you have some kind of divine right to be pissed off just because I’m breathing the same air as other men.”
“I have every right!” Mingi barked, the sound cutting through the synth-heavy beat of the music. He didn’t flinch as a group of clubbers squeezed past, his world narrowed down to the few inches of charged air between your faces. His blonde hair was a ruined mess, damp strands clinging to his forehead, and his eyes were wild—blown wide and dark, searching yours for a shred of the loyalty he thought he possessed.
“Based on what?” you challenged, stepping into him until your chest heaved against the solid, unyielding plane of his. “Based on a decade of friendship? Friends don’t act like this! Friends don’t suffocate each other! They don’t play the jealous watchdog every time someone looks my way!”
Mingi’s laugh was a jagged, ugly sound that started deep in his throat and ended in a sneer. He let go of you, but any hope of space vanished as he slammed both palms onto the mahogany table behind you. The wood groaned under the impact. He leaned in, his large frame creating a cage of heat and muscle, effectively pinning you against the bar.
“Friends?” the word dripped with a bitter, metallic irony that made your stomach flip. “Is that what we’re sticking with? Is that what we were three months ago?” He lowered his head, his nose brushing against yours, his breath hot and smelling of the beer he’d used to try and drown his temper. His eyes dropped to your mouth, tracking the frantic movement of your breathing with a terrifying, singular focus. “Was I just a ‘friend’ when you spent three hours screaming my name in my apartment because you couldn’t get enough of me? When you had your nails buried in my back, begging me not to stop?”
The air left your lungs in a silent rush. The memory hit you—the smell of rain on his skin that night, the way the floorboards had groaned under the weight of the two of you, the desperate, fumbling heat of a “mistake” you’d both agreed to bury under a mountain of “it was just the drinks” and “we’re fine.”
“Oh, you’re going to bring that up now?” you breathed, your hands coming up to his chest to push him back, but your fingers only curled into the damp fabric of his shirt. “We agreed, Mingi! We sat on your living room floor and promised it was a mistake! We shook on it! You don’t get to keep that in your back pocket like a fucking weapon just because you’re having a bad night! So shut the fuck up!”
“I won’t,” he growled, his hand moving from the table to catch your jaw, his thumb pressing firmly into the hinge of your bone. It wasn’t a gentle touch. “You don’t get to go back to ‘friends’ because it’s convenient! You think I can just watch that suit touch you and not want to rip his hands off?” His grip on your jaw tightened just a fraction, his eyes dark with a desperate, starving hunger.
“We said that didn’t count! We agreed. It was a one-time thing. It was a slip-up!”
“You call the way you clutched at my back a ‘slip-up’? The way you begged me not to stop? That’s a hell of a lot of effort for a ‘slip-up,’ baby.”
“Don’t call me that!” You hissed, your vision blurring with a mix of heat and pure, unadulterated rage. “You’re just pissed because you can’t control me. You’re acting like I’m some prize you won three months ago and now you’re mad someone else is looking at the trophy.”
Mingi’s hand slammed against the table next to your hip, the wood groaning under the impact. The sound was a gunshot in the dark. “I don’t want a fucking trophy! It’s not the first time I call you ‘baby’, and you damn well know it wasn’t just a ‘slip-up’ for me.” Mingi roared, his composure finally snapping. “It’s been three months of me watching you pretend it never happened! Three months of me watching you smile at other guys while I can still feel the way your skin felt under my hands.” He was shaking now, his hands white-knuckled against the mahogany. The subtext was gone; the ugly, beautiful truth was laid bare between you, more neon and loud than anything in the club.
“You want me to go get laid?” he barked, his voice a jagged, ugly thing. “Fine. Give me a name, Y/N. Who should I go fuck tonight to make you feel better about being a coward? Should I find some random bitch at the bar who doesn’t mind being seen in public with me? Someone who isn’t busy playing ‘best friend’ while she’s still got the ghost of my hand on her thigh?”
He leaned down, his face inches from yours, his eyes bloodshot and burning with a terrifying, charcoal-dark intensity.
“Because that’s what this is, right? A game?” He let out a harsh, mocking bark of a laugh. “You have the fucking audacity to tell me to go find another girl. Like I can just turn it off. Like I haven’t spent every goddamn night remembering exactly how you taste.”
“Mingi, stop—”
“Stop what? Telling the truth?” He slammed his hand against the table next to your hip, the wood groaning. “You’re pathetic. You’re so scared of what we are that you’d rather see me balls-deep in some stranger than admit you belong to me. Is that it? Does it make you feel ‘safe’ to think of me with someone else?”
He grabbed the edge of the bar, pinning you in, his breath hot and smelling of bitter resentment.
“Maybe I’ll do it. Maybe I’ll go back down there, find the loudest girl in the club, and fuck the memory of you right out of my head. I’ll tell her to scream your name so I don’t forget who I’m trying to replace. Would you like that? Should I give you a play-by-play tomorrow morning while we’re having our ‘friendly’ coffee? Should I tell you if she’s tighter than you were?”
The words were a physical assault, a cruel, calculated attempt to draw blood. He was weaponising the intimacy you’d shared, dragging it through the dirt just to see you flinch.
“You’re a fucking liar,” he hissed, his voice dropping to a low, venomous crawl. “You’re a liar and a coward, and you’re so desperate to keep this ‘friendship’ alive that you’re willing to watch me bleed out right in front of you.”
The slap wasn’t a choice; it was an explosion.
Your palm connected with his cheek with a violent, stinging crack that seemed to suck the air out of the room. The force of it snapped his head to the side, his blonde hair falling over his eyes as he went deathly still.
Silence stretched between you, a taut, vibrating wire.
Slowly, Mingi turned his face back to you. The imprint of your fingers was blooming a dark, angry red against his pale skin. He didn’t look hurt. He looked unhinged. A dark, terrifying smirk pulled at one corner of his mouth—the look of a man who had finally stopped trying to be the “good friend.”
“I was wondering when you’d stop pretending to be ‘fine’.”
The air in the club was suddenly too thick to breathe, a humid soup of Mingi’s possessiveness and the ghost of a memory you’d both tried to bury under layers of “best friends” bullshit.
“Now, tell me again. Tell me to go find someone else. Look me in the eye and tell me you want another man’s hands on you after what we did.”
You shoved at his chest—hard—and this time he let you, his hands sliding off the mahogany with a jagged scrape. You didn’t say a word. You turned and bolted for the exit, the heavy bass chasing you like a heartbeat until the steel doors hissed shut behind you.
The parking lot was lit by the buzzing, sickly orange glow of lamps. The air was bitingly cold, snapping at the sweat on your skin, but it wasn’t enough to cool the furnace in your blood. You were halfway to the taxi zone when the heavy thud of the club doors swinging open again echoed off the asphalt.
“Don’t you fucking walk away from me!” Mingi’s voice cracked the silence of the night.
You spun around, your heels clicking sharply against the oil-stained ground. “Or what, Mingi? What the fuck are you going to do? Pin me against another table? Remind me again how I sounded three months ago?” Your voice rose, trembling with a mix of fury and the terrifying realisation that the walls you’d built were crumbling. “You don’t get to use that! That was—that was a mistake! We said it was a mistake!”
Mingi didn’t stop. He ate up the distance between you with rushed strides. He reached you in seconds, his hand lashing out to catch your upper arm, spinning you around so hard you stumbled into the side of a parked SUV. The metal was freezing against your shoulder blades.
“A mistake?” He threw the word back at you like a slur. He slammed his hand against the car next to your head, the thump of palm on metal loud enough to make you flinch. “Is that what you call it when I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you? Is it a ‘mistake’ that I can’t look at another woman without wishing she had your eyes?”
“Stop,” you breathed, but your hands weren’t pushing him away anymore.
“No,” he rasped, his face dropping until his nose was buried in the crook of your neck, his breath a searing brand against your skin. “You want me to act like I don’t give a shit who touches you? I can’t do it. I’m fucking done pretending.” He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes were no longer chocolate; they were charcoal, burning with a hunger that made Seongmin’s interest look like a polite suggestion. “Tell me it was a mistake again,” he challenged, “Tell me you didn’t feel the way my hands were on you. Tell me you want that suit back here instead of me.” His grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. He didn’t wait for your answer. He leaned in, his mouth hovering a fraction of an inch from yours, the tension so thick it felt like it would shatter the glass in the windows around you. “Say it,” he whispered against your lips. “Lie to me.”
“You have no right to be this angry! You agreed to the silence! You looked me in the eye over coffee the next morning and said, ‘Let’s just be us again’ It’s you who lied!”
“I didn’t lie! I tried! I tried to be ‘us’ again. I tried to watch movies with you and not think about the way we kissed. I tried to listen to you talk about work and not remember the way you moaned when I was inside you!” He let out a harsh, guttural breath, his eyes wild and shimmering with a frustrated heat. “But then you walk into a club looking like that. You spend the whole night grinding against some strangers, looking back at me like you’re daring me to say something. And then you have the fucking nerve to tell me I need to get laid? Like I haven’t been starving for three months because I’m stuck in ‘best friend’ purgatory?”
“I didn’t ask you to wait!” your voice trembled with a mix of fury and a terrifying, rising ache in your chest. “If you wanted me, you should have said something! You should have stopped me from leaving that morning! But you just fucking sat there and let me walk out!”
“Because I was terrified! I was terrified that if I reached for you, I’d lose the only person who actually knows me. I thought I could handle being your friend. I thought I could watch you date and smile and be happy. But tonight? Seeing his hands on you?” He leaned down, his forehead thumping against yours with a dull, desperate thud. His breath was hot, smelling of malt and obsession. “It felt like someone was ripping my ribs out of my chest,” he whispered, the anger turning into something far more dangerous—honesty. “I’m done, baby. I’m done pretending. I’m a fucking wreck. Are you happy now? Is this the ‘fun’ you wanted me to have?”
You felt the heat of him radiating through your clothes, the violent rhythm of his heart drumming against your own ribs. Your hands, which had been balled into fists against his chest, slowly unfurled, your fingers clutching at the damp fabric of his shirt.
The silence of the parking lot was heavy, broken only by the distant, rhythmic hum of the club and the ragged hitch of Mingi’s breath against your mouth. The cold air nipped at your damp skin, but where your bodies pressed together, the heat was suffocating.
“I’m not happy,” you whispered, your voice cracking as the last of your defensive anger dissolved into a jagged, aching vulnerability. “I'm exhausted, Mingi. I’ve been waiting for you to say something. Anything.”
Mingi’s hands, which had been bruising your hips, suddenly shifted. One slid up the curve of your spine, his palm flat and searing, while the other tangled deep into the hair at the base of your skull, tilting your head back until you were forced to meet the raw, unmasked hunger in his eyes. He didn’t look like your best friend anymore.
“You want me to say it?” he rasped, his lips brushing yours with every word, a torture of near-contact. “I want you. I’ve wanted you since the second I woke up that morning and saw you curled by my side. I wanted to pull you closer and never let the sun come up.” He leaned in, his nose sliding against yours, his grip tightening until you were fused to the cold metal of the SUV. “I don’t want to be your ‘friend’ tonight, I don’t want to be the guy who vets your dates or buys you a beer while you dance with someone else. I want to be the reason you can’t walk tomorrow. I want to be the only name you can remember.”
He paused, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, his touch heavy and possessive. “Tell me to stop. Right now. Tell me you want the ‘best friend’ back, and I’ll walk away. I’ll go find that girl. I’ll do exactly what you told me to do.”
You looked at him—at the damp platinum hair, the red mark of your palm still burning on his cheek, the intensity of his stare—and felt the last of your resolve shatter. You couldn’t tell him to stop.
Instead, you arched your back, pulling his hips flush against yours, your fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders. “Don’t go.”
Mingi didn’t give you a chance to change your mind. He crashed his mouth against yours, the contact violent and desperate, a collision of three months of starved silence. It wasn’t a gentle kiss; it was a reclamation. His tongue demanding entry as he groaned deep in his throat—a sound of pure relief.
His hands were everywhere—clutching your waist, hiking up the hem of your dress, his skin a brand against yours. He backed you harder into the car, the suspension creaking under the weight of his aggression. He kissed you like he was trying to breathe you in, like he was trying to erase the ghost of every other hand that had touched you. It was messy, teeth clashing, the salt of your sweat mixing as he tilted your head back at a sharp angle to get deeper, hungrier. You didn’t fight him. You were kissing him back with the same pent-up rage. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers tangling in those blonde, sweat-damp strands, pulling him closer until there wasn’t a molecule of air left between your bodies.
“Min—” you whimpered into his mouth, the name broken and small.
His large hand slid down from your face, his fingers pug your dress higher, knuckles grazing the sensitive skin of your tight. He broke the kiss to bury his face in the crook of your neck, his breath scalding your skin. He bit—not a nip, but a sharp, possessive mark, making you arch your back and cry out into the empty parking lot. His hands were everywhere now, frantic and heavy, mapping the curves he’d spent days trying to forget.
“Mine,” he muttered against your skin, his voice a dark, fractured thing. “You’re mine.”
The metal of the SUV groaned as Mingi surged forward, his body crushing you into the side of the car. He didn’t just hold your leg; he hiked it higher, his forearm hooking under the crook of your knee to pull you flush against the hard, frantic line of his hips. The friction of his denim against your bare inner thigh was a jolt of pure electricity, a rough, grounding contrast to the slick, desperate heat of his mouth. Mingi’s grip on your thighs tightened until his knuckles went white, his fingers sinking into your skin with a bruising, territorial force that made you let out a sharp, jagged gasp. He didn’t care about the bruises he was leaving; he wanted you to feel every ounce of hunger he’d been choking back.
“Say it,” he growled, his voice vibrating against the sensitive cord of your neck. He didn’t wait for you to speak, his teeth grazing the skin he’d just bitten, soothing and then stinging again. “Tell me you’re mine before I lose my fucking mind.” His free hand, the one not holding your leg, didn’t stay still. It slid upward, the tips of his fingers dragging over the silk of your dress, bunching the fabric until he found the damp, heated skin of your waist. He didn’t stop there. He pushed the material higher, his palm sliding over your ribs with a possessive, heavy pressure that made your breath hitch in a series of broken stammers. He moved his hand from your waist, his fingers fumbling with the button of his own jeans with a frantic, clumsy desperation. He broke away from your neck, his face flushed, his eyes dark and blown out with a hunger that was terrifyingly beautiful.
“Say it,” he growled again, his voice dropping into a guttural, terrifying register as he ground his hips into yours. You felt the hard, insistent length of his cock through his clothes. The friction was a white-hot spark against your core, the heavy, rigid length of him pressing through the thin silk of your dress with an uncompromising demand. “I want to hear you admit what a fucking liar you’ve been. Tell me you’re mine before I fuck the memory of that other prick out of your head right here on the street.”
Your head thrashed back against the cold glass of the car window, a low, desperate whine vibrating in your throat. “Min… Please… It’s you. I promise it’s you.”
“That’s not what I asked,” he hissed, his mouth crashing onto the sensitive junction of your neck and shoulder. He pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, his pupils so dilated they swallowed the gold of his irises. “I don’t want ‘it’s you.’ I want you to say the words. Tell me you’re my slut. Tell me you’ve been sitting across from me for months dreaming about me pinning you down like this.”
He didn’t wait for your answer. He let go of one of your legs, his hand diving between your bodies to finish what he’d started with his jeans. You heard the harsh, metallic zip of his fly—a sound that felt like a death knell for your dignity. He didn’t think about a condom; he didn’t even slow down. He grabbed his own length, his other hand bluntly and impatiently pulling the lace of your panties to the side.
Mingi guided himself to the soaking, frantic heat of your entrance. The feel of him—thick, hot, and uncompromisingly hard—pressing against your opening made your vision spark. He wasn’t entering you yet, but he was right there, the blunt head of him sliding through the slickness you’d made for him, teasing the very edge of the abyss.
“Look at you,” he taunted, his breath hitching as he felt how ready you were. “Leaking like a fucking sink for me while you were telling yourself we were ‘just friends’ ten minutes ago. You’re so desperate for me you don’t even care who sees.” He hiked your leg higher, his forearm pressing into the glass behind your head to steady himself. He leaned in until his nose was brushing yours. “I’m going to stretch you out so wide you won’t be able to walk back into that club,” he promised, his hips twitching in a slow, shallow thrust that tested your limits. “I’m going to fill you with so much of me that you’ll smell like me for a week. Now, tell me who you belong to before I take it.”
“Min, someone... someone might—”
“Let them fucking look,” he rasped, his voice a jagged edge. He didn’t care about the yellow wash of the street lamps or the muffled, rhythmic thump of the club doors.
“Min… stop,” you gasped, your fingers trembling as you shoved against the hard wall of his chest, trying to find a single inch of air. “Not here. Take me… take me home. Please.”
He didn’t let go. If anything, he pressed closer. “Take you home?” he leaned in until his lips were grazing yours, his teeth bared in a jagged sneer. “What, you worried that suit might walk out and see you getting exactly what you’ve been begging for? You want to be a lady now?”
"No, I just— Not here,” you gasped, “Mingi, please... not on the street. Take me home. Just—get me home.” You were breathless, your voice a ragged thread of sound that broke against his lips. You didn’t pull away; instead, you buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the salt, the expensive cologne, and the raw, terrifying heat of him. You bit down on the corded tendon of his shoulder, a sharp, desperate nip that was less about pain and more a wordless, frantic plea.
Mingi let out a sound that was half-groan, half-growl, his forehead thumping against the car window with a dull thud as he fought the urge to just sink into you right there. He stayed pinned against you for a heartbeat, his chest heaving in sync with yours.
The silence of the alleyway seemed to roar in his ears.
Slowly, the haze in his eyes cleared just enough for him to see the way you were shaking in his arms—not just from the cold, but from the sheer, overwhelming weight of him. With a sharp, frustrated exhale, he snapped. He pulled back abruptly, his hands leaving your skin so suddenly you nearly stumbled. “Home,” he nodded slowly, the word sounding like a vow.
He didn’t drop you gently. He slid you down the side of the car, his hands never leaving your waist, his thumbs digging into your hip bones to keep you steady as your heels hit the pavement. His eyes were dark, almost black in the orange glow of the streetlamp, tracking the way your chest rose and fell. He reached out, his fingers trembling as he jerked your dress back down, smoothing the fabric over your thighs with a possessive, territorial rough-handedness.
“Don’t move,” he stepped back just far enough to fumble with his zipper, his movements jagged and impatient. He didn’t look toward the club; he looked toward the street, his arm shooting up the second he spotted the yellow glow of a taxi rounding the corner two blocks away.
He didn’t wait for it to reach you. He started walking toward the edge of the curb, his hand locked around your wrist, pulling you behind him with a singular, focused gravity. He was a different person—harder, faster, his shoulders set in a line that warned the world to stay the hell away. The taxi screeched to a halt, the driver barely having time to put it in park before Mingi yanked the back door open. He practically folded you into the seat, his body following yours so closely that you were pinned against the far door before he’d even slammed the car shut.
“Where to?” the driver asked, glancing in the rearview mirror.
Mingi gave his address, his voice dropping an octave, his hand already finding your thigh under the cover of the shadows. He didn’t care about the driver. He didn’t care about the neon lights of the city blurring past the window. He leaned over you, his hand sliding up your leg to bunch the fabric of your dress back toward your hips, his eyes fixed on yours with a terrifying, beautiful promise.
The interior of the taxi was a cramped, vinyl-scented capsule, the orange glow of the street lamps strobing across Mingi’s face in rhythmic, violent flashes. The driver hummed some mindless radio tune, oblivious to the fact that the air in the backseat was thick enough to choke on.
Mingi didn’t waste a second. He shifted, pinning you against the far door, his thigh slotting between yours to keep them spread. He looked out the window, his jaw set in a hard, protruding line of feigned indifference for the driver’s benefit, but his hand was doing something entirely different. His fingers hooked into the hem of your dress, the fabric sliding up your skin with a dry, rasping sound. He didn’t stop until his knuckles bumped against the damp lace of your underwear. You let out a soft, broken hitch of a breath, your head falling back against the window as the cool glass met your burning skin.
“Mingi,” you breathed, a warning and a plea rolled into one.
“Shh,” he rasped, finally turning his head to look at you. “You wanted to go home. We’re going. But I’m not stopping.”
He slid his hand beneath the lace, his palm cupping you with a sudden, bruising heat. You buckled against him, your fingers digging into the denim of his thighs. The taxi hit a pothole, jouncing the cabin, and Mingi used the momentum to drive his palm harder against you. He didn’t just slide his fingers in; he paused at the threshold, the tips of his fingers merely fluttering against the soaked silk of your underwear. He began to stroke you—just a feather-light touch at first, a torturous promise—before his fingers dipped lower, finding the slick, aching heat you’d been hiding all night. Your head hit the headrest, a choked-back moan dying in your throat. You could feel the vibration of the car’s engine beneath you, but it was nothing compared to the violent thrumming of Mingi’s heart against your shoulder.
“Look at this,” he whispered, his voice thick with a terrifying sort of triumph. He shifted his hand, bringing his damp fingers up between your faces so you could see the shimmer of yourself on his skin in the passing glow of a streetlamp. “All that talk about being ‘friends’ and ‘slip-ups,’ and you’re leaking for me in the back of a fucking taxi.” He leaned in, his nose brushing yours, his scent—sharp, masculine, and intoxicating—filling your head. He slid one finger in, just past the first knuckle, hooking it upward. You let out a strangled, high-pitched whimper, your hips jerking upward in a desperate search for friction. “You wanted me to put these hands on a stranger? To make her feel like this?” He pulled his finger back out until he was barely there. He did it again. And again. A rhythmic, shallow teasing that was ten times worse than the frantic grinding in the parking lot. He was reclaiming you, inch by agonising inch.
“You like that?” he rasped, his thumb catching your clit and pinning it with a heavy, steady pressure that made your vision go white at the edges. “I bet that suit didn’t even get close enough to know how sensitive you are right here. He didn’t know that if I press just like this, you start shaking, did he?” He began to move in a slow, torturous rhythm—not fast enough to bring you to the edge, but deep enough to keep the ache in your lower belly twisting into a tight knot. Every time you tried to buck against him to speed him up, he’d still his hand, or pull back entirely until you were whimpering for him to continue.
“Please,” you sobbed into his neck, your fingers digging so hard into his shoulders you were sure you’d leave marks.
“Please what, baby? Please stop?” He nipped at the skin of your throat, his fingers stretching you open as he added a second digit, sliding it in alongside the first with a deliberate, slow friction. “Or please don’t stop because you’ve been thinking about this as much as I have? Tell me the truth. While you were dancing with him, were you wondering if he’d touch you like this? Were you wondering if he knew how to make you fall apart?” He increased the pace just a fraction, his knuckles rubbing against your inner thigh, the heavy silver of his rings a cold, hard contrast to the blistering heat of your body.
You were melting, your breath coming in shallow, frantic hitches as the pressure built, centring right where his thumb was grinding.
“You aren’t finishing in the back of a Prius. You’re going to wait until we’re home. You’re going to wait until I can hear you moaning my name,” he looked out the window as the taxi pulled up to the curb of his apartment building. He didn’t move his hand until the car came to a full stop. Then, with one final, deep thrust that drew a sob from your throat, he withdrew, the sudden loss of heat and pressure making you feel dizzy. He wiped his fingers on the seat beside him—or perhaps your dress, you couldn’t tell—payed the driver, and leaned over to open the door, his eyes burning with a promise that made the taxi ride feel like a mere appetiser.
“Out,” he ordered, his eyes dark with a promise that made your knees feel like water. “I’m done teasing.”
The lobby was a blur of marble and hushed silence, a stark contrast to the war zone in the back of the taxi. Mingi didn’t let go of your wrist, his stride long and jagged as he hauled you toward the elevators. His knuckles were still damp, the scent of you clinging to his skin, and he didn’t even try to hide the way his gaze devoured the curve of your throat.
The chime of the elevator felt like a starter pistol. The doors slid shut with a heavy, mechanical sigh, sealing the two of you into a mirrored box of brushed steel. Mingi slammed his palm against the button for the 12th floor and then immediately pivoted, his arm lashing out to pin you against the handrail. The elevator jolted upward, the sudden gravity pulling your stomach into your throat, but Mingi’s weight was the only thing keeping you upright.
“Twelve floors,” he rasped, his voice a low, vibrating growl that echoed off the metal walls. “You have exactly twelve floors before I have you behind a locked door.”
His hand slid up from your waist, his palm flat and heavy against your ribs. His fingers splayed wide as he reached the underside of your breast. He squeezed—not a gentle caress, but a firm, possessive claim that made you gasp, your head thumping back against the mirrored wall. He leaned down, his teeth nipping at the sensitive junction where your neck met your shoulder, his tongue licking the sting away a second later.
His other hand dived low, his fingers hooking into the hem of your dress and yanking it up to your hips. He didn’t care about the security camera in the corner. He shoved his knee between your thighs, forcing them apart, his hand sliding over the silk of your underwear to find the heat he’d left behind in the taxi. He began to rub, a slow, heavy friction that made your knees buckle. “Look at yourself,” he commanded, nodding toward the mirrors.
You looked and saw the wreckage of your hair, the flush climbing up your chest, and Mingi—towering over you, his blonde hair a mess, his large hand disappearing between your legs.
“Floor six,” he whispered against your ear, his breath scalding. His thumb find your nipple through the dress and pinched, a sharp bolt of pleasure-pain that made you cry out. He caught the sound in his own mouth, kissing you with a bruising, desperate hunger that tasted of beer and obsession. His hands were a frantic map, sliding from the swell of your breasts down to the soft meat of your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin.
“Floor nine,” he groaned into the hollow of your throat, his hand sliding back down to grip your thigh, hitching it up around his waist so he could grind his dressed hardness against your core. The friction was a slow-motion torture that had you sobbing his name into the quiet hum of the elevator.
The chime for the 12th floor was the loudest sound you’d ever heard. The doors slid open. Mingi didn’t let you down. He kept your leg hooked around his hip, his arm a steel band around your waist as he practically carried you down the hall, his keys already out and jingling with a frantic, metallic rhythm.
He fumbled with the keys, his breath coming in short, jagged hitches that rattled in his chest. The lock clicked and he kicked the door open, dragging you inside into the pitch-black entryway. He didn’t turn on the lights and slammed the door shut behind you, the boom echoing through the empty apartment, and in the same motion, he shoved you back against it. The wood was solid and unforgiving against your spine, a cold shock that lasted only a second before Mingi’s heat incinerated it. He dropped his weight into you, his forearms slamming against the door on either side of your head, pinning you in the narrow dark. The only light came from the city skyline bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room, casting his silhouette in a jagged, silver outline. He didn’t give you a chance to breathe. He reached down, his hands catching the hem of your dress and yanking it up past your hips, the fabric bunching around your waist in a frantic, messy pile. His palms were scorching, his skin a brand against your thighs as he hiked your legs up, his strong arms hooking under your knees to lift you off the floor.
You let out a broken gasp, your hands flying to his shoulders, your fingers digging into the material of his shirt for balance. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your heels locking behind his back, pulling him flush against the aching, empty core. He buried his face in the crook of your neck. He didn’t kiss you; he claimed you.
“I’ve spent three months staring at this door, remembering the way you looked when you walked through it the last time. I’m not letting you go until I’ve had every fucking inch of you.”
He shifted his grip, one hand staying under your thigh while the other moved to his jeans, the metallic rasp of his zipper sounding like a gunshot in the quiet apartment. He was shaking—you could feel the tremors in his muscles, the raw, unhinged desperation of a man who had reached his absolute limit. When he adjusted his grip on your thighs and surged forward, the air didn’t just leave your lungs—it was stolen.
His cock was massive. A blunt, heavy intrusion that felt like he was rearranging the very architecture of your body. The initial stretch was a sharp, searing sting, a fire that made your eyes snap wide and your breath hitch into a tight, jagged sob. It was too much; it was the physical manifestation of ninety days of starved silence suddenly demanding entry all at once.
“Mingi—wait,” you wheezed, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, your knuckles white as you tried to find your bearings.
“No,” he growled, the word a dark, guttural vibration against the sensitive cord of your throat. He didn’t pull back. He stayed buried deep to the absolute hilt, his forehead thumping against the door next to your ear as he fought the urge to just cum right then. His muscles were coiling like overwound springs, his skin radiator-hot against yours. “Don’t you dare tell me to wait,” his teeth grazed your earlobe with a threatening pressure. “You’ve made me wait for three fucking months. So now, you’re going to take every bit of this.”
He didn’t ease you into it. He began to move—a shallow, punishing rhythm that forced your head back against the wood. Every strike was a blunt-force, pleasure and pain, the sting began to dull into a heavy, throbbing ache, a fullness that radiated from your core to your toes.
You let out a long, shaky moan, your hips tilting instinctively to take more of him. Your hands, frantic and clumsy with adrenaline, fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, your fingernails grazing the damp, hard heat of his chest. You needed him closer. You needed the barrier of the fabric gone. As the shirt fell open, you pressed your palms against his bare skin, feeling the violent gallop of his heart.
“Take it off,” you whimpered into the hollow of his neck, your teeth catching on his skin. “Min, please.”
He let out a sound that was purely animal. He didn’t take the shirt off; he simply ripped it back, the buttons popping and skittering across the hardwood floor like hail. He caught your face in his hand, his thumb digging into your cheek as he kissed you—a messy, desperate collision of tongues and teeth that tasted of salt and obsession.
He hammered into you, his thrusts deep and punishing, pinning you against the door with a force that made the hinges groan. Every impact sent a shockwave through your frame, your head knocking back against the wood in time with his movements. The pain was gone, incinerated by a white-hot friction that made your vision blur into streaks.
Mingi pulled back just an inch, his eyes raking over the silk fabric of your dress. He didn’t reach for a zipper at the side. He didn’t look for a seam. He hooked his large fingers into the delicate neckline and pulled. The sound of the silk shredding was a sharp, violent protest in the quiet hallway. He hauled the fabric down, the material bunching around your waist and then falling to the floor in a ruined, expensive heap. He didn’t stop until you were completely exposed to the cool air of the apartment, your skin pale and shivering under the harsh focus of his gaze. He grabbed your waist again, his thumbs digging into your hip bones as he slammed you back against the door. Without the silk as a barrier, the contact was electric.
“You’re so tight,” he rasped, the words broken and guttural, hissed into the sensitive shell of your ear. “Fucking killing me... how much you want this.” His hand moved to your breast, his palm heavy and possessive, thumb catching your sensitive nipple and rolling it with a bruising pressure that made you cry out. Mingi couldn’t care less about the noise. He didn’t care about the neighbours or the world outside. He was focused entirely on the way you were breaking around him, the way your legs were locked around his waist, your heels drumming against the small of his back.
His pace became frantic, a blurring, heavy friction that pushed you toward a ledge you weren’t ready for. He was growling now, his breath coming in ragged, wet hitches, his mouth against your cheek as he felt the first tremors of your climax begin to ripple through you.
“Look at me.” You opened your eyes, your vision swimming with tears and pleasure. Even in the dark, his eyes were burning, fixed on yours with a terrifying, singular focus. “Tell me,” he gasped, his pace quickening, his chest heaving against yours until you could feel the frantic gallop of his heart. “Tell me who’s inside you. Say the name.”
“Mingi,” you sobbed, the name a shattered, breathless thing as you gripped his hair, pulling his face closer. You couldn’t even think; the sheer, thick volume of him was filling every corner of your consciousness, stretching you until you felt like you might split apart from the pleasure of it. “It’s you.”
He didn’t stop. His pace was a heavy, wet rhythm that echoed through the apartment. Each thrust was a blunt-force, pinning you so hard against the door that the wood vibrated against your shoulder blades. “Say it again,” he growled, his teeth bared, sweat dripping from the tip of his nose onto your cheek. “Tell me whose you are.”
“Yours,” you moaned, your hips buckling, chasing the friction as the pressure behind your navel tightened. “Mingi, I’m yours. Please—I’m close. I’m so close.”
His breath hitched, a jagged, guttural sound as his own control finally disintegrated. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his muscles corded like steel cables under your palms. He was trembling violently, his thrusts reaching a shallow speed that told you he was right on the precipice. “Where?” he rasped, the word barely a whisper, thick with a desperate urgency. He gripped your hips so hard his fingers left white imprints on your skin. “Where do you want it? Tell me where, baby, before I lose it.”
You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in as if you could pull him into your very soul. “Inside,” you choked out, your voice dropping to a raw, pleading whimper. “Inside me, give it all to me. Fill me up.”
The permission was the final blow. Mingi let out a low, primal roar that vibrated through your entire chest cavity. He surged forward one last time, burying himself to the absolute hilt, and stalled there. His entire body locked up, his head snapping back as he came, the sheer force of it pulsing through him in heavy, rhythmic waves. You felt the blistering heat of him flooding you—a thick, relentless spill that made your own walls contract in a violent, cascading climax. You cried out, your voice dying in your throat as your vision sparked with silver, your body sagging against him as the world tilted and dissolved.
For a long minute, the only sound in the entryway was the ragged, sobbing hitch of your combined breathing. Mingi stayed buried inside you, his forehead resting against the door, his chest heaving as if he’d just survived a wreck. He didn’t move, holding you up as the mess of him began to trickle down your skin.
Slowly, he pulled his head back, his eyes searching yours in the dim silver light. He kissed you, his lips lingering as he let your legs slide down his body until your feet touched the floor.
Your legs were liquid, useless stalks of flax that buckled the moment your heels touched the hardwood. You would have crumpled right there in the entryway, amidst the ruins of your dress, his shirt and the lingering scent of sex. But Mingi didn’t let you fall. He caught you, his large hands clamping under your armpits with a strength that felt more like a crane than a caress.
He didn’t lead you. He hauled you up, his arm hooking under your knees and his other hand bracing your back. You were a dead weight against his bare, sweat-slicked chest, your head lolling against his shoulder as the hallway blurred past.
He reached the threshold of the bedroom and tossed you. You hit the mattress with a heavy whump, the air huffing out of your lungs as you bounced once, twice, before settling into the tangled, dark sheets. The bed smelled faintly of him but it was quickly being overwhelmed by the scent of the two of you, salt and sex.
Mingi didn’t join you immediately. He stood at the foot of the bed, a dark silhouette against the moonlight, his chest heaving as he stared down at you. He looked like a man who had just won a war and didn’t know what to do with the prisoner.
He kicked off his boots, the heavy thuds echoing like stones hitting a grave, and then his hands went to his jeans.
“You think that was it?” he stripped the rest of his clothes off with a violent, impatient efficiency, throwing them toward the corner without looking. “You think I’m just going to let you sleep after what you did tonight?”
He reached out, his hand wrapping around your ankle with a grip that felt like an iron shackle. He unbuckled the delicate straps of your heels and tossed them aside like they were trash. Then, he crawled onto the bed, the mattress dipping dangerously under his weight. He didn’t come at you from the side; he moved over you like a shadow, his knees pinning your thighs down, his hands catching your wrists and pinning them above your head.
He was still hard—viciously so—the evidence of his release in the hallway still glistening on his skin. He looked down at you, his blonde hair falling over his eyes, his expression stripped of every ounce of the “best friend” mask.
“I’m going to make you stay awake until you can’t even remember that prick’s name,” he hissed, his face dropping until his nose was an inch from yours. “I'm going to mark every inch of skin he even thought about looking at.”
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your lace panties—the ones that were a soaked from your slick and his cum, a ripped mess from how he pushed them aside in the hallway with too much force. Mingi didn’t slide them down your legs. He buried his knuckles into your hip bones and ripped them. The sound of the lace tearing was a sharp, final punctuation. He shredded the fabric, pulling the scraps away and throwing them into the dark behind him.
He dived down, his mouth catching your breast with a hunger that was borderline painful, his tongue swirling around the peak while his other hand slid down, his fingers spreading your folds open with a rough focus. You were still sensitive, still pulsing, and the sudden, heavy contact made you cry out, your hips jerking upward in a frantic, uncoordinated search for release.
“Min, please—”
“I told you,” he growled, his voice vibrating against your skin. “Don’t fucking ‘Min’ me. You wanted this version of me? You wanted the guy who needs to ‘get laid’? You’ve got him. At the club you had a lot of advice for me, didn’t you? You told me I was ‘wound too tight.’ You told me exactly what I needed to fix my mood.”
He let out a low, dark chuckle that didn’t reach his eyes.
“What were the words, baby? ‘Your dick needs a good sucking’?” He threw the phrase back at you like a slur, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw before hooking into your mouth, forcing your lips open. “You were so worried about my stress levels. So eager to find me a ‘victim’ to take care of it,” he hissed. “Well, the victim’s right here, and I’m still wound pretty fucking tight. So, since you’re such an expert on what I need, why don’t you show me? No more talk. Do exactly what you said I needed.”
He didn’t wait for you to move on your own. He grabbed your waist and hauled you off the bed, his movements jerky and impatient. “On your knees, use that fucking mouth for something other than lying to me,” he commanded, “I want to hear you choke on every word you said tonight.”
Mingi didn’t sit back to enjoy the view. He stood over you, his legs braced wide. His hand didn’t just rest on your head; it clamped into your hair, his knuckles scraping against your scalp as he forced your face forward. “Do it,” he hissed, the word a serrated edge in the quiet room. “Show me exactly how you’d take care of a stranger. Show me what you were going to offer that suit.”
When you finally took his cock into your mouth, the sheer, thick volume of him was shocking. Your jaw ached instantly, the muscles straining to accommodate the heavy, pulsing heat of him. You started slow, your tongue swirling around the tip, tasting the salt and the lingering, raw scent of the night, but Mingi wasn’t interested in a slow burn. He groaned—a low, guttural vibration that you felt in your teeth—and his grip in your hair tightened until your eyes watered. You leaned in further, your nose brushing against the coarse hair at the base of him, the scent of his skin—musk, sweat, and adrenaline—filling your lungs until you were lightheaded. You were drooling, the slick moisture running down your chin and dripping, but you didn’t pull away.
“Suck it,” he commanded, his voice dropping into a dark, demeaning rasp. “Like you’ve been starving for it.”
He didn’t wait for you to find a rhythm. He began to move his hips, a slow, rhythmic surge that forced you to swallow him deeper. Every time you tried to pull back for air, his hand at the back of your head became a vice, slamming you back forward. He was fucking your throat, his thrusts reaching a shallow speed that triggered your gag reflex, making your chest heave against his thighs. You were choking, a muffled, wet sound dying in your throat, but Mingi didn’t ease up. He liked the sound. He liked the way your eyes were wide and shimmering with tears, fixed on his as he looked down at you with a cold, predatory triumph.
