Imminent Dreamer Muse

Pudding & Hotteok / late 30s / always tired / always Ateez

[imminentdreamermuse]

ImminentDreamerMuse Masterlist

These stories are all MDNI, explicit content, 18+ only

They are all complete fiction and doesn't represent the real people etc.

Hongjoong

The Producer

Seonghwa

Coming soon...

Yunho

That's Not What You Like

Yeosang

Coming soon...

San

The Producer

Mingi

Catch the Sunrise

Wooyoung

Coming soon...

Jongho

Coming soon...

[flagversion]

logbook #215 san for dolce & gabbana

[imminentdreamermuse]

Just a teaser for what's coming up next...

[imminentdreamermuse]

Catching the Sunrise

Pairing: bf!Mingi x afab!reader

Word count: 1.18k

Genre: smut

Summary: Mingi has been away and you missed him, waking up from a very hot dream you find yourself wrapped up in him

Warnings: MDNI, explicit content 18+ only, nicknames, cuteness, fingering, piv, what's a plot?

This is complete fiction and doesn't represent the real people etc.

***************

Fic Masterlist

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It was still the early blue of the morning that only lovers see. Usually you wouldn't be awake at this time but you had woken up from a very enjoyable dream with heat spreading between your legs.

You glance across the pillow. In the morning light Mingi looks beautiful, his eyes closed and quiet breaths from his soft lips. You don't want to wake him up - he just came back from Japan and his flight got in late. He didn't even bother getting fully undressed, just crashed on your bed in a tangle of blankets and necklaces.

You turn around, staring at the mole on his cheek and the way his chains are resting against his throat really isn't helping.

Your movements make him shift though and his big hand lands on you stomach and pulls you in toward him. Now, flush against his chest, you feel every part of him as his leg snakes over yours.

You try to move a little but all that does is make your ass press into him and you clench, the only thing between you is the fabric of his boxers.

You're unsure what to do, his warm breath caressing your neck and his arm heavy around you. All you can think about is the things he did to you in your dream and you press your thighs together.

But you're so tightly wrapped into him that the small movement makes your ass rub against his cock and even in sleep his breathing hitches and he grinds his hips back into you. You stifle a gasp as you can't help but press back into him more.

You feel his cock starting to harden and arch your back further into him, the pressure between your thighs becoming unbearable. Mingi’s arm tightens further around you and he groans in your ear.

'Morning baby,’ he rumbles, his voice deep and gravelly with sleep. His hand slowly moves down and he grips your hip, controlling your movements in his lap and grinds you into him.

‘Did you miss me?’ He asks, lips against your shoulder.

‘Mmhmm, missed you,’ you say. Your hips are in rhythm with each other and your thighs slick with wetness.

That's when he bites down on your shoulder and you cry out, digging your nails into his arm. He soothes the bite and moves his hand down between your legs.

‘I want to hear how much you missed me,’ he says into the curve of your neck, peppering kisses as he goes.

His hand between your legs presses gently but he doesn't do anything, waiting for your words.

‘I missed you, I missed your arms and your kisses and I m-missed…’ Your words start to stutter as his fingers move between your folds and press down on your clit. Mingi circles it slowly with nowhere near enough pressure.

‘I missed your hands,’ you say.

‘I know there's more baby,’ he says, pressing his now hard cock into your back, his fingers dipping inside you and making you gasp.

‘I missed this, I missed being pressed against you, I missed your cock,’ you say as his fingers start to move more. His thumb begins rubbing against your clit and you cry out.

‘That’s my girl,’ he whispers close to your ear, the sounds of sleep and arousal twisted together in his voice. ‘I think you deserve to cum on my fingers for using such pretty words.’

His long fingers curl in to hit you right where you see stars and his thumb presses with the perfect pressure that he knows will undo you.

The tightness in your stomach grows quickly, the lingering effects of your dream and the week without Mingi adding to how well he knows your body. Before you know it you’re pressing your face down into the pillow, crying out as your orgasm rips through you.

Mingi kisses your neck as you come down and you feel him pushing his boxers off.

He pulls you back so you’re tucked into his chest again and hooks your leg on his forearm. You arch your back and feel his tip brushing against your folds, coating him in your wetness. His other arm comes from under your back to rest across your collarbones and hold you tight against him, his hard necklaces pressing into your back.

‘Please Mingi, I need you,’ you say, reaching down to help guide him into you. He pushes in slowly, letting you get used to the stretch as he goes, kissing your shoulders and neck all the while.

He moves at a tortuously slow pace and his breathing starts to come harder on the shell of your ear.

‘This is all I could think about while I was away,’ Mingi says.

‘Mmmm, show me how much you wanted me,’ you say. You reach your hand back and push your fingers into his hair as your hips try to push back harder on him.

A laugh rumbles out of his throat and he flips you on your stomach and cages you in with his arms either side, still inside of you, legs straddling your hips. You can feel his weight on you and his chains tickling your back.

‘Oh I plan to,’ he says, pushing deeper inside of you, the new angle making you grip the sheets underneath you. You can feel every vein of his long, hard dick as he thrusts hard into you.

He reaches for your hands and laces his fingers into yours, now claiming and heavy upon almost every part of you. You push your hips back as much as possible to meet his and it doesn’t take long before you’re both breathless and moaning.

‘Let me see you when you cum baby,’ you say. He grunts as he pulls out and flips you on your back. He slides back in easily and you wrap your legs around his waist tight.

He kisses you like he’s starved and your arms pull him further into you, desperate for his touch as though you haven't already been wrapped up in each other.

The intensity builds as he slides his hand into your hair and pulls your face into his neck. You mark him with your kisses and he stills his hips to let you grind on him until you cum with a muffled scream.

As soon as the first intense wave of your orgasm slows he's pounding into you, desperate for his own release. As he gets closer he whimpers in your ear, telling you how he missed you and he loves you.

‘I'm so glad you're home, please cum for me baby,’ you say. He pulls back enough to look you in the face and, his movements losing rhythm, you watch the beautiful expressions on his face as he fills you.

Breathless, he kisses you gently as he pulls out and drops his weight on to you, his head on your chest, your legs unwrapping from him.

‘Shall we have a shower?’ he says.

‘Later.’

Stroking his back gently you both fall back to sleep as the world outside is starting its day.

***************

[minkieater]

COZY — jyh x fem!reader

it was supposed to be a cozy night spent between you and your fiancé, sitting on the couch together, reading your books. at least it was— until yunho got a little too curious about what exactly you were reading.

— smut minors dni, they're engaged and in love, reader is reading acomaf except i dont remember much of acomaf so dont look closely if u know it, if u don't know it it doesn't matter it's basically just dirty talk lol, fingering, overstim, soft dom!yun, one (1) clit spank, unprotected sex, oral fixation, degradation, yunho's a cocky fuck, creampie, hella dirty talk — wc 5.3k — happy almost february! this is my first installment for @everyonewooeverywhere 's fic exchange event, and also a gift for one of my favorite humans in the world, miss dj herself ᢉ𐭩 thank you so much for hosting this event and being such a genuine friend to me, i love you so dearly ⋆˙⟡

Seven-forty-two on a Thursday evening. 

Sepia curtains drawn, the sun had long gone to sleep, lamplight and the fireplace shrouding the living room in an amber hue. Warmth flowed through your space, beneath your blanket, between your fingers and the page of your open book. Yunho had one of his own, across the couch, a navy cover with stars and a name you couldn’t remember. 

Blanket large enough to share, your feet touched beneath the cover, both of your legs folded up on the couch, the only sounds in the room the crackling of the fire and uncoated pages turning by the grip of two fingers. You’ve been absorbed in the series you’ve been reading this month, in the second book out of five, the next conflict laid out for the characters to resolve. A fantasy series by an author you enjoy, you’ve come to love nights like these, across from your fiancé on the couch, silence in the room, minds escaping to another universe. 

You shifted, getting comfortable, Yunho eyed you from above the spine of his book, beneath his thin frames. An arm beneath your body, you curled into the couch, legs stretching to tangle with his, your bare skin against his clothed by cotton. 

“Do you want me to move?” He asked softly, “Or are you comfortable?”

“I’m comfortable, you’re fine,” you shake your head, barely shooting him a glance, nose in the pages before you.

He smiled to himself, not that you could see, because he loved these nights just as much as you did. It’s turned into every night these past few weeks, ending your long workdays on the couch, full stomachs and minds roaring to empty upon pages of someone else’s life. A shared hobby, one of many, how you both looked at reading the same way– an escape of your own busy routines, emptying out your thoughts, your worries, taking your consciousness and placing it into another realm. 

You slid your leg beneath one of his, letting the weight of him comfort you. Your head dug into the couch cushion along the back, book held up in front of you, brows subconsciously furrowing as the two main characters finally reached somewhere private. Excitement sits low in your belly, you know what’s coming, it only makes sense for their relationship to take the next step. 

A shared kiss, your lips curl, flipping the page. Your toes wiggle beneath Yunho’s leg, eyes scanning the page, smile growing as their clothes come off. He’s watching you now, as your hand lifts, fingernail between your teeth, biting onto your manicured hand like he didn’t pay for it yesterday. He knows that look, he can feel the tremor in your legs, he can see the arousal spreading through your body like the fire crackling across the room. 

Amused, his own lips twitch upward in a grin. You flip the page again, ignorant to his eyes, to how well he knows you. Finally, he asks, “How’s your book, baby?”

You don’t even look up, “So good.”

Still amused, grin still present, his eyes thin. “Should I read it next?”

“I don’t know if you’d like it,” you answer mindlessly, words breathy and casual like you didn’t know what you were saying, too focused on what you were reading. 

“Why not?” He pries further, closing his own book after bending the corner of a page, letting it fall into his lap. “It’s fantasy, no?” 

“I don’t know, maybe you will,” you flip the page, eyes glued to the top of the next page. You were brushing him off, he should leave you alone, let you at least finish the scene. His lips tighten, scrunching to one side as he opens his book back up again, eyes finding the last sentence he read, trying to pick up where he last left off. 

He gets all the way to the next page before he realizes he hasn’t actually read a single word. Eyes scanning the page, recognizing words, but the movie isn’t playing, he can’t see what’s happening. His mind drifts again, you’re reading smut, he knows you are, yet you pay no attention to him? Can he not do what your little characters in your book can? 

He gives his head, his shoulders a small shake, ridding himself of the thoughts. That’s not what reading is– he knows it in his soul, he reads, too. It’s a story, you’re watching a scene in your head of two other people, it had nothing to do with him. Yet his eyes flicker back up to you, your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes flying down the page like you couldn’t digest the words fast enough. His book lowers to his lap again subconsciously. 

At that, your eyes perk up, they’re on him and suddenly he feels bare. Caught red-handed. 

“You okay over there?” A smile tugs at your lips, and Yunho blinks in response.

“Fine,” he nods, slapping a smile on his lips, “just reaching a wall, my brain isn’t working anymore, I think.”

“Turn on the tv then,” you bring your eyes back down to your book, and Yunho doesn’t move an inch, not a single muscle. Now he just wants your attention, he thinks, he’s too curious about what you’re reading, what spicy shit is happening between those characters to get your legs twitching beneath his own. 

You chuckle, and Yunho realizes your eyes are on him again, analyzing, amused at what’s probably a dumbfounded look on his face. You fold the corner of your page, reaching sideways to place your book on the coffee table, no force to your actions, no sign of irritation. 

“Whatsup, baby?” You ask, voice light and playful, “Wanna watch our show instead?”

Ah, fuck, he loves you. He can’t fucking wait to marry you. 

“Want you to tell me what’s happening in your book,” he finds himself answering, maybe he’s the cat that’s grown too curious. 

“Feyre and Rhys,” you shrug, then you smile, “they’re fuckin’.”

Yunho’s brows raise, knowing a few details already from what you’ve shared over the month, “Finally.”

“I know,” you groan out, tipping your head back, “Rhys is so sexy.”

“Yeah?” Yunho’s voice dips, cresting something deeper, an idea that had been planted ten minutes ago finally taking shape. “What’s he doing?”

Your head straightens again, eyes thinning as you stare at Yunho across the couch, warm brown hair unstyled, air-dried, laying flat over his forehead. “Why are you asking, hm?”

He reaches sideways the same way you did, placing his book on the coffee table beside the couch, your eyes stay locked on his bicep that flexes as it sneaks out of his short sleeve tee. He croons, “Wanna know what’s got you so hot n’ bothered.”

You chuckle again, disbelief lining your tone, “I am not hot n’ bothered.”

He squints at you the same way, like he doesn’t quite believe you. “So you don’t want me to fuck you stupid on this couch?”

Smile gone, your eyes widen ever so slightly, bones going rigid. Then the heat sinks in, like a warm hand at the base of your spine, spreading through each limb until it reaches your throat, forcing an ‘I do’ out of your mouth. 

Yunho’s smile grows into something cocky, pushing himself up with his palms on the cushion beneath him, knees pressed to the couch as he crawls over you, so close your foreheads are touching. The heat of him is raw, it seeps into you, mixing with your own– your breath grows shallow, eyes widening as the full broad length of him looms over you. So threatening, he could be, he might be, you don’t know what mood he’s in yet. 

“You do?” He asks again, chocolate eyes boring into yours, circled with something brighter, an idea brewing. 

Your feet kick at the blanket still covering you, peeling it off your body, answering him with a breathy, “Yes.”

“That’s my girl,” he says with a knowing grin before he presses his lips to yours, one arm on the armrest behind you, the other pressed to the cushion beside you. Molding together like you always do, your head tilts to meet his guiding lips, hands coming up to his chest, feeling his cotton-covered skin before they trail up to his shoulders, his neck, letting the shape of him comfort you until your legs spread beneath him. 

They hook over his thighs as he slots himself between them, pinning you down to the couch, his tongue splitting your lips to taste you. You whimper into him as your hips buck, the strength of him still as you use his thighs to lift yourself up, hips grinding against his. He breaks the kiss, keeping his lips just grazing yours to taunt you, “Thought you said the book wasn’t making you horny.”

“It wasn’t,” you’re quick to respond, voice breathy, loaded by impatience, “it’s just you.”

He hums, smiling as he places another kiss on your lips, “She’s nice today, huh?” 

You smile, hooking your arms around his neck, grinding your hips into him again, “Want you, Yun.”

“How do you want me, baby?” He asks, dipping his head below your jaw, placing soft kisses along your skin, tongue poking out to leave a trail as he sinks down your neck. 

“Wanna ride you,” somewhere between a whine and a moan, your eyes flutter closed, using him to grind yourself up against him, his length beneath his sweats catching onto the slick beneath your sleepshorts, already sticky, already clinging to your core. 

He scoops an arm under your back, breaking from your neck to lift you upward in one quick motion, sitting up straight at the center of the couch. A move he’s done a thousand times, you barely react, using one foot planted on the floor beneath you to shimmy your shorts down your legs as he tugs his shirt off his head. You throw yourself against him, thighs bracketing his hips, core pressed flush to his. 

Skin creamy like the moon, it’s littered with splotches of cherry, flushed and needy, he was just as horny as you. It makes you smirk, arms laying over his shoulders to attach your lips again, heavier this time, quicker, your hunger grows as your hips grind into his still-clothed length, this angle better, harsher, it leaves you gasping into his mouth. 

“Take your pants off,” you whisper into his mouth, barely breaking the kiss, “need you inside me.”

“Not yet,” his hands find your hips, grinding you against his length, using more force than you were on your own, a broken moan forces its way out of your lips, head dipping down in pleasure. 

His lips find your jaw, sinking down to your neck as his fingers toy with the hem of your tee, pushing it upward, over your chest until he breaks away from your skin, pulling it over your head. Hands to your chest, you find his lips again, a mess of saliva and teeth, rushed as if you were running out of time. 

Thumbs brushing over your nipples, he hisses, “Fuck, you’re so sexy.”

“Don’t tease,” you whimper, hips rocking against him, voice breaking as you say, “I need you inside me, Yunho.”

“Patience, my love,” he whispers, the air cool against your nipple, making your back arch as your hands fall into his hair, nails lightly grazing his scalp. “What were they doing in your book, hm?”

Your brows furrow, jaw already slack in pleasure, you search your mind, blinking, dumbfounded, trying to find words you just read. His eyes glance upward, lips around one of your nipples, the look of him does nothing to aid in finding the memory, it makes you groan out, body twitching. 

He chuckles, popping off of your chest, “What? Can’t remember?”

“Not when you’re doing that, fuck,” you huff out, “why do you care? Just fuck me.”

His brows furrow, disappointed, you don’t care. He tsks, taunting again, “Come on, smart girl, you just read it. Don’t tell me you weren’t paying attention.” 

“Ah, fuck–” you whine, “I was, it’s too much– I have to explain,” his lips wrap around your other nipple, teeth poking out to graze, “shit– the table, he ate her out on the table–”

His hands slide down to the plush of your ass, squeezing, shifting you backward on his thighs, spreading his knees to open yours wider. His lips breaking from yours again, his hands slide over your hips, squeezing your thighs as he leans back into the cushion of the couch, watching you with analyzing eyes. His voice is short, curt, ordering instead of encouraging as he says, “Keep going.”

Palm up, his hand slides between your legs, fingers spreading your wetness along your folds and you suck in an exasperated breath, back arching, eyes fluttering closed. His fingers slap up against your core once, “Hey.”

“I’m sorry!” You hiss, shaking your head to collect your jumbled thoughts, rearranging your memories. His fingers slide up to your clit, keeping pressure there as you start again, “He ate her out on the table, m-made her cum twice– the sex was claiming, they kept saying ‘You’re mine.”

He hums, leaning forward as his fingers slide backward, the tips of two fingers catching on your entrance, “Made her cum twice, hmm?”

You choke out a moan, hips digging into his fingers, bottom lip trapped between your teeth in a fight to keep your composure as you nod, stuttering out, “T-twice.”

His fingers sank inside, “Then what?”

Your head falls forward, a lewd moan slipping out, his fingers are so long, they curled inside you perfectly, adding pressure where you needed it most. Hips already shaking, you ground them into him, his other hand thrown lazily over your thigh. 

You cursed, “They fucked again, she gave him head, fuck– and he flipped her on her front, fucked her stupid.”

His fingers picked up in speed, curling inside you with each thrust, hitting that spot each and every time like his fingers couldn’t go anywhere else. It’s engraved in him, you think, to make you cum with ease, to pull you to the edge as quickly as possible, because he knows exactly what to do and when to do it, and never fails. 

“That what you want?” Taunting, teasing, honest.

You shake your head, shoulders shaking in pleasure, “Wanna ride you.”

“Need you crying around my fingers first,” he hums, flattening the edge of his palm against your clit, making you cry out, fingers clawing at his shoulders for purchase, stability while you grind yourself into him. 

You pick your head up to see a ghost of a smile on his face, eyes locked on yours as he asks, “Should I make you cum twice, too? Hm?”

You nod, lips parting, breath catching in your throat as your clit glides against his palm just right, the sounds of his fingers filling you up obscene. “Please, Yun,” you cry out, trying so hard to keep your rhythm steady, to catch the high you were so desperately chasing.

“I’ll give you one,” he adds more pressure in his palm, fingers working you faster, the sounds of you gushing so loud, you couldn’t feel the flame of shame. “You’ll have to work for the second.”

You clench around him, pressure building with each curl of his fingers, it’s worse when they stay there, pressed up against your walls while you clench hard, clit grinding against his palm like a bitch in heat. You cry, “I’m gonna cum– I’m close, I’m gonna–”

“Give it to me,” he urges while his palm presses harder, almost bouncing against your clit, “Let me feel you cum around my fingers, c’mon, give it to me.”

“Kiss me,” you cry and he leans forward, a mess of teeth and tongue, your lips barely moving against him as your pleasure hits its peak, orgasm washing over you, hips jerking wildly against him as your nails claw hard enough into his skin to leave crescents in their wake. Yunho groans, working you through it, feeling the sting of your nails in his skin, loving it as much as you need it. 

“S’good,” there’s relief in your voice, hips slowing down into a dirty grind, chest heaving, breathing into his mouth that he keeps pressed to yours, top lips touching, bottom lips connected by a single string of spit. 

He gives you a moment to come down, to breathe, he waits for your core to stop clenching around him before he starts again, plunging his fingers deep inside of you instead of curling them around your walls. You gasp, eyes blowing wide, body locking up, bones made of stone, he smiles into your mouth. 

“Told you you’d work for it.”

A promise, one that went over your head, you quickly realized. Lifting your hips, you’re still, silent as he fucks his fingers into you, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. 

“Y-Yunho– fuck, Yunho!”

Your voice grew in pitch, high and whiney, surprised, still reeling off your last orgasm, body still shaking. Your toes curl, shins lifting off the couch cushion behind you, face scrunching into pleasure, into surprise, into overstimulation. 

“Breathe, baby, you can take it,” he encourages, swiping his tongue over his lips, “you can do it, my good girl, one more f’me. Just one.”

The sound that leaves you is between a scream and a squeal, eyes screwed shut– he curls his fingers and you fold, abdomen clenching, elbows pressing against his shoulders to keep yourself up. 

“Yunho, I can’t, I can’t–” you can’t breathe, you can’t feel anything other than blinding pleasure, it’s too much. 

“Just like the girl in your book, baby,” he says it like it’s easy, “just one more, don’t disappoint me. I’ll let you cum on my cock after, you want it, don’t you?”

You’re nodding before any words can leave you, they’ve all died in your throat that constricts around nothing, jaw dropping, tongue lolling out. A knowing, fond smile breaks out across Yunho’s face, “There she is, my good girl, needs something in her mouth, huh?” 

You’re stuck in a whirlwind of pleasure as his hand fucks you open, fucks you dumb– the other one travels up your waist, a thumb over your nipple as he crosses your chest, over the curvature of your shoulder. It lands on your jaw, forcing your eyes on him, his had deepened, seeming more charcoal than chocolate. “Say please,” he said simply, edged with dominance. 

“Please,” you whisper, voice shaky. 

Two fingers push past your lips, landing flat on your tongue. Your eyes fly back, immediately grinding into his fingers still working at your core, effectively restarting your nervous system. Your lips close around his fingers, tongue massaging against them, you can’t see the smile he wears, how proud it is, how loving it is. 

“Cum for me,” it’s nothing but an order, his voice harsh. His fingers press against the front side of your walls and you lose it, clit untouched, hips bucking against his fingers as your lips suck harder against the ones in your mouth.

Shaking, spent, your body crumbles, hands holding onto his wrist like it's your lifeline to keep his fingers in your mouth as your forehead hits his shoulder. His fingers slide out of you, pulling them up to his mouth, you can hear the sound as he licks them clean. Wet, sloppy, lewd– it makes you shiver.

“Taste so fuckin’ sweet,” his wet hand finds your back, trailing fingers down your spine, “want you to ride my cock like you did on my fingers.”

You whine, letting go of his wrist, freeing his fingers. “Dunno if I can.”

“You wanted to,” wet fingers find your waist, lifting you to slip his sweatpants off his hips, lifting them to tug his pants down to his thighs so his cock can spring free. 

You shiver again as it slaps against the slick spread on your folds, the weight of it clear, fear sitting heavy in your spine at the length of him. “Yun,” you mumble, followed by a whimper. 

You break away from his chest to sit up, lifting your hips for his length to sit before you, tall, pink, leaking– your mouth waters like you didn’t just come twice. 

“Look at you,” he settles back in the cushions while you wrap your fingers around the base of him, “my cock-hungry slut, already wanting more. Thought you were too tired?”

You stare at him through your brows, gaze pointed, “Don’t be mean.”

“You’re wetter when I’m mean,” he laughs a little, and even that feels condescending. “We both know you like it. Ride my cock like you were begging to earlier.”

Cheeks inflamed, you obey, hips lifting to line him up with your entrance. “Deep breath,” he reminds you, like he does every time, as you start to sink down onto his length. 

It steals the breath from your lungs every time, you need the reminder. Mouth falling open, your brows furrow, a small squeak escapes from the tip of your throat as you pass the mushroom tip, slowly lowering yourself inch by inch, savoring the curve, every vein until you’re fully seated. A moan of relief escapes, breath entering your lungs again, mumbling out, “So fuckin’ big.”

“Never gets old, huh?” He’s smiling, it’s cocky, but you can see the furrow in his brow, the pleasure he was hiding. 

“Arrogant,” you mutter, but you clench around him, when he’s like this it never fails to edge you further. “Fuck,” you force out, it’s harsh, the stretch, the feeling of being so fucking full. 

His hands find your wrists, throwing them over his shoulders, bringing your chest close to his, pulling you into him. Your lips find his, not as messy, more controlled, his tongue slips into your mouth with purpose, tasting every inch of your mouth. 

His hands on your back, his nails graze your skin, making you shiver. “Move,” he says into your mouth and immediately you start grinding your hips, followed by a moan poured straight into his lips. It’s indescribable, how he can feel so fucking good, like you were molded for him, by him, how sex can feel so perfect. 

He leans backward, dipping his head to wrap his lips around one of your nipples as you start to move, hips grinding against him, bouncing when his teeth poke out to bite.

“Shit,” you curse, using your shins pressed to the couch for leverage, his hands hold you at your waist, sliding forward, thumbs sliding under your chest, holding up your tits for him to use. His tongue pokes out from between his lips, grazing your nipples as you bounce. “So good, Yunho, so good,” you cry, holding him by his hair, bouncing against him.

He pushes himself forward, reaching over you to get his sweatpants down to his ankles, never breaking his lips from your nipple as he kicks them off, bringing his ass to the edge of the couch, spreading his knees wide, trapping your calves between his knees and the couch.

Your hips switch to a nasty grind as his arms wrap around your back, cradling your body, you don’t break your rhythm as he leans forward, your body sliding backward. Your arms slide around his neck, keeping his head to your chest as gravity pulls your hips down, farther off his length, giving you more space to fuck onto him, to grind your hips steadily onto his length, all while pathetic, whiney moans leave you one after another, the pleasure too much to bear. 

“There you go,” he says into your skin, voice sounding choked, raw, “fuck, so fuckin’ good, my good girl, doing what I need her to do.”

“Big,” is all you can get out, repeating it like a mantra, his arms tighten around you harder, holding you closer. Your hips pick up speed, riding him faster, feeling him curve against your walls, the drag of the head of his cock against you. 

“So big, fillin’ you up,” he chokes out, “feel good? This what you wanted?”

You’re nodding, you loosen your arms as he pulls you backward, finding his lips again, pushing him back into the couch to bounce on him faster, the tops of your feet hooking over the tops of his thighs. 

“Needed this,” you whimper, steadily bouncing, “needed you to fill me up.”

“No one else can fuck you like this,” he reaches up to grab your jaw, pulling you down to whisper into your mouth, “you’re mine, this pussy is mine.”

You moan out, pressure building in your core all over again, “No one, Yunho, just you– fuck– this’s all I need– fuck!”

Your thighs burn, you don’t care, his lips are on yours again, messy and wild, so claiming it renders you brainless. You moan into his mouth, fingers curling into his hair, you need him to take over, to give him what he needs, you need to be full. “Flip me over.”