“That’s it,” he growled, his breath coming in ragged, animalistic hitches. “Choke on it, baby. Let me feel how much you hate that you love this. Tell me again how I’m just your ‘best friend’ while you’re down there on your knees like a fucking dog.”
He increased the pace, his hands moving from your hair to your shoulders, pinning you down so you couldn’t move an inch. He was relentless, his cock sliding past the point of comfort, hitting the back of your throat with a blunt, rhythmic force.
“You’re so pathetic,” he taunted, his thumb reaching down to rub a drop of moisture from your lip before smearing it on your cheek. “Acting all high and mighty at the bar, and now you’re desperate. You’re shaking.” He wasn’t close to being done. He was using you to vent every ounce of the ninety days of silence, every second of the jealousy that had been eating him alive. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at him as he continued to drive into your mouth. “Is this ‘fun’ enough for you?” he groaned, his voice breaking with the effort of his control. “Is this what you wanted to see? The version of me that doesn’t give a fuck about your feelings?”
Mingi hauled you back up by the roots of your hair, your head snapping back as he forced you to sit on your heels. You were a wreck—makeup smudged into dark halos around your eyes, your lips swollen and slick, a string of saliva trailing down to the curve of your collarbone. You looked exactly how he’d imagined you, and the sight of it seemed to strip the last of the humanity from his expression.
Mingi’s hand was a heavy at the base of your skull, his fingers deep in your hair as he set a rhythm that was purely for his own satisfaction. Every time he drove deep, the world blurred into a haze of white noise and the suffocating scent of him, your throat working desperately around the thick, relentless intrusion of his length. You were drowning in him, your senses overloaded by the friction and the raw, guttural sounds he was making above you.
Unable to stay still, your hand drifted downward, your fingers seeking the slick, aching heat between your thighs. The moment you touched yourself, the sensation was a violent electric shock; you were so sensitive, so over-sensitised by the rough treatment and the crushing fullness in your throat, that the slightest pressure felt like an explosion. You were a drenched, pulsing mess, your fingers sliding through the excessive wetness you’d made for him as you began to work yourself in sync with his thrusts.
The sight of it—the way you were frantically helping yourself while he used your mouth—sent Mingi straight to the edge. He watched your eyes roll back, your hips twitching in a desperate, uncoordinated rhythm, and he felt the frantic, wet heat of your throat tightening around him in response.
“Fuck, you’re so close,” he choked out, his voice a fractured wreck. He could feel the pressure building behind his eyes, a searing, white-hot tension that told him he was seconds away from losing control completely. “Three months of acting like you were too good for this. Three months of playing the ‘best friend’ while you were probably dreaming about being exactly where you are right now.”
He didn’t want to finish in your mouth; he wanted to see the mess he’d made. Mingi didn’t let go of your hair as he pulled out, the sudden rush of air into your lungs making you let out a broken, wheezing sob. He watched your hand move frantically between your legs. You were too far gone to stop; the friction of his throat-fucking had left you on a razor’s edge, and the sight of him—hard, twitching, and lethal—was the final shove you needed.
“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice a jagged, guttural snap. “Don’t you dare close your eyes. Watch what you’re doing to yourself for me.”
You obeyed, your eyes wide and glazed with a terrifying level of pleasure as you worked your fingers against your swollen core. You were drenched, the sound of the wet friction loud in the quiet room. Mingi’s hand moved to his own length, his grip blunt and punishing as he matched your frantic pace. He was snarling now, his teeth bared, his eyes fixed on the way your hips were jerking, the way your inner thighs were trembling.
“That's it,” he rasped, his own rhythm turning into a blur of motion. “Come for me, you slut. Show me how much you want it.”
The world fractured. You hit your peak with a high, shattered scream that echoed off the walls, your body arching off the floor as your muscles convulsed in a violent, rhythmic release. Right as you shattered, Mingi let out a low, animalistic roar, his own body locking up as he finally let go. The first splash of his cum hit your cheek, a searing, thick contrast to the cool air of the room. You gasped, your eyes fluttering shut for a second before you forced them open, watching him as he came. It was a heavy, relentless release, painting your skin—the bridge of your nose, the corner of your mouth, your other cheek. Mingi didn’t stop until he was spent, his breath coming in sobbing, jagged bursts. You were still twitching from your own orgasm, your breath coming in sobbing hitches, when the final, hot spray landed against your forehead.
He looked down at the wreckage of your face with a mix of hunger and a terrifying, dazed possessiveness. “You’re nothing but a little cum slut, aren’t you?” He whispered, his voice a broken thread of sound. “Now you look right. Now you look like you belong to me.”
Slowly, your fingers traced the heavy, warm smear on your cheek, dragging the heat toward the corner of your mouth. When your tongue flicked out, catching the stray, salt-sharp drop from your lip, the sound that left Mingi’s throat wasn’t human. It was a low groan—a guttural vibration that started deep in his chest and broke against his teeth.
“Fuck,” he rasped, leaning closer, his shadow swallowing you as he watched you swallow him.
You tasted the raw, metallic tang of him. You didn’t just take it; you looked him dead in the eye, your tongue tracing the seam of your lips to make sure you didn’t miss a single drop. You were a mess—covered in his cum, your face flushed and ruined—and you were offering it back to him as a final, absolute surrender.
“You like it, don’t you?” his thumb slid into your mouth, dragging across your tongue. He let out another fractured, breathless groan. “You’re sitting here, looking like a fucking angel with my mess on your face, and you’re asking for more.” He grabbed your jaw, his fingers digging into your skin with a territorial, bruising intensity that made your breath hitch. He wasn’t just satisfied; he was re-ignited. The sight of your total lack of shame—the way you were devouring the evidence of his claim—was the final match in the powder keg of his restraint.
You reached up, your fingers trembling as you gripped his wrist, pulling his hand just far enough from your lips so you could speak. You were trembling, your chest heaving with a desperate, frantic need that hadn’t been satisfied yet. “Say it again,” you whimpered, the words sliding out in a high, desperate whine. “Please... Call me that again.”
Mingi froze, his muscles locking up under your touch. “Say what?”
“What you called me,” you sobbed, the desperation finally breaking through. You looked up at him, your eyes blown out and shimmering with tears, the salt of his release still stinging your cheeks. “Call me that again. Call me your slut. I want to hear it while you’re looking at me. I want to know that’s all I am to you tonight.”
A dark, visceral shudder ran through Mingi’s entire frame. He let out a sound that was half-choke, half-growl, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling deep in your hair to force your head back. He leaned down until his lips were a hair’s breadth from yours, his breath searing. “You want to hear it?” he hissed, his voice dropping into that terrifying, guttural frequency that made your insides turn to liquid. “You want me to remind you how pathetic you are? How you’re sitting here on the floor, covered in my cum?”
“Yes,” you breathed, your hips reflexively hitching toward him. “Please, tell me.”
“You’re a slut,” he didn’t say it with kindness; he said it with the raw, territorial hunger of a man who had finally claimed his prize. “You’re my little slut. My lying, beautiful, desperate slut who’s finally exactly where she belongs.”
He watched the way the words made you shatter, the way your eyes rolled back and a high, broken moan tore from your throat. “You’re pathetic,” he rasped, his hand coming down to catch your jaw again. “A mess. Look at you, begging for it.”
“I am,” a small, broken sound. You leaned your face into his palm, your skin stinging where the stubble on his thumb caught. “I want... I want you to make me feel it. Slap me, Min. Do it.”
Mingi’s hand stilled against your jaw, his fingers curling into your hair as he stared at you with an expression that was both horrified and hungry. “What did you say?”
“I want... I want you to make me feel it,” you whispered, your voice a broken, jagged thread of sound. “I want you to make me understand. Slap me. Do it. Show me exactly what you think of me.”
A dark, visceral shudder ran through his frame. He didn’t hesitate. The sound of his palm connecting with your cheek was a sharp, heavy crack that echoed through the empty apartment. Your head snapped to the side, the force of it making your vision spark white for a split second. The sting was immediate—a white-hot, throbbing heat that radiated from your cheek down to your throat, making you moan.
Mingi didn’t let you pull away. He grabbed your jaw, his fingers digging into the bone to force your face back toward his. He was shaking, his chest heaving as if he’d just run a mile, his nostrils flared. “Is that what you want?” he hissed, his voice a jagged edge of pure, unadulterated menace. “You want me to treat you like a toy? You want me to leave marks so everyone knows what you’ve been doing behind closed doors?”
“Yes,” you sobbed, the word breaking against his lips. “Yes, please.”
He hit you again—shorter, sharper this time, the sound punctuated by the desperate, high-pitched whine that tore from your throat. He grabbed the back of your head, forcing you to look up at him. “You want me to treat you like you’re nothing? Like you’re just a place for me to put my dick in?”
He hadn’t even fully come down from the first two rounds before the sight of you, messy and pleading on your knees, had his dick surging back to life. “All fours. Now. I want your ass up and your head down.” His hand moved from your head to your shoulder, pulling you up only to shove you toward the mattress.
You scrambled to obey, your limbs heavy and uncoordinated, your knees dragging against the sheets. You pushed yourself up, your back arching as you lowered your chest to the pillows, leaving your hips elevated and exposed. The cool air hit your damp skin, making you shiver. Behind you, Mingi grabbed your hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh with a bruising intensity that marked his territory. He positioned himself at your entrance.
“Don’t you dare move,” he commanded, his voice a low, vibrating threat against your spine. He surged forward, a deep, uncompromising thrust that felt like it reached all the way to your ribs. You let out a loud, echoing moan, your forehead thumping into the pillow as the sheer, thick volume of him filled you to the absolute limit, your walls contracting in a desperate welcome.He wasn’t being careful. He immediately started hammering into you, the sound of skin hitting skin a rhythmic, wet slapping that filled the room. He reached forward, his hand finding your hair again and pulling, forcing your head up so you had to see your own reflection in the mirrored closet doors across the room.
“Look at yourself,” he hissed, his breath hot and ragged against your ear. “Look at what a mess you are for me. Tell me you’re my slut. Say it while I’m fucking the life out of you.”
“I’m yours,” you sobbed, your voice breaking as he hit that one spot deep inside, over and over, with a relentless, territorial precision. “I’m your slut, Mingi... please, don’t ever stop.”
He let out a low, primal roar, his thrusts becoming shallow and frantic as he reached the precipice. Mingi’s palm slammed into the soft meat of your ass with a stinging, heavy crack that echoed louder than your own frantic breathing. The impact made your spine whip into a sharp arch, your chest pressing so hard into the pillows that the air was forced out of your lungs in a jagged, high-pitched sob.
He reached forward, his hand sliding under your jaw and clamping around your throat. He didn’t cut off your air, but the weight of his palm was a heavy, suffocating collar that forced your head back at a punishing angle.
He leaned over your back, his bare chest a wall of heat against your spine. He didn’t kiss you; he sank his teeth into the sensitive skin of your shoulder, a sharp, jagged bite that drew a muffled, pained cry from your throat. He held it there, his teeth grinding into your skin until you felt the sting turn into a white-hot, throbbing ache that radiated down to your toes.
He let go of your neck only to grab both of your wrists, pinning them into the small of your back with one massive hand while his other hand found your ass again, spanking it with a territorial, bruising intensity. “Is it too much for you? Is the ‘best friend’ being too mean? Tell me to stop, slut.”
“No,” you sobbed, the word a broken, pathetic whine that was lost to the rhythmic, wet slapping of his hips against yours. You were a mess—your skin slick with sweat and the evidence of his earlier release, your vision sparking with every deep, uncompromising strike. “Mingi... please... don’t stop. I’m yours. Only yours.”
“Good,” he growled, the vibration of the word traveling through your body. He increased the pace, his thrusts reaching brutal speed that made the bed frame rattle against the wall. He was hammering into you, his knuckles rubbing against your inner thigh, his thumb finding that one specific spot he remembered and grinding into it with a relentless, heavy pressure.
You were breaking. The walls you’d built over the last three months weren’t just crumbling; they were on fire. You were a moaning, begging, sobbing wreck under him, your hips stuttering in a frantic, uncoordinated dance as you tried to keep up with his aggression. Every time you tried to pull away from the intensity, he’d yank your hair or tighten, forcing you to take every inch of him.
“Look at yourself,” he shoved his fingers into your mouth, tasting the salt of your tears as he forced you to choke on them. “Ninety days I sat across from you and acted like I didn’t want to do exactly this. Ninety days of you pretending you didn’t need this. And now look at you. You’re pathetic. You’re shaking for me.”
He suddenly released your wrists, but before you could even bring your hands forward to brace yourself, he grabbed your waist and hauled your hips upward, his fingers hooking into the front of your hip bones and pulling you back so hard you thought you might snap. He dived deep, his cock hitting the back of you with a blunt-force that made your vision go black for a split second.
“Mine,” he roared, the word a primal, guttural sound that tore from his throat. He was close—you could feel the tremors in his muscles, the way his breath was coming in ragged, wet hitches that rattled in his chest.
“I’m coming,” he hissed, his voice a fractured thread of sound. “And I’m going to fill you so full you won’t be able to think about another man for the rest of your fucking life.”
He surged forward one last time, his entire body locking up as he came. He let out a low groan, his forehead thumping against your back as he flooded you with a thick, relentless heat.
Mingi didn’t move, he stayed buried inside you, his heavy weight pinning you into the sheets, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. The silence that followed his release was suffocating, broken only by the ragged, wet sound of Mingi’s lungs fighting for air against your spine. He was a dead weight, his chest heaving, his skin slick and sticking to yours as the heat of him pooled inside you. But for you, the world hadn’t stopped. The friction, the bites, and the deep, territorial hammering had wound you into a tight, screaming knot of nerves that was now vibrating with fire.
You tried to shift, to grind your hips back against him in a desperate search for the friction he’d just stolen away, but he was too heavy. You were pinned, your face buried in the damp pillow, the salt of your tears stinging the raw skin of your cheeks.
“Mingi,” you whimpered, the name coming out as a broken, high-pitched sob. “Mingi, please... I can’t—I need to cum.”
He let out a low, vibrating grunt against your shoulder blade, his fingers still curled loosely into the hair at the base of your skull. The lack of response made the ache in your lower belly sharpen into a physical pain. You began to thrash weakly, your knees scraping against the sheets as you tried to find the ledge he’d just pushed you off.
“Please!” you cried out, your voice cracking, raw and whiny. “It hurts, Min. I’ve been so fucking good... I did everything. I let you... I let you do everything.”
The memory of the hallway, the cold door, the floor, and the taste of him flooded back, making your pulse hammer in your throat. You were a mess—covered in him, marked by him, and utterly unraveled.
“I need it,” you sobbed into the pillow, your hips bucking in a pathetic, uncoordinated jerk. “Please, don’t leave me like this. I was so good for you. Call me whatever you want, just—please, Mingi, make me cum.”
You felt him shift then. It wasn’t a gentle movement. He let out a dark, weary chuckle that sounded more like a growl, his head lifting from your back. He didn’t pull out; instead, he gripped your waist again, his fingers sinking into the bruises he’d already made.
“You’re still talking?” he rasped, his voice a jagged, exhausted thread. He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his breath searing. “You’re still demanding things?”
“I have to,” you wailed, your hands clawing at the headboard, your knuckles white. “I’m going to die if you don’t... please, Min... I was your slut, wasn’t I? Take care of your slut.”
The word seemed to spark the last of the embers in him. He didn’t rise back up to his feet, but he shifted his weight, reaching one large hand down between your bodies. When he found the slick, swollen clit—drenched in the evidence of his own release—you let out a scream that was muffled by the bedding.
“You were good,” he muttered, his thumb finding that sensitive peak and pinning it with a brutal, heavy pressure. He began to move, a slow, torturous circle that made your vision go white. “So fucking good.”
He increased the pressure, his other hand coming around to catch your throat again, holding you still as you began to shatter.
The moment his thumb ground into that hyper-sensitive peak, the tension that had been coiling in your gut for didn’t just snap—it exploded. Your back arched so violently your spine felt like it might crack, a sharp, broken scream tearing from your throat as the first wave hit. It wasn’t a quiet release; it was a violent one. You felt the sudden, hot deluge as you squirted, the fluid drenching his hand and splashing against the sheets and his own thighs in a frantic, uncontrollable flood.
“Fuck!” you wailed, your head thrashing against the pillow, your vision blurring into white static.
Mingi let out a dark, guttural sound—half-laugh, half-growl—as he felt the heat of you soaking the bed beneath him. He didn’t pull back. He didn’t give you a second to breathe or let your heart rate settle. Instead, the sight of you finally breaking, drowning in your own pleasure and his mess, seemed to snap the last of his restraint.
“Look at this,” he watched the fluid soak into the dark fabric of the sheets. “Look at what a fucking mess I made of you. You’re soaking my bed, baby. You’re practically drowning in it.”
He didn’t wait for the tremors in your thighs to stop. He gripped your hips again, and surged forward. He was still semi-soft from his release, but the sheer, friction-heavy contact of your contractions squeezing him, combined with the sight of your total undoing, had him hardening inside you again with a terrifying, rapid gravity.
“We’re not done,” he hissed, his teeth grazing the back of your neck. “You wanted to be my slut? You wanted to stay on your knees? Then stay there. I’m going to make sure you’re still twitching when the sun comes up.”
He grabbed your waist, his strength uncompromising as he forced you to shift. He hauled you around until you were flat on your back, your hair fanned out against the cushions. The transition was jarring, the cool air hitting your drenched skin and making your nipples peak instantly.
Mingi loomed over you, his knees bracketing your hips, his chest heaving. From this angle, he looked even more massive, his shadow swallowing you whole. He reached down, grabbing your ankles and shoving your knees back toward your chest, pinning you wide open in a position that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
The sight of you—flushed, trembling, and still glistening from your own climax—sent a fresh wave of heat through him. He looked down at your face, seeing the red mark on your cheek and the dazed, broken look in your eyes, and his jaw tightened.
“I want to see your face when I do this,” his hand slid down to guide his rigid, pulsing length back to your entrance. He was already heavy and leaking again. “I want to see your eyes roll back when you realise you’re never going to be empty again.”
He leaned forward, his weight crushing you into the bed, and began to sink back in. It was a slow deep stretch, his eyes locked onto yours as he watched the exact moment the air left your lungs.
He began to move again, but the rhythm was different now—slower, heavier, and even more punishing. Every thrust was a wet, sliding impact, the sound of skin hitting skin loud and rhythmic in the quiet room. Because of how wet you were, he was sliding deep, hitting your cervix with a blunt force that made you sob, your hands clutching the sheets as you tried to keep your balance.
Mingi watched your face with a predatory stillness, his eyes tracking every flicker of sensation that crossed your features. He didn’t move fast. He didn’t give you the frantic pace. Instead, he began a slow, deep grind, his hips rotating in a way that forced you to feel every single ridge, every throb of his pulse against your internal walls.
“Does that hurt?” he whispered, his voice a low, vibrating hum that seemed to resonate inside your very bones. “Or does it just ache? Tell me how it feels to have me taking up every inch of you while you’re still coming down.”
He pulled back so slowly it was a torture of its own, the slick friction of his withdrawal making your breath hitch in a series of broken, stuttering hitches. Just as you thought he was going to leave you empty, he surged back in, a heavy, deliberate thrust that bottomed out with a wet, visceral thud.
“I can’t... Min, I can’t,” the words dissolved into a series of broken moans. You were a sobbing, twitching, mess under him, your body no longer your own, entirely at his mercy.
Mingi reached down, his hand clamping around your throat—not enough to choke, but enough to hold you still, his thumb pressing firmly into the hinge of your jaw to force your mouth open.
“You’re clenching around me so tight,” he groaned, his forehead thumping against yours. “It’s like your body is trying to trap me inside. Is that what you want? To keep me here until the sun comes up?”
He moved again—a torturous, dragging slide that hit your G-spot with a precision that made your toes curl and your fingers dig into his forearms. Your hips reflexively tried to chase the rhythm he was denying you. Every time you tried to buck upward to meet him, he used his hands to pin you back further, keeping you wide, and exposed.
“Don’t rush me,” he hissed, his teeth grazing your jaw. “You’re going to feel every single second of this.”
He leaned down, his tongue catching a stray tear on your cheek before his mouth hovered over yours.
The slowness was stripping your nerves bare. Every time he dragged himself out, you felt a hollow, frantic grief, and every time he pushed back in with that heavy, unhurried deliberation, your vision swam with a desperate need. You were reaching for a peak that he was moving further away with every torturous rotation of his hips.
“Please... please,” your fingers were clawing at his biceps, trying to pull him down, trying to force a friction that would finally break you. “Not like this. Don’t... don’t be slow. I can’t take it.”
“You want me to stop being gentle?” he gripped your hair, tilting your head back until your throat was exposed and your eyes were locked on his. “You want me to treat you like the slut you are? To drive you into the bed until you can’t remember your own name?”
“Yes!” the word was a shattered, frantic plea.
“Damn right.”
He didn’t ease into it. He surged forward with a sudden, violent velocity that knocked the air out of your lungs in a sharp ungh. He began to drive into you with a rhythmic, bruising ferocity, his hips hitting yours with a sound like a physical assault. He leaned down, his chest crushing yours, his mouth on yours in a kiss that tasted of salt, desperation, and total victory. He grabbed your wrists, pinning them beside your head, his fingers interlacing with yours in a grip that felt like a permanent brand. Every thrust was deeper than the last, his hips slamming against yours with a wet, heavy sound that filled the room. He was watching you—watching the way your lips parted, the way your eyes rolled back, the way you were completely, utterly coming apart under him. He liked the mess. He liked that he was the one who had reduced you to a whimpering, begging slut.
“You’re so fucking perfect like this,” he muttered against your lips, his breathing coming in jagged, animalistic bursts. “Broken. Messy. Mine.”
He shifted his grip, one hand leaving your wrist to slide down, his thumb finding your hyper-sensitive clit again, grinding into it even as he hammered into you. The dual assault was too much. You felt the scream building in your throat, your entire body coiling into a tight wire.
“I’m—I’m going to—Fuuuck—”
“Go then,” he roared, his own pace reaching a blurring, frantic speed. “I want to feel every bit of it.”
As you shattered, your walls clamping around him in a violent rhythm, Mingi let out a low moan. He drove into you one last time, his entire body locking as he flooded you again, his forehead thumping against yours.
Mingi collapsed on top of you, his full weight crushing you into the bed, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he sobbed for air. He was shaking—truly shaking—the adrenaline finally leaving his system and leaving him hollowed out and spent.
The room fell into a heavy, ringing silence, broken only by the wet, rhythmic hitch of your combined breathing. Mingi didn’t pull away; he stayed buried deep, his forehead pressed against yours, his skin slick and fused to yours by a layer of salt and heat.
The bedroom felt different now—thicker, charged with the heaviness of the storm that had finally spent itself. The ‘best friend’ facade hadn’t just been cracked; it had been ground into the floorboards along with the buttons of his shirt.
Slowly, Mingi let out a long, shuddering breath that fanned across your neck. He pulled back just an inch, his eyes hooded and dark, searching your face in the dim silver light. He looked at the smear of himself on your face, the bruises blooming on your neck, and the way your lips were swollen and parted as you struggled for air.
He didn’t look sorry. He looked settled.
“Don’t even think about it,” he whispered, his voice still a fractured rasp. His hand moved from the pillow to your hair, his fingers gently—finally gently—tucking a damp strand behind your ear. “Don’t think about the morning. Don’t think about how you’re going to try to take this back tomorrow over coffee. It’s done.”
You let out a small, tired whimper, your fingers curling weakly into the muscles of his forearms. Your body felt like it had been hollowed out, replaced by a warm, heavy liquid. “I can’t take it back, Min. I don’t think I can even walk.”
A ghost of a smirk pulled at one corner of his mouth—the first glimpse of the Mingi you knew. “Good. You’re staying right here.”
As Mingi finally began to withdraw, the sensation was a slow, heavy drag that felt like he was peeling himself away from your very soul. The air in the room hit your raw skin, but the cold didn’t last long. Without the solid plug of him holding it back, the sheer, excessive volume of what he’d left inside you began to yield to gravity.
You felt a thick, warm rush—a heavy, creamy spill that leaked from your core and pooled in the dip of your thighs. It was a visceral, sliding heat, a pearly mess of his release mixed with your own frantic fluid, painting a stark, white map against the dark sheets.
Mingi stayed close, his knees still bracketed around you as he watched the evidence of his reclamation coat your skin. He reached down, his large hand following the path of the spill, his fingers dragging through the cream and smearing it across your hip in a slow circle. He wanted to see it; he wanted to see exactly how much of himself he had forced you to carry.
“I told you,” he rasped, his voice dropping into a dark, satisfied hum as he watched the slow drip hit the mattress. “I told you I was going to fill you up. I told you I’d make sure you felt me for the next days.” He didn’t reach for a tissue. He didn’t try to clean you. Instead, he leaned down and licked a stray drop from your inner thigh, his tongue rough and hot, before looking back up at you with a predatory glint still simmering in his eyes. “That's exactly where it belongs,” he whispered. “Right inside you. Marking you so that every time you take a step tomorrow, you feel me sliding out of you and remember exactly what happened.”
The adrenaline was finally receding, leaving behind a heavy, aching lethargy. Mingi pulled you flush against his side, his skin still damp and radiator-hot against yours.
He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at you. The harsh, territorial side of him had softened, though his eyes still held a dazed, singular focus. He reached out, his thumb tracing the swollen line of your lower lip before he leaned down for a kiss. It wasn’t like the others. There was no bruising pressure, no desperation—just a slow, deep, and devastatingly passionate press of his mouth against yours. It tasted of salt and total surrender.
When he pulled back, his forehead lingered against yours, his voice a low, gravelly vibration. “I love you,” he whispered.
The words hit you harder than any of the impacts against the door. You froze, your heart skipping a beat before hammering against your ribs. Your eyes were wide, searching the sharp, damp angles of his face for a smirk, a sneer, or the dark, demeaning glint he’d worn all night. You were looking for the punchline—the part where he told you that you were just a convenient place to dump three months of frustration. But his gaze was steady.
“What?” you breathed, your voice a fractured wreck. “What are you talking about? Min… I thought…” You swallowed hard, a sudden, stinging heat rising behind your eyes. “I thought I was just… a good fuck. I thought this was you finally getting me out of your system so you could stop hating me.”
Mingi flinched, his expression crumbling into genuine, hurt surprise. He let out a dry, huffed laugh, his hand sliding from your jaw to tangle deeply in your hair. “A good fuck?” he repeated, his voice thick with disbelief. “You think I’d turn into a fucking animal like that for just anyone? You think I’ve been sitting across from you for three months, dying a little bit, because I wanted a fuck?” He shook his head, his eyes burning with a raw honesty that made your throat tight. “I’ve loved you since we were eighteen, you idiot,” he rasped, his thumb brushing a fresh tear from your cheek. “Every thing I did, every time I stayed over to watch movies, every time I walked you home... it was because I couldn’t stand being away from you. Tonight wasn’t just about sex. It was because I was terrified I was actually losing you.”
The air left your lungs in a long, shaky sob. All the walls you’d kept up, the “friendship” you’d tried to protect while your own heart was breaking, finally shattered for good. You surged upward, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.
“I love you too,” you choked out, your voice muffled by his skin. “I’ve loved you forever, Min. I just thought... I thought you only saw me as one of the guys. I thought tonight was just... yet another mistake you’d regret in the morning.”
Mingi let out a long, shuddering breath, his arms tightening around you until you were practically a part of him. He rolled onto his back, pulling you on top of him so your heart was beating directly against his. “Never a mistake,” he promised, his voice dipping into that protective, low hum. “And you’re never going back to being ‘just a friend.’ You’re mine now. I’m not letting you go again.”
He began to stroke your back, his large hand moving in slow, rhythmic circles that chased away the lingering tremors in your muscles. He leaned up, pressing a lingering, tender kiss to your forehead, then to the tip of your nose, before hovering over your lips. “I love you, you beautiful, stubborn girl. But don’t think for a second that means I’m going to be any less greedy with you.”
Mingi let out a long, heavy sigh—the kind that sounded like a man who had finally laid down a hundred-pound weight he’d been carrying for years. He looked around the room, his eyes landing on the wreckage of your dress near the door and the literal state of his floor, and he let out a dry, breathy chuckle.
“Well,” he rasped, his voice still a bit wrecked. “I’m definitely going to need to hire a professional cleaning crew. And you’re definitely getting a bill for my dignity.”
You let out a weak, tired laugh, burying your face back into the crook of his neck. “Your dignity? You’re the one who turned into a feral animal because I wore a dress with a slit, Song Mingi.”
“A slit that went to your armpit,” he corrected, his hand sliding down to give your hip a playful, much gentler squeeze. “And don't act like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing. You’ve been a brat for years, Y/N. I was just finally fulfilling my civic duty to shut you up.”
“My legs are actually jelly,” you whispered, resting your forehead against his. “I hope you’re prepared to carry me everywhere for the next business week.”
“A business week? Please. With the way you were begging? You’re lucky if I let you walk by next Christmas,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with that familiar, mischievous glint you’d loved since you were teenagers. “And for the record, you were always a terrible ‘just a friend.’ You’re much better as a ‘terrifyingly loud girlfriend.’”
“I wasn’t that loud,” you defended, though your face flushed a deep crimson.
“The neighbours three floors down would disagree, but sure,” he kissed your forehead with a gentleness that felt like a secret, followed by a soft, lingering kiss to your nose. “We need to shower. But if you think I’m washing your hair without making fun of your taste in men—specifically that suit-wearing prick—you’ve got another thing coming.”
You rolled your eyes, “I love you, you idiot.”
The corner of his mouth twitched into a real, soft smile—the one he only ever saved for you. “I love you too, baby. Now let’s get in the shower before I decide I’m not actually as tired as I thought I was.”
[yunho x fem!reader] yunho reminding you who the fuck you belong to | heed the warnings i’m not your mother: smut minors dni 18+, pwp, mean dom!yunho/hard dom!yunho, you call him sir, ownership, submission, desperation, p in v, oral m!receiving, facefucking, lots of heavy degradation, fingering, thigh fucking, orgasm denial/edging, restraining with a belt, pussy fucking (not inside☝🏻), lots of crying, cum eating, jealous yunho, he's not nice like at all. not even a little. another round to pregame aftercare. creampie. as always, let me know if i missed anything! wc 10.7k
⊹ ࣪ ˖ for my angel face lover girl @03jyh23, once the brainworms took over i really could not stop writing this. thank you for requesting, i hope i did mean dom jealous yun justice, i love playing with him. i feel like i had empty headed in my mind the entire time i wrote this, if you're reading this, please for the love of god read empty headed. my favorite joongie fic in the world, mon is so unbelievably talented & so inspiring, if you like even one sentence from this fic i promise you will devour mon’s. thats all, enjoy xoxo
You didn’t mean to piss him off.
Not really.
But there’s something invigorating about watching his jaw tighten, a clench in the hinge that shows the structure of his face. The way his brows flatten, dark and heavy over his big, brown eyes, turning them three shades darker, more charcoal than chocolate. A hand through his styled hair, veiny fingers lost in black locks, mussing it to the point where the gel is rendered useless. Yunho angry was a sight to behold, exciting, magical; it brings out a completely different side of him, one you feared as much as you revered.
Across the room in his dark suit, tailored to his perfect body, his shoulders sat squared, in perfect posture. Your dress matched, a long, navy gown, if anyone paid attention, they’d know you belong to him. You know you belong to him, Yunho knows you belong to him, Yeosang knows you belong to him, but somehow you think the message has been lost along the way.
Deep red hair sitting perfectly over his cheekbones, hiding the birthmark beneath his eye you’ve seen a thousand times, Yeosang does look good. He always looks good, biceps stretching the sleeves of every shirt, filling out every pair of pants he owns like they were made for him, it doesn’t help that he has the most contagious laugh you’ve ever heard. A silly joke, a stupid one that left him snorting, made the laughter creep up from your chest and force its way out of your lips until you were folding forward, a hand clutching your stomach.
He’s funny without even trying to be and you fall victim to it every time, every hangout, whenever you and Yeosang are in the same room. Yunho notices, of course he does, a sixth sense embedded in his veins that he says is named after you. Usually his jealousy with Yeosang is under wraps, he can see your friendship for what it is– but tonight of all nights, at the company gala where Yunho is receiving an award for his efforts, tonight is about him. And here you are, across the room, chopping it up with Yeosang instead of standing by his side so he can introduce you to everyone in the room.
You can feel his stare, harsh eyes like blades cutting into your skin, it makes your spine straighten, your heels click together. Even without words you can feel his command, summoning you to him like there was a part of him inside your head, you excuse yourself from the circle of people you were conversing with and walk back to your boyfriend, a low rumble in your belly because you know exactly what’s awaiting you.
Leaning over the tall, circular table dressed in a black tablecloth long enough that it touches the floor, one of Yunho’s knees is bent into it, his arms crossed over the surface. He watches you, eyes following your every step, aware of each person you pass like every one of them could be a threat. You keep your face innocent, your eyes big and doe-like, your hands politely holding your clutch in front of your body, a small smile on your face as you approach him at the table, nothing else on it besides two full glasses of prosecco.
“Wipe that look off your face,” he says as soon as you can hear it, his voice low and stern, “damage is already done.”
Excitement blooms in your chest, you swallow down your smile. “What do you mean?”
He steps back from the table, picking up the flute of prosecco, holding it close to his chest. He shifts his view upward, examining the crowd, “You know exactly what I mean, stop pretending, you look stupid.”
You can’t fight the smile this time, throwing an elbow over the surface of the table with your clutch, leaning on it as you pick up the glass of prosecco instead. He turns to you, eyes slimming, “You’ve had enough.”
Your brows furrow, head tilting, “I’m not even tipsy–”
“I said you’ve had enough.”
Slowly, you set the glass back on the table, his tone was clean cut, no room for disobedience. You frown, ankles crossing beneath your gown, “I was just talking, Yunho.”
“Talking,” he repeats, a ghost of a smile clawing at his lips, “laughing, leaning into him like I don’t fucking own you.”
Your breath catches in your throat as the word leaves his lips, it always ignites something deep in your gut, turns your mind to fuzz. Ownership, being his, so deeply his you don’t need to think if you don’t want to, Yunho can see the warmth spreading through your body like your skin was transparent.
He takes a step toward you, leaning down, breath ghosting the shell of your ear, “You belong to me. Never fucking forget it.”
You swallow, heart picking up speed in your chest, your voice is a little shakier than you want it to be as you whisper, “I could never forget that.”
Standing up tall again, he smiles like he remembered there’s other people in the room, “Good.” Turning his head to examine the crowd again, coworkers, staff, people who have all praised him tonight, congratulated him on his hard work. You drink in his figure, long legs that stretched on forever clad in navy, his suit jacket unbuttoned, showing the white button-up beneath. The tie that laid in the center, snug beneath his collar, just from a few words your mind escaped to the gutter, brain drifting to the things he could do with it.
“Let’s go,” he says simply, turning toward you again.
“Already?” You look around, standing straight, dessert hadn’t even been served yet. “I don’t think it’s appropriate–”
“I don’t give a fuck about what’s appropriate.” You’re lucky there’s no one around you to hear the sharp words leaving his lips, “I don’t care about this, and clearly neither do you if you’d rather go talk to Yeosang.”
“Yun–”
“Come,” the word is firm, a wall splitting your defense. He grabs your clutch from the table, tucking it beneath his armpit, placing his glass of prosecco delicately on the table, “We’ll make our goodbyes, I’ll text the driver.”
He shoots a quick text before laying a heavy hand on the small of your back, bringing you on his round of goodbyes where you smiled politely, shook hands, gave small hugs to every person you made eye contact with tonight– except Yeosang. You didn’t even meet his eye, standing off to the side while Yunho gave him a tight hug, a wide grin on his face like he wasn’t planning on tearing you apart the moment you stepped foot in your apartment.
You didn’t talk on the drive home, in the backseat of a black car you didn’t know the name of, your driver nodding his head along to what was playing on the radio. A small, muted hum, it stood as background noise for your raging thoughts, adrenaline ripping your tummy to shreds as you wonder about what comes next. It’s rare for Yunho to react like this, he’s generally a grounded, secure man, he knows you’d never leave him, he knows you’d never cheat. He’s asked you the same rhetorical question a thousand times: Who could possibly be better than him?
No one. That person doesn’t exist. You love him too much to ever even consider someone else, he was too engraved in your being, the blood in your body circulated for him, your heart beats to the rhythm of his name. Yunho was everything, everywhere, he was half of your body, your soul.
But he doesn’t play nice when it comes to his toys.
He punched in the code to your apartment with steady hands, opening the front door softly, holding his arm out for you to walk inside first. Hanging your coat on the rack, there’s a pit in your stomach, a blooming warmth of fear and adrenaline beneath your skin. You begin, “Yunho, we shouldn’t have left, I was just talking–”
He’s at your back, hands on your hips, head standing tall above yours, “You think I give a fuck about what you were doing?” His voice is rough, gravelly, tone bleeding dominance, it makes your toes curl in your heels, back straightening against his presence. “I don’t care if you were giving him the fucking heimlich, you’re mine. Do you understand what that means?”
Your breath catches, fingers tingling at your sides, eyes wide as you stare at the pale yellow wall in front of you, art covering the walls. The paintings seemed to stare back, snickering at your disobedience, saying you reap what you sow.
“Yes,” you whisper, accompanied by one singular nod.
“Yes what?”
You fight the sound that claws at your throat, “Yes, sir.”
“This body is mine,” his hands trail from your hips up to your waist, squeezing the skin beneath your gown before traveling up to your chest, holding his palms there to prove a point. “It belongs to me. Your pleasure, your pain, your actions, your mistakes, they’re all mine.”
His palms leave your chest to unzip the gown at your back, you can feel the chill of metal all the way down to the base of your spine. Pooling around your feet, you don’t move, back straight, chin held high, heels clicking together, presenting yourself for him how he taught you. Every bone in your body begged you to turn around and kiss him, you ached to touch him, to wrap your arms around him, to feel him inside you, curved and pulsing and hitting every spot that made you scream. When he steps around you, fear simmers, you come to terms with the fact that none of which is on the itinerary for tonight.