In one quick movement he turns the two of you over, you flip to your stomach on your own, pressing your face into the pillows, one knee bent up on the couch while the other lays dangling off of it, presenting yourself for him. He groans behind you, so low and dragged out it makes you arch further, one of his legs lifts onto the cushion beside you, a palm splayed over your ass while he lines himself up, sliding inside. 

Your face digs into the couch, a punched yelp escaping you, legs shaking, your fingers fist the cushions. “Yes, yes, Yunho!”

“Fuck,” it’s a low groan, an honest admission, he picks up speed immediately. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room, the squelch of him sliding into you, the crackling of the fire silent by now. 

“I won’t last,” he leans over you, fingers rough at your spine, sliding up until they reach your hair, pulling you upward. 

You cry out, fingers reaching for the back of the couch, your other leg half on the couch, half dangling, letting him use you in whatever position he needs you in. One of his legs lifts yours onto the couch until you’re steadily positioned for him, stable, head pulled back into his chest, back arched, breath heaving as you look up at him– face red and splotchy, hair fucked up, features blown out and crazed, fuck, you couldn’t help the way you clenched around him. Even upside down he was beautiful, perfect, you couldn’t believe you got to marry him. 

“So pretty,” you say mindlessly, voice not your own anymore, something ruined, overwhelmed. 

He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “Not as pretty as you, baby. Rub your clit f’me, need you to cum around my cock.”

He lets go of your hair to wrap an arm over your chest, holding your back flush to him as he fucks into you all over again, “Fuck, baby, need you to cum.”

Your hand finds your clit, still buzzing from your previous orgasms, you use your middle finger to rub tight circles into the bundle of nerves as his hips pick up speed. He holds you steady as your moans grow in pitch, closer together, body bending at the hips as the pressure picks back up where it left off, getting too heavy too quick, at this angle his cock slides against the front of your walls, curving deliciously, adding pressure exactly where you need it. 

He holds you tighter, head dipping down to your ear, breath hot against your skin, “Come on, baby, one more, need to feel you cum around my cock. Need to feel you clenching around me.”

Your breath is thin, tight, cramped in your chest as your orgasm approaches, “Fingers, Yun, please–”

You barely get the beg out before his other hand is wrapping around you, fingers hooking into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue until you’re gagging around them– the loss of breath, of the intrusion, the weight on your tongue, the taste of his salty skin, you convulse around him, orgasm washing over you in a heavy wave, his other arm holds onto you tight as your hips stutter, jerking, bending against him. 

“Yes, my baby, fuck– so fuckin’ good, feels so good,” mindlessly babbling his praise, his hips fuck into you harder, faster as a nasty whine escapes him, “gonna fill this pussy up, yes, gonna cum inside.”

Your head falls limp against his shoulder while his hips snap against yours, riding out the end of your orgasm as his hips stutter, pushing into you as deep as he can until he empties himself inside you with a guttural moan, his teeth finding the shell of your ear, sinking into it as he fills you with warmth. 

You hiss, then moan, letting your body ease into him, letting him hold your weight. He lets go of your chest, pulling out of you slowly, his voice soft as he says, “Careful.”

Two hands find the back of the couch again as you kneel into the cushion, carefully sinking into the plush, chest still heaving, eyes half open. You felt… Open, used, loved, spent. 

Yunho’s at your side, sitting back on the couch, pulling him into you slowly, easing your head onto his chest, “You okay, baby?”

“Mhm,” you nod, eyes closing, grounding yourself in his skin, in his warmth. His hands dance over your skin, your arms, your back, your thigh, your calf bent up on his lap, each one analyzing, searching for a reaction, disguised by careful, loving touches. 

 In a quiet, soft voice, he says, “I’ll give you five, then we’ll go clean you up, okay?” 

“Wanna sleep with you,” you mumble into his chest, “quick shower, kay?” 

“Want you to drink water before bed,” he says into your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “maybe eat something if you’re up for it, hm? It’s still early, baby.”

Your head lifts, looking up at him, soft brown staring down at you, skin still splotchy, flushed. His eyes, filled with so much warmth, so much love, it makes you smile, craning your neck upward to press your lips to his. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he smiles against your lips, giving you another, “I really do want you to eat, though.”

He gives you five minutes on the couch, kisses you lazily for three of them, then he’s scooping you up bridal style, bringing you up the stairs to the second floor, into your bedroom, into the bathroom where he places you on the toilet to pee while he heats up the shower. All innocent, you wash each other’s bodies, giggling while you wash your hair, letting your bodies soak under the hot water, your muscles relaxing. 

In a robe, you’re sitting at the kitchen counter while he cooks you noodles, something quick and light to share, he forces three glasses of water in your system before he’s satisfied. Across the counter from each other, you’re silently eating, making eye contact after every few bites, the two of you erupting into giggles all over again. 

After cleaning up, shutting the lights off, you pause at the base of the stairs, “Hold on, forgot something.”

Running to the living room, you pick up your books from the coffee table, meeting him back at the stairs with a smile, “So we can read before bed.”

Yunho deadpans, eyes thinning, lips amused, “You want round two?”

“If you interrupt me again I will kill you,” you push a finger into his chest, stepping up onto the stairs, “We’re reading our books and then we’re going to bed.”

my masterlist 🧸 fic exchange masterlist

[doomgurlficss]

Let’s be Polite and not Leave Him Out

Synopsis: When Jungkook brings his friend Eunwoo over for a late-night drink, you hadn’t expected to be the evening’s entertainment. Clad in only a skimpy nightgown, your bratty refusal to follow orders earns you more attention than you bargained for. Under Jungkook’s firm hand, and with Eunwoo’s curious gaze, you’re pushed to the edge and back, your obedience tested, your limits blurred.

Pairing: Idol Jungkook x Reader x Idol Eunwoo

Word count: 5,118

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Little plot/lots of smut, explicit sexual content, dom/sub dynamics, power imbalance, voyeurism, light humiliation, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it), use of honorifics

A/N: Hi beautiful people! ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅ Thank you guys so much for 100 followers!! I am so overwhelmed with the abundance of love I am receiving and I am so appreciative that you all take time out of your day to read my fics🫶🏽! I have a very smutty gift for you all, lol. But I hope you guys enjoy it. I definitely had to go touch some grass after this lol.

Tonight is one of the rare occasions Jungkook hangs out with his friends. It doesn’t happen often, his schedule too demanding. But lately, things have lightened up, giving him some room to breathe.

He usually gets in late, so you know better than to wait up.

But for some reason, sleep doesn’t come easy tonight. So you curl up on the couch with Bam, the glow of the TV casting shifting light across the walls as you catch up on a Netflix series.

You’re halfway through an episode when you hear the jingle of keys and the soft thud of the door. Bam’s ears perk up as he bounds off the couch, knocking the remote over in his pursuit.

You stay put, blanket wrapped loosely around your body as you wait for Jungkook to appear.

He stumbles into the kitchen, laughing softly as Bam playfully circles his legs. He hasn’t noticed you yet, his voice low, movements loose from a drink or two. You smile to yourself, soaking in the rare, unguarded version of him.

But then another figure appears behind him.

Eunwoo.

Your eyes widen and you tug the blanket tighter around yourself, sitting up just as Bam comes trotting back in.

A moment later, Jungkook appears around the corner, tossing something into the sink as he speaks to Eunwoo behind him. He stops mid-step when he spots you.

“Baby, I told you not to wait up,” he says, lips quirking into a smirk.

“I know,” you murmur, voice quiet. “I just couldn’t sleep.”

He walks in slowly, looking more amused than surprised, while Eunwoo lingers in the kitchen—like he’s unsure if he should follow.

Your fingers tighten around the blanket as you shift. “Hey, Eunwoo. Nice to see you,” you say, trying to sound casual despite your current state of undress.

He bows slightly. “Nice to see you too, Y/N.”

Jungkook finally drops onto the couch behind you, pulling you gently into his chest with a familiarity that makes you feel a little less exposed.

“Man, you can come sit,” he calls out to Eunwoo. “You don’t have to stand there like a weirdo.”

He lowers his voice to your ear. “It’s cool if he stays, right? We weren’t expecting you to be up, so I suggested we continue our drinking at my place.”

You nod. “Sure. I can give you guys a little privacy.”

You shift, attempting to stand, but Jungkook’s arm tightens slightly.

“Nah, baby. You’re good right here. More the merrier, right Eunwoo?” His tone dips, teasing, and your stomach drops.

“Right,” Eunwoo replies with a smirk, glancing briefly at you before his eyes flick to the TV, his own face on screen. The episode must’ve kept playing after the remote fell.

“We can put something else on if you want,” you offer quickly, reaching for the remote, only for Jungkook to kick it across the floor with a sharp thud.

You look back at him, eyebrows raised.

He knows exactly what you have on. He saw it before he left. A skimpy nightgown that clings to your curves, leaving little to the imagination.

You hadn’t felt the need to change out of it. This is your home, after all. But you also weren’t expecting guests, otherwise you would’ve put on a bra. And underwear.

“I’m not getting that,” you say flatly, your voice laced with annoyance.

The humor drains from Jungkook’s face almost instantly. In its place: something darker. His posture shifts, still relaxed, but commanding. You know that look. His dominance slipping into the space between you like a charged current.

Your breath hitches.

Jungkook leans in slightly, his voice low and sharp. “No, Y/N. I think you are. Now.”

Before you can protest, he yanks the blanket off your lap in one swift motion, exposing the full length of your nightgown to your guest.

Heat rushes to your face, but you don’t move.

You hear the slight intake of breath from Eunwoo, now seated on the adjacent couch, watching this all play out.

Still, you hesitate.

“Crawl,” Jungkook demands, the word sending a shiver down your spine. He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to.

You know what crawling means. What part of you will be exposed as soon as your knees hit the floor.

“Jungkook,” you whine lowly, peeking at Eunwoo. “Don’t make me do this.”

Your voice is small, shaky with something you can’t quite name, part embarrassment, part thrill. You clutch at what’s left of your dignity, fingers digging into the cushion beneath you.

But Jungkook just stares. Slow. Deliberate. His eyes glitter with control.

“You should’ve thought about that before you started acting like a brat,” he says coolly, the amusement in his voice gone. “Now be a good girl. Or I’ll make it worse.”

Your stomach flips at the warning.

From the side, you feel Eunwoo’s gaze lingering, steady and unrelenting. He hasn’t spoken again, hasn’t moved, but the awareness of him is enough to make your skin prickle.

Still, you hesitate for one breath longer.

Then your knees slide forward.

The first brush of the floor against your bare skin sends a shiver through your spine. You keep your eyes down, but you feel the shift in the room instantly. Your nightgown rides up just as you feared, baring the backs of your thighs. Your most vulnerable parts kissed by the cool air.

You hear the faintest curse under Eunwoo’s breath.

Shame licks up your chest. Arousal coils low in your belly.

And still, Jungkook says nothing.

Not until you reach the remote.

“Now bring it to me,” he says, voice calm and collected, like he hasn’t just unraveled you with a single command.

You grab the remote and turn, cheeks flushed, arm extended as you offer it back to Jungkook, eyes avoiding his completely.

He doesn’t take it right away.

Instead, he leans back, one arm draped casually along the back of the couch. His eyes trail over your body, slowly, unapologetically, lingering on the spot where the nightgown has risen.

You swallow hard, pulse racing in your throat. He finally reaches out, brushing his fingers against yours as he takes the remote. The small contact sends a shiver to your core.

He turns the TV off. The muted LED light becomes the only illumination in the room.

You stay there on your knees, feeling the weight of not just Jungkook’s gaze, but another. Steadier. Quieter.

Eunwoo.

He sits on the adjacent couch, manspread with a glass in his hand, watching your every move. A part of you burns under his attention. But another part of you… revels in it.

Jungkook lets the silence stretch.

Then, he hooks two fingers under your chin, tilting your face up to his. The touch is gentle, but there’s nothing soft in his expression.

“She had to be told twice,” he says, voice low, almost thoughtful. “You know how much I hate repeating myself.”

He doesn’t look at you when he says it. But at Eunwoo.

“What do you think?” he asks, tone casual. “Should I punish her?”

A slow sip from the glass. Ice clinks. A pause.

“She was a little mouthy,” Eunwoo replies, voice calm but edged now with something darker. “I’d say she needs reminding.”

Jungkook hums, satisfied.

“Thought so,” he says, his thumb brushing lazily over your bottom lip like he’s testing how much more you’ll take. “I think she forgot who she belongs to for a second.”

You can’t speak. Your breath catches in your throat, your body warm all over.

And the worst part?

They’re talking about you like you’re not even there.

Like you’re already theirs to decide over.

The room feels heavier now, the dim LED glow throwing soft shadows across their faces. Bam has long since retreated to another room. The only sound is the faint clink of ice as Eunwoo swirls the liquor in his glass.

Jungkook shifts on the couch, one hand dragging lazily down your neck to the exposed dip of your collarbone.

“You like being watched, don’t you?” he murmurs, more a statement than a question.

You open your mouth, but no sound comes.

Jungkook leans in, voice a whisper meant only for you. “Say it.”

Your throat tightens. The words catch somewhere between embarrassment and arousal, but they’re there.

“Yes,” you breathe. Barely audible. Barely brave.

Your response is met with a sharp, sudden slap to your cheek. Not hard enough to harm, but enough to sting. Enough to make your eyes water instantly.

Heat blooms beneath your skin. Arousal stirs in your stomach like a low flame catching wind. Shame curls in your chest, quickly eclipsed by the wetness pooling between your thighs.

Jungkook’s voice slices through the silence, low, controlled, and unmistakably commanding.

“Yes what?”

Your gaze snaps up to meet his, lips parting before the answer even fully forms.

“Yes, sir,” you whisper, breath hitching, your tone full of submission, and something deeper.

Need.

He nods in approval.

“Good,” he murmurs, his thumb pressing firmly against your lips until they part. He slips it inside, resting it on your tongue.

You obey without thinking, lips sealing around the digit, your cheeks hollowing as you suck. Slow, deliberate.

His eyes darken.

“That’s it,” Jungkook hums, watching you.

His other hand strokes lazily through your coarse fro, tightening just enough to ache at the scalp.

He leans in, voice low. “Let’s show Eunwoo how well you use this mouth, hmm? I’m sure he’s been dying to see.”

Your breath catches.

Jungkook shifts in his seat, legs spreading slightly as he guides you forward with a gentle but firm tug of your hair. Your knees slide between his thighs, slow and trembling, until you’re eye level with the thick outline pressing against his jeans.

You’re certain there’s a puddle beneath you now. Your thighs already slick, sticky from how turned on you are. The room feels hotter, as you shift your weight, trying to breathe through it.

With shaking hands, you reach for his belt. The sound of the buckle coming undone echoing loud in the quiet room, and you feel every heartbeat between your ears.

Stage fright tugs at your chest, the weight of two sets of eyes on you pressing down like a heavy hand.

But more than anything, you want to do good. For Jungkook.

Your fingers work quickly, tugging the waistband of his boxers down just enough.

A small, involuntary gasp slips past your lips as his cock springs free. Thick, flushed, and already half-hard. No matter how many times you’ve seen it, it always steals your breath. Always makes your throat tighten in both anticipation and awe.

A shudder runs through you.

You glance up.

Jungkook watches you with heavy-lidded eyes, lips parted slightly like he’s already imagining how you’ll take him. One hand remains tangled in your hair, possessive. Guiding.

But it’s Eunwoo you feel, too.

Still silently watching.

Eunwoo’s hand flexes around his glass, knuckles pale. Eyes dragging slowly from Jungkook’s cock down to your lips, and you swear his jaw ticks.

Heat floods your cheeks, and your core pulses.

Jungkook tilts your chin again, commanding your attention back to him.

“Eyes on me,” he murmurs. “Make it pretty.”

You inhale through your nose and lean forward, lips brushing against his tip, warm and heavy against your mouth. You press a soft kiss there first, reverent. Then your tongue flicks out, kittenish and slow, tasting him, lips wrapping around the crown in a motion that’s more worship than act.

Jungkook’s jaw flexes.

“Good girl,” he breathes, the praise curling low in your stomach.

You take him deeper, inch by inch, one hand wrapping around the base, the other steadying yourself on his thigh. Your mouth works gently, tongue sliding along the underside as he groans, deep and approving.

But it’s not long before his patience thins.

His hand tightens in your hair, not hard, but firm, guiding you off of him slowly before pulling you right back down, just a little deeper than you dared on your own.

Your throat clenches around him and you fight back a gag.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, eyes never leaving yours. “Let me use that pretty mouth. You wanted to be good, didn’t you?”

You nod around him, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. The stretch burns, but so does the need. The arousal between your thighs now unbearable.

Jungkook finds a rhythm, hips rolling slowly, steadily. His hand keeps you in place, fingers fisted in your hair, dragging you forward again and again until your lips are wet, your cheeks hollowed, and your jaw aching in that addictive, perfect way.

The wet suction of your mouth around him, and the soft, broken groans Jungkook lets slip when your tongue swirls just right fill up the room.

You lose yourself in it, lips stretched, jaw burning, the warmth of his cock filling your mouth and your senses. Every little noise he makes feeds your hunger to keep going, to do better.

You’re so focused on pleasing him, so wrapped up in his rhythm and praise, that you almost forget.

You’re not alone.

The sudden heat of a palm sliding over your ass makes you jolt.

You flinch instinctively, trying to lift your head, but Jungkook’s hand presses firmly on the back of your skull, holding you in place.

Then—

Smack.

The slap stings sharp and sudden, echoing through the room, ass heating from the touch.

You moan around him, more shocked than hurt, hole tightening instinctively around nothing.

Jungkook sighs at the feeling. “Fuck.”

“Stay still, pretty,” he murmurs, his voice thick with pleasure. “Eunwoo just wants a taste.”

Your body tenses.

You can feel Eunwoo shift behind you, the air moving with him, closer and lower. A second later, a warm breath fans over your core, and you jolt forward, but Jungkook doesn’t let you go.

A broad hand spreads across your lower back. Steady. Possessive.

Followed by a slow, deliberate lick up your center.

Your moan is immediate, muffled around the thick length still resting on your tongue. The sensation is overwhelming. Your thighs twitching as your fingers dig into Jungkook’s jeans, knees threatening to give out.

“Fuck,” Jungkook hisses above you. “She liked that.”

You can’t think. Can’t breathe.

Eunwoo does it again. Slower. Flatter. A lazy stripe that has your spine arching and your hips rolling back into him without permission.

Another slap, harsher this time. It burns hot across your skin, sure to leave a mark.

“Stay still, Eunwoo mumbles against your flesh.

You cry out around Jungkook’s cock, the noise muffled.

You try, God, you try, but your body is vibrating, torn between the ache in your throat, the wet heat between your legs, and the sharp sting of his palm still seared into your skin.

“You hear that?” Jungkook says from above, his voice calm, amused. “You’re making him work harder than he should.”

You whimper, tears blurring your vision.

“You gonna behave?” he asks.

You nod desperately, body trembling.

“Use your words, baby.”

You pull back just enough to speak, voice hoarse and soaked in heat.

“Yes, sir,” you whisper.

Another deep hum from Eunwoo. A teasing lick against your folds. “She’s learning,” he says, almost to himself.

Jungkook exhales a slow breath. “Good,” he says. “Then she’s ready.”

In one swift motion, he lifts you off his cock, hand still firm in your hair as you gasp, spit and pre-cum dripping down your chin, glistening in the low light. Your chest rises and falls as you try to catch your breath, the room spinning slightly with heat and humiliation.

“Up,” he murmurs.

You obey immediately, legs shaky as you rise to your feet.

He doesn’t give you time to adjust before he’s guiding you again, hands on your waist, spinning you to face Eunwoo.

Jungkook pulls you into his lap with practiced ease, your back pressed to his chest, your legs falling naturally over his spread thighs.

“Spread your legs,” he hums in your ear, breath warm against your neck. “Let Eunwoo see how pretty that pussy is.”

Your core clenches at his words.

Still breathless, you let your knees fall open slowly, painfully aware of how soaked you are, of how your arousal glistens between your thighs

Jungkook’s hands slide down to your inner thighs, thumbs gently pulling you open wider, until there’s no room left for modesty. No hiding.

Only display.

“She’s fucking soaked,” Eunwoo mutters from between your legs. “Messy little thing, aren’t you?”

The sound of his voice that close, dripped in hunger, sends a jolt straight through your spine. You twitch in Jungkook’s lap, breath catching in your throat as your thighs try to close on instinct.

But Jungkook doesn’t let you.

His hands tighten around your legs, keeping them open, keeping you exposed.

“Nuh-uh,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “You wanted to be a brat earlier, remember? This is what happens.”

Eunwoo leans in closer, breath fanning across your inner thighs, nose nearly brushing your center.

Jungkook’s fingers trail down your chest, toying with the hem of your nightgown, dragging it higher.

“She can take it,” he says, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “She doesn’t have much of a choice.”

Eunwoo doesn’t wait a second longer.

He dives back in, this time far less polite, tongue firm, confident, moving with purpose. The first stroke has your head rolling back against Jungkook’s shoulder, your mouth dropping open in a silent cry.

Your legs try to close again. Too much, it’s too much. But Jungkook holds them apart, pulling them against your chest to give Eunwoo better access.

“Take it,” he murmurs, voice all silk and command. “Let him taste all of it.”

Eunwoo moans into you, tongue lapping deep, mouth a filthy mess. Each swipe firmer, more deliberate.

Your breath catches on a sob, hips stuttering against Jungkook’s grip. You’re trembling, thighs shaking in his hands, the pressure between your legs coiling tight and dangerous.

“Shit,” you whisper, voice barely there.

But Jungkook hears it.

He chuckles, dark and low in your ear. “Already?”

You nod, eyes clenched shut, your whole body drawn taut like a wire pulled to its limit.

“Eunwoo,” Jungkook says, voice smooth but clipped now, “Slow down. She’s not allowed to cum yet.”

You can’t move, not with your legs pinned to your chest, not with Jungkook’s arm locking you in place like you belong there.

Eunwoo groans against you, but obeys, his movements softening, tongue flattening, pulling back into something maddeningly slow and shallow.

It doesn’t stop the build. If anything, it makes it worse.

You squirm in Jungkook’s hold, whimpering, your hands flying to grip his thighs as your high teeters just out of reach.

“Please,” you breathe, barely coherent. “Please, sir please—”

Jungkook tilts your face toward him, lips brushing your temple.

“Not yet, baby,” he murmurs. “Not until I say.”

You whimper, desperate, frantic, as Eunwoo’s mouth moves with cruel precision.

Every lick is slower. Every flick of his tongue more deliberate. But then his lips close around your clit, and suck.

Just right.

Your whole body jerks in Jungkook’s lap, a broken cry tearing from your throat before you can stop it.

“No—fuck! Please!”

He doesn’t stop. His mouth locks there, tongue swirling in sync with every tug of suction, and your vision goes white at the edges. Nails digging into Jungkook’s thighs as your hips rut forward, chasing it, needing it.

And all the while, Jungkook holds you steady.

“You wanna cum that bad?” he breathes against your jaw. “After being a brat?”

You nod frantically, tears prickling behind your eyes.

“I can’t—I—please, sir.”

A beat of silence. Then.

“Cum.”

The second the word leaves his mouth, your body shatters.

Your orgasm hits hard. Unforgiving, hot and fast and violent as it rips through you. Your thighs clamp instinctively around Eunwoo’s head, but Jungkook forces them open, making you take it, making you feel all of it.

You sob his name, both of their names, as your hips tremble and your breath breaks.

Eunwoo doesn’t stop until you’re fully undone, until the overstimulation starts to blur into pain, and even then it takes Jungkook’s voice to end it.

“That’s enough.”

Eunwoo pulls back, chin glistening, chest rising with his own heavy breaths.

Jungkook presses a soft kiss to the side of your temple, his voice lower now. “Good girl.”

He pushes you off of him without a word, and you flop onto the couch, boneless and trembling.

Your hit the cushions with a soft thud, thighs still twitching, chest heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. The room spins a little, your pulse thudding in your ears, every nerve in your body humming with aftershock.

The cool air kisses your soaked skin, reminding you of how messy and exposed you are.

You try to pull your nightgown down to cover yourself, but Jungkook catches your wrist mid-movement.

“Uh-uh,” he says, firm but quiet. “We’re not done.”

He maneuvers you onto your hands and knees, body weak as you struggle to hold yourself up. “Please sir, I need a minute,” you beg. But it falls on death ears.

He’s already lining himself up against your pussy, running his head through your messy folds before sinking in. To the hilt.

You yelp at how full you are with no prep, the burn causing your eyes to water as your arms buckle beneath you.

“Eunwoo, how about you test out her mouth,” Jungkook grits out as he fucks you slowly. Dragging his dick all the way out, just fill you to the brim all over again.

“She’s already warmed up,” Jungkook murmurs. “Might as well put her to use.”

You don’t protest. You can’t. Your limbs feel heavy, your mind swimming in submission, and the lingering throb of overstimulation.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Eunwoo says as he stands, walking over to the edge of the couch.

He lifts your chin, forcing you make eye contact with him as he brushes a curl from your face. You were sure your twist-out would be no good by the end of the night.

You watch as he unzips his jeans, releasing his monstrous dick. It was no longer than Jungkook’s, but boy was it girthy.

A sharp thrust from behind sends you gasping for air and Eunwoo takes the opportunity to slip between your lips.

“Fuck,” he moans out causing Jungkook to chuckle, palming the globes of your ass as he drives into you.

“I told you,” Jungkook pants out, “her mouth is unreal.

Eunwoo’s heavy on your tongue, and a little salty from precum, but you don’t mind. Though you struggle to keep up with them both. As one pulls out the other thrusts deeper, you caught in the middle, like a spit roast.

You try to engage, bobbing your head on Eunwoo’s cock, bouncing your ass back to meet Jungkook’s thrusts, but it’s no use. You were no match for these two.

Eunwoo works you until jaw hurts and you muster up the courage to pinch his thigh, signaling him to stop. He pulls out of your mouth with a wet pop and you gasp for breath, coughing slightly.

“You ok baby,” Jungkook asks. Concern in his voice, though he doesn’t slow up, hip pounding into your ass.

You could feel your second orgasm steadily approaching, and you were sure he could too by how hard your walls were contracting around him.

“Fuck,” he sighs out breathless as he slaps your ass, obsessed with the jiggle in response. “Does my princess want to cum?” He asks, earning a shudder from you in response.

He grips you by the hair, arching your back as the head of his dick stabs you right on that special spot, making you see stars.

He tightens his hold in your hair, causing you to wince. “Answer me,” he growls in your ear.

You stare straight ahead at Eunwoo, who’s currently fisting his cock as he watches, the tip an angry purple.

“Yes sir, please let-,” your voice sounds pathetic but you don’t give a fuck. “Let me cum please. I can’t take it,”

He laughs releasing you as he pulls out. You flop back into the couch, well spent.

“I can’t let you come again before our guest Y/N. That’s bad hospitality. Now spin around and present that pretty pussy for Eunwoo. I’m sure he’s been dying to get inside.” Jungkook commands, nudging you.

It takes a minute, but you comply on shaky legs, giving Eunwoo clear access to your soaked pussy.

“So pretty,” he whispers, rubbing a finger through your folds, before sinking in slowly.

You glance over your shoulder and watch as he pulls his digit out of you, popping the finger in his mouth and sucking.

You hang your head, surprised. Who the fuck knew Eunwoo was this freaky.

Too caught off guard by his act, you aren’t prepared for when he sinks in, dick pulsating inside of you.

It doesn’t burn as much anymore, but the stretch was still there.

“Do what you want, but don’t cum inside,” Jungkook warns Eunwoo, watching from his end of the couch.

Eunwoo huffs out a laugh, hips slamming against your ass, jostling you into Jungkook.

“You’re doing so good princess,” Jungkook says as he pats your face. “You’re taking Eunwoo so well.”

He smooths the sweaty curls out of your face as you whine. Eunwoo’s dick had a sick curve to it, and it was hitting you just right, you wouldn’t last much longer.

“I need to cum,” you choke out, orgasm approaching stronger than the first. Eunwoo’s thrust were growing irregular behind you, off-beat signaling he wasn’t too far behind.

“Oh you need to huh?” Jungkook asks, teasing. “Too bad.”

You groan resting your head on your forearms as you take it, fighting the urge for as long as humanly possible.

“Please sir, I can’t hold it,” you cry, begging for mercy. You stare at him with a tear streaked face, completely ruined.

“I don’t know baby, I think you can wait a little longer,” Jungkook trails off, chuckling as you yelp when Eunwoo leans forward, fingers circling your clit.

“Fuck! She’s squeezing me so tight,” Eunwoo gasps out, hips stuttering.

He plows into you once more before pulling out, seed spilling all over you ass. You feel it trickle down your thighs, Eunwoo rubbing it into your skin.

Jungkook slouches down in front of you, stroking his cock. He still hasn’t cum yet either. Fuck.

“Come ride me, Y/N,” he says, voice dripping with arousal.

“I can’t,” you whine out, “I can’t feel my legs,” you were struggling to hold yourself up, completely spent.

“Are you telling me no, Y/N?” He asks voice deep, lacking any humor. Goosebumps pierce your skin.

“Of course not, Sir,” you hurry out, mustering up the energy to move towards him.

Eunwoo had slouched down into the couch, watching hungrily as he comes down from his orgasm

Jungkook helps you out, hoisting you up by the arms as you struggle to line yourself up his cock.

When you sink down on it, the both of you hiss, your legs giving out forcing you to engulf the whole length.

You wrap your arms around his neck and he latches onto your waist, lifting you up and slamming you right back down.

The pace is slow, Jungkook enjoying the fucked out look on your face. You were so beautiful to him. So ethereal like this, coming undone on his cock.

“You did so good today, baby,” he praises as he quickens his thrust. “You took the both of us so well, I think you deserve an award.”

The praise goes straight to your core, your orgasm circling back. “Please sir…” you trail off unable to complete the sentence. You need this release.

He kisses your temple, then your nose and cheek, before finally your lips, before finally saying the words you’ve been dying to hear. “Cum for me Y/N.”

And you do.

Your orgasm rushes over you so intense that you shout out as your vision blurs. You clinch like a vice around Jungkook, sending him over the edge as he paints your walls.

“Fuck Baby,” he groans against you, fucking you through it, making it all the more intense.

You slump against him, mind soft and distant, like someone turned the volume down on the world. Your body melts into his, boneless and quiet, your skin humming with the aftershocks of release. Thoughts barely forms, just sensation: his warmth at your front, the steady thump of his heart, the low rumble of his voice somewhere far away.

You don’t speak. You can’t.

You only breathe, slow and shallow, as the room sways gently around you, everything hazy and far away. A gentle fog wraps around your thoughts

It takes you a minute to come back around, a lot longer than you realize. When awareness finally starts to return, you’re no longer on the couch, no longer bare and trembling under their gaze.

You’re warm.

Clean.

Wrapped in blankets and the steady rhythm of Jungkook’s heartbeat beneath your cheek.

His chest rises and falls beneath you, one hand stroking lazy, comforting circles into your back. The scent of him is all around you.

“It’s okay, baby,” he murmurs against your hair, kissing your head softly. “I’m here. You were so good for us, princess.”

Your throat is dry when you whisper, “Where’s Eunwoo?”

Jungkook smiles against your temple, voice still low, still gentle. “He left a little while ago. He wanted me to let you know that he enjoyed tonight.”

Heat blooms across your cheeks, slow and deep.

You bury your face further into Jungkook’s chest, heart fluttering at the thought. You’ll never be able to see Eunwoo the same after this.

Jungkook chuckles softly. “Don’t get shy on me now,” he murmurs, voice rich with warmth. “You were everything I knew you’d be,” he adds, pressing a kiss to your temple. “And more.”

You smile against his skin, body still heavy but finally at peace.

The two of you drift off to sleep after that—tangled in sheets, in each other, and in the quiet aftermath of something you both know neither of you will forget.

A/N: I definitely need to go touch some grass after this, lol! But thank you guys so much for 100 followers!! As I post this I’m already at 199, which is so crazy because I literally just hit 100 a few days ago😭! I appreciate you guys so much and I’m so happy you take time out of your day to read my fics!! 💕💕🫶🏽😚

[imminentdreamermuse]

Welp.

[imminentdreamermuse]

That's Not What You Like

Pairing: Yunho x afab!reader

Word count: 2.7k

Genre: smut, fantasy/historical-ish setting

Summary: At a palace ball with your new fiancée you run into Yunho who hasn't accepted that you have moved on, could he be right?

Warnings: MDNI, explicit content 18+ only, kind of non-con, edging, a bit of bondage, dom/possessive Yunho

This is complete fiction and doesn't represent the real people etc.

A/N: This is in honour of the first line of any Ateez song that I ever heard, I don't think I'll need to explain which one.

Also an entirely self-serving cameo from one of my favourite biases outside of Ateez who Yeosang used as an example during their argument about Atiny going to watch other idols.

Enjoy!

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Fic Masterlist

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The night was warm and the air smelled of jasmine and the sea. The palace was bustling with party goers as you leaned against a wall, hoping against hope that he wasn’t going to show up. You were happy now, life was uncomplicated and you liked it this way. Yunho turning up and being his usual difficult self would not go well for either you or Eunwoo.

‘Why are you hiding out here, beautiful?’ Eunwoo whispered in your ear, making you jump a little. You turn and instantly feel all the stress drain out of you, his eyes twinkling as he smiles at you, pleased that he has caught you off guard, glad he still makes your pulse quicken.

He looks beautiful tonight in black and gold, the buttons on his jacket gleaming in the moonlight.

‘Shall we dance?’ He asks, holding a white gloved hand out, which you gratefully take, and you walk together through the grand glass doors into the ball room.

You take in the skirts twirling, the sound of feet moving to the tempo of the band to the side. The room is glowing in candlelight and you and Eunwoo move together like you are two halves of the same being, whispering to each other, in your own world.

He turns you and as you move, mid-spin, you see Yunho, towering over the women gathered around him, staring directly at you. Shit. When did he arrive? How long has he been watching you? It doesn’t matter you tell yourself as you turn back to the man you’re with, the man you’re going to marry. His eyes crinkle as he smiles at you and you breathe out a sigh of relief.

But you can feel Yunho’s dark gaze upon you, and worse, the glares of the women trying to catch his attention. He isn’t subtle - his size and the weight of his eyes on you visible to everyone in the room. You feel your breath catching in your throat and you need to be away from him, away from that stare.

‘I’ll be right back,’ you say, silently pleading that Eunwoo hasn’t yet noticed the dark presence. His brow creases but he lets you go.

You don’t run but, picking your skirts up, you move as fast as possible away from the crowds, down through the palace corridors until you find a quiet spot beside the staircase. God you wish you could loosen the ribbons of your corset, the boning making it hard to catch your panicked breath. Your head jerks up when you hear him.

‘It was nice of you to find somewhere we wouldn’t be disturbed,’ Yunho says, stepping out from a dark corner. The smile on his mouth doesn’t reach his eyes.

‘I don’t have anything to say to you,’ you say. It comes out weak and quiet and all you want is for someone to come down the stairs, round the corner, anything.

His long legs mean just 3 paces and he’s right in front of you so you have to look up if you want to look him in the eyes. You want to, stare him down and tell him you’re happy now. But as you turn your face up all the words get frozen in your throat.

‘Why are you still pretending you want to be with him and not me, lover?’ His hand comes up and strokes your bare arm and you pull back but end up against the wall.

‘I am not your lover Yunho,’ you say. You look anywhere but at him, ready to bolt except now his arms are coming up and resting on the walls either side of you, his imposing frame leaning down so his face is level with yours.

‘Are you sure about that? Are you sure you don’t picture me when he’s inside you, lover?’ he whispers. His eyes are blazing now and you swallow down the rising bile in your throat.

‘I… I wasn’t even thinking about you when you were inside me,’ you spit back at him. He squints his eyes at you and his jaw ticks, anger visible in his jaw in the way that you know means you’ve caught him off guard.

His hands are still either side of you and although you don’t want to touch him you press your palm to the dark velvet of his jacket to try and push him away but he remains immoveable.

‘Please, Eunwoo will be waiting for me.’

‘Do not. Say. His. Name.’ He moves forward, pressing closer into you and drawing up to his full height.

His hand slides down the wall and onto your hip, grabbing you and pulling you flush against him.

‘Lover’ he says with a forced smile, ‘the only man’s name I ever want to hear come out of those lips is mine while I’m taking you apart.’ With that he crashes his lips into yours.

You beat your fists against him but he traps them in one large hand as the other holds you against him. His lips press to yours and you feel your own betray you even as you feel tears come to your eyes.

He pulls back, a look of victory in his eyes.

‘See, your body knows what your heart keeps fighting. You are mine.’

He reaches out and long fingers caress your jaw and wipe your tears away.

‘I would choose him over you every day,’ you say, but you sound less certain. He just smiles and your feet follow as he takes your hand and leads you up the stairs.

========================================================================

When you reach the room he is staying in you realise the mistake you’re making and try to pull your hand out of his grasp but he catches your wrist - no words needed. Gripping tight he pulls you towards him and through the door.

As he slams the door shut behind you his hand comes up and grips your throat. It isn’t tight but enough to give you goosebumps, he feels you swallow hard under his fingers. He leans in and kisses you again.

‘Don’t forget, I know every part of you,’ he says between kisses. ‘I know your darkest desires, I know what makes you scream, I know what makes you quiver.’ He turns you and your hands land on the door as he makes quick work of loosening your corset. He reaches round and, while sliding his hands down your chest, he pulls the corset open and lets it fall to the floor.

You take the first deep breath you’ve been able to take for what feels like hours. The relief is short-lived though when you feel Yunho’s lips on your neck and the ribbon of your undershirt being unknotted.

‘You always knew how to be a good girl for me, didn’t you?’ he whispers in your ear causing you to shiver with equal parts lust and guilt.

His lips trace your spine and his hands undo the skirts that envelop you. Just as they’re about to fall you grab them and spin to see him on his knees.

‘No, I can’t do this, you have to stop Yunho. Please, I can’t do this to Eunwoo.’

‘Stop saying his name. You don’t belong to him, you belong only to me,’ he shouts this time. You shrink back against the door, accidentally letting go of your skirts. They drop down to the floor and Yunho looks up at you, his eyes taking in the sight of your bare top half and the silk shorts the only thing on your bottom half.

His eyes glow as he presses forward, his head resting on your stomach, hands trailing up your sides. He pulls at your shorts and you let out a whimper as you feel the soft silk float away from you. Silently he looks up at you and for the first time tonight you are reminded of how he worships you, your body.

He lifts your legs so you step out of your underwear and then, eyes still looking up at you, he rests your leg on his shoulder. He closes his eyes and rests his cheek on your thigh, his hand sliding up and just gently pressing against you.

‘I knew you would be wet for me, lover,’ he says, his voice husky as his fingers slowly scissor your folds apart.

His tongue darts out and licks you from top to bottom and you gasp at the sensation - both strange and yet still familiar after all this time. He traces patterns over your clit and you lean forward into it, making him moan into you. The door is cold on your back and your skirts are still on the floor around you both but the only sensation that matters is his mouth on you, growing hungrier by the minute.

He moves his mouth down and starts to fuck you with his tongue, his nose bumping you in just the right spot. You reach your hands down and put your fingers in his hair holding him to you and you feel the smirk in his lips.

As you start to grind your hips into him, your breath coming shallower the closer you get, he pushes one then two fingers inside of you and pumps them in and out as he focuses on flicking his tongue on your clit again.

‘Right there, don’t stop, please,’ you cry. Just as you feel the tightness in your stomach and your cries are starting to merge into one, he stops.

‘Lover, you didn’t think I would reward you so soon after everything you’ve put me through?’ His smile is mocking and you gape down at him, shock in every fibre of your being.

He stands up, his lips still covered with your slick and he kisses you hard, forcing his tongue into your mouth. He grabs your hips and lifts you up, wrapping your legs around him and carrying you to the bed.

Half of your brain is screaming ‘get your clothes and leave, what are you doing?’ while the other half tightens your thighs on him and wraps your arms around his neck.

The bed is big, a four poster bed with curtains around it and pillows piled up by the headboard. He practically throws you on it and you bounce back, unnerved by both his roughness and realising he is still fully dressed.

Yunho reaches over to the curtain tie and rips it down, grabbing your wrists and tying them together. He pushes you flat, pulls your arms above your head and ties it to the post of the bed. The restraints are tight and the position of your arms pushes your breasts up so he can see how quickly you’re breathing from the movement of your chest.

Your choices are flashing before your eyes now, how have you ended up here, again.

Yunho is undressing, slipping off his jacket, unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off his wide shoulders. You can’t help but look at him, his broad chest on display as he looks down at you, his hand resting on the buttons of his trousers.

‘Do you think Prince Charming downstairs can ever make you feel like I do?’ Yunho asks as he walks back towards the bed. He undoes his top buttons but doesn’t remove his bottoms. He pushes your thighs apart and presses himself down on you, the bulge in his trousers pushing through the material into your core.

His weight bearing down on you he starts to kiss and lick at your neck, your collarbone, your chest. Your hips move involuntarily, grinding into his hardness, begging for friction.

‘I love him,’ you say, your body contradicting your words and Yunho knows it.

He bites down on your collarbone, hard enough to make you cry out and he licks it to soothe it.

‘No, you don’t,’ he says, looking you in the eyes. His expression is steel and you don’t know how to argue anymore.

‘Try saying that again while I ruin you over and over again until dawn.’

He stands up to take off his trousers and you can’t help the moan that comes out of you when he’s fully naked, strong and lean - precum already beading on the head of his cock.

He’s back on top of you and this time you can’t help it - you kiss him, your neck craning off the bed and your arms pulling the tie above you, wishing for the freedom to run your hands over his soft skin. Maybe this is what you needed, one last time to get him out of your system, one final goodbye.

He kisses you back with hunger and his hands are running up and down you, grasping at every part of you.

One hand reaches for your breast and after just a few gentle flicks he pinches it hard making you gasp and clench around nothing.

‘Tell me you want only me,’ Yunho says, his forehead pressed against yours.

‘No,’ you reply, still defiant.

‘Have it your way, you’ll admit it tonight one way or another.’

He reaches down and pushes his fingers in you roughly. His fingers are long and he always knew how to curl them so they hit you in the sweet spot immediately. His thumb comes up and rubs on your clit. After being edged once it doesn’t take long for you to be on the precipice again.

When you’re clenching on his fingers but before you’re pushed over the edge he pulls them out and thrusts inside you before you have time to process what is happening. He isn’t gentle and he bottoms out immediately. He at least waits a moment for you to adjust to him once he’s inside of you and your breathy pants from just having him resting inside of you makes his lips curl up in a smile.

‘What were you saying about not being my lover? It seems your body knows exactly what it needs,’ he says as he slowly pulls almost all the way out before pressing back in. In comparison to how he was when he entered you he moves slowly - the drag of his cock meaning you can feel every ridge, every vein. He pushes your thighs up higher and he’s hitting so deep you can feel it in your stomach.

‘I’m going to cum, I can’t…’ you cry out.

‘Can’t what?’ He grunts as his thrusts get harder but he keeps the slow, tortuous pace. ‘Can’t last when you know my cock was made for you? Can’t handle it when you’ve not had your pussy pounded the way you need it? Tell me you’re mine and I’ll let you cum.’

Tears spring to your eyes again. You do need him. You need this. Your body needs him.

‘Look at me,’ Yunho says, gripping your jaw.

‘Yes,’ you reply, barely able to keep your eyes open at the relentless feeling of his head hitting your cervix.

‘Tell me. Tell me who you belong to?’ His other hand snakes between you, pressing down between your legs, not quite touching enough to push you over the edge. ‘Say my name, tell me you’re mine.’

He starts to move his fingers and you nearly choke as the previous interrupted orgasms threaten to rip out of you.

‘You, Yunho, only you,’ you babble as he presses harder and the feeling of your orgasm crashes over you. He doesn’t let up and as you start to come down from the high you try to wriggle away from the overstimulation.

‘Lover, I think it’s best that I decide what you need from here on.’ He pulls his hand away but his pace starts to increase and you can’t help the cries that are coming out of you as he leans back and fucks you mercilessly. His hands are bruising as he pulls your hips up off the bed.

It’s overwhelming and when he presses his thumb down on you it immediately winds you up again. His hips stuttering and his pace becoming sloppy as he pulls another orgasm out of you. As your walls clench, and you scream his name, he cums hard, filling you up and grinding it into you.

Before he collapses down on you he reaches up and releases your restraints. The blood rushes into your arms as you bring them down from above your head and rest them on Yunho’s back, finally able to feel him.

He looks up at you, eyes wide and vulnerable for the first time that night.

‘Who do you belong to?’

‘You, Yunho, it was only ever you.’

***************

[imminentdreamermuse]

The Producer

Pairing: San x afab!reader x Hongjoong

Word count: 1.5k

Genre: smut

Summary: when you and San can't keep your hands off each other one night, you weren't expecting to get caught by Hongjoong

Warnings: MDNI, explicit content 18+ only

This is complete fiction and doesn't represent the real people etc.

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Fic Masterlist

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It was late with just the two of you in the practice studio while San filmed a short dance to upload on social media. Of course you had both checked that the camera couldn’t see you hidden away in the corner and he had to restart twice because he couldn’t help looking at you.

‘I think that one was good, can you check?’ he asked.

‘I already know it’s going to drive Atiny wild, but I’ll use my expert eye for you.’ You grabbed the phone and watched. He looked at you with nerves and expectation on his face.

‘It’s alright,’ you teased. ‘I might need a closer look at some of those moves though.’

‘Oh really,’ he said with a smirk, taking the phone out of your hand and gently crowding you against the mirror.

‘Hmmm, I think you need to practice the move with your hips a bit more,’ you said looking up into his darkening eyes. He pressed into you and leaned into your neck, breath catching on your ear as he whispered.

‘I think we both know I don’t need any improvement there,’ he said.

He abruptly pulled back and left you with the cold glass against your back but his smile told you this wasn’t over. Without a word he grabbed your hand and pulled you with him.

‘Where…’ you began.

He turned back and put his finger to his lips.

The building was empty at this time of night and you turned a corner towards the studio rooms. He pulled you through a door, and another, until you were in the sound booth.

‘Now I can make you scream my name and no one will hear.’

He pressed into you again, all teasing gone. His lips collided with yours and he grabbed your hips and started controlling your movements until your back hit the wall. His tongue stroking yours with need.

Never taking his mouth from yours his hands started to move up from your hips until they rested gently on the side of your breasts. He leaned back and pulled your top down enough that your breasts spilled out of the top and he bent his head to lick alongside the black lace of your bra.

He kissed along your collar bone as his hands rubbed over your hardening nipples and then roughly pulled the bra down.

‘Please Sannie, I want to feel you,’ you whispered into his hair as his tongue mapped your chest. He stood straight and pulled his white tshirt over his head. He pressed his forehead against yours as you ran your hands down his strong back. Near his waist you dug your nails in and he whimpered and ground his hips into yours.

San pulled at your underwear and you stepped out of it, your skirt bunching up around your hips as he ran his fingers along your thighs. You pushed forward trying to get him to touch you where you wanted and a small laugh came out of him just as the studio light came on behind him.

You both froze, San’s eyes wide at the change. You looked over his shoulder through the glass at the man sat behind the desk, watching. Time slowed and San cursed as he turned his head and saw Hongjoong sitting there.

You went to pull your top up and Hongjoong leaned forward to the mic and, pressing the intercom button, said one word.

‘Don’t.’

San spun around, eyes wide with shock.

‘Hyung?’ he started.

Hongjoong pressed the intercom again.

‘Show me how much she likes feeling your hands on her cunt.’ He let go of the button, leaned back and rested his hand on his lap where a bulge was already starting to show.

San turned back and looked at you, his eyes confused but you could tell he was not against the idea.You looked at him and then Hongjoong. Your eyes not leaving his, you nodded once.

Your hands ran down your skirt and gripped the hem, slowly bringing it up for the two men to see. San paused for a moment then glanced over his shoulder.

‘Show me,’ Hongjoong repeated through the speakers.

San looked you in the eyes and waited, you nodded again. Silently his hand came down between your legs, feeling how wet you were. His eyes fluttered closed as he slid his finger along your folds and slowed pressed in, finding your clit and rubbing slowly with just enough pressure to make your toes curl.

You gasped and your eyes shot up to Hongjoong’s face, watching you intently, something you had never had during such an intimate moment before. As your eyelids fluttered the first instruction came.

‘Put your fingers inside her, I want her to come at least once before she gets your cock.’

San stopped for half a second then slid his middle and ring fingers gently into you, your head falling to his neck as he waited for you to adjust. His skin smelled deeply like him mixed with sweat from the rehearsal earlier. You couldn’t help but flutter your lips against his bare skin as he started to pump his fingers in and out, his thumb catching your bud.

As your moans grew louder and you could hear the sound of your slick you looked up again at Hongjoong.

‘That’s it jagiya, keep your eyes on me.’

San leaned down and bit your neck as he hit that spot inside you perfectly with his fingers and you felt yourself shudder as your orgasm came over you.

‘San,’ you cried out while your eyes never left Hongjoongs.

The waves of your orgasm started to fade away and you grabbed San and kissed him, your tongues crashing into each other as you both got carried away by the new sensation of being watched together.

Your hands moved down to San’s grey sweat pants and pushed them down far enough for his hard cock to spring up onto his abdomen.

‘Pick her up,’ the voice through the intercom commanded.

San grabbed your ass and easily lifted you as you wrapped your legs around his hips. He pressed your back against the wall and you could feel his erection against you.

Your weight supported against the wall, you put your hands on San’s shoulders and looked at Hongjoong, waiting for him to tell you both what he wanted. He had undone his trousers and you could see him stroking himself slowly.

Getting impatient, San's head started to turn but Hongjoong pressed the intercom button and spoke.

‘Do you think she’s ready for you, Sannie?’

San nodded his head, his desperation to bury himself in you evident in his face.

‘Then have her.’

San immediately thrust into you, taking the air out of your lungs and you cried out. He waited for you to get your breath back and then pulled out almost all the way before slamming himself back into you.

You curled into him, your arms on his big shoulders and your hands in his hair but your face out to see Hongjoong, now starting to pant as his hand picked up speed. San was panting into your neck as he snapped into you.

‘Make her come on your cock,’ said Hongjoong, his voice tense as he tried to sound like he was still in control.

San reached his hand down in between you and rubbed your clit while he slowed down to a grind that hit you in the sweet spot.

It was too much, the stimulation from both San inside you and his hands, as well as Hongjoong’s eyes on you, precum beading on the head of his cock as he worked it. You couldn’t hear him but you could see his chest moving as he panted.

You leaned back against the wall and San bounced you on his cock a few more times before you shattered and screamed out. Just as your orgasm peaked you could see Hongjoong come apart and thick white ropes covered the skin of his stomach. Seeing him made you clench your walls, your orgasm prolonged, and San stuttered and groaned as he came inside you.

His skin hot, you looked at him and kissed him, ‘you were so good baby, you made me feel so good,’ you whispered to him between kisses. His dazed expression started to clear and he lifted you enough for you to take your legs from him and stand, leaning on the wall for support while he tucked himself back in his sweatpants.

His chest was glistening now, he was always so beautiful right after he came and he smiled as he caught you staring.

You spent a moment longer just looking at each other as you tried to sort your own clothes and then San leaned down to pick his tshirt up and you looked out through the glass.

The light was still on but Hongjoong was gone.

San looked up and noticed as well.

‘Let’s go home, maybe he’ll invite us back for part 2.’

‘I hope so,’ you said quietly.

***************

[thatateezgirl]

𝕎𝕙𝕠'𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕓𝕚𝕒𝕤?

You weren’t supposed to matter, but he made sure you did.

---------

𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅!𝖲𝖺𝗇 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾: 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍

𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: 𝖬𝖣𝖭𝖨, 𝖲𝖾𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗐𝖺 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽, 𝖬𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗂 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗈, 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝗉𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗆𝖻𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 (𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅 𝗑 𝖿𝖺𝗇), 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗑𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝖽𝗎𝖻 𝖼𝗈𝗇 (𝗂𝗌𝗁 - 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗎𝗉), 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗒/𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌, 𝗎𝗇𝗌𝖺𝖿𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗋 (𝖿), 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗌𝖾𝗑, 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗆𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒, 𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 (𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗏𝖾), 𝗌𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 (𝖿), 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖽𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗇𝗍, 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖽𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗒𝗉𝗁𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖺, 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗂𝗍 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾, 𝗉𝗁𝗒𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍/𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗎𝗇𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗑, 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗎𝗍.

𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌: 9.7𝗄

𝖠𝖭: 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗌𝗄. 𝖨 𝗐𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗎𝗇𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽 (𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒…)

𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅, 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗎𝗇

𝖱𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 🤍

---------

If anyone asked you how you got here, right now, they wouldn’t believe a word coming out of your mouth.

You’d posted a video of San during his Creep solo with a sarcastic caption, and he’d messaged you about it. You didn’t believe it was him. Of course you were skeptical - scammers are a dime a dozen nowadays.

But then he challenged you - told you to wear a red top at their next show where you told him you had barricade, and he would point and wink at you.

Which he did.

That’s when you realised this was, in fact, Choi San who you’d been talking to.

It sounds delusional, doesn’t it?

Even more delusional was the fact that you’d kept in contact since. It’s been weeks since the concert, maybe a couple of months, but every now and then, you see his name pop up in your inbox, and it sends a jolt of excitement through you.

Still, you’ve tried not to let it affect you.

He’s an idol. You’re a fan. He’s nice, but that’s it. End of story. Nothing else.

Except that he’s the first person you messaged when you landed in Incheon for your week and a half solo trip. You don’t know why, exactly. You didn’t even think to update your friends and family first. And he’d responded instantly, expressing relief that your flight went well, and to let him know when you got to your accommodation.

But it was nothing. Again, he’s just a nice guy.