Shoulders squared, jaw locked, eyes dark, brooding. He watches you, still fully clothed, shoes kicked off, his suit remains. His eyes drink in your naked figure, already well aware of the lack of anything beneath your form fitting gown, watching how your upper body expands with each breath, the tremble in your legs, the glint of nerves in your eyes, how you’re already struggling to keep still under his heavy stare. He watches like he’s mapping out a plan, debating what he’ll do to you, how loud he should make you beg, deciding what he’s in the mood for.
He always wants obedience. Expects it. You’ve learned to not expect anything.
“What do you think you deserve tonight?”
The question sets your body aflame. Meeting his eyes, you swallow, “I don’t deserve anything, sir.”
He nods slowly, arms crossing over his chest, he hums. “Do you think you deserve my cock inside you?”
He watches how your spine bends, the slightest movement. It tells him the words out of your mouth are a bold-faced lie, “No, sir.”
“Why not?”
You can feel the heat in the tips of your ears, embarrassment, guilt, it curls into the flame of arousal flickering brighter in your gut with every second he keeps his eyes on you. “Because,” you pause. His brows raise, waiting. Your voice cracks, “B-because I was, um– talking. To Yeosang.”
“Why are you stuttering?” He tilts his head a fraction of a degree. “You know what you did. Say it with your chest.”
“I was laughing,” you continue, feeling the sweat forming at your brow, the light of the foyer too warm, too bright. You swallow, “I was laughing with him when I should have been with you.”
He hums again, debating. “Do you think you deserve to cum at all?”
“Only if you think I deserve it, sir,” there’s a shakiness to your voice, one he knows all too well, it means please.
He looks you up and down once. “Bedroom,” is the only thing he responds, a sharp word that sends your heeled feet clicking over hardwood to the room at the back of your apartment. The lights are dim, soft, misleading; the way it lays over your duvet, your furniture, a streak creeping into the bathroom, it breeds comfort. You’re scared you won’t get any tonight.
“Kneel beside the bed, face it.”
You wince when your knees splinter the hardwood beneath you. Back straight, hands flat on your thighs, you sit on your calves, ass just meeting the heel of your stilettos. He doesn’t smile, he doesn’t praise you for following directions, following order, he watches.
One second, two, five, ten. Sitting on your shared bed, suit jacket discarded, knees spread, heels of his feet edged on the base. He pushes his sleeves up to his elbows before they meet his knees as he leans over his thighs, giving you a full view of his size above you. A display, one that makes you shiver every fucking time.
“You disappointed me tonight,” his voice is low but his tone is calm and it’s worse than loud, edged, spit-soaked anger. “You know how to behave, you know better. Correct?”
“Yes, sir,” you nod once.
“Do you have anything to say about your behavior tonight?”
“I’m sorry,” you mumble. His brow arches. Louder, you repeat, “I’m sorry for my behavior tonight, sir.”
He stares, waiting, watching. One second, two, five, ten.
“Save the apologies,” he stands, fingers working at the prongs of the black leather belt, so close to your face you almost flinch at his movement. “You’ll make it up to me properly.”
You nod, words breathy, “Yes, sir.”
With one step he’s behind you, you can feel him squat down just from the heat of him, you hear the metal of the belt buckle dragging against the hardwood floor, it makes your thighs clench together. His palms are warm when he wraps his long fingers around your arms, just above your elbows, he pulls them behind your back. Silently he wraps the belt around your wrists, tying it off securely, tight enough for you to feel the restriction but not enough to cut circulation.
With another step he’s in front of you, veiny hands tugging at his tie, loosening it before throwing it, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. He works the fastening of his slacks open, fingers tugging down his zipper, with thumbs in the waistband of his briefs, he pulls them both down over his hips until they reach mid-thigh. Your eyes flicker upward to meet his gaze, holding a question in your stare– he’s not even hard yet.
“Why are you looking at me?” His brows raise, “Do you not know what to do with a cock in your face?”
Your cheeks burn as you lift up, the tips of your toes meeting the hardwood, adjusting your height to meet his flaccid cock, there’s no hesitation as you bring your head forward, tongue poking out to catch the tip of him in your mouth. You hear the change in his breathing, a small, sudden intake of air, if it wasn’t so quiet in your bedroom you’re sure it would’ve gone over your head.
The breath is enough praise to take him into your mouth with confidence, to massage your tongue slowly against the underside of him, you feel him expand; length doubling in size, the width of him stretching your lips, the weight heavy on your tongue. Slightly salty, the taste of skin, bland and neutral, he mutters a curse when you take him deeper, but you don’t struggle bobbing your head, working up a rhythm, your movement quickening with each run of your tongue over his ridged tip.
“You can do better than that,” his tone is condescending, it makes your stomach drop. His hips buck into your mouth, cock reaching the back of your throat, making you gag, an ugly noise; his small hum of pleasure is worth a thousand words of praise.
“Is this what I have to do? Fuck your throat so you take me properly?”
Your eyes fill with salty tears as his cock fills your throat, you take him deeper, faster, nose meeting the tuft of hair at his base, inhaling, moaning, gurgling around him with each bob of your head. He groans, a hand coming up to meet your styled hair, ruining it as soon as his fingers tighten in your scalp. “Don’t cry, it’s pathetic, suck my cock like you mean it. Or do you want me to think you’d rather have your mouth on Yeosang?”
Your brows knit together and you hope it’s enough, that he sees the answer you can’t communicate. He hisses when you swallow around him, “He couldn’t fuckin’ handle you, couldn’t put you in your place, he wouldn’t know what to do with you. Do you understand? That you’re something that needs handling?”
You can’t answer– he knows you can’t answer, he isn’t expecting one, he knows your response. He flashes his teeth in a nasty grin when your tears spill, hot on your cheeks, streaking your makeup. “You need to be owned, need to be used, tied up with nothing left to do but take.”
The noise you make gets muffled by his cock, he hears it, his hips roll deeper into your throat, fingers gripping tighter at your scalp.
“You love it, don’t you? When I use your mouth? Turn you into a toy?” You whine around his cock, drool gathering at the sides of your mouth, you can hear the squelch of spit. “I know you do, bet your thighs are stickin’ together already. Should I fuck them instead? Cum all over your legs while your little pussy begs me for attention? Begs me just to look at her?”
Your eyelids flutter, eyes rolling back behind them, your thighs squeeze, wrists tugging at the leather binding them. His chuckle is dark, patronizing, when he speaks the words come out tighter, “Look at you, already begging for it when you can’t even talk. Is this what you wanted? Is that why I had to watch you flirt with my fuckin’ coworker? You needed a reminder that this is all you’re worth?”
Tears flow, makeup stinging your eyes, blurring your vision, his cock so heavy, so deep in your throat, each gag around him breeds more. His other hand meets your hair, rocking your head at the same pace of his hips bucking into your mouth, you breathe through your nose, your nails cut into your palms.
“Fuck,” it’s sharp, under his breath. “There you go, make me fuckin’ cum, ‘s all this mouth is good for.”
Drool spills from the corners of your mouth, dripping onto your thighs that start to shake, knees burning where they dig into the hardwood. You’re clenching around nothing with every other thrust, wishing he was fucking into your pussy with the brutal pace he’s using on your mouth.
“Don’t you dare waste a single drop,” his voice is ragged like his breath, the only proof he was enjoying this. His palms meet your cheeks, forcing your eyes open so he can ask, “Do you hear me?”
Your eyelids flutter, ignoring the sting of tears your gaze darts upward to see his face, veiny forearms in your peripherals. Jaw slacked, cheeks splotched with pink, eyes so dark they’re burnt, pleasure etched in each line of his perfect face. His button-up splits at the hem, showing you the pocket of skin between, the veins that swim from his hipbones up to where they disappear behind the v of fabric swollen, prominent.
“Gonna ruin this throat,” he uses pressure on your flaming cheeks, holding your head still as he fucks into your mouth faster, harder, ignoring how you choke around him. “Mine to do as I fuckin’ please.”
Your face is covered by saliva, tears and melted makeup, bubbles of spit popping before they sink down your jaw, down your neck, between your breasts. The sounds you make around his cock are brutal; loud, wet, unbecoming– they push him over the edge.
He cums with a strangled noise like it was caught in his throat, his chin dropping to his chest, his eyes squeezed shut. Ropes of warmth shoot straight down your throat and you’re disappointed you can’t taste the salt, feel the slimy consistency as if it were intentional, like you fucked up so bad he was keeping his cum from you, too. You whimper when he pulls out, sucking in a needed breath, swallowing down the spit in your mouth, feeling the cool air of the bedroom brushing against the streaks of liquid on your body.
You don’t move without direction. You don’t speak without order.
He runs a hand through his hair, chest heaving beneath his shirt, he gives you no praise. He doesn’t even look at you kindly. He gives you a one-over, top lip lifting in distaste, “You’re a fucking mess. On the bed.”
Your legs are wobbly beneath you as you climb onto the white duvet, hands still secured at the base of your spine, you lay on top of them, knees still burning, swollen, uncomfortable. He doesn’t get on the bed with you, he tugs you back down to the edge by your ankles, pushing your legs up until they’re dangling. Hands on your swollen knees, he parts them, ignoring the way you suck in a sharp breath.
“Be quiet,” he’s staring between your legs, “I don’t want to hear a sound out of that mouth. Holes don’t speak.” You clench your jaw to keep it closed, thighs twitching. He continues, “Knew this slutty cunt would be soaked. ‘S all over your thighs, aren’t you embarrassed?”
You meet his eye, lips parted, but you don’t speak. His lips curve at the corner, “No? Proud of how wet you get from being used? Being nothing?”
He’s baiting you, you force your breath into submission, calm despite your heart pounding against your ribs, wild and arrhythmic. You clench around nothing, air catching on the wetness between your legs, coating your thighs, you’re not embarrassed. You could never be, not when his eyes light up, his lips curve, staring at you like he wants to do nothing less than devour you when you’re spread out for him like this.
You’re built for him, by him, and he knows it.
Warm palms sear your thighs, one sinking down your calf, fingers ghosting over one of your heeled feet. He pushes it forward, towards your chest, staring at the silver stiletto, finger following the shape of the arch, touching the pointed heel. Not even looking at you, keeping his eyes on your pedicure, he mutters, “These stay on.”
Your bottom lip quivers, trembles, fingers clawing at the mattress behind your back. His eyes find yours, “Being so obedient now, is this what happens when you’re guilty? When you know you fucked up? I get a sweet girl for once?”
Your entire body reacts to his words, a full-blown shiver that racks through you like a wave. His voice is a spell, his words are tantalizing, laced with sweetness, it throws your mind for a loop, you almost reply. Your lips open and then close, he grins like he knows he’s on the right track.
His fingers wrap around your ankle, placing it over his shoulder, his other hand leaving your thigh to paint a finger through your folds. Your lips tighten, teeth clamping down, brows furrowing at the stimulation, noise climbing up your throat with claws bared. His touch leaves as quickly as he gives it, he brings his finger up past his lips, moaning at the taste, loud and obnoxious, “It’s too bad you don’t deserve my mouth, wanna eat her so bad. I think Yeosang would like the taste too, don’t you?”
Your jaw clenches, he stores the reaction. Bringing his hand back down to your center, he uses two fingers to spread your folds, watching as you clench around nothing, as your body begs for what your mouth isn’t allowed to say. He hums, leaning down, gathering spit in his mouth before shooting it straight onto your mound, your body jumps in response. With his thumb at your clit, he adds the smallest pressure to spread the slick, your lips part, a quiet gasp sneaking through.
His eyes flicker upward, “Behave.” He rubs slow circles, barely any pressure, following your hips that buck into his hand, “Stop moving. Take it.”
Your face contorts, abdomen flexing, spine bending, teeth clamped down over your bottom lip. You try to keep your hips flush to the bed, you fail. His hand leaves your calf over his shoulder, falling to your belly, pushing down to keep you flat, “Right after I said you were being obedient, too. Shame.”
His thumb leaves your clit to push two fingers inside and your elbows bend, hands sliding up your spine, pulling at the belt keeping you restrained. A desperate moan pushes past, hips jerking against his hand pinning you down, his name falls off your lips right after, “Yunho! Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Lips pursed, his head shakes slowly, disappointed. Your body burns, hot with embarrassment, blood carbonated, sizzling with fear, your eyes stay blown wide, watching him calculate what comes next. He doesn’t react further, instead his fingers work you open, pads of his fingertips massaging against the spongy spot inside you, your breathing becomes verbal. Shallow, chest moving rapidly, wrists fighting against the restraint, it feels too good not to move. Not to react.
He knows your weak points, knows your strengths; he uses them both to his advantage.
“Do you think I’m doing this for your pleasure?” He doesn’t look up, voice steady, he watches how your slick gushes around his digits instead, how your core takes his fingers so easily, greedily. “I should shove my cock inside you without prep, that’s what you deserve for being a whore. But I decided to be kind, and this is how you repay me? By being greedy?”
You keep your lips glued together until his eyes meet yours, “Speak.”
“I’m sorry!” Your voice is pitched, face scrunched together, he can hear the shame in your voice, feel how your body disagrees. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t deserve it, I- I, please just–”
“Shut up,” he cuts you off, “Forgot how fucking irritating it is to hear you whine.”
You feel the pressure in your face again, swimming up your sinuses, filling your waterline with salty heat. He doesn’t notice until your breathing breaks, tears already spilled, pleasure wound tight in the pit of your belly, below his palm that sits heavy and harsh.
“You’re crying again?” He sounds bored, annoyed. “You’re useless, you know that? Can’t follow simple fuckin’ directions.”
He sighs before he slips his fingers out, two hands finding the plush of your ass beneath your lifted thighs, pushing you up the bed.
“Maybe you should fuck Yeosang,” he crawls on top of the mattress with you, fingers working his buttons open while you shake your head, tears falling silently, he stares at you with lifted brows like he couldn’t be more uninterested. “You’re nearing worthless at this point.”
He throws the button-up off the bed, pulling his white tank over his head, his slacks and briefs already gone, discarded before your back hit the mattress. Face still reading uninterested, he grabs both of your legs by your ankles, throwing them over his shoulders as he spreads his knees, lowering himself until his eyes lock on your glistening folds.
“You don’t deserve my cock,” he says it like it’s something you already know. A mewl stirs in your throat, you swallow it down as he wraps his fingers around the base, pushing it through your folds. “So fuckin’ wet, she’s begging for it. You think you deserve it?”
He looks up at you just to see you shake your head no, his eyes follow the way your tear-streaked cheeks shine in the dim light.
Circling his tip over your clit, he asks again, “Not even the tip?”
You release a shaky breath, sniffing through your clogged sinuses, every bone in your body screaming yes, you’d beg for it, on all fours, you’d do anything for it. But that’s not what he wants to hear, so you shake your head once more.
“Alright,” he says it passively and it makes your brows knit together. Like if you said yes, he’d do it.
Your lips part, face warped into confusion, voice coated in a cry, “W-wait.”
“No,” he moves one of your ankles to his other shoulder, crossing them, “You made your bed.”
“Yunho–”
His eyes flicker upward, warning enough, your lips smack together to silence yourself. The tip of his cock prods at the seam of your thighs, so thick and hot and wet it makes you squirm, ankles locking over his shoulder. He smacks the side of your thigh once, “Clench ‘em for me. Be a good sleeve.”
Your breath is shaky as you tighten your thighs, body rigid, wrists fighting their restraints. Tears spill hotter, heavier when he groans out in relief, cock passing between your thighs, so close to your aching cunt you can feel your composure getting pushed to its limit. One hand holds your ankles over his shoulder, the other squeezes one of your thighs, you watch how his abdomen flexes with each roll of his hips, how his throat bobs when his head falls back in pleasure.
“Feels good,” his voice is gravelly, laced with arousal, his hips moving slow enough to draw out his own pleasure. You try to keep yourself tight, composed, enjoyable for him, but your patience is a thin band, one running taut too quickly. He picks up the pace, his hips smacking against your sensitive legs, they start to shake where they lay hooked over his shoulder.
“Stay still,” he gruffs out, “Stop shaking.”
A defeated cry escapes through your parted lips, mumbling a wilted, pathetic, “Please.”
He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, doesn’t address that you’ve spoken. You’re drifting as his grip turns tighter, fingers on your ankles, palm on your thigh, tight enough to bruise; his hips pick up speed, filling the room with the sound of skin smacking skin. You’re clenching around nothing again, so strung out and sensitive that the ripple of his cock between your thighs is close enough to friction. You can feel your pulsing clit, muscles tightening, heart picking up speed as it starts to feel somewhat pleasurable. Better than nothing, not nearly enough to get you off.
He does a double take when he notices your brows knitted up, lips parted, breath layered. His laugh is punched, taunting, “You’re getting off on this?” A whimper escapes. “I thought I told you to keep your mouth shut. This is a punishment, not a fucking position.”
You seal your lips together again, your lashes becoming a waterfall, his hand leaves your thigh just to land against your skin heavier, harder, the sound striking through the room, nearly blending in with the sound of his hips against your thighs.
“I’d be inside you if you listened. If you didn’t speak, if you didn’t flirt with my friend in front of my goddamn face,” his voice is as rough as his movements, he watches where his cock disappears, grinds his teeth when your thighs clench. “Can’t believe this is getting you off. Nothing but a cockhungry whore, doesn’t matter where I fuckin’ put it, does it?”
Your thighs clench again and he cracks ever so slightly, a splinter in his demeanor. The sound he lets out is pitched, something of a moan, small and wanting as he chases his release, “Fuck, almost as good as your pussy. Maybe I don’t need to use her at all anymore, maybe I’ll tape her shut.”
Another sob falls past your lips, head tilting to the side, “No.”
“No?” His eyes meet yours, “No?”
“I need you–”
“You’re mine,” his voice is harsher now, like you’ve finally hit a nerve. He pulls out, throwing your legs to the side, one arm scooping under you to flip you onto your stomach. Pulling you upright, on all fours, knees together, your face is buried in the bed, another sob cracking through your shaking body. “I’ll do whatever I want, this body is mine, you belong to me. You’re my property, when are you going to get that through your thick fucking skull?”
When his cock pushes past the seam of your thighs again, legs on either side of yours, it's lower. Farther away from your slippery cunt, skin still lubed up with how much you’ve spilled, his voice is edged as he lands a harsh smack on your ass, biting, “Squeeze your fuckin’ thighs, you can’t afford to disappoint me again.”
He holds his hands tight on your hips, steadying you, groaning low and long when he picks up the pace tenfold, harsher than the rhythm he was giving you before. He plants a foot on the bed, choking out a moan, “Gonna cum all over these thighs, this ass, then I’m gonna make you eat it.”
You moan, it’s a soft noise, too soft for how unforgiving he was at your backside. Your mind is cloudy, in your head, his degrading words are close enough to praise, your body responds. He lands another heavy smack to your ass, sending you deeper into the plush of the mattress, into the fuzz, you moan.
He sounds almost surprised when he says, “That’s not a fucking reward, you’re disgusting.”
Your wrists pull at the belt, thighs clenching, another shameless moan pushing past your lips. His hips stutter, fingertips tightening at your hips, “Fuck, nasty fuckin’ thing.”
He slips from between your thighs, leaving them vibrating and hot. You can hear how fast his fist moves over his length, slick and wet, lewd, his groan is a stutter as he cums, thick ropes of white landing over your ass, your thighs, warm, heavy, you can’t help but moan at the feeling. Being marked, owned, being his, however he wants you, however he’ll have you.
You hear him panting, tight breaths pushed from his lips, you know he’s staring, watching it drip, admiring the mess he made like it was art. With one hand still on your hip, he uses the other to wipe his painting off your skin, gathering it on his fingers, a glob of wet sticky warmth, your mouth waters knowing he’s about to feed it to you.
Your thighs shake as he knocks your knees apart for stability, reaching one arm forward to wrap under your belly, pulling you upward. You whimper at the force but your body follows without hands to help you.
“Here,” he sounds like he’s giving you a gift as your back hits his chest. He moves your hair out of your face, your jaw already pried open, he stuffs his cum-coated fingers past your lips and your eyes roll back. Salty, thick, nasty, you moan at how fucking dirty it feels, abdomen flexing because he’s finally giving you something. Mouth closing, tongue sucking his fingers clean, your thighs squeeze.
“Good girl,” he whispers, “Eat it all, lick my fingers clean.” You moan again, eyes opening, low-lidded as you stare at him from under your brows, swallowing. His face scrunches, lips parting, “Fuck.”
He watches as your spit-stained mouth opens when he presses down on your tongue, no evidence of his release leftover. His fingers move slowly, spreading inside your mouth like he wanted to feel the texture of your tongue, they drag down until your bottom lip folds over, your own spit hitting your chin.
“So pliant,” he whispers, watching, analyzing, “You’ll let me do anything right now, won’t you?”
You whimper, so soft and light you barely register it came from you. His other hand wraps around your front, two fingers dipping between your legs, adding pressure to your clit. You fold, or try to, his other arm wraps around your front, forearm between your breasts, fingers landing steady at the base of your throat, holding you flush to him.
“Still.” Despite the order being direct, his voice is calm, sweet almost, eyes dancing over your features, watching how your face contorts in pleasure. He keeps his pace slow, circling his fingers lightly, “Cum, just like this.”
Your instinct tells you not to trust his kindness, pressure building steadily at the base of your belly, but he works you so easily, even with small circles and light pressure, your body responds like a live wire, as if two light fingers were a vibrator on its highest setting. Your moans mix with tiny gasps, body fidgeting at the pleasure, so sensitive you think you might be running from it.
He cooes, “Come on, baby. I’m letting you cum, might be the only orgasm I let you have tonight. Impress me.”
The need to deliver, obey, appease him is too embedded in you not to listen, even if you know better. You choke on a moan, reaching your peak quicker than you should, sounds climbing in staccato, so close you could fucking taste it– he rips his fingers away just as you approach the edge and you sob, body lurching forward, “No!”
He pulls you back against him, keeping you locked in place. He shushes you, running his hands over your skin, your thighs, your stomach, comforting touches that pull tears from your eyes for the third time. You choke on a cry, crumbling into him, leaning your weight against him.
“So good for me,” he praises, voice candy-sweet. Confusion makes you whimper a mumble of his name.
He waits until your twitching subsides, still brushing his fingers over your skin, soothing the loss until you’ve forgotten it. When your sobs quiet, your breathing evens a little more, he dips his fingers between your thighs again.
“Yunho!” You gasp, bucking against him, “T-too much.”
“Shut up,” he grinds out in your ear, “Take it.”
His fingers work quicker, more pressure, pleasure builds inside you like it never stopped.
“I can’t–” You hiccup, “Please let me cum, sir, p-please let me, I can’t take it–”
The arm that’s wrapped around your front reaches farther up until two fingers push past your lips, sitting heavy on your tongue like stone. You gag around the length of them, knuckles hooked between your teeth while his other hand works quicker, tighter circles on your clit.
“Don’t remember telling you to speak,” you feel his breath on your ear, words chopped, rough, mean. “I remember telling you not to make a fucking sound.”
You’re gurgling around his fingers, more ugly noises, you’re too close to care. Electricity zaps through every limb, legs trembling, hips bucking away from his fingers because you can’t handle the pleasure even if you need it.
You’re babbling over the weight on your tongue, looking up at him with pleading eyes, mumbling begs in-between every gag, he stays focused on his fingers between your legs, pulling you as close as he can to the finish line.
“Y’gonna cum?” His eyes finally meet yours, searching your face for the answer before you can make a sound. You nod, tongue flexing under his fingers, pressure built up so tight and heavy in your body you might blow if he doesn’t let you release. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, so sticky sweet it makes you moan. His voice is sharp against your skin, “Slutty cunts don’t get to cum.”
There’s a millisecond to process his words before he rips his fingers away and that’s how long it takes for your sanity to slip. Sobs, real ones rip from your chest; ugly and booming, he lets your body go, lets you fall forward, flat against the mattress, wrists clawing at the belt, twitching and jerking so fucking shamelessly it makes Yunho smile.
“Am I breaking you, baby?” He crawls on top of you, flipping you over like your dead weight means nothing to him. “Are you finally understanding what it means to be mine?”
The word yes leaves your lips between each sob like a chant, wrists aching beneath leather, your skin was probably inflamed and swollen by now from how much you’ve thrashed against the belt, but you don’t feel it, you don’t care. You need more. You need release.
He pushes your knees up, humming, ignoring your choked sobs like they didn’t exist. “You think Yeosang would want you like this?” He smacks his teeth, “A crying, begging whore? You think he’d touch this slutty, swollen cunt?”
“No! I’m s-sorry,” you hiccup, sounding so distraught it’s almost deranged, “Please.”
“Please what?” His cock lays heavy over your leaking cunt, reaching well over your pubic bone, it makes your trembling worse. “What are you asking me for?”
“I– I–”
“Shut up,” he lowers his grip down to your thighs, the sensitive part on the inside, rutting his hips ever so slightly against your folds. Your head tilts back, letting out a sound of tight pleasure mixed with frustration, his cock on you isn’t enough. You need him inside.
“He wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole,” he continues, wrapping his fingers around the base of his length, adding pressure as his hips rut against you again. “This pussy is used. I’ve ruined it for anyone else, ruined you.”
Your spine bends at his words as he works up a rhythm, pace combined with the added pressure, his cockhead runs over your swollen clit with each thrust, it’s almost enough for you to start climbing again. You moan out in relief, in euphoria, just from having him on you.
His grip tightens on your thigh, “You like that? Being ruined? Like the idea of another man being repulsed by you?”
“Yes,” your face contorts, tears hot in the lines stretching across your skin, breath ragged, hips bucking against him when his rhythm slows.
He curses under his breath as he feels you clench, “Of course you do. This pussy only wants me. Trained to only respond to me.”
“Yes,” a little louder, laced with your climbing pleasure, “Only you.”
“Don’t cum.” You watch his knuckles turn white at the base of his cock. “You haven’t earned it yet.”
“Please!” You cry, so completely at his mercy, body shaking, heels piercing your thighs with each roll of his hips. “Please l-let me, I’ll be good– I’ll listen, I won’t ever look at him again–”
Your fingers curl into the duvet beneath you, pleasure, desperation, the stimulation you’re getting from his cockhead over your clit is enough, it’s fast enough, he said no. He’s focused on your core, how his cock slides against your slick, how it bubbles and swirls around your folds with each thrust of his hips.
“Yunho,” you cry, a little louder, more severe, “Inside, p-please!”
He grits through tight teeth, “Shut the fuck up.”
Your body locks, bones feeling tight, stuck to each muscle like one look from him had turned you to stone. Small, stuttered breaths escape you one after another, rising in pitch, he can feel the stemming pleasure in your gut, he knows it’s building, he can see it on your face.
You’re close, but he’s closer. He takes the chance, fucking into his fist before his cock meets the wet heat your folds, he grunts out a curse, fingers so tight around your thigh it hurts.
“You wanna cum?” His eyes flicker upward and your heart stops dead in your chest.
“Y-Yes– Yes Yunho, please, I’ll do anything–”
“Beg for it.”
Incoherent babbles disguised as pleas, nothing more, a display of desperation that was music to his ears. His hips stutter with each whimper, each whine, the wetness on your cheeks, your body that’s steaming under his touch, it’s so hot his stomach curls with his approaching orgasm.
He chokes on a groan, “You’re so fucking stupid, you don’t learn. Nothing but a dumb, desperate whore.”
You moan and he gasps, thighs twitching as he ruts into his fist like an animal, fucking himself through the orgasm that leaves your cunt, your belly, your thighs covered in cum, his third orgasm. Your knees tie together, a sob so defeated and tired ripping from your gut, your cunt pulses, he can see it. He can’t stop himself from pushing his cock inside.
“Yunho!” You all but whisper, wrecked voice bouncing off the walls, body thrashing against him.
He moans, small but there, it’s suffering and overstimulated. Your wrists burn, halfway up your back, arched so high the leather doesn’t touch you. You can feel your tears pooling in your ears, sobbing in relief and satisfaction and sheer fucking pleasure.
He doesn’t move. He sits there, face tied together in overstimulation, lips caught between his teeth, fingers holding onto your legs for purchase like he might die if he didn’t grab onto you with all his strength.
“Please,” you cry, “Move.”
His jaw clenches, breathing manual, chest rising and falling so heavily you regret the word as soon as it passes through your lips.
“I can’t take it,” you continue through the regret, another mistake. “I’m yours, Yunho, I- I belong to you, I’m your whore, your sleeve–”
“If you were my fucking whore you wouldn’t disobey me,” he grits out, you can feel his thighs shaking, but he adjusts himself to fuck into you properly. “Say it if you need to, but you’ve taken it before and I know you can take it again.”
The word is nowhere near your tongue and he knows it.
“Quit crying, then,” he moves his hands, fingers sinking beneath your back to hold your waist, thumbs sliding where they slipped through his cum on your sides. “I’m tired of hearing it. You’re getting what you want.”
“I want to cum,” you cry out, you’re sure you’ve broken skin at the heel of your palms from how hard your nails have cut into them, you can barely feel the sting. His fingers bruise your back, keeping you still, forcing you to take it as he slips out agonizingly slow, and pushes back inside.
“I don’t think you deserve it,” he sounds unaffected by being inside you, like fucking your thighs really was the same, if not better. Your sobs reflect the thought, feeling so used, full of shame; the flame of desire that dwells within your gut is nowhere close to being smothered, you need more, you need to be full of him, you need to cum around his cock.
“Ple– ase,” you choke on the word, “Y-Yunho, please.”
“Pussy missed me,” he sounds like he’s reminiscing, “Listen, she’s suckin’ me in.”
You hear it then, the squelch, the ungodly sound of his cock sliding into you fluidly. You wallow in it, the humiliating noise, the feeling of him running over that spot with every thrust, filling you up like he’s carved himself space inside you, whittled at your womb until you could take him and him only.
“There you go,” it’s not praise, it’s relief, “Finally giving up. So much better when you’re easy.”
There’s nothing left inside you but sound, desperate and aching, it fills the room on top of the sound of his hipbones slapping against your thighs, the room sounding wet and disgusting. Pressure builds, steady and true, his rhythm daunting, pushing you closer to an edge you don’t know if he’ll let you fall off of.
“This is all you need,” his voice sounds heavier, layered with pressure, “My cock fucking you full. You don’t need to think, don’t need to breathe, you don’t need to be.”
You breathe out a noise, a babble about getting close, he doesn’t hear it. You sink deeper into the haze with each thrust, consumed by pleasure, cheek sliding against the duvet every time his cockhead kisses your cervix.
“You all dumb for me?” You can hear his smile, “Fuck, are you finally broken, baby? Feel nothing but me? Thinking of nothing but me?”
The leather binding your wrists feels miles away. You’re reaching, he knows it.
His hips snap against yours, so brutal and unforgiving, pleasure is an unwrapped gift with how your orgasm hits, catching you off guard. The sound that rips through you is deafening, limbs thrashing against the duvet, your restraints, it’s too late for him to slip his cock out. He knows it, even if he does it anyway, you cry out, hips bucking against nothing searching for friction to extend your orgasm as long as you can.
He doesn’t speak when he flips you over. His hands are rough, movements quick, his cock splits you open the moment your knees hit the mattress. You don’t get a second to feel relief.
“You’re nothing but a greedy fucking whore,” each word is punched, animalistic, angry and ragged; your spine bends toward him, cunt clenching around him, toes digging into the heels on your feet. He pushes you down with one hand, “Keep that fucking back down.”
“Again,” you cry, weak and desperate, “Again.”
He’s fucking you like he hates you, like your pleasure meant nothing to him. Brows furrowed, jaw sharp like a blade, he’s angry as his cock drills inside you, chest red and splotchy, sweat beading down his mismatched skin.
“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, “Stupid bitch, you’re only making it worse for yourself.”
“I’m sorry–”
He lands a sharp smack to your ass, “Don’t fuckin’ apologize. Deal with the consequences.”
“I’m sorry!” It’s louder this time, strained. Your hips fuck back, knees buried in the bed for stability, “I need you, I need it, I need to cum again, please– please Yunho, I’ll–”
He reaches down to push your face into the mattress, “I told you to shut the fuck up, listen for once in your goddamn life.”
Mouth meeting cotton, you can’t catch your breath, shins kicking against the mattress. His pace is angry, brutal, you can feel yourself falling apart, pleasure and pain melting together, desperation and satisfaction blending into one. Your head feels fuzzy again from the loss of air, cloudy in a way that means submission, your body softens.
He lets go of your head to grab onto the belt with one hand, pulling you up, back level with your hips, your sobs becoming verbal once again. Your head hangs low, deadweight for him to hold.
“Say you’re sorry.”
Light, airy, your cloudy eyes meet the duvet, “I’m s-sorry–”
“Say it like you fucking mean it.”
You wince, “I’m so sorry, sir.”
His voice sounds rigid, like he might cum again. “Tell me what you are.”
The answer comes easy, “I’m a whore.”
He lands a sharp smack to your ass, “You’re less than that.”
“I’m n-nothing,” you whimper, “A h-hole, a sleeve.”
He lets go of the belt and you fall against the mattress, a rough sound muffled as your chest hits cotton. He flattens you with his palms, lowering his weight over your back until his skin sticks to yours, he slides one arm beneath you, under your chest, cupping your jaw with one huge palm. He guides your head to the side to see him, sweaty and angled and fucked out, but he rounds out when he sees you– face flushed, wet with saliva, tears, splotched and messy, your eyes glossy and huge and somewhere else.
He starts rolling his hips into you again, slower, just as damning, “You’re missing something.”
Your brows furrow, clenching around him, mewling out something incoherent before asking, “M-missing?”
He rolls his hips, cock brushing over that spot, you shake against him, body trembling. He bites his lip roughly like he’s forcing himself into composure before he asks, “Who’s hole? Who’s sleeve?”
“Y-Yours!” You’re scrambling to correct your mistake, “I’m y-yours. Your whore, your hole, your sleeve. Yours to use.”
He moans, soft and wilted and fucking angelic. His rhythm doesn’t falter, patient but aimed, like he wanted you to feel every inch, every vein. You can’t move, stuck under his weight, held in his palm, your face forms to gratification, lips open but silent, eyelids fluttering, you feel like you’ve given him all of you. Your pleasure, your pain, he holds it all in the palm of his hand, he holds you like you’re something sacred.
“Made for me,” his voice is quieter, soft at the edges. “Only I could love you like this. Broken, small.” He drops into just above a whisper, “Ruined.”
“Please,” you whisper, a single tear running down your cheek, “Cum inside me.”
Hot salt meets his fingers, his grip tightens ever so slightly, cock twitching inside you. “Cum for me first. Show me how well you listen.”
Your brows furrow, instinct at war with his tone, his words. Even if you don’t know how honest he is, your body reacts, rutting against his thrusts, clenching around his length that sails over the front of your walls with purpose. Climbing, reaching, you stare into his dark, focused eyes, softly whimpering, “Yunho.”
“I got you, I’ll let you,” he encourages, his tone not fully sweet. “Just this once.”
Your body trusts him, enough that your peak approaches in a cloudy haze; you tremble in pleasure, choking on a cry, crumbling against his arm that holds you still, steady, safe.
“Fuck,” it’s a hot word in your ear, “So fucking tight.”
His hips pick up and you move, tears falling hot again, overstimulated and forced in a cycle of pleasure, your wrists pull, your legs thrash, your whines pick up, his grip tightens on your jaw.
“Want me to fill this pussy up?” His breathing is as verbal as his question, “You think you deserve it?”
“Yes,” you answer in a cry, “I do, I do, please– inside, sir, Yunho, please–”
He gruffs out a noise squeezed from his throat, hips smacking against your skin, stuttering. His fingers push up on your jaw until it closes, silencing you with fingers pressed in your face, his head dipping low as he chases his orgasm.
“Slutty fucking cunt,” he growls out, lips just grazing your shoulder he lifted, “No you don’t.”
You don’t process the rejection as he lifts himself, you turn over with haste in the second it takes to settle, pleas on your tongue; he’s already crawling over you, knees beside your shoulders, fist wrapped around his cock.
“Yunho, no–”
“Learn from this.” He pumps his length with fervor, knuckles white, hips bucking into his own hand. “Remember this the next time you think about giving my property away.”
You don’t know how you have any more tears to give. Sucking down air, body thrashing beneath his thighs that pin you down, you wail. He watches, lips parting, brows furrowing, like your face and your pain was getting him off, it doesn’t take long until he’s groaning, cock spilling ropes of white onto your cheeks, your nose, your hair, your chest.
Heartbreak blooms. Chest cracking, you succumb to the tears, slipping from your half-open eyes down to the streaks of white on your face, mixing into salty, thick heat. You might be talking, repetition of no filling the air like it’d rewind time, convince him to fill you up again and leave his mark behind.
He takes his time crawling off you, turning you halfway, one hand skillfully prying the belt undone. Your arms are free but you can’t feel the air on your wrists, even as he moves them in front of you. Sitting beside you he lifts your wrists, checking them, moving the pads of his thumbs over your swollen veins on the inside.
“Fist,” it’s soft; a direct order, one without malice. You barely hear it over your cries, but you flex your fingers, make a fist, he nods once in approval, thumbs ghosting over the red, broken crescents in the heels that your nails left behind.
Tangling his fingers with yours, it’s not a show of affection, he moves your wrists in a circular motion, clockwise, then counter-clockwise, watching your face for any sign of pain or discomfort. There’s none, other than your dejected cries, he knows you well enough to know the difference.
Laying your wrists softly beside you, he crawls downward, lifting one leg, untying the buckle at your ankle. He slips your heel off your foot, pressing a kiss to the underside of your toes, another to your ankle. He moves to the other after gently laying your leg down, repeating the process, his lips soft against your skin.
He leans forward again, stretching his legs out beneath him, slinging an arm under your shoulders to tuck you into his chest. Your forehead meets his skin, wet and sticky with sweat, his cum, saliva; being eased into comfort after so long of not having it just makes you cry harder. He lets you release, one hand in your scalp, the other grazing your back, he doesn’t speak until your sobs lower, when you’ve reached a point that you have nothing else to spend.
“You did so well for me,” he whispers, lips softly meeting your roots. “Took everything I gave you, I’m so proud of you.”
All you can respond is a whimper, soft and light, the only sound you have left inside. Exhaustion lays heavy like a blanket, its weight on your eyelids, on your legs, in the arches of your feet.
“I’m gonna go get you some water.”