So nice that he checked in with you every day, asking how you were finding Seoul. You didn’t meet in the four days you’ve been here, but it almost felt like he was on this trip with you. You’d post a story, send him a text or ask a question, and he’d reply almost instantly, no matter the time.

You just hadn’t told him where you were going tonight.

It felt weird telling an idol that you wanted to go clubbing in notorious Hongdae of all places. Not exactly idol friendly and not known for its high class, but it’s also somewhere you’d been dying to go to. As everyone said, you haven’t gone to Seoul if you didn’t go out in Hongdae.

Plus, you’d met some girls at a cafe in Seongsu who were also there on holiday, and you had collectively decided to go out together. You just sort of… lost sight of them, at some point between being pulled into a club and being handed a shot of tequila.

Who cares, you’re having fun regardless.

San is still awake at 2am, his mind unable to stop thinking about the fact that you’re here, in Seoul - in Hongdae, so damn close to him. The photo you’d uploaded to your story had his head spinning. Your outfit left little to the imagination, with thigh high frilly socks squeezing your skin just so, and he both wanted to tear it off of you and cover you from anyone else’s gaze.

He opens the app again, your name already in the search bar. There’s a bright circle around your picture and his heart stops for a second, not sure if he’s ready to see what else you posted, but his thumb clicks on it before his mind can decide.

There you are, posing with a bottle of champagne in one hand, sparklers in the other. Someone else is taking the photo, and automatically his mind wants to know who that is, looking for any clues on the screen, but there’s none.

There’s another slide, a video. This time, you’re dancing on one of the tables, a man behind you who you don’t even seem to be aware of - until you turn and start dancing with him, and San’s vision turns red.

The hashtag reads #wheninHongdae.

“Right.” He scoffs to himself, putting his phone down and turning over for the hundredth time.

He tries not to think about it - doesn’t want to think about it. Except all his mind is doing is replaying that video. He screws his eyes shut, so tightly stars start appearing behind his eyelids, but all they do is make the image of you become hazy.

He grunts, turning back towards his phone, opening the app and replaying the video. Again. And again.

The more he watches, the more he can tell how drunk you are, your heeled boots wobbling slightly on the slippery surface, fingers tightly wrapped around the metal structure on the ceiling.

He clicks on your conversation, fingers flying over the keyboard.

ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴛɪᴍᴇ?

He doesn’t expect an answer so soon but your reply comes in almost instantly - well, not quite a reply. His phone lights up with the “Video call incoming” screen. His first reaction is to freeze. You’ve never called before. He knows he shouldn’t. He won’t.

But if he doesn’t, what will you think? And what if you need help and he leaves you alone?

“Heyyyyy!” You singsong as soon as he answers.

The music is incredibly loud behind you, the bass making his phone speakers vibrate against his palm. The connection isn’t the best, but he can tell your eyes are bloodshot from the alcohol, making him worry more than he should.

“Why are you calling?”

“Huh?” You shout, bringing the phone closer to your face until all he can see is your hair.

“Why are you calling me when you’re out clubbing?” He enunciates.

You pull away, phone in front of your face again - your face which is beaming with a smile so radiant it makes his heart beat a little faster.

“Cause you texted. I wan’ed talk t’ you.”

Despite the sentence being completely slurred, he can feel his stomach flip. Even though you’re on holiday, on a night out, you still wanted to talk to him…

“Are you having fun?”

You nod, more dramatically than necessary.

“Hongdae’s great. Free aloco- alcohol. Sorry.” You say with a giggle at your slurred word.

“I can see that.”

He wishes he had it in him to scold you for being so drunk when you’re all alone, but he can’t help but feel happy to see you so carefree.

“Why you up? ‘s late!”

He chews on his lip for a moment. “I was worrying about you.”

The way your lips pout and brows furrow at his words makes butterflies erupt in his chest, a swarm he tries his best to ignore.

“Aww you’re so cuuute. ‘m fine though. S’rious- oh my god!”

“What happened?”

“They playin’ ATEEZ listen!”

You bring the phone up to the speakers, the volume making him wince, but he can hear the faint instrumentals of Bouncy playing through them.

The way you’re jumping around and dancing has him starting to feel queasy - until the screen turns black.

He sits up in his bed, covers half of off his suddenly boiling body. “Y/n?”

There’s a moment of interminable silence as his mind races through the different possibilities of what could have happened. He tries calling your name again but the music is too loud. Your face suddenly appears on the screen again and he breathes out a sigh of relief.

“Sorry. Fell.”

“The phone or you?”

You wince, showing him your scratched up elbow. “Both.”

His heart is hammering in his chest. “Right, that’s it. I’m sending someone to pick you up. You’re too drunk and I don’t want to keep worrying about you. You’re gonna come back here, and I’m gonna sober you up before you go back to your accommodation.”

You start whining but he cuts you off.

“This isn’t up for discussion y/n. Go outside, Ryeok will get to you in ten minutes. Don’t. Move. And don’t hang up.”

You pout again but nod your head yes as you heed his request, making your way up the stairs to the bustling street.

Thankfully, his manager sees the text within minutes, already on his way to you.

San hates not being able to go get you himself, make sure you’re okay with his own eyes, but this is the only way. You’re still on the line, like he requested, holding the phone with crossed arms as you scan the street for the awaited car. You look so innocent like that, not trying to put on a front for social media, and he can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips.

The ride back to his dorm is a blur.

Ryeok doesn’t say a word, probably feeling just as awkward about the situation as you do. But he’s nice, and he doesn’t judge you, even when you struggle to get into the car and he has to hold your hand so you don’t fall.

It’s embarrassing to say the least.

You have no idea where you are, but after a sequence of hazy streetlights and cars, you stop, and your mind takes a second to follow.

You bring your head up with a groan.

“감사합니당.”

He flashes you a small smile as the door opens. You look at it in confusion - if you didn’t open it and Ryeok is sitting right there then…

San’s smile is the first thing you see as you look up - warm, comforting, and familiar despite never having been face to face before.

For some reason, although you knew you were going to see him, your drunken mind hadn’t quite realised he was going to be there. In front of you. In person. Not on a screen, not on FaceTime, not even on a stage separated from you by barricades and staff. He’s here in the flesh - or rather, you are there in front of him. In front of his apartment building.

He holds out his hand to you. You stare at it. Then at him. And back at his hand.

“You know, it’s pretty late. I’m sure Ryeok hyung would like to go get some sleep.”

Your cheeks are burning at his words, and you turn to apologise to the man before grabbing San’s hand and scrambling out with as much dignity as you can muster.

He leans into the car, his hand never leaving yours as he mumbles something inaudible to his manager, before he gives him a small wave and shuts the door, leaving him free to return home.

San doesn’t say a word, he just holds your hand as he carefully guides you through the building doors and all the stairs and turns, until you arrive at his dorm.

“Seonghwa and Mingi are asleep so try not to be too loud. They’re heavy sleepers and the walls are pretty thick but still.”

You don’t answer or move as the realisation dawns on you. This isn’t just San’s dorm. Of course it isn’t. You’re breathing heavily now, panting a little at the overwhelming turn that this night has taken.

He hears you and stops dialing the code to the door.

“Hey, hey. It’s fine. You’re fine. They won’t mind. You’re not doing anything wrong - I’m the one who brought you back here to sober up. Okay? And as soon as you’ve had some food and water and can walk straight, I’ll call you a taxi and you can leave. Alright?”

His tone is gentle and soothing, his hand squeezing yours, and you nod, though your heart is still racing in your chest.

Of all the ways you ever imagined meeting any member of ATEEZ, being drunk, in a mini skirt and tube top, and reeking of smoke and sweat, isn’t remotely close to what you’d imagined…

The beep of the door as it unlocks makes you jolt, but you try your best to be quiet - maybe a little too much, as you see San chuckle at your exaggeratedly slow steps. He takes off his shoes and you do the same, the cool floor a welcome contrast to the heat and humidity outside.

You take in the place for a second.

It’s simple.

The kitchen has all the basic necessities, a few photos hung up on the fridge with an extensive collection of magnets from different places they’ve toured. The living room only has a couch, a coffee table, and a tv, though you notice a PlayStation plugged in which makes you smile. They’re such dorks.

For a moment, you forget why you’re here, until San hands you a glass of water and a couple of hangover pills.

“They’ll help. Trust me.” He mutters the last part, almost to himself.

You smile at him and take the lot, electricity crackling where your fingertips touch his palm. The cold water is an immediate relief as you feel it flow through your system. You hear some rustling and see him pull out a box.

“Come here so I can clean your elbow.”

You hesitate. “‘s okay, doesn’t hurt.”

“Let me clean it up anyway.”

You roll your eyes - which is a big mistake because it feels like the room has been turned upside down - but oblige, walking slowly until you can lean on the counter.

He takes out a sterile pad and sprays it with alcohol, looking at you with a scrunched face.

“It’s gonna sting, I’m sorry.”

He grabs your arm gently, exposing your elbow to him and you can’t help but watch him, mesmerised. He’s so pretty when he’s all serious like that.

Carefully, he lowers the pad to your wound and you wince, whining at the burn. He wishes the sound didn’t affect him the way it did because it feels wrong.

“Stay still.”

You bite your lip but do as he says, brows drawn as the sting begins to subside. Then he takes out a pink plaster and carefully covers your now clean wound with it.

His hand lingers on your forearm and neither of you makes a move to create some distance. His eye contact is intimidating and you hold it, not from choice, but from compulsion.

You’re the one to break the silence.

“How c’me boys ‘ve cute pink plasters?”

He smiles at your question, finally letting go of your arm to clean up. You feel the loss of his warmth immediately.

“My sister got us some refills. She thought it’d be funny if all we had were pink plasters.” He looks at you from the corner of his eyes. “At least it suits one of us.”

You laugh, cheeks matching your new accessory.

“Thanks.” You point to your arm. “‘n thanks.”

He just nods his head in response, puffing his cheeks as he looks away. He’s so cute your drunken heart could explode.

“I’m gonna make myself some ramen. Want any?”

“That’s great, thanks.”

You watch as he boils the water, pours it in the pots and lets the concoction cook before pouring out the water and mixing the spices. He looks so homely, so mundane. It feels a little surreal, but in this moment, he doesn’t feel like an idol. He feels like a man in his twenties making a midnight snack. Except he’s a really, really hot man. With muscles. And dimples.

You clear your throat.

“You mind ‘f I go sit?”

He shakes his head. “No, of course not. Do you need help?”

He starts reaching out for you but you take a step back in panic.

“No - ‘m good. Aaaall good.”

His eyebrows are a little furrowed. “Okay, if you say so.”

You wobble on over to the grey fabric, sinking into the surprisingly comfortable cushions. The room is swaying a little and you try to focus on the canvas filled with red, blue and black abstract lines. You recognise it, but your brain is too foggy to remember where from.

San places the pot and some chopsticks on the table in front of you.

“Careful, it’s really hot.”

“Mmh…” You perk your head up as the smell hits your nose. “Is that cheese? D’you add cheese?”

“Yeah, wh-“

“Oh my god I love you.” You blurt out, completely oblivious to what you’ve just said to him as you grab the pot, wincing at the temperature but eventually placing it on the pillow in your lap.

He just stares at you, blinking occasionally, star struck. He can tell you have no idea what you’ve just said and that you didn’t mean it like that, but why did it make him feel so good?

He waits for you to take a bite before doing the same, delighting at his stomach finally being filled - he couldn’t eat dinner earlier knowing you were out alone in Hongdae.

You continue slurping your noodles with just as much excitement as before, and he can’t help but think of how cute you look with your cheeks full and your eyes big and shining. You almost remind him of Seonghwa when you eat.

When you finish, you sink back into the couch, the room much more steady than before. Tentatively, you turn your head to look at San, who’s already looking at you softly, his head laying on his fist and his tired eyes heavy.

“What?” You ask quietly.

He shakes his head. “It’s odd. Having you here. We’ve only spoken on instagram. I didn’t expect…”

“I know.” You purse your lips to try and hide the way your cheeks are burning. “Tomorrow when I wake up I’m gonna pretend this was just a big drunken dream. It’s easier to swallow than the reality.”

A pang of hurt crosses his face but he just smiles at you.

“Well, I’m completely sober.”

He leans just slightly closer, and you catch the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the homey smell of the ramen you just ate. Your stomach flutters, and for a second you wonder if this is actually a dream.

You stand up suddenly, your head not quite agreeing with the abrupt movement. The floor tilts slightly beneath you and you clench your teeth until the world has spun back on its axis.

“I should go. I’m feeling better.”

“No you’re not.”

You scoff. “I am!”

“It just took you three whole seconds to stop swaying when you stood up. Stay a little longer.”

He grabs your wrists, locking you in place. He’s not sure why he’s doing it. If you say you’re fine, he should let you go. But he doesn’t want it to be over yet, you barely just got here…

You sigh, unable to resist him. “Fine, I’ll stay a little longer. But I promise I’m - whoops - fine.”

He just laughs at you, a genuine but slightly judgemental laugh, one that you reciprocate.

“You just almost fell while standing still. What makes you think you’re gonna be able to walk straight?”

“Hey!” You protest half heartedly. “At least my sentences make sense now. And there’s only one of you.” You say, trying to hold your index finger up in his grip.

He nods softly. “That’s a great sign.” He hesitates a moment. “Why do you wanna leave so badly anyways? Am I bad company?”

You blush. “No, you’re great. I just don’t wanna impose. And you’re an idol so it’s a little weird…”

He looks away at your words. He knows exactly what you mean. Yet, none of this feels wrong to him. You act so normally around him, it makes him feel like he’s just a man, for once.

“You know,” you start, a mischievous glint in your eyes despite the wobble in your stance, “you’re not even my bias…”

He stares at you for a second.

He did not expect you to say that. Nor did he expect to be jealous - and yet he wishes you hadn’t told him. They all know that their fans have preferences so this isn’t the first time he’s heard it. Still, coming from you, it feels wrong. Plus, how could he not be? After all, you’ve made so many videos and posts about him, you’ve been talking to him all this time… Surely you’re lying.

“Oh, really? And who would be your bias?”

You giggle a little, the remnants of alcohol making you feel lighter than normal.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Sure you can.” He holds your wrists a little tighter, pulling you towards him until your knees are pressed against his. “Just say the name.”

You shake your head - a little too hard as your vision takes a second to adjust.

“Come on Princess, don’t leave me hanging. I’m curious now.”

Your cheeks flush at the pet name. His thumbs are rubbing the inside of your wrists and the motion is distracting you.

“Mingi.” You finally whisper. “Mingi’s my bias.”

He stares into your eyes at the reveal, feeling a wave of jealousy and competitiveness run through his entire being.

“Why?”

You blink at him. “Huh?”

“Why him and not me?”

He pulls you down further, forcing you to sit on his lap, and you’re hyper aware of how little clothing you have on, the back of your thighs separated from him only by his joggers.

You’re inches from his face now, and the proximity has your head spinning more than all the alcohol you ingested tonight.

“He…”

Right this moment, sitting on San’s lap, his strong grip on your wrist and his breath fanning your face, you can’t quite think of a single reason.

“He what?”

You swallow loudly, your throat suddenly dry.

“I…”

He chuckles, a hint of darkness in his eyes.

“Has the cat got your tongue? Oh wait, no he doesn’t, he’s not your bias.”

You look down as you bite your lip, suddenly feeling guilty, though you have no reason to be.

He tilts your chin up with his finger, forcing you to look at him again.

“Come on. Give me one good reason why he’s your bias and not me. Have all the times we’ve spent texting not made you have a single desire to switch?”

Your breathing is heavier, shallower.

Of course the countless hours spent texting meant something. Made you feel something. But, you don’t know what that something is. And it has nothing to do with biases anyways… right?

You try your best to gather your thoughts, ignoring how his warmth is pulsing through you and his smell is invading your nervous system.

“He just feels… big. Without trying.” Your gaze flicks to his lips for a tiny beat before looking in his eyes again. “Like he’d ruin me… and I’d let him.”

San’s breathing hitches at your last sentence, his cheeks turning a slight hue of red.

“What does that make me - do I seem like the safe option to you?”

His hands start travelling to your waist, slowly making their way down to your hips and thighs. You shudder at his touch, unexpected but intoxicating.

“Do I look like I don’t know what I’m doing?”

His fingers hook behind your knees, jerking you forward in one smooth motion until you’re impossibly close to him, reflexively grabbing onto his shirt. He ghosts his lips over yours, and tilts his head slightly.

“Or do you just need me to show you properly?”

He has no idea what he’s doing or saying. He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t not.

You’re here, finally, after weeks of only communicating through text, and you’ve just revealed to him that he’s not the one you think of when you think of ATEEZ? Like you’re not the first person who comes to his mind when he wakes up. Or the last person he wants to text before bed. Or the one he thinks of every time he sees a red top that remotely resembles the one you wore to their show.

There are no words in your brain, only a buzzing - so incredibly loud from the feeling of his touch on your bare skin.

“Yeah, we’re gonna fix that right now.”

He doesn’t let you absorb the information as he suddenly stands, lifting you up with him. You squeal, holding on even more tightly to him, but his grip on you is firm. His steps are hurried towards the bedroom, kicking the door shut.

As soon as it is, his lips crash into yours.

There’s control in the way he kisses you, and there’s also desperation. He’s not just trying to prove a point - he’s been aching to kiss you for weeks.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been thinking of what his lips would feel like the whole night. Looking at them as he spoke and ate, so plush and pink, so smooth and oh so tempting - you’d had to stop yourself from leaning in a few times.

And now, tasting him… it’s everything you thought it would be and more. You cup his face as he presses your back against the wall, squishing you against him so his hand can roam over your body.

His tongue prods at your lips and you let him in gladly, all too happy to taste him. He looks sweet, yet he tastes more dangerous than you ever thought he would.

His fingers caress your thigh. Your legs that are hooked securely around his waist twitch from the softness of his touch. He brings his hand up to your hip leisurely, making sure to slide it below the fabric of your denim skirt, and you moan in his mouth. The sound drives him insane, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass in response.

“San…”

Your core is begging for his touch, but he doesn’t want to go there yet. He wants to take his time. This might be the only time he gets to see and touch you - he’s not about to let it go to waste. Especially not when your admission to biasing Mingi is still ringing in his ears.

His lips trail down your jaw and neck, making sure to suck on the tender skin until he’s sure you won’t wake up to thinking tonight was just a dream.

Your fingers wrap in his hair, tugging with every branded kiss. He’s not quite rough, not quite soft. He’s his own personal brand of exhilarating.

The room is spinning in the distance, but it’s not from the alcohol anymore.

He continues his path down to your collarbones and the top of your chest. You lean your head back against the wall as you pant, fingers tightening in his black strands.

He wants to claim every inch of you, until you can’t think of anyone other than him. Somehow, you’ve managed to make him become obsessed with you, and he won’t stop until you feel the same about him.

Your hands come around to his chest, digging into his flesh for a moment before trying to bring his face back up to meet yours, but he grabs your wrists with one hand, pinning them above your head. His palm and fingers engulf yours effortlessly, and you’re completely powerless against his strength.

These muscles aren’t for show. 

His teeth graze against your skin, right above where the hem of your top has started sliding down. He clamps his teeth around the fabric, pulling it down further to reveal your already perked tits.

“Fuck.”

One simple curse, but it tells you everything you need to know. Your body is trembling with anticipation, forced to look at him, unable to move.

He wets his lips with the tip of his tongue, almost unconsciously. His breath flutters against your sensitive nipples, making you whimper before he’s even touched you.

He likes that. A lot. You’re more responsive to him than he thought you would be, and it excites him. It means you’re not too far gone. Even better, it means you want him. Desperately. 

His tongue laps at the bud, pulling a long sigh from you, which becomes a loud moan when his lips wrap around it. His attention switches between both breasts, leaving neither unloved or uncared for. Your fingers are tingling in his palm from how hard he’s pinning your hands down, aching to touch him too.

The rough wall scrapes against your shoulder blades with every arch of your back but his touch makes you forget about it.

He’s so attuned to every sound and reaction you have, you wonder whether this really is your first time meeting in person. You don’t let your mind think about that last part too hard though, or fear of repercussions and backlash creep into your head. This is so crazy. He’s an idol you’ve never met. You shouldn’t be allowed to be here.

And god does he know it. Every rational thought in his head is telling him he shouldn’t be doing that. That he’ll get the both of you in trouble. And you’ve had too much to drink. This could create a scandal if anyone found out.

Except that when he feels the way your body is responding to him, sees that heated look in your eyes, and hears your beautiful sounds, he knows you’re fully aware of what’s going on and that you want to be here just as badly as he does.

Fuck stereotypes and expectations.

“Let me touch you…” You beg.

He nips at your skin in protest. “Thought you liked the idea of letting Mingi ruin you?”

You gasp, choking on air. He really went there…

“You’re not Mingi.”

He pulls away from you, looking into your eyes with mischief written all over his features.

“No. I’m better.”

Your spine arches into him at the implication, but you try to keep a semblance of control and nonchalance through shaky breaths.

“I don’t know. Never had him.”

He brings your hands down, blood flowing to your extremities again, though his grip on them stays unflinching.

“After tonight you won’t want to.”

He doesn’t close the distance immediately. Neither do you. You take a second to absorb his words, gazing into his shiny brown eyes in the glow of the moonlight bathing the room.

Part of you understands that this isn’t just about biases and sexual tension anymore. The other part rebukes it, knowing this will never happen again. That it won’t lead to anything. That it can’t.

Your throat tightens at the thought but you push it away, locking your lips onto his instead. He can feel the desperation in your touch, reciprocating it instantly.

“Make sure I don’t forget then.” You plead.

His grip on your ass tightens as he pulls away from the wall, dropping you on the bed without letting go of your lips. It’s a mixture of clashing teeth and tangling tongues now, the fever of the moment having taken over.

He’s let go of your wrists at last, hands roaming over your figure, squeezing every part of you he can reach.

Your moans and whimpers intensify with every passing moment, wetness pooling between your legs just as quickly.

Suddenly, he pulls you to your knees, standing next to the bed as he slowly unties his joggers.

“You hungry baby?”

You nod frantically, walls clenching around air and saliva pooling in your mouth at the thought of taking his cock.

His heart is beating out of his chest as he lowers the grey sweats. He’s been dreaming about this - literally. He lost count of the amount of mornings where he woke up rock hard from dreaming of you and had to fuck his fist to relieve some of the ache - although it was never quite right.

They say don’t imagine your idols in these scenarios. Respectfully, you hadn’t - had tried your best not to. So seeing the outline of his length in his boxers, the small wet patch where precum was seeping through, felt surreal. Watching your fingers hook in his waistband and tug it down didn’t feel like you were doing it. It was like watching someone who looked like you do this to someone who looked like San.

Except that the heat radiating from his cock was all too real, the whimper escaping his mouth as you wrapped your hand around him all too needy.

You look up at him as you start moving your fist up and down slowly. He keeps his eyes on you, jaw slack, brows drawn together.

You’re so perfect, all he wants to do is fuck you until you’re nothing but a whimpering, blabbering mess on his bed. The sight of your shiny eyes, tits wet from his tongue and socks digging into the supple flesh of your thighs makes his cock twitch in your hand.

He grabs your chin gently, caressing your bottom lip, spreading your saliva on it until it’s glistening.

“Open.”

You’re so obedient, your mouth opening instantly - even sticking your tongue out for him. Slowly, he guides his cock to your lips, letting the warmth of your tongue linger on his tip.

“Sit on your hands.”

Again, you react immediately to his command, fingers wedging themselves between your thighs and calves until they’re trapped.

Only then does he start pushing in, inch by inch, allowing you to adjust to him, until your nose is pressed flush to his public bone.

He’s so big, your jaw is stretched almost painfully, gagging against him, but you don’t move. You hold his gaze as tears form in your eyes, focusing on breathing through your nose.

He pulls away a little, letting you breathe, before beginning to move his hips back and forth. It’s unfair to not be able to touch him once again, but you still do as he says.

He grabs the hem of his shirt, pulling it between his teeth so he can look at you without obstruction, and you moan at the sight of his perfect body. The vibrations make his hips stutter, but you take over, bobbing your head against his warm cock.

This must be what heaven feels like.

The mere thought of how good he feels in your mouth and just how incredible he would feel inside you has you short of breath. The world is spinning around you. All you know is you can’t stop sucking him.

He grabs the back of your head - not to push, just to guide you. Every point of contact feels electric - dizzying. There’s something so inevitable about the chemistry between you two. It all feels so natural and obvious, like he knows you inside out.

“Feels so good baby, ah just like that.”

His words are muffled by his shirt but it does nothing to dampen the way it makes your heart flutter with pride. Your fingers are tingling, begging to touch him, though you stay put as he asked.

Saliva is starting to pool at the corner of your lips, your eyes prickled with tears, but his face looks so beautiful like that, you never want to stop.

He’s getting more and more tense now, tiny whimpers passing his lips that grow louder with each one, and you can tell he’s getting close to the edge - so you start going a little faster, a little deeper, a little tighter. His hand is gripping your hair almost painfully now, pushing you to the hilt. Another few passes of your tongue on the underside of his shaft as your cheeks hollow, and then-

“Fuck argh gon’ - ah”

His cum shoots straight down your throat - thick, warm, salty ropes that you make sure to swallow, the movements of your throat coaxing more and more out of him, making his high last as long as possible.

The sounds he makes… holy shit they drive you insane.

He pulls out as soon as he stops twitching inside you, pulling his boxers up and instantly pushing you down on the bed for a hungry kiss. You haven’t quite caught your breath yet but you reciprocate it with just as much fervor.

His hands are everywhere, like they don’t know what to touch first, like he’s mapping you in his brain.

You graze your fingers under his shirt, feeling his soft abs, mumbling a muffled ‘oh my god’ at the realisation of just how perfect he is.

Your reaction makes him smile against your mouth, fingertips digging into your legs that have fallen spread on either side of him. He glides his fingers up your inner thigh, coming closer and closer to your burning core. Your instinct is to pull away, but his weight on you locks you firmly in place.

He pauses just above your center, letting you squirm beneath him.

Slowly… deliberately… he swipes his thumb along the edge of your panties.

A soft whimper escapes him as it slides across the wetness, and your stomach twists with the need he can already feel.

“You’re a desperate girl aren’t you?”

“Mmph your cock w’s just so good. Need you.”

“I can feel that.”

His thumb rubs over your burning centre a little harder, making you shudder and your breath quicken. His face is still right next to yours, pupils dilated as he takes in your expressions. You hold his gaze, but your face is all scrunched up with need and he can’t get enough.

He slides the fabric aside as he leans over to kiss your jaw, slowly pushing in a finger - you arch into him. Without hesitation, he starts waving his finger in an intoxicating pattern that somehow hits your sensitive spot instantly.

Your little pants and squeals as you bite your lip have his head spinning.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?”

He adds another finger, making you choke on air.

“Had me going fucking insane in that outfit. Dancing with that guy, letting him touch you… That was supposed to be me.” He squeezes your breast as he looks at your already fucked out face. “It is me.”

“You.” You agree mindlessly.

You dig your fingers in his arms to try and relieve some of the pressure already building at the base of your spine, not even clocking the size of the biceps you’re destroying - that are destroying you.

His thumb starts circling your clit and you cry loudly - probably too loud given your proximity to the other members. San doesn’t mind. He’s still too focused on what you said earlier, and he almost wants them to hear how good he makes you feel - at the very least Mingi. He always gets such a rep with fans for being a beast in bed. If only they knew he wasn’t the only one. But you’ll know. Soon enough.

Your moans pull him out of his competitive reverie and he smiles, adjusting his arm to hit even deeper inside you.

“Come on baby, think you can cum for me?”

“Y-yes yes please San yes.”

His cock twitches against the covers from your beautiful broken pleas. Your cheeks are flushed red now, a shiny sheen of sweat beginning to coat your skin, and all he wants to do is lick it - so he does. His tongue laps up at your tits, your neck, your jaw, until he finally reaches your mouth again.

He adds one more finger, and that’s when you finally unravel around him, practically screaming in his mouth from the force of your orgasm and the remaining effects of the alcohol loosening your inhibitions.

“That’s it, good girl.” He mumbles against your mouth as he works you through it. “You’re doing so good for me. Can you give me one more?”

You shake your head slightly, but your gummy walls pulsing around his fingers tell him otherwise.

“I think you’re being shy. She’s asking for more already…”

He leaves your mouth to lower himself between your legs despite your half hearted protests. A small whimper escapes him at the sight of your glistening folds - a sound that travels straight to your head.

His voice comes out raspy and ragged. “Need to taste you.”

Before you can say anything, his tongue has replaced his fingers that are now holding your thighs apart.

“Argh fuck S-San.”

You’re sliding into overwhelming territory but your hips rut against his face anyway.

It’s hard to describe how incredible it feels - because it’s hard to comprehend who’s doing this to you. You keep saying his name, yet somehow it’s still not registering that it’s him doing this. Even when you open your eyes, looking down between your legs to see his messy black hair, tanned skin and small, hazy brown eyes, you still don’t get it. And maybe that’s part of why it feels so incredible. It’s not just about what, it’s about who.

The odds were unfavourable, and yet here you are. Being eaten out and utterly ruined by Choi San.

The sounds coming from his mouth are filthy - he’s making no effort to be quiet as he drinks up your arousal, sucking on your bundle of nerves. Every now and then, he groans at your taste, and the vibrations have you whimpering.

It’s like a cat and mouse game.

He licks. You moan. He groans. You whimper.

Your fingers tangle in his soft hair, pushing him further into you and he can’t help but smile, hips bucking into the mattress a little to try and relieve some of the ache. How can he not when the woman he’s been fantasising about is grinding her pussy in his face?

“Need you to cum babygirl.” He grunts between licks.

The pet name has your legs shaking even harder, your orgasm coming closer and closer. His tongue plunges even deeper inside of you, nails digging crescent shaped indents in your thighs, and you explode in his mouth with loud cries. He’s drinking it all up, intoxicated by your body and taste as your juices flood his tongue.

“Mmh so good for me.”

His voice comes out primal as he looks up, licking his glistening lips.

“F-fuck San, holy sh-shit.”

Your body is still twitching as he sits up, taking in the sight of you as he gently rubs your thighs. His eyes catch the white fabric squeezing them, and mindlessly, he hooks a finger under the hem, pulling it away and letting it snap back, making you jolt.

“Were you trying to make me hard when you put those on?”

You swallow, throat dry.

“I didn’t know.”

He tilts his head, a crease between his brows. “Didn’t know what?”

You bite your lip, unsure how to word it. “I didn’t know you were watching. Didn’t know you liked me like that.”

He snickers as he lowers himself inches away from your mouth.

“I don’t usually waste my time texting someone I don’t give a fuck about, Princess.” He pecks your still panting lips. “I don’t have my manager go get someone at 2am from Hongdae because she’s drunk and wearing a mini skirt that shows off her perfect ass to everyone.” He slaps it, hard enough for the imprint of his hand to make an appearance in the morning. “I don’t ever break every rule in the idol rule book, especially for a girl I don’t like.”

His words take you by surprise, each one knocking what little air you have out of your lungs. They seep through your skin, into your bones, making their way into your veins and into your heart. Your heart that picks up with no warning at beautiful words that won’t mean anything by tomorrow despite how much you want them to.

You swallow through your dry throat, looking for the right words to express how you feel, despite the remnants of alcohol fogging your brain.

“You’re just saying things. You like me, but you can’t like me. Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

He scoffs. “It’s getting offensive how much you doubt me.”

“Prove it.”

The words come out of their own accord, defiant, looking for something to hold on to. You grab his face, fingertips weaving through his soft hair, his own grabbing your waist a little tighter. 

“I’m already in your bed. There’s no need to convince me to stay the night. So, prove you’re not just saying pretty words.”

He slowly buries his face in your neck, kissing your pulse.

“I thought I already was… but if I need to double down, I’m happy to oblige Princess.”

He sits up, grabbing his shirt by the collar and pulling it over his head in one swift, effortless motion. The sight makes you salivate as he stands still for a second, letting you admire him as he does the same to you. The tips of your fingers graze his soft waist, creating ripples and ridges in his tanned skin as you squeeze it, grabbing on to every inch you can.

He throws his head back, revelling in the way your touch makes him shiver, his cock begging for the kind of attention you’re giving to the rest of him.

His fingers skilfully unbutton your denim skirt, wiggling it off of you, before he does the same with your panties - though he takes his time with them. His eyes are wide and his pupils dilated as he takes in the sight of the fabric peeling off of your soaked skin. A little pride hits him - that was all his doing. Lastly, he wiggles your pretty black lace top from your waist, making it join the rest of your discarded clothes on the floor.

You feel shy, suddenly, fully exposed to him whilst he still has half of himself covered, and your hands tug at the hem of his waistband.

“You too.”

He smirks. “You don’t have any patience, pretty girl.”

You sit on your elbows, looking at him under your lashes, a sudden boost of confidence flowing through you.

“If you don’t feel up to the challenge just say it, I’ll go find Mingi - or Seonghwa.”

You have no idea where that came from - probably the tequila still sloshing through your brain - but whatever it is, the effect is immediate. The joggers are discarded within a half second before he’s right back on top of you, spreading your legs impossibly wide until his tip lays against your wet core and you whimper.

“You ready?”

You nod, completely desperate and on edge, and his small smirk makes you shiver.

“No you’re not, but it’s cute of you to think you are.”

He presses on your legs harder so you open to an almost painful point, making you wince. He stares at the way your cunt still flutters around air from the remnants of his fingers.

“Now breathe and relax.”

The stretch burns so good you cry out as you feel him fill you up to the hilt.

“Damn baby, you’re so tight - fuck - you need to let me in.”

“C-can’t.” You gasp, eyes screwed shut.

The air shifts around you and he stops. You open your eyes to see him leaning over you, his Chrome Hearts necklace dangling above your chest.

“Yes, you can.”

He nudges your nose up with his, his soft lips on yours in an instant. Then he starts pushing in again, and this time, his mouth distracts you enough that you finally let him in. Low whimpers echo in his mouth when he bottoms out, and you drink them up eagerly.

He starts moving his hips, slowly at first. The rasp of his veins and tip against your walls has you clawing at his perfect back, making him grunt even louder than he already was.

“Fuck you take me so well…”

Your cunt flutters at his words making him chuckle with pride.

“You like when I praise you?”

You nod eagerly, biting your lip to prevent another loud moan from getting out.

“You’re dirtier than I thought…”

You rake your nails over his shoulder, relishing in the way his face twists and he winces at the sting.

“You l-love it.”

His hips drive into you so hard your moans stutters, and then his mouth is on yours again.

Teeth clashing against teeth. Tongues tangling in a messy net. Hot breaths mingling into one. The wet slap of your sweaty skins fills the room, loud and obnoxious and completely disregarding the existence of anyone but you two.

The pressure is building in your stomach again, the coil tightening almost painfully, your cunt tightening around him.

“Cum for m-me princess. You can do it again. Need to feel you squeeze my c-cock.”

His thumb is on your clit, circling it with purpose and determination. Your legs are shaking around his waist, hands fisting the sheets and his hair. Your approving moans are getting louder and louder, encouraging him to keep going - until he feels your cunt tighten around him, your cries coming out raspy as he fucks you through it.

“That’s it baby. Such a g-good girl squeezing me like t-that.”

His eyes alternate between your face and the white ring slowly forming around his cock.

The motion of his hips is unrelenting - if anything he’s driving deeper, harder into you.

“T-too mu-uch S-San.” You babble, but he doesn’t care. Your mouth is saying one thing, your body is saying another.

A guttural scream escapes you as your legs are pushed into your chest without warning. He’s so deep into you now you almost feel him in your throat.

“So loud baby, gon’ make the guys jealous.” He grunts, sweat dripping down his forehead onto your boiling skin.

You don’t even have anything to reply, no thoughts left in your head as he pounds into your cervix without mercy. His thrusts are deep and calculated, making sure to leave his imprint inside of you for the next few days.

“You wanted to be ruined, no? Here I am princess.”

He grabs your calf with one hand, kissing it feverishly as he makes sure your legs don’t move with his other hand.

“Do you s-still think Mingi would’ve mmh made you cum like that?”

Your mind is so blank, you don’t even register what he’s saying, only able to babble.

“Hu-uh w-w-wh ngh”

You’re interrupted by the head of his cock hitting your cervix just right once again.

“Think the cat’s g-got your tongue real good now, huh?”

Without warning, he pulls out of you, flipping you onto your knees before plunging back in within the space of two seconds. The angle is even deeper now, if that was possible, your tears flowing freely into the pillow you’re burying your face into.

“Look at your ass - so perfect.” He squeezes it hard before slapping it. “Showing that to everyone.” His hand comes down again, making you cry out, before he soothes the red skin. “Made for me.”

He holds onto the plush skin tightly as he pistons into you, pulling your hips back to meet his, fascinated by the way your skin moves. One of his hands moves to grab your throat, pulling you up so your back meets his chest, lips devouring your shoulders and neck.

“Do you not see how crazy you make me?”

He sinks his teeth into your sweat drenched skin.

“Thinking he’s better - th-thinking I don’t care. Do y-ou get how wrong you are?”

“San…”

“What is it babygirl, what d’you want?”

“M-more. You.”

He smiles, throwing his head back momentarily.

“So greedy…”

He captures your mouth in a hungry, sloppy kiss, before pushing you back down on the bed, burying your face in the pillow. The strength of his thrusts is almost unbearable now. You’re practically screaming into the pillow as he grabs your wrists, pinning them behind your back so he can hold you as he destroys you.

Without warning, you cum again, the cry ripping through your throat. His hips start stuttering from how much you squeeze him, and he can’t take much more.

He pulls out of you just in time to paint your back with his cum, intoxicating moans and whimpers leaving his lips from the relief of his release.

As soon as his hands leave you, your hips fall to the bed, unable to support your weight on your shaking legs. He collapses next to you, panting heavily.

The silence stretches, comfortable, only filled with your breaths as you both try to calm down.

His fingers are grazing your arm mindlessly, soothing you as you continue to come down from the high. When he turns to look at you, your eyes are already on him, half closed, completely out of it, but they still find his.

“You okay princess?”

You nod, swallowing past the dryness in your throat. “I’m great. That… that was great.”

He grins, dimples contrasting with his toned body. “It really was.”

He sits up, crawling off the bed to reach the towel on his desk chair. The soft fabric on your back is oddly relaxing as he wipes himself off of you, making sure to be gentle and not leave anything behind.

Carefully, he wraps you in the towel, grabbing some clothes, before scooping you up and taking you to the bathroom. He helps you wash away all the sweat, cigarettes and alcohol, making sure to not scrub over your scraped elbow. He kisses your lips and skin once or twice - never too much, just enough to feel like your happy bubble is still strong.

Before you know, you’re back in his bed, freshly washed, clean clothes on, tucked into his chest, falling asleep. He listens to your quiet breaths, his thumb stroking your back, until sleep takes over him too.

The sunlight peeking through the curtains wakes you up, San’s small nose whistles grounding you about as much as his arms wrapped around you.

“So this actually did happen…” you whisper to yourself.

His eyes flutter open one at a time.

“Mornin’”

His low gravelly morning voice sends warmth through you, his hands tightening on you.

“Morning.”

You nuzzle deeper into him as you try to process the reality of things.

“How do you feel?”

“Sore.” You chuckle. “Good sore.”

“Mmh, damn right.”

“You?”

He smiles into the pillow.

“Like I had great sex last night.”

You smirk. “Damn right.”

He laughs, readjusting so his back lays flat on the bed.

“How many days do you have left here?”

You look down, saddened by the mention of your departure.

“Five. And a half if you count the morning of my flight, but I won’t be able to do much then…”

He kisses your forehead, tucking you closer into his chest.

“Okay, then that’s five and a half more days of you.” He smirks. “And there’s a lot you can do in one morning.”

You chuckle at the not-so-subtle innuendo.

“That is, if you want to.”

You lift your head up, brows furrowed as you look into his chocolate eyes.

“What do you mean ‘if’ I want to? San,” you start as you push a stray strand of hair from his forehead, “I would love to spend more time with you. Actually if we’re talking about wishes, I would love it if I didn’t have to leave in five days.”

“And a half.”

You giggle, nodding. “And a half. But yes, of course I want to spend more time with you.” You say, softer this time.

You can’t quite bring yourself to say it out loud, but if you were being honest with him, you would say that you want to spend all your time with him. But that’s not possible, of course. He has his job, his schedules. You have plans too. And… you have a life that’s not here.

He can sense your mood has shifted, feeling it inside himself too. He rolls on top of you, caging you into his arms as he peppers your skin with kisses.

“No sad. I don’t want you to be sad. I don’t have a schedule until lunch, so let’s go to breakfast. Then I’ll drop you off at your accommodation. And I’ll pick you up again tonight.”

You giggle when the tips of his hair tickle your skin as he makes his way over your body. He lifts his head up with a beaming smile, golden skin lit by the sunlight peaking through the curtains. How could you possibly say no to that face?

He stands up eagerly, grabbing some clothes from his closet to replace the mess of fabric you wore yesterday.

Your heart rate picks up again from seeing him so homely with you. His perfume lingers on the clothes, mixed with the smell of the laundry detergent, and you can’t help but sneak a whiff when he’s not looking.

You’re wearing San’s clothes. How odd… How odd that it doesn’t feel odd?

“Can’t forget this.” He says as he puts a black hat on your head, handing you a fresh black face mask to match. “Wouldn’t want anyone interrupting our date.”

Your heart stops. 

“Is that what this is?”

He puts his necklace on, looking at you with that endearing expression on his face.

“I think so.”

You bite your lip, blush creeping on your cheeks. “I think so too.”

He steps towards you, adjusting the hat again and strokes your cheek with his thumb softly.

“Okay, you can go ahead, I just need to use the bathroom. I’ll be at the front door in a minute.”

You peck him lightly, unable to help yourself, before turning around and leaving his room.

“Damn, he really banged you up well didn’t he?”

You jump as you close the bedroom door, whipping around in a rush. “Ex-excuse me?”

You blink at the tall deep voiced man as he points to the plaster on your elbow.

“Also you make a lot of noise for someone so small.” He winks.

Your cheeks are crimson, burning so hot all you wanna do is disappear.

“S-sorry. I…”

He shakes his head with a laugh. “Don’t be, it’s all good.”

San comes out of his bedroom right as Mingi steps towards the kitchen, grabbing your arm and rubbing it instinctively. He leans down right next to your ear, brushing the hair of your neck. His breath makes you shiver, and you automatically lean into his touch.

“So, who’s your bias now?”

---------

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𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅!𝖲𝖺𝗇 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾: 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍

𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: 𝖬𝖣𝖭𝖨, 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 (𝖿 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗌), 𝗆𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗌𝗆𝗌, 𝗎𝗇𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗏, 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖻𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗂𝖾.

𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌: 2.2𝗄

𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅, 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗎𝗇

𝖱𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 🤍

---------

“Y/n? Where are you Princess?”

San calls out for you as soon as he comes home, shoes barely off. He wanders around the apartment looking in every room, calling out your name like a cat searching for its human.

He gets to the bathroom and opens the door to a cloud of steam and the scent of almonds filling the air. You don’t seem to hear him, too focused on scrubbing your hair and humming along to your playlist.

He bites his lip for a moment, teetering between leaving you alone and joining you, the latter winning without much effort.

He shreds himself of his clothes, folding them neatly on the chair because he knows you don’t like it when he leaves them on the floor.

Slowly, he steps into the shower. You’re still unaware of his presence, eyes closed and head back as you rinse your hair. He takes the loofah, lathering it with soap, and starts rubbing it on your arm.

You jump in surprise, heartbeat suddenly rising at the intrusion. You rub your eyes clean from the water, finally able to see your smiling boyfriend in front of you, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“San you can’t come into the shower unannounced, you almost gave me a heart attack…”

He places a soft peck on your cheek and continues running the loofah up and down your arm. “I’m sorry Princess, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ve been calling your name since I came home, did you not hear?”

You shake your head, suddenly aware of the situation.

You run your eyes over his naked body, so toned and tanned, splashes from the shower decorating his skin with sprinkles of light. When you meet his gaze again, a slight shade of pink ornates his cheeks, but the way he looks at you only shows desire.

“Turn around.” He orders softly.

You do as you’re told, heart beating fast for an entirely different reason now.

He scrubs your arm again, gently but thoroughly, starting from your fingertips, all the way to your shoulder. When he’s circled each area a few times, he places a light kiss on your skin, your hairs rising at the touch.

He continues to lather you, the exfoliation quickly followed by his soothing lips. You close your eyes, head falling slightly, humming at every brush of his lips.

He reaches your other hand, placing a kiss on each fingertip before lacing his fingers in yours with his free hand. Your teeth graze your bottom lip at the feel of his undivided attention.

His hand doesn’t leave yours as he continues to clean you, making his way down your back slowly - almost too slow, but you don’t rush him. You let him take his time, enjoying every second..

You can feel his breath clinging to the water on your back between every kiss. You moan quietly - his breath hitching, almost drowned out by the sound of running water.

The circles on your back are getting lower and lower, your muscles tightening in a sharp, helpless reaction, nerves flaring at the ghost of his touch.

When he gets low enough, he tugs at the hand he’s still holding, prompting you to face him again. You look down at him, chest rising in shallow breaths, as he looks into your eyes - quiet domination written in his.

You shiver from pleasure. Nothing has happened, but the intimacy of this moment burns hotter than the steam around you.

He continues to rub the sponge on you, never breaking eye contact as he peppers your stomach with featherlight kisses, slowly making his way up your body.

Your head falls back involuntarily but his hand tugs at your still intertwined fingers - a silent demand to look at him.

His bottom lip lingers on your skin for a moment as he takes you in. Your skin is flushed - from his touch, or perhaps from the scalding water, maybe both -, your eyes slightly hooded from pleasure, the droplets running down your face, caressing your skin in a thousand places at once.

He carefully rises to his feet, brushing his lips between your breasts, slowly making his way up your neck, meeting your mouth at last.

His kiss isn’t rushed, it’s deliberate. His soapy hand cups your chin as his nose nudges up for you to let him in, which you do in an instant.

The water mixes in with his warm lips as he kisses you like he has all the time in the world, tongue tracing yours in a quiet promise. An approving breath echoes in your mouth - not yours, but his. He holds you like you’re the most precious thing he owns, and you can’t help but melt into him.

Your hardened nipples press against his chest and you whimper as he moans, pressing his forehead against yours.

You press your lips against his once more, more urgent this time, and he reciprocates momentarily before pulling back, removing the wet hair from your face.

“I haven’t cleaned your legs.”

You watch as he kneels down, grabbing your right foot, and starting the cleaning process again. Your eyes are glued to his every move. His proximity to your exposed core makes your head spin, but your body is frozen in a state of awe. He slowly makes his way up your leg to your thigh.

You shiver as the sponge brushes against your sensitive clit, but he places your foot down before you can do anything, grabbing your other foot and repeating his movements.

This time, though, when he gets close enough, he doesn’t put your foot down. Instead, he hooks it above his shoulder, taking in the view of your glistening folds.

The water isn’t the only reason you’re dripping.

He watches you for a moment with starved eyes and you feel on the edge, desperate to know what he’ll do next.

He inhales slowly, as if to ground himself. You close your eyes, expectantly, and jolt at the unfamiliar sensation that suddenly grazes your clit.

You look down to see him washing you there, slower than he did for the rest of your body. His eyes keep shifting between your face and your core, as if torn between admiring your body and burning the look on your face in his brain forever.

The pleats and creases in the sponge mixed with the foam make for a feeling you’ve never experienced before. It’s like you’re being overstimulated, and yet the pressure is so slight it’s almost not there.

He presses a little harder and your hand slams on the shower wall, craving something to hold on to. His breathing is ragged from restraint - it’s taking everything in him to not touch you himself.

He continues his languid movements, drawing more and more whimpers out of you. Heat is already starting to gather in the pit of your stomach and you feel dizzy.

Your nails claw at the tile, eyelids fluttering, and without realising it, his name falls from your lips in a needy whisper.

He stills for a second. “Princess?”

“San…” You repeat more desperately, no other words coming to you.

Something in him switches - that quiet plea breaks all the restraints he was holding on to.

His voice drops. “Just keep saying my name Princess.”

You look down at him and the sight alone could make you cum - his hair is drenched, sticking to his forehead, his eyes heavy hooded and dark with need, his skin flushed but so ethereal in the shine of the water. The way he’s looking at you - desperate, eyebrows pulled together from the effort -, makes butterflies erupt in your chest.

At long last his mouth meets your tender clit, starved. Your cry explodes out of you at the familiar feeling and you instinctively grab his hair, inciting a groan from him. Your back slams against the wall, overwhelmed in the best possible way.

One hand on your leg, the other on your waist, kneading your skin, he devours you - his tongue creating all kinds of delicious patterns on your skin. You keep whimpering his name. In this moment, there’s nothing in the world but you and him. His touch is all encompassing and he’s all you can think of.

Your hips roll ever so slightly into him as you moan his name over and over.

His hard on is getting more difficult to ignore with every pass of his tongue, the rush of blood becoming painful. But he’s not done with you yet. You taste so good, so sweet, and so his.

He runs his fingertips against your wet folds, coating them, before carefully inserting a finger into you. A strangled breath stays stuck in your throat. His rhythm is calculated and precise, making sure to curl at the perfect angle - the one that makes your back arch and your head fall back.

His view is perfect to watch the way you respond to the feel of his finger and tongue, your hand in his hair bringing him closer to that taunting edge - the one that would force him to bury himself inside you.

Your body isn’t your own anymore, it’s his. It responds to his touch the way he knows it will, the way he expects. The roll of your hips is getting messier as the tension builds inside you, your knees faltering under the weight of his control - even his name is barely coherent as your brain fogs.

He can see and feel you getting closer as he inserts another finger and you cry out, his own moans growing desperate from looking at you.

You whine when he removes his tongue from your clit to watch you, but with his attention fully focused on his fingers, that loss quickly disappears from your mind. The way he hits that spot every time, whilst his eyes bore into you with so much intensity and admiration, finally undoes you.

Your entire body convulses as he continues to drive his fingers into your clenching walls, kissing the inside of your thigh on that thin sensitive skin. Your vision becomes blurry from the energy being drained out of you, and when you’re done, you collapse against the wall, your foot slipping off his shoulder as he holds you up. Your hand in his hair loosens and he grabs it, placing a kiss on your wrist as he stands.

“You look incredible Princess.”

You scoff, hazy, your senses slowly creeping back in. When you finally look at him, the bathroom light behind him glows like a halo, and you instinctively weave your arms around his shoulders to kiss him. That kiss doesn’t just say you love him, it says thank you for taking care of me.

And he knows it.

His hands wrap around your waist to pull you close, and you can feel the erection you didn’t even realise he still had. The brush of your skin against his sensitive tip incites a whimper from him.

His kiss grows hungrier, one hand finding your cheek as his other lifts you up slightly to place you on his length, and he slides in, slowly. Every inch he buries into you extracts a moan from him, your tightness proving just how sensitive and needy he is.

You’re standing on your tiptoes, unable to do much, but you don’t need to. His hips roll into you in a way you’ve never felt him do, and your head falls back. He takes this opportunity to kiss your neck, lifting you up higher so you wrap your legs around his waist. The angle is heavenly, your breath stuttering.

He doesn’t change his rhythm, continuing to sway to the riveting beat of the music you forgot was playing. His need for you is obvious, every touch a special detail - every rock of his hips, every kiss on your neck, every tightening grip of his fingertips on your waist.

His moans and whimpers are getting louder as he approaches his release, blurring with your gasps.

Gosh, you love hearing these breathless, desperate sounds coming from him - it breaks you every time. The heat builds in your core again, almost painful. You grab his neck, pulling him to you to swallow his wanting breaths, feeling them reverberating inside of you.

His hips drive into you with more intensity, chasing release, and you cry out as he groans your name over and over again, like he’s begging you to give him everything he needs and wants.

The rush comes without warning, shattering inside both of you. Your head falls against the wall again as your body goes limp from the pure bliss of that feeling as he rides it out inside of you.

When he’s done, he rests his forehead against your chest, trying to catch his breath. You run your hand in his hair, soothing, like you’re rewarding him for a job well done.

When he looks up at you, eyes sparkling, a grin tugs at his lips, and you know he’s utterly yours.

---------

Like what you read and want your own story? Check out my pinned post for a link to my commissions form!

[imminentdreamermuse]

[maho6any]

pillow princess

arrmmmmsss.... armmssas,d, asrmmsss,,

bf!san x f!reader

content: headlock, mirror play, recording, pronebone

wc: 2k

thinking about san...

you kind of wished he had never found out about it. not really, but now it certainly seems he likes to use it as leverage against you.

your boyfriend was gentle in all the ways that count. soft touches that made you feel like precious art. sweet words of encouragement that made you feel seen. but sometimes you feel like he might be too gentle with you.

the only times he ever let that soft-handed mask down were when he was fucking you.

and the first time he ever found out about your little infatuation, he seemed to have grown a little more comfortable with roughing it up a little.

“oh god… oh baby. fuck, you feel so good.” on your stomach, face pressed into the sheets, san’s face nudged in the tight space where your neck meets your shoulder. his arms caged either side of your head, resting his forearms next to your ears.

his chest was glued to your back, your spine digging into his stomach. bare and hot and wet, your bodies pressed against each other without an inch of space to speak for. your entire body shivered when he forced himself deeper into you, his curved, thick cock splitting your cunt open.

this position had him so deep, so invasive, so full. his hips rolled against the flesh of your ass, san’s voice dipping low in needy moans when you squeezed around him while he pulled his hips back, listening to the slick sound your pussy made, trying to keep him inside.

“pussy’s so warm today, baby.” he lets his mouth fall open against the shell of your ear, panting and groaning to make your brain melt. “making me feel so fucking crazy, you make me feel crazy, pretty.”

you forced your head out of the pillow when you felt his thrusts slow to a deep grind, pulling a ragged whine from your mouth. you pried your eyes open to watch as his arms moved around your head.