Your shaky arms reach, neck bending, holding him close with your palm on his waist. Meeting his eye, seeing him, you hope he can see the not yet in your eyes. His face deflates into roundness as his thumb meets your cheek, wiping slick off your skin that’s gone cold by now. His eyes sparkling and soft, he’s in caretaker mode– the doing after he takes, you aren’t ready for it yet. You need him.
His eyes flicker to your lips and he can feel the way you bend for him, into him, asking for it without saying a word. His lips meet yours with delicacy, a soft graze of his lips before you part for him, beckoning for more. He lets his lips mold with yours, open and sweet, no haste, gradual and slow, his hands exploring your skin, your palm reaching upward to cup his cheek.
“One more,” you whisper into his mouth, using all your might to form words. Your ankle hooks over his back, a shaky breath escaping you when your body meets the cold slick of his spent length. He hisses at the friction, head beginning to shake, you cut him off before he can speak. “Please.”
His eyes study your face for a moment. “You can handle it?”
“I need it,” your voice cracks on the second word. “Need to feel that you love me.”
His brows furrow, “Baby.”
“Yunho,” you whimper in the same tone, “Please.”
He catches your lips in a kiss and you’re not met with any more haste than before. It’s slow, passionate, he’s burning words onto your tongue, making you feel it instead of him saying it. He reaches down between your bodies, pumping his cock once, twice, pushing a small sound into your mouth, one you swallow down, tucking it beside your heart. Running his tip through your folds, you brace yourself, legs already shaking, bruised and battered and still aching for more.
You wince as he starts pushing inside, his lips meet your jaw. On your sides, facing each other, you throw your arms over his shoulders, his hands sinking down around your waist, from how close you lay there’s barely any room for him to feed you a full thrust. He tries, grinding his cock against that spot inside you, eating every soft, wrecked moan you spill.
“I love you so much,” he finally says, “Every inch of you, every part of this body.”
You whimper, fingers curling into his hair with no force, succumbing to the pleasure, the slight sting of overstimulation.
“You take everything,” he whispers, lips against your cheek, you feel his breath, the severity of his words. “Do so fucking well for me every time. I need you.” Your heart jumps, clenching around him, pressure stemming. He repeats, voice a little louder, “I need you, love you s’much, ‘d do anything for you.”
Your hands drop to his shoulderblades, nails sinking in, breath growing heavier, a soft moan slipping past your lips, into his mouth. You whimper, voice cracking, “I’m sorry.”
“I know,” his fingertips curl into your back, “I know, baby.”
“I love you,” your voice cracks again, breath going uneven, he kisses you softly.
Your hips move with his, meeting each roll, the slick sound of your still-soaked center a symphony in your dimlit bedroom. He hears when your breathing shifts, as you start to climb. “Yes,” he encourages, voice dripping in praise, “Cum for me, baby, you deserve it. Did so good for me.”
Your breath hitches, hips twitching against him, he rolls into you a little harder. He kisses you, tongue sloppy inside your mouth, tasting everything you’d given him tonight, taking responsibility for it all. He turns you just slightly, angling you onto your back a little more so he can piston his hips higher, against that spot inside you. Your leg dangles, leaving your body spread and open, so trusting it makes his stomach do a flip. He presses two fingers against your clit, rubbing quick, tight circles.
He knows you’re seeing stars by the loud, pitched cry from your throat, he curses under his breath, “C’mon, cum for me. Give it to me, let me have it, I need it.”
Your spine bends on command, thighs shaking, pleasure washing over you in tremors. Eyes squeezing shut, he kisses your unmoving mouth, fingers working your clit, fucking you through it, extending your release, pulling it deeper, hotter, longer.
He kisses your cheek when a tear slips out, wiping his upper lip with his tongue. Your face is bent up in pleasure, eyes big and doe-like, pupils dilated. You mumble, voice little and weak, “Please cum inside me.”
His pace quickens, chasing instead of supplying, voice caught in his chest. You kiss him again, sloppier, moaning into his mouth as he fucks into you steadily, fingers curling into his hair while you fuck him back. He chokes on a moan, hand splayed across your abdomen, hips losing their rhythm before he stutters, legs shaking, spilling everything that’s left inside him to give.
Winded, breathing heavy, Yunho’s spent. There’s nothing but the sound of your breath in the room, he keeps his cock inside you until it’s soft and even then you wait until discomfort knocks on your door to part.
“Can I clean you up?” He asks into the silence, palm still heavy over your sticky stomach.
You moan your disagreement. “We need to shower.”
He rolls over, pressing a soft kiss onto your cheek, “Are you strong enough to?”
Your head turns, meeting his eye, a smile curving your lips to a singular degree. “I don’t really have a choice. You came on me twice– three times?”
He plants his palms on either side of your head, eyes meeting the ceiling in thought. “Mouth, thighs, stomach, face, inside. Three.”
You throw your arms over his shoulders, bringing him down to kiss you. A soft, quick peck, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he smiles into your lips, “I’ll carry you and clean you, you don’t have to do anything. I’ll change our sheets, we’ll eat something, watch our show…”
You nod slowly, brain drifting. From the most vulnerable part of your foggy mind comes a question, voice thin as you ask, “You know I don’t want Yeosang, right?”
His eyes flicker over your face, searching for the emotion that asked the question.
“Of course,” he replies, full of confidence, already spitting quick reassurance, “We’re perfect. I’m not angry at you, I’m not upset with you, I don’t have any feelings that will fester over tonight. Are you okay? Did I push you too far?”
You shake your head, “No.” Biting your lip, they scrunch to one side. “I’m okay, I just… Don’t stray too far away from me tonight. Please.”
He leans down to press another kiss on your forehead, “I won’t leave your side. I promise.”
— 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.
drabble — chan can pretty much take everything, but not his ego.
You were insatiable.
That was the first thing Chan learned about you when you started dating, and months later it still left him breathless, addicted, and occasionally wrecked. No matter how many times he made you cum—on his tongue, his fingers, his cock—you always came back for more, eyes dark and body already humming with fresh need. Some nights you’d pounce the second he walked through the door, dropping to your knees before he could even set his bag down. Other nights you’d ride him for hours until sweat slicked both your bodies and his voice went hoarse from groaning your name.
He loved it. Most of the time.
Tonight, though, he was exhausted. You've been all over him for the rest of the day, that leaves him exhausted and dried. Too much for him to mive anymore.
Chan was sprawled on the couch in nothing but gray sweatpants, one arm slung behind his head, the other lazily curled around you as some action movie played on the TV. His thumb idly stroked your thigh, half-distracted. You were already worked up, again, pressing hot little kisses along his neck, guiding his free hand between your legs.
You weren’t wearing panties.
Two of his fingers sank easily into your soaked cunt, curling just the way you liked. You moaned softly against his skin, rocking your hips, chasing the friction. He pumped them steadily, thumb circling your clit, but his eyes stayed on the screen. You rode his hand harder, breath hitching, thighs trembling as you came with a quiet gasp.
But you didn't stop from riding his fingers, relentless amd desperate to reach another one of those orgasm he could give you. Once, twice, thrice more. But it wasn't enough. Of course, it wasn't enough. It won't be enough for you, Chan knowsbthat already, so eventhough his wrists aches from koving the same action over and over again, he still does everything he could to at least make you feel good, despite being exhausted.
So imagine his shock when suddenly you sat up, flushed and glassy-eyed, and kissed him once—deep and filthy—before pulling back away from him. Chest heaving up and down, that expression on your face he knows very well.
"You know how much I love you, yeah?" You hummed against his lips, although confused, Chan nodded his head.
"Great, so you wouldn't mind if I slip on our room and take care of myself? I love you, I really really do, but your hands doesn't do much for me right now. I needed something more. I promise, I'll be quick."
Chan blinked, a little dazed as you slipped off the couch and disappeared into your shared bedroom. The door clicked shut.
At first he just shrugged it off, adjusting his hardening cock in his sweats, as much as he wanted to help you out, his whole body is already aching. You were insatiable, yeah, but you’d come back. You always did.
Then he heard it.
The low, familiar buzz of your vibrator. Followed by your moan—loud, shameless, unrestrained.
Chan’s jaw tightened. Another moan, higher this time, and the wet, rhythmic sound of you fucking yourself with your toys. He could picture it perfectly; legs spread wide on the bed, one hand pinching your nipple while the other worked that thick silicone cock in and out of your dripping pussy, the vibrator pressed hard against your clit.
His ego took the hit like a punch to the gut.
What the fuck? After everything he gave you? Hours of him buried inside you, making you scream until your throat was raw, you still needed toys to feel satisfied? His hand wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough?
The vibrator’s intensity kicked up. Your moans turned into desperate, broken whimpers.
Something in Chan snapped.
He stood up fast, exhaustion vanished from him, replaced by fury. He felt his ego wounded, and stormed down the hall. He didn’t even knock. The door flew open.
You were exactly as he’d imagined. Naked, legs splayed obscenely, one of your thick dildos stretching your pussy while the vibrator buzzed mercilessly against your swollen clit. Your eyes flew open when he entered, lips parted on a moan.
"What— Chan!"
He was on you before you could finish his name. He ripped the toys away and tossed them aside with a clatter. You gasped as he shoved you flat on your back, yanking your thighs apart roughly. His sweats were shoved down just enough to free his aching cock—hard, flushed dark, leaking at the tip.
“Chan!” you shrieked.
“You think those silicone pieces of shit can fuck you better than me?” His voice was low, dangerous, all the usual softness gone. He lined himself up and slammed in to the hilt in one brutal thrust.
You cried out, back arching sharply. He was thicker than any toy, and the sudden stretch burned so good.
Chan didn’t give you time to adjust. He fucked you like he was punishing you, deep, punishing strokes that made the bed creak and your tits bounce. One hand pinned your wrists above your head, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise.
“Hours,” he growled against your ear, hips snapping relentlessly. “I fuck you for hours and you still sneak off to let toys stretch this greedy little cunt? You're a disgusting whore.”
You could barely speak, only moan and sob his name as he railed you. Every thrust dragged against that perfect spot inside you, brutal and precise. He was so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach.
He pulled out suddenly, flipped you onto your stomach, and your hips up. He mounted you again, fucking you even harder from behind, one hand fisting your hair.
“Tell me,” he demanded, voice rough. “Tell me those toys will never be enough again.”
“It won’t—ahh—fuck, Chan—!” you cried, pushing back to meet his thrusts.
He reached around and rubbed your clit in tight, mean circles. Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, walls clamping down around his cock so hard he groaned. But he didn’t stop. He fucked you straight through it, chasing his own release while you shook and drooled into the sheets.
When he came, it was with a guttural moan, burying himself as deep as possible and flooding you with hot, thick spurts. He stayed inside you, grinding slow and possessive, making sure every drop stayed right where it belonged.
He finally let go of your body after what felt like an eternity, collapsing beside you with a heavy, satisfied groan. His chest heaved, skin glistening with sweat, cock still twitching from the force of his release.
The second his grip loosened, you rolled onto your back, smiling up at the ceiling with hazy, half-lidded eyes. Your body was trembling, thighs sticky with his cum and your own arousal, but the lazy, blissed-out grin on your face said everything.
“I didn’t know you could do that…” you murmured dreamily, voice hoarse and dazed, still floating in the afterglow.
Chan froze. A deep flush crawled up his neck and across his cheeks. He groaned in pure embarrassment, throwing one arm over his face as he turned his head into the pillow.
“Shut up,” he muttered, voice muffled and mortified, though you could hear the hint of a shy laugh in it.
You let out a weak, satisfied laugh, your fingers lazily threading through his damp hair.
“Baby… that was so hot,” you whispered, still smiling dreamily. “I think I need you to get jealous of my toys more often.”
Chan groaned again, louder this time, his arm wrapped around your waist as he bury his face on your neck.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he mumbled to which made you giggle again and maybe let him rest for now because honestly, the exhaustion is starting to come over you now.
a/n: hi! hey, so i promise i am currently taking a rest. But after reading certain jjk fic i just had to do a similar thing to it. this was very much inspired to that sukuna smut i read that i forgot to save. i thought i shared it but turns out i didn't. please, if you know what fic i am talking about please tag the author so i could credit them properly. ANYWAYS. Just dropping this off and then see you all once i completely recovered. LOVE LOTS <333
PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS! corruption kink, soft virgin & innocent reader. typical ‘just the tip’ fic—nerves about having sex etc. mg is horny and desperate and so are you. he talks down/patronises you a bit but it’s all loving. unprotected sex, size kink, riding, breeding kink etc. you’re described as small by him.
You’re both pent up, you know that. It’s palpable—in the hot, heavy air, in the weight of his hands on your skin and the tension between you on the couch. The fervour of his every movement; every gasp for breath between hot, messy, desperate kisses across your skin. Eyes hooded. Breathing heavy. Jaw twitching like he’s trying not to crack.
Your skin is flushed, sweaty; his hands move across your chest and neck and thighs with a hurriedness, like he’s trying to drink you in, every inch of you, before you slip away and he never has the chance to.
You’ve never been wanted—needed—like this. It scares you just as much as it excites you. Maybe more.
Because Mingi is a man of passion—that was clear to you very early on—in everything he is and everything he does. And being the object of that passion is no small thing; it’s a fire that spreads without restraint and scorches everything in its path. Including you. Including him.
His hands reach under your ass to pull you up and onto his lap, straddling him with your legs on either side. You feel him under you—hard, throbbing, straining against his pants—and your body reacts to it instinctively; your gut twists and your cunt clenches around nothing; your hips buck, slowly at first, then faster and more desperate until your clothed pussy is grinding shamelessly against his bulge.
You’re not in control now; that much is clear. Desperation has boiled over until your head couldn’t contain it anymore and it’s seeped down into your cunt.
“Fuck,” Mingi groans into your mouth. “Baby, fuck.”
”Min,” you whine. “Min. Feels so—”
He pulls back fully, all of a sudden, holding your face in his hands and forcing your gaze on him. His eyes are blazing, pupils blown like he’s already lost control. His hands are practically shaking with need, but at the same time you feel the steadiness, the strength in his hold on you. The safety. “I can make you feel better,” he gruffs. “Better than this. Better than anyone.”
You know he can. He already has made you feel better than anyone, just from the way he’s touched you over your clothes and talked and praised you through each tiny movement. But you know what he’s getting at—what he actually wants. And you want it too—fuck do you want it too—you just…
You chew at your lip, hesitant; nervous. His gaze fixes on it briefly, eyes narrowing some. “But I’ve never— you know.”
“Yeah, I know.” His words are soft now, murmured; careful, but his eyes flash with something you don’t understand. A small smile pulls at his lips, all softness and fondness. “My sweet girl, aren’t you? So innocent. Unused. Never done anything.”
“Min,” you whine, flushing a little at the condescension in his tone—patronising without mocking, but still enough to make you squirm.
“Baby,” he coos. “You know I’ll go slow, right? You know I’d never hurt you.”
“I know.”
“I’ll ease you into it, too. Open you up for me, nice and slow. Nice and easy. Just the tip, ‘til you’re ready for the rest. You trust me, right?”
“I do.” Of course you do. At this point Mingi could put a knife to your throat and you’d lean into the blade if he told you it was safe to.
He kisses you again; harder, more forceful, verging on painful but still firmly on the side of pleasure. “Keep grinding, sweetheart,” he mutters. “Babe, fuck. Pull that little skirt up for me, I wanna see you.”
He folds the hem of it between his fingers; the little miniskirt you wore for your date today. The skirt that had made his face harden, darken momentarily until he got ahold of himself again. The skirt he couldn’t take his eyes off of until he got you home.
But even now, he waits. Doesn’t push it up himself—waits for you to oblige or to refuse.
You oblige, of course. You know from the way his pupils dilate even further when you do that your panties must be soaked. His voice comes out strangled, like there’s a lump sitting unyielding and pulsing in his throat. “Fucking hell,” he grits. “Little panties all wet n’ soiled. Is that for me, baby? That all from grinding against my dick like an unspayed puppy?”
“Yes,” you whimper, nodding dumbly. “Mingi, please.”
“I got you,” he says. “Can I touch it, baby? Feel how wet you are for me?”
His voice is hoarse, clearly affected. You nod eagerly; he huffs out a low, shuddered breath and slowly moves one hand to cup your heat. It sends a pulse through your body like an electric current. “Perfect,” he breathes. “You feel that? Your pussy is throbbing on my hand, baby.”
“I feel it,” you nod. Fuck, it feels good. Mingi is so big and strong and warm and as much as it scares you, you think you’d let him do anything right now. “Min…”
“M’here,” he mumbles. “Holding your little pussy for you, just like you need. You don’t know what to do with it, do you?”
You whine; his eyes flicker up to meet your gaze and his lips curl in a small, knowing smile. “Yeah,” he chuckles. “You’re just helpless, aren’t you? Need me to show you how to feel good. Will you let me?”
“I just— it’s a little scary, Min.”
“That’s okay, honey,” he says softly. “I won’t go in yet, yeah? Just gonna rub my dick up and down the outside, see? You’re already gushing for me there, you’ll hardly feel it.”
His finger slips into your panties, hooking around the crotch and pulling it to the side. Your pussy, now bare and exposed to him, throbs a little harder. “Min…” You gasp. The air hits your cunt like a shiver down your spine; Mingi’s eyes fixed firmly on it like it’s the sweetest and most aggravating sight he’s ever seen feels even more biting. Just the feeling of him, holding you in his lap and staring at your cunt like he wants to take it apart and is struggling to hold himself back, is unlike anything you’ve imagined.
From your very first day with him, Mingi’s been your protector. Your safety—and he still is.
Yet now, like his, he somehow feels a little like a predator too.
And you, for some reason, are desperate for him to strike.
“You’re pulsing,” he breathes, barely above a whisper. “Fuck, baby, I can see you throbbing for me.”
“I need you,” you whimper. The words are coming now of their own accord.
“Pull my dick out,” he says. You falter a little and he smiles softly, shifting you on his lap. “C’mon, tiny. Nothing to be scared of. It’s not gonna hurt you.”
“It might,” you mumble. “You’re big.”
You swear Mingi’s eyes flash; his hand on your waist feels a little heavier now, like there’s suddenly more hunger, more possessiveness behind it. More intention.
“I’m big?” He chuckles. You nod. “I’m big, yeah. Or maybe you’re just tiny. I won’t hurt you though, honey. I told you we’ll take it slow, didn’t I?”
“Yeah.”
“Take it out then,” he says. “Be good for me, bunny.”
Your hands are shaking as you pull his dick out from his sweats; you’ve seen it before, of course, felt the hard outline of it when he’s pressed up behind you in bed—but this is different. This is going inside you.
It’s long and thick; rock hard and already leaking from the tip. “Fuck,” you breathe. “Min…”
“You like it?” He grins. You nod. “Good,” he says. “It’s yours. You can fuck yourself on it whenever you like, sweetheart. A big thick toy for my pretty little girl.”
“Please,” you mewl.
“You’re fine, baby,” he says. “Can you lift your hips for me, love?”
You obey, lifting yourself so you’re kneeling over him.
He grips the base of his dick, pumping it once, twice, three times, before his other arm wraps around your waist and pulls you down so your ass is resting on him and your pussy is pressed against the side of his shaft. You groan, the feeling of sending a spark of electricity through your body, and his cock twitches. “Fuck,” he gruffs. “Stay still, baby. Not gonna go in yet, just gonna fuck the outside, yeah? Where you’re all nice and slippery for me. Nice n’ wet already.”
“Okay,” you breathe.
It feels… strange. Good, definitely, but strange. Like you’re being teased. Every time his tip brushes against your clit you feel it through your entire body, to the tips of your toes and in the deepest crevices; your reaction to everything Mingi does, at this point, feels primal.
The way he groans, head thrown back in pleasure, feels primal too.
“Shit,” he grunts. “I gotta—fuck. This little cunt is so sweet, baby, so needy for me, I gotta fuck her. Need to.”
His dick is throbbing almost violently, pulsing against your clit and making you needier and needier. You want it—him—so bad you can’t even speak any more. You just whine, squirming, chasing the sensation and the pressure against your clit.
“C’mon,” Mingi says. “Let me in, baby. You want me inside, I can feel it.”
You nod. “Yeah,” you gasp.
“Tell me I can, then,” he grits out. “Tell me I can put it in. Just the tip, baby, please.”
“Okay,” you whisper. “The— just the tip, Min. Put it in.”
Mingi shudders; you feel it rippling through him, his grip tightening. He groans, adjusting himself, then slowly pushes in. “Thank you, baby. Just the tip, I promise. You’re being so brave, honey.”
Even from the tip you can feel the size difference between you; can tell taking him in his entirety will be no small task. The thought alone is dizzying; you’re squirming, trying and failing to stay still as he goes in deeper.
And deeper.
You hiss, muscles clenching, clawing at the material of his shirt. “Mingi,” you squeak. “It’s— what are you doing?”
He stops, freezing inside you, seeming to realise what he’s doing and getting a hold of himself again. But he doesn’t pull out—doesn’t back away. His eyes flicker up to your face, searching for something—a reaction, maybe, or a desperation you won’t admit. “Shit,” he mutters. “Sorry, baby, fuck, I just— you’re so warm, honey, so tight and wet, I’m losing my head a little. You make me crazy, you know that?”
You shake your head. He groans, squeezing his eyes shut, jaw clenching like he’s clinging to his composure. “You make it so hard to be gentle,” he says. “To hold back. I can’t think of anything but taking you apart right now. Filling you up. Fuck, baby.”
Fuck. Now neither can you. You whine, eyes squeezed shut, trying to think of anything else—anything but being ruined and claimed and bred by him.
But the image of him all the way inside, of you falling apart around him, of his cum dripping out of your stretched cunt—it’s too much. It’s too good.
You know you’re thinking with your pussy and not your head right now, and you don’t even care. You can’t care.
“Please,” you say. “Do it, Mingi. Fill me up.”
You feel him twitch inside you. His eyes soften, caring, a little concerned, but still the desperation and the excitement is overarching. “Are you sure?” He asks.
“I’m sure.”
He exhales, the breath slow and shaking, and nods. Then he starts again.
Slowly. Surely. But still dizzying.
You love how large Mingi is; how small and safe you feel with him. Now, though, you wonder if it’s possible to be too big.
“Shit,” you hiss.
“I know, I know, baby. Just open up for me, you can do it. That’s a good girl.”
He pushes his thumb past your lips, pressing it down on your tongue. “Make it wet,” he says. “That’s it.” Once he’s satisfied he pulls it out, smiling fondly at the whine that slips out of your mouth at the loss, and presses it against your clit. He rubs it slowly, firmly, the way he knows you like it.
Of course he knows. He’s the one who taught you how to touch yourself properly, after all.
You clench around him, pulsing, shifting yourself to chase the pressure on your clit and inadvertently pushing yourself down further on his cock. His voice is low, crooning, like he’s coaxing you open for him. “I’ll never hurt you, baby. Just wanna feel what s’like inside you. Doing so well f’me, that’s it.”
“Fuck,” you grunt. “Min, hurts—”
“I know, sweetheart,” he whispers. “Just for a little longer, okay? You’re gonna feel so full n’ fuzzy in a minute. Try and sit down for me, baby, try sit yourself down on my cock.”
It feels impossible, pushing yourself down any further than you already are; taking him any deeper than you already are. But Mingi is so gentle—stroking your skin, mumbling praises you can barely decipher—and he, both of you, wants it so fucking bad that all you can do is obey.
“That’s it,” he grumbles. “Good girl. C’mon now.”
By the time you get all the way to the bottom, your bodies pressed together, he’s almost crying. He looks like he’s trying not to shatter.
“Mingi,” you say. “Fuck me.”
“You’re ready? Really?”
“Really.”
You’re on your back, flipped over, legs around his waist while he hovers above you, before you can process it. Mingi’s eyes are dark, pupils blown and glinting with a desperation so hot it feels like it scorches your skin beneath it.
“Hold onto me,” he grunts. “You’re not getting it gentle.”
You squeeze your legs around him, pulling him closer, curling his shirt around your fists. Holding him like a lifeline; like he’s the only thing stopping you from shattering entirely.
At the same time, though, he’s the only thing that can make you shatter so completely and so thoroughly. He fucks you like he has nothing to lose, nothing to prove; like he’s entirely sure of himself and sure of his control. Like he can just take, take, take, and you’ll do nothing but stare up at him with wide, empty, loving eyes and give him everything he wants.
He’s right. Even when he finishes, when he falls over the edge with a shout and warmth blooms in your tummy, he keeps thrusting, keeps the same heavy grip on your waist like every inch of your skin belongs to him.
And when he pulls out and cum slowly starts to drip from your hole, he gathers it on his finger and pushes it back in.
“Keep it there,” he murmurs, smiling softly, tiredly at you. “You look so pretty full of me.”
warnings: multiple sex scenes, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, creampies, oral (m and f), fingering, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy
synopsis: after 6 years of being away from the village you grew up in, you're finally visiting your grandparents. you're excited to spend time with them, but your heart beats faster at the thought of seeing your first love.
a/n: this fic is for my twin from another continent @jehhskz 🩷 thank you for always supporting my works, being on this journey with me and yapping about our sweet hyune and whatever else!! i hope you enjoy reading this fic as much as i enjoyed writing it, happy birthday🥹🩷🫶🏻
~ divider by: @sweetmelodygraphics
their song🩷
A long exhale left your parted lips, right as you pressed your forehead against the cold window of the car, shutting your eyes tightly.
'Get it together, y/n!', you thought to yourself.
But how could you get it together when you were currently driving towards the place you left almost 6 years ago, the place you haven't even stepped foot in while you finished college and tried to build the career you always wanted in the city?
How could you get it together when you couldn't stop replaying the song that once brought you happy memories that were now just a part of your past, filling you up with melancholy?
How could you get it together when you know he still lives there and it's inevitable that you will run into him? Your heart skipped a beat the moment you thought of that.
How would he react? Would he ignore you as if he never knew you? Would he run into your arms, like you knew you'd feel the urge to do as soon as your eyes land on his? Would he just greet you politely, like you haven't already exchanged your breaths, your innocence, whispers of love, tangled your tongues and your hearts?
Did he move on?
You wouldn't blame him if he did, after all, you were the one who left him when you had promised to always stay by his side.
You called your grandparents earlier to let them know you'll be visiting, finally after so many years, you had to be there to celebrate their 60th wedding anniversary, you wouldn't miss it for anything in the world. They practically raised you while your parents worked out of the village and you always admired the tender love they had for each other, spending so many years together and going through so much that just made their bond stronger.
You were tempted to ask your grandmother about Hyunjin, what he was doing now or if he had a significant other. But, you had bitten your tongue, too scared to find out the answer to your question.
You only hoped he didn't hate you.
Hyunjin. The boy that smiled shyly at you when you were just five years old, when his mother had brought him to your house for a play date while the parents have some 'grown up time'. You returned the shy smile, playing with the fabric of your nice dress, the one your mom made you wear, saying something about a 'good impression'. The awkwardness between you disappeared pretty quickly, as soon as you showed him your favorite toys, the two of you started playing together in your yard, between all the dirt and the flowers. Your mother had scolded you later for ruining your dress but your grandmother calmed her down, telling her how the dress paled in comparison to having a good time with a new friend.
Hyunjin and you had at least two play dates a week which turned into three, then four, soon you became inseparable; especially when you started going to school together. Both of you were pretty frightened about that change, standing in front of the school gate so Hyunjin reached out to hold your hand, squeezing it reassuringly as your little cheeks became rosy.
He was your best friend, your first and last crush.
Years of being by his side, watching him grow and growing with him, you couldn't imagine your life without him. Hyunjin knew almost everything about you as you did with him and when both of you started high school, something changed.
He was growing up, he was different than before and you started looking at him differently. Before, you were used to the feeling you got when he touched your hand but now it seemed more electrifying. Hyunjin felt the same, suddenly becoming a stuttering mess next to you, staring at you with shiny eyes and a dumb smile on his face while you'd come home from school every day with butterflies in your stomach and a new diary entry to write.
You noticed how pretty his smile was, how gentle his voice sounded when he spoke your name, how his eyes were trained on your lips one too many times. Hyunjin noticed how your silky hair fell over your shoulders, the way you'd flip it back when he called out to you, how you'd smile at him with rosy cheeks.
Then one night while you were sleeping, Hyunjin couldn't hold back anymore. He sneaked out of his room, stalking down the road quietly to your house, you were only a few minutes away from his place. He stood beneath your window, his palms clammy, heart pounding against his chest, his throat completely dry. There was no going back now. You were awakened by the sounds of little stones hitting your window and confusedly you sat up, squinting towards the direction where the sound was coming from.
"What the-" you started as you stood up. You quietly walked over to your window and peeked down.
"Hyunjin?" you wondered to yourself before opening the window abruptly just as he lifted his hand up and threw another little rock, almost hitting you straight in the face but you dodged with a gasp as it landed behind you.
"Bunny! I'm so sorry!" he panicked immediately, flailing his long arms, the nickname he always used for you making your stomach flutter.
"What are you doing here? It's 2am." you asked confusedly.
"Let me come up please. I need to talk to you." Hyunjin looked nervous, shifting from one foot to the other, chewing on his lip and playing with his fingers.
"Can't this wait until the morning?" your brain was still half asleep and the chilly air from the outside made you shiver in the little nightgown you had on.
"I mean... I guess it can. It's just I don't know if I will have courage tomorrow." he mumbled, looking down and kicking around the little rocks with his foot.
"Fine. Come on up." you said and Hyunjin climbed quickly even though you scolded him, reminding him to be careful and quiet.
"Sorry." he sheepishly smiled at you when you grabbed his wrists and pulled him inside, but his foot got stuck which ended in you falling backwards on your butt and him sprawled on the floor on his hands and knees, hovering over you.
"Hyunjin!" you grunted in pain. "If my grandparents find you here-"
"I know, I know, I'm sorry!" he whispered and the two of you just sat there quietly, trying to hear if there was any indication that someone was coming to your door.
But it was dead quiet, except for the crickets outside of your house and the loud thumping of your heart so both of you let out a breath of relief.
"What did you need to tell me?" you asked after the two of you sat down, you on your bed and Hyunjin on the chair. He stood up abruptly, a shaky breath leaving his lips. Hyunjin rubbed his hands together as he looked away from you. You were suddenly worried, knowing he rarely gets this serious.
"I've been hiding this from you for a while but I can't hold it back anymore, even if you don't feel the same about me I need you to know how I feel because otherwise my chest will burst." he babbled, looking at you nervously.
"Jinnie, what are you talking about?" you asked with brows furrowed, your heartbeat picking up speed.
"I like you. More than friends. As in I'd like to kiss you and hold your hand and have it mean something more than just 'best friends'. I want to be your boyfriend." he blurted out, heart wilding in his chest as he scanned your face, looking for a reaction.
Your lips parted as you stared at him quietly for a moment, trying to process what he was saying. Your dear, sweet Jinnie who you were in love with for years was confessing to you? Looking so nervous and adorable, telling you he wants to kiss you and be yours?
You wished you could scream. So, you did just that. You grabbed your pillow and muffled your excited scream with it as Hyunjin stared at you with wide eyes.
"Um. Are you okay?" he chuckled awkwardly.
"Not really." you shook your head. "Sorry, it's just... I like you too, Jinnie. And I'd love to kiss you and be yours."
"Oh." he stood awkwardly in place like he wasn't expecting a positive answer.
"Are you gonna kiss me now?" you asked sheepishly after a moment of silence.
"Can I?" he looked excited and nervous as he came closer to you and you stood up slowly, nodding at him.
"I- You know I've never kissed anyone before." he said quietly.
"Me neither. It's okay." you gently took his hand in yours and Hyunjin felt the familiar comfort you always gave to him, reaching into his soul even now.
You stared into each other's eyes for a moment, letting the dust settle and the reality sink in, smiles creeping up on your faces as you slowly leaned in. Lips against lips pressed together and your eyes fluttered shut, your entire body buzzing.
Hyunjin squeezed your hand, his other hand tentatively touching the side of your waist as you placed your hand on his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat underneath your fingers.
Everything fell into place then, you were his and he was yours-
"Miss? Miss, we're here." you snapped out of your reminiscing session as the driver pulled up to your grandparents house. You almost forgot how tiny the village is, how cozy and familiar all of it is. The dirt roads you walked on, mostly with Hyunjin by your side, the little forest that led to a clearing you used for picnic dates and stargazing, your grandmother's colorful garden, the porch she always sat on, admiring the flowers she helped grow. Even the air smelled familiar and it was almost as if you had never left.
"Let me help with your bags." the man said as you walked out of the car, taking a deep breath of fresh air into your lungs.
"Thank you." you said as he pulled out your suitcase. "Careful with those, please!" you added as the driver struggled, finally managing to put both of your suitcases down.
You missed the annoyed look he gave you while you put on your lipgloss, making sure your lips were nice and plump as you checked yourself out in the little pocket mirror.
"Oh, right." you remembered. "Here." you opened your wallet and grabbed some bills, paying the driver and leaving him a nice tip.
Before you could close your wallet, something caught your eye. A little picture of you and Hyunjin, where he was holding you from behind, both of your faces rosy with big smiles as you were chuckling together. You sighed and closed your wallet quickly, shoving it into your bag.
"Thanks for the tip, miss. Have a nice day." the man rounded his car.
"You too." you waved and he turned on his car while you stepped back as the screeching tires lifted up the dirt.
"Ugh." you made a disgusted face, turning around to pull your suitcases with you. After a struggle with the luggage, you managed to finally make the little wheels roll as you walked into the driveway of your childhood home.
"Shit!" your heart leaped out of your chest when your foot got stuck and you pulled, gasping once again when you realized your heel broke.
"Great. Just what I need." you rolled your eyes. Not a good beginning to this visit, you thought.
"Oh, she's here!" you heard the warm, familiar voice belonging to your grandma.
"Nana!" you called out to your grandma as she made her way to you, surprisingly agile for her age. "Oh!" you gasped when she gave you a bone crushing hug.
"Oh, how I missed you my child!" she was already pinching your cheeks as you groaned, noticing your grandfather had just walked out on the porch.
"There's my favorite grandchild." he said with a wink and you shook your, chuckling.
"Of course I'm your favorite when I'm the only one." you laughed quietly and grandma shushed you.
"Don't ruin his jokes, it makes him happy." she nudged you with a wink and you nodded.
"Come here." your grandpa kissed your cheeks, taking a moment to look at you.
"You look all serious and business-y." he said and you chuckled, looking down at your attire.
You were still wearing the suit you'd usually wear to work and the heels that were now broken.
"My heel broke." you remembered and you grandma started laughing.
"Honey, you can forget about heels here. I hope you brought some comfortable shoes that are dirt friendly." she joked as your grandpa helped with your luggage.
As soon as you walked into the house, you were hit with an even bigger wave of nostalgia than the one slowly building in your soul while you drove towards the village. They haven't changed almost anything, all the decoration was the same, everything smelled the same and familiar, like the home you grew up in never changed.
Like you never changed.
"Are you hungry, my child?"
"Oh yes." you nodded at your grandma eagerly, happy to be eating her home-cooked food.
"Good, wash your hands and join us for dinner."
She gave you some house slippers as you threw your poor broken heels aside and after washing your hands, you joined them at the table.
"So, how is the big city treating you?" your grandpa asked and you caught them up on your work, friends, your apartment, anything about the city you thought was worth mentioning.
"How are things here?" you asked after they listened to you, interested in your new experiences.
"Oh, you know. There is always something to do here. We have the house, the garden, the chickens, the goats. We are not as young and strong as we were once before but we are used to working. Plus, someone always comes to help out." nana explained.
"Like who?" you asked absentmindedly, chewing on the salad.
"Well, do you remember Chan? He was always a nice boy, that one. He got married recently but he still comes to help out with some repairs the house needs."
"Chan got married? Wow." you chuckled, it made sense. He had the same girlfriend for years and he was older than you so you weren't that surprised.
"And of course, Hyunjin." you grandma gave you a knowing smile as your entire body froze and you almost choked on your salad.
"Hyunjin got married?!" you spat out and your grandma gasped and then started laughing.
"No, dear, no." she chuckled at your reaction. "I meant Hyunjin comes here to help a lot. He repainted the entire kitchen and living room. Helps out with the animals and the garden when he isn't working on his farm. Or working around with other people, helping them build their houses and things like that."
"Oh..." you swallowed. "So, you see him a lot?"
"Yeah, almost every day!" grandpa chuckled. "He even joined us for breakfast this morning."
You suddenly felt a knot forming in your stomach. Hyunjin spent more time in your home, with your family than you did.
"Does he... does he have someone? You know. A partner." your voice broke a little as you blinked your tears away. You hated how you always cried easily, especially when it's about Hyunjin.
"No, he only works." your grandma frowned. "That boy never stops from early in the morning until late night hours. He just works and works his days away."
Somehow, that made you feel a little more at ease even though your heart still hurt.
"He asks about you, you know." grandma added.
You almost choked on your food again.
"He does?" you swallowed quickly, deciding that your appetite is now gone.
"Yeah. He asks if you're healthy, if you're doing good."
"Oh."
The weight of your grandma's words settled in your heart, heavy like a rock even as you tried to distract yourself with washing dishes and helping her clean up.
"Your room is the same as it was always. We never touched or removed anything." your grandma smiled at you, her hand gentle on your cheek.
"You should go see Hyunjin." she added.
"I- Maybe later." your throat dried up and you needed a moment to yourself, a moment to gather your thoughts. You walked up the stairs to your room as soon as you finished cleaning up, pulling your suitcases up with you. When the door creaked open, you were greeted by your past.
Your grandparents really left everything intact.
You stopped in your tracks after closing the door, too scared to move so you wouldn't disrupt the memories you were witnessing in your mind. Countless times Hyunjin and you spent here, ever since you were kids all the way up to the end of high school and the summer before you left for good. He was everywhere in that room. He sat on your windowsill, he paced around the floor, he swayed backwards on your chair (falling on his butt one too many times), he laid on your bed, kissing you and telling you how much he loves you.
There were polaroid pictures of you on the left side of your table, the drawings he gave you as a gift, your favorite teddy bear he got you for your one year anniversary still propped up against your pillows... You opened your drawer and found your diaries, his name scribbled on the pages, on your heart. You picked up one of the polaroids as your other hand automatically went to your chest. The couple necklaces you shared, one half of a heart was still around your neck, hidden under your shirt and close to your heart, the other one was still with him or maybe it wasn't. Maybe he threw it away after you left and never came back, not even returning his calls or texts.