“turn, look at us.” he kisses below your ear, and drags his tongue up the side of your cheek. his right arm reaches and grabs his phone from the corner of the bed, holding it tight in his hand and scrolling and pressing buttons.

you forget he keeps a tall mirror against his bedroom wall, right next to the end of his bed. you can see the top halves of your melded bodies. his big, broad shoulders shadow your littler form under him. his soft, flushed face meeting your eyes in the reflection, his big, meaty arms flexing and twitching around your head every time he moved.

you watch to try and see what he was doing, and he punishes your nosiness with a sharp, deep thrust that makes your calf lock up.

“mind your business, babydoll.” he grumbles, then you feel it. his left arm curls around the front of your throat, tight. the muscles twitch and contract over your neck, just enough to limit your breathing. snug, warm and secure around the front of your throat.

he feels you tighten around his cock, and it makes his skin prickle. “ooh, fuck…” he groans and you feel his voice vibrate against your back. you forced your eyes up and you can see his phone recording your reflection in the mirror. catching the fucked out look on your face, his thick arm wrapped around your throat in an owning headlock.

his mouth spreads into a sly grin when your eyes roll when he pulls back his hips and then sinks his cock back into you so slowly, so smoothly, your legs jerk under him to try and escape the feeling.

“my soft little slut…” san leans down to whisper in your ear, the flash of his camera moving with each thrust. he licks the tears that pool at the corner of your eyes before he drags his head back up to watch you both in the mirror.

“look at you go, baby.” he praises around a heated smile. “drooling all over my arm like some kind of puppy. does that feel good? hm?”

you whimper out an incoherent agreement, and he giggles softly, littering the nape of your neck with soft kisses. he adjusts his hips to drag against that deeper, sweeter spot, that makes you still and lightly sink your teeth into his arm.

he keeps that meaner pace, deep heavy strokes in your guts that you can do nothing but lie under his body and take. his arm around your neck made clouds swim around in your brain. he tightens the hold, and you squeal loudly, barely catching the way he zooms in with his phone to better catch the pretty look on your face.

your cheeks squished by his muscles, your eyes desperate and heavy-lidded. he thought you looked so cute, and who would’ve thought that all he had to do to get you this needy was to put you in a headlock.

san fucks you greedily, the curve of him perfectly hitting that spot that turned your mind off. his voice egged you on, his low moans, and his pretty heavy breaths. groaning ’mhms’ of approval with every thrust into you as if he was grading the feel of your cunt around him. with every stroke, you only seemed to get even wetter, and the proof was the sticky web of your slick that clung to his base.

“mm, i love fucking my baby, slow… and stupid.” he attaches his lips to the pulse point on your neck, sucking and running his tongue over the sensitive spot of skin. “jus wanna fuck you so deep it hurts.”

he’s in your ear, talking to you and only you. all the while his phone catches every moment, every thrust and every moan.

his lower stomach repeatedly brushes against your back, his cock stirring up your insides at the most, torturous and delicate pace. the slow smack of flesh, the sticky hollow sound of your cunt swallowing all of him.

you feel his knees brace against either side of your hips again, adjusting his posture a little. his arm around your throat tightens to your near limit, his head nudges against your neck, his lips whispering against your cheek.

this way he uses your neck as leverage to anchor is body to allow him to fuck his cock into you a little faster, a little rougher.

“yeah, baby, yeah. take all of me. all of me.” san’s voice drops into a breathy purr, pressing his lips directly against your ear, the soft skin tickling you. “givin this pussy a workout hm?”

you groan and kick your feet, and he laughs at you as hand from the arm he’s got your neck trapped in buries itself in your tangled hair and yanks your head to the side so you’re fully facing the mirror, your ear resting below his jaw.

“you like to be lazy. you like to lie here— fuck… lie here and take dick, helpless and limp. let sannie do all the work huh, princess? let this pussy do all the work for you?”

he turns his head and your eyes catch in the mirror. his eyes are lidded, competent and heated. yours are foggy, tear-glazed, spent. he smiles at your expression and growls under his breath when you clench around his dick again.

his fingers scrape against your scalp with every heavy stroke of his hips, his pretty grunts and moans making your belly twist into swirls.

your hands grasp at the sheets, your cries coming out choked and breathy then more san fucked you, and he seemingly forgot that you needed to breathe until you tapped on his bicep to tell him to let up.

he does immediately, loosening the hold on your throat. you gasp and choke, but he doesn’t stop moving his hips, fucking you slow and deep while you regain your breath.

“aww, ‘m sorry babydoll.” he kisses your temple and you could feel him giggle against your skin. his voice lowers to that brain ticking whisper and you feel your air stolen from you again.

“bet you would’ve looked so pretty passed out on my cock.” he finally sets down his phone and takes his now free hand and trails it down your body, running along the side of your waist, his hips never stopping that deep, languid push and pull.

“looking all soft and sleepy.” his hand snakes between your body and the bed and finds your clit with his coarse fingertips. you gasp and squirm under him, your body shaking as a plea for mercy. san only laughs, circling upwards against the sensitive nerves while he splits your pussy open, over and over and over again.

“think i could still make you cum in your sleep princess?” he whispers against your throat and you feel as his arm tightens its hold around your throat once again. you feel the bed start to shake and your cunt start to burn with pleasure as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, filling you long and deep at just the right angle.

“mmhm, soak my cock baby.” he growls under a moan, letting his tongue fall from his mouth and tasting the flushed skin on your throat. “make it smell like you.”

he bites his bottom lip and his eyebrows furrow, his cock pounding into you so full he just might had been close to fucking your cervix.

his fingers on your clit continue to move at that dragging, spherical pattern that helps that pressure build slowly. stroke my stroke, praise by praise. you melt under his body while he uses you as he sees fit. your pussy sucks him in everytime he draws back, your pretty little moans make san’s head spin.

“gonna fuck myself to that video everynight while im on tour.” he promises against your skin, your orgasm dangerously close to sweeping you onto the floor. he rolls his hips with every thrust, forcing his fat tip to press against your gspot.

“eee..every n-night..?” you whimper deliriously, his cock effectively having cut off all cognitive function, a stupid smile spread across your face.

he laughs and kisses your shoulder as he rolls his hips a little harder. “mhm, every night baby. i'll send you some videos so this pussy-” he thrusts hard this time, as if acknowledging her himself. “-doesn't miss me too much. want you to remember how good i make you feel while i'm gone.”

you shake violently when his tip nudges that spot just right, and right at that moment you cum on the spot. your limbs jerk and twitch and once san’s felt you cumming he eases his hips into a faster rut, pounding your pussy through your orgasm, fucking you through it.

“there we go, there we go. let it take you baby, keep cumming, keep cumming for me.” he pinches your clit and teases it with gentle brushes while he mounts you on his mattress.

his arm is covered in your drool, the red indentations of your bite marks inflamed on his skin. san looks back at you in the mirror, and you’re too out of it to notice as he pulls out his phone again and starts to record the reflection.

your eyes are shut and your brows are furrowed in bliss, lips parted in pathetic whines, your cheek resting against his bicep. he keeps his eyes on the mirror as your face twists in overstimulation when he starts to grind his cock deep into you.

his muscles flex, and he can feel the strain in his wrist from continually holding the camera up to capture you two. your shoulder twitches every time he bottoms out into your pussy, and your eyelids flutter every time he presses his palm against your lower stomach. he catches every change in expression, every twitch of your body, every lilt in your moans.

he always misses you so bad when hes away, so he always makes sure he fucks you so unbelievably well that you could probably do without him for at least a few days.

until you’re sore, or your stomach burns, or you physically can’t cum anymore. and he’ll be so methodic, so thorough, so gentle. anything to get you satiated for the first few days in his absence.

he's gotta work you out of his system somehow anyway, or else he'll be a horny, delirious wreck on tour.

the videos help with his withdrawal symptoms.

[mingiwonkaa]

carry you home

model San (au)

cw: MDNI, soft!san, praise, missionary, soft smut, fingering, light bruising, yearning, some mention of finger sucking, strangers to lovers.

word count: 2.8k

AN: some light fluffy San smut, nothing too wild. as always, none of it is real, all fiction. not affiliated with ateez irl

--

Sunlight filtered in through the cafe windows, bathing the pastry counter in a golden hue. Chimes of a bell rang out through the early morning chatter, marring with the sound of the espresso machine working overtime. Wisps of steam danced through the air, accompanied with the different flavours of syrups that gently invaded the senses. Busying yourself with a cappuncio that you were making, unaware of the customer waiting patiently at the counter.

A year ago you were in a dead end job tucked away from the adventures of the world. Fuelled by nothing but late nights and loathing for the world around you. But now? You were thriving in the hum of the Italian life. Taking that jump and moving away from the weighted mass that had been holding you down. Finding this specific coffee shop had been a complete accident, one you were extremely thankful for.

Light clearing of someone's throat broke you out of your daydreaming, causing you to wipe your hands on the floral apron around your waist. Turning to one of the many customers of the morning, you painted a bright smile along your lips. Most of the people that walked into this coffee shop were regulars, exception to the odd tourist. So, when you were greeted by someone you had never laid eyes on before, you were instantly intrigued. Not only that, but he was outright fucking beautiful. Keeping your composure, smile bright as you breathed out a hello.

"What can I help you with, sir?"

Dimples emerged on either cheek, a smile that was nothing but polite. Eyes scanning the menu board above your head as he hooked his sunglasses onto his shirt. Then, he glanced back at you, leaning in slightly.

"What do you recommend?"

Voice smooth, Korean and English mixing together. Once again, you ran your hands over the apron, this time out of nerves more than anything else. A smile forms on your lips at the question directed to you, plucking a menu from the side of the counter. You always loved when people asked what you recommended, especially since now you knew these drinks like the back of your hand. Placing the laminated menu on the marble surface in front of him, using the pen tucked behind your ear to point out the different types of coffees.

"If you want something short and sharp, you've got your classic espresso- but if you're looking for a drink with a little more flavour to it, my personal favourite is a marocchino."

Reeling off what the maroccchino contained, unaware that this complete stranger was staring at you with the same cheek dimpled smile he'd been wearing the moment you turned to face him.

"I'll take one of those, please."

Nodding at his choice, you put the menu back in its holder before locking in and making his coffee. Bell chimed over the door as someone else entered the cafe, light chatter still filling the air. As he paid for the coffee, he gave you another soft smile before exiting back into the warm Milan morning. After a moment, you glanced down at the cash left on the counter- eyebrows drawing together you noticed he'd overpaid. Like a lot. Before you couldn't even begin to wonder why, as Leyla, your co-worker hooked her fingers around your elbow and tugged you into the kitchen.

"How were you so calm talking to him?!"

Confusion highlighted your expression, completely caught off guard as to what she was talking about. Eyes widened as she took in the lost look that was painted all of your face.

"You really have no idea who that was? Oh my-"

Shaking her head, she quickly pulled out her phone from the back pocket of her jeans. Tapping away at the screen, thrusting her phone into your vision. Squinting your eyes as your read the article on the screen, expression morphing into complete shock.

"Choi fucking San. You served Choi San. Dolce & Gabbana's number one model and ambassador!"

Babbling away with excitement, she informed you he was here for Milan Fashion Week, an event that was happening not too far from here. Which, Leyla was convinced it meant San would be visiting this coffee shop for the duration of his time here.

The rest of the day you were subjected to Leyla's animated yapping about San. Showing you everything from his Instagram posts, to articles about him, his modelling photos- she ensured you knew everything about this man. Well, everything he allowed the public to see.

--

Soaking in the golden sunshine that was beating down on you, adjusting your sunglasses as you walked along the canal. It had been two days since you'd briefly met San. Since then he hadn't visited the cafe, part of you was a little disappointed, but then again you reminded yourself it was ridiculous to be sad. You barely knew the man.

Lost in thought, eyes admiring the scenery around you, as if it wasn't something you saw day in and day out. Water glittering in the Italian beauty, tourists snapping photos as they brushed past you. That's when you saw him. Tucked behind a gelato stand, baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. Pressing your lips into a line, attempting to stop the laugh that wanted to escape you. Looking around, making sure no-one was taking any notice, you made a move. Pursuing the gelato cart, you said loud enough for only him to hear-

"No offense, but this is a very cliche way of hiding from your adoring fans, Mr Dolce & Gabanna."

San's head snapped up, peak of his cap no longer hiding his bright eyes.

"I didn't know who you were when you came into the cafe, my coworker excitedly informed me afterwards."

Assuring him before he could assume you were some kind of stalker. Still pretending to check out the different flavours of gelato, you continued to talk.

"Shouldn't you have security or something?"

"I wanted to have a day where I was just San."

Those words hit you a lot harder than you could have ever expected. Lifting your eyes to meet his, a sadness deep inside of them as he gave you a small smile.

Suddenly, behind you a cluster of shrieking erupted, halting the steady foot traffic that was trailing along the canal. San flinched at the noise ripping through the peaceful summer air. Hand interlocked with yours, a firm grasp; and then you were running.

Dodging bystanders, dog walkers, tourists, couples. Weaving in and out of people as you ran from the hoard of squealing girls. Laugher tore from you, carefree and ridiculous as San's cap flew from his head with the speed you were both reaching. Mirroring your laughter, eyes crinkling with genuine joy that was etching into his face. Eventually, San tugged you down an alleyway and into a street full of quaint restaurants and stores.

Minutes passed by and it seemed you had escaped the gaggle of fangirls. San let out a sigh of relief, running his fingers through his disheveled hair. Catching your breath, trying to process the madness that you had just been swept up in.

"Not how I thought I'd be spending my morning."

Another laugh slipped out of you, hand on your chest as your breathing started to reach it's normal pace.

"I'm sorry- I just wanted to get out of there-"

Awkwardness dawned over San as he started to regret his sudden actions, feeling sheepish for whisking you away. Scratching the back of his neck, while avoiding eye contact, he apologised again. But, you shook your read, stopping his shy tangent.

"It was fun, something to keep me on my toes."

Shrugging as you gave him a genuine smile. Visibly you saw him relax, arm dropping from his neck as he reciprocated your smile.

"In that case, you're welcome. But, let me repay you for the moment of madness."

Once again, he clasped your hand and guided you into one of the restaurants. No time was given for you to protest and before you knew it, you were both seated in a dimly lit booth, candle flickering on the table between you both.

--

Silence lingered for half a heartbeat; nothing but charged electricity vibrating through the air. Then, it exploded. No hesitation present as you both moved against each other. Entire time you'd spent with San, each moment had been filled with nothing but growing chemistry. Conversation flowed so effortlessly over dinner, learning about him, finding out how he truly felt about his career. For the first time in a long time, you'd delved into your past, how you needed the change from your old life.

One kiss later and you were in his hotel room, neither one of you able to hold back for much longer. Tasting the wine that was still lingering on his lips, San's fingers gently tugged at the bottom of your shirt, silent plea for you to take it off. Breaking the kiss momentarily, shrugging out of the material, slight blush tinting your cheeks as you stood before him, exposed. Eyes alight with glowing desire, fingers skating along your skin as he unclasped your bra with a simple flick.

Hands immediately cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing along your nipples with the lightest touch. Gasp escaped between your parting lips, the sensation driving out any doubt that had been laying in your mind. Lips caught yours again, working against your mouth as San's fingers trailed from your nipples, down the length of your stomach before reaching the waistband of your jeans.

Everything about his movements were gentle, as if he was savouring each and every moment. And then, he sank to his knees before you, looking up with an expression that made every fibre of your being ignite in a wild rush of flames. Sliding your jeans down effortlessly, tossing them to the side once you had stepped out of them, San skimmed the palm of his hands along your bare thighs.

"From the second I walked into that coffee shop, I couldn't get you off my mind."

Words laced in velvet and silk drifted from him as he bent his head forward and pressed delicate kisses along the inner of your thighs. Closing your eyes, soaking yourself in the way San was making you feel. Mouth reaching the outline of your underwear, causing you to swallow hard as your eyes fluttered down to look at him. Kisses along the material, feeling the way you were soaking through to his lips, unleashed a noise from San that vibrated through your core.

Lifting his head slightly, catching your gaze as he did so. A look that was genuine and full of nothing but admiration sent you into a spiral of aching for him. Clawing at his clothes, pulling him back up to his feet, you eagerly crushed your lips against his again. A kiss that was full of want, need and unbridled lust. Unable to keep your emotions under control anymore, urging San to remove his own clothes as well.

"You're so beautiful, you know that?"

Shivers erupted all over your body as the words ghosted you ear. Hands splayed along your waist as he guided you to the bed. By now you'd both hit the peak of desire, needing to be as close to each other as you possibly could. Laying you down on the bed, San didn't hesitate to remove your underwear, having you laid out before him, sprawled out in a breathtaking display. Hovering above you, smile so sweet painted along his lips as he kissed you. Necklace he was wearing lightly grazed your collarbone as San deepened the kiss, hands intertwining with yours above your head.

Soft pants shuddered through him as he broke the kiss, fingers squeezing yours. Dipping his head down, sucking at your neck, tongue gliding over your skin. Bodies flush against each other, feeling his strained cock against your upper thigh; ultimate tease. Allowing his hand to untangle from yours, mapping the entirety of your body before smoothing over the wetness that was pooling between your legs. Tracing his finger along your clit, eliciting a unintelligible moan from you.

"Fuck, you even moan pretty."

Hushed groan reverberated from him, inching his fingers inside of you, feeling the way you squirmed against his touch.

"Relax, jagiya. I've got you."

Encouragement poured out of him as he worked his fingers against you, knuckles skimming your clit as he pumped in and out. Other hand still entwined with yours, feeling your fingers digging into him. San watched you with lust and desire sparkling in his eyes, admiration etched into the contours of his face. All he wanted to do was please you, to be the reason you couldn't hold on any longer.

"So wet, princess."

Instinctively, you rolled your hips against his fingers as the praise that tumbled from his lips. Blush creeping along your cheeks, highlighting the obvious way your body responded to anything he did. Continuing his ministrations, he lowered his lips to your thighs, kissing and nipping along the tender skin. Leaving small but defined marks along the flesh, a reminder for when you were no longer together.

"San-"

Barely coherent as you whined his name, half lidded eyes finding his gaze. Dimples showing as he bathed in the way you moaned. Carefully withdrawing his fingers from you, sucking both clean, tasting the pure need you had for him. Once again, San positioned himself above you, this time both hands how on your body, securing you as he guided his cock to your aching entrance. Clit swollen and throbbing, your hands gripping his biceps as you waited for the welcome pleasure to rip through you. Nudging himself against you, feeling the way you adjusted to him was a sensation he would never forget. Curses of Korean slid out of his mouth, hands gripping your hips as he buried himself inside of you, fingers digging into your pelvis, but never hard enough to hurt you.

"Fuck, that's it- oh, you feel so good-"

Head falling backwards, San grasped your hips as he fucked you at pace that was overwhelming yet full of contentment. It was like nothing you'd felt before, no-one had ever come close. Bringing his head forward again, the muted glow of the hotel room accuentating every mesmerising detail about him. Honey skin that was flawless, dimples that took your breath away, dark strands of hair falling across his eyes; eyes that were solely focused on you.

Each thrust resonated within your soul, shaking your bones with undilated lust as he once again clasped your hands. Forehead brushing yours as San held your gaze, lips clashing in a passionate rush of heat. For every tongue brush against yours, indicted another thrust. Tangled together, bodies sweaty and warm, moans and whimpers mixing in the air. Lost in the way San moulded to you, both of you caught in open mouthed kisses and chemistry that burned brighter than anything you'd ever known.

"San- I can't-"

Overstimulation from San's mouth moving against yours, his cock buried to the hilt inside of you; you were hanging on by a thread.

"Just a little more, jagiya. You can do it."

Praise from San was driving you into a frenzy state, heart pounding in your chest as you clung onto him. One last whimper from you was all he needed to release himself, fingers curling so hard around yours as he filled you. Eyes closed, forehead still resting against yours as his warm breath fanned your face. Both of your moans bounced around the hotel room, caressing the steamed up windows and hanging in the lust filled air.

"Mm, you are something special."

Quiet hum of adoration rippled from San as he sighed, placing a small kiss on your forehead before gently withdrawing himself from you. Comfortable quiet settled around you both, chest heaving as you regained your normal breathing. Body trembling with bliss, skin warm and covered in small but memorable marks. Laying next to you, San propped himself up onto his elbow, drinking in the thoroughly fucked sight of you.

"Meeting you has made me feel alive again."

Emotional weight bulldozed into your heart at the confession from the man beside you. Reaching out a shaky hand, brushing back his damp hair, you smiled lazily.

"I could say the same about about you."

San captured your hand, lips caressing each fingertip before lightly pressing a kiss on the inner of your wrist.

"Stay the night."

Wasn't a question. Smiling at him, you nodded. Truth was, you didn't want to leave. You wanted to stay with him. Another kiss pressed to the side of your head, as San reluctantly hauled himself out of the bed. Immediately padding into the en-suite and running a warm bath, adding as much bubble lotion he could find before scooping you up and submerging you into the welcoming water.

"Take your time and I'll order food, jagiya."

[belongjoong]

HIDDEN PLEASURES --౨ৎ-- OT8 ATEEZ

「summary」 : a set of drabbles displaying each ateez member's biggest kink

「word count」 : 2.8k total (300-450 words per member)

「warnings」 : smut, established relationship, kissing, unprotected sex, clit stimulation, multiple orgasms, oral (m and f), fingering, titty sucking, body worship(?), car sex, manhandling, face fucking, spanking, pet names including : baby, pretty girl, doll, darling, slut, whore, good girl, love, babygirl. (each member has a clear warning at the beginning of their section, i just don't wanna ruin the surprise :P)

「author's note」 : happy valentines day guys! i have been working on this for a while so I hope you like it<3 feedback is appreciated! cover by @kisssan :P

hongjoong - overstimulation

he LOVES overstimulation, but more specifically, he loves overstimulating you. hearing you plead with him, telling him it’s too much, only makes him want to go further. and when you finally break, he turns into the biggest sweetheart.

you are lying down on your back as your boyfriend fucks into your cunt relentlessly. his thumb massages over your clit in circles, making you whine his name. this is your 4th? 5th? 6th? orgasm, you can’t even remember at this point. the only thing you could think about is your body convulsing in pleasure underneath his touch.

your legs shake as they are wrapped around his waist, allowing him deeper access. “fuck, baby, your pussy feels so good,” he groans, speeding up both the pace of his hips and his thumb. broken gasps escape your throat, accentuating your fucked-out expression. you don’t know how much longer you can keep up.

“c’mon baby, you can give me another one,” he pushes while purposely grinding deeper. “cum on my cock, pretty girl.”

he would stop at nothing if it meant forcing an orgasm out of you. and when you finally felt another crashing over, all you could do was cry out in pleasure, digging your nails into his wrists in the process. “fuuuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimper, tightening your grip on him.

he spills inside of you while leaning closer to kiss you and muffle your loud noises. his forehead rests against yours and he leaves another kiss on your lips. his thrusts fade slowly into a stop. the mix of your release and his cum made an exaggerated sound as he pulls all the way out of you.

“i don’t know how much more i can take,” you explain with a shaky voice, still coming down from your high.

“i know, doll. i know,” he fakely empathized, as he began to line himself up at your entrance again.

seonghwa - hair pulling

whether you are sucking his dick or he’s giving you back shots, he always finds a way to pull your hair. he also enjoys when you grip his hair during missionary or when he is eating you out. someone’s hair has to be tugged on at all times.

his head is nestled between your thighs, his tongue working its way across your clit with unbelievable precision. his arms are wrapped around each of your legs as they rest on his shoulders to keep you from squirming.

his nose brushes across your bud deliciously each time he drags his tongue up from your entrance. his black strands of hair are trapped in sections between your fingertips, gripping tighter with each movement.

“h-hwa, i’m close,” you whine out, mindlessly gripping his hair harder. he hums in satisfaction as his nails start to dig crescent shapes into your thighs.

he looks up at you with his boba eyes and a pussy drunk type look on his face. “you taste so good baby, hold on just a little longer,” he dives back into your heat.

your head lolls back as you try to hold in your orgasm for as long as possible. but the way his tongue worked your clit, and his fingers brushed your spongy spot with each thrust only pushed you closer to the edge. it was becoming harder and harder to stay still, to the point where he had to hold you in your place.

the way you gripped his hair made the tent in his boxers grow larger and tighter. it turns him on so much. “there you go. cum on my tongue, darling,” he begged while making eye contact with your worn out expression.

not even a second later, the feeling takes over. the twitching legs, the unsteady breathing, everything. and seonghwa was there to work you through it. “ahh, fuckkkk,” you cry out in pleasure, as he gets ready to unzip his pants.

yunho - size kink

it’s mainly the power dynamics that he likes. he finds pleasure in the fact that he could easily over power you at any time, and how small you are compared to him. seeing the bulge of his large dick in your belly is also a plus :3

the way his hand holds your hips, his fingers spanning over their entirety, send a shock up your spine. he squeezes gently, and you arch into the touch, heart beat quickening.

he shifts, lifting you effortlessly onto his lap like you weigh nothing. "i love how you fit right here," he says, hands roaming up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. he cups them, palms engulfing the soft mounds. and you gasp at the pressure, nipples hardening under the thin fabric of your top.

he rocks his hips up, and you feel the hard length of his cock pressing against your core through his jeans. it's thick, making you clench in anticipation. you grind down tentatively, savoring the stretch even clothed, but he stills you with a firm grip on your ass. "not yet," he breathes, fingers digging in just enough to bruise.

his shirt hits the floor first, revealing the expanse of his chest, muscles rippling as you shimmy out of your pants. naked now, you straddle him again, his cock standing rigid between you - long and girthy, the head already leaking pre-cum. yunho guides your hand to it, wrapping your smaller fingers around the base. you can barely close them, stroking slowly as he watches, mesmerized.

“i don’t think it will fit, yunho.”

“don’t worry, baby,” he assures you, leaving a kiss on your temple “i’ll make it fit.” he lifts you higher, positioning you above him. the tip nudges your entrance, slick with your arousal, and he lowers you inch by inch. your pussy stretches around him, walls fluttering at the fullness, the burn of accommodation making you moan. yunho's hands steady your hips, controlling the pace, letting you feel every ridge and vein as he fills you.

"that's it," he encourages, voice strained.

yeosang - choking / breath play

he always finds his hands wrapped around your throat when he is inside you. or (per your request) he would hold you in a headlock while he fucks you in doggy, so you could feel his huge bicep while you struggle to breathe.

you can feel his muscular chest underneath your fingertips as his fingers trace the curve of your neck. yeosang pulls you close, his body pressing against yours.

sloppy wet kisses are exchanged between you before he pushes your back onto the couch. his hands roam your body, palms rough against your skin, cupping your breasts and pinching your nipples until they’re hard. you arch into him, breath hitching, but he takes his time. mouth following his fingers - sucking one nipple, then the other, teeth grazing lightly.

when he finally settles between your legs, his cock hard and throbbing against your thigh, he pauses. his eyes lock on yours. “you ready?” he whispers, and you nod, spreading wider. he pushes in slowly, your pussy stretching around his thickness. the fullness makes you gasp, walls clenching as he bottoms out, filling you completely.

his hand creeps up your abdomen, then between your breasts, trailing up to your throat. fingers wrap around it gently at first, thumb pressing into the hollow of your neck. he starts to thrust deep, measured strokes that grind against your inner walls, building friction without haste. the pressure on your throat increases with each push, restricting your air just enough to make your head swim. you feel every vein of his cock dragging inside you, as his grip tightens.

“fuck, you take me so well,” he groans, hips rolling lazily. your hands clutch his shoulders, nails digging in as oxygen becomes a tease - shallow breaths that heighten every sensation. stars flicker at the edges of your vision, your pussy fluttering around him.

he shifts then, pulling out with a wet sound. “turn over,” he commands softly. on your hands and knees, ass up, he enters you again from behind, slower this time, savoring the angle. one arm snakes around your neck, locking you in a headlock. his massive bicep bulges against your cheek as he squeezes. you struggle for breath, the muscle flexing with each thrust, cutting off air in pulses that match his rhythm.

he fucks you steadily, cock plunging deep, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl. the headlock tightens, your face pressed into the corded strength of his arm, inhaling his scent mixed with sweat. pressure builds low in your belly, coiling tighter with every restricted gasp. he releases just enough to let you whimper, then squeezes again, driving you higher.

san - praise kink

he will make sure you know how sexy you are, how good you feel, and kiss every inch of your body just to prove it. every other word that slips from his mouth is a praise. and don’t get me started on when you praise him, because it awakens a different kind of animal.

"you're so fucking beautiful," he murmurs, his voice low and husky, lips brushing your earlobe before trailing down to your neck. he kisses the sensitive spot just below your jaw, sucking gently until you gasp. his mouth moves lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, his tongue flicking out to taste you. you arch slightly, feeling the heat building between your thighs as his hands slide up your sides.

he takes his time, worshipping every inch of you. he kisses the swell of your breast, then captures your nipple between his lips, sucking slow and deep while his hand kneads the other. "god, these tits. they're so perfect."

when he reaches your thighs, he spreads them gently, kissing the inner skin, inching closer to your pussy but teasing. "you're dripping for me already." his tongue finally laps at your folds, slow strokes that have you moaning, but he pulls back to kiss your knees, your calves, even your ankles, ensuring no part is forgotten.

"ohmygod, your tongue feels so good, sannie," you whisper, threading fingers through his hair.

he growls low in his throat, the praise sending electricity through his body. in a blur, he pins your wrists above your head, his hard cock pressing against your entrance. "say it again," he demands, voice rough, before thrusting in deep, filling your pussy with one powerful stroke. he fucks you harder now, hips snapping quickly. "fuck, you feel like heaven around my cock. so tight," he leans down to kiss you "so perfect."

the pace builds sensually, his mouth claiming yours in a bruising kiss as he drives deeper, your bodies slick with a thin layer of sweat. every thrust proves his devotion and awakens something inside you both.

mingi - dry humping / frottage

mingi likes the little things in life, and when you are in a situation where you can’t just fuck, dry humping will have to do. but don’t let this sound like it is the second best option, because the passion he puts into it will make you think otherwise.

he reclines his seat just enough to pull you over the gearshift to settle in his lap, your sundress riding up your thighs. the confined space makes everything feel more intimate. the way his palms slide under the hem, gripping your bare skin as you straddle him. his cock hardens instantly against your panties, thick and obvious through his sweatpants, and you shift, pressing down to feel the full weight of it against your clothed folds. mingi exhales sharply, eyes half-lidded as he guides your hips in a slow roll, building the friction.

“love how you feel like this,” he breathes, nuzzling your jaw, his lips leaving a trail of kisses. you rock forward, the ridge of his erection dragging over your clit with each pass, sending jolts of heat straight to your core. no rushing, no stripping away barriers - he savors the barrier itself, the tease of cotton and fleece amplifying every movement. his fingers knead your ass, urging you deeper and faster, while his other hand slips into your neckline, pinching your nipple until you gasp.

the windows begin to fog up around you. mingi's thrusts meet yours from below, his length pulsing as your arousal soaks through, marking the fabric. he watches you, adoring the hue of pink on your cheeks, the way your breasts bounce with the rhythm. “you're everything,” he murmurs, voice strained, and when the pressure coils tight, you shatter against him, clenching onto nothing. waves of bliss rip through without him inside. he groans, hips bucking as he cums, hot spurts trapped and soaking his pants, his arms wrapping you tight.

you have both made a mess of yourselves without even taking your clothes off.

wooyoung - brat / brat tamer dynamics

you live to be a brat, and wooyoung only falls into your trap every.single.time. it is starting to feel like he likes the game just as much as you do. he loves putting you in your place, maybe even slapping here and there, all while whispering degrading things in your ear.

tonight you tease him at the party - brushing your ass against his crotch while dancing with his friends, whispering how you'd rather grind on someone else. he stays cool, but you feel him twitch through his jeans, betraying him.

back at the apartment, the door barely clicks shut before he pins you against the wall, his hand fisting your hair. "think you're clever, huh?" he growls, breath hot on your neck. you smirk, arching into him, but he slaps your cheek lightly, sharp enough to sting, making your pussy clench. “get on your knees.”

you drop defiantly, but your mouth waters as you unzip him, his thick cock springing free.

he grabs your jaw, forcing you to look up. “open wide, slut. before i make you.” you part your lips, tongue flicking out to lick the tip, savoring his groan. but he doesn't let you take control. he thrusts deep into your throat, fucking your mouth with rough snaps of his hips. “that's it, choke on it like the desperate whore you are.” tears prick your eyes, but heat pools between your thighs.

he pulls out suddenly, hauling you up and bending you over the couch. your skirt hikes up, and his palm cracks against your ass - once, twice, the slaps echoing as your skin blooms red.

“count them,” he demands, fingers dipping into your wetness.

“one... fuck, two...” you gasp, pushing back, but he spanks harder, whispering, “pathetic. can't even behave without begging for more.” he yanks your panties aside, rubbing his shaft along your slick folds, teasing your entrance.

"please, woo," you whimper, breaking first. he chuckles darkly, slamming deeper. his thrusts are punishing, hips slapping your sore ass, one hand around your throat.

“being a good girl now? taking it like you deserve?” he breathes in your ear, giving you goosebumps. he kisses the marks he left, murmuring, “my perfect little troublemaker.”

jongho - edging

sex with jongho is no quick interaction. it could last an hour, maybe multiple hours. your orgasm is so so close, then he rips it away from you like taking candy away from a child. but once he finally lets you have it, it becomes more earth-shattering each time.

your head spins in a haze of heat as jongho has you pinned down. there’s no frantic rutting here - he is a master of torment, dragging out the fuck for hours, his muscles flexing under your desperate grip.

you've lost track of time. it's been at least two hours of this slow grind, his hips circling to rub every ridge against your sensitive walls, building that fire in your belly until it's roaring.

you arch up, breath ragged, begging with your eyes as the climax hovers just out of reach. “jongho, fuck, let me-“ but he senses it, that telltale flutter of your pussy squeezing him tight, and he freezes, buried to the hilt, his thumb pressing your clit without mercy…then nothing.

he pulls back, leaving you empty and throbbing, a cruel grin splitting his face. “patience, love,” he rasps, before slamming home again, restarting the climb.

his hands bruise your hips, yanking you onto his shaft in deep, measured strokes that smack wetly against your skin.

hours bleed into a fever dream and finally, his pace shifts into feral pounding into your g-spot. “now,” he commands, and you shatter. hours of your built up orgasm ripping through like a storm, pussy gushing around his pistoning cock, waves crashing endlessly.

“yesss, let it all out, babygirl.”

but he doesn’t stop, forcing you to chase your second high immediately after. and then another. and another.

taglist (open) : @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @kisssan @way2jellyous @civeua @stxrrywoo @strhwa @s0ul1nyah

[imminentdreamermuse]

[yungistiny]

BEG

[ J. Yunho ]

╚═════════

summary: in which your boyfriend is always in control but you need to see him break

warning: sub yunho, dom reader, handcuffs, edging, oral, face riding, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, choking, overstimulation, creampie

genre: smut

pairing: idol yunho x afab reader

word count: 9.6k

masterlist

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Yunho’s apartment smelled like him. Even though him and Yeosang weren’t home, his scent still lingered, clean laundry, cedarwood body wash, the faint trace of cologne clinging to the throw blanket you had wrapped around you. The TV buzzed softly in the background, playing a show you weren’t really watching as you curled up on the couch, phone in hand, waiting.

Him and Yeosang had been holed up at KQ all week, prepping for ATEEZ’s comeback. Practice, meetings, rehearsals, concept shoots. You hadn’t seen much of him, not with how late he was getting home these days, and even when he did, he was exhausted. Still sweet, still soft with you, but you missed his attention, the kind that came with heat in his eyes and his voice dropping low, all possessive and dangerous.

You sighed, mindlessly thumbing through your Instagram feed, lips twitching as you passed fan edits and memes of the members. But then you paused. Blinked. It was a fan account. Caption, “someone call the police bc THIS should be illegal 😭🔥”

You clicked the first photo. And promptly forgot how to breathe. Yunho. Tousled black hair. From at least a couple months ago when he was still growing it out. Big, dark eyes. Sweater soft enough to make your fingertips itch. His lips were parted just a little. He was holding some kind of blue ball, but the way he was looking into the camera? Like he was waiting for someone to take control of him.

You swiped to the next photo. Then the next. Your mouth went dry. Soft and flushed, like he’d just been kissed breathless. Hands delicate. Eyes wide. His entire body language screamed submissive. Needy. You actually sat up. What the hell.

He never looked like this. Not with you. Yunho was always the one pulling you close, always the one taking control. Pinning your wrists. Whispering filthy things while making you beg for more. But this? This was a version of him that had never shown up in your bed. And now it was all you could think about.

Your thighs pressed together under the blanket as you stared down at the third photo, him looking at that blue ball like it was your hand wrapped around his throat. You could feel something dark and hungry uncurling in your gut as you bit your lip and smiled.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The lock clicked sometime past midnight. You didn’t even flinch, just tucked your legs under you on the couch, gaze flicking toward the door as it cracked open and Yunho stepped in, followed closely by Yeosang. Both were dressed in oversized hoodies and sweatpants, hair damp like they’d showered at the company before heading home, backpacks slung low on tired shoulders.

Yunho saw you instantly. A tired smile lit up his face, soft and real in the dim light of the apartment. “You’re still up?”

“I wanted to see you,” you said simply, voice low as you tucked your phone facedown into the couch cushions. “Long day?”

Yeosang dropped his bag with a groan and headed straight for the fridge. “That choreography is gonna be the death of me,” he mumbled, grabbing a bottle of water. “San nearly body slammed Wooyoung during formations. Again.”

Yunho just laughed quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked so drained, but even tired, he was still stunning, and now you couldn’t stop seeing the version of him from those pictures. Soft. Open. Touchable. Wreckable.

You shifted slightly on the couch, pressing your knees together under the blanket as Yunho came over and leaned down to kiss the top of your head, one hand brushing your cheek before he stood back up, eyes warm. “I’m gonna shower again. We got kinda sweaty again before we left.”

You didn’t say anything. Not yet. Not when he was this worn out, this relaxed. No, you’d wait. Let him rest. But you knew the next two days were completely free. No schedules, no shoots, no practices. Just rest days the company had finally granted them after weeks of nonstop work.

You picked up your phone again as the bathroom light flicked on and the sound of the shower filled the apartment. Your thumb hovered over the same photo, the one where he was gazing at the ball like he needed someone to tell him what to do.

Yes. Let him rest first. Let him sleep in tomorrow. Besides, you needed to go get something from Wooyoung first.

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By the time you slipped into Yunho’s bedroom, the shower had stopped and the light was off. The room was dim, lit only by the low glow of the city through the curtains, and quiet, save for the soft rustle of blankets as Yunho climbed into bed in nothing but a loose tee and boxers.

He looked over at you as you padded across the room in one of his old shirts, the hem barely grazing your thighs. His eyes were already heavy lidded, voice low and raspy from the day as he murmured, “You coming to bed or just here to admire me from the doorway?”

You just gave him a lazy smile. “Both.”

He laughed, reaching out, and you let him pull you into bed, the warmth of his body immediately enveloping you. His arms wrapped around your waist like instinct, drawing you in until your cheek was pressed to his chest, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath your ear. One hand rested on your hip, thumb gently stroking the fabric of your shirt, and even in his exhaustion, he still pressed a soft kiss to your hair. “I missed you,” he mumbled, words already melting into sleep.

You closed your eyes, inhaling the scent of his skin, the damp ends of his hair brushing against your forehead. “I missed you too.” But you were wide awake. Because all you could think about, all, was the image of him from earlier.

Those soft eyes. Those parted lips. That sweater clinging to him like he needed someone to take it off for him. The way his fingers curled around that blue ball like he was already being guided. Vulnerable. Obedient. Yours.

You squirmed just slightly under the blanket, the ache between your legs growing impossible to ignore. He shifted too, tightening his grip around you like he could sense something, even in sleep. Always so intuitive.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, knuckles brushing the bare skin beneath as you tilted your head to look up at him, his face relaxed, lips parted, one arm tucked under the pillow, the other draped over your waist protectively.

He had no idea. No idea you were going to flip his whole dominant side upside down. But not tonight. No, tonight, you let him sleep. Let him be the strong, tired boyfriend who held you close and kept you warm.

You’d find out just how pretty he looked like as a sub tomorrow.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Yunho woke to the sound of quiet. Not silence, just the subtle kind of quiet that meant the city was still asleep, early sun bleeding in through the curtains, and the apartment was peaceful in a way it rarely ever was. No Yeosang crashing around the kitchen, no vibrating phone, no ticking clock of a packed schedule with you waking him up. Just… calm.

His body ached in that good way, muscles used and stretched from practice, but relaxed now that the rush was over. He stretched a little under the covers, blinking slowly at the ceiling. The bed felt warm, the sheets tangled loosely around his legs, and he could still smell your shampoo on the pillow beside him. But you weren’t there.

He frowned softly, rolling onto his side. The spot where you’d slept was empty but still warm. His fingers dragged across the sheets like they might summon you back, then pushed into his hair with a groggy sigh. “Baby?” he called, voice hoarse from sleep. No answer, but he could hear faint movement somewhere in the apartment, maybe the kitchen.

He smiled. You were probably making coffee. Maybe wearing his shirt still. Maybe not wearing much at all. He sat up, stretching his arms over his head, muscles flexing as the hem of his oversized tee rode up. His hair was a mess, sticking up in random directions from sleep and shower dampness the night before, and he didn’t care. Not today. Today he had no obligations. No rehearsal, no shoot, no fittings.

Just you.

He stood slowly, scratching the back of his neck as he wandered toward the bedroom door, still half asleep but already thinking about pressing a kiss to your cheek and pulling you back to bed.

He padded into the kitchen barefoot, blinking against the soft morning light. The smell of coffee hit him first, warm, rich, and a little sweet, just how you liked it. Then he saw you. Fully dressed. You were standing near the counter, your hair already done, your favorite jacket slung over the back of a chair, one hand holding your phone to your ear while the other lazily stirred something in your mug. You looked… put together. Awake. Busy.

And it threw him off.

“Yeah,” you were saying, your voice light. “No, I didn’t forget. I’ll be there in about an hour… yeah. Mhm. Okay. Sounds good.”

Yunho walked up behind you without a word, instinct more than anything. His arms slid around your waist, chin resting lightly on your shoulder as he pressed his chest to your back. You were so warm. He let out a soft hum of contentment, lips brushing the side of your neck.

You didn’t pull away. Just kept talking, shifting slightly to lean into him while your fingers curled loosely around his wrist. “I’ll text you when I leave,” you said into the phone, tone easy. “Yeah. You too. Bye.” You hung up and finally turned your head toward him, your smile easy, soft. “Morning.”

He blinked at you, still waking up. “You’re dressed.”

You nodded. “I have plans.”

“Since when?”

You leaned back a little more, enough to glance at him. “Since yesterday. It’s just for a few hours.”

Yunho let out a quiet, confused breath, his arms still wrapped snug around your waist. “You didn’t say anything last night.”

“I know,” you said lightly, tapping his wrist. “I called Woo while you were in the shower and he mentioned he wanted to hang out.”

He hummed again, but there was a flicker of something underneath it now. Not irritation, not really. Just… the tiniest bit of uncertainty. You were almost always still in bed when he woke up. Or half asleep and clingy like him. This? You, fully awake, dressed, already coordinating things with Wooyoung before he’d even opened his eyes?

Different.

He didn’t hate it.

But it was different.

“What are you two going to do?” he asked, lips still ghosting along your skin, voice low as you turned in his arms, wrapping yours around his neck now, your smile dangerously sweet. “You’ll see.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

It had been three hours. Not that Yunho was counting.

Okay, he was absolutely counting. He sat at his desk in his room, headset on, one hand loosely gripping his mouse as his character respawned for the third time in a row. The screen glowed blue against the dim room, game sounds filling the silence, but his focus was trash. Completely gone.

He leaned back in his chair with a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair.

Get it together.

He’d planned to game while you were out. Kill time. Relax. But his body had other ideas, and they were loud about it. Too much practice. Too many late nights. Too many moments coming home exhausted, collapsing next to you, falling asleep before things could go anywhere. It had been a full week since the two of you had actually had sex, and now that his schedule had finally eased up, his body was very much reminding him of that fact.

His thigh bounced under the desk as he adjusted slightly in his chair, then immediately regretted it. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. It wasn’t just physical. It was you. The way you’d been this morning. Dressed. Busy. Calm. The way you’d said, you’ll see, like you were holding a secret and didn’t feel the need to explain it to him.

That wasn’t like you. And it shouldn’t have bothered him. He trusted you. He wasn’t jealous. But something about it had lodged itself under his skin, making him restless in a way he couldn’t quite name.

He pulled his headset off and dropped it onto the desk, leaning back again and staring up at the ceiling. His phone sat face down beside the keyboard. He thought about texting you but didn’t.

Instead, he dragged a hand down his face and laughed quietly to himself. “You’re losing it,” he murmured. A week without sex and suddenly he was pacing like a caged animal in his own room.

His body shifted again, heat pooling low in his stomach, and he exhaled slowly through his nose. He needed you home. Not just for sex. Not just to get off.

He needed the way you touched him like you knew exactly what he needed. The way you let him take control, ground himself in you after weeks of being pulled in a thousand directions.

He glanced at his phone again. Still nothing. Yunho groaned and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingers lacing together as he stared at the floor.

Just come home already.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The front door clicked open just after five. Yunho was already halfway down the hall, pretending he hadn’t been pacing like a man with an itch he couldn’t scratch for the past twenty minutes. He stopped in his tracks as you stepped inside, juggling a couple of takeout bags and a large iced coffee tucked under your arm.

“Hey,” you smiled, lifting the food like a peace offering. “I brought dinner.”

He opened his mouth, maybe to say, finally, maybe to say, I missed you, maybe to say, please let me bend you over the counter right now, but before he could choose a version, Yeosang popped out of his room.

“Bless you,” Yeosang said dramatically, swooping in and grabbing a container from the bag before Yunho could even get close. “I was seconds from passing out.”

You laughed, brushing past both of them as you set everything on the counter, like you hadn’t just made Yunho wait half the day on the edge of a meltdown. He followed slower, jaw tight, running a hand through his hair again as if that might cool him off.

He was starving.

And not just for food.

The scent of takeout hit him hard, spicy, comforting, warm, but it was nothing compared to the scent of you. Up close now, his gaze dragged over your frame, from the sway of your hips to the way your fingers brushed hair out of your face. You still hadn’t changed, still looked just as composed as you had that morning.

But then you picked up a second bag he hadn’t noticed before. Plain. No restaurant logo. You didn’t even glance at him as you turned and carried it straight to his bedroom like it belonged there.

Yunho’s eyes narrowed. What the hell was that?

He barely made it through dinner. Shoveling food into his mouth between glances at the hallway, chewing around growing thoughts of what you were hiding. You weren’t acting shady, but that only made it worse. You were just… normal.

Too normal. He wanted to ask. He wanted to follow you. He wanted to be inside you before the sun set. Instead, he sat across from Yeosang, who was completely oblivious, complaining about practice and thanking you again for the food before you went to get a shower while Yunho nodded like he was listening.

He scraped the last bite of food out of the container like it personally offended him. Fork down. Meal devoured in record time. He didn’t even register what he’d just eaten, something spicy, maybe, his brain too preoccupied with thoughts of pinning you to the bed, finally taking what he’d been craving for a week.

The second he threw his trash away, he was moving. His body already buzzing, that low hum of anticipation tightening in his gut. His mouth? Dry. His hands? Itching. His dick? Definitely already half hard and he hadn’t even touched you yet.

He turned down the hallway, headed for his bedroom like a man on a mission.Time to remind her who she belongs to.

Except….. As soon as he stepped into the doorway, all that energy slammed to a halt. You weren’t there. The room was empty. He blinked. Looked around. No you. No teasing smirk. Just the sound of water.

His jaw clenched. You were still in the shower. He stared at the closed bathroom door for a beat, jaw ticking. The water was running. He could hear it clearly through the thin wall, could imagine the steam curling up your bare legs, the drops sliding down your skin.

And suddenly he wasn’t just half hard anymore. He dragged a hand down his face. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He took a step forward. Paused. Thought about it. Should he wait? Should he knock? Should he just go in there, press you up against the tile and let a week’s worth of frustration take over?

The problem was… he wanted to. God, he wanted to. But something stopped him. It wasn’t just the need anymore. It was the memory of your face this morning, how calm you’d looked. The way you had plans. The bag you’d stashed in his room. The silence about what was in it. You weren’t avoiding him. But you were doing something.

And for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t in control. Yunho stood there in the hallway, painfully hard and confused, listening to the sound of you just existing behind the door and having no idea what was about to happen next.

He groaned and walked across the hall to his room. Yunho flopped onto the bed like the world had wronged him. Which, honestly? It kind of had. You were home. You’d fed him. You were here, just a room away, naked and wet and behind a thin layer of steam and tile. And instead of riding him into next week, you were in the damn shower.

He let out a dramatic groan and threw his arm over his eyes. He could feel his heartbeat in his teeth. He was hard enough that even shifting made it worse, his sweatpants doing nothing to help the situation. He exhaled sharply, ready to yell into the pillow like some tortured teenage boy….

And then he saw it. That bag. Sitting innocently by the nightstand. Right next to your phone and your purse, like it had been there all along, glowing like it had a neon sign over it. He sat up slowly, eyebrows furrowing.

It didn’t have a logo. Didn’t look like clothes. Didn’t look like anything in particular. Which only made it worse. You hadn’t said a damn word about it.

He glanced toward the bathroom. Still running. Still safe. He reached for the bag. Hesitated. Then he unzipped it slowly, like he was defusing a bomb.

The first thing he saw made him go still. Black. Fluffy. Metal.

“What the fuck?” he said out loud, pulling the pair of fuzzy black handcuffs out by the chain. He stared at them in his hand for a solid five seconds. Blinked once. Twice. And then he recognized them.

“No fucking way.”

These weren’t just any handcuffs. He was pretty sure, no, definitely sure, these were the same ones Wooyoung had once cuffed to Jongho as a joke during a game night, lost the key, and they’d spent hours trying to break Jongho out of them before they found the keys again.

Yeosang had tried Googling hacks. Mingi had fetched a bobby pin. Seonghwa had left the apartment. Hongjoong had threatened to burn the couch if they didn’t get him out soon.

Yunho groaned, dragging a hand down his face, the cuffs dangling from his fingers. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” The metal clinked as he turned them over in his hand then he jumped. Like a kid caught with stolen candy.

The second he heard the bathroom door click open, Yunho panicked, heart lurching, hands scrambling to hide the cuffs behind his back. He barely had time to fling the bag shut and twist around on the bed like he’d been casually sitting there the whole time.

Totally normal.

Totally innocent.

Except he was gripping fuzzy black handcuffs behind his back like they were contraband and his girlfriend wasn’t literally walking in half naked.

The door creaked as you stepped into the room in nothing but a towel. And he forgot how to breathe. Hair damp, skin flushed from the heat, water still clinging to your collarbones. The towel hugged your curves like it had been tailored to you, riding just high enough on your thighs to drive him insane. He swallowed hard as you padded barefoot across the carpet, completely at ease, like you didn’t just have a pair of illicit cuffs smuggled into his bedroom.

“Hey,” you said, eyeing him as you reached for your lotion on the dresser. “You good?”

“Yeah,” he said too fast, voice a little too high.

Your brow arched. “You sure?”

He nodded, a tight little jerk of his head, trying not to visibly die. “Mhm.”

You looked so calm. So unbothered as you turned to face him, towel still clinging for dear life, arms folding casually under your chest. “You looked through the bag, didn’t you.”

He tensed. “What? No.”

You tilted your head. “Uh huh. So you’re not holding something behind your back?”

His mouth opened. Closed. Then opened again. “I was… I’m just….”

You stared.

He cracked.

“Maybe I peeked.”

Your lips twitched. “And?”

He cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly, still holding the handcuffs like they might combust. “Are these… are these the same ones Wooyoung put on Jongho that one time?”

You smiled like the devil. “Yup.”

Yunho stared at you. Then at the cuffs. Then back at you and blinked slowly. “You went out with Wooyoung and came back with these?”

“Mhm.” You shrugged, towel still perfectly in place. “We did a little shopping. He said I should use them on you.”

Yunho stared at you like you’d just threatened to flip gravity. Use them on him? On him?!

He barely had time to think before you were climbing into his lap. Yunho froze as your towel clad thighs settled on either side of him, your body still damp and warm from the shower. The smell of your skin, clean, sweet, you, filled his senses, and his hands stayed locked behind his back like he was under arrest.

He stared up at you, wide eyed, lips parted, like he couldn’t decide whether to kiss you or beg for his life. Then you reached up and ran your fingers through his hair. Gentle. Casual. Almost sweet. Except your voice? Wasn’t sweet. It was dangerous.

“You know,” you murmured, brushing a damp strand off his forehead. “Me and Woo got to talking…”

He blinked slowly. “Talking?”

“Mhm.” Your fingers trailed down to the back of his neck, nails dragging lightly, making him shiver. “I told him how you’re always so… dominant all the time.”

Yunho swallowed thickly, watching your mouth now, hyper aware of how close you were. Of the towel. Of his dick pressing against his sweatpants and how still he was holding those cuffs behind him.

“Then,” you went on, voice like silk laced with poison, “he brought up that psychic guy you all saw a couple years ago. Remember?”

His brain short circuited for a second.

“That little special you did for the fans,” you continued, ignoring the way his jaw tightened, “and the psychic said something about how you… secretly like to be dominated.”