"Hyunjin..." you whispered as you smiled at the picture, him with his hair over his eyes trying to make a scary face and you in the back, your hands on his shoulders as you stood on your tippy toes and put your tongue out, making a silly face.
Suddenly, you were overcome by emotions and tears spilled from your eyes. You loved him your entire life. And even if you tried to escape that feeling, you never really could. Hyunjin grew roots inside your heart and he wasn't going anywhere any time soon. You let yourself cry for a moment, hugging the teddy bear as you sat on your bed.
Should you go see him?
He has every right to be mad at you and you were scared of him turning a cold shoulder. But then again, your grandma said he asks for you. Maybe he is just curious?
Either way, you weren't ready to face him yet.
You decided to unpack and shower, change into something more comfortable and hopefully catch up on sleep.
But as soon as you got into your bed, sleep wouldn't come to you, no matter how quiet and peaceful the village was in comparison to the city and how comfortable your old bed was. Your mind drifted off to that night when Hyunjin snuck in, right before your prom.
Six years ago
"Hey, little bunny." Hyunjin had climbed through the window that you left open for him, knocking down one of your books from the shelf next to it in the process.
"Hyun!" you scolded him with a chuckle.
"I know, I know. I'm trying to be quiet." he whispered, lifting his arms up in defeat.
"Come here, clumsy." you giggled and he practically skipped to you, his long arms wrapping around your smaller frame and pulling you into him.
"I'm so excited for tomorrow." your voice was muffled by his chest and he chuckled.
"Me too. I hope I don't step on your toes." he grimaced and you looked up at him, your fingers tangled in his long dark hair.
"You won't. You're a great dancer and we practiced a lot." you smiled, caressing the back of his neck and Hyunjin melted, his arms tightening around you.
"Yes, but when I'm nervous I can't control my body." he whined with a pout. "There will be other people there, looking at us and-"
"You'll do fine, trust me." you interrupted his nervous babbling. "Just imagine it's the two of us, like right now." you swayed slowly and he followed you, exhaling and pressing his forehead against yours.
"I love you, little bunny." he whispered.
"I love you too, Jinnie." you whispered back and his lips were on yours instantly. Hands explored awkwardly as you were backed into your bed, falling down with Hyunjin on top of you. You had messed around like this before, his hands under your nightgown, fingers dipping into your underwear, your hand wrapped around his length.
"H-Hyunjin?" you whimpered as he slowly pumped his fingers inside you, kissing your neck.
"Yes, doll?" he whispered back, the nickname giving you shivers.
"I'm ready. For... you know. I wanna go all the way with you." you bit on your lip as his eyes widened.
"Are you- are you sure? I can wait for you for however long you need. You don't have to feel pressured." he shook his head, pulling his fingers out.
"No, no. I am sure. I love you and I want to be yours completely." you gripped at his shoulders and Hyunjin's heart leaped out of his chest as he smiled sweetly at you.
"I want to be yours completely too. Be your first and your last. And you mine."
"Jinnie." you almost started crying from the overwhelming feelings, your lips quickly finding his. Hyunjin was a little awkward, unsure of himself and scared that he'll hurt you or do something wrong but he was still gentle, trying to put you first even though he was more excited than ever to have you like this and be connected with you.
"I have condoms in the drawer." you pointed at the nightstand and he narrowed his eyes at you.
"You were planning this?" his face became as red as a tomato.
"I mean, yeah." you nodded, the color of your cheeks matching his. "I've wanted this with you for some time but I was nervous to tell you." you admitted.
"You're so cute, bunny." Hyunjin giggled, caressing your cheek gently with his knuckles.
"Ugh." you groaned in embarrassment while he kept chuckling, reaching for the drawer.
The moment he started pushing in, the world around you disappeared and you were concentrated only on him.
"Does it hurt?" Hyunjin asked as he kept filling you up gently.
"A little." you gasped, it was definitely a bigger stretch than his fingers.
"I'm sorry." he looked guilty immediately. "Do you want me to stop?"
"N-no. Keep going." you whispered, holding onto his upper back.
Hyunjin's eyes fluttered shut when he bottomed out inside you, his entire body was buzzing, his heart was beating fast and he was trying to gather all the mental and physical strength not to finish too quickly.
"Y/n." he gasped when he finally opened his eyes and looked at you, a sweet lovestruck expression on your face, your eyes sparkling, all for him, all his.
"Hyunjin." you moaned at the way he felt inside you and the way he looked at you, like you hung all the stars in the sky just for him.
"I adore you, bunny." Hyunjin said gently and your heart bursted right then and there.
"I adore you too." you whispered back.
He slowly started moving inside you, whispering words of love and praise the entire time as you clutched onto him and returned his praises.
You've never felt like that before, completely and utterly loved by him, connected with him.
Which made it harder for you to give him the news you were supposed to tomorrow after prom.
Present time
You were rudely awakened at 5am when the rooster in your nana's backyard started crowing loudly.
"Ugh!" you forgot about all the charms of living in a village as you grabbed the pillow and put it over your face, a muffled 'shut up' pressed into it. You waited for a few moments, throwing the pillow aside and turning to your left, coming face to face with the teddy bear Hyunjin gave you, which of course you named 'Jinnie' back then, making your boyfriend laugh adoringly at you.
"Good morning, Jinnie." you said to the teddy, pulling the plushie closer to you as you hugged it and sighed. "Guess I should get up." you added with a shrug before stretching and then getting up.
You opened up your wardrobe, choosing to wear a red dress with a dainty floral print on it and got ready in your room, listening to music just like you did every day before school or a date with your boyfriend years ago. You opened up another drawer in your table and gasped when you saw the corsage that Hyunjin gave to you when he came to pick you up before prom.
You clutched it in your hand and thought back to that night, when Hyunjin came to pick you up.
Six years ago
To say Hyunjin was nervous was an understatement. He felt as if every atom of his being was about to burst into little pieces when he rang your doorbell. He was a wreck as he kept wiping his sweaty palms against his jacket, annoyed at the fact that no matter how many deep breaths he took, his heart was still hammering against his chest, ready to burst. Why was he so nervous? It was just you, his little bunny.
Oh, but he wasn't ready and he was right to be so nervous because as soon as your grandma opened the door with a smile, ushering him in, his eyes landed on you and they widened. Hyunjin felt as if the world stopped spinning, all the clocks stopped ticking, his heart quit beating and his breath got stuck in his throat. You became the only center of gravity, pulling him in towards you and nothing else around the two of you mattered.
He was completely and utterly floored and whipped for you.
Hyunjin finally understood the meaning of the word 'breathtaking' because that was the only thing that came to mind as you smiled at him so beautifully, so in love, so happy, wearing the most gorgeous dress he'd ever seen you in.
"Y/n." was the only thing he managed to say and you chuckled, your heart swelling at his reaction.
It was your turn to gawk as he came closer to you, you'd never seen him wearing a suit before and he looked even more handsome than he ever did. Your knees buckled when he stood close to you, the smell of his cologne was intoxicating but his lovestruck smile was even more mesmerizing.
Your grandparents smiled lovingly at the two of you before glancing at each other knowingly as Hyunjin gave you your corsage, gently putting it on your wrist. So many pictures were taken before you had to rush out so you wouldn't be late to the dance.
The night was magical and everything seemed possible under the fairy lights as Hyunjin and you swayed to the gentle melody of the familiar song coming from the speakers.
"Do you want to slip out after our song?" Hyunjin's plump lips brushed against your ear as he pulled you tighter into his heated body.
"Won't the chaperones notice?" you asked as you looked up at him only to find him smirking.
"We'll be stealthy." he said and you giggled.
"Right, stealthy."
"Yes, see I didn't even step on your foot!"
"Not yet." you teased him and Hyunjin pouted, whining and burying his face in your shoulder.
"Mean bunny." he tickled your sides, making you squirm and squeal.
"Fine, sorry." you giggled, knowing he wasn't actually offended. "You did a great job." you added and Hyunjin looked up at you with a sweet smile, his cheeks rosy.
"Thank you, doll. You did too." he smirked, brushing his lips against yours.
You managed to sneak out somehow while everyone was dancing to a quicker beat and you knew exactly where you were going; to your favorite spot with Hyunjin, the path to it so familiar that you could walk through it blind, the soil remembering all your footsteps.
"Hyune, um... I'm wearing heels." you whispered as he shined the path ahead with a little pocket flashlight.
"Oh, right." he thought for a moment before kneeling down. "Get on my back, doll."
"Are you sure?" you asked and he chuckled.
"Of course." he nodded eagerly and you climbed up on his back, feeling light and happy, giggles spilling from both of your lips. "Hold this." Hyunjin gave you the light and you shined it ahead as he gripped the back of your thighs and carried you.
Being a little tease, Hyunjin pretended he was going to drop you a few times only to have you almost scream as your arms wrapped tighter around him.
"Stop that!" you whined.
"Sorry, sorry bunny. I'll stop. You're just so cute." he smirked.
"If you weren't carrying me right now, you'd be in big trouble." you scolded and Hyunjin let out a laugh, your favorite tree coming into view.
"Yes, I know. Biiiig trouble." he kept chuckling and you were this close to biting his shoulder.
"Here we are, bunny." he gently put you down and wrapped his arm around you as the two of you stared at the carving in the trunk.
Hyunjin + Y/n.
Both of you laughed then, you had carved your names in when you were barely 16 and seeing it now was equally as embarrassing as it was sweet.
"Y/n?"
"Yeah?" you looked up at Hyunjin and he smiled sweetly at you.
"I promise I'll love you forever." he whispered, lifting his pinky and you giggled.
"I promise I'll love you forever too, my sweet Jinnie." you whispered back, your pinky curling around his.
Hyunjin chuckled in delight and pulled you into a sweet kiss.
You didn't have the heart to tell him you got into uni and would be leaving the village in September.
Present time
You had to go visit the tree.
"Fuck." you cursed, angrily wiping your tears away, before putting the corsage back into the drawer and slamming it shut.
Too many memories.
You quickly made your way downstairs where your nana was already serving breakfast.
"Oh, I thought you'd be sleeping more, dear." she lifted her brows in surprise.
"I thought so too." you joked, giving her a pointed look and she laughed.
"I see you forgot how it is here." nana shook her head. "When you haven't been around for so long."
"I'm sorry." you grimaced, sitting down to eat with her. "I know I should've visited more. I got caught up in studies and work and-"
"Breathe, dear." your grandma squeezed your hand with a chuckle. "It's not me who you should be explaining this to."
You gulped, knowing she was referring to Hyunjin.
"Where's grandpa?" you asked.
"He's out back, working."
"I was thinking of going for a walk before lunch. I'll make sure to come back though to help out."
"Sure, dear. You haven't been here for so long, you should catch up with the place and the people." grandma nodded with a wink and that was exactly what you planned to do.
It was around 7am when you finally walked out of the house, inhaling the fresh air you were deprived of in the big city. It was a bit chilly in the morning so you draped a light jacket over your shoulders and let your legs lead you through the familiar streets.
You still didn't want to see Hyunjin so you went the opposite direction of his house, trying to stick to the shadows for now, just to have a little more peace to yourself and mentally prepare for the inevitable encounters of everyone you grew up with.
It was painful. Walking all the familiar paths you walked through before with him, it was as if you could hear his laughter echoing down the street. Your heart squeezed in your chest when you realized just where your legs had taken you.
The tree.
It was still there, as tall as ever, its branches familiar as you and Hyunjin had laid under them multiple times, kissing, talking, laughing, holding each other close. You walked closer, your eyes brimming with tears when you saw the carving. Hyunjin + Y/n. Forever.
The word you had added that night after prom.
You cursed yourself mentally for crying again and being so overcome with emotions. You couldn't stand there for too long and were about to leave when something caught your eye. Another carving, smaller and almost unnoticeable on the right side of yours. You leaned in closer to inspect it and your heart almost stopped.
Hyunjin.
Nothing else, just his name was carved into the wood and you felt fresh tears forming in your eyes. Leaving was definitely a mistake, maybe the biggest mistake you ever made, especially after the let down you experienced in the city. You wiped your tears away again and decided to leave the tree be, your heart hurting at the thought of Hyunjin sitting under the branches alone, carving his name and wondering why you had never called back or came to see him. You walked away, back down the path and into the village, deep in your thoughts. Lost in the memories of what once was you didn't even realize where you came, as your legs walked on autopilot.
Only when the familiar light blue house came into view, you snapped from your thoughts, eyes wide and heart dropping into your stomach.
"Shit!" you whisper-yelled. This was the only house you wanted to avoid and yet you were standing right in front of it. As far as you knew, Hyunjin's parents didn't live there anymore, he was living in the big house completely alone, his only companions his animals.
Your knees almost gave out as you stared, before getting spooked when you heard barking. A big black dog ran to the fence, barking at you in warning. You had never seen it before so Hyunjin must've gotten it after you went to the city. You backed away as the dog kept barking at you in a not-so-friendly manner. You turned and started walking away, hoping Hyunjin didn't hear that or wasn't home because you still weren't ready to see him let alone talk to him.
Then, you heard a familiar voice.
"Easy girl, easy." you assumed he was talking to the dog as the barking subsided immediately and you stopped in your tracks.
"Well, well." you heard then. "If it isn't little bunny."
Your heart leaped out of your chest. You hadn't heard that nickname in years.
"Don't even wanna say hi?" Hyunjin continued and you heard the sound of the little fence door opening. Slowly, you turned around and basically almost fainted.
This wasn't your sweet, shy and little Jinnie. You almost didn't recognize him as you stared at him with eyes wide and mouth agape.
His long hair was gone, replaced by a neat buzzcut that was also bleached, he had piercings on his ears, his arms were big and muscular, a few tattoos here and there, visible in the tanktop he wore. He looked taller, bigger, more manly. Your knees buckled and the more you looked at him the more you felt lightheaded.
Hyunjin smirked, noticing how you were salivating and a little chuckle escaped his lips.
"Gonna catch flies like that." he teased and you closed your mouth, attempting to compose yourself as you stood up straighter. His eyes then traveled all over your frame, the teasing glint inside them turning into something softer until they fell on the necklace and he felt as if the ground underneath his feet almost gave out.
You were still wearing it. Just like he was, his half heart hidden under his top.
"Hi." you said quietly. "You look different."
"A lot can change in six years." he stated, still keeping a good distance away from you.
"It can." you stepped back, feeling suffocated by his presence as you tried to read his face and tone of voice. Was there anger? Regret? Did he resent you?
"You're different too." a small smile appeared on his lips.
"How so?" you tilted your head to the left, thinking how you pretty much looked the same since the end of high school.
"You've gotten even more beautiful." Hyunjin said like it was nothing and you were sure you were having a heart attack in that moment.
"I- That- Thank you." you had no idea what to say. "I have to go... Help nana with lunch. And stuff."
Hyunjin smiled wider.
"I'll see you later then, bunny."
"Sure." you turned around so quickly that you almost snapped your neck. Hyunjin watched with bathed breath as you scurried away from him.
You finally came back.
-
"Did you see Hyunjin?" nana asked as you helped her clean around the kitchen after lunch.
"Accidentally, yes." you said and she chuckled.
"I never understood why you broke up, you two are made for each other." she said and you almost dropped the plate you were holding.
"We didn't... actually break up. I just left."
"I thought you were still together back then, I was wondering why he never went to visit you or you him. I only realized you weren't together once he asked me if I knew where you lived in the city. Which I forgot the address, dear, so I hope I didn't do anything wrong by not telling him."
"No, no, nana. You did nothing wrong. It was my fault. I thought I was doing the right thing. But I'm not so sure anymore." your eyes welled up with tears as you clutched onto the counter.
"Oh, honey." your grandma was instantly by your side.
"I told him I would come back. I wouldn't be surprised if he hated me now and wanted nothing to do with me." you sniffled as nana wiped your tears away.
"Oh dear, Hyunjin doesn't hate you. He talks very fondly of you always. That boy still loves you."
"He- He does?" you thought back to your encounter today.
"A love like that doesn't disappear overnight. Or over the span of six years." your grandma teased, making you chuckle through your tears.
"If you say so."
"Talk to him. He is coming to dinner tonight anyways." she announced.
"He is what?!" you almost yelled.
"He usually joins us for dinner. At least a few days in the week."
You panicked immediately.
"I have to go get ready then!"
Nana bursted into laughter as she watched you frantically run up the stairs.
"What was that about?" grandpa came in, looking up at the metaphorical dust that you left behind after running.
"Oh you know. Love." grandma winked at him and he shook his head with a smile.
Shit.
Hyunjin is coming over for dinner. You had to look your best.
You've gotten even more beautiful.
His words rang in your head and your cheeks became red instantly, heart beating hard in your chest. You quickly opened your wardrobe and began throwing clothes everywhere, your room soon looking as if a tornado had passed through it. You tried on multiple outfits but with every single one you found something wrong. The color was too bright, the shirt was too big, the pants looked weird...
So you settled on another dress, a pretty and white flowy one with yellow flowers on it, the shape of it accentuating your frame, your bare legs on display. You decided to wear heels too and put on some makeup. You were so nervous as if you hadn't already been his.
While you were doing your hair, you stared into your reflection and remembered that warm summer night when you told Hyunjin you were leaving.
Six years ago
Hyunjin and you sat on a blanket, staring up at the stars shimmering in the dark sky.
"Jinnie." you swallowed nervously.
"Yes, bunny?" he smiled, playing with your fingers.
"I have something to tell you."
"Oh? Okay." he nodded, sitting up.
"Um. It's been weighing on me since prom."
"You sound serious." Hyunjin's expression turned into one of worry.
"It is serious. And I didn't tell you earlier because I was afraid of how you'd react." your heart started beating fast. "I got into my uni of choice."
"Bunny! You did?" he smiled wide. "Why didn't you tell me that? You know I support you and I'm proud of you."
"I know. It's just that... I'm leaving and I don't know when I'll be back." you said. "We talked about this briefly before but... I don't want to stay in the village. There is nothing for me here, I mean career wise. Meanwhile... You decided to work with your father and build your life here."
Hyunjin's smile dropped.
"What are you saying?" his voice sounded strained.
"Are we... Are we breaking up?" he asked, tears forming in his eyes.
"No. No. I don't want to. I don't know." you bit your lip and looked away from him.
"Y/n. Please, don't do this. I've known no one but you my whole life. You're the one I love and the one I promised forever to. We even talked about building a life together, getting married, having kids."
"I know, I know. You're my first love, Jinnie. And those were all nice daydreams but there comes a time when you need to grow up."
"Daydreams? Bunny. Those were plans." his bottom lip trembled and he frowned. "This really sounds like you're breaking up with me."
"No, no." tears started spilling down your cheeks when you saw the hurt in his eyes and realized how harsh your words sounded. "Just... I'm confused. I don't know what to do." you put your hands over your face, a sob escaping your lips.
Hyunjin's eyes softened and he put his hand on your upper back, gently caressing you.
"Hey, look. I know you're scared now, this is a big change. But, we'll figure it out together. You go finish your studies, do what you always wanted to. But please don't throw away what we have. I'll always wait for you, I'll wait until you come visit or I can visit you. We can call each other, we don't have to grow apart in order for you to grow."
"I guess not." his words hit you hard as you looked up at him.
"Don't cry, baby. I love you and I'm so happy for you. I'm so proud of my little bunny." he talked, wiping your tears away.
"Jinnie. I love you too." you clutched onto his shirt and cried into his chest.
Oh, how you were going to miss him.
Present time
But after you left, you never even contacted him.
You knew how cruel that was but you thought it was for the best. If you were going to build a life in the city and he was going to stay behind in the village, it was better off like this.
Childhood crushes and high school sweethearts don't always last, do they?
But, your heart hurt so badly every day you were away from Hyunjin. You wanted to forget him, stop loving him but you couldn't no matter how hard you tried. Every time you thought you were ready to take off the couple necklace, your hands would stop functioning. You couldn't bring yourself to do that, the necklace felt as if it was a part of you and despite being away from Hyunjin you knew your heart would always belong to him.
With a sigh, you finished getting ready, wondering if he could really still love you after you'd hurt him like that.
Before you could come down, you heard voices under your window and you stalked towards it curiously. It was closed so you couldn't understand what they were saying but Hyunjin stood there with your grandpa, his back turned to you. You gasped a little, noticing then how his shoulders and upper back also got wider, the black shirt he wore almost ripping at the seams.
"Give me strength." you prayed to whoever was listening before you decided to stop hiding and finally made your way downstairs.
"Yes, I'll definitely ask Chan to help out with the fence, I think he won't be busy this weekend." Hyunjin said to your grandpa as they walked into the kitchen.
"Great! That's settled then!" grandpa clapped his hands with a satisfied smile. Hyunjin looked up at you then and stopped walking, giving you the elevator eyes.
"Good evening." he smirked a little.
"Evening." you said breathlessly and you grandma chuckled.
"Why are you two acting so formal?" grandpa asked as you sat down.
"Leave them be. They just encountered each other after a long time." nana scolded him and he gave a little shrug.
Hyunjin was sitting right across from you and you felt as if there was nowhere to hide. He kept looking at you curiously and you felt so awkward, trying to avoid his eyes as all of you started taking food out on the plates and eating.
Hyunjin couldn't calm his heart down. All the feelings that he carried inside of him every single day, from dawn to late night, were now amplified a thousand times. All those nights he had thought about you and seen you in his dreams couldn't compare to you actually being in front of him. He couldn't tear his eyes away from you, he missed you deeply. The love he always had for you never subsided, it only grew more even while you were apart.
Though, he knew that there were things the two of you needed to talk about, he decided not to think about the hurtful side of it, tossing it in the back of his mind as he continued to bask in your presence. Your hair, your eyes, your smile, your hands, the way your brows creased when you asked a question to your nana, the way you looked up at him timidly only to look away, the way you nervously chewed on your bottom lip, the way that necklace he gave you laid on your skin, still there, as if you had never left, a sign that you perhaps still loved him as much as he loved you.
"So, how is the city treating ya?" Hyunjin asked you suddenly, eyes trained on you as they have been the entire evening.
"It's... okay." you answered but Hyunjin knew you were lying. He knew when you wore a fake smile and he knew the tone of your voice once you tried to convince yourself you're fine.
"Oh yeah? Got that job you always wanted, hm?" he asked and you looked up at him, trying to see if he was mocking you or resenting you but he looked genuinely curious.
"I did." you answered shortly, a knot forming in your stomach. "I got what I wanted." you forced another smile.
"I'm glad you did." he smiled and you felt the urge to cry again. You wondered what was wrong with you and shook your head, trying to will yourself to smile back at him.
"I always thought the two of you would get married." your nana chimed in, making you almost choke on a piece of bread. Hyunjin chuckled and looked at you.
"We're still young." he smirked a little and you started praying that the floor opens up and swallows you whole.
"You two remind me of us when we were younger." grandpa nodded with a smile.
No, you thought, please stop.
You were really going to start crying.
"Excuse me. I need some air." you stood up abruptly, the chair almost falling over behind you.
Hyunjin watched as you ran out of the front door and he stood up too, excusing himself and following you.
You stood on the porch, hugging yourself and sniffling.
"Y/n?" Hyunjin approached you cautiously. You quickly wiped your tears away with the sleeve of your cardigan before turning to look at him.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Sure." you nodded but he knew you were crying.
"You wanna take a walk?" Hyunjin asked, biting on his lip and you chuckled, shaking your head.
"Yeah, why not." you nodded, maybe it was time to stop avoiding him.
You didn't even discuss where you were going to go, you just started walking together in the same direction you always did while you grew up here. It was quiet for a while, only the song of the crickets filling up your ears, a few distant barks and the breeze rustling through the leaves.
"So, what have you been doing?" you asked, trying to break the ice. You couldn't believe you felt so awkward with someone you could talk to the easiest with, out of anyone in your entire life.
"Me? Oh, you know... Working around the farm. I repaired the entire house with some of my mates. It was in a really bad shape, if you remember. We re-did everything, even the roofing and the pipes. Repainted the entire place, changed the furniture... So, it's now like a new house. And I have horses and chickens. A garden. I mean, I work all day, help out others too." he chuckled. "My parents are in the city, they visit sometimes. But, mostly I'm here with Rina, she has been my best friend for three years now."
"Rina?" your stomach dropped instantly.
"Yes, that overprotective black dog that barked at you." Hyunjin smirked at your expression.
"Oh... That's Rina." you said absentmindedly, finally glancing at him.
Your heart stopped.
The necklace. He must've unbuttoned one more button while you were walking, making the other half of the heart visible under his collarbone. He never stopped wearing it either. Suddenly, your stomach filled up with butterflies.
"She's wary of strangers coming near me."
Ouch.
"Yeah." you turned away, the butterflies turning into a feeling of nausea.
"I mean, strangers to her." Hyunjin clarified, realizing how he sounded.
"Yeah, I understand." you gave him a smile you hoped looked real, because you were seconds away from crying. "You still paint?" you decided to change the subject.
"Oh yeah, all the time." he smiled. "Enough about me. What about you?"
"Me? I also work all day. In the office. It's... interesting, I guess. I bought an apartment recently, it's really modern." you talked, realizing how empty your words sounded then. You had no idea what to tell Hyunjin. He had all these projects and people who care about him, animals he cares for and his hobbies. Meanwhile, all you had was a job you ended up hating and no one to come home to.
"I travel a lot." you added, trying to fill up the silence. "For work but also for fun, with some of my coworkers. We went all the way to Bali last year. It was a fun trip, you know. Stuff like that."
"Sounds exhilarating." Hyunjin said, sounding anything but. "Anyone special in your life?"
Why did he ask that.
"No, nobody." you quickly answered.
Hyunjin was hoping you'd say that.
"Good. I mean- Me neither." he coughed awkwardly and stopped walking. You were about to ask why he stopped when you noticed where you were.
"Oh." you let out a chuckle, your face warming up.
You hadn't even realized you came to the only park in the village, and not just that, you were standing in front of your and Hyunjin's bench, where you used to sit after school, talking and kissing.
And well, you sat here on many evenings just like this one, making out. Your face started burning suddenly.
"Shall we sit?" Hyunjin asked and you nodded reluctantly as you felt like you were going to throw up from nerves. The two of you sat down, the silence stretching between you again.
"I-" Hyunjin opened his mouth, then closed them, repeating the action a few times, his brows furrowing and cheeks rosy, his hands gripping the edge of the bench like he was struggling to get his words out. You were almost swallowed by the nerves you felt in that moment, you were scared that he was going to tell you off, just what you deserve.
"I tried to find you." he let out a shaky exhale. "You covered up your tracks pretty well." he scoffed. "I mean, I got the message. You didn't want to see me ever again. And I'd be fine with that if only you gave me a reason, told me why you just disappeared from my life when you've been a part of it since forever. I thought for some time that you have completely abandoned me. But, somewhere deep in my soul I knew you'd be back one day, Y/n."
"Hyunjin..." your bottom lip trembled as your eyes watered. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I made a huge mistake. And I would totally understand if you hated me or resented me and never wanted to forgive me. Just know I felt bad the entire time and I still do." you were full on crying and feeling embarrassed, you looked away from Hyunjin.
"I could never hate you, little bunny." his voice sounded soft and you willed yourself to look at him while you wiped your tears away even though they kept coming. "And I forgave you a long time ago." he whispered. You noticed he was sitting closer to you and your body trembled.
"You did? Why?" you asked quietly.
"Because it's you." he answered simply and you felt annoyed, wanting to hear more. But, before you could ask Hyunjin stood up abruptly.
"Let's meet up tomorrow. Have a picnic like we always used to." he said and you stood up too.
You stared at him and kept thinking, could things go back to how they were before?
You felt as if there was something he wasn't telling you yet, there was no way he forgave you so easily for abandoning him.
"What do you say?" Hyunjin looked at you hopefully.
"Sure. Yeah." you nodded, your body swirling with feelings of confusion, excitement, nostalgia, happiness, sadness... You had no idea how to explain it.
"Great. I'll come to your house around 10am."
"Sounds good."
"Let me walk you home." he added, the two of you walking and talking about the village, who stayed and who moved, which new stores opened and all the other insignificant little things just to avoid the big elephant that needed to be addressed.
"I'll see you tomorrow, bunny." Hyunjin put his hands in his jeans pockets, trying to look nonchalant.
"See you." you hurried inside.
"And that smile?" your nana's voice scared you.
"Oh, nana! Ugh, nothing. I'm just going to see Hyunjin tomorrow." you answered quickly.
"Oh. Hyunjin." she smirked knowingly. "Well, have a good night." she winked before leaving to her room.
You hoped you were going to be able to sleep tonight.
You managed to sleep through the rooster's wake up call, opening your eyes just in time to get ready for your picnic date.
Was it a date? You had no idea what was going to happen but still you wore another pretty dress and put on your makeup. You decided to wear extra shiny lipgloss to make your lips stand out, hopefully get Hyunjin's attention. You felt giddy, like you were that same school girl meeting up her boyfriend, the love of her life.
"Oh, dear you look so pretty." your grandma noted when you came downstairs.
"Thank you, nana." you smiled.
"Are you gonna eat anything?"
"No, Hyunjin told me not to worry and that he'd bring everything."
"Okay, well have fun you two!" she winked at you and you kissed her cheek before skipping out of the house and towards the street where Hyunjin said he'd wait for you.
He wasn't there yet so you stood in place, shifting from foot to foot and wondering why he is late since he'd always been punctual. It was already almost 10:15 and you were beginning to think he had played a cruel joke on you. You were already tearing up at the thought of that but maybe you deserved it after the way you treated him.
You were about to turn around and leave but you heard heavy footsteps running towards you.
"Y/n! I'm so sorry for being late!" it was a breathless Hyunjin, leaning his palms against his knees as he scrunched his face up and tried to calm his heart. "I ran into Chan on the way and he needed help carrying some things, I couldn't say no." he swallowed, straightening up.
Just then you noticed the backpack on his shoulders and the thin sheen of sweat forming on his forehead, the tanktop was there again and your eyes followed all the veins popping out.
"Oh, it's okay." you shook your head, feeling stupid.
"Shall we?" he smiled and you nodded, letting him lead the way. His eyes lingered on your lips for a while as he bit on his, before starting to walk. It was clear to you where you were going, the tree was your picnic and stargazing spot for years.
"I saw you by the tree the other day." Hyunjin said, putting his backpack down and opening it.
"Oh? You did?" your heart climbed up your throat.
"Yeah." he smiled. " I thought I was hallucinating."
You chuckled, feeling the need to smack his arm like you always did when he made you laugh but you refrained from doing so.
"Nope, I'm here." you said, helping him put the blanket down.
"I'm glad you are." he said and the two of you sat down, Hyunjin taking everything that he had packed out; fruit salad, sandwiches, coffee. You didn't feel like you deserved this. You wanted to ask him so many things. Like why did he carve his name alone in the tree trunk, why did he seem so normal about all of this, why didn't he just yell at you, like any other person would after being hurt.
"Hyunjin?" you gulped, poking around the plastic container with the fruit. He gave you an unreadable look, his brows furrowing.
"Why do you keep calling me that?" he said and you chuckled nervously.
"Well, that's your name."
"Yeah but you always called me nicknames. Like Jinnie or Hyune. And other things." he looked at the field of flowers swaying in front of you.
You hadn't answered so he turned to look at you.
"Why aren't you yelling at me or cursing me out?" you asked and Hyunjin's eyes widened a little.
"Why would I do that?" he tilted his head.
"Because I promised I'd love you forever and I left. I didn't even come back for six years, I thought I was doing a good thing. That I'd be better off in the city and you'd be better off without me. That I'd be able to move on and forget you. I thought I'd never come back here but after what happened-" your shut your lips tightly, eyes watering. "After being disappointed with everything I thought I wanted in my life, I came back here and expected to see that you moved on or even gotten married. I expected you to hate me, yell at me, curse at me. But here we are, sitting under our tree, having a picnic like I never broke your heart and mine." you were now full on crying, your bottom lip trembling and hands shaking.
Hyunjin observed you with a wistful look in his eyes before smiling softly.
"You wanna know why I'm not yelling or cursing at you?" he said, leaning closer to you.
"W-why?" you stuttered, he got into your private space and even though he changed and grew, he still had that comforting scent of Hyunjin, the one that brought you so much comfort and nostalgia.
"Because of this." he reached towards you and gently gripped the pendant of your necklace between his fingertips. "You're still wearing our necklace. And that tells me everything I need to know. Bunny, I've known you my whole life, I've loved you my whole life. I knew you wouldn't be happy in the city and I knew you'd come back here to me one day. I know that because we were made for each other and because I could feel you inside me every day. I just knew our story wasn't over, it was just beginning."
You were at a loss of words, crying and sobbing as Hyunjin talked, feeling embarrassed and also like you wanted to roll down the hill from excitement. You wiped at your face, trying not to screw up the makeup you worked so hard on while letting his words settle inside your head.
"Oh my god, Hyunjin!" you shrieked suddenly, grabbing onto his arm on accident.
"Y/n." he laughed as you kept squealing and gripping at his bicep while a little bee flew around your body. "It's just a bee, don't be scared."
"Please, make it go away." you whined.
"What can I do, a bee found a pretty flower." Hyunjin smirked at you then and you looked up at him with your eyes squinted before slapping his arm. The loud sound made you jolt a little and you looked down at the muscle, something fluttering inside you. Your cheeks warmed up instantly. Hyunjin smirked, his other hand cupping your jaw gently as he made you look at him.
"You didn't break your promise, doll. You still love me." he smiled.
"I do." you confessed quietly and his eyes sparkled a little as he leaned in closer. His eyes fluttered, his cheeks became rosy and his warm breath caressed your lips. You jolted away suddenly, afraid and you had no idea why.
"I'm sorry!" you said quickly, placing your palm over your heart. Hyunjin looked a little confused, his fingers twitching as his hands longed to comfort you in any way they could.
"I got nervous." you said and Hyunjin laughed.
"Don't laugh at me!" you whined with a pout, kicking your feet a little and that made him laugh even harder. "Stop it." you crossed your arms over your chest with a little huff escaping your lips.
"You're just so cute, bunny." how many times has he told you that and it still made your heart flutter. "It's okay. I waited for you for six years, I can wait a little more."
"I just didn't expect things to go like this." you swallowed and Hyunjin scooted closer to you, tentatively touching your fingertips with his. That was enough for you to feel the electricity running through your body.
"I understand. We'll fall back into us in no time."
"You think so?" you asked, inching closer to him, your fingers now playing with his.
"I know so." he smiled confidently. "Just have to ask one question."
"Anything." you nodded.
"Are you back for good or just the anniversary?"
You looked down and took in a deep breath.
"Please don't tell this to my grandparents yet. But I am back for good. I quit my job and sold my apartment, I didn't tell them anything because I am just waiting for the right moment." your voice trembled.
"Didn't something happen?" Hyunjin asked, leaning down to look at your face.
"Just... People were disgusting. The job was depressing. The apartment was cold. The city was lonely. And maybe a part of me hoped you'd be here waiting for me no matter how selfish that is. Because, I don't think I could ever stop loving you, Jinnie. Even if someone wiped away my entire memory I would still have you engraved inside my heart."
"Bunny." Hyunjin cupped your cheeks. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone anything. I'm sad you went through all of that but it brought you back here, didn't it?"
You nodded.
"And I am glad it did." he leaned in again.
"Ack! The bee!" you squealed as the little creature came back to buzzing around you.
"Silly." Hyunjin chuckled under his breath, 'shielding' you from the scary bee.
You felt as if a stone has been lifted off of your heart as the two of you continued catching up and reminiscing of the good old days. Hours passed by so quickly that you almost didn't realize it was lunch time.
"Nana is expecting me at home for lunch. Do you wanna join us?" you asked with a timid smile.
"I'd love to but Chan invited me to his house for lunch today. We'll come to you tomorrow, he is also excited to see you again, you know that you were always like a little sister to him."
"Oh, I'm excited to see him too." you chuckled.
You couldn't believe that everyone has welcomed you with open arms after you left like that and you were still trying to come to terms that you won't be going back to the city ever again.
When Hyunjin said him and Chan would come around to help your grandpa repair the fence out back, you totally forgot about the fact that Hyunjin would be in a sleeveless top, flexing his muscles and wiping away his sweat constantly. Summer was knocking at the door and the sun was high in the sky. You wore the red dress from the first day, the one Hyunjin stared at so intently when you stood outside of his house. When Chan saw you he made a funny squealing noise, running up to you and picking you up as if you were paper doll, spinning you around as you screamed at him to put you down.
"Aww little Y/n is back!" he pinched your cheeks and you smacked his hands away with a pout.
"I'm only three years younger than you, bro." you emphasized and he laughed.
"I'm glad to see you here. I was beginning to think our Hyunjinnie would die alone." he smirked and Hyunjin punched his side with his fist mumbling a 'shut up or else' and you let out a laugh.
"Congrats on getting married, old man." you smirked and Hyunjin was glad you teased Chan back, a snicker escaping his lips.
"Didn't you say a moment ago it was only three years difference?" he smirked back and you exhaled, rolling your eyes playfully.
"Enough chit-chat. Time to work, boys." you chuckled, sitting at the table your granparents put in the backyard. It was placed under a tree that gave a good shade to it, so it wasn't as hot as it would be but for you it felt like you were enveloped by the sun itself.
Hyunjin was working in the sunlight, his soft skin glistening with sweat almost making him look ethereal and unreal. His muscles were flexing constantly as he moved and lifted stuff up, the veins popping out and now visible everywhere on his arms, hands and even his neck. You were feeling very hot and bothered, feeling like you couldn't breathe properly as your legs pressed together. He glanced at you a few times and you saw the little smirk on his face.
He was provoking you on purpose, the little tease.
Two can play this game, you thought and got up, entering the house so you could find a little towel. You took that time to put on more lipgloss and adjust your dress so your cleavage was more visible.
"There." you nodded to yourself with a smirk before walking back outside and straight towards Hyunjin.
"It's hot, isn't it?" your voice sounded sweet, dripping with honey as you hovered over him where he kneeled, working on the fence. He looked up at you, covering his forehead with his hand so the sun doesn't get into his eyes. His mouth went dry instantly, your bare thighs were right in front of his eyes and your chest on display as you leaned over him.
"Hot. Yes." he managed to say.
"Let me help you with that, Jinnie." you smirked, leaning down a little more as you started gently patting at his forehead, wiping the sweat off and he just sat there breathing heavily as you kept going lower, patting his neck now, noticing how he leaned into your touch, how his eyes fluttered and his breath hitched.
"Better?" you moved away suddenly and he snapped from his trance.
"Y-Yeah."
"Thirsty?" you asked, louder so Chan hears it too.
"Yes!" Chan yelled, his back turned to you thankfully.
You smirked as Hyunjin gulped, staring after you as you turned around towards the house to make some lemonade for the boys. Hyunjin couldn't stop staring at you when they took a break, munching on some cookies your nana made and drinking the fresh lemonade. His eyes fixated on your shiny lips and he longed to taste you once again. Chan kept yapping about his wife and farm enthusiastically and you kept nodding and chuckling all the while Hyunjin didn't even hear a word that came out of Chan's mouth.
It was almost sundown when the boys were done and nana invited them to stay over for dinner, ushering them both to first wash their hands thoroughly before touching any food. The atmosphere was warm and homely, a happy feeling swelling inside your chest. You were home, where you were always supposed to be, where you belonged, with Hyunjin.
"I'll be right back." you stood up after dinner, running upstairs to fix your makeup.
Hyunjin waited for a moment before he followed you to your room. You walked out of the bathroom when he appeared on the doorway, leaning there with a fond smile on his face.
"It looks like a time capsule in here." he looked around in wonder, taking a tentative step inside.
"You haven't been up here?" you asked, eyebrows raised as he looked around, taking in all the memories you two had created together.
"No, your grandparents kept it closed. There was no need for me to be here." Hyunjin's eyes lit up when he looked at your bed. "Jinnie! You kept him!" he pointed to your teddy bear, walking in and picking it up.
"Of course I did. I kept everything."
"Even those cute diaries?" Hyunjin smirked. "Dear diary, today Jinnie and I held hands for the first time as boyfriend and girlfriend. Everyone saw us walking to school together-"
"Shut up!" you squealed, ripping the teddy away from him and smacking him with it multiple times as he laughed at your red cheeks.
"What? It was cute." he giggled, slinking away from your attack.
"It's embarrassing. Even more because you still remember what I wrote. Are you sure you haven't been up here?" you teased, putting Jinnie back on the bed and walking to your table.
"I haven't since the last time we were here together." Hyunjin was behind you suddenly, his voice low as his lips brushed against your ear. You gasped, remembering the last night you spent here with him, on top of him as he guided your hips against his slowly, wanting to make it last as long as possible so you never forget how he feels.
"Right." you turned abruptly, the back of your thighs colliding with the table as he hovered over you, so close you could feel the warmth radiating off of his body.
He smelled so good even after working in the sun almost all day and his skin looked like it needed to be touched, kissed, bitten. A zap of electricity ran through your body as Hyunjin leaned in even closer, his breath mingling with yours. Your eyes fluttered shut and then-
"Come to the lake with me tomorrow afternoon." his lips almost brushed against yours before he leaned away, leaving you frustrated.
"What?" you were lost momentarily.
"The lake. Let's meet there." he said and straightened up.
"Sure." you said and he smirked devilishly.
Just what was he planning now?
"Well, I gotta go home make sure Rina has her dinner and walk. See you tomorrow, doll."
With that, he left your room, his scent lingering all around you, making you want to roll in it and have him close. You couldn't wait for tomorrow.
-
The lake wasn't too far away from your house either, only a 15 minute walk full of chatter and laughter. Your bare arm brushed against Hyunjin's a few times, making you feel like your skin burned whenever it touched his. It almost felt as if everything was going back to normal, like it was before but at the same time you couldn't ignore the things that had changed about Hyunjin.
It was clear; he was no longer a boy, he was a man.
The way he carried himself and the way he spoke was more confident and masculine than that shy awkward Jinnie that tripped over his feet and his words, his cheeks constantly red in your presence. But the way he looked at you full of adoration, that had never changed.
"What made you cut your hair?" you asked as the two of you approached the lake. Hyunjin's hand instanly ran over his head as he laughed.
"It's kinda hard to work with all that hair flying everywhere. It was a nuisance, really. And... You seemed to like it a lot, you always played with it, braided it... But when you left, I figured there was no point in keeping it so I shaved it off."
"Oh." you sighed.
"You don't like it?" he asked cutely, the two of you stopping near the lake.
"No, no, I do. It looks very manly." you said, your cheeks burning up. You didn't say how you thought it accentuated all his beautiful, sharp features, his jawline and his neck that was so enticing to you.
"It does, hm?" he smirked, leaning in closer.
"Yeah." you leaned back a little, your stomach doing flips.
Hyunjin snickered and leaned away with a smirk.
"I have a dare for you." he said and you raised your eyebrow at him.
Hyunjin looked around before smirking at you again, getting into your personal space.
"I dare you to swim naked with me." he said and you almost stopped functioning.
"What? Are you crazy?" you punched his arm but it was more just a tap to him as he didn't even budge, chuckling at you as he crossed his arms over his chest. God, his arms.
"It's not like I haven't seen it all anyways." he said and you gasped.
"Oh my god." you looked away from him, your heart beating hard. "Okay, but only if we leave our underwear on."
"Alright, deal." he smirked and took his shirt off, tossing it aside.
You shrieked, turning away from him because you weren't sure if your heart could take it. Hyunjin laughed, getting rid of his pants without a care in the world.
"Don't get shy, you saw it all." he said and you took a deep breath in before looking back at him.
It's all yours, Hyunjin thought but bit his tongue.
Your eyes went wide and your lips parted in a gasp. Hyunjin was always lean and athletic, but now he was even more chiseled, his thighs were more muscular too, all the little tattoos he had hidden were now visible to you. And the worse thing was that you could see the bulge in his boxers so you averted your eyes, feeling like you might've stopped breathing for a second or two.
"Your turn." he nodded at you with a knowing smirk and you scrambled to take off your dress, feeling embarrassed for some reason. You didn't wear any flashy underwear, just regular black panties and a matching bra that only had a few lacy flowers at the top. It was enough to make Hyunjin drool.
"Beautiful." he muttered quietly, it was your body that he knew very well, the one he mapped out with caresses and kisses, your skin that he marked with his teeth, you who he held in his arms countless times.
"What did you say?" you didn't hear him, shivering a little despite the sun still being up.
"Nothing." he smiled. "Let's get in the water."
You nodded and followed him as he got into the water first, hissing at the coldness before he reached his hands towards you to help you get in.
"Is it very cold?" you asked and he chuckled.
"We swam here multiple times, you know how cold the water is. Just get in, we'll warm up." he encouraged you.
"Fine." you rolled your eyes in fake annoyance as you grabbed onto his hands, warmth filling you up from the simple touch, even though the water was almost freezing cold.
"Motherfucker!" you hissed when it touched your stomach and Hyunjin laughed, dipping in and splashing you a little.
"Don't." you warned but it was to no avail, Hyunjin had that familiar mischievous look on his face, eyes sparkly and dimples showing as he lifted his hands and splashed you harder.
"Hyune!" you shrieked and returned the favor, splashing him back.
"Ah!" he screamed out, followed by a series of giggles as he shook his head and rubbed his hands over his face. "I'll get you for that." he added, swimming towards you.
Another squeal left your lips as you dipped in and started swimming away, Hyunjin's laughter ringing behind you. How you missed the sound of that. Just as you thought you got away from him, you felt his hands grabbing at your waist as he pulled you closer to him, the water splashing loudly as you flailed your arms and screamed, giggling. His strong arms wrapped around your middle and he pulled you flush against his body, skin against skin and you melted, grabbing onto his hands and resting your palms over them.
"I missed you like crazy." his lips brushed against the side of your neck. "You have no idea just how much." they pressed gently into your skin.
"I missed you too." your voice came out breathy as Hyunjin kissed the droplets of water rolling down your neck.
"Yeah? Show me how much." he turned you around so quickly that you gasped and grabbed onto his shoulders.
You wanted to say something, anything but you were already too far gone so you wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he wrapped his around your waist and pulled you into him. It was as if every atom of your being craved to be close to him, starved for years and now finally feeding the hunger and need you had for Hyunjin.
No matter how many time Hyunjin held you, it always made your stomach flip and it was no different now. You felt how hard his heart was beating against his chest and his eyes darkened just a little as he observed you. Your hand touched the back of his head, fingertips pressing against the soft, fuzzy buzzcut. His eyes fluttered and he leaned in, the tip of his nose brushing yours gently before his lips touched yours.
Everything came back. The first time you saw Hyunjin shyly smiling at you when you were five, the times you did your homework together after class only to end up playing instead of learning, the times you walked through the entire village, like it was all yours, the park, the lake, the street, the tree. The first kiss you shared that was timid and awkward but still sweet because it was with him, the times he held you close, loving you, deep inside you and wrapped around you, all the time he was there for you, holding your hand, wiping your tears away, making plans of the future he wanted to share with you. It was your Jinnie.
The only man you ever loved.
"Bunny, what's wrong?" you didn't even realize you were crying and Hyunjin cupped your face gently with his cold hands.
"I love you." you said, lifting the last of the weight. Hyunjin's body trembled against you.
"I love you." he whispered on your lips, kissing you harder as you pressed as close as you could to each other.
"You really don't resent me for leaving?" you asked when you parted for air.
"No, bunny, I know you just wanted to finish your studies, try your hand at a career like that. I mean, you could've done all that with me by your side even if it was a long distance relationship. You know I would support you. But, I get it. You thought you'd never come back here and that I would never leave."
"Hyunjin, I'm sorry." you cried again. "I don't deserve you."
"Shh, yes you do. Yes you do, bunny. You know me better than anyone, you were there for me always whenever I was going through a hard time."
"I wasn't there for the last six years."
"You're here now." Hyunjin kissed you again in an attempt to soothe you and distract you and it was working as you melted against his lips, soon forgetting about everything that was bothering you as the world disappeared like it always did with him.
Hyunjin's tongue collided with yours, the familiar taste of him waking up all of your senses as he gripped you harder and kissed you like his entire life depended on it.
"Bunny." he smiled, pressing his forehead against yours.
"Jinnie." you whispered and he pecked your lips once more before swimming backwards with a smirk.
"Catch me!" Hyunjin teased, swimming faster and you let out a noise of protest, knowing you weren't gonna be able to. "Catch me or you lose your dress!"
"What?!" you shrieked as he laughed, swimming towards the shore and quickly grabbing onto the stones.
"Hyunjin, don't you dare!" you yelled when he got out of the water, almost slipping as he laughed and ran to grab all your clothes.
You swam quicker, almost getting to the shore as he snickered and bolted away with your dress and his clothes.
"Hyunjin!" you yelled, struggling to get out of the water as the sound of his laughter drifted further away.
"Bastard." you muttered when you managed to climb out of the water, shivering as the sun was about to go down. There was no way he left you here without anything, especially when the sky was darkening quickly.
"Hyunjin, this isn't funny!" you yelled, taking a few steps forward, realizing he even grabbed your sandals. You cursed under your breath, looking around when suddenly-
"Boo!" Hyunjin sneaked behind you, scaring you out of your wits.
"You bastard!" you whined and he just laughed, reaching your dress towards you. And he was already dressed, the tease.
You were about to snatch it when he lifted his arm, holding it out of your reach. Maybe some things haven't changed like the way Hyunjin would always test your patience, claiming you were so adorable when you were annoyed.
"Ugh!" you jumped up to grab it but he moved it, giggling as he looked down at you.
"Hyunjin, give me my dress." you slapped his chest as he kept laughing and moving the dress away.
"I think you look prettier like this." he looked down at your chest and you gasped, covering yourself up.
"I'm cold, Hyunjin." you said and he shook his head.
"Here." he put the dress in front of your face and you eyed him for a moment before finally grabbing it and putting it on. He gave you your shoes and you put them on quickly as the sun almost set. Your bodies were still wet and putting the clothes over them made it worse.
"I'm really cold." you said and Hyunjin pulled you into his side as he led you back towards your house.
"You should come see how I repaired and decorated the place. Meet Rina too." Hyunjin smiled, rubbing your arm in an attempt to warm you up at least a little.
"Some other day, what I need right now is a warm bath." you sighed.
"I have a bath." Hyunjin smirked.
"I'm sure you do." you lifted one eyebrow at him as he kept chuckling.
As you made your way to your house, you felt so giddy, almost as if no distance ever existed between Hyunjin and you.
"I'll see you tomorrow at the anniversary dinner." you smiled as you arrived in front of the gate.
"Mhm." he smirked, holding your hands and staring into your eyes. You stood on your tippy-toes, pouting at him and he chuckled, leaning down as he grabbed your face gently and kissed you slowly like he was savoring the moment. Your arms wrapped around his waist and you pulled him in, your bodies heating up against one another.
"Good night, Jinnie." you whispered, pecking him again.
"Night, bunny. Dream about me." Hyunjin smirked, kissing the corner of your lips.
There was no way you were even sleeping tonight.
-
"Good morning!" you practically glided into the kitchen, seeing both your grandparents there.
"Look at you, I'm guessing it went well with Hyunjin, huh?" nana smiled.
"Oh, it did." you said and your grandparents just exchanged knowing looks but decides not to pry. You were walking on cloud 9 all day and you couldn't wait to see Hyunjin again.
You took extra time to do your hair and makeup and wear a nice black dress with heels for tonight, hoping to make Hyunjin's knees buckle just as he made you feel weak. Half of the village was invited to the anniversary dinner and you were so estatic to see all the people you haven't seen for years again and catch up with them. You were pulled left and right, everyone was equally as excited to talk to you, your old neighbors and friends were glad to have you back. Hyunjin arrived a little later and your heart almost leaped out of your chest when he walked in.
"Hey there, little bunny." he smirked, leaning in closer to you as his lips brushed against your cheek.
"Hey, Jinnie." you let out a giggle as your body heated up from the simplest touch.
"You look stunning." he gently grabbed your hand and gave you the elevator eyes.
"You look handsome." you returned the compliment and he squeezed your hand.
"Yeah?" he teased and you rolled your eyes playfully, pushing him away a little.
The dinner went smoothly, everyone was talking and having fun, the food was delicious as always which is something you missed in the city, and after the biggest toast to your grandparents' love and devotion, came more toasts and the glasses were never empty. You were a lightweight so you didn't drink too much, two and a half glasses were enough for you to feel the pleasant warm buzz inside your body. Hyunjin on the other hand, kept drinking with Chan and some of his other friends, his laughter echoing in the room and his face completely red. How much did he have?, you wondered since you knew he could drink a lot more than you before becoming like this.
After dinner, some of the neighbors left home, leaving only a few of you sitting together in the patio out back. Hyunjin slid next to you on the swinging bench with a dumb smile on his face, his dimples visible and his eyes almost disappearing.
"Hey there pretty girl." he giggled, leaning his cheek on your shoulder and pulling you close to him quickly, startling you a little from the suddenness of the movement.
"Jinnie, you're drunk." you let out a laugh as he whined and nuzzled his face into your neck.
"Drunk or not, you're always pretty to me." he smiled against your skin, pressing his lips into your neck and kissing you gently.
"My grandparents are there at the table." you chuckled, trying to pry him off of you as your cheeks burned.
"Did you tell them you're staying here with me forever?" Hyunjin leaned back a little and looked up at you with a cute, hopeful expression on his face. Your heart skipped a beat as you wrapped your arms around him and he leaned against your chest.
"I'll tell them soon." you whispered and he rubbed his cheek against you.
"Mm." he sighed, closing his eyes and getting even closer to you, draping his leg over you and trapping you there with him.
"Hyunjin?" you chuckled after a few moments, caressing the back of his head but there was no answer. "Are you sleeping?" you looked down and sure enough, your Jinnie was fast asleep on you, his face smushed against your breast.
"Poor soul." Lino, one of your high school friends came up to you together with Chan.
"I think he is right where he wants to be." Chan smirked and you really wanted to kick his shin but Hyunjin's leg was blocking your movement.
"Please help me take him upstairs, I don't want him to go home like this." you asked and even though they wanted to tease the both of you, they decided to help. Hyunjin blinked confusedly when Chan shook him lightly.
"Hyunjinnie. We have to go inside." he told him.
"Noooo!" Hyunjin wailed dramatically and gripped you tighter.
"You can sleep upstairs in my bed." you said and immediately he lit up.
"I can?" Hyunjin smiled cutely and you nodded.
He started babbling about how happy he was as Lino and Chan lifted him and helped him get upstairs before they bid you good night and left with teasing smirks on their faces. Hyunjin sobered up enough to brush his teeth before he started throwing his clothes off like they were the biggest nuisance in the world. You just finished getting ready for bed, wearing your favorite nightgown when you walked back into your room and saw Hyunjin almost naked, in the process of taking his pants off. He hopped on one leg cursing and looking like a major klutz as he almost fell down while you observed him and giggled.
"Fuck this!" he whined, throwing himself on your bed and letting out an exhale.
"Need some help?" you walked closer to the bed and Hyunjin smirked at you.
"Please." he nodded.
You managed to slide his pants off, putting them aside before Hyunjin wrapped his legs around you and pulled you towards him, making you lose balance and fall on top of him.
"Jinnie!" you gasped and he chuckled, brushing your hair behind your ears.
"Being in this room with you is like you never left." he whispered and before you could even answer, he flipped you over so now your body was caged under his. Your breath got caught in your throat as you blinked up at him. "This bed, where I made you mine for the first time. Brings back so many memories." he added with a smirk, his plush lips on yours instanly. You let out a little sound of protest because you definitely did not want your first time after being back to the village to be when you're both tipsy.
"Wait, wait." you stopped him, your hands planted on his chest and you were trying to ignore how his muscles felt under your palms.
"What's wrong, bunny?" Hyunjin asked, lips ghosting over your jaw.
"I- I don't wanna do it like this, I want us both to be completely present and sober. I think we should go to sleep now." you said and Hyunjin smirked once again, his big hands on your waist, caressing you as he kissed your cheeks.
"Sleep, hm?" he teased, his hands ghosting over your body but not touching you exactly how you wanted him. Goosebumps rose on your skin as your eyes fluttered and you gripped onto his arms. "As you wish, doll." Hyunjin smirked and rolled off of you, getting comfy on your small bed. You forgot just how small it was, whenever he would secretly sleep over you were both cramped up in the bed and it usually ended with you lying on top of his body as he held you.
Hyunjin grabbed your teddy and wrapped his arms around it as he smirked at you sleepily.
"Give Jinnie to me." you demanded and he chuckled.
"No." Hyunjin shook his head. "You come here to us." he beckoned you with his arm and you gulped, hesitating for a moment and just looking at Hyunjin sprawled on your bed in nothing but his boxers. It was truly a sight for sore eyes and you couldn't get over the fact that he has gotten even hotter than he was six years ago. You let out a sigh and laid down in his arms, your head on his chest and your ear pressed against his heart that was beating erratically.
"Good night, Jinnie." you whispered after you managed to relax and melt into him, telling yourself that no matter how much time has passed and what he looked like now, he was still your Hyunjin.
You stirred in your bed, the weight and warmth of Hyunjin's body was gone and for a second you thought last night was just a dream but when you opened your eyes and looked to your right, you saw a small makeshift flower bouquet placed in Jinnie's paw and a note next to it. A smile spread on your face as you rolled over on your tummy and grabbed the note.
'Good morning, beautiful. Come to my house around lunch time.'
There was little hearts drawn at the end and Hyunjin's name scribbled down. You squealed in happiness, hugging Jinnie and pressing your face into the teddy, inhaling Hyunjin's scent that stayed everywhere on your bed and made you feel crazy.
You had an extra pep in your step when you came downstairs, trying to find your grandparents so you could tell them you're planning on staying. After searching around the kitchen and living room, you finally spotted them sitting in the backyard, talking and laughing as they enjoyed a warm cup of coffee. You smiled, observing them for a moment and remembering all the times you thought about Hyunjin and you spending the rest of your life together like them and it made your heart flutter.
"Good morning." you walked over to them and they greeted you with a smile.
"Sit with us, honey." nana said, pouring you a cup of coffee and giving you some cookies.
"Slept well?" she teased you and your face started burning immediately.
"Yes." you chuckled. "Um. I have to tell you both something."
"What is it?" grandpa asked and you took a deep breath in, explaining to them how unhappy you actually were in the city, how hard it was for you and how alone you felt. You told them about the multiple times you wanted to drop everything and come back to the village but something always stopped you from throwing away everything you worked so hard for, and then you explained how you quit your job after having to compete for a higher position but the girl you were competing with was bullying you and slept with your boss, which made her get the promotion you broke your back over just with your work. That was your last straw and you just couldn't stay there anymore.
By the time you finished explaining all of it both you and your nana were crying.
"I'm sorry I didn't say anything before and made you think I was just visiting but I had no idea if you'd be willing to let me come back here for good." you sobbed.
"What are you talking about Y/n? Of course you can always come back here, this is your home. And we both missed you so much, right?" nana looked at your grandpa and he nodded in agreement. "That's right, we are so happy to have you here." he added and you felt the last stone lifting from your heart, relief washing over you that now everything has been clarified. You were back home and you were never leaving again.
-
Around lunch time, you were ready and buzzing, finally you were going to Hyunjin's house. As you approached it, Rina ran towards the fence, barking at you which caught Hyunjin's attention and he came out of the house, wearing an apron and a tanktop, making your mind dizzy. You were sure he was doing this on purpose to mess with you cause he knew very well how much power he had over you.
"Easy girl." he cooed at the dog, coming closer to the two of you and petting her black fur as she looked at him and sat, panting happily upon getting caressed. "This is Y/n, she's not dangerous." he stated as you walked into the yard and approached Rina cautiously.
"Well, maybe for my heart but that's a different thing." Hyunjin smirked and your cheeks reddened as you looked away from his mischievous smile. Rina barked at you but her tail was wagging as she approached you and started sniffing you before jumping on you and almost pushing you down.
"Oh my god!" you chuckled, petting the dog as she hopped around you happily, barking and running from you to Hyunjin and then back to you.
"She loves you." Hyunjin smiled as he observed the two of you.
"She's just the sweetest." you said.
"And very protective over me." Hyunjin smirked and you rolled your eyes playfully at him. "Let me show you around." he added and you nodded, Rina following behind the two of you. It was still the same house and garden but you could see how much work Hyunjin put in it. The flower garden was more than beautiful, the rest of the garden was full of different vegetables Hyunjin was growing and he even had his own lemon tree. You could see the entire house has been repainted, the windows changed and even the stable with horses was repaired. "How do you maintain all of this alone?" you wondered as Hyunjin took you through the stables where he had three horses and out towards the chicken coop.
"I work all day." Hyunjin shrugged. "Besides, Chan and Lino help me sometimes. And some of our other neighbors too. I mean I typically wake up around 5am and go to bed around 10pm, sometimes 11." he explained and you admired his work ethic and his persistence.
"That's amazing. You're so hardworking and resilient." you praised him and his cheeks got rosy. You knew how Hyunjin always enjoyed getting compliments, especially when he did something right and especially when they came from you.
"It's definitely hard sometimes and I wish I had someone here with whom I can split the work up with." he gave you a look and it was your turn to become red.
"Thank you for the flowers." you said as you neared the chickens.
"That was the least I could give you. Sorry for getting drunk at your grandparents' anniversary dinner." he chuckled and you shook your head.
"You're fine, don't worry." you waved your hand.
While you were talking, a curious chicken came closer and gave you a startle, making you jump a little and grab onto Hyunjin's arm as you shrieked. Hyunjin burst out into laughter and you frowned at him.
"It's not funny!"
"It so is. That's literally just a chicken, Y/n." Hyunjin kept chuckling.
"A chicken that is out to get me!" you shrieked again as the said chicken kept walking towards you menacingly. "Ah!" you screamed as the chicken sped up towards you and you jumped back, scaring half of the other chickens and making Rina bark. One wrong move and you slipped, falling down into the muddy soil, the pretty white dress you put on now completely ruined. Rina ran to you and barked, wagging her tail as the chicken gave up and went on her merry way like this was her plan the entire time. Hyunjin stared at you in shock before he started laughing so hard that his face became red and he doubled over, gripping his stomach. You really wanted the earth to open up this time and pull you down so far so you never embarrass yourself in front of Hyunjin again.
"Stop laughing at me." you pouted, your eyes welling up with tears as you were planted on your knees and palms.
"I'm sorry, but that was just too funny." Hyunjin came closer to you and you looked up at him, trying to look as mad as you could but the tears in your eyes softened Hyunjin up. "Come here." he cooed at you, grabbing your arms gently and helping you lift up.
"My dress is ruined." you couldn't help the tears that started sliding down your cheeks.
"Don't cry bunny, you can shower here and I'll give you something to wear, hm?" Hyunjin touched your cheek, tenderly wiping your tears away with his thumb. You hiccuped and nodded and he chuckled at your cuteness, grabbing your face and leaning in to peck your lips.
He led you into the house and despite feeling embarrassed and sad that your pretty dress was ruined, you still felt shocked when you walked in. The house that was like your second home here looked completely different than it did while you were growing up here. Your wide eyes wondered everywhere, not only was it repaired and repainted, the furniture was new and rearranged differently and there was art everywhere that you presumed was probably Hyunjin's. Everything was so neat and pretty, his house seemed so warm and cozy, a place you could see yourself spending time in with him.
"What do you think?" Hyunjin chewed on his lip, looking at you cutely with wide sparkly eyes.
"Hyune, it's beautiful! I love what you did with it. Somehow, it seems more spacious and like there's more light coming in." you said and he giggled.
"Yes, I wanted to make use of natural light as much as I could." he led you upstairs to his bathroom. "Here, you can shower and I'll make some lunch for us." he added and you nodded as you kept marvelling at everything he did with the space. Hyunjin found a shirt that was oversized even on him so it would definitely be like a dress for you.
"Here." he gave you the shirt and smirked. "Need help?" he added as he motioned towards the shower.
"I think I can handle it." you giggled and Hyunjin gave you a kiss before leaving to the kitchen. You took in the state of yourself in the mirror, cursing quietly when you saw just how much mud you were covered up in. You slowly peeled off the dress and then your underwear, before stepping into the shower. You managed to wash off the mud pretty quickly, replaying the entire scene in your head and feeling more and more embarrassed the more you thought of it.
After drying off and putting your underwear back on, you grabbed Hyunjin's shirt and your gut stirred at the smell of him. You put it on, the fabric soft against your smooth skin and you melted into it, hugging yourself with a smile on your face. This was not the first time you wore his clothes and you missed the feeling of it, your mind wandering back to the nights you spent in his embrace, stealing his shirt after which would make him even more crazy for you.
You finally went downstairs, feeling a little shy as you pulled the shirt down even though Hyunjin had already seen everything before and even saw you in your underwear at the lake. When you walked into the kitchen, he was whistling to the music playing in the background while stirring at the stove. He looked up at you and his lips parted, eyes darkening instantly. "Bunny..." he let out a breath and walked closer to you. Your heart started pounding in your ears as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you into his body, his lips on yours instantly. You kissed back, gripping at him before you felt something nudging your leg. The two of you parted and saw Rina, wagging her tail happily and pushing her head into your body.
"She wants attention." you started petting her immediately. "Reminds me of someone." you teased and Hyunjin gasped, dramatically placing his hand on his chest.
"Comparing me to a dog, huh?" he shook his head with a smile as you shrugged. "You look so good in my shirt, doll." Hyunjin bit on his lip and your face burned. You thanked him sheepishly, making him chuckle before he went back to cooking and you joined him, helping him out and feeling so domestic, and like you were right where you belonged.
The lunch was delicious and the mud mishap was soon forgotten as Hyunjin gave you a full tour of the house, ending in his room where he showed you his favorite paintings and sketchbooks that were unsurprisingly full of you. You were flipping through one of them when he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his body, his lips on your neck. You gasped, your hands shaking and making you drop the sketchbook on the floor as Hyunjin gently kissed your skin. "Jinnie..." you exhaled when his tongue darted out to lick at you before he sunk his teeth in. You tilted your head, completely melting against him as your entire body started burning up.
"I craved you so much." Hyunjin nipped at your shoulder and you squeezed his hands.
"Me too." you whispered before turning in his arms and grabbing his face as you smashed your lips against his. Nothing mattered but him in that moment, the two of you had a hunger that could only be satiated with each other. Your kiss was harsh and sloppy, your teeth clashing and hands grabbing everywhere but neither of you cared.
You felt the fire inside you burning up and spreading all the way to the tips of your fingers that grazed Hyunjin's skin. You needed him more than ever and being with him here made you realize that you had no idea how you managed to live all these years without him.
"Bunny, I can't... I want to worship you and take my time with you so badly, I want to kiss every inch of your skin and make love to you but I can't... I need to have you right now." he panted hard as he grabbed at your hips, leading you to the bed.
"Take me Hyunjin, please. I need you so much." you gripped his arms and Hyunjin let out a low growl before pushing you down onto the bed. It was as if he had no idea what to do first, staring at you sprawled under him for a moment before he put his hands on your thighs, squeezing the flesh.
Your legs parted, the shirt riding up and revealing the red lace panties you wore. "Damn doll, are you trying to kill me?"
"Maybe." you giggled and Hyunjin smirked at you before spreading your legs more and lowering his middle on top of yours. You gasped a little when you felt his length pressing and rubbing against you. He leaned in closer to your face, his arms caging you in.
"Can you feel what you do to me, bunny?" he moaned, rolling his hips against yours. You knew he wanted to tease you but his mind was far too gone for that. Hyunjin has waited for years for you to come back and to be in his arms, for him to taste you, feel you, kiss you, be inside you.
"Hyune... Please..." you were no better, your entire body was yearning for him, every fiber of your being screamed his name. Hyunjin couldn't wait, he leaned back and took off his shirt so you did the same, revealing that you didn't wear a bra.
"Naughty bunny." Hyunjin smirked, giving you a look and you grabbed his wrists gently, placing his palms on your chest. Hyunjin's eyes fluttered as he squeezed, thumbs swiping on your sensitive nipples. He cursed under his breath as he kept massaging your breasts and rubbing against you. You lifted your hips up to meet his, you needed to feel more of him. Your fingers hooked in his pants and you tugged so he lifted up a little to take them off. Hyunjin leaned down to kiss you, his tongue dominating yours as he slid your panties off, then his boxers before placing his hands on your thighs again and caressing them. His lips traveled down your neck to your collarbone then to your breasts, kissing and nipping at the flesh before he wrapped them against your nipple, sucking harshly as his fingertips pressed on your clit. A loud moan slipped your lips as you gripped his shoulders.
"Hyunjin." you moaned desperately, your body arching into him and he shushed you, his fingers sliding through your wet folds, separating them before he slowly pushed his finger in. It was a welcomed intrusion after not being with anyone for years, you haven't even dated after going to the city, you still felt like you belonged to Hyunjin and you thought about him every day so even the thought of letting someone else touch you was too much for you.
Hyunjin slowly pumped his finger inside you, feeling how wet you were getting before adding another finger, scissoring you open for him. He noticed you seemed deep in thought so he slowed down and leaned in to look at you.
"Is something wrong, doll?" he asked and you snapped out of your thoughts.
"Have you been with anyone since I left?" you asked in a small voice, blinking at him and Hyunjin let out a chuckle.
"No, I waited for you." he whispered, kissing you gently and you clenched around him. "You like that, bunny? Like that I'm only yours?" he bit on your lip and looked at you teasingly as he continued fingering you.
"Yes, yes Hyunjin!" you moaned when he hit that special spot inside you and his eyes darkened.
"What about you, doll? Did you let someone else touch what's only mine, hm?" he asked, fucking you faster.
"N-no. Only you, Hyunjin. I'm only yours." you moaned and he growled lowly again, getting more worked up as he wrapped his hand around his length and pumped it a few times.
"You never stopped being mine, little bunny. And I never stopped being yours." he moaned, pulling his fingers out before licking at them. Your heart was beating hard at the sight and the words that he said. It was true, you were his from the moment you first saw him until the end of time.
"Missed your taste." he moaned before grabbing his cock and pressing it against your clit. "I don't have any condoms." he added and you moaned as he ran his hard tip on your folds.
"T-that was never a problem with us." you bit on your lip and Hyunjin moaned as he started slowly pushing inside you, filling you up perfectly and stretching you out just for him. You whimpered, your legs opening more as you welcomed him inside you, where he belonged. Hyunjin took a moment to gather himself when he bottomed out, his eyes fluttering shut as you squeezed around him.
"God, bunny. I missed this pussy so much." you moaned at the dirty way he spoke, clenching even harder around him. "I won't last long."
You whimpered as he started moving, his muscles contracting with each movement as his arms caged you. You couldn't stop admiring him on top of you; the buzzcut worked so well with the new, more manly look, his eyebrows were furrowed, his eyes dark as he bit on his lip, his cheeks flushed and a thin sheen of sweat forming on his skin, the veins portruding. He looked so beautiful like that, all lost in you as he moaned quietly. Your hands came up to touch the back of his neck and his shoulders, so smooth and firm and Hyunjin gripped your hips.
"Fuck, I can't!" he whined loudly before he started snapping his hips into you. Both of you were a moaning, desperate mess, missing each other for so long. Hyunjin's hands had a bruising grip on your hips, your nails dug into his flesh as you wrapped your legs around him and pressed your heels into his ass, making him go deeper. He moaned loudly, fucking you harder, his cock splitting you apart deliciously.
"I'm g-gonna cum!" he whined almost as if he was disappointed in himself for finishing so quickly but you couldn't really blame him because you were on the verge yourself.
"Cum inside me, Jinnie!" you moaned and his eyes went wide for a moment before he gripped you harder.
"Are you sure?" he panted and you nodded quickly, your nails leaving red angry marks on his skin.
"Yes please Hyune, I need to feel you." you moaned and he whimpered, fucking you harder and chasing his high and your legs started trembling around him. He knew you were close by your moans and the way your body reacted, the way your pussy clenched around him so hard like you wanted him inside you forever.
"Let go for me, doll." he encouraged you and you moaned, the coil snapping as you came around him, making him even more wet.
Hyunjin cursed and moaned loudly, his hips stuttering before he exploded, filling you up with his warm cum and riding his high as you held onto him. He plopped down on top of you as both of you tried to catch your breath.
"Y/n. My bunny, my love." Hyunjin smiled, kissing you gently as you held each other.
"Jinnie. I love you so much." you whispered against his lips and felt him twitch inside you.
"I love you more than anything, doll." he said before kissing you again, his tongue slowly massaging yours and making your body burn all over again. His hands were on your breasts, massaging and squeezing, gently pinching and pulling on your nipples as he kept stealing your breath. You felt him slowly becoming harder inside you and you clenched, your pussy sore but welcoming. You touched his back and caressed his head and neck, making him whimper against you. It didn't take long for him to become fully hard again.
"I'm gonna make love to you." he whispered, kissing your lips again then grabbing your hand and kissing it before pinning it down on the bed, next to your head, his other hand on your waist.
"Hyunjin." you moaned out his name as he started to slowly move inside you, the drag of his cock against your walls was driving you crazy. Your eyes fluttered shut and you let yourself melt into the moment, the space filling up with sounds of your bodies and your moans as you both got lost in loving each other. Your lips brushed against his jaw and neck, kissing him and gently licking at his skin, the droplets of sweat that were sliding down his neck. He threw his head back when you sunk your teeth into his skin, marking him as yours. Hyunjin's hips stuttered and he fucked you a little harder and deeper but still slowly.
Your eyes fluttered open and met with his, full of love and lust.
"I wanna be like this with you forever." he moaned and you squeezed him with your legs, your nails digging into his shoulders again.
"Me too, Hyune, I wanna be with you forever." you breathed out.
He sped up a little, his hands roaming all over your body, his sweat dripping down onto your skin, making everything hot and wet.
"Ah!" you whimpered when he hit the spot. "You feel perfect inside me."
Hyunjin groaned at the praise, his hips snapping into yours harder as his fingers found your sensitive clit, moving in circles and trying to bring you to your high. His lips were on your skin again, kissing, licking and nipping before he grabbed your breast with his free hand and wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking hard and making your body tremble against him. The fact that you were even more wet and slippery than before because he had already came inside you drove you insane and you snapped, cumming around him and squeezing him again. Hyunjin's eyes rolled back and all he could do was moan your name as he sped up, your hips and pussy burning at the overstimulation and movement before he released inside you, filling you up again.
"Fuck." this time he pulled out of you, watching as his cum oozed out of your pussy. "Wow." he gasped a little, reaching out to touch your folds and you whimpered.
"Are you- are you on the pill?" Hyunjin asked as he retracted his hand and you started laughing when you realized he hadn't even asked before and that you didn't even think about it.
"No, I wasn't sleeping with anyone so I didn't need them." you said and Hyunjin's face went red.
"It's okay." you beckoned him closer with your hand and he crawled to you instanly, laying on top of you and propping himself up with his elbows as he looked at you softly, caressing your head and playing with your hair. "We talked about having kids..."
Hyunjin let out a chuckle before pecking your lips.
"We did but now that you're back I wanted to enjoy you just a little more. Have you all to myself, my little bunny. And I know it might be cliche but I wanted us to get married first." he said and your heart fluttered.
"You never stopped thinking about that?" you asked, caressing his back.
"I couldn't even if I wanted to. Did you?"
"I always thought that if I hadn't left we would've already been married and had at least one baby." you confessed and Hyunjin's body trembled as he pressed himself harder against you.
"There's nothing more I want than to have everything with you, my love." he said, kissing you gently and lovingly.
"Me too." you gasped for air between kisses.
"Are you ready for round three then?" he smirked and you felt his length twitching against your thigh.
"Oh wow." you laughed and Hyunjin chuckled.
"What can I say, I missed you." he kissed your jaw again. "I just wanna be inside you."
"Please Hyunjin." you whimpered, feeling aroused for him easily.
"Don't worry bunny, I got you. All mine tonight." he moaned, pushing into your sore pussy but it felt so good to you. "Gotta make sure it sticks." Hyunjin added with a smirk and you gasped, your eyes rolling back as he filled you up.
You spent almost the entire night in each other's embrace, making love or just cuddling and talking, but both of you felt so insatiable that you just couldn't stop until early morning hours.
"This is about the time I usually wake up." Hyunjin said as he blinked sleepily, rubbing his cheek against your breast as you held him in your arms. You looked out at the dark sky, giggling a little.
"We should get some sleep." you said and Hyunjin whined, squeezing your other breast with his hand.