Yunho’s eyes snapped up to yours and you smiled. And that’s when he knew he was screwed. “That wasn’t real,” he muttered, voice low and defensive. “It was just for fun.”

“Sure,” you said sweetly, still combing your fingers through his hair. “Except you didn’t deny it.”

He felt heat crawl up the back of his neck, ears going red, body stiff as you leaned in just a little closer. “And now,” you added, “here you are… with fuzzy cuffs behind your back… hard as a rock… and letting me straddle you like this.” Your voice dropped, slow and sultry. “Starting to think maybe that psychic was right.”

Yunho’s breathing faltered. He wasn’t touching you. Wasn’t even moving. But he couldn’t look away. Not when you were looking at him like that, like he was prey. Like you were going to make him say please.

He didn’t know where to look. Not your eyes, too intense. Not your mouth, too dangerous. Definitely not your towel because it was already killing him, and not your hips because the way you were rocking ever so slightly in his lap was making it impossible to breathe.

But you didn’t even seem fazed as your fingers stayed in his hair, tugging slightly now just to feel him react. And god, he did, his eyes fluttered shut for half a second, his jaw clenched, and his grip on the fuzzy cuffs behind his back tightened.

Then you dropped the next bomb. “I saw some of your new Season’s Greetings pictures.”

Yunho froze. His eyes snapped open as you smiled like a cat with cream. “The ones where you’re all flushed and pouty looking. Holding that little blue ball like someone told you not to move.”

He blinked. Once. Twice. Not saying anything as you tilted your head, your smile widening. “I kind of love it,” you said softly, dragging your nails along the back of his neck. “When you look pathetic and needy.”

Yunho’s brain shut down. There was no defense. No comeback. Just a full body system failure as those words echoed in his head like a car crash in slow motion. Pathetic. Needy. You said it like it was your new favorite thing. And worse? His dick twitched. Hard. Obvious. Mortifying.

His eyes widened as if he could will his body to chill, but it was too late. You felt it. He knew you felt it. Your hips were right there, pressed to his, and there was no hiding the way he just reacted to being called pathetic.

You didn’t say anything. You just grinned. Like that confirmed every suspicion you’d had. Like the real fun was just beginning as Yunho looked up at you, helpless, hard, and silent. No comeback. No smug quip. Just the slow burning realization that he was about to be completely owned by his girlfriend.

He couldn’t take it anymore. The pressure. The heat. The way you were looking at him like he was already undone and just didn’t know it yet. His body was betraying him with every twitch, every pulse, every little gasp that slipped through his throat no matter how hard he clenched his jaw.

So he stood up. You slid off his lap with that maddening grace, towel adjusting slightly, giving him a glimpse of bare thigh that made him clench his fists around the cuffs still behind his back. His voice was strained, just a little cracked. “Are you… are you trying to be in control right now?”

You blinked up at him like it was the dumbest question you’d ever heard. “Maybe,” you purred. And then you trailed your hand up his stomach. Right over the thin fabric of his shirt, slow and teasing, fingertips dragging up the soft ridges of his abs. His breath caught. Your touch was electric. He was too focused on the burn of your skin through the shirt to realize what you were really doing.

Until you slid it off him in one smooth motion. He barely blinked before you were taking the cuffs from his hands, he let you, too distracted, too horny, too confused to stop you.

“Baby,” you murmured, voice dipping into something syrupy as you helped pull his shirt off and over his head. “You’re always in control…” Your fingers traced along his hip, up his side, gentle and deliberate. “You can let me be. Just once.”

Yunho looked down at you, jaw tense. His pulse was pounding in his neck, and the expression on his face was a cocktail of disbelief, curiosity, and lust. He’d never let anyone take control. Not once. Not with anyone. Not even you. So the words came out before he could stop them, a little cocky, a little defensive, but a whole lot more shaky than he wanted to admit. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

You didn’t even flinch. You just smirked like you’d been waiting for that. “I thought you might say something like that.” And before it even registered, click. The cuffs locked around his wrists. Behind his back. His eyes widened instantly, and he turned to look behind him, as if expecting some kind of magic undo button.

“What the…”

You stepped back, licking your bottom lip slowly. “Oops.”

“Wait!”

“Nope.”

“Baby…”

“You did say we’ll see,” you teased, brushing your fingers across his chest. “I’m just speeding things up.”

Yunho stood there.

Shirtless.

Hard.

Handcuffed.

And entirely at your mercy.

And the worst part? He’d never been so turned on in his entire life as he watched you let your towel fall. And it was over. The soft fabric dropped to the floor like a final curtain, and his world stopped.

His breath caught hard in his throat. Eyes wide. Jaw slack. Every muscle in his body tensed at once as you stood there in front of him, completely bare, completely unbothered, like you weren’t doing this on purpose. Like you didn’t know what you were doing to him.

He jerked at the cuffs behind him instinctively, like maybe he could break them, maybe he could snap free and get his hands on you. He couldn’t. That only made it worse. “Shit,” he breathed, eyes dragging down your body so slowly it felt like punishment. “You’re…”

You tilted your head, walking toward him with a sway in your hips that had him biting down hard on a groan.

“I’m what?” you asked sweetly.

Yunho’s lips parted, but no words came out.

You were everything. Stunning. Dripping confidence. Dangerous. But more than that, you were in control. And it was driving him insane.

He shifted on his feet, hands flexing behind him, the cuffs biting into his wrists as his body screamed for friction, for release, for you. But all he could do was watch as you stepped closer, your fingers skimming along his chest, teasing and featherlight.

His cock twitched again, straining painfully against his sweats and you glanced down at it and smiled. He flinched the second your palm pressed against him. Just one slow drag of your hand over the thick bulge in his sweats, and his entire body jerked like you’d shocked him. His hips twitched forward instinctively, chasing the friction, even though he was trying so hard to keep it together.

“Ohhh,” you murmured, voice low and velvet smooth, “you’re so hard.”

Yunho’s head dropped forward with a groan, his wrists pulling against the cuffs again, like if he could just get his hands free, he’d fix this. He’d grab you. Flip you. Do something. Anything. But he couldn’t. All he could do was stand there while you palmed him through his sweats, slow, deliberate pressure, and talked to him like he was already halfway gone.

“Have you been like this all day?” you teased, your thumb brushing the swollen head through the fabric. “Just walking around the apartment all worked up? Gaming with a hard on?”

“Fuck,” he hissed, jaw clenched. “Yes.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sharp crack in his voice.

“I’ve been horny all day,” he growled, the restraint in his voice snapping like a dry twig. “Ever since you left. Ever since this morning. I couldn’t focus, couldn’t game, couldn’t think straight. I kept looking at the clock, waiting for you to get home so I could finally…” He cut himself off with a harsh breath, chest heaving now.

You paused mid stroke, eyes lifting to meet his. Your lips curled into a slow, victorious grin. “Finally what?”

Yunho stared at you, wrecked, flushed, pupils blown. And completely yours. “Touch you,” he muttered, voice hoarse. “I needed to touch you.”

You leaned in, kissed just beneath his jaw, your hand still cupping him through the soft cotton of his sweats. “You don’t get to touch me tonight,” you whispered. “You’re gonna take what I give you.”

Yunho’s knees almost buckled.

You didn’t stop stroking him. Your hand moved slow and deliberate over the bulge in his sweats, fingertips teasing the outline of his dick, your touch maddeningly light. You watched him squirm, breathing heavy, hands twitching behind his back, helpless and getting harder by the second.

And then, you smiled. “You’re gonna beg for it,” you said softly, like it was a promise, not a suggestion.

Yunho’s eyes snapped to yours, narrowed instantly. He doesn’t beg. You’re the one who always begs.

“What?” you asked, still playing innocent, thumb brushing that sweet spot again, making him grit his teeth. “Is that a fucking challenge?”

You smirked. “Maybe.”

His jaw flexed. You could practically see the moment his pride kicked in, his body straightening, eyes darkening, like he’d just locked into a competition he had no intention of losing.

Yunho didn’t beg.

He made you beg. That’s how it had always been.

Except now?

He was shirtless, hard, handcuffed, and being slowly palmed through his sweats like he was some trembling mess you were toying with for your own amusement.

And god help him…. he loved it.

But that didn’t mean he was going down without a fight.

His voice dropped, low and dangerous. “You think you can break me?” You leaned in, brushing your lips along the shell of his ear, your voice sweet as sin. “I think you’re already breaking, baby.”

His breath hitched as you kissed just under his jaw, lips dragging along his neck. “Let’s see how long you last before you’re the one whining for it.” Yunho swallowed hard, shifting again, painfully hard and twitching in your hand. He was still glaring. But that glare? Was already shaky.

He didn’t move when you dropped to your knees. Couldn’t. His breath caught so sharply in his chest it felt like his lungs forgot how to work, because now you were looking up at him, bare and beautiful and glowing with smug satisfaction.

Your hands were on his hips, warm and steady, thumbs hooked under the waistband of his sweatpants. And he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. “Still think you’re not gonna beg?” you asked softly, lips curling.

He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. The way his throat bobbed, the way his fingers flexed against the cuffs behind him, the way his eyes dropped to your mouth like it held the answers to the universe, it all said enough.

You leaned in, brushing a kiss against his lower abdomen, right above the waistband and Yunho’s hips jerked as you looked up at him, so calm it was infuriating. “Poor baby.”

You tugged just enough to pull the waistband down over his hips, slow and excruciating, revealing the line of muscle that dipped low beneath his boxers. The fabric dragged over his skin, caught for a second on the hard line of his dick before sliding past it. And there he was. Fully hard, flushed, and twitching in front of your face.

Yunho let out a low, wrecked sound from the back of his throat, half frustration, half disbelief, all arousal. You didn’t touch him. Not yet. You just let his sweats fall around his ankles, pooling on the floor. You let your fingers trail up the inside of his thighs, light enough to make his muscles twitch. “Still feeling cocky?” you asked.

Yunho stared down at you, teeth grit, breath ragged. And for the first time ever… He had no answer as your fingers wrapped around him and his entire body locked.

A sharp breath hissed through his teeth, his head tipping back slightly as if even looking at you would undo him faster. Your grip was perfect, just tight enough, warm and soft as you started to stroke him slowly, dragging your hand from the base to the tip with maddening precision.

His knees almost buckled. But he stayed still. Barely. Because he knew, he knew if he made a sound, if he so much as breathed too loud, you’d use it against him. You’d smirk. You’d tease. You’d whisper something devastating, and he’d come undone way too fast. So he clenched his jaw hard, muscles flexing, wrists straining behind his back as he held it in.

But god.

The way your hand moved…

Up. Down. Thumb teasing the underside just enough to make his thighs twitch.

He could feel the moan crawling up his throat, desperate to escape. Worse, there was a whimper behind it, high and soft and humiliating, the kind of sound he’d never let anyone hear.

Except now? He wasn’t sure he could stop it.

He looked down at you, eyes dark, lips slightly parted, so calm, so confident, and fuck, it was too much. You looked up, still stroking him, smile spreading like you felt his restraint slipping through his fingers. “You’re shaking,” you murmured.

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. If he opened his mouth, it was over. Your pace didn’t change. You just leaned in, breath ghosting over the flushed head of his dick. “Go ahead, baby,” you whispered. “Make a sound. I wanna hear how pretty you are when you’re trying not to come.”

Yunho whimpered.

Just once.

Quiet.

But you heard it.

That single, broken whimper left his lips before he could stop it. And the second it did, everything changed. You didn’t say a word. Didn’t call it out. Didn’t tease. You just looked up at him, eyes dark with something dangerous, and then lowered your mouth to him.

Yunho’s breath caught hard in his throat as your hand slipped away like a curtain being drawn back, replaced by the heat of your tongue, slowly, deliberately tracing along the underside of his dick, base to tip, savoring him like you had all the time in the world.

He nearly shuddered. His fingers flexed uselessly behind his back, breath coming in short, shaky bursts. His thighs were tense, trying to keep him steady, trying not to thrust into your mouth like some desperate mess. But fuck, he was close already, and you knew it.

You let your tongue swirl around the flushed head, lips brushing lightly, just enough to tease. Then you flattened your tongue and dragged it down again, the slow pressure making him groan low in his chest, muzzled only by how hard he was clenching his jaw.

He looked down at you, bare on your knees, mouth glistening, eyes locked on his face, and he didn’t know if he wanted to cry, come, or beg for more. And you still hadn’t really taken him in yet. That terrified him. That thrilled him.

His voice cracked out in a whisper, like it got lost somewhere in the tension, “Please…” But you didn’t stop. Didn’t speak. Didn’t rush. You just kept tracing him with your tongue, slow, reverent, like he was yours to worship only when you allowed it. And Yunho was starting to realize something terrifying. He might beg after all.

You watched him unravel in real time. His thighs shaking. His lips parted. That slight glint of panic in his eyes like he knew what was coming, and still couldn’t prepare for it. Your tongue gave one last slow sweep before your lips parted, and then… you started to take him in.

Yunho let out a low, desperate breath the second you wrapped your mouth around him. “Fuck,” he whispered, broken and barely audible as your lips slid over the flushed head, inch by agonizing inch.

Usually by now, he’d be in control. His hands would be tangled in your hair, gently guiding or gripping hard, depending on how much he needed it. He’d be whispering praise, low and steady, telling you how good you looked with his dick in your mouth, how perfect you were, how much he loved this.

But right now?

His hands were cuffed behind his back.

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t guide you. Couldn’t stop you.

He could only stand there and take what you gave him.

And what you gave him? Was everything.

You sank down farther, your mouth stretching around him, warm and wet and so fucking slow, a deliberate, inch by inch descent until you felt him twitch against your tongue and gagged slightly around him.

Yunho choked on his own moan as his knees buckled. His head dropped forward, watching with wide, dazed eyes as you held there, deep in your throat, nose brushing the base, throat clenched just right and then pulled back just enough to drag your tongue up the underside again.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, voice cracking. His fingers were fisted behind his back now, nails digging into his own palms just to keep himself grounded. Every part of him was trembling. Hot. Flushed. Out of control. And god, the way you looked right now? Eyes glistening, mouth stretched wide, spit glistening on your lips, you were wrecking him. Slowly. Thoroughly. And all he could do was stand there and moan for it.

Your pace picked up. No warning. No mercy. No hesitation. One second, you were slowly savoring him, drawing out every inch with your tongue like a promise, and the next, you were taking him deep into your throat, bobbing your head with intent, spit clinging to your lips, a soft, wet rhythm echoing through the room as you started to fuck your mouth on him.

Yunho lost it. His breath came in hard gasps, jaw slack, muscles twitching with every pass of your lips down his length. His wrists pulled helplessly against the cuffs, again and again, like if he could just get free he’d grab your hair, hold you down, do something to take control back.

But he couldn’t. All he had were his words. And oh, he used them. “Shit, baby… fuck, you’re so good at that… so fucking good. God, your mouth… your fucking mouth feels….. I’d have you choking on me every night if you’d let me… fuck….. don’t stop.”

You didn’t stop. You kept going, pace building, throat flexing around him as you took him deep enough to make your eyes water. And Yunho was losing it, unraveling fast, hips starting to twitch despite himself, head tipped back, moaning now with no shame.

He could feel it. His orgasm building low, burning, that sharp ache coiling tighter with every stroke of your mouth, every pass of your tongue, every desperate sound leaving his throat. “Baby… shit, I’m close, I’m so fucking close…..”

And then you pulled off. All the way. Just like that. Lips popping off his dick with a slick, obscene sound.

Yunho froze, mid gasp, wide-eyed, chest heaving. His dick twitched violently in the air, slick and flushed and aching. “What the fuck?”

You just looked up at him, smug, glowing, and not the least bit sorry.

He was panting. Edged. Furious. Wrecked.

He didn’t even have time to recover before you were moving. You stood up in front of him, body glistening, lips slick and flushed from where your mouth had just destroyed him, and then you leaned in.

Your mouth captured his in a kiss that stole what little breath he had left. Hot. Wet. Deep. It was possessive and unapologetic, your fingers threading into his hair, tongue pushing past his lips while he groaned helplessly into your mouth, frustrated and so fucking turned on he thought he might combust right there.

And just when he leaned into it, wanted more of it, you pulled back, and shoved him. Yunho grunted as the backs of his knees hit the mattress and he collapsed onto the bed, wrists still cuffed behind him, body boneless from the edge you’d just left him on.

He stared up at you, panting, flushed, dazed, until you crawled up after him, swinging one leg over his body, crawling up his chest with a slow, predatory smile as you leaned in over his face, your thighs framing him perfectly, lips brushing his cheek. “You remember that time,” you whispered against his ear, “you made me ride your face…”

Yunho’s breath hitched. “Baby…”

“And then you stopped,” you purred, hips lowering slightly, your heat just brushing his chin now, “and pulled me off right before I came?”

His whole body tensed and you grinned, wicked and sweet. “I do.”

“Fuck…”

“Payback’s a bitch, baby.”

You didn’t rush. You lowered yourself onto his face with practiced, sensual control, like you’d been dreaming about this moment, plotting it, waiting for the exact second to flip the script.

Yunho barely had time to exhale before your heat pressed to his mouth, and his body reacted like it was muscle memory. His tongue slipped into you instantly. A soft moan spilled from your lips at the first wet slide of it, your hips rocking slow and deep, like you were guiding him, training him in your rhythm, not his.

Above him, you moved with slow intent, riding his face as your fingers tangled in his hair, grounding yourself while he devoured you. His tongue pushed deeper, circling, flicking, pressing where he knew you needed it, because even cuffed, even edged, even silenced beneath your thighs, Yunho was still determined to make you come. That drive never faded.

But then you moaned and his hips jerked like it physically shook him. The sound of your pleasure, the way it vibrated through the room, through him, he growled into you, a deep, guttural sound of frustration and desire and surrender all rolled into one.

You gasped, your thighs trembling slightly as his tongue pushed deeper, his lips sealing against you, his mouth moving in sync with the building rhythm of your hips.

You started to pick up the pace. And Yunho? He lost himself. His hands useless behind his back, chest rising and falling with your movements, groaning into you like you were oxygen and he’d gone too long without. You were in control. But he was worshipping you. And you were moaning for it.

Your hips started grinding harder against his mouth, chasing the pleasure building deep and sharp inside you. His tongue was buried in you, relentless, fucking up into you with wet, filthy precision while his lips sealed over your clit whenever you rolled just right.

Yunho was starving for you. Groaning into your pussy like it was killing him and he didn’t care. Every moan vibrated through your core. Every flick of his tongue sent heat surging up your spine. His hips were rutting into the air, dick flushed and leaking, twitching helplessly as he bucked up into nothing. His body begging for friction, for touch, for you and getting none of it.

But he didn’t stop. He just kept eating you like it was his only job, tongue driving into you, nose brushing your clit, jaw working to keep up with the pace you set, your pace, your rhythm, your need. You were gasping now. Moaning. Hands in his hair. Thighs clenching around his head.

“F… fuck, Yunho….. don’t stop, don’t fucking stop…”

You were close, and he knew it. His groans turned rougher, deeper, as he licked you like a man possessed, like your orgasm was the only thing tethering him to this plane of existence. And then it hit. Your thighs trembled. Your back arched. You cried out his name like it was a confession and punishment all at once as your orgasm slammed through you, wave after wave crashing over your skin as you came on his face, grinding down onto his mouth, letting him feel every twitch, every pulse, every moan as you broke apart above him.

Yunho groaned beneath you like he was the one coming. And when you finally lifted your hips, trembling, breathless, his face was wrecked. Mouth open. Chin soaked. Eyes blown with awe and frustration and desperate, feral need. Still cuffed. Still hard. Still yours.

You didn’t say a word. You just slid down his body. Slow. Dripping with satisfaction. Your lips brushed his chest, your tongue tracing over the line of his abs as you made your way down, dragging every second out like punishment and reward, like a queen savoring her prize.

Yunho was gasping. Still breathless from the way you’d used his mouth, his face slick with your release, cheeks flushed, muscles twitching under your touch. His dick, angry red, leaking, twitching, rested heavy against his stomach as you hovered just above it.

And then he snapped. His voice cracked open, raw, hoarse, completely ruined. “Please…”

You paused, looking up at him. He looked wrecked. Hair wild, chest rising and falling like he’d just run miles. “Fuck,” he rasped again, the word practically punched out of him. And then finally, completely broken, pride nowhere to be found, “Baby, please fuck me.”

Your smile was lethal. Because he’d never said that before. Not to you. Not to anyone. The dominant one. The one who always took. The one who made you beg and whimper and scream.

Now? He was cuffed. Desperate. Begging. And the way he looked at you, wild, needy, lost, like you were the only thing that could save him? It was almost enough to make you come again. Almost.

You leaned in, letting your lips ghost along his but didn’t touch him yet. “Say it again,” you whispered.

Yunho groaned, eyes fluttering shut as he bucked up into the air with a growl of frustration. “Please. Baby. Fuck me.”

You didn’t make him wait anymore. Not after that. Not after he begged for you with his voice wrecked, his body trembling, his pride completely shattered, and he still looked at you like you were the only thing that could put him back together.

You climbed back up his body, slow, controlled, dragging your slick thighs over his bare skin, your heat hovering just above his leaking dick. And when you finally sank down onto him, inch by devastating inch… Yunho made a sound, a low, broken moan that punched out of his chest like he couldn’t even hold it in anymore. His head fell back, muscles tense, lips parted.

But when you grabbed his chin and forced him to look at you? That’s when it happened. That look. The same one from the photo that started everything. Wide eyes, soft and overwhelmed, his lashes fluttering like he was trying not to lose it. That same expression, raw, unguarded, needy, staring up at you like he was trying to memorize the way you felt around him. The way you owned him.

Your fingers curled tighter under his jaw, holding him there, making him keep watching as you sank down all the way, taking him to the hilt, your walls fluttering around him and he whimpered. “Yeah,” you whispered. “That look. That’s the one.”

Yunho couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. Could barely breathe. He was cuffed, buried inside you as you started slow. Too slow. Your hips rolled with devastating control, taking every inch of him, letting his dick drag perfectly along your walls, so tight, so wet, so fucking deep, and Yunho was gone.

His head tipped back, lips parted, sweat clinging to his skin, jaw slack as his breath stuttered in his chest. His hands were still cuffed behind him, muscles shaking from the strain of holding back everything. But he couldn’t hold back anymore. Not after all the teasing. Not after being edged until his vision blurred. Not after you made him beg.

You moaned above him, hips starting to build momentum now, your body bouncing harder, faster, your voice breathy, teasing, dripping with smug satisfaction. “You gonna come already, baby?”

Yunho moaned, loud, broken, helpless. He couldn’t even form words, just a string of desperate sounds torn from his throat as you kept riding him. His thighs trembled under you, body jerking with every drag of your hips.

“Fuck… baby…. fuck, I can’t…”

And then your hand wrapped around his throat. Not hard. Just enough. Just enough to own him like he usually does you. Your eyes met his, locked in, and your voice dropped like a command straight to his soul. “Go on, baby,” you whispered, breath warm against his lips. “Come for me.”

Yunho exploded. A loud, raw moan tore from him, deep from his chest, as his hips bucked wildly up into you, thick spurts of cum filling you, pulsing through him like a fucking lightning strike. You didn’t stop. You kept riding him. Slow at first, rocking through his orgasm, milking every twitch, every helpless jolt of overstimulated pleasure out of him as his moans turned to whimpers again beneath you.

He barely registered the shift until you slowed, looked down, and watched his cum dripping out of you, down his dick, pooling between your thighs and you smiled. And then you started pounding yourself on him. Hard. Relentless.

Yunho cried out, body lurching, wrists pulling tight against the cuffs as he choked on a sob, completely overwhelmed, dick twitching inside you, every thrust shooting pleasure straight up his spine like pain. “F… fuck….. baby… baby wait….. I…”

You didn’t wait. You were fucking yourself on him now. Using him. Taking him. Every slam of your hips into his making his mouth fall open wider, eyes glassy, ruined. He’d already come. But you were going to break him.

You were close. So fucking close. Riding him harder now, your thighs burning, your breath ragged, clit grinding perfectly against him with every slam of your hips. His dick still twitching, still painfully overstimulated, was buried deep, and your walls were fluttering around him like your body was about to detonate. But you weren’t done with him yet. Not without hearing it.

Your hand slid from his throat to his chin, holding him steady beneath you, thumb dragging across his swollen bottom lip as you gasped, “Whose is it?”

Yunho blinked up at you, dazed, sweat soaked, still trembling and stammered, “Wh… what?”

Your body kept moving.

Fucking him.

Owning him.

Your breath hitched as another sharp wave of pleasure shot up your spine. You leaned in close, voice rough, desperate now as your thumb pressed against his lip again. “Whose dick is it?”

That broke him. Like a switch flipped. Yunho let out a deep, guttural sound, somewhere between a growl and a moan, and before you could blink, he moved. Still cuffed. Still wrecked. Still yours. But he snapped, rutted up hard, and then flipped you, your back hitting the mattress in a rush of breathless motion, your legs spreading instinctively as he thrust back into you in one desperate, frenzied slam.

His hips pounded into you, rough and uneven, hands still cuffed behind his back and his voice cracked. “Yours.” Another thrust. “Fuck, it’s yours.” Another. “Baby… yours…. baby, I’m yours!”

You screamed his name as you came, body arching, thighs clenching, orgasm slamming into you so hard you shook beneath him. Yunho followed seconds later with a loud, raw moan, his dick pulsing deep inside you as he came again, emptying himself into you with desperate, jerky thrusts.

And then he collapsed. Chest to chest. Breath to breath. His weight heavy and warm on top of you. Still cuffed. Still panting. Completely ruined.

You both just laid there. Sweaty. Trembling. Destroyed. And Yunho, now smiling into your neck, voice barely a whisper, “you’re never doing that again.”

Liar.

He was such a fucking liar.

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The studio was already warm by the time Yunho and Yeosang walked in, sunlight bleeding through the tall windows, the soft thump of bass vibrating from the speakers as the others warmed up. It was the first official comeback practice day after their short break, and Yunho felt… fine.

Mostly.

His thighs were a little sore. His neck had a faint red mark after round three. His ego? Still trying to pretend the last 48 hours hadn’t changed him on a molecular level.

He adjusted the strap of his bag as he and Yeosang made their way inside, Wooyoung sliding up next to Yunho like a damn fox in eyeliner and trouble, all grin and zero shame. He didn’t even say hi.

“Hey,” he drawled, bumping Yunho with his shoulder. “Did she use the cuffs?”

Yeosang choked on his water as Yunho blinked slowly, not dignifying the question with an expression. “Wooyoung…”

“You can keep them, you know,” Wooyoung went on with a smug grin, all too pleased with himself. “I have like three pairs, two are fuzzy, one is glow in the dark.“

Yunho rolled his eyes and reached into his bag. And dragged out the cuffs. He shoved them hard against Wooyoung’s chest. “You can have them back,” he muttered. “I bought her pink ones.”

Wooyoung froze. Then burst out laughing as Yunho just walked toward the mirror, pulling his hoodie off like the conversation never happened. Calm. Cool. Collected.

But if you looked close?

You’d catch the slight smirk tugging at his lips.

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