"I can't... I need to feed the horses... And take Rina out for a walk and..." his voice got more and more quiet before you realized he was fast asleep. A smile spread on your lips as you relaxed and let yourself fall asleep too.
You woke up a few hours later, the sun blazing through the curtains and you groaned, covering your face. Your entire body was sore, last night you had used some muscles that were dormant for years, but the most sore place was between your legs. When you remembered everything you did with Hyunjin last night and how many times he had moaned into your ear about fucking a baby into you, your mind went hazy and you felt that wave of hotness rise inside you.
You noticed you were alone in the bed, tangled in his sheets and the smell of him and you rolled over to his side after noticing another little bouquet of flowers. You smiled to yourself and willed yourself to get up and take a shower even though your legs were in pain too.
By the time you came down, Hyunjin was nowhere to be seen but you found some coffee and toast, deciding to make yourself some breakfast. You sat at the counter and ate while listening to some music. Hyunjin suddenly walked in from the back door.
"Oh bunny! Good morning." he smirked as he came closer to you and you could see the sweat on his body glistening, making you feel aroused instantly at the sight and smell of him.
"Morning." your voice came out breathy as he wrapped his arm around you and kissed you.
"I was just working out back in the shed." he started and Rina ran in barking and jumping at you happily. You chuckled and cooed at her as you started petting her head. "She helped out." Hyunjin added and you giggled.
"I'm sure she did."
"Would you like to go horse riding with me today?" he asked and you let out a laugh.
"I mean, I'd love to but you tired me out last night." you said sheepishly and he cackled, making you smack his arm a few times which made Rina bark.
"Careful, you can't hit me in front of Rina." he had a smug smile on his face and you rolled your eyes, shoving him away playfully. "Come on, we used to go all the time. I missed doing everything with you, doll."
"Fine, but I'm going home first to change and say hello to my grandparents." you pointed your finger at him and he grabbed your wrist, gently kissing your fingertip before he pressed your hand on his chest.
"Come back to me soon, doll."
-
It didn't take long for you to get ready and skip back to Hyunjin's house, especially after missing him for so many years; you felt like you needed to make up for all the lost time. Hyunjin was waiting for you in the stable, preparing the horses for the ride. As soon as you walked in, he smiled at you, waving at you to come closer. Hyunjin gave you the elevator eyes, you were dressed and ready for the activity you were going to share with him this afternoon.
"God, you look so cute my bunny." he put his hands behind his back and leaned in to kiss you, making you giggle against his lips.
"You're cute." you poked his cheek and he chuckled.
"I am?" he gave you a cute face, making his dimples visible as he smiled and his eyes disappeared, turning into little slits. For emphasis he put his palms around his face as if he was presenting his cuteness to you and you could not believe that this was the same man who had you shaking under him last night.
"The cutest." you giggled and he seemed satisfied with the answer, giving you another sweet kiss.
"So, this beauty over here is Aurora." Hyunjin took your hand in his and walked closer to the horse. It let out a snorting sound, making you jolt a little and Hyunjin chuckled.
"Don't tell me you forgot how to ride." he smirked at you with a pointed look and you smacked his arm as he giggled, knowing you would react like that. Your cheeks went red despite last night and despite everything else you shared with him.
"You better be quiet." you threatened him and he wiggled his eyebrows at you.
"You weren't saying that last night."
"Hyunjin. Please. The horses don't need to listen to this." you whispered the last sentence, giving Aurora a few gentle pets.
Hyunjin laughed before nodding. "Alright, well she is yours for today. And I'm taking Midnight." he pointed to a black horse and you nodded, feeling excited because you missed things like this in the city, spending time in nature even though insects frightened you.
The two of you made your way out with your horses, Hyunjin helping you get up on Aurora and then patting your butt affectionately as you sat down. Your cheeks became rosy as he smirked at you and climbed up on Midnight. He looked so hot in that moment that you were already getting worked up despite still being sore.
You made your way towards the fields, the sun shining on you as you rode your horses and enjoyed the fresh air and the breeze. Everything that was bothering you before you came here was left in the dust your horses lifted as they ran, the past was put behind you and you could clearly see the path ahead.
The two of you made it to one of the pretty fields, letting the horses rest as you tied them aside and Hyunjin brought a blanket for the two of you to sit on. Quietly, you enjoyed the beautiful day together as you closed your eyes and let the sun's warmth kiss you while Hyunjin kept his eyes fixed on you.
"I forgot just how peaceful it is here." you sighed before looking at Hyunjin.
"But you spent most of your life here, more than in the city. You know this place like the back of your hand." his head tilted and you shrugged.
"Maybe it didn't take long for me to get used to the city."
"Then it won't be long for you to get used to being back here." he said and bit on his lip. "Come here bunny." he tapped his thigh and you chuckled, your face becoming red. "Come sit in my lap, I need you close to me." Hyunjin added and you shook your head lightly before coming closer to him and sitting in his lap. Your arms wrapped around his neck and his around your waist as he leaned in and kissed you sweetly, before gently swiping his tongue on your lower lip. You parted your lips and he kissed you sensually, like he was trying to explore every part of you and remember your taste forever.
Hyunjin leaned back suddenly and gave you a serious look as he held your hips.
"Y/n, you really are the most important person in my life. You are my best friend and my only lover. And I want you to stay here with me forever and for us to build a life together but only if you want that. I don't want you to feel like I forced you to be here in the village and made you throw away your uni degree and the career you worked so hard for. I need to know that you are absolutely sure you want this, cause I don't want you to resent me one day." Hyunjin exhaled shakily and you smiled, grabbing his face and smushing his cute cheeks.
"You're the most important person in my life too. And even without knowing you still loved me and wanted to be with me I came back here with the plan to stay. There is nothing for me there, that career was a disappointment, almost a waste of time that I could've been spending here with you. Besides, I am still young and there is time to change careers. This is my decision to stay here and if I have you too, then that's just added happiness. I would never resent you Hyunjin, because I want to build a life with you too, I want us to grow old together like my grandparents. I always imagined us like that."
"Oh bunny, you have no idea how happy that makes me." Hyunjin gave you the sweetest smile before crashing his lips against yours. The kiss was passionate and full of love, all bursting around the two of you. He kissed your neck before flipping you over and you gasped under him.
"Beloved, it's the middle of the day, other people come here. A-and the horses are right there." you nodded towards the animals who seemed interested only in the grass.
"Doll, let me just have a taste of you, please?" Hyunjin rubbed your hips, giving you the cutest pout and puppy eyes and you were weak for him. It never took too long for you to lose your panties around him which was what happened as soon as you said yes. He took off your pants and underwear, immediately diving in between your legs as he held them open, gripping at your thighs.
"My sweet bunny." Hyunjin kissed and nipped on your thighs, leaving bite marks in his wake all the way up to your core.
"Mm." he moaned the moment his plump lips touched your folds. "Baby." he whined and flatened his tongue against you, giving you a few languid licks, enjoying the taste of you before the tip of his tongue started flicking your clit. You whimpered quietly as your legs trembled, still aware that you were outside and anyone could see you.
Hyunjin however, didn't care. He was moaning into your pussy desperately as soon as he pushed his tongue in, eating you out like you were the sweetest treat ever. His nose brushed against your clit perfectly as he moved and you were still so sensitive from last night so it didn't take long for you to release your essence all over his lips and tongue as you gripped onto the blanket.
"Bunny, you taste so sweet." he whined, licking around his lips. You looked around, chuckling and quickly pulling your pants up, cringing a little at the wetness.
"Let me make you feel good too, Jinnie." you were now closer to him, your hands on his thighs.
"You don't have to do it right now, we can go back to my house and-"
"Hyune... You can't ride back with this." you smirked, cupping his bulge through his pants and he whined instanly, lifting up into your hand and grinding against it.
"Yeah, you're right." Hyunjin moaned as you kissed his jaw and neck while working to unbutton his pants and slide them down with his boxers, at least enough to pull his cock out. You moaned at the sight of him and you were so eager to have him in your mouth again after not tasting him for so long. You leaned down, gathering spit before you spit on his cock and made him gasp, lifting his hips up to you again. You gave him a few pumps as you smirked at him and Hyunjin was already falling apart. He was equally as weak for you as you were for him.
You swirled your tongue around his head, dipping it into his slit and he shook against you, his hips lifting up and his hand tangling in your hair.
"More, please more bunny." he begged desperately and you moaned around him as you slid down, taking more of his length in.
"Just like that baby, keep going." he encouraged you as you tried to relax your throat and breathe through your nose. Hyunjin whimpered when you gripped the base of his cock, bobbing your head up and down. He gripped your hair, his moans becoming high pitched so you looked up and almost came in your panties at the sight. He was completely lost in the pleasure you were giving him, his head thrown back, his neck on full display with his Adam's apple bobbing up and down every time he gulped and his veins visible. Your eyes fluttered as you moaned around him and fondled his balls with your other hand, making his hips jerk up into you which made you gag a little.
"Fuck. Taking me so well, bunny." he growled, fucking up into you slowly as he gripped your hair harder. "G-gonna cum."
"Mm." you moaned, massaging his balls and sucking him like your life depended on it as he kept fucking up into you.
"Ah! Love seeing those pretty lips around me!" Hyunjin whined loudly, snapping his hips a little harder against you before you felt him twitch and release inside you. You swallowed every last drop he gave you, overstimulating him until he was almost pushing you away.
"Fuck, bunny. You're gonna be the death of me." he said as you lifted up and wiped your lips.
"That good, hm?" you teased him with a smirk and he smirked back at you as he got dressed.
"Well, you seem to love my cum so I'm just giving you what you love, you know, thinking of your happiness." he teased and you smacked his arm, making him laugh because he loved provoking you.
"Shut up." you muttered in embarrassment and he giggled before pouting at you and coming closer to you. He gently took your chin in his hand and made you look at him.
"I love you." he said.
"I love you too." you smiled and kissed him, tasting your essence on his tongue.
"Wanna ride a little more then go back to my house?" he asked and you nodded eagerly.
"I'd love to."
-
Currently, you were sitting in Hyunjin's very big bath, waiting for him to join you as you soaped up your arms with the bubbles, playing around with them.
"Here I am!" he ran in, quickly closing the door behind him. "Had to feed Rina plus she felt neglected and deprived of my love." he added, stripping his clothes and throwing them in the hamper haphazardly.
"You trying to make me feel guilty?" you asked, blowing a bubble at him and he giggled.
"No doll, you know you're always my number one." he smirked, throwing his underwear aside and you looked away in embarrassment.
He chuckled at you and got in, sitting between your legs and you squealed as he made the water splash around you.
"Will you help me wash my back?" he looked at you sideways with a little pout and you chuckled.
"Of course, beloved." you smiled as you took a clean cloth and made it wet before you started gently washing his back. Hyunjin closed his eyes and let out a long sigh of relaxation. You enjoyed the quiet moment, gently rubbing his skin before gliding over it with your other hand, loving the feeling of his wet and soft skin against yours. You leaned in and kissed his shoulders, your breasts pressing against him and nipples grazing him. Hyunjin let out a shaky breath as you wrapped your arms around him and kept kissing his upper back and the back of his neck, catching the droplets of water with your lips.
"I'm so happy." he said and you smiled against him as he caressed your hands. "I was lonely without you, my bunny. I drowned that in work but in moments like this, when it's quiet, and especially late at night I imagined you next to me, wished you were here. And now you are."
"I'm sorry, Jinnie. I'll never leave you again." you said, brushing your lips against his neck.
"I know." he shivered and then leaned back into you as you held him and caressed his chest and stomach, your hand coming in contact with his cock that was hard again.
"Jinnie." you giggled in delight.
"I can't help it when you're touching me." he whined and you kept giggling as you wrapped your hand around him and gave him a few teasing tugs before you released him completely, making him groan.
"Love, you promised we'd go stargazing tonight." you teased.
"The stars will be there tomorrow." he smirked, turning around in the bath and making the water splash around again.
"So will we." you chuckled, running your finger on his defined jaw.
"Mm." he smirked, eyes already hooded as he leaned in and captured your lips in his. You gave in instantly, craving him as much as he craved you.
"I want to go stargazing." you said when the two of you parted for air and Hyunjin chuckled, shaking his head.
"Whatever my bunny wants. Give me a few moments to try and calm down, hm?" he said, kissing your jaw before he got up, getting out of the bath and making his way to the shower. "Join me." he reached his hand towards you and you grabbed it, getting out of the bath with his help.
The moment you shared in the shower was sweet and gentle as you helped each other wash off, playing around with the water.
"So, you like how I did the house?" Hyunjin asked as you dried off.
"I love it so much. It's artsy but cozy and warm. It still has that vintage vibe, you just made it better." you told him and he blushed, smiling cutely at you.
"I decorated it with the thought of you." he confessed, suddenly looking shy and reminding you of that little boy that almost hid behind his mother the first time he laid eyes on you.
"Hyunjin." your eyes watered instantly and you started crying.
"Bunny, don't cry." Hyunjin wrapped his arms around you, shushing you and pulling you into his chest as he caressed your head.
"I'm sorry." you whimpered and he chuckled at your cute pouty face as he looked down at you.
"Move in with me. There's no need to wait." he kissed your head and you squeezed him tighter.
"Packing tomorrow." you looked up at him with a smile and he chuckled, leaning down to kiss you as he wiped your tears away.
-
It was a beautiful, clear and quiet night, just what you needed for one of your favorite activities. Stargazing was a little ritual you did together even before you started dating, when you were just friends. You'd lay near your tree and look up at the stars wondering what's in store for you and Hyunjin, and he'd be nervously gathering courage to confess to you and kiss you only to back out every time you smiled at him.
After becoming a couple, you'd spend warm evenings loving each other under the blanket of stars, hidden by the grass and flowers around you. You'd look up at the stars then and thank them.
Hyunjin brought a blanket this time like always and you laid next to each other, your bare arms touching.
"Jinnie, can I ask you something?" you turned to look at him.
"Anything." he met your eyes.
"I noticed this when I got here the first day but why did you carve only your name in the tree, under ours?"
His eyes softened before he sat up and looked at the tree.
"For when you come back, so you can add your name and we can make a new start together." he smiled and your eyes watered.
"Jinnie." you whined, sitting up and resting your forehead on his shoulder. "You're too sweet."
"Here." he gave you his pocket knife and motioned at the tree. "You can add your name now."
Hyunjin helped you out and the two of you admired your work, a new carving of your names signifying a new phase of your relationship, where both of you have grown and matured. You turned towars him, grabbing his face and smashing your lips into his as you kissed him passionately. Hyunjin returned the kiss enthusiastically, pulling you in his lap. Your hips started grinding against him instantly and he smirked into the kiss.
"Is my bunny needy for me?" Hyunjin leaned back to look at you, caressing your face and putting your hair behind your ear.
"Mm, always." you moaned quietly as his other hand grabbed at your ass, squeezing and giving you a light smack.
Hyunjin chuckled at the state of you, already unraveling and he hasn't even done anything. You bit on your lip and gripped his shoulders as you started dragging your core against his. Hyunjin's head fell back as he gripped your hips and helped you move against him, pressing you down and making you feel his growing bulge.
"What you do to me, doll." he almost growled, gripping you harder and moving his hips up into yours.
"Hyunjin." you moaned his name, your hands sliding down his chest to his abs and then to the button on his jeans as you worked to open it. He smirked into the kiss again, letting you struggle for a moment before he leaned away from your lips and helped you take off his pants. His hands slid under your dress, up until he touched your panties.
"So wet, my bunny." he looked at you lustfully, his lips parting as he touched you clit and played with it, sliding his fingers down to your folds and feeling the wetness even through the fabric.
"I need you." you whined and he chuckled.
"I need you too, bunny." he whispered and you stood up to slide your panties off as Hyunjin watched you with hazy eyes. He slid his pants and underwear down, pulling you down into his lap again. Your wet pussy pressed against his hard cock and both of you moaned as you grinded on him, getting him wet with your juices.
"Ah, doll!" Hyunjin whined, pushing his hips up into you and you lifted just a little to grab his cock and push it inside you. He groaned as you sat down on him slowly, feeling every inch of him stretching your still sore pussy.
"You okay, bunny?" Hyunjin wrapped his arms around your waist as you let out a hiss.
"Y-yes, perfect." you whimpered, gripping at his shoulders as you started circling your hips on top of him. "Oh my god." you groaned, feeling his tip brushing against something delicious deep inside you.
"Good, baby?" Hyunjin smirked, holding your hips but you knew he was close to losing control.
"Mm yes." you shut your eyes tightly as you started to bounce on him slowly and Hyunjin let out a loud moan.
"Ah, bunny! You feel so good. So perfect for me. I wanna stay inside you forever."
You clenched hard at his words, fucking on his length faster, your hips slapping against his. Hyunjin's hand gripped your dress and pushed it up before he grabbed your ass, giving it a few smacks and making you whimper and squeeze around his cock again.
"Please, Hyune, I need more, please!" you whimpered, fucking on him as hard as you could even though your thighs started burning. Hyunjin looked at you, your flushed face and your tits bouncing with your movement, his cock disappearing completely inside you. You were driving him insane.
"You want some help bunny?" he asked, gripping your hips.
"Yes, please!" you whined and Hyunjin smirked before he started snapping his hips up into you.
Both of you were a desperate mess of moans and curses, fucking into each other as if you hadn't been together all night yesterday.
"Gonna get you pregnant, my bunny. Want you to be mine forever." Hyunjin growled as you fell apart on top of him, exploding all over his cock.
"Please, Hyune, want to have your baby." you mumbled, your entire body shaking on top of him and Hyunjin growled, his eyes rolling back as he came, ropes of warm cum filling you up, your pussy milking him dry.
You held each other for a moment, trying to gather your senses as you breathed hard. Hyunjin leaned back and gave you a cute smile.
"I mean it, you know. I really want a little one running around our house. A baby that we made out of love." Hyunjin said, holding your face in his palms.
"Me too, I want it so much." your voice was shaky as you leaned in and kissed him, not missing the detail where he called his house yours.
"After last night and today it would be a surprise if you weren't already pregnant." he smiled, brushing his lips against yours.
You chuckled as your face burned. "I hope so."
Hyunjin smiled, kissing you until you became breathless. The two of you cleaned up and got dressed, lying down in each other's arms so you could actually do what you came to do here - watch the stars.
Once again, you thanked them for leading you back to your Hyunjin.
Six months later
You were drinking your morning tea, staring out the window as your free hand landed on your tummy and you let out a sigh of happiness. Hyunjin came from upstairs, all fresh from a shower and noticed you smiling to yourself, the sun illuminating your features.
"How are my girls?" Hyunjin asked as he wrapped his arms around you, his hands on your baby bump, caressing you gently as he kissed you neck and inhaled your sweet scent.
"Good actually. The tea is helping with nausea." you turned your head a little to look at his face and his eyes were filled with so much love and happiness that it made you shiver, your heart fluttering.
"What?" you chuckled as he kept looking at you with a big smile on his face.
"Have I told you how breathtaking you are, my doll?" he exhaled, nuzzling into you.
"Only every day." you giggled.
"And I will continue doing so for the rest of my life." Hyunjin kissed your cheek and you turned in his arms to give him a proper kiss, enjoying the feeling of his plump lips against yours. Your hands flew to his hair that was now black and growing out and you ran your fingers through the soft tufts.
"I have something for you." he said when the two of you broke apart.
"What is it?" you tilted your head and Hyunjin rounded the couch where Rina was cuddled up, making her raise her head and look at him. He stood in front of the stereo and pressed a few buttons before the familiar melody of Photograph started playing.
"Hyun..." your eyes watered and he skipped towards you, reaching his hand to you. You grabbed it and he pulled you into him, dancing with you, softly swaying you side to side.
"This has always been our song. The one we danced to at prom too. And now we can have our first dance at our wedding to this song as well."
"H-Hyunjin." your lips trembled as happy tears spilled from your eyes.
"I wanted to wait for a perfect moment, have this elaborate dinner and speech but I think this is the perfect moment. You and me in our house with our baby on the way and Rina with us. So I have something to ask you, bunny." Hyunjin got on one knee in front of you, taking out a little box from the pocket of his sweats and opening it up to reveal a beatiful ring.
You gasped, your heart beating fast as more tears spilled from your eyes. You knew he was going to propose to you but nothing prepared you for the tornado of feelings that were swirling inside you.
"Y/n, will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?"
"Yes!" you yelled almost before he ended the sentence and he chuckled happily, sliding the ring on your finger.
"I love you so much, Jinnie." you cried as he stood up and wrapped his arms around you.
"I love you more than anything, my little bunny." he kissed you, the tears of happiness sliding down his cheeks too.
"I promised you forever, didn't I?"
And there was no other way you wanted to spend forever than to be by Hyunjin's side.
or: oh great. your roommate bailed on you right before the new month's payment, and you need to find a new roommate asap. lucky for you, chan came (literally) to your rescue. he's charming enough, and more importantly, pays rent on time. you've agreed to split rent by half, but rent won't be the only thing getting split in half, because he's hiding a big secret. and no, not just the one in his pants.
warnings: MDNI!!! contains heavy sexual content, camboy!chris x roommate!reader, porn with some plot, perv!reader, masturbation, piv, mānhandling, spānkïng, hāirpulling, too many kinks , kinda switch!chan but he's mostly a dom daddy dwdw, I'm a cocky chan truther so yk what's coming, a sprinkle of fluff and banter.
wc: 11k
a/n: loosely based off this drabble
"You're fucking kidding me." You stare at the text message. Three sentences that might as well be a bomb dropped in the middle of your living room.
Hey, sorry for the short notice, but I’m moving in with my boyfriend at the end of the week.
I know rent’s due soon, but I kinda already spent my half on the security deposit for our new place.
Good luck finding someone else!
shit
Rent is due in nine days, and your bank account isn’t exactly overflowing.
You’ve never lived alone before. Couldn’t afford it even if you wanted to. And the thought of scrambling to find a new roommate in a week makes your stomach twist.
You're halfway through drafting a frantic "roommate needed ASAP" text to your groupchat when your phone buzzes.
it's one of your few friends who actually bothers to check in.
Heard about your roomie bailing. Absolute bullshit.
Anyway I know a guy. Chill as hell, works freelance, needs a place.
You'd vibe.
You hesitate, thumb hovering over the keyboard. The last thing you want is some rando bringing chaos into your already crumbling life.
But then your landlord's terse "rent due on the 1st, no exceptions" text flashes in your mind.
Fine. Give him my number.
Chan texts you thirty minutes later. His messages are polite. Full sentences, proper punctuation, none of that monosyllabic grunting.
He suggests meeting at the apartment tomorrow afternoon to check the place out, and you agree.
The next day, you're scrubbing the bathroom sink when the doorbell rings. Chan stands in the hallway holding a paper bag that smells like garlic and herbs. "Figured we could talk over lunch," he says, smiling like this isn't weird at all.
Up close, he's so much cuter than you expected, blond hair, unfairly big broad shoulders, dressed in a blank tanktop that showed them off perfectly.
You blink at the take out bag, then at Chan’s easy grin.
There’s no nervous energy radiating off him, no awkward shuffling — just this unsettling calm, like he’s already decided he belongs here. “Uh,” you say, wiping your damp hands on your pants, “you didn’t have to—”
“I know,” he interrupts, already toeing off his sneakers without waiting for an invite. The scent of roasted garlic and rosemary spills into the apartment as he breezes past you toward the kitchen. “But food makes everything less weird, right?”
You trail after him, you don't know whether to be annoyed or charmed.
Chan unpacks the food containers, grilled chicken, some kind of herby rice, roasted vegetables that don’t look like the sad microwave steam bags you usually survive on.
He slides a plate toward you. “Eat first, then interrogation.”
“Interrogation?” You stab a piece of chicken, watching him warily.
Chan shrugs, mouth already full. “Standard roommate shit. ‘Do you snore?’ ‘Are you a serial killer?’ ‘Will you steal my leftovers?’” He swallows, grinning.
“The answer’s no, no, and only if you leave them unlabelled.”
The food is homemade stupidly good, and Chan’s presence is… unsettlingly comfortable.
By the time you’re scraping the last of the rice off your plate, you’ve learned he does something vague with digital marketing (“Basically, I convince people to buy shit they don’t need”), he actually enjoys doing laundry, and he likes to cook.
“So,” Chan says, stacking the empty containers, “you wanna show me around, or should I just start claiming drawers?”
The tour is quick — your apartment isn’t exactly sprawling — but Chan makes appreciative noises at the closet space and tests how sturdy the bed frame is (#whatdatmean).
When you hesitantly mention rent, he waves a hand. “Half’s fine. I’ll pay first and last upfront if you want.”
You stare. “You don’t even know the amount.”
Chan shrugs, leaning against the kitchen counter “Doesn’t matter. I’ve got it.” He pulls out his phone, taps a few times, and, before you can protest, your own phone buzzes with a notification.
It’s a Venmo payment for double what you were about to say rent costs.
Your mouth opens, then closes. “You—what? That’s too much.”
“Nah.” He pockets his phone, grinning at your baffled expression. “Consider it a ‘sorry for being weirdly pushy’. ”
You don’t argue. You can’t argue — not when your bank account is currently breathing its first sigh of relief in months.
A girls got priorities, and he doesn't really seem to mind. it's a win win scenario.
~
The first month was… strange. Not bad, just strange. he was genuinely nice, easy to talk to. it wasn't long till the initial awkwardness — if there was any — wore off. you'd become something sort of friends, and both of you settled into a quiet rhythm.
he'd left cash for rent in a neat stack on the kitchen counter on first of the month, slightly more than his half again.
When you tried to give him the extra back, he just waved you off.
You caught glimpses of his routine. disappearing into his room at odd hours, the low murmur of his voice through the walls late at night.
And then there was the day you came home early.
You weren’t supposed to be back until ten, but your shift ended early, and the bus was miraculously on time for once.
The apartment was quiet when you unlocked the door, just the hum of the fridge and the faint creak of the floorboards under your feet.
You’d barely set your bag down when you heard it — a low noise from Chan’s room.
Your fingers froze on the zipper of your jacket. The sound came again, breathier this time, followed by the slick, rhythmic sound of skin on skin.
you thought it was a girlfriend he never told you about.
The idea punched a weird, hollow ache into your ribs — which was stupid, because it’s not like you had any claim on him.
Still, you stood there frozen in the hallway, his door slightly ajar, listening to the sounds of his pleasure like some kind of creep.
You backed out of the apartment, easing the door shut with just the softest whisper of the latch catching. Your pulse hammered in your throat as you ducked into the stairwell, pressing your back against the cool concrete wall.
The rational part of your brain screamed at you to stop being weird, to just walk back in like a normal person. But the irrational part — the part currently in charge — was too busy replaying the sounds spilling from Chan’s room to listen.
You get out of the building and circle the block twice, three times, counting cracks in the sidewalk. The air smells like rain that hasn’t fallen yet, and you bask in that atmosphere till roughly an hour has passed.
When you finally drag yourself back inside, the apartment is quiet. Chan’s door is shut tight, the shower running, and no girlfriend in sight.
she must've left early.
You freeze halfway to your room when the shower shuts off. your feet are planted still go to your room, go to your room
but you weren't quick enough, and a few seconds later, Chan emerges with only a towel slung low on his hips.
He's startled when he sees you, droplets flicking off his hair as he jerks his head up. “oh hey—” His voice is casual before you cut him off, "shit—sorry!" your face heats up at the sight, your eyes wander, trailing down his toned chest that still had water droplets running down, before snapping your head in the other direction.
was he always this muscular?
and you can't help but notice that there are no hickeys on his neck, no marks on his arms, and surprisingly put together for someone who just had his girlfriend over less than an hour ago.
"no no— you're good." he reassures with a smile, "you're back early."
You swallow hard. “Yeah. Shift got cut."
Chan leans against the doorframe, his damp hair curling at the ends. You try not to stare at the way his towel clings precariously to his hips, but your gaze keeps flicking downward anyway, betraying you.
"Everything okay?" he asks, tilting his head slightly.
"Y-yeah," you stammer, fingers twisting in the hem of your jacket. "Just—uh. Busy day."
Chan hums, nodding. His eyes flick over your face, lingering a second too long on your flushed cheeks before he grins. "Cool. I was just gonna make some food if you’re hungry."
The casual offer throws you off. You were expecting — what? Awkward silence? Averted eyes? Not this easy warmth.
but you just nod dumbly. "Yeah. Food sounds good."
he pushes off the doorframe, padding toward the kitchen. The towel rides up slightly with each step, revealing the sharp cut of his hip bones, and you have to physically bite the inside of your cheek to keep from making a noise.
“You good?” he calls over his shoulder, like he can feel your stare burning into his back.
“Fine,” you squeak, following at a safe distance, eyes fixed firmly on the floor. The kitchen tile is cool under your socked feet, a welcome distraction from the heat crawling up your neck.
Chan hums again, rummaging through the fridge with one hand while the other keeps his towel secured. The muscles in his back flex as he leans forward, and you’re suddenly very interested in the color of your sponge bob socks.
“Leftover pasta okay?” he asks, pulling out a container with a rattle of plastic. You nod mutely, watching as he moves around the kitchen, his bare feet slapping against the tiles.
The stove clicks to life, the hiss of gas filling the silence between you. Chan leans against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, “So,” he starts, “how was work?”
You blink. “Uh. Fine. Boring.” The words tumble out too fast, your pulse jumping when Chan chuckles. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and suddenly you’re hyperaware of every inch of space between you.
he scrapes the leftover pasta into the pan, the sizzle of garlic and butter filling the silence between you. His towel shifts dangerously low with each stir, but he doesn’t seem to notice — or maybe he does.
The corner of his mouth twitches when he catches you staring, and you snap your gaze to the ceiling like it’s suddenly fascinating.
"You know," he says, voice light, "most roommates don’t freak out when they see each other half dressed." The wooden spoon clinks against the pan as he scrapes the edges.
"I wasn’t freaking out."
Chan laughs, "You literally yelped like I pulled a knife on you." He glances over his shoulder, eyes dragging down your body in a way that makes your knees weak. "Unless you’re into that."
The pasta sizzles loudly in the pan, drowning out the choked sound that escapes your throat at Chan’s words. "I—that’s not—"
Chan turns fully now, abandoning the stove, and the towel dips dangerously low. His smirk is infuriating, "Relax," he murmurs, stepping closer, "Just teasing."
You laugh nervously, the sound too high pitched, too obvious. "I'm just gonna—" You jerk your thumb toward your room, already backing away. "Change into something more... home-y."
Chan raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Home-y,"
"yea—!" your voice cracks "y'know comfortable....home clothes"
Then you gesture vaguely at his towel, your voice cracking slightly. "Are you— uh, gonna put on actual clothes before we eat? Because I'm pretty sure health code violations apply to apartments too."
Chan glances down at himself, then back up at you, "Why?" He grins, tilting his head. "Distracted?"
"Yes—no," you sputter, crossing your arms tightly over your chest like armor. "I just don’t want your—" You wave a hand wildly in the general direction of his hips. "That—near my dinner."
Chan laughs, a full blown laugh, and you take that chance to bolt for your room, shoulders hunched as if that’ll make you smaller, less noticeable.
The door clicks shut behind you with a click, and you press your forehead against the cool wood, exhaling sharply.
"And turn the heat down!" you call out, voice too high,"Unless you want to burn the house down!"
Another laugh, muffled through the door. "Yes, mom," Chan drawls, the playful lilt in his voice making your cheeks burn hotter.
The stove clicks as he adjusts the flame, the sound followed by the soft thud of his footsteps padding down the hall. You squeeze your eyes shut, listening to the creak of his bedroom door, the rustle of fabric as he presumably — finally — changes.
You peel yourself off the door, fingers fumbling at the jacket of your shirt. The fabric clings to your skin, damp with nervous sweat, and you wrestle it off.
Home-y. Right. who even says that?
Stupid stupid stupid.
Your dresser drawer sticks halfway open, You grab the first shirt your fingers brush against, soft from too many washes, and a pair of sweatpants with the elastic stretched out.
'He has a girlfriend,' you think, shimmying out of your jeans. The denim catches around your ankles, nearly causing you to trip.
'Probably. Maybe. Who the fuck knows.'
You yank the shirt over your head so hard the neckline stretches. The mirror across the room reflects your flushed face, your hair mussed from the fabric dragging through it.
You look and feel ridiculous.
You pull up your pants, then pause, fingers hovering at the waistband. Avoid him. Simple. Logical. You can do that.
but it wasn't that easy. after all there is only so much avoiding one could do to someone they live with.
The apartment isn’t big enough for elaborate evasion tactics, and Chan seems to have a sixth sense for popping up exactly where you don’t want him.
Leaning against the fridge when you’re raiding it at 2 am, or lounging on the couch just as you’re about to claim it for a late night tv binge.
So you just ended up being cooped in your room for most of the day.
But Chan isn’t stupid. eventually after days passed by, he’s leaning against your bedroom doorframe when you crack it open after what you thought was a safe half hour of silence.
“So,” he says, arms crossed, voice dripping with amusement, “you’re avoiding me.”
You freeze, one socked foot hovering mid step like a cartoon character caught mid sneak. “No,” you lie too quickly.
Chan raises an eyebrow. “You literally just ducked into the bathroom because you heard me coming down the hall.”
“I had to pee.”
“For the fourth time today?” His grin lopsided, “Either you’ve got a UTI, or you’re full of shit.”
You grit your teeth, fingers tightening around the doorknob. “Maybe both.”
he sighs out laugh, then steps closer, “Listen,” he murmurs, voice dropping to a serious tone, “if this is about the whole towel thing—”
“It’s not,” you answer quickly, too loud, too fast.
“So it is about the towel thing.”
“I’m not—” You exhale sharply through your nose, squeezing your eyes shut. “Can you just—” You gesture vaguely at the space between you. “Give me, like, a three foot radius?”
Chan tilts his head, considering. His gaze drags down your body, before settling back on your face. “Nah,” he says finally, “I like you flustered.”
You bite your lip, eyes darting around, then settle on his, before darting around again.
The silence stretches, until you finally crack under the weight of it. “you—don’t you have a girlfriend?” you blurt, the words stumbling out in a rushed, stuttering mess.
Chan blinks, his smirk faltering for half a second before dissolving into genuine confusion. “A what?” His laugh sounds startled, almost disbelieving.
You press your lips together, suddenly regretting every life choice that led you to this moment.
Chan's eyebrows climb toward his hairline, "A girlfriend?" He repeats, "What, like, some theoretical girl who sneaks in when you're not looking?"
You gesture vaguely at him — the tousled hair, the unfairly sculpted shoulders, the effortless charm that clings to him like a second skin.
"You just—seem like the type." The words tumble out half mumbled, your gaze darting anywhere but his face.
Chan’s laughter echoes through the hallway, loud enough that you flinch—not just from the sound, but from the way it makes your stomach flip.
"Oh my god," he wheezes, leaning against the doorframe like he needs the support. "You thought I had some secret girlfriend sneaking in here to—what, fuck me while you're at work?"
You cross your arms tightly, "It's not that ridiculous," you mutter, but even you hear how weak it sounds.
"First of all, if I had a girlfriend, you'd know. I'm not subtle." His smirk tilts into something teasing. "Second, I'm very single. And third—" He pauses, tilting his head. "Wait. Is that why you've been avoiding me? You thought I was getting laid in there and didn't invite you?"
Your face burns. "No—that's not—"
His grin softens slightly, but the teasing glint in his eyes doesn’t fade. "So," he murmurs, voice dropping lower, "what is it, then?"
You swallow hard, fingers gripping the edge of your shirt so tightly the fabric threatens to tear. "Nothing," you lie. "Just—roommate stuff. Boundaries."
Chan hums, "Boundaries," he echoes, Then, "You know you can just tell me if I’m doing something that makes you uncomfortable, right?"
You swallow hard, "Yeah," you mutter, gaze trailing to his eyes and holding his stare for the first time throughout this conversation "I know."
Chan pushes off the doorframe with a shrug, "Alright then," he says, clapping his hands together like he's wiping the whole conversation away. "Takeout time. You in?"
it's like all this man does is think about food...and make you weak in the knees.
You blink, "Uh. Yeah. Sure."
Chan pulls out his phone, already scrolling through delivery apps, "Thai? Or that new Italian place that opened down the street?" He glances up, eyebrows raised expectantly. "Unless you're feeling sushi again, but last time you complained about the wasbi being too strong."
The normalcy of it — the way he remembers your stupid, offhand complaints about condiments — makes something in your chest tighten.
You clear your throat. "Thai’s good."
~
The weirdness fades slowly, chan doesn’t mention the girlfriend comment again, and you stop bolting like a startled deer every time he walks into a room.
He starts leaving his door open when he’s working, the rhythmic tap of his keyboard drifting into the hallway. You catch yourself lingering in the doorway sometimes, watching the way his brow furrows when he’s concentrating, the way he bites his tongue when he’s stuck on something.
once, he catches you staring and pats the space beside him on the bed without looking up from his laptop. “Help me brainstorm this dumb tagline,”
You perch awkwardly at first, careful not to touch him, but Chan sprawls like he owns every inch of the mattress, his thigh pressing warm against yours. and before you know it, you’re leaning into him, pointing at the screen. “That one’s terrible,”
~
Movie nights become a thing.
The first movie night starts by accident — or at least, that’s what you tell yourself. You’re curled into the corner of the couch, knees tucked under your chin, scrolling through your phone while Chan sprawls across the other end, his laptop balanced precariously on his thighs.
Then the Wi-Fi cuts out.
Chan groans, tossing his head back against the cushions. “Fucking landlord,” he mutters, jabbing at his keyboard like it’ll magically fix the connection.
You snort, watching him glare at the screen like it’s personally offended him. “Guess we’re gonna have to talk to each other,”
“Horrifying,” he deadpans, then grabs the remote off the coffee table. “a movie it is.”
You end up with some terrible action movie Chan insists is a “classic,” but neither of you pay much attention. Halfway through, you catch him watching you instead of the screen, his head turning back to the movie when you caught him.
You brush it off, focusing on the screen, but your pulse jumps when Chan shifts closer, his thigh pressing against yours.
The credits roll, and he stretches. The couch creaks as he shifts, stretching his arms overhead with a groan that does things to your already frayed nerves.
"Well," he murmurs, voice rough around the edges, "that was a cinematic masterpiece."
You snort, grateful for the distraction. "Yeah, if you consider explosions and zero plot development masterful storytelling."
Chan’s chuckles “Plot is overrated,” he says, “Sometimes you just wanna watch things blow up.”
Chan then exhales heavily and stands. “Alright, I’m hitting the shower,” he says, stretching until his shirt rides up, revealing a sliver of toned stomach. You look away — too late — and Chan’s smirk is audible in his voice. “Try not to miss me too much.”
“In your dreams,” you mutter, but your pulse jumps when he pauses by the hallway, glancing back over his shoulder.
“Yeah,” he says softly, almost to himself. “Exactly.”
You sit there, frozen, until the bathroom door clicks shut and the shower starts running. The sound of water hitting tile fills the apartment, and you press your palms to your overheated cheeks, exhaling sharply.
Stupid. You’re being stupid. That probably didn't mean anything.
But then your phone buzzes on the couch beside you, and Chan’s name lights up the screen.
forgot my towel. mind grabbing it?
You stare at the message, then at the hallway, Trap, your brain supplies helpfully.
type back,
Seriously?
he answers immediately
dead serious. i’m vulnerable here.
You groan, dragging a hand down your face, but you’re already standing. His towel hangs on the back of his bedroom door, You grab it, then walk out to the bathroom.
You knock once, then freeze when Chan calls out, “Just come in.”
Your throat goes dry. “Absolutely not.”
Chan’s laugh echoes off the tiles. “Relax, I’m decent.” A pause. “Mostly.”
you squeeze your eyes shut, then shove the towel through the gap in the door, arm outstretched as far as possible. “Here.”
Chan’s fingers brush yours as he takes the towel. His skin is warm, damp, and you jerk your hand back like you’ve been burned.
“Thanks,” he murmurs, voice closer than you expected. You can *feel* his smile through the door. “You’re a lifesaver.”
You bolt back to the living room, collapsing onto the couch with a groan.
too much for your first movie night.
~
just when things were getting normal, It happens again on a monday.
You’re home early again, the apartment is silent. You toe off your shoes, and you were about to shout a "I'm back" when you heard it again.
Low, breathy moans slipping through the crack in Chan’s door.
Your feet root to the floor, ears straining as the noise curls around you.
His voice, thick with pleasure, murmurs something you can’t quite catch — then a wet, rhythmic sound that sends heat flooding your cheeks.
apparently, this man takes his....alone time very seriously.
that's what it had to be right? you can't blame him — you've been there once or twice.
Your breath sticks in your throat, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. The sound— god, the sound — wraps around you, thick and heady, Chan's voice breaking on a moan that scrapes down your spine.
You should move. should bolt to your room, slam the door, drown it out with headphones. but your feet refuse to cooperate.
You tiptoe into the hallway, his door is cracked just enough, and your pulse hammers so loud its drowning out any other coherent thought in your brain.
A peak wouldn't hurt...
The door creaks faintly as it opens another inch, just enough for you to see.
Chan sits on the edge of his bed, but not like you thought. Not hidden, not private. No, this is something else entirely.
A ring light casts a glow over his bare skin, the camera propped on his desk angled perfectly to capture every inch of him. His laptop screen is open with a reflection of him and a rapid stream of comments too fast to read.
Oh.
Oh god.
Your stomach drops, then tightens all at once.
Chan’s head is tipped back, his throat working around a groan as his hand moves lazily between his thighs.
You press yourself against the hallway wall, pulse hammering, thoughts running a hundred miles per hour.
you did not expect this.
His breath hitches, a sharp, punched out sound, and your nails dig into your palms.
Chan’s fingers twist at the base of his cock, his thumb smearing precum in slow circles. The camera catches the way his abs flex as he arches into his own touch, his voice ragged when he murmurs, "Wish you were here." before he bites down on his lower lip. "Could use a mouth right now."
You watch, frozen in place, as his thighs tremble, his free hand fisting in the sheets beside him. The comments on his screen blur into a frenzy of emojis and a bunch of pinging donations. His breath stutters, his jaw clenching as his strokes turn erratic, desperate. “Yeah,” he gasps, voice breaking, “yeah, just like that—”
Then he comes with a choked moan, stripes of white painting his stomach as his back arches off the bed.
Gosh, he’s gorgeous — and you barely register the dampness between your own thighs until Chan slumps back against the pillows, chest heaving.
Chan exhales sharply, his fingers still lazily stroking his softening cock as he leans forward, just enough to tap something on his laptop.
he ends the stream with a wink and a low, raspy comment that you didn't quite catch. The screen goes black, and you barely have half a second to process the situation before your body kicks into motion.
You bolt down the hallway, socked feet silent against the hardwood.
Your bedroom door clicks shut behind you just as Chan gets up. You press your back against the door, lungs burning from holding your breath, and listen.
Water runs in the sink. A towel rustles. Then you hear footsteps.
They pause outside your door.
You purse your lips and hold your breath. Then Chan hums, before his footsteps retreat down the hall.
You slump against the door, exhaling shakily.
Holy shit.
Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you fumble to pull it out.
you home early?
You stare at the text, thumbs hovering over the screen. Lie, your brain screams. Tell him no. but then how would you fake going into the apartment if you're already inside the apartment?
Just got back
You hit send before you can second guess it.
Cool. Dinner soon?
Your fingers hover over the screen, the weight of his question pressing against your ribs like a stone. The air in your room feels — too thick — and suddenly the idea of sitting across from Chan at the kitchen table, pretending you didn’t just watch him get off on camera, makes your stomach twist.
Gonna shower first.
Your phone buzzes again before you can even set it down,
Can I join?
You nearly drop it, blood roaring in your ears. Then—
jk. don’t use up all the hot water.
You toss your phone onto your bed and drag a hand down your face with a sigh.
You're deeply fucked.
~
That night, you stayed up aggressively googling him till his page came up.
Onlychans? really?
you'd laugh at the username if it wasn't for the videos that popped up when you clicked on his profile.
Chan, shirtless, sprawled across what is unmistakably your living room couch, one hand lazily palming himself through his sweatpants.
Chan, biting his lip as he slicks lube down his cock, the camera angled to capture every twitch of his abs.
Chan, moaning, his head thrown back against the pillows of his bed —your apartment, your shared space — while his other hand works something thick and glistening into his—
You slam the laptop shut.
Your face burns. Your pulse thrums in your ears. The apartment is silent — Chan’s out for a run, or so he’d claimed when he’d left an hour ago.
You open the laptop again.
It’s Curiosity. That’s all.
It starts innocently enough — just checking his schedule, really. A quick glance at his calendar pinned to the fridge.
"For productivity purposes," Chan had joked when you asked.
Then, sure enough, it spiraled.
You memorize the time of his streams, monday nights, Friday nights, he'd timed them perfectly in sync with times he knew you wouldn't be home. that's why you've been blissfully unaware of him filming in different locations around your shared apartment for the past two and a half months.
And the occasional late night surprise session that leaves you fumbling for your earbuds at 1 am. You'd literally be home, but he'd go live anyway. was he into that?
you were into it too, admittedly, because you turned out to be just as shameful as him.
The notification pops up at 1:47 am on a Wednesday 'Chan is live!' (yes, you turned his notifs on) and your fingers freeze mid doom scroll through Instagram.
your room is dark except for the glow of your phone screen, you're supposed to be asleep.
You tap the notification.
Chan’s face fills the screen, his grin already in place as he adjusts the camera. He’s shirtless, propped against the headboard of his bed, one arm draped lazily over his bent knee. The ring light casts shadows along his abs, highlighting every dip and curve.
"Late night surprise," he murmurs, "*Miss me?*" aaaand heat is already pooling low in your stomach.
His fingers work on hinseld, slow and teasing at first, thumb smearing precum in lazy circles while he talks— god, he sure does talk, filthy praises and half formed fantasies spilling from his lips like he’s whispering them directly into your ear. You bite your lip to stifle a gasp, your other hand slipping under the waistband of your pajama shorts.
Chan arches his back on screen, his free hand gripping the sheets beside him. "Fuck, you guys are greedy tonight," he rasps, stroking himself slowly. His thumb presses against the head on every upstroke, just how you’ve learned he likes it — learned from watching, from nights spent with your phone hidden under your pillow, screen dimmed to its lowest setting.
"Fuck, m'close," Chan groans, your fingers moving between your thighs in time with his rhythm, matching the pace, hips shifting under the sheets, your breath coming shallow.
It’s not the first time you’ve watched him like this, but it’s the first time you’ve done it live, with the shaky thrill of knowing he has no idea you’re here.
A whimper almost escapes you when he swipes his thumb over the head of his cock, his breath hitching. You press your palm over your mouth, stifling the sound.
The last thing you need is him hearing you through the thin walls.
The thought alone, him catching you, realizing, sends a sharp jolt between your legs. You squeeze your thighs together, chasing the feeling before it slips away.
His hand speeds up, the wet sound of his skin moving over his cock muffled only slightly by the mic's noise suppression. "God, fuck—gonna come so hard for you," he grits out, his voice cracking on the last word.
You press your free hand harder against your mouth, fingers digging into your own cheek as you watch his stomach tense, the muscles there flexing under the sheen of sweat. Your own movements stutter when he lets out a low, punched out moan, his hips jerking up into his fist.
You’re so close you can’t think straight. The coil in your stomach winds tighter with every stroke of his hand, every filthy sound he makes, matching his rhythm like you’re desperate to prove something— like if you can just finish at the same time, it’ll mean something. Stupid. It’s stupid. But your hips jerk anyway, your breath coming in short, shaky bursts against your palm.
"Fuck, fuck—" His hand stills suddenly, fingers tightening around the base of his cock as he tips his head back, you watch as his body locks up for one second — and then he’s coming, stripes of white painting his stomach, his chest.
Your own climax crashes over you at the same time, so violently you nearly choke on the gasp you swallow down, your back arching off the bed as pleasure burns through you in hot, dizzying waves.
He’s still catching his breath, his free hand dragging lazily through the mess on his stomach, fingers tracing the lines of cum with a slow, absentminded swipe.
His lips curl into that stupid, effortless smirk you’ve seen a hundred times,
"Mmm, fuck," he murmurs, voice rough around the edges, still a little breathless. "You all got me good tonight."
He reaches for a towel off screen, the muscles in his arm flexing as he wipes himself clean. You watch, transfixed, as he tosses the towel aside and leans closer to the camera, cheeks are still flushed, his lashes low.
"Hope that was worth the wait," he says, eyes flickering to the chat before he grins. "gosh you guys are generous with the tips tonight." and you catch a few of the comments.
slave4u: how bout you come and give me that tip
sweetheartonline: gone broke just for you </3
Chan just chuckles, shaking his head. "Alright, alright, I’m done. You’re all insatiable." He stretches his arms above his head, his torso arching beautifully, "Next stream’s friday. Be good for me til then, yeah?"
With one last wink, he reaches forward, and the screen goes black.
You yank your earbuds out, Your chest heaves, your skin still buzzing, your thighs still sticky, and you press the heels of your palms against your closed eyelids until colors bloom behind them.
you find it ridiculous that you're actually enjoying this, perverted thoughts. Stupid. So stupid.
~
Two weeks pass after that. You're hyperaware of Chan’s presence in a way that makes your skin itch. Every casual touch sends sparks skittering up your spine.
You try to act normal, you really do.
But you catch yourself staring at his hands when he cooks, remembering the way they moved over himself on screen, and have to physically shake your head to clear the image.
Chan, for his part, seems to thrive on your discomfort. He leaves his bedroom door cracked just a little wider than necessary, and infuriatingly, he's rarely not shirtless.
it's okay. you're okay. at least you tell yourself that.
till it's Friday morning, marking the beginning of your third month.
the apartment is quiet, still bathed in the soft gold of early morning light filtering through the kitchen window. you hum under your breath as you flip pancakes.
then Chan emerges, shirtless, his sweatpants slung low on his hips, hair still messy from sleep.
He leans against the doorway, watching you with that lazy, knowing smirk. “Morning,” he rasps, voice still thick with sleep.
this feels too domestic for your liking.
“Morning,” you mumble, not turning around.
Chan pads closer, bare feet silent against the hardwood, until he’s right behind you. His warmth radiates against your back, “Smells good,” he murmurs, and you swear his lips brush the shell of your ear.
The spatula clatters against the pan. too domestic.
Chan chuckles, as he reaches around you to steal a piece of pancake from the prepared stack. His chest presses against your shoulder, his skin searing where it touches yours. “Careful,” he teases, popping the bite into his mouth. “You’ll burn them.”
The pancake batter sizzles violently as you stand there, frozen, Chan’s body heat scorching against your back.
His fingers brush your hip as he reaches for the syrup, and you nearly drop the spatula again.
"You’re jumpy this morning," Chan muses, leaning against the counter beside you. "Bad dreams?"
sure, if 'bad' and 'wet' are the same thing. "something like that."
Chan hums, tilting his head as he studies you. "Got plans today?"
You flip another pancake onto the growing stack. "Just groceries later." The words come out steadier than you feel.
His grin grows. "Mind if I tag along?"
You shrug, "It’s just errands."
Chan snags another pancake, leaning into your space until his bare shoulder presses against yours. "Exactly. Sounds thrilling." His fingers brush yours as he steals the spatula, flipping the last pancake with a flick of his wrist. "Come on. I’ll even push the cart."
You huff a laugh despite yourself. "You’ll get bored in five minutes."
"Bet?" He bumps your hip with his, "Loser buys ice cream."
~
The grocery store is exactly as mundane as you predicted, but Chan makes it unbearable in ways you didn’t anticipate — his fingers lingering when he passes you items, his chest pressing against your back in crowded aisles like it’s accidental. By the time you hit the freezer section, your nerves are frayed.
"Pick a flavor," Chan murmurs, chin hooked over your shoulder as he reaches past you to open the glass door. His breath ghosts across your cheek. "I’m feeling generous."
The freezer air hits your face, but it does nothing to cool the heat creeping up your neck. Chan’s arm brushes yours as he leans in, his fingers tracing the edge of a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream. "This one," he decides, plucking it from the shelf. "tastes like toothpaste sometimes, but eh" he said with a shrug.
You snort, grabbing a classic vanilla, but he plucks it from your hands and replaces it with something absurdly decadent, something with caramel swirls and chocolate chunks.
"Live a little," he grins, tossing it into the cart.
The checkout line is agony. Chan stands close enough that his knuckles keep brushing the small of your back, each touch sending sparks up your spine.
the cashier — an exhausted looking college student — scans everything, he pushed your hand aside when you tried to pay, and handed the cashier his card.
he caried all the groceries too, and swatted your hand away when you try to carry any.
it feels like he's your boyfriend.
The apartment door clicks shut behind you both, grocery bags rustling as Chan kicks off his shoes. You’re still fumbling with the laces of your sneakers when he brushes past you with the plastic bags.
You follow, already going to pull things out and putting them in their designated cupboards, Chan’s already rummaging through to find the ice cream, His grin is wide as he holds it up. "Scoops or straight from the tub?"
"freezer" you deadpan, "it's probably melted by now"
his shoulders slump a little, turning around to place the tubs in the freezer.
"and, scoops," you mutter, "We’re not animals."
he snickers, "Debatable."
Chan nudges the freezer door shut with his hip, the ice cream safely stowed away for later. "Movie night?" he suddenly asks, casual as anything, "Haven't done one in a while."
You nod, "Yeah. Okay."
You retreat to your room to change, fingers fumbling with the hem of your shirt before you even reach the door. The fabric sticks to your skin, too warm and you peel it off with a relieved sigh the second you’re alone.
The dresser drawer squeaks as you rummage for shorts and a tank top since its getting too hot, but your hands freeze mid reach when you hear Chan’s door creak open down the hall.
The unmistakable sound of fabric hitting the floor — jeans, probably — makes your throat go dry. You strain to listen, pulse hammering in your ears, as Chan hums under his breath. Something clatters, a belt buckle, and then the soft rustle of fresh clothes being pulled on.
You yank your own shorts up so fast you nearly trip, ears burning. Pathetic.
When you emerge, Chan’s already sprawled across the couch in loose joggers and that stupidly thin white tank top.
"You took forever," Chan drawls from the couch, already eating his way through a popcorn bucket.
"You're picking?" he scoffs, tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth. "After the garbage you called 'cinema' last time?"
You snatch the remote before he can lunge for it. "You picked Twilight unironically last time."
Chan clutches his chest like you've wounded him. "Bella Swan is a cultural icon."
You scoff, scrolling through the options, ignoring Chan's dramatic sigh as he flops back against the cushions. His knee bumps yours, but you don't pull away.
"Fine," he huffs. "But if it's another pretentious indie film where people whisper for two hours, I'm revoking your movie privileges."
"Fine," you grumble back, scrolling past a dozen of said pretentious indie films with moody black and white thumbnails. "But only because I pity your attention span."
Chan's grin is immediate as he stretches an arm along the back of the couch, fingers brushing your shoulder.
"pick something with action," then wiggles his eyebrows, "Or nudity."
You elbow him hard in the ribs.
"Ow—," Chan wheezes, but he's laughing, catching your wrist before you can retreat. His fingers are warm and rough against your pulse point, thumb pressing into the flutter there. "Violent and kinky," he muses, tugging you closer until your shoulders press together. "I like it."
You yank your wrist free and snatch up the remote again, scrolling through titles.
Chan's laughter vibrates through the couch cushions as you land on something, anything, just to shut him up. The movie starts with a car chase, tires screeching, glass shattering. Perfect. Loud enough to distract whenever Chan shifts beside you.
"Action and nudity," Chan murmurs, nodding approvingly at the screen where some actor's shirt rips open during a fight scene. "You do know me."
You sink lower into the couch, arms crossed. "Shut up and watch."
The first ten minutes of the movie blur into a haze of gunfire and badly timed one-liners, the volume turned up just loud enough to drown out the way Chan’s fingers keep tracing idle patterns against your shoulder.
You focus resolutely on the screen, but Chan’s warmth beside you is impossible to ignore. His knee presses into yours, his bare arm brushing against yours every time he reaches for more popcorn, and each touch sends a jolt of electricity down your spine.
Then, during a lull in the action, Chan shifts beside you, his hand sliding from your shoulder to the back of your neck. His fingers curl gently into your hair, thumb brushing the sensitive skin behind your ear.
"You’re not even watching," he mmurmur.
You swallow hard, refusing to look at him. "Am too."
Chan hums, unconvinced, his thumb stroking slow circles against your skin. "Liar."
His accusation hangs between you, thick and charged, and suddenly the movie feels like background noise.
His fingers tighten slightly in your hair, tipping your head back just enough that you have no choice but to meet his gaze.
His eyes are dark, there’s no teasing smirk now, no playful glint — just hunger.
Your breath hitches audibly.
Chan’s thumb brushes the corner of your mouth, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Tell me to stop."
You don’t.
His lips crash into yours before you can form a coherent thought, the remote clattering to the floor as your hands fist in his shirt.
Chan groans into your mouth, fingers tightening in your hair as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours with so much desperation.
The movie drones on, but all you can feel is the way his hips jerk forward against yours as you press closer. His hands slide down to grip your waist, hauling you halfway into his lap without breaking the kissl.
"You’ve been driving me insane," Chan pants against your lips, one hand slipping under your shirt to trace the dip of your spine. "Watching me, pretending you weren’t—fuck—" His words dissolve into a groan when you grind down against him, the hard line of his cock pressing insistently against your thigh.
He knows you know. he has all this time. The realization makes your eyes widen slightly—but it doesn’t surprise you. Not really.
Not when Chan’s fingers tighten possessively around your hips, his teeth scraping your lower lip like he’s been waiting for this moment just as long as you have.
His palm slides up your ribcage, thumb brushing the underside of your breast through your thin tank top, and your breath stutters against his mouth.
Of course he knew. The cracked doors, the late night streams he timed too perfectly with your schedule. Those weren't just coincidences.
You pull back just enough to see his face, your eyes wide with the realization that just dawned on you.
his lips are swollen from your kisses, panting, “Surprise,” he rasps, voice wrecked.
Chan’s grip shifts, hauling you fully into his lap, and you gasp when his hardness presses against you. His chuckle vibrates through your chest as he rolls his hips up, slow and filthy. “Thought you’d never crack,” he murmurs, lips grazing your jaw.
Your hands fist in his tank top, the fabric damp with sweat where it clings to his chest. “You—asshole” you pant, hips jerking against his involuntarily. “All that teasing—”
Chan's grin widens "All what teasing?" he murmurs, pressing an open mouthed kisses to your neck. "You mean leaving my door open just a little too wide?"
His teeth scrape your skin, "Or maybe streaming at exactly the times I knew you'd be home?" His palm cups your breast through your shirt, thumb brushing over your nipple.
You gasp when he pinches lightly, hips jerking against his. "You're insane," you manage, though the words come out more breathless than angry.
Chan laughs against your throat, before his teeth sink into the tender skin just below your ear. Your nails dig into his shoulders as his hands slide down to grip your hips, guiding your movements as you grind against him. The friction is dizzying, the thin fabric of your shorts doing nothing to dull the heat of him pressed against you.
"Insane?" His breath is hot against your damp skin. "Baby, aren't the one who watched my streams every other night?" His fingers slip under the hem of your tank top, tracing the waistband of your shorts with maddening slowness.
You whine, the sound high and desperate in your throat, and nod before you can think better of it. The admission burns your cheeks, but the way Chan groans against your skin makes it worth it.
"yeah?" he rasps, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes.
Chan’s fingers flex against your waist, his breath hot against your lips. “Every fucking time,” he admits, voice rough “I’d pretend it was your hand on me,” His thumb presses into the dip of your hipbone, “Your mouth.” His gaze drops to your parted lips, then back up, heavy lidded. “You have no idea how many times I came thinking about you watching me.”
Chan exhales sharply, his nose brushing yours. “cancelled tonight’s stream,” he murmurs, lips grazing yours with every word. “would rather beg you to fuck me instead.” His palm slides up your ribcage, fingers tracing the edge of your bra through your tank top.
“You don’t have to beg,” you murmur, lips brushing his as you swing your leg off his lap. Chan exhales sharply, hands gripping your waist tighter like he’s afraid you’ll pull away entirely, but then you’re sliding to your knees between his legs, fingers hooking into the waistband of his joggers.
His breath catches when you tug them down just enough to free his cock, already hard and leaking against his stomach.
gosh he's even bigger than he looks on camera.
Chan's breath stutters when your fingers wrap around him, his hips jerking into your grip before he can stop himself. "Fuck—" His voice cracks, a hand flying to fist in your hair as you stroke him slow, watching the way his eyelids flutter.
He's hot and heavy in your palm, already slick at the tip, and the way his thighs tense when you swipe your thumb over the head is obscene.
Chan’s fingers tighten in your hair when your lips brush the head of his cock, his breath stuttering out in a ragged groan. “Fuck—fuck—” His hips jerk up instinctively, but you pull back just enough to tease, swirling your tongue over the tip without taking him deeper, and you can’t resist glancing up through your lashes to watch his face twist with pleasure.
“So loud,” you giggle, blowing a slow breath over the wetness you’ve left behind. Chan’s thighs tense under your palms. “All those streams,” you continue, stroking him lazily with one hand while the other traces the vein running along his length, “and you never moaned like this.”
Chan’s laugh comes out strained, his chest heaving. “it wasn't you,” he grits out, hips rolling up into your touch. His fingers tug at your hair, guiding you back to him with a quiet desperation that sends heat pooling low in your stomach. “Now stop teasing—”
You swallow him down before he can finish, humming around him just to feel the way his whole body jerks. His moan is filthy, unfiltered, his hips canting up into the wet heat of your mouth like he can’t help it.
You take him deeper, throat working around him, and Chan’s fingers tighten in your hair, not guiding, just holding on for dear life.
“god—” His voice cracks when you hollow your cheeks, tongue pressing flat against the underside of his cock. His other hand fists the couch cushion beside his thigh, knuckles going white. “So good—shit—you take me so fucking good—”
You pull off with a slick pop, lips brushing the flushed tip as you peer up at him, teasing, thumb swiping over the bead of precome gathered there.
Chan’s chest heaves, his abs flexing as he stares down at you, His grip in your hair tightens just enough to sting — a silent warning — but you just grin and duck back down, sucking him deep until his thighs tremble.
Chan curses, his hips lifting off the couch as you bob your head, the wet sounds obscenely loud even with the movie still playing forgotten in the background.
“Gonna—” He's cut off by his own gasp, “Gonna come if you keep—”
You pull off with a wet sound, lips slick and swollen, and replace your mouth with both hands, jerking him so fast his hips stutter off the couch, his breath coming in ragged, punched out gasps.
“Wait—fuck—” Chan chokes out, fingers scrambling at your shoulders, but it’s too late — his back arches off the cushions, muscles locking tight as he spills hot over your fingers and his own stomach.
His thighs shake under your palms, his cock twitching in your grip as you stroke him through it, slower now, milking every last drop until he’s whimpering and oversensitive, his hands weakly pushing at your wrists.
“Turn around,” Chan rasps, chest rising and falling rapidly. His fingers slide from your hair to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing your spit slick bottom lip. “Want you riding me.”
Your stomach flips at the command, but before you can move, Chan’s hands are gripping your waist, hauling you up onto the couch with surprising strength. He settles you over his lap in one smooth motion, your thighs bracketing his hips, and the sudden press of his bare skin against yours makes you gasp.
Chan groans, fingers digging into the meat of your thighs as he leans back to look at you, really look at you, his gaze dragging down your body with a hunger that makes your skin prickle.
he hooks a thumb into the waistband of your shorts and tugs, sliding them off, his breath hitching when he finds you already soaked through your panties.
"Fuck," he exhales, dragging the damp fabric aside with one finger, his touch featherlight as he traces your slit. His other hand cups the back of your neck, pulling you down until your foreheads touch, his breath mingling with yours. "You're so wet," he murmurs, voice rough with disbelief. "Just from sucking me off?"
You nod, hips canting into his touch shamelessly, his finger circles your clit —once, twice, before dipping lower, sliding into you, crooking just right to make your back arch. His free hand fists in your tank top, dragging you closer until your chest presses against his, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide the way your nipples harden against him.
His thumb pressing firm circles against your clit, and your vision whites out for a second — just long enough to miss the way his free hand fists in your tank top, yanking it up until the fabric bunches just above your chest. His mouth replaces his fingers, teeth scraping over your nipple through the lace of your bra, and you gasp, hips stuttering against his hand.
“Thought about this,” he pants against your skin, his tongue lapping at the wet spot he’s left behind. “Every goddamn stream—imagined you like this, wet and desperate for me.” His finger curls again, dragging a broken moan from your throat, and his grin is all teeth when he leans back to watch you unravel. “Knew you’d be prettier than I imagined.”
You grab his wrist, stilling his movements, and his brows furrow — confused, frustrated — until you swing your leg over him, straddling his lap properly this time. His cock, half hard again, twitches against your thigh as you grind down, the friction drawing a ragged groan from both of you.
Chan’s hands fly to your hips, guiding your movements as you rock against him, his breath hot against your collarbone.
“Wanna feel you,” you murmur, fingers fumbling between you to grip him, slicking him up with your own arousal. Chan’s head falls back against the couch, his Adam’s apple bobbing as you line him up, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance.
You sink down onto him with a choked gasp, thighs trembling as he stretches you open inch by agonizing inch. Chan’s hands clamp around your hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, but he doesn’t rush you —just watches as you take him deeper.
"Fuck," you whimper, nails scraping his shoulders when he bottoms out, your body shuddering at the unfamiliar stretch. "You’re—god—you’re so big—"
Chan groans, hips twitching beneath you, fighting not to thrust up. "Yeah?" His voice is wrecked, breath hitching as you clench around him. "Feel good, baby? Stuffed full of me?" His fingers trail up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts while you adjust. "taking me so good."
You roll your hips experimentally, and Chan’s head thuds back against the couch, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. "That’s it," he rasps, hands sliding to grip your ass. "Use me—ride me just like you imagined."
The words send heat flaring up your neck, but you can’t deny them, can’t stop the way your body responds, hips rolling in slow circles. Chan hisses between his teeth when you clench around him, his fingers flexing against your skin.
"Christ—fuck—you’re so tight," he grits out, eyes locked on where you’re joined. "Bet you thought about this every night, hmm? Watching me stroke my cock on cam while you fucked yourself on your fingers?"
You whimper, thighs quivering as you lift yourself halfway up before sinking back down, his cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside you. his breath stutters, his hips jerking up to meet you halfway, and the sudden shift punches a ragged moan from your throat. "Oh fuck—Chan—"
"Say it," he demands, thumb brushing your clit as you bounce in his lap. His voice is rough, wrecked, his pupils blown wide, "Tell me how much you thought about this, how many times you came imagining me inside you."
You gasp when he pinches your clit lightly, your rhythm faltering, "Every—ah—every night," you admit, nails digging into his shoulders as you grind down harder. "Watched you—touched myself—god, wanted you—"
Chan groans, fingers tightening on your hips as he guides your movements, thrusting up to meet you. "Knew it," he pants, lips brushing yours with every ragged breath.
"Knew you were getting off to me—fuck—your little gasps when I’d look at the camera—" His hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing your nipples through your bra. "Bet you came so pretty for me, huh? All quiet so I wouldn’t hear?"
You nod frantically, hips stuttering as his cock hits that spot inside you, the pleasure building dangerously fast. "Y-yes—*fuck*—Chan, please—"
"Please what?" he murmurs, lips curling into a smirk even as his own breathing falters. He slows your movements deliberately, dragging you through each excruciatingly slow roll of your hips. "Need me to fuck you harder, baby?"
You whine, fingers tangling in his hair as you try to chase your own rhythm, but his grip on your hips is unrelenting. "Yes—god, yes—"
he flips you onto your stomach before you can finish begging, his hands rough and sure as he shoves your knees apart against the couch cushions. The fabric burns against your bare thighs when he yanks your hips back, his cock sliding out of you with a slick sound that makes your face burn.
You barely have time to whimper before his fingers dig into your waist, lifting you on all fours with a sharp tug — his chest presses hot against your back, his breath ragged in your ear as he lines himself up again.
he doesn’t give you a second to adjust. He slams into you with one brutal thrust, punching the air from your lungs as your elbows buckle against the cushions. His cock stretches you open deeper than before, the angle hitting deeper, and you choke on a scream when his hips snap forward again, setting a punishing pace before you can catch your breath.
Hands clamp around your hips, fingers bruising as he drags you back onto him with every thrust. The couch creaks beneath you, the sound drowned out by chan’s ragged groans and the slick slap of skin on skin. His rhythm is merciless, no teasing now, just pure, desperate need as he fucks into you like he’s been starving for it.
Chan's grip on your hips shifts — one hand sliding up to fist in your hair, yanking your head back until your spine bows beautifully beneath him. "Fuck, look at you," he growls, his voice rough with something between awe and hunger as he takes in the sight of you spread out beneath him.
His fingers tighten, pulling just enough to make your scalp prickle, before his palm cracks down against your ass, the sound echoing through the room louder than the forgotten movie still playing in the background.
You gasp, thighs trembling as the heat blooms across your skin, but Chan doesn’t give you a second to recover. His hips snap forward, driving into you with a force that has your nails scrabbling against the couch cushions for purchase. "Take it," he orders, voice wrecked, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips hard enough to leave bruises. "God, you feel so good—clenching around me like—" His words dissolve into a groan as he picks up the pace, each thrust punching a ragged sound from your throat.
His free hand slides around your waist, pressing firm circles against your clit, and the dual sensation has your vision blurring at the edges. "That’s it," he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear as his rhythm falters for just a second, "Gonna make you come just like this—spread out, taking me so well—"
His thumb presses harder against your clit, and your back arches involuntarily, a broken moan tearing from your lips as the pleasure crests suddenly, violently.
Chan curses, his grip tightening as you clench around him, your body shuddering through the waves of it. "Yeah, there you go, gonna cum for me?"
You nod vigorously, your fingers twisting into the couch cushions as Chan’s thrusts turn erratic, his breath ragged against your ear. "Cum with me," he rasps, and it’s all you need.
Your body clenches around him like a vice, pleasure crashing over you in waves so intense your vision whites out for a second. Chan groans, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you with a broken gasp, his forehead dropping between your shoulder blades.
Chan pulls out slowly, hissing through his teeth when you clench around him reflexively, oversensitive.
The couch cushions are damp beneath your trembling thighs, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat as you collapse onto your stomach, chest heaving. Chan exhales sharply, running a hand down your spine, before flipping you onto your back, more gently this time.
The shift makes you wince, your body still thrumming with aftershocks, he slides off the couch onto his knees between your legs. His palms skate up your inner thighs, spreading them apart with slowly despite your weak protest. "Shh," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee. "Just wanna taste you."
You squirm when his breath ghosts over your sensitive skin, but Chan’s grip tightens, holding you open. "Chan—" His name comes out hoarse, your voice wrecked. "I’m—ah—too sensitive—"
Chan’s fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, holding you open despite your squirming. His tongue flicks over your clit, just enough to make your hips jerk, oversensitive and trembling.
“You can take it,” he murmurs against your skin, “You’re a big girl, yeah?” His teeth graze your inner thigh, before his mouth closes over you again, and your back arches off the couch with a choked gasp.
You can take it. You do.
Every swipe of his tongue sends sparks shooting up your spine, your fingers twisting into his hair — not to pull him away, but to keep him right there, his mouth working you through the dizzying aftershocks of your orgasm.
Chan hums against you, the vibration making your toes curl, and his grip on your thighs tightens when you try to press them together instinctively. “None of that,” he chides, nipping at your skin before dragging his tongue up your slit again, “Just let me have you.”
You whine, hips caving into his mouth despite the oversensitivity, the pleasure tipping into something almost painful, but you don’t tell him to stop. Couldn’t if you wanted to.
"so sweet," he groans against you, the words vibrating through your oversensitive nerves. His fingers dig into your hips, pinning you down when you try to squirm away from the intensity. "No— stay still."
You whimper, but obey, letting him spread you wider as his tongue delves deeper, circling your entrance before dragging back up in one long, torturous lick.
"Chan—please—" you gasp, but you’re not even sure what you’re begging for — him to stop or never, ever stop.
His response is to hook your leg over his shoulder, angling you deeper into his mouth, and then he’s sucking you in, his tongue working you with precision. You sob his name, your hips jerking uncontrollably as the pressure builds again, too soon, too much—
You choke out his name, fingers scrambbling at his shoulders, a desperate attempt to ground yourself, before your hips jerk violently against his mouth.
“Chan, gonna—oh god—” The warning spills out brokenly, your thighs clamp around his head as you come with a shuddering gasp, your back bowing off the couch as pleasure rips through you.
he groans against you, the vibration wringing another broken sound from your throat, he doesn’t pull away, just laps at you greedily, his tongue dragging through the mess you’ve made of him with slow strokes.
“Fuck,” he rasps against your skin before pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “You’re perfect like this.” His thumb brushes your clit once, testing, and you jerk with a gasp, your body still thrumming with aftershocks.
Chan grins up at you, all dark eyes and swollen lips, before dragging his tongue up your slit one last time.
Chan rises from between your thighs with a groan, his lips slick and glistening with you, you realize with a jolt — before his mouth crashes into yours, the kiss filthy and possessive, his tongue licking into your mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair, sticky with sweat, and he moans into your mouth when you tug — sharp, just to feel him shudder.
You pull away eventually, both of you panting, sticky with sweat and other things, and collapse onto the couch in a tangle of limbs. Chan drags you half on top of him, your head resting against his chest where you can hear his heartbeat still racing beneath his skin.
His fingers trace idle patterns along your back, the movie’s credits roll, forgotten, casting flickering shadows across the ceiling.
You nuzzle into his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat slowing down, the rise and fall of his breath beneath your cheek. His skin is warm and slightly sticky, and you press a kiss to it without thinking, smiling when his fingers pause for a second before resuming their path along your spine.
"Quit staring," you murmur, tilting your head up just enough to catch him watching you with an expression that makes your stomach flip. soft, almost awed, Chan huffs a laugh, his thumb brushing your hipbone where he’d gripped hard enough to leave marks earlier.
"Can’t help it," he admits, voice rough with exhaustion "You’re kinda fucking gorgeous like this."
You snort, but your cheeks heat anyway, and Chan’s grin widens when he notices. He shifts beneath you, rolling just enough to tuck you more firmly against his side, his arm a solid weight across your waist.
The movement makes you wince, your thighs ache in a way that’s equal parts delicious and punishing, and Chan’s fingers tighten reflexively, his smirk turning smug.
"Sorry," he lies, and you bite on his shoulder just to hear him yelp.
his yelp dissolves into laughter, his fingers digging into your sides as he squirms away from your teeth. “Fuck, ow,” he complains, but his grin ruins the effect, “You bite hard—should’ve known you’d be a menace.”
You grin against his shoulder, pressing another kiss to the reddening mark you left behind. “Payback,” you murmur, tracing the outline with your tongue just to feel him shiver. Chan groans, his hips jerking reflexively beneath you, and you freeze when you feel him stirring against your thigh—already half hard again.
“Seriously?” you ask, incredulous, and Chan has the audacity to look proud, his smirk widening as he rolls his hips up against you.
“What?” he teases, voice dripping with false innocence. “Can’t help it—you’re right there, all warm and fucked out—” His hand slides down your back, fingers skimming the curve of your ass before squeezing lightly. “And you bit me. That’s basically foreplay.”
You press a hand to Chan’s chest when he tries to roll you beneath him again, your thighs still trembling from the last round. “Shower,” you mumble, and Chan makes a wounded noise against your collarbone in protest.
“Five more minutes,” he tries, lips trailing up your neck like he’s trying to convince you with his mouth.
You laugh, breathless, and squirm out of his grip before he can distract you properly. “No—shower,” you insist, swatting at his hands when they try to drag you back. “We’re disgusting.”
Chan pouts — actually pouts, like this big hunk of a man didn't just fuck the daylights out of you — and flops back against the couch with a dramatic sigh. “Fine,” he grumbles, but his eyes track your every movement as you stand, snickering when you wobble slightly on unsteady legs.
You stumble towards the bathroom, then you glance back at Chan, sprawled across the couch with his arms behind his head, watching you with that stupid, smug grin, and ask, "When’s your next stream again?"
his grin falters into confusion when your question registers. "Monday," he says automatically, his brows furrowing, "Why?"
You hum, "Just thinking," then you shrug, "maybe I’ll join you next time."
he's caught off guard when you leave him hanging and close the bathroom door behind you, "don't start something you can't finish!"